Chapter 68: Visions of Things That Shouldn’t Be
In the Necro Market, Commander Urma and his wife, Ylvima, walked through the air-conditioned hall. Captain Luma followed a respectful distance behind them. Urma’s breath hitched as he took in the market. He had heard rumors of an uncommonly designed market, a place unlike any he had ever known.
The air was comfortable and cool, a stark contrast to the humid, dusty air of Stonehorn Crossing. The ceiling was a dome of polished stone, embedded with glowing light stones that cast a soft, ambient illumination, making the space feel like a tranquil cavern rather than an underground dungeon. The carved walls were intricate, depicting scenes of ancient battles and mythic creatures, but they were softened by lush, potted vines and hanging plants that trailed down from ledges.
"This is stunning," Urma said, his massive frame seeming to shrink slightly in awe. He gestured with a wide sweep of his paw. His wife Ylvima was just as amazed, her sharp eyes scanning every detail.
"There are so many people here," she murmured, noticing the diverse crowd of beastkin browsing. "This is similar to our house, but better. The air is so... clean."
"I agree," Urma said, his voice a low rumble. "How did they even build this place? The architecture, the air, the sheer size..."
"Could they have hired a master?" Ylvima asked, her brow furrowed in thought.
"No, I don’t think there’s any master that could design a place like this," Urma said, shaking his head. "I thought we would visit a damp, dark dungeon. This is a fortress of commerce."
Ylvima pulled him toward a section of the market where an entire wall was dedicated to wooden figures and furniture. The carvings were meticulous, with every piece of furniture displaying ornate floral patterns and miniature figures depicting warriors in dynamic poses. Ylvima picked up one of the small, six-inch figures. "Darling, this is similar to the ones you bought, right?" she smiled, her eyes sparkling with delight.
Urma came closer, inspecting another figure with an even more elaborate helmet. "Yes, they are. I wished I had time to choose before, but I just couldn’t risk them being sold to someone else, so I bought all of them." He remembered the thrill of the caravan sale, the frantic rush to secure the limited collection before others could. The feeling was a childish glee he rarely allowed himself.
"They’re all lovely, even if you bought all of them, there are no bad quality ones," Ylvima said, her finger tracing the smooth lines of a figure’s armor.
"They are, down to the smallest detail," Urma agreed. He then looked at the wide selection of mini-figures, ranging from various anime characters to meticulously detailed models from Warhammer 40k. He recognized some of the iconic designs, a testament to the skill of the carvers.
"Darling, look at this," Ylvima said, her voice a mix of awe and surprise, as she pointed at a life-sized wooden carving of a Space Marine. The figure stood seven-foot-six, its massive, layered armor carved with incredible precision. It held a bolter in its hand, its posture imposing and ready for a fight. Urma, a seven-foot-tall bearfolk himself, was amazed at the size and presence of the statue.
"Woaaahhh, what is that thing?" he said, instinctively taking a half-step back. The sheer bulk and the beauty of the armor fascinated him. "If this was real, my instincts would tell me to run. This thing is both scary and beautiful."
"I agree," Ylvima said. Their heads panned to the other figures on display. "But this place in its entirety is beautiful."
A skeleton staff member approached them. His suit and tie looked formal and professional, and a mask covered his skeletal face, leaving only his glowing eye sockets visible. His movements were fluid and graceful. "Welcome to the Necro Market, sir, madam. How may I be of assistance?" he said, his voice a smooth, low tone.
Both Urma and Ylvima were slightly taken aback by the staff’s politeness. It was a stark contrast to the gruff, often dismissive, merchants they were used to. Urma, still looking at the mini-figures, with two in his hand, turned to his wife. "Imagine our room with a full collection of them."
"Can we buy them all?" Ylvima said, a playful glint in her eyes. "I mean, not all of them, but enough to fill our room."
Urma smiled. "Let’s ask this fellow here." He cleared his throat. "Hello, we have a question. Can we buy all the figures and how much would that be?"
"Most certainly, sir," the staff member said, turning to a small, floating orb that emitted a soft glow. "All in all, including the life-sized figures, the total cost would be 305 gold."
