Soon, Baron Weslin's personal healer, an elderly half-elf named Marda, examined Ella under layers of healing light. "This is no ordinary curse," Marda muttered, adjusting her monocle. "This is shadow-forged. Likely left over from some necromancer's relic. If untreated, it'll reach her heart by nightfall."
I clenched my fists. "Can it be removed?"
"Yes... but I'll need rare herbs. There's only one place to get them this fast—the northern edge of the dungeon."
Elvie looked at me. "You can't go alone."
"Then I won't," I said, already standing. "You're staying here with Ella. I'll take one of the baron's men."
The baron nodded. "No worries, I'll tell one of my most trusted men. Let's move. Every second counts."
As we strapped weapons to our backs, Baron Weslin approached. He tossed me a glowing amulet. "This will shield you from dark magic. One hit only—use it wisely. You can go there early in the morning; it'll be too risky to venture tonight."
I bowed. "Thank you, my Lord."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Save the girl. I've seen too many lost to that kind of curse."
I looked toward the mountain pass, my heart burning with fury. "I will."
That evening, inside Baron Weslin's study.
Books lined the walls, along with maps of various dungeons and trading routes. A large, ornate mana crystal pulsed with soft blue light on the centre table.
The baron and I talk about the Elven town and Miss Agnes. Then he asked about my products. "I've seen merchants come and go," Weslin said, pouring himself a drink. "But the rumours about your 'products' have made it all the way here. Water that restores stamina. Bread that enhances mana. Is it true?"
I nodded slowly. "All I can say is... try for yourself."
I summoned a chilled water bottle and a Mamon. Elvie plated it with practised hands.
Weslin took a bite and a sip, his brow arching in surprise.
"This isn't just good. It's alchemically enhanced," he murmured. "You didn't tell me you were an enchanter."
"I'm not," I said honestly. "The items just... work."
He stared at me for a long moment, then chuckled. "You're an odd one, Dirk. But you'll do well here. There's a dungeon just past the southern ridge. Adventurers flock there like bees to honey. If you set up a stall at the inn near the gate, you'll sell out before sunset."
Ella beamed. "Looks like we're back in business."
*****
Back Elven Town
Cloaked in a simple brown robe, Saint Athena walked through the busy streets of the town Dirk had left behind just days ago. Her golden hair was braided and tucked beneath a hood, her divine staff hidden in a cloth satchel.
At a local tavern, she overheard adventurers discussing "a magical food vendor who vanished overnight."
"They say he sold water that could recover mana," one elf muttered over his mug. "Bread that made your spells sharper."
"Gone now," the dwarf beside him added. "Heard the shop was closed. People say the merchant's travelling south."
Athena's eyes narrowed. She visited the closed shop next. Igor and Sylphie were inside, pretending to be normal vendors. "I'm looking for... a merchant named Dirk," she said softly. "I heard his products helped with magic enhancement."
Sylphie gave a polite smile. "Ah, Mr Dirk is away in training for now. Merchant studies and all that. Might be back in a few weeks."
"I see..." Athena scanned the shop, noticing the subtle magical residue in the air. There was power here—hidden, but real.
"Thank you," she said with a small nod. "If he returns, tell him someone from the Temple of the Grove is interested in a private discussion."
When she left, Igor locked the door behind her. "That was the Saint, wasn't it?" Sylphie whispered.
Igor nodded grimly. "And she's no fool."
Later – On the Road South
Saint Athena stood at the edge of a hill, watching the road vanish toward the horizon just outside the Elven town. "I can feel it now," she whispered to herself. "There's something divine about him... He's no ordinary merchant."
She summoned a small white bird made of magic, which zipped into the sky. "Keep an eye on him," she said. "And report everything."
*****
Baron's Mansion
At three in the morning, after Ella's condition stabilised thanks to Marda's temporary seal on the curse, I rode with Baron Weslin's trusted man, Felix—a stocky but kind-eyed soldier with a grizzled beard and a knack for storytelling.
He helped me set up a modest stall just outside the entrance of the Ash Dungeon—a yawning, stone-wrapped cave that exhaled cold mist with every passing hour. The area outside the dungeon was alive with activity—adventurers, mercenaries, sellswords, and even scavengers loitered nearby, tending to wound, prepping gear, or bartering for potions and maps.
I rolled up my sleeves and unloaded the first batch of goods: a few dozen bottled waters, packs of mamon, noodles, and a handful of hotdogs wrapped in banana leaves.
Felix eyed the food with curiosity. "Are you sure they'll buy this stuff out here?"
I handed him a water bottle and a mamon bun. "Try it. You're my first customer."
He popped the cap and took a sip—then stared at it like it was some rare elven wine. "Holly hells, that's smooth. Cold, too? How'd you do that?"
