Mage Legend

If you're not too picky, buying a new thin sword for Zilvra shouldn't be too difficult. Because they underestimated the elves' determination to independently resist the undead army, hundreds of weapon merchants transported vast quantities of weapons to Mislanda Port, but none were sold; only fruit and medicine were in high demand. So when the fat Bob appeared on the marketplace with his guests, they received a warm welcome.

However, after Lynch whispered in Uncle Barrel's ear, "We're here to buy things, not to become the center of attention," Uncle Barrel hurriedly shooed away the merchants who had gathered around.

"Sir, I'm sorry, that was my oversight," Uncle Barrel said. "Also, your gemstone is of very high value, but due to the scarcity of white Gold Coins here, we can only use more Gold Coins. Those items are somewhat large, how would you like to handle them?"

"Spend them," Lynch's Eye of Insight continually scanned for the spiritual light of magic items, to at least save time. He pointed towards a rather inconspicuous spot and said, "Let's go there."

The group made their way through the crowd, heading in the direction the mage had indicated. Although Bob didn't understand why the mage didn't go to the best merchant here, and his bulk severely limited his pace, he was sweating heavily, trying hard to keep up.

It turned out that area was where some mercenaries sold their spoils. Though they couldn't participate in actions against the undead, the Fishmen in Unicorn Bay became rare hunting targets. Those who loved "collecting" actually provided a good income for those daring to take risks. However, there would never be elves shopping here. The longevity race with pointed ears never had enthusiasm for commerce.

Lynch walked briskly into the crowd, but suddenly slowed down as if he'd seen something unbelievable. Zilvra and Soka, not knowing why, looked at Lynch in puzzlement.

In a corner of this market, an elderly man with white hair lowered his head, squatting with a robust body in front of a rusty giant sword. Although it appeared unusable, the magical glow emanating from it didn't escape Lynch's eyes.

Even though the messy hair completely covered the seller's face, it posed no hindrance to Lynch, who possessed the Eye of Insight. After repeatedly confirming his observations, the mage finally stood before the person.

"Sir Macken Knight, why are you here," the mage said.

Hearing this name, the old man's body trembled slightly. He glanced up through his hair and clearly saw the face of the young man in a white robe standing before him. Although those pure black eyes made him feel strange, that face could still imprint clearly in his mind.

"Lynch?" the old man's voice was somewhat hoarse. "Glad to see, you're still alive."

The mage crouched down to the same level as Knight Macken. He looked at the fallen Dragon Slayer before him, unsure of what to say. Judging from his appearance, he seemed to have been expelled from the sacred Pate's Paladin Order, at least that silver-white Honor Armor he should never part with was gone. "Perhaps for the responsibility of Moon Harbor City's fall," Lynch thought. "But it should be the bewitched Gangsa City Lord who bears the brunt."

Macken Knight didn't say anything either; the two just squatted facing each other, the scene eerily silent.

"Are you selling this sword?" Lynch decided to break the silence with this topic: "How much?"

"It's already rusty," Macken thought for a moment and said, "It might break in the next swing. Are you sure you want to buy it?"

"I'm not talking about this one, but about you," Lynch said. "Macken, look at the few of us, who can wield such a heavy sword? Do you think it would be me, the mage, or one of the two ladies?"

"I'm already old," Macken Knight said. "Besides, I nearly got you killed once. Do you still want me to exert myself? I'm just like this rusty sword, at a point where I should fade away from this world."

"No, Dragon Slayer, no!" Lynch's voice wasn't loud, but with the magical power of persuasion, every word he spoke seemed to strike heavily at Macken's heart: "It's not the sword that led to your rust, but your heart that caused it to rust over. When it comes to magic items, I have more qualifications to speak! In this sword, there still resides the power to slay dragons and demons, just like your heart is filled with discontent and loneliness. But you escape the last dignity you have left, wastefully squandering what life remains. How long has it been since you wielded this treasured sword? How long since you shouted a battle cry? How long since you lifted your head to face your own life?"