[Chapter 272. The Transaction]

Zibnak took out a small notebook bound in what looked like dried, scaled skin, its surface shimmering with an iridescent sheen. He produced a quill from thin air—a long, needle-like appendage that seemed to grow from between his knuckles. The quill tip glowed with a faint blue light as it hovered over the page, waiting. As his inhumanly long fingers moved down the list, he began writing numbers with swift, precise strokes, the scratching sound the only disturbance in the silent room.

"You said you would like to sell most of them. Could you tell me which ones you want to keep?"

Searanox leaned back on the sofa, his muscles relaxing into the unusual softness of the cushions. He gestured with his chin toward the papers. "Let's see. There would be seventeen intermediate rings that give MP, and thirteen that vary for HP. Then all of the intermediate rings that give stats, as well as four intermediate storage rings." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he mentally sorted through the inventory. "All of the intermediate earrings, five poison resistance rings, and the immunity ring. Four earrings of communication, the rings of elemental resistance, five intermediate necklaces, the dungeon compass, three Endless Springs, and two lanterns."

As Searanox listed the items, Zibnak's quill darted across the page, crossing out each one with a single, decisive stroke. The ink didn't fade or spread; it remained dark and permanent. "That is quite a lot to keep." The merchant's voice carried no judgment, merely observation.

Searanox grinned, a feral baring of teeth that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That was not all. All of the whetstones, as well as all the repair kits. Now let's get into the weapons. I would like to keep Kasaka's Venom Fang and the Vital Tome. That would be all... never mind, let's make it four intermediate necklaces, and I'll also keep Angel's Grace."

Zibnak frowned slightly as Searanox named Angel's Grace, the briefest tightening of skin forming around his elongated eyes. He made a notation beside it with particular care, his quill hovering a moment longer than necessary.

"Give me a moment to run the numbers. I must warn you beforehand that the armor itself will not be as profitable as you might think. Since it is of Imperial origin, it doesn't sell well. The same goes for the weapons." Zibnak's voice had returned to its merchant tone, though something sharper lurked beneath the surface.

Searanox tapped his knee rhythmically, the sound filling the pause. "I trust that you will make a fair judgment."

"The System oversees every transaction inside these shops to ensure fairness. There is no cause for worry," Zibnak replied, turning his attention back to the numbers.

He stood up, the rustle of the parchment breaking the silence. Moving with an unnerving fluidity that defied his gaunt frame, his shadow stretched across the crystalline table as he approached a towering shelf of books and scrolls. Their spines bore symbols that shifted and writhed just at the edge of Searanox's vision. Zibnak selected a tome bound in tanned skin, its cover embossed with a single, spiraling sigil. Searanox recognized it instantly—it was the same ledger Zibnak had used during their previous transaction when he purchased the superior necklace.

Settling back onto the sofa, the cushions barely deforming beneath his slight weight, Zibnak began flipping through the book. To Searanox's astonishment, the pages were utterly blank. There was not a single word, not even the faintest trace of ink on the creamy vellum. Yet Zibnak's fingers traced lines down the center of each page as if reading invisible text.

`Is it similar to the Empty Tome that I gave to Vanessa? There would be no point in him using it if it was truly empty.`

Searanox watched as Zibnak's eyes darted back and forth, appearing to absorb information from the ether itself. The merchant muttered softly under his breath, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. His other hand scribbled numbers with blinding speed.

After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only minutes, Zibnak looked up from his notebook and fixed his yellow eyes on Searanox.

"Without everything you want to keep, and excluding the potions, the total amount is 9,133 coins," Zibnak stated drily, as if that amount wouldn't be an unfathomable fortune to most beings. His elongated fingers resumed their hypnotic tapping against his knee.

Searanox almost fell from the sofa as the number pulled him out of his thoughts. "Did you just say nine thousand?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The amount was staggering.

Zibnak smiled broadly, revealing rows of sharp teeth. "That I did. Would you like it in coin, or do you wish to purchase something?" He leaned forward slightly, his posture predatory, as if scenting Searanox's excitement.

"Well, let's see," Searanox began, trying to maintain his composure despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "The storage rings should have the lock and equipment functions. How much would that cost?"

Zibnak flipped through his ledger with impossibly precise movements. "I think you are referring to the switch enchantment. For an intermediate ring, that would be 140 for lock and 280 for switch. But first, would you hand over the items?" His tone was casual, as if discussing the price of bread rather than magical enchantments.

Zibnak stood and pulled a folded carpet from a nearby drawer, the motion so fluid that the drawer seemed to open on its own. He unfolded it with a flourish, revealing an intricate pattern of geometric shapes. The carpet shimmered with an internal light, its threads appearing woven from pure energy rather than any material substance. He gestured over it, his fingers making a flowing motion that seemed to activate an unseen mechanism.

