I walk quickly across the city and I almost run. The cobbles grind under my boots.

I bump into a few people and I apologize and I keep moving. A hawker shouts about scrolls and someone argues about coin weights near a fountain that smells like cold iron and moss.

Hell's Sword is the hardest Skill to upgrade. The upgrades for Fire Slash, Fire Walk, Fire Shield and Fire Armor are pretty normal. They're called Flaming Slash, Flaming Walk, Flaming Shield, and Flaming Armor. And they're all Gold, not Platinum.

Whoever made those didn't have much creativity on hand, I think.

Take a right, King Baalrek says. I feel the bracelet on my wrist tighten and pull me to the right. The metal goes warm and it bites my skin like a tether that knows where it wants me.

Here? I ask.

King Baalrek nods.

Oh, by the way, do you have any idea what Elder Lioren was talking about?

Yes.

Ok? Can you tell me?

Yes, I can.

I almost stop and I groan in frustration. My breath fogs a little because a rune-vent leaks cool air from the stones.

WILL you tell me?

No.

Why do you have to act like this? Are we still in the hating stage? I thought we moved past that.

Keep your sarcasm for inferior races, Jacob Cloud. Now, to your left and you're there.

I make one more turn and I sigh, and I find myself in a bustling market where so many Skill Crystals sit on the stalls that the mana density in this place feels otherworldly. The air thrums in my teeth. Crystals gleam in racks that climb higher than men, and etched sigils drift like moths above them.

"I've never seen so many at once…" I mutter, and I feel amazed by the display of riches.

Most of them look beyond Platinum, and I can easily spot tons of Diamond ones. Some glow like trapped dawn and some hold a slow storm behind glass.

How are thieves not—

But then I see it.

There are a few Knights in full armor and I can't even read their aura. Their plates carry chasing that moves when they stand still, and their visors hide eyes that watch everything.

Oh. Those are very strong.

I look around and I let the bracelet guide me while I ignore the rest. I left Fatty at the tavern and I'm fully focused on finding the evolution of my main Skill. Foot traffic presses and releases like tides and I slip between robes and pauldrons while the bracelet tugs.

Once you evolve it, it will also influence the Black Flame, Jacob Cloud. But you'll have to upgrade both Hell's Sword and Dark Sword for it to evolve itself. And only after you max its level.

Wait, I won't need a Skill Crystal for it?

It's a fusion Skill, idiot.

I nod and I feel a spark of excitement. My palms itch the way they do when battle wants to start.

Finally, I come across a stall made of black cloth and block wood where…

Holy. That's…

One of my kind.

I can hear the smirk in King Baalrek's voice as I stare at a man with slightly reddish skin and two small horns on his head. The horns curve back like polished obsidian and faint heat leaks off him the way heat leaks off a kiln.

"You come to purchase?" the Infernal asks.

"Yes," I clear my throat. "I'm looking for the evolution of Hell's Sword. I don't even know the name, I'm sorry."

Suddenly, everyone around us goes stiff. Voices die mid-word. Cloth rustles and then stops, and even the rune-motes seem to hang.

It feels like you can hear a pin drop and I turn around and I try to figure out whether it's my fault.

Was this a faux-pas? I ask King Baalrek.

Asking an Infernal about robbing them of one of our people's Skills? I hear the man laugh.

Suddenly, a terrifying aura envelops me and almost makes me kneel to the ground. The pressure hits like deep water and my knees creak and my ribs feel tight.

Peak of True Diamond Rank, I hear King Baalrek sigh. Barely a commoner among my people.

"What did you say, kid? Do you care to repeat it?"

So the only seller of Hell's Sword is a lunatic member of King Baalrek's people, and that tracks. Now, without Hell's Sword evolution, which seems to be extremely rare, I don't think I can do much.

I spot something while I talk to him. There are a few dark spots on the man's skin and his eyes look glassy. He looks sick. His breath comes a touch sharp and a faint ash-tinge rings his nails.

Grimoire, Analysis.

[Constitution Skill Detected: Infernal Eclipse of the Body.]

[Infernal Eclipse of the Body: increases all Physical and Magical Attributes if cultivated during an Eclipse. It can only level up during sunset and dawn.]

[23 Flaws detected. 1 Critical Flaw Detected.]

