He stumbled into the chaos of the market, almost falling.
"Ugh… what the fuck is this place…" he muttered.
People were moving like frantic ants, haggard old men in patchwork cloaks and merchants screaming about deals with voices cracked from hours of shouting.
The smell was… indescribable like rotten fruit, sweaty feet, burnt incense or maybe blood..
'Great. Just great. This place smells like shittt..'
He adjusted his pouch, keeping it under his robe.
[Basic sword forms]
[Cooking: Forest Herbs]
[Pain resistance training]
'Cooking skills? Pain resistance? What in the world–'
His eyebrow twitched as he looked around. Skills and memories were being sold like some commodity.
"Ah… this world's so fucked up," he mumbled.
A woman passing by looked at him as if he was a deceased dog.
He thought in his mind first – he needed to find out who he was.
A voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.
"You there, blank-faced boy, first time in the Memory Market?" rasped an old broker wearing a brown robe. His face was half hidden under his hood, only a crooked nose and thin cracked lips were visible.
He scowled as he asked, "What gave it away? My utter lack of will to live or my confused goldfish expression?"
The broker chuckled and asked with a teasing tone, "Oh my.. Sharp tongue for a goldfish. Looking to buy something?"
He hesitated but after looking at the coins, his gaze locked onto a bronze coin- etched with a serpent coiled around a blade.
'Should I buy this?', he thought.
"Combat skills. Basic sword forms," he spoke instinctively as if his someone else controlled his body.
The broker's cracked lips twitched. He picked up the bronze coin.
"Freshly harvested," the broker said. "Young guard, Clean footwork and it won't fry your brain."
"Hah... that's reassuring," he said dryly and asked "How much?"
The broker extended his right hand and said. "Payment – fear of heights memory coin."
Confused, he spoke. "Fear of heights..?"
He didn't even know if he had that fear.
'Seriously.., who needs fear right now?'
"Fine." He opened his pouch, searching until he found an iron coin etched with a rune like a man falling. He held it out with trembling fingers and the broker gave him the bronze coin with the other hand.
"Press this to your temple," the broker instructed.
He took a deep breath and thought. 'Fuck it'.
He pressed the bronze coin to his temple. Instantly, foreign memories flooded his head.
The broker placed the iron fear coin between two crystal plates on a rune-etched box. As he pressed the rune, the coin glowed faintly.
"Breathe in, don't die here" the broker rasped.
He inhaled rapidly.
A training ground bathed in sunlight, Rough wooden sword in hand. The weight felt real, heavy and comforting and a harsh voice barking orders, " Step forward, slash down, pivot, parry as sweat dripped down his spine. The voice praised him once, then demanded twenty more cuts."
The images flooded into his mind felt as if these memories were his own to begin with.
Darkness. Silence.
He Inhaled sharply as his knees collapsed . The coin dropped to the ground as he grabbed the stall post for balance/
"Ah… fuck…" he heaved heavily.
Even though his vision turned blurry with tears, he felt it– The stance, the grip and the way his balance shifted naturally now.
"Mhm, not bad for the first time," the broker said, sliding the empty coin into a drawer.
"First time's always rough."
He straightened slowly as sweat dripped from his chin. "Thanks… I guess."
The broker chuckled softly and said "Don't thank me, boy. Just don't die before buying something more useful."
He narrowed his eyes and asked. "What's that supposed to—"
"Ah, one more thing," the broker interrupted, leaning in so close to him that he could smell the stale herbs on his breath.
"Memory Hunters prowl these stalls. Blank slates like you… worth more than gold." the broker said.
A shiver ran down his spine. He held onto a pouch tightly as he turned away and vanished into the crowd.
'Great. Just fucking great.'
"Alright… whoever I am… let's see how long I can keep my head on my shoulders."