Leo was a little dazed because he saw something that he never expected to be seen.
[Hidden evolution path appraisal -{fragmented [■■■■■■] (F rank)]
• Increase your class rank to D rank.
» Class will become strong as you grow.
• skill:-Appraisal -fragmented (F- rank)
»skill can be upgraded by its constant use the more you use skill, more you know skill, More you know skill more you can rewrite it's reality.
He was little dazed even only for a second. He can become strong with just F rank.
"Sure, there were stories of awakeners who broke past their ranks. But those people had influence, wealth, and time—things he didn't. And even then, they only managed to climb one rank higher. Never something as absurd as leaping an entire stage."
"My class will become strong as I grow. I can grow by increasing my stats level. Right?"
< Stats will grow by combat, practices, eating rare Medicine, refined core and going through baptism >
" Medicine,.. core...., baptism" he was mumbling through teeth he seemed a little annoyed.
" Easy to say - hard to act" A long breath escaped him. His hand moved through the air in a small, absent motion—part sigh, part surrender. Dismissing floating virtual word that only he can see.
As he walking absent mindedly he heard some group of awakener. Three guys in usual awakener armor walked by, swords hanging at their waists. The insignias on their chestplates said it all — they belonged to the same guild, and from their hurried tone, something big was about to go down in the Black Market.
The Black Market of the Grey Streets lay tucked within a tangle of side alleys — a place where days were calm night passed with activity and even law dared not linger. Leo knew the area well enough; if his memory served him right, nothing good ever came out of that place. It was a den where broken adventurers, information brokers, and smugglers thrived — trading in things that were better left unspoken. Illegal mana drafts, monster cores stripped from still-warm corpses, bounty slips for people who'd simply angered the wrong noble… the underbelly of the city moved quietly there, and gold was the only language anyone respected.
The days in the Grey Streets passed in quiet monotony. But when night came, this special region changed its skin.
The alleys stirred with movement, whispers, and deals that never saw the sun. That was when the Black Market came alive — a hidden pulse running beneath the cobblestone.
Everyone knew it existed, even the City Watch. They simply turned a blind eye. After all, it wasn't all bad business. People who couldn't afford the high prices of the upper markets came here to trade, repair, or craft with whatever scraps they could find. And the revenue — quiet and untraceable — still found its way back into the city's pockets.
So long as it didn't spill blood on the main streets, no one asked questions.
Leo followed the narrow alley until the noise of the surface world faded behind him. What opened before him was a maze of flickering lanterns and shadowed stalls tucked beneath the city's skin.
Vendors lined the cramped path, their faces half-hidden beneath hoods, eyes glinting like coins in the dark. Strange goods lay displayed under the dull light — monster cores still pulsing faintly with residual mana, blades forged from dungeon steel, and shards of pure mana crystals that could only form near the nests of C-rank or higher beasts.
Further ahead, a man leaned lazily against his stall, his frame broad and scarred. A faint tattoo crawled up the side of his neck — a mark Leo didn't recognize but instinctively knew not to question. His eyes were sharp, the kind that measured worth in coin or blood. The items laid before him were wrapped in cloth, only glimpses visible — curved daggers, vials of dark liquid, and a few crystals that shimmered faintly red, as if alive.
Leo knew though that he cannot buy but still wanted to explore.
Curiosity got the better of him. Leo let out a slow breath and whispered under his breath,
"Appraisal."
The faint hum of mana rippled through his vision. The world dulled, and faint translucent symbols began to shimmer above people and items alike. It was like pulling back a thin veil—suddenly, the truth of the Black Market unfolded before his eyes.
Names and fragments of data floated beside the vendors:
[Larn Voss – D-Class Thief | Skill: Shadow Bind (F+)]
[Mirra Kel – Rogue Alchemist | Skill: Catalytic Burst (E-)]
[Unknown – Concealment Detected]
Half the text flickered and broke apart, static lines crawling through his vision. The Fragmented Appraisal couldn't keep up — too many hidden stats, too many secrets layered upon one another.
Even the items glowed with scattered data strings —
[Beast Core (Variant)],
[Corrupted Mana Crystal],
[Rusted Dagger – Engraved with Curse Script].
Every stall was a blur of faintly shifting text, revealing scraps of truth that no one else could see. Some people had class names he'd never even encountered before — "Vein Drinker," "Contract Scribe," "Night Weaver."
His pulse quickened. These weren't normal classes. Some of them shouldn't even exist outside System anomalies.
The Appraisal skill strained, lines of text fragmenting into static before vanishing completely. Then—
[Warning: Unstable data field detected]
[Error: Appraisal failed — Target cannot be Appraised.]
A faint static pulse ran through Leo's head, and his vision distorted for an instant — as if his eyes were trying to force a truth the System refused to reveal.
The man glanced his way. Just once.
It wasn't long, but that single look was enough. Leo's breath caught — his fragmented Appraisal flickered off on its own, as though forcibly shut down.
The man's eyes were calm, unreadable… yet Leo could swear he saw faint golden circuits running beneath his skin, like threads of mana woven directly into his flesh.
Leo blinked hard, trying to steady his focus as the data in his vision scrambled and vanished. Then a voice cut through his thoughts — low, calm, and carrying a weight that made his spine stiffen.
"Brat… you shouldn't gaze where you're not supposed to."
"There aren't many peace-loving people around here."
Leo froze. The man hadn't moved his lips. The voice echoed inside his mind, clear as thought, laced with faint mana vibration.
Telepathy?
No—something stronger.
His pulse quickened. ' Skill can be traced?' He hadn't even looked directly at the man for long, and ' yet… the distance—he was at least thirty meters away. No ordinary detection skill could reach that far with such precision. The man has to be at least C rank or maybe higher' leo thought.
'And why does it feel like he already knew I was