The orb glowed with faint purple light... then dimmed.
A small magical sigil flickered in the air briefly before vanishing with a deflated puff.
The receptionist gave me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, sir. Your status readings are... well, too low for registration. You'll need at least a mana resonance of twenty to qualify."
I wasn't even surprised. Honestly, I was half-expecting it. "It's okay," I said with a shrug. "I'm not interested in joining the Adventurer's Guild anyway."
Ella looked a bit disappointed, but she gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "There's always the Merchant's Guild in town. You're more of a business person anyway, right?"
"Guess so," I said, though a small part of me couldn't help but feel like I'd just flunked a magical aptitude test in front of the cool kids.
Elvie, as usual, looked unimpressed. "Don't rely on guilds too much. They're useful, but they'll sell you out to the highest bidder if they think you're hiding something valuable."
Her eyes flicked to the satchel again, and I subtly pulled it closer to my side.
Still, even with the rejection, I felt like I had taken another step forward in this world. I might not have the strength or magic, but I had one thing they didn't—cup noodles, coffee, deodorant, otherworldly items and an ancient satchel that seemed to break more rules than I understood.
My adventure wasn't over—it was just getting started.
With that in mind, we made our way to our final stop—the town's Merchant's Guild. Unlike the lively Adventurer's Guild, the Merchant's Guild had a more refined and structured feel. The building was lined with bookshelves filled with trade records and transaction logs, and the scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air. Business people, traders, and well-dressed elves moved about, engaged in quiet but serious negotiations.
Elvie guided me through the registration process, ensuring that I had the proper documentation to be recognised as a merchant. The paperwork was fairly simple—listing my name, place of residence (which, for now, was the inn), and the type of goods I intended to sell. Fortunately, the guild didn't require me to specify each item in detail, which worked in my favour. The receptionist, a slender elf with glasses and a calculating gaze, stamped the final approval and handed me my merchant's badge, a small metal plate inscribed with glowing elven runes.
As we exited the guild, the screen dinged, and the request was completed with the reward of one more level up as Elvie leaned in close and whispered, "You might want to keep your items a secret for now."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?" I had already planned to introduce my products to the stalls I'd seen earlier in the market—or maybe even rent a stall myself.
Elvie sighed, crossing her arms. "Dirk, your food is amazing. I bet you could sell it at a high price, but for now, let's not overwhelm the customers. If the wrong people find out that it can enhance someone's mana, you'll have more trouble than you can handle."
I frowned slightly. "Do you really think it's that valuable?"
"Of course! The water bottle alone is extraordinary," Ella chimed in, inserting herself into the conversation as the three of us turned into a quieter alleyway.
Elvie nodded in agreement. "It's not just the taste—it actually affects mana regeneration. That's unheard of."
Another ding from the guardian screen.
New Quest: Get a weapon
Reward: Magical ballpoint pen
Magical pen? Why would I need a magical pen? Ignoring the screen, I mentally closed it.
Ella suddenly clapped her hands together. "But for now, let's focus on something else. We need to drop off our camping gear at the inn, and after that, we'll head to my uncle's weapons shop. You need to get yourself a weapon."
The Guardian Screen was right once again.
I blinked at her. "Why do I need a weapon?"
Both women stopped and turned to look at me like I had just said the dumbest thing imaginable.
"Silly, of course you need one," Elvie scoffed. "Even ordinary merchants have to protect themselves."
I sighed. I didn't exactly plan to become an adventurer. My goal was to have a peaceful, easy life while selling my goods. Maybe someday I'd consider joining the Adventurer's Guild, but for now, I just want to enjoy this new world without unnecessary risks, but whatever, I'll get a magical ballpoint from it.
Still, I could see the determination in their expressions. Resisting wasn't worth the effort. "Okay, if you say so."
Not long after, we arrived at a modest but well-maintained wooden shop nestled a few blocks away from the Merchant's Guild. A faded but sturdy sign hung above the entrance, depicting two crossed swords and an elven inscription. The scent of polished wood and metal filled the air as Elvie pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Inside, rows of finely crafted weapons lined the walls—swords, daggers, bows, and even intricately designed magical staves. Behind the counter stood an old but formidable elven warrior with short silver hair, battle-worn scars on his arms, and piercing emerald eyes.
The moment we entered, his gaze locked onto us, sharp and assessing. "Ella, Elvie, what brings you here?"
His voice was gruff but held an underlying warmth. According to Elvie, Igor was their mother's cousin and their only living blood relative.
Elvie grinned. "Uncle Igor, we've brought a friend. He needs a weapon."
The old elf's eyes flicked at me, his expression unreadable. "A weapon, huh? You don't look like a fighter."
"I'm not," I admitted. "But apparently, I still need one."
Igor huffed a small chuckle. "That's true enough. Come on, let's find something that suits you."
I browsed through the shop, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer variety of choices. Some swords were too large, others too ornate, and some seemed to hum with magical energy—far beyond what I needed. Eventually, I settled on a simple but well-balanced short sword. It wasn't flashy, but it felt comfortable in my grip and seemed easy to wield. That was good enough for me.
Another ding.
I blinked at the screen, a mix of confusion and amusement tugging at the corner of my mouth. "A ballpoint pen? Really?" I muttered, raising an eyebrow. Still, I couldn't help the small surge of excitement as I dove into my satchel, fingers rummaging through instant noodles, coffee sachets, a suspiciously squishy mana bun, until finally—my fingers wrapped around the familiar plastic body of a blue ballpoint pen.
"...This thing?" I held it up, squinting. The same one I'd been using at the shop, covered in faint bite marks on the cap and a crack down the side.
Magical pen, my ass. I sighed, ready to shove it back into a side pocket when—wait.
A faint purple glow. My eyes widened as I leaned in. The tip of the pen shimmered, just for a second, like someone had dipped it in starlight. Then... nothing.
"Huh." Curious, I grabbed a small wooden tag from my small sword I had just bought earlier—a merchant's label for pricing—and wrote my name across the surface: Dirk Robinson Jr. As soon as the last letter was written, it glowed softly... and then vanished into the wood. I blinked. "Well, that's... new." Then I wrote my name at the grip of my sword, and it glowed and then vanished.
Another ding.
I nearly dropped the pen. "Wait, what!?" I yanked open the Guardian screen again with a dramatic shout in my mind. "GUARDIAN!" Sure enough, my status had changed.
LEVEL: 3
MAGIC: 10
HP: 10
POWER: ???
My jaw dropped. "Holy crap... I actually levelled up!" I stared at the pen again like it had just sprouted wings and sang me a lullaby. "You little sneaky thing. You're not just a ballpen, are you?"
The pen didn't answer, obviously—but I felt a strange sense of camaraderie blooming between us. I slid it carefully into the front pocket of my vest like it was the most precious artefact in my possession. Because apparently... it was.