Chapter 84: Scammer
The crowd thickened around the seller, bodies swaying forward like moths toward a lantern. His voice, clear and theatrical, rang over the buzz of the street with a practiced confidence that belonged to someone who had done this far too many times.
"Welcome! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, mana users, mercenaries, apprentices of great potential and unfortunate poverty!" the seller began, sweeping his arms in an arc as though unveiling the heavens themselves.
"You have arrived at just the right moment! For today—yes, today only!—you are invited to partake in the grand game of fate, the trial of wisdom and daring, the one and only Mystic Artifact Fortune Game!"
Nolan arched an eyebrow from the edge of the crowd. "Mystic... Artifact... Fortune Game?" he muttered under his breath. "That name alone makes me want to punch someone."
The seller was undeterred by doubt or the skeptical glances being traded. If anything, he was feeding off them.
"It’s simple, my friends. Very simple. In fact, so simple that even a muscle-headed sword jock or a half-awake spell-chanter could understand!"
He paced before a series of small wooden boxes—each one painted in dazzling colors, covered with strange runes, and stacked in little pyramids. Every box had a small pull tab and a narrow, coin-sized slot at the top.
"This," he said, gesturing dramatically to the boxes, "is a game of intellect, of perception, of true vision! Each of these boxes contains an artifact! That’s right! A powerful magical object—perhaps one lost to time, perhaps one that fell from a Dragon Saint’s hoard, perhaps even one forged by the Blacksmith King of Mount Aurelius himself!"
Someone in the crowd gasped.
The seller grinned, then raised one finger. "But! Not every artifact is as it seems. Oh no. Some of them are duds! Fakes! Fool’s relics. Traps in the shape of treasure."
A ripple of murmurs passed through the onlookers. A few leaned closer, narrowing their eyes. Some arms crossed. Others gripped the coin pouches at their belts a little tighter.