MMORPG: Birth of the World's Luckiest Player-Chapter 93: Dark Hearted Old Man
Marcus tried everything he could think of to breach the Elven Gate, hoping that if he pushed hard enough or got creative enough, something might give. He eased toward it as carefully as possible, then tried throwing his weight against it, then even struck at the structure just to see if it would react. Nothing worked. The immense energy woven into the Gate pushed him back into the chamber every time, almost lazily, as if the Gate barely needed to try.
He supposed he should have expected that. If a figure as powerful as the Dark Arch-Sorcerer, the Double-Headed Raven King, had needed a Divine Beast egg just to open this thing, what chance did someone like him have at brute forcing it on his own, no matter how stubborn he felt? With a discouraged sigh, he decided to return to the city and clear his head. At this point, the only real path forward seemed to be finding the Sacred Spring Water of the Elven people.
Back in Dragon’s Peak Citadel, he wandered without much aim. The system had recently opened the gold-coin exchange, and the marketplace was exploding with activity. Wealthy players from the real world were already pumping in cash to buy gold, snapping up property, purchasing shops, and launching entire business ventures. The city felt so alive that it rivaled any real-world commercial district.
Dominion really was a colossal economy.
"Old Man, I need to get some gear identified."
The appraisal shop was busier than usual. So many players were coming in for identifications that the Appraiser had taken on three assistants just to deal with the crowd, leaving him to handle the premium clients at a leisurely pace.
"Ah, Stonehaven! What treasures have you brought me this time, let me see."
’Great,’ Marcus thought dryly, ’shout that a little louder, why don’t you.’ Does he not understand that a man’s wealth becomes his downfall?
He glanced around quickly, relieved that no one seemed to care what he was doing. In fact, it was impossible to see what any player was trying to hide, no matter how much you squinted or strained to listen. Dominion’s privacy mechanics were excellent, and at times like this, Marcus appreciated that.
"I have two pieces of equipment that need appraisal."
He knew the Appraiser’s true nature well enough, a man who cared for nothing but squeezing as much gold out of customers as he could. There was no such thing as friendship or loyalty, only business. Marcus set the Mythic Artifact, the Ironwood Staff, and the Golden-grade Black Iron Spiked Club on the counter.
"Stonehaven, this is impressive. Yet another Mythic Artifact. To this day, I’ve appraised fewer than forty of them, and you are the only player to bring me two, and both high-grade." The old man shook his head while examining the weapons, sighing as though burdened by Marcus’s unbelievable luck. "And you already possess a Divine Artifact. Stonehaven, you are truly something."
’Huh. A compliment from this greedy fossil. The sun must be rising from the west today.’ Still, the number startled him. Fewer than forty Mythic Artifacts in the entire game so far. Rare indeed. Without his absurd Luck stat, he doubted he would have obtained even one.
"The Ironwood Staff appraisal fee is five thousand gold coins. The Black Iron Spiked Club will be three thousand."
The admiration in the old man’s voice was genuine, but the greedy gleam in his eyes never changed.
Marcus checked the coins left in his pouch, eight thousand eight hundred thirty-one gold.
’Perfect. I am poor again.’
It was ridiculous, really. The rarer his loot became, the faster he went bankrupt. No other game had ever punished him for getting lucky. If this trend continued, he would actually start fearing valuable drops, because he could not afford to identify them.
"Here." He handed over the gold with the enthusiasm of a man attending his own funeral. Every coin that left his pocket felt like a personal wound. If the game allowed it, he would gladly plant his fist in this black-hearted old man’s face.
But after the appraisal finished and Marcus finally scanned the stats, his mood flipped immediately. His face lit up, and for a moment he almost felt like hugging the Appraiser. He truly was a shameless man, miserable when he lost money, thrilled when he gained something good.
