The Flying Emporium

To the people in the V.I.P seating area-that was those who recognized Miriam and Timothy and understood the relationship of the two-the last broadcasts and the intense bickering afterwards had been a cheerful and welcome distraction from the previous drama whose aftereffects could still be felt all over Severin’s mountaintop.

In the grand scheme of things, however, the two submissions didn’t really stand out and were soon forgotten. Neither one was a serious contender to win the competition.

The show simply proceeded as normally as current circumstances allowed.

With a real novelty coming next, something Severin had been looking forward to since the very beginning.

For the first time, thus far, it was up to regular people, meaning those without a class, to make their contribution.

And twice in a row.

It was hard to tell whether Jake shared Severin’s feelings on this or if it was merely his years of experience as a host and commentator that kicked in, but Jake didn’t miss any opportunity to highlight this fact in an attempt to hype up the audience.

But ultimately, the exaggerated expectations he created only made the following disappointment all the greater; a contender’s special circumstances clearly didn’t guarantee an entertaining show.

Sadly, that was true for both of the following shows.

First was a rotund merchant advertising his Hanvian branch and its wares. Knifes and forks, satchels and cups, pots and pans, sleeping rolls and tents, food and drink. Ordinary, everyday stuff. Things that were essential for regular people and adventurers alike.

The other was an elderly businessman, one who was rich enough, according to multiple of Jasmine’s guests who recognized him, to actually being able to afford a class-orb if he so desired.

Like the merchant before him, this man, too, used this opportunity to advertise his company’s services, forfeiting every notion of actually fighting for the main prize of the event. That was, he managed a mercenary outfit specializing in escort missions, primarily used by merchants such as the one aforementioned.

But that was not the clientele the man was targeting with this stunt. Instead, he used this rare opportunity to speak in front of so many adventurers to try to recruit some new muscles.

The reception for both of these submissions had been reserved, to say the least. But at least the two men had enough sense to keep their programs short enough for them not to be cut off midway by the organizers.

But while even their flimsy excuses as to what made their contributions truly novel, and therefore eligibility to be screened in the first place, had been borderline, Severin was secretly impressed with both of these people. Unlike the audience, he wasn’t at all upset, instead praising their entrepreneurship and business acumen.

In his mind, they were early adapters, who saw an opportunity in this entirely new medium and acted on it.

And though unexpected, it wasn’t like Severin had expressedly prohibited the participants from using his platform to advertisement their wares and services.

“Well. Thank you. I guess. That was certainly… something.” While Severin could find humor in this situation, Jake had to scramble for words, careful to maintain some sort of professionalism and to not accidentally voice his true thoughts on the matter, all in an attempt to defuse this awkward situation. Two submissions in a row had been met by boos instead of applause, and the two contributions before that had not exactly been well received either.

Jake, as the host and face of the event, couldn’t help feel a certain amount of responsibility for this. But in reality he had, of course, no direct influence on the program - there was little he could do except pray.

“Let’s see who is our next contestant, shall we?” His rhetoric question was followed by a short paused during which the moderator consulted his list of participants. He did this more out of habit than anything else. At his usual gigs he typically knew the names of each and every participant-or combatants rather-with enough experience and background knowledge, accumulated over the years in the industry, that just his commentary alone could liven up even the dullest and most boring event and turn it into a success; that’s what he was paid for.

This time, things were different. Not only didn’t he get to comment on the actual action, and was only afforded enough screen-time to make a few remarks before and after each screening, but so far he hadn’t recognized even a single participant’s name.

But when he looked down onto his list, this time it was different-his prayers seemed to have been answered. This time, he came across a familiar name.

“Ha, please excuse my pause,” he excused his short lapse of attention before announcing with confidence and despite actually knowing what awaited them, “but I think we might be in for a treat. This next person is certainly not an unknown in these parts. Many of you should recognize her. But judge for yourselves as we switch over to the Lone Wolf Zarah!”

The moment Jake pronounced that name, a noticeable air of excitement washed over the crowd.

Those who were in the know and recognized the name, largely adventurers with some years under their belt, were visibly thrilled; this was an elusive figure and whatever they had to share was bound to be extraordinary. As for the ones who didn’t recognize the name, the shift in atmosphere alone was enough to arouse their curiosity.

Severin belonged in the second camp of people.

“Who...?” he asked, also not oblivious to his surroundings.

The fact that Mylana, Samuel, and Jasmine and her guests-all big shots in their respective fields-seemed to immediately recognize that name only made him even more intrigued.

One thing, as the image on the big screen changed, was certain, however. This was not one of his regulars.

There was no way he would ever had forgotten this face that was marred by scars. Across her right eyebrow, her nose, and an especially large one reaching from the bottom of her left jaw almost all the way up to her eye. That was not to mention countless smaller ones.

And it wasn’t just her face, either. Every single one of her exposed body parts was similarly marked. If not more so. When on her face it had only been cuts, hers shoulders, arms, and hands also displayed several burn scars in addition to those.

