Elsewhere, within the confines of a modest bazaar, chefs, craftsmen, and sellers conversed in trade; some blurting out special offers as the town’s denizens passed by. Children in ragged attire scampered through town, rushing past a clutter of various items while passerby adults discussed trivial gossip. Strolling past the rushing rugrats, Cyrene drifted through the bazaar, surveying the shops for new weaponry. The locals who noticed her greeted the young woman pleasantly.   

“Ey, lookit the li'l huntress! Killin’ them little devils for us, are ye?” A man blurted out. 

Cyrene turns her head in the direction of the voice. She greets the portly man bashfully with a wave of her hand.

“Y-yeah! Killing them good...!”  

A woman’s voice was next to call her.

“Keep up the good work!” 

“I will," she waves shyly. "Thank you."

Another woman called out to the lady. 

“Thank you for your service, mistress!”

“No problem!" She waves.   

The huntress continued to walk and check the wares of each establishment, yet nothing was catching her eye. At the same time, a pair of dead eyes occupying beside an empty merchant’s stand ogle intently at the huntress through his mask; his pupils casually moving through each motion she took around the bazaar. It took her some time, however, to finally notice yet another voice calling out to her. 

“Hey! Missy! Why don’t you swing by over here?”   

She looks around the area. Turning to the sound of the voice, she finds a purple cloaked figure, covered from head-to-toe, beckoning with his hand. She raises her eyebrow.  

“Are you talking to me?" She asks from afar.

“Hell yeah! You’re that huntress everyone’s talkin’ about!”

She twirls the end of her hair with her index finger. 

“Um, yes...” 

The man points to her sword.

“I couldn’t help but see you carrying around that stick by your side.” 

She quickly fell ire to the cheerful tone of his taunt, prompting her to come closer. He continues.  

“Dontcha think that needs some replacement? We can’t have the talk of the town wanderin’ around with nothin’ but that, can we?"  

Forgetful of her blade’s current state, she retorts by unsheathing it.  

“Oh, what do you know?  I've killed plenty with this!”

Seeing the broken weapon as is, Cyrene’s eyes averted the mysterious man, and she could feel her face flush ever so slightly as she attempted to conceal her weapon behind her. The man laughs at her withdrawal.  

“Hahaha, maybe ya did, but ya won't go far luggin' that old thing around! Don’t you think a skilled huntress like yourself needs something that packs a little more… “oomph?” 

Cyrene turns back to face the merchant. Her eyebrows furrow.

“Alright, stranger. I think I see what you’re trying to do. Sorry, I could do without your snake oil. Find another fool to hoodwink."

She turned around and waved goodbye. The merchant’s dead eyes returned to him when Cyrene’s back faced him.  

“Now hold on,” he calls out, “I ain't even tryna play it like that. C'mon, just humor me on this!

"I'm not interested in the slightest."

“Okay, then. I’ll stop beating around the bush and show you the goods. I ain’t beggin’ you to buy, but can you at least check' em out? For me?” He teases.

“For you?” 

Cyrene turns around and sneers. She firmly gates towards the uknown merchant.

“Who exactly are you anyway? Do I know you? I don’t believe I’ve heard your voice or seen your face around here.” 

The merchant does not retort. Cyrene stops in front of the merchant's stand. She moves her body left and right, trying to get a good look at the man's face behind the black mask.

“Would you mind showing me your face?” 

“Sorry, no can do," he chuckles. "I’m a bit of a shy guy, ya know!” 

“Of course you are," she smiles. "And I'm an impatient girl. You can show me your face or I can be on my way."

The merchant sighs. Cyrene rests her thumb on her chin, her eyes shooting toward the sky as she ponders. 

“Unless you’re willing to answer a question?”

“Shoot.”

The straightforward swiftness of his reply caught the young woman off guard. 

“R-really? Just like that?" She stammers. 

She lowers her and rests one arm over the other.

"Er-erm, well, it doesn't look like you're around here, so I can only assume you're a traveling merchant of some kind. I don't believe you're apart of this village... does that mean you've come from the Grotto?"

“From beyond the Grotto, actually.” 

“What? How’d you manage to get past all the monsters that are over there?” 

“I got a crapload of weapons in my cloak that I use to get by," he smirks and shrugs. "You said my stuff was all a sham, but I'm tellin ya, it's the real deal. I wouldn't have gotten to this spot without 'em."  

“Sure, if I were to humor you and believe that for a moment, even if your products are real, what good is a weapon if you don’t know how to use it?”  

The merchant taps his temple twice with his index finger. 