I just smiled and fixed my green-coloured mediaeval shirt. "Trade secret."
Then he bit into the mamon. "Soft as clouds. You might just outshine the dungeon's treasure at this rate."
Within minutes, word spread—a few adventurers limped over, curious. One of them—a half-dwarf with a bandaged arm—sat near my stall, clearly exhausted.
"Good morning, boys. Do you sell food?" he asked. "I've been eating dry jerky for two days."
I handed him a hotdog and a bottle. "Try this. On the house."
"Serious?"
"Consider it a trial sample."
He bit in, eyes widening. "This... this has flavor! Sweet!"
Soon, three more joined – two beastkin twins and a grumpy old mage with a dark red tunic named Gryven who muttered curses at his blistered feet. They sat around a small campfire Felix helped start, the faint golden glow casting flickers on their tired faces.
As dawn fell and the morning poked out over the cliffs, the air grew colder, and the conversation turned darker as I asked about the dungeon. I know we should hurry, but according to Felix, we need to plan carefully before going inside.
"You hear about the team that didn't return last week?" one of the twins asked, gnawing on mamon.
Felix stirred the fire. "Another one?"
Gryven nodded, puffing on a worn pipe. "They say the dungeon's shifting. New passages. New traps. Some rooms filled with fog... others with whispers."
"Whispers?" I asked.
"Aye," he said, voice low. "Voices calling your name. Telling you to step deeper. One lad swore he saw his dead brother there."
I swallowed hard. "And the monsters?"
Felix poked the fire with a stick. "More aggressive. Stronger. And some don't match the dungeon's rank anymore. The guild hasn't updated the threat level yet, but it's only a matter of time."
Despite the chill, a bead of sweat ran down my neck.
"I'm just here to sell food," I said with a nervous chuckle. Of course, it wasn't a lie, but according to Felix, we need to keep things secret, especially about the magical herbs for curses.
"Then you picked a hell of a location, lad," Gryven muttered, but he raised his bottle. "Still... I'll say this. Best water I've had since the queen's wedding feast."
Everyone laughed—tired, but thankful—as Felix looked at me worriedly as the early morning mist hung like a ghostly veil over the entrance of the dungeon. With the camp behind us still half-asleep, Felix and I checked our gear under the weak dawn light.
"Are you ready, lad?" Felix asked, adjusting the leather bracers on his arms.
"As I'll ever be," I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt as I fixed my tunic.
I had my sword strapped to my side, my backpack on the other side, enchanted subtly by my unknown magic. We stepped into the dungeon. It was colder inside, with a damp, earthy scent and faint echoes bouncing off the stone walls. Glowing moss illuminated the first corridor with a pale blue hue, giving everything an eerie shimmer.
Not even five minutes in, we heard snarling ahead.
Felix unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion. "Goblins. I can smell the little rats."
Sure enough, a pack of a dozen small goblins crept out from the shadows, armed with crude daggers and jagged spears. Their yellow eyes gleamed with malice. The first one lunged. Felix side-stepped and sliced it clean across the chest. "Stay close!" he shouted.
"Got it!"
Another goblin came for me, shrieking. I parried its dagger with a clang of steel, and, channeling the same force I used before, I slashed it across the stomach. It crumpled with a hiss.
"They're faster than I expected!" I grunted, dodging a spear.
Felix growled, "They're nothing yet. Just scouts."
Two more swarmed us from the left. I spun low, ducking a slash and thrusting my blade into the goblin's thigh. It howled and dropped its weapon.
Suddenly, one of the goblins leapt off a low ledge above us, targeting my head.
"DIRK—!"
I raised my arm in reflex. A faint blue barrier flashed just before contact, deflecting the attack. My heart pounded.
"Did you see that?" I shouted, slashing upward with burning energy. My blade ignited in a thin flicker of flame—just for a second—enough to roast the goblin mid-air.
Felix paused for a moment, staring. "You're definitely not a regular merchant."
I let out a shaky breath. "I... I don't think I am." We finished off the rest— the goblins scattering in retreat. The battle was short but intense, leaving my clothes streaked with green goblin blood and my arms trembling from the surge of power.
Felix knelt beside one of the corpses. "These weren't just stragglers. They were watching the entrance."
"Meaning?"
"Someone—or something—is organising them."
We took a quick break in a small alcove. I passed Felix a mamon and water. He took a bite, wiping sweat from his brow.
"You really brought bakery snacks into a dungeon?"
"Hey, carbs are energy," I joked, handing him another.
He smirked. "You're the weirdest warrior I've ever met."
We listened to the wind whistling deeper inside the cave, and the faint drips of water echoed around us. The deeper parts of the dungeon awaited, but I knew something had changed in me.
The power I'd used—it wasn't just a fluke.