The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 107 - 108: The Trade

The streets of Ravenfall were lined with rows of vacant buildings, each intended to serve as a temporary shop for those who wished to sell their wares. Any sorcerer apprentice in need of a stall could simply claim an empty house and set up shop. There were more than enough buildings to go around—because, despite the market’s annual occurrence, there were simply too few wandering sorcerers in the region.

Even with the event drawing in most apprentices from the surrounding lands, the total number of participants was shockingly low. As Hutson walked through the streets, he estimated there were no more than thirty sorcerer apprentices in town. That number might increase slightly over the next few days, but it would never swell into the hundreds.

"No wonder Kallis recognized me as a newcomer right away," Hutson mused. "With so few of us, most have probably seen each other’s faces before. Any stranger stands out immediately."

He continued his stroll through the town, observing the makeshift shops as they came to life. Some apprentices had already settled in, scrawling lists of goods for sale on small blackboards outside their stalls. Others wrote down the materials they sought, hoping for a fair trade.

"Barter seems to be the dominant form of trade here," Hutson noted. "Few are using gold, and I haven’t seen a single transaction involving magic stones yet."

He inspected several stalls, finding them stocked primarily with potion ingredients, spellcasting materials, and pre-made elixirs. Some shops even sold books containing spell models, though the prices were steep. Most vendors priced their goods in gold coins but preferred to trade for items of equal value.

For example, the chalkboard outside one shop read:

"Selling Withered Demon Vine – 80 gold per stalk. Prefer trade for White Dew Grass."

It was clear that wealth was not the primary concern for these independent sorcerers. What they truly sought were materials essential for their magical growth. Without the backing of a formal sorcerer organization, they had no reliable access to resources. Making money in the mortal world was easy—but obtaining rare alchemical ingredients and spellcasting components was another matter entirely.

All resource-rich territories were controlled by powerful sorcerer factions, leaving the scattered independents to scavenge for what little remained.

"If these people knew about the abundant resources hidden in Valley Town, they’d rush in without hesitation, even knowing the dangers," Hutson thought.

He made a full circuit of the market but found no trace of the Moonstone Herb he sought. Most likely, the seller had yet to arrive. The other items available were of little interest to him—Larry had already provided him with an ample supply of basic alchemical ingredients.

As night fell, Hutson selected an empty building and claimed it as his lodging. Once inside, he locked the door, retrieved rations and water, and enjoyed a simple meal.

There was little fear of an ambush or sudden attack. In Ravenfall, no sorcerer apprentice dared break the sacred rule—violence within the town was strictly forbidden.

Two days later, the market officially began. The number of apprentices in town had increased slightly, reaching just over sixty.

During this time, Hutson remained in his quarters, focused on his meditation and magical training. He had temporarily paused his analysis of the stone tablet, ensuring his mana reserves remained at their peak—a necessity for surviving in such an unpredictable gathering of sorcerers.

Now, the town had become noticeably more lively.

Patrolling the streets were three figures clad in black robes—the enforcers of Ravenfall’s laws.

Hutson took a moment to sense their magic. Each one was a Third-Class Sorcerer Apprentice, and their mana signatures were incredibly potent.

"They must belong to a sorcerer faction—most likely Dream Isle," Hutson speculated.

With these mysterious enforcers overseeing the event, the market maintained a fragile but effective order. Even those who carried valuable treasures did not fear being ambushed in broad daylight.

Then, a murmur spread through the crowd.

"Moonstone Herb! It’s actually Moonstone Herb!"

"That’s a high-grade alchemical ingredient. How did he get his hands on it?"

"This stuff is precious, but it’s useless to me. You’d need advanced alchemical skills to make use of it."

"Exactly. If I had that level of expertise, I’d be working for a sorcerer organization by now, not struggling out here."

A small crowd had gathered in front of a particular stall, where a man wearing a white mask was displaying his wares.

