The night air in Marrakech was beginning to mist with a light drizzle, turning the ancient red stone of the city into a dark, glistening crimson. The labyrinthine alleys of the Medina were emptying, leaving only the echoes of distant footsteps. Omar stood on a secluded rooftop overlooking the iconic Koutoubia Mosque, holding a small vial containing a liquid that shimmered like captured starlight.
Suddenly, the temperature behind him dropped. A shadow detached itself from the chimney stack.
"Laila, there's no need for the dramatics," Omar said without turning around. "The scent of the necrotic poison on your daggers reaches me long before your shadow does."
Laila stepped into the faint moonlight. She looked haggard—deathly pale, with dark, venous lines creeping up her neck like a spiderweb. "You've grown perceptive, Merchant," she rasped, her voice thin and strained. "Did you bring the cure? Or did you come to witness my funeral?"
Omar turned, the glowing vial held between his fingers. "This is the Silver-Star Antidote. It was distilled in a mana-fire fueled by Dwarven coal and infused with herbs you won't find in the Guild's dispensaries. It won't just neutralize the poison; it will purify your mana circuits."
Laila snatched the vial with a trembling hand. She downed it in a single gulp.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, her body arched back. A blinding, cold silver light erupted from her eyes and mouth. She let out a muffled scream as a thick, foul-smelling black mist began to seep out of her pores—the poison literally evaporating from her blood.
She collapsed to her knees, gasping for air. The dark veins on her neck vanished, replaced by a healthy glow. She looked at her hands, feeling a surge of mana more potent than ever before. "This... this is impossible. The Guild's master healers said it would take months of treatment. This is a miracle."
Omar walked to the edge of the roof, looking out over the city lights. "A merchant doesn't deal in miracles, Laila. We deal in value. I've given you back your life. Now, I want my payment."
Laila stood up, dusting off her leather jacket. Her predatory grace had returned. "You wanted information on the Portals."
"That was just the deposit," Omar's voice turned cold, his eyes reflecting the sharp light of the system. "Now, I want everything the Guild has on the Shadow Market. They sent agents to my shop today. They tried to steal my inventory."
Laila's eyes widened. "The European Shadow Market? Omar, they are a global syndicate. If they've marked you, even my Guild might not be able to protect you. They want to monopolize every magical resource in North Africa."
Omar let out a short, dark laugh. "Let them come. I want to know who their local supplier is. And I want you to be my 'Eyes' inside the Atlas Guild. Every rare item, every new Portal, every secret operation—I want to be the first to know."
Laila remained silent for a long moment, weighing the risk. Finally, she stepped forward and extended her hand. "A deal. I'd rather be allied with a man who can craft miracles than be a pawn for a Guild that treats me as expendable. But listen carefully... there is an Underground Auction next week in Casablanca. The Shadow Market is planning to unveil their first mass-produced 'Mana-Weapon' there. If you want to strike them where it hurts, that's your stage."
Omar shook her hand. The moment their skin touched, a notification flared in his vision:
[Pact of the Shadow Alliance formed with Laila.]
[Reputation with 'The Guild' increased: Dangerous Anomaly.]
[New Quest Triggered: Infiltrate the Casablanca Auction.]
"Casablanca?" Omar smirked. "I was looking for a change of scenery anyway. Laila, tell me... does the weapon they're selling look anything like this?"
He pulled out one of the high-tech Mana-Rifles he had looted from the agents.
Laila gasped, stepping back. "That's an A-Rank suppression rifle! How did you get that?"
"Consider it a 'late-payment fee' from the last people who tried to rob me," Omar said, turning toward the roof's exit. "Get the details for the auction ready. We aren't going there to bid. We're going to show them who the real Merchant of this country is."
As he descended the stairs, the System's voice chimed one last time:
[Alert: Emporium has reached Level 4.]
[Feature Unlocked: Store Relocation.]
[Host can now manifest the shop entrance in any city within range.]
Omar glanced at the night sky, his ambition burning brighter than the stars. "Casablanca, get ready. The Merchant has arrived."