The morning sun bathed the city of Eria in its golden light, rousing its residents from slumber. The lively bustle of the Moonlight Inn's first floor filled the air. Patrons munched their breakfasts, engaged in animated conversations, or hurried off to their various occupations within the city walls. Adventurers and merchants, their spirits high for the day's prospects, ventured out into the world.
Atop the third floor, Alex stirred in his room.
Stretching with a yawn, he addressed Silveria, his ever-present companion.
"Good morning, Sil. Did you rest well? Though, I suppose sleep isn't quite necessary for you, is it?"
Silveria's playful retort echoed through the room,
"Indeed, Master. While observing your slumber may not be the most stimulating activity, I choose to indulge in it nonetheless."
With a warm smile, Alex acknowledged her teasing. Starting the day with friendly conversation was a welcome comfort. After his morning routine, he descended to the bustling inn, enjoying a light breakfast before making his way to the Adventurer's Guild.
A stop at Smith's Store presented an opportunity.
Alex requested a custom holster for his unique firearm, leaving the experienced blacksmith and his daughter speechless. The design was unlike anything they'd encountered, hinting at an enigmatic background Alex kept close to his chest. Despite their curiosity, their respect for his privacy prevailed.
Seeking further equipment, Alex commissioned a durable armor crafted from powerful monster hide, the cost settling at three gold coins. As he passed the Magic Store, the allure of mana potions proved irresistible. He purchased five, each costing two silver coins and boasting a medium grade. These vibrant blue concoctions promised to replenish his magical energy.
Curiosity sparked by his Appraisal skill, Alex examined one of the potions. A translucent window materialized, revealing the following information:
* Utility: Restores 500 Magic Power
This rudimentary information fueled his desire for more. "What secrets would an Advanced Appraisal unveil?" he pondered, intrigued by the possibility of discovering the potion's ingredients.
The store clerk, aware of potential misuse, offered a friendly warning: "Remember, sir, two potions per day is the limit. Any more might lead to muscle stiffness." With thanks and a promise to heed the advice, Alex departed.
**The world of potions, he learned, was meticulously categorized by grade.** Five distinct tiers existed, applicable to mana potions, healing elixirs, strengthening concoctions, and more. These were:
* Normal Grade (Green)
* Medium Grade (Blue)
* Advanced Grade (Gold)
Holy Grade potions, however, were shrouded in an air of rarity and legend. No shop dared to sell them, their value far exceeding mere commerce. Even Advanced Grade potions, with their exorbitant price tags, were rarely seen within store walls.
Holy Grade potions were national treasures, coveted by empires and superpowers alike. Their restorative powers were unparalleled, rumored to revive those on the brink of death, cure any ailment, and even regenerate lost limbs within seconds. Advanced Grade healing potions offered similar limb regeneration, though at a slower pace.
The art of crafting these elixirs, so the legends claimed, was lost to time. No modern alchemist, no matter their skill, could replicate their magic. Only a select few nations held these potions within their heavily guarded vaults, testaments to their inestimable worth.
Thus, the Holy Grade potion remained a mythical entity, a symbol of power and hope whispered about in hushed tones.
Alex sighed softly, pushing open the Adventurer's Guild door to find the usual bustling scene. Heads turned briefly at his entrance, but seeing the newcomer, they quickly returned to their tasks.
Silveria, her voice tinged with playful impatience, chimed in,
"Master, let's go slay some goblins already! Level up time!" Her excitement mirrored a child eagerly awaiting a new toy.
With a selected quest in hand, Alex left the Guild, heading towards the north gate. Another goblin subjugation awaited.
Half an hour later, he emerged from the gate and entered the hushed embrace of the forest. Silveria's voice broke the silence,
"Master, proceed thirty meters east. You'll find a group of five or six goblins."
"Thanks, Sil," Alex replied, acknowledging her guidance. However, his statement sparked a dismissive scoff from her.
"Do not compare my divine sense to your rudimentary presence detection," she huffed, clearly irked.
Alex shrugged, continuing east as instructed. Soon, six goblins materialized before him. Silveria, unable to contain her anticipation, materialized in his hand.
Alex drew his silver gun, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Two precise shots rang out, each bullet leaving a clean hole in a goblin's chest.
The remaining goblins, startled by their fallen comrade, finally registered the threat. Before they could react, Alex unleashed another volley. Two bullets flew true, one exploding a goblin's head in a crimson spray, the other tearing through another's stomach.
He reveled in the absence of recoil, the smooth pull of the trigger a source of morbid solace. A twisted sense of security washed over him, fueled by the weapon's deadly efficiency. It was as if the silver gun granted him dominion over life and death within his reach.
A sharp reminder jolted Alex from his reverie.
"Snap out of it!" Silveria's voice crackled with urgency.
"You're daydreaming in the middle of a fight! Focus!"
The rusted sword that whizzed past his ear cemented her point. Adrenaline surging, Alex dove back, narrowly avoiding the deadly arc.
With a muttered word of thanks, he unleashed a rapid-fire barrage. Five bullets snapped from his gun, each finding its mark with deadly precision. Three goblins crumpled - the wounded one, the sword-thrower, and a club-wielding brute. The sole survivor, panic etched on its face, tried to bolt. Alex's mercy was nonexistent. One final shot ended its desperate bid for escape.
Six goblins down in mere seconds, ten bullets expended. A shiver ran down his spine as he checked his mana reserves. Half empty, down to 590. The kill had bought him experience, but at a cost.
He leveled up. Ignoring the notification for now, he sank down, exhaustion claiming him. He needed a moment to process the raw energy coursing through his veins, the grim dance with death still fresh in his mind.