Curiously, Severin realized, not a single recent injury seemed to cover the woman’s dark skin.

“Lone Wolf Zarah,” Samuel reiterated. “[Rogue].”

Severin made a double-take at the mention of her class. “[Rogue]? Are you sure she isn’t a [Berserker]? Or maybe a [Flagellant]? If that is a thing?”

Severin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, but judging by Samuel’s voice, the half-giant had an amused smile on his face as he further explained,

“She earned her moniker for famously having surpassed the Gold Rank, working exclusively alone. Meaning she doesn’t group up with other people. No guild either, if I’m informed correctly.

But that was years ago. Who knows what rank she actually carries nowadays? One thing’s for certain though, she’s as tough as they come.”

“She’s the real deal,” even Mylana agreed.

Somehow this superficial introduction left Severin with more question than it answered. But now was not the time. Further questions would have to wait. For now Severin decided to watch and hear what this blonde adventurer, who, despite all her scars, still maintained a certain attractive charm, had to say.

“…and so it has always been my philosophy not to rely on others in circumstances of life and death. I prefer to trust myself. My body, my skills, my preparations.

In short, I trust the work I have put in.

Those are things you have to figure out for yourselves.

But even I have a partner I can’t do without - my equipment. It is just as important as those other things I just mentioned.

And it also is an aspect I can teach you about. How to maintain it, but also how to choose it in the first place.

Don’t be fooled. It’s not quite as easy as comparing tooltips and picking the item with the most stats on it,” she warned.

“As an inexperienced adventurer with no guidance, I had to learn this the hard way.

I will share with you some of the knowledge I have learned since.

So if you don’t want to end up looking like me, I recommend you pay attention,” something in the way the woman called Zarah said those last words, gave Severin the distinct feeling she actually enjoyed showing off her scars, and wasn’t nearly as embarrassed as her words might have otherwise indicated.

That introduction was followed by a long monolog.

“Source the Society’s freely available information database before engaging with a specific enemy or dungeon. There is a reason it exists.

And then make sure you not only meet the suggested defensive values for your particular armour-type, but surpass it. By at least twenty percent. Always assume one piece of equipment is going to break.

Also, I know it is tempting, but don’t include temporary buffs into this consideration. Always over-prepare. And don’t think you can skimp on this because you have a group and think everyone has your back. They only do until they don’t.”

Zarah’s lecture, under normal circumstances, would have been way too dry for Severin’s liking, but at least until this point didn’t mind; her unique charms had captured him.

But at some point, even those weren’t enough to keep him interested any longer; as it turned out, this had only been the prelude and things soon became more and more technically. That’s when he tuned out entirely.

The advantages and disadvantages of handcrafted versus monster-dropped armor were of little consequence to him.

Similar irrelevant to him were the woman’s insights regarding the weight of one’s equipment, how it affected one’s mobility and what tradeoffs, in her opinion, were acceptable to make in this aspect, and which weren’t.

The section about resistances and by how much those should be overcapped, as she called it, wasn’t of especial interest to him either, and neither was the part about secondary defenses such as block and evasion.

Only her reminder that the Society’s official certification did only protect against straight-up scams and fake tooltips, not against poor craftsmanship or reasonable prices, was of some interest to him.

‘Well, at least the adventurers in the audience seem to be engaged,’ Severin thought to himself, though he wondered if not at least some of those people, like him, were more captivated by the short-haired woman herself.

“...in summary, dress for the occasion.”

Hearing those words, thinking the scarred [Rogue] was finally concluding her lecture, Severin perked up. Only to immediately be disappointed.

“But while arguably the most important aspect of your equipment, as it is your ultimate lifeline, your defenses are only a part of the whole picture.

I said this before and I’ll emphasize again: Don’t go out of your way to get offensive stats or properties onto your armor unless your defensive requirements are already satisfied. If that leaves you lacking in a different area, that simply means you have no business fighting these enemies in the first place.

Still, that leaves us with the offensive side of things. Namely, your choice of accessories, enchants, and, of course, your weapon.”

Deflated, Severin sank deeper into his seat, as another torrent of words washed over him.

Another lesson, this time about armor penetration values, about damage and weapon types, about base damage, and about the difference between damage increases and amplifications.

Luckily, this time around, things turned a bit more visual and therefore engaging, as during this segment of her presentation Zarah incorporated one of Severin’s training dummy’s demonstrating the impact each of those stats and attributes had on ones actual damage.

But even that became boring to Severin after some time, no matter the lecturer.

‘Might as well stretch my legs for a bit before things become crowded again during the break.’

Almost as if the roles between him and the girl had been reversed this time around, it was Emily who seemed glued to the screen, and closely followed each of the woman’s words and actions, whereas Severin was the one who decided it was time to go grab a bite.

Inconspicuously, Severin excused himself from the scene and made way towards his kitchen–there were only so many elvish veggie snacks he could stomach until he began craving for a slice of his pizza-, when all of a sudden...

Ding

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