He examined the weapons carefully:
Ironwood Staff (High-Grade Mythic Artifact, One-Handed Weapon)
Requirement: Level 20 Sorcerer
Description: A masterpiece carved from a thousand-year-old Ironwood tree, infused with the spirit of the Ironwood King
Stats: Attack 150, Magic Recovery Speed +10, Attack Speed +2
Bonus: Focus +50, Health Recovery Speed +5, attacks gain +50 Earth-element bonus damage, Sorcerer skills at Level 20 and Level 30 are increased by +1, attacks have a 5 percent chance to trigger the Intermediate skill Earth’s Fury
Skill: Stone Wall (Active) summons an Earth-element shield, increasing Defense by 10 percent
Skill: Summon Ironwood King (Active) summons a Level 25 Ironwood King to fight for the caster for ten minutes, usable once per day
The Ironwood Staff was powerful, not far behind his own Bat Dragon Cloud Sword, and the thought of how much gold it could fetch made Marcus’s imagination spark with greedy enthusiasm. He could almost see the numbers piling up in his account.
He certainly had no intention of obeying FreshwindElara’s demand that he apologize to those Twin Sorceresses. He had done nothing wrong, so he saw no reason to apologize, and even if he had, he would never lower himself for two bitches who had disliked him from the moment they met him. He liked beautiful women as much as anyone, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice his dignity or bend over for a pair of spoiled troublemakers.
Since he didn’t know any Sorcerers who needed a weapon like this, he planned to have Old Vine list the Ironwood Staff in the auction. He was in this game to make money, nothing more.
And if one of his rivals ended up buying the Mythic Artifact and used it against him, he almost hoped they would. If they dared to block him, steal mobs from him, or challenge him directly, he would make sure they regretted it. Once they dropped the weapon, he could always have Old Vine auction it again. Easy profit.
He then checked the stats of the Black Iron Spiked Club:
Black Iron Spiked Club (Golden Equipment, Two-Handed Weapon)
Requirement: Level 30 Warrior, 110 Strength
Description: A weapon forged from Black Iron mixed with the sharp fangs of the Golden Wolf King, tempered by an hour in molten lava
Stats: Attack 230, 10 percent chance to Stun, 5 percent chance to Knockback
Bonus: Strength +30, attacks gain +50 Earth-element damage, Final Attack damage increased by 10 percent
Skill: Fierce Strike (Active) consumes one-third of Mana to unleash a heavy strike with Knockback
’Not bad at all.’
A solid, high-damage weapon, comparable to Cabaro’s Greataxe. Someone would pay good money for it.
It was time to see Old Vine and check whether everything for tonight’s auction had been arranged.
Marcus glanced at the Appraiser, with his long white beard and hair. If his fees weren’t outrageous and if Marcus didn’t know how black-hearted he was, the old man might have passed for a kind grandpa. Remembering how much gold this man had just wrung out of him, and seeing how completely he ignored him now, Marcus felt a flicker of irritation. He honestly wanted to plant a fist in the old man’s nose. The Appraiser might have been useful, but he was the most impersonal person Marcus had met in the entire game.
"Old Man, do you know anything about the Elven Path?"
The question slipped out as Marcus was turning to leave. Despite the man’s greed, he was clearly knowledgeable. Anyone capable of appraising Divine Artifacts had to be extraordinary in some way, and perhaps he knew something Marcus did not.
"The Elven Path? How do you know about that?"
The Appraiser’s relaxed expression vanished, replaced by startled disbelief. His gaze locked onto Marcus as though he had just uttered something impossible.
"I heard someone mention it," Marcus replied casually, trying not to sound like he was fishing for information.
The old man clearly did know something, but that reaction was far beyond curiosity.
"Stonehaven, did you bring the Dark Arch-Sorcerer, the Double-Headed Raven King, through here?" the Appraiser asked, ignoring everything Marcus had said. He leaned forward, tense, suspicious, and ready to tear into him no matter the answer.
Marcus forced a laugh, unsure how seriously to take this sudden intensity. "I accidentally wandered into the Elven Path and found the place, that’s all."
The Appraiser stared at him, eyes growing wider and wider. "Stonehaven, did you get the Divine Beast egg, the Dark Violet Sky Dragon?"
The old man nearly leapt out of his chair. For a moment, Marcus thought the Appraiser was about to grab his collar.
’What in the world is wrong with him? Why is he acting like this?’
Marcus took a hurried step back, then another, trying to put some space between them in case the old man got so excited that he had a stroke right on the spot. If the Appraiser suddenly collapsed and died, Marcus would never be able to explain it.
