The Omnipresent Force

The cold air stung against Elliot's skin as he surveyed the lifeless doll on the ground, remnants of the sealed artifact scattered around him. His body was still tense, a lingering adrenaline rush coursing through him from his earlier encounter. But the fight with the sealed artifact had taught him one thing: he needed to be more prepared.

With a steady hand, Elliot reached into his inventory.

I need to act fast

Knowing the doll's potential danger if left unattended. He placed it into his inventory, feeling a slight shiver as the object vanished into the space. 

No time passes for anything inside the inventory. It'll be safe there for now.

As his breathing steadied, Elliot realized something else. His injuries—bruises from the thugs' ambush—had completely healed. His skin was flawless again, unmarred by any signs of injury. He ran his hand over his chest, feeling no pain. It was as if his body had reset itself entirely. His muscles were stronger, the familiar strength flowing back into his limbs.

So that's how it works. My level-up isn't just about stats. It heals injuries too. Good to know for future fights.

The immediate threat had passed, but Elliot knew he couldn't remain in this alley for long. He needed to get to a more populated area—somewhere where he wouldn't draw attention, somewhere safer.

He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the main street, quickly blending into the flow of the city. His eyes scanned the crowd as he moved, looking for any signs of danger. The bustling energy of Backlund surrounded him, and soon he found a local bar tucked away on the corner. The warm glow of the bar's windows beckoned him inside, and he decided it was time to rest for a moment.

The bar was dimly lit, with a heavy scent of tobacco and stale liquor in the air. A few patrons sat at various tables, speaking in hushed tones. Elliot slid onto an empty stool at the counter, his eyes scanning the room while the bartender served him some water. He could relax here for a bit, but his mind was already working, piecing together his next move.

As he sipped his drink, he overheard a conversation from a nearby table.

"... you think it's real, don't you?" a rough voice asked.

The second man, a wiry figure, responded, "The lucky coin... Do you think it's the one from that mystical treasure?"

Elliot's ears perked up.

The first man grunted. "It's not just any coin, you know. I've heard it's connected to true luck—whoever has it finds treasure beyond their wildest dreams."

That sounds like a Beyonder item. One that I could really use.

Elliot leaned in slightly, trying to catch more of the conversation. "If you ask me, it's the real deal," the second man continued. "I'd kill to get my hands on it."

Elliot, careful not to reveal his interest too quickly, decided to approach the two men. He straightened himself, walking over to their table with a casual air.

"You two seem to know a lot about luck and treasure," he said, his voice nonchalant. "I'm looking for something... special. Something that could change a man's fate."

The two men looked him up and down, sizing him up. The scarred man spoke first, his tone skeptical but intrigued. "And what exactly are you offering in exchange for information?"

Without missing a beat, Elliot reached into his coat and passed the men a handful of coins—no pouch, just the weight of the money in his palm. "I'm willing to buy you a drink if you're willing to share a little information," he said smoothly.

The second man's sharp eyes studied the coins, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. "Alright. There's a gathering later today, in this very bar. Unofficial, but people like us come to talk business. You might find what you're looking for there."

The scarred man leaned back, his voice low. "Not everyone's welcome, but you seem like you know what you're doing. Just don't go blabbing about it."

Elliot gave them a slight smile. "Thanks for the tip," he said, standing up and heading toward the back of the bar.

___________________________

Later that evening, Elliot slipped into the private room where the gathering was taking place. The darkened room was filled with a variety of individuals, all speaking in low murmurs, their faces partially hidden by the shadows. As Elliot moved through the crowd, he was approached by the host—a tall, impeccably dressed man with a smile that seemed just a little too perfect.

"And who might you be," the host said, his voice smooth as silk. "A newcomer looking for something rare, I presume?"

Elliot nodded, playing it cool. "Yes, but not only that. I have something I'd like to sell," he said, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling the doll from his inventory.

The host examined it with a spectacle, his fingers lightly brushing over the doll. "Quite an unusual piece," he remarked. "It's not every day we get something like this."

Elliot nodded. "I understand. Take your time."

The host, after a brief pause, motioned for one of the patrons to approach. The man, wearing a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat, came forward. He seemed like a typical buyer—discerning but cautious. The host ushered Elliot, the buyer, and himself into a private room where the authenticity of the doll could be confirmed.

Once inside, the host set the doll on the table and displayed its details to the buyer. The buyer muttered something under his breath, performing a quick divination, revealing that he was a Seer. The air in the room shifted, and the buyer's eyes glimmered with an almost imperceptible light as he nodded.

"It's legitimate," he confirmed, turning to the host. "The details are accurate as well."

The buyer then scrutinized the doll for a moment, placed a stack of bills onto the table. "Three hundred pounds," he said, his voice cold.

"Deal." Elliot took the money without hesitation, pocketing the coins.

Not bad. Now I've got enough for the auction.

___________________________

Later in the evening, the auction began. The room buzzed with excitement as various items were presented for bid. Elliot, now with his newly acquired 300 pounds, scanned the offerings carefully. Most of the items were disappointing—either fake mystical trinkets or dangerous objects that no sane person would touch. But then, his eyes fell on an ordinary looking pen.

The host held it up, the silver pen gleaming under the dim light. Elliot's quickly activated his Observation skill to check its details.

___________________________

Ordinary Item: Silver Pen

Description: A normal pen contaminated by the power of Sefirah Castle.

___________________________

Elliot's heart skipped a beat.

That's! The Tarot Club... Klein Moretti... this is my chance!

He moved closer, adjusting his position to get a better look. The pen wasn't much to look at, but its aura was unmistakable. This item was connected to the Sefirah Castle, and through it, he could reach Klein and the Tarot Club.

The bidding began, starting at a modest 10 pounds. Elliot raised his hand without hesitation.

The price quickly rose, climbing with each bid. Elliot's eyes locked on the auctioneer as the price ticked upward. 50 pounds... 80 pounds... 100 pounds... The back-and-forth continued, each bid pushing the price higher.

Finally, the bidding reached 150 pounds.

Elliot's hand was raised, his eyes fixed on the host, the pen, and the mysterious bidder on the other side of the room. This was it—his chance to join the Tarot Club, to get closer to Klein Moretti, The Fool.

But as the last bid hung in the air, a voice from the shadows called out.

"I'll raise it to 160."

Elliot's eyes narrowed. The bidding war was far from over.