Intrigued, Hutson moved closer.

The masked man held a finely crafted wooden box. Inside, a layer of red silk cradled two silver, translucent leaves—the unmistakable mark of the Moonstone Herb.

"Ai chip, verify the authenticity."

"Scan complete. Confirmed: This is genuine Moonstone Herb."

Hutson had suspected as much, but caution demanded certainty. Moonstone Herb was an aquatic plant that thrived only in moonlit waters. Before harvesting, it appeared as nothing more than ordinary green seaweed—indistinguishable from its mundane counterparts.

Without the proper knowledge, one might pass it by without a second thought, unaware that they had overlooked one of the rarest alchemical materials in existence.

The masked vendor closed the wooden box and addressed the crowd.

"I have two batches of Moonstone Herb available. I will only trade them for materials from the Necromantic or Curse schools of magic."

A murmur of dismay rippled through the onlookers.

"No gold transactions? Necromantic and Curse materials aren’t easy to come by."

The masked man shook his head. "Gold is of no use to me. I require those materials specifically."

One of the apprentices in the crowd hesitated, then spoke.

"I don’t think you’ll have much luck here. There aren’t many specialists in those fields."

He wasn’t wrong.

Both Necromantic and Curse magic required extensive study and specialized knowledge—a steep barrier for most wandering sorcerers.

Those without the necessary expertise would never carry such materials.

In fact, few would even risk handling them—items associated with death and dark curses were taboo, and most sorcerers preferred to avoid them entirely.

Yet the masked man’s stance remained firm.

"If no suitable trade is offered, then this deal will be canceled. I will hold onto the Moonstone Herb and wait for another opportunity."

Hutson’s eyes narrowed as he observed the situation.

He needed that herb.

But the question was—what did he have that could secure the trade?

Hutson cast a sharp glance around him, then pushed through the murmuring crowd, stepping into the open space before the masked man’s stall.

From within his robe, he retrieved a small, twisted effigy—a Cursed Effigy. The air around it seemed to darken ever so slightly, a faint aura of malice lingering in its presence.

"I do have a rather fine spellcasting material," Hutson said calmly, "but trading it for just two pieces of Moonstone Herb would be a grievous loss on my part."

A hushed silence fell over the crowd.

Then, whispers erupted like wildfire.

"A Cursed Effigy! That’s an incredibly rare spell component!"

"Where in the world did he get something like that?"

The gathered apprentices turned their gazes toward Hutson, their expressions shifting between awe and disbelief. All eyes were now locked onto the sinister-looking effigy in his hand. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

For those who specialized in Curse magic, a Cursed Effigy was an invaluable treasure. While it could technically be used in zero-level curse spells, doing so would be a waste of its true potential. Its power was far more suited for first-level curse magic, amplifying spells in ways that ordinary materials never could.

The masked vendor’s breathing hitched the moment he laid eyes on the effigy. It was clear—he wanted it.

But now, his two Moonstone Herbs were no longer enough.

After a brief hesitation, he reached under his cloak and pulled out a thick, leather-bound tome.

"This is the spell model for Ice Spike, a zero-level spell," he offered, his voice carrying a newfound urgency. "I’ll add it to the trade. What do you say?"

Hutson let out a soft chuckle.

"Surely you jest?" His voice carried an edge of amusement, yet his words were firm. "A Cursed Effigy is a material capable of powering first-level curse spells. A mere Ice Spike model? That’s laughably inadequate."

His fingers tightened slightly around the effigy, as if preparing to withdraw the offer entirely.

"If you cannot offer something of true worth," Hutson continued, "then I see no reason to continue this negotiation."

He made a deliberate motion, tilting the effigy ever so slightly—a silent gesture that he was prepared to put it away.

The tension in the air grew thick.

The masked vendor faltered for a fraction of a second. He knew—if he let this moment slip away, he might never get another chance.

Would he dare to raise the stakes?