Urma was shocked. "That’s... that’s too expensive, I guess." He had brought just enough money for the trip and had just impulsively spent all his savings on the few mini-figures he had bought during the last caravan sale.
Ylvima just smiled. She held his arm and leaned in. "Don’t worry, darling, I’ll pay for it."
Urma was concerned. "Are you sure? I should be the one paying for them."
"Don’t worry, it’s not a problem," Ylvima said. She turned to the staff. "Do you take royal gold coins?"
"Absolutely, madam," the staff member said.
Ylvima took a velvet pouch from her side and handed it to him. "Please keep the change," she smiled. The staff member took the pouch, bowed politely, and said, "Thank you for your wonderful purchase, madam."
Just then, the manager appeared. Urma noticed him and turned. "Sir Urma, Madam Ylvima," the manager said, nodding. "I have notified the owner. He will be with you at any moment."
Urma nodded. "I will be waiting." The manager walked away.
In what seemed like a second, Karl appeared in the distance. He wore his classic business suit, which turned the heads of nearby beastkin customers. They had heard of the mysterious Dungeon Lord but had never seen him in person. He walked by, nodding to them as if in greeting, and they bowed in return.
What was different was that unlike the staff, who wore masks and gloves to make customers feel comfortable, Karl wasn’t hiding the fact he was a skeleton. His bare skull and skeletal hands were visible to all, a deliberate display of power and confidence. Even Ylvima stopped and looked at Karl, as did Urma.
"Is that the owner of this place?" Ylvima asked, her voice a hushed whisper.
Urma smirked. "Oh, that’s him alright. Just look at that undead mana he’s emanating." The bearfolk’s eyes changed to a glowing yellow as he focused his inner sight. A vortex of dark, potent mana swirled around Karl, a quiet hurricane of power that only those with keen senses could perceive.
Ylvima smirked back, a hint of challenge in her tone. "Do you think you would win if you fought him?"
Urma paled slightly. "I don’t think so. The manager alone is powerful enough for me not to act funny, but that guy... he is a fucking monster. I’m telling you, Ylvima, he is something else entirely."
Ylvima smirked. "I think if he faced my father, they would be at a stalemate."
Urma said, "You think so? I know your father is the third strongest in the entire region, but I still don’t think that guy can win against your father in a duel."
"No, not a duel," Ylvima said, her eyes widening. Urma became uneasy. He knew his wife belonged to a bearfolk bloodline with a unique ability to sense a person’s potential. He watched as his wife used her ability, her eyes glowing further with a deep, spectral light, focusing on Karl as he walked toward them.
As she began, fragmented visions assaulted her mind, each one a flash of overwhelming, incomprehensible power. She saw military prowess on a scale she couldn’t fathom: lines of strange, iron behemoths she could only identify as "tanks," and perfectly coordinated soldiers marching in formation. She saw massive, winged machines—"jets"—screaming through the sky, and colossal steel frigates, carriers, and destroyers sailing through an endless sea. She saw industrial manufacturing lines, a dizzying blur of motion and creation, and a complex network of logistics that moved resources with machine-like efficiency.
She couldn’t understand any of it; the shapes and concepts were alien, impossible. The final fragmented vision was an explosion so great it engulfed everything she had seen before, a silent, all-consuming fire that made her very soul tremble. She canceled her ability, stumbling back and kneeling on the floor, breathing heavily and sweating.
Urma was instantly by her side. "Darling, are you okay?"
His words couldn’t reach her. She was thinking to herself, Who is he? Our history told us the undead legion isn’t capable of anything other than turning more corpses into their own army, but this is not like what i’ve seen. Who is he? I don’t know what I’ve seen, but he is the most dangerous being I’ve ever known. I need to inform Father about this and see what he knows.
Urma, still concerned, asked again, "Darling, are you okay?"
Ylvima stood up, smiling. "Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I just overused my ability a lot," she chuckled, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel.
Urma was skeptical. "Okay... do you want to come with me? We will be discussing things. You may be interested in."
Ylvima said, "No, you go on ahead, I’ll be here browsing." She smiled, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Urma said, "Okay, just rest for a moment and hang on."
Ylvima nodded.