I immediately summon the Critical Flaw in my mind.

[Critical Flaw: lunar phase poisoning. Infernal Eclipse of the Body has not been used properly. The Rising Sun Veins have been clogged by excess cultivation during sunset and not enough cultivation of the Skill during dawn.]

[Elaborating solution.]

Glyphs bloom across my sight and then lock into lines like a blueprint. The edges burn in pale red and each note sits where a vein should lie.

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Lines of instruction scroll across my sight and I straighten.

"Sir," I say with a crooked smile. "Do you have trouble waking up in the morning?"

The question is so out of the blue that the Infernal just looks at me, flabbergasted. His pupils narrow and widen like a cat that adjusts to light.

"What?"

"The mornings, are they hard on you?"

The Infernal man looks at me like I just went insane.

"No? Come on, we all know they can be hard, right? Who wants to wake up every day at dawn to cultivate a Constitution Skill, no?"

This time, the aura completely recedes and the man grabs me by my collar and drags me to the other side of the stall and puts a clawed finger at my neck. His skin feels hot through my shirt and the nail points like a needle.

"What did you just say to me?"

"You're poisoned, right? Your veins are getting clogged. This must be affecting all your other Skills. But, my master actually is an Infernal. He's… a weird character but—"

I AM NOT YOUR MASTER, JACOB CLOUD. AND I AM NOT WEIRD! I AM PERFECTLY NORMAL! ESPECIALLY FOR A ROYAL!

Someone's feeling touchy.

I AM NOT—

I tune out the Royal Infernal's voice.

"But, despite his weirdness, he showed me the…" I point at the stains. "I know the cure for it. I have a great deal of respect for your ancient race, sir. I promise, I mean no harm. I'm here to trade, and to help if I can."

The Infernal narrows his eyes and he looks conflicted and he puts me down. The heat coming off him cools a fraction and the cloth walls stop trembling.

"My name is Yekrek," the Infernal man says. "Who are you?"

"My name is Cloud, Jacob Cloud," I say with a smile. "Would you like for us to have some privacy while I explain?" I point at the bustling market.

* * *

Yekrek brings me inside the stall and my eyes widen.

"Is this…"

"Dimensional effect, kid. Who do you take me for, a beggar?"

The inside of the stall feels like a massive pavilion even though the exterior looks no larger than a small room. Shelves run in long rows and the air smells like hot stone and ink. There are items and objects of value everywhere, all neatly ordered. Skill Crystals pack whole cases. There are hundreds of them. Lanterns float at shoulder height and glow steady without flame, and a soft hum rides the air like a distant forge.

"So, an Infernal broke the vows to his people and trained a Human," Yekrek says. "I am no purist, no orthodox. But I don't believe you."

"Well, he wouldn't have taught me this."

Please, let this work.

I activate Infernal Veins and Infernal Wings of Ash. Heat flows through my limbs and ash-feathers fan with a dry whisper.

Yekrek takes a few steps back when he sees the translucent horns and the webbed wings made of ash.

"Those are…" Yekrek shivers. "Those are Royal Skills. What in the… You're insane."

"Huh?" I ask, confused, and I deactivate the Skills. I used them because King Baalrek said that this guy is a peasant or that category and that he isn't too important.

"Infernals do not pass secrets outside their race. Your master just broke that custom. And… who is your master?"

"Well," I cough. "That's reserved info. But, I can cure your problem."

Yekrek puts his hands on his face and he stands there for a moment. The tips of his claws tap his brow ridge like he counts days.

"I will never break out of True Diamond if I don't resolve this. What do you want in exchange, given you can actually cure me?"

"Just… sell me the Skill?" I say, and I shrug.

"You cannot tell anyone where you got it. I'll have you swear in blood."

"Alright," I say, and I shrug again.

"If your cure actually works, that's the price. You won't have to pay."

I DIDN'T TELL YOU HOW TO CURE THIS, DID I?! HOW DO YOU KNOW?!

Shush, I tell the Infernal King.

"Well, so the clogging is mostly in your Rising Sun veins, right?" I say, and I take the man's palms. "You need sun-attuned elixirs. If you have any, you can just take one right now and try to cultivate. Do not use any energy other than the Elixir. Do not absorb external mana. And, for the future, my friend, you will have to wake up at dawn. This problem was created by the fact that you only cultivate at sunset."

