It had been over twenty years since I began collecting runes and Prana Arts—and not once had I obtained a single Prana Art.
Runes? Those were another matter. I had gathered plenty over the years—fire, earth, wind, and more.
But in all that time, I had encountered only two prana users, and neither had shown the slightest intention of parting with their arts.
“Don’t you find this boring, Master?”
I shifted slightly, turning my head from where I lay face down on the floor toward Strata’s voice.
“Yes,” I replied flatly.
Of course I was bored.
I had spent twenty years here, waiting and hoping that someday a prana user would appear who was desperate enough to trade.
“Then can we return to the cave?” he asked.
“No. Not now.”
I exhaled slowly.
I had already invested too much into this. Walking away now wasn’t an option, not until I secured at least one offensive Prana Art.
“…”
“No,” I added, glancing at him. “No amount of staring at me will change that. I’m too far in to turn back.”
Strata didn’t respond, but I could feel the weight of his gaze—disappointment, thinly veiled.
I ignored it.
“Did you know, Master?”
“?”
“Lately, the disturbances from the mainland have been increasing. Aren’t you curious, Master?”
“…”
“….”
“Nooo,” I drawled. “And don’t even think about looking into it.”
I pushed myself up slightly, my expression hardening.
“The Elder Dragons have started participating in the war. The last thing we need is one of them tracing your observation spells and sending something this way.”
I had learned that lesson the hard way.
The last time I’d tried to peek, I nearly paid for it.
The moment I realized they had begun actively involving themselves, I stopped observing the mainland entirely.
Not that I needed to. Their battles announced themselves to the world.
Each time they clashed, the effects were impossible to miss, even from here.
Pillars of flame, arcs of lightning, torrents of water, and spires of earth tore into the sky as if the world itself were breaking apart.
The last time I checked the mainland, dragon corpses were sprawled across the battlefield, their chests ripped open where victors had torn out their hearts.
By the time this war ends, the dragon race may well be on the verge of extinction.
Then again, a species that settles its disputes by tearing out each other's hearts can hardly expect a different outcome.
Still, it has nothing to do with me. As long as they keep the war confined to the mainland, I can continue living well.
Speaking of which…
Name: Strata
Species: Snake
Attribute: Fire
Age: 54
Mana: 73
Aura: 0
Prana: 0
The little snake had grown considerably over the years, though he was still far from the two hundred mana required to form his core.
“Boring...” Strata's whining pulled me from my thoughts.
“If you're that bored, why not try becoming stronger like Tranx?” I asked, mostly to stop the whining.
Then I felt it.
A presence outside.
“Hm?” I lifted my head.
A new customer.
“Off you go, Strata. I have someone to attend to,” I said, pushing myself off the ground and walking toward the desk.
I activated the trigger to open the front door and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Unlike most newcomers, this one walked in as if he had been here before, his steps measured and unhurried.
A minotaur entered, gray fur revealing his age, dressed in ragged cloth and carrying a worn staff. His frame had thinned with age, yet there was a quiet steadiness in the way he carried himself.
I cast <Inspect> on him.
Name: ???
Species: Minotaur
Attribute: Fire
Age: 110
Mana: 6
Aura: 0
Prana: 120
Hoo… a prana user.
And a strong one at that.
A faint hope stirred within me that he might actually be willing to trade a Prana Art, though I kept my expectations in check. The last two had been disappointments—interested only in Manabloom fruits, with no intention of parting with their arts.
“What would you like to sell?” I asked in a flat tone, resting my face on one hand. By now, I had all but given up expecting any prana user to part with an art.
“I heard you are selling Prana Arts,” the customer said.
Oh.
This is unexpected.
I stared at him, unsure for a moment if I had misheard.
The hall fell silent.
After twenty years of waiting… had someone finally come to trade?
A slow smile threatened to form.
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