“Smart girl. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not the best fighter or anything. I'm just strong enough to get by on my own. And judging by the talk of the town, you’d probably kill me in no time if I tried something funny!”

“Right… and at the same time, you’re trying to sell me used, possibly useless crap?” 

“No, I’m selling you good used crap!”

Cyrene palms her face.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Whatever. Fine. Let me see what you have. As long as you leave me alone after this..."

“Good choice!”   

He opens the left side of his dusty lavender cloak to unveil a slew of weaponry underneath. 

“Got a whole buncha stuff for people willing to get their hands dirty. Whaddya think? Anything catch your eye?” 

Cyrene surveys the selection of armaments at his display. She spots gauntlets, peculiar armor for the fingertips, a slightly luminescent dagger, a normal-looking rifle, and other minor accessories.

Cyrene puts her hands on her hips as she inquisitively eyes th merchant's stash.

“How and why do you have so many weapons?”  

“Hey, you got your one free answer for your one question. I don't run a charity here, and I sure as hell am not trying to have a whole sit-down interrogation.” 

Cyrene rolls her eyes and sighs. 

“Don’t sweat the details," the merchant reassures. "Like all these other hardworking people I’m here to do one thing, sell you somethin’!” 

“Sure…” She replies, unconvinced. 

Though the cavalcade of trinkets was initially compelling, the huntress found herself losing interest rather quickly, a feeling the merchant caught with a slight glance of her faltering eyes. 

“I don't like that look on your face. Don't tell me you're not interested in anything I've got?"  

“Eh, I don't think these are for me, sorry.”  

She takes a step back and turns her body around. 

“I’m gonna check somewhere else. Better luck next time.” 

Just as Cyrene started to walk away a small child ran up to the huntress. He was sweating and breathing heavily. 

“Huntress! Huntress!” He tugs at her leg.  

Cyrene staggers slightly at his haste.

“H-Hey! What’s wrong?” 

“I saw something strange over by the cliffside! I-I think it was one of those monsters you slay! I couldn’t find your brother in town, so I came to you!” 

The merchant turns to Cyrene. She looks down at her sheathed, destroyed sword. 

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t-”

"Tell ya what, lady."

The merchant’s beckoned call attracted the young woman, instinctively making her turn to him. 

“Considering you’ve got an emergency on your hands, I’ll lend you one of these for free.”    

Just as she was going to reject his offer once more, her eyes peered over to his waist. He too carried a blade at his side. An odd sensation drew her closer to its presence. The shimmer in her eyes returned, and the merchant thought to capitalize. 

“How about that one?” She points to his hip.  

“Huh? This old thing?” He closes his cloak and pulls the sword out from its sheath. “It’s nothing special, really. You sure you want this thing?”  

Cyrene takes a deep breath while staring longingly at the sword. She nods. 

“Yeah, I'll take it." 

The merchant tilts his head and shrugs. 

If you say so. 

He grabs the sword from his waist and tosses it to the huntress. She catches it and he stares at the hilt of the sword. The merchant sees Cyrene’s hand reaching for the hilt. She clutches onto the handle and the merchant caustiously takes a step back from behind his stand. Staring longingly at the sword he snaps back into reality and looks at the woman. 

“You’d better get moving, kid.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

The huntress tosses her broken armament away and sheathes her new shimmering blade.  Cyrene turns back to the little boy. 

“I’ll take care of that monster, no problem,” she smiles. 

“Oh thank you, miss!”   

Cyrene walks away from the bazaar, heading east toward a small plateau. The small child grins from ear-to-ear as he watches the woman head straight into a dangerous trial without a second thought. The boy turns to face the merchant. 

“Isn’t she so brave, mister?” 

The merchant pulls his cloak inward to conceal his weapons. 

"Yeah, real brave kid," he responded dismissively. "Question, how long has she been hunting monsters?"

"Hm, I don't recall. The other day when her brother was in town, I overheard him talking with some of the other neighbors about her hunting. She may have only been hunting for a few weeks, I think." 

The cloaked figure ponders for a moment before leaving the stand. He waves back at the child. 

"I see. Thanks for the info." 

The merchant leaves without haste, the tone of his voice having become more robust. The puzzled child watches as the unknown man walks away.  

"Mister? Where are you going?"  

"Just gonna watch over the lady. Make sure she doesn't get hurt." 

"I-I wouldn't do that! Not with a monster wandering the Cliffisde!"  

"Don't worry about it, kid. Go play someplace safe."    

The merchant trails behind the unbeknownst young woman on her path toward the Cliffside.