Searanox stood and placed the contents of his ring onto the carpet, keeping only the items he had specified. As the first piece of armor made contact with the fabric, the carpet flared with a blinding pulse of white light. The item vanished into the intricate patterns, as if absorbed by a hungry void. One by one, the rest of the items disappeared, each contact accompanied by the same flash of light and a soft hum of magic.

Zibnak chuckled—a sound like glass shards tumbling in an empty barrel—watching Searanox's expression. The Dhampir's features had frozen in that peculiar way all beings did when confronted with System magic that defied understanding.

`Is that the same enchantment my tower uses to store gear, on a fucking carpet?`

The thought echoed in his mind, followed immediately by a colder one: What else can this creature do?

"It's a very handy enchantment," Zibnak explained. "Normally used to transfer larger items—whole cargoes, entire shipments of goods between worlds. But it will do just fine for the volume changing hands right now."

"I use something similar to this to store the items inside my tower," Searanox replied, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. The casual display of powerful magic—something he had to build an entire city to achieve—being replicated on a simple piece of fabric unsettled him.

After methodically dropping the last items onto the carpet, Searanox placed a worn leather pouch containing the storage rings on the crystalline table. "These are the storage rings."

Zibnak opened the pouch with delicate precision, his long nails avoiding the stained leather. The rings clattered onto the table's surface, discordant in the quiet room. He began sorting them by size with economical movements.

"That won't do..." he murmured to himself. "All of these intermediate rings already have an enchantment. The amount of coins I quoted was for blank ones." He slid four rings forward with the tip of a sharp fingernail. "These rings have one of the enchantments you requested." He paused, carefully picking up the fifth ring and holding it to the ambient light. "And this one costs more than I calculated... I will give you another 100 gold, bringing your total to 9,233 coins."

"That's fine by me," Searanox said, his mind calculating the implications. He unstrapped his Magitech Dronemancer's Gauntlet, letting it clank against the table. He pulled the superior ring of spatial storage out of another bag, set it down, then removed the grand ring from his hand. "What about these two?"

Zibnak's yellow eyes widened fractionally as he spotted the grand ring. He lifted it with exaggerated care, as if afraid to break it. "It has both the lock and switch enchantments, but also Locate." He turned it over, examining the intricate silver band.

"I think I know what it does by the name, but could you explain Locate?" Searanox asked, leaning forward.

"It is an enchantment that allows someone to locate its whereabouts with a specially attuned magic item," Zibnak explained, setting the ring down with deliberate slowness. "No matter where it travels, between dimensions or across worlds, the attuned item will always point toward it. A very expensive and very rare enchantment. Particularly useful for those who tend to lose important things." His toothy grin returned.

"Is there a way to take it off the ring? And just out of curiosity, is there an enchantment that forcibly empties out a ring?" Searanox's eyes remained fixed on Zibnak's face, his fingers tracing the cold metal of the grand ring. The weight of potential danger settled in his gut—a familiar but unwelcome companion in this twisted world.

"Yes, it's a one-time enchantment," Zibnak said, his fingers hovering over the ring. A slight note of worry entered his tone, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Are you asking because you received an empty ring?" His head tilted bird-like as he studied Searanox. "I can't take the enchantment off the ring, but I can buy it from you and sell you one with the right enchantments."

"You sound eager to get the ring out of my hands. Is there anything you'd like to say?" Searanox asked, his voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone as he searched for any flicker of deception beneath the merchant's carefully composed expression.

"Storage rings with the Vanishing enchantment are not cheap. They cost quite a lot," Zibnak explained, handling the ring with precision. "And since this ring came from the Empire, I am afraid to tell you that you might have made a powerful enemy." His words hung in the air—a stark warning delivered with the casualness of a shopkeeper discussing the weather.

"Then I'll take you up on the offer. I suspect this transaction isn't free," Searanox said, his mind racing to calculate the risks.

Zibnak smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "You're quite right. I would say since you have been such a great customer, I will only take four hundred coins for it."

"But aren't you painting a target on yourself by taking the ring from me?" Searanox asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, not entirely convinced by the merchant's nonchalance.

"Ahh, no. We merchants are protected by the System. We cannot be held accountable for where an item came from, nor can we disclose information about who sold it to us." Zibnak's voice held a note of absolute certainty the kind that comes from knowing the rules of the game and exactly how to bend them.

"If that's the case, then sure. Anything special about the superior one?" Searanox picked up the superior ring, its weight and texture a familiar comfort.

Zibnak looked at it for a moment and shook his head. "No. Same enchantments as the grand one, without Locate. I'll subtract 1,520 coins from your total and give you the ones with switch. Are they all empty before I take them?"

Searanox placed the ring back on his finger. He focused his will, and with a soft pulse of light, all the items still inside the ring materialized in a neat pile next to the table.

"Now they are."