Yekrek looks at me, completely stunned.

"That can't be… but it is true that I've only cultivated the Skill at sunset."

He walks to a shelf full of potions and he rustles through them. He takes out a small vial of golden yellow liquid and he throws it into his mouth and he crunches it, glass and all. The scent lifts like warm citrus and pepper.

Eew.

That's special glass, idiot, King Baalrek sighs.

Still. Eew.

Yekrek sits on the ground for a few minutes and I twiddle my thumbs while I wait. The floor under me feels like slate and it gives off a slow heat from the dimensional wards.

Then he gets up and looks at me with wide eyes and says, "swear."

He cuts his hand and I cut open my palm, and I shake his hand and I swear that I won't reveal who gave me the Skill. His blood feels hotter than mine and it tingles where it touches.

"Well, that's—"

"Don't say another word. I don't want any other business with you. Matter of fact, come here."

He puts a Skill Crystal in my hand and then he waves a scroll in front of me. The crystal weighs heavy like a dense coal and a small flame spins at its core.

"Never come back to my stall again."

"Wait, do you have any Skill Crystal for—"

But the next moment, I'm teleported away. The walls snap into a bright seam and the ground jumps under me.

I'm outside the market, or that's where I think I am. Wind slaps my face and street noise rushes back in layers.

"How the hell—"

"Hey! Why did you leave me alone?!"

I turn and I find Fatty chewing on a large turkey leg and carrying a mug of beer. Grease shines on his chin and crumbs cling to his tunic like badges.

"You're not great company, you know?" he tells me and then he eyes the big Platinum Ranked Crystal in my hands.

"What's that?"

"You're a shameless bastard," I say, frowning. "I even paid for the food and you dare complain!"

"Oh, about that. I opened a tab at your name since you were stingy with your order. The bill will come straight at the Academy."

I facepalm and I grab Fatty by the large collar of his shirt. The fabric stretches and creaks like a sail under wind.

"Shut up, let's go. We need to find more Skills, including a few for you. I can't have you be useless, can I?"

* * *

We grab a few Skill Crystals for Fatty, something that the Grimoire recommended. And I also manage to find the Flaming Skills, thankfully. I also find the ones for Strength and Endurance and grip. Oh, there is also the evolution of Meditation. The new crystals come in cuts that look like gears and leaves and spears, and each one hums at a slightly different pitch.

The problem?

I look at the small pile of Platinum coins remaining in my hands. The discs carry a tower stamped on one face and a dragon head on the other, and the edges bite my skin because they are sharp.

"This is insane," I mutter. "How can the damn Skill Crystals be so expensive?!"

"Ytrial is full of money and even though a lot of Skill Crystals are brought here, most reach the place through second-hand buyers. Merchants hoard Skill Crystals, buying them in cheap locations, close to Dungeons. Or they send their men to do that. When they come here, they put a massive premium on them."

I look at the small pile of Platinum coins remaining to my name, no more than ten. A breeze moves them and they clink like fallen teeth.

"I—I can't believe this. We need to start making money, then."

"Yeah, how?" Fatty looks at me with skepticism. "I can cook."

"That's not going to make us money," I frown.

"Wait, how expensive is a Runic Notation for a Gold Skill?"

Fatty looks at the small pile of platinum in my hand with disgust.

"You can't afford it."

"You goddamn idiot," I say, and I slap the back of his head. "I'm talking about selling them!"

"Oh no, you want to steal them and sell them on the black market?! Help! A criminal! A criminal!"

"Aughh," I groan and put a hand on his mouth. "Shut up. Is there any book on how you write down Runic Notation around? I just need to know how to write it. I know a lot about Skills."

"Do you?" Fatty says, and he seems to materialize another turkey leg out of nowhere.

I look behind the man and I take a few big steps around his large circumference. A spice seller laughs when I orbit him like a moon.

"Where did that even come from? Do you have an Interspatial Ring?"

Fatty looks at me in disgust again.

"You really have poor eyes."

I narrow my eyes at the plump man.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he whelps.

"Discipline. Now, finish eating, wipe your hands. We're going to Ytrial's library. There's one, right?"

"Can you even read? Why do you look at me like that—don't you come from a backwater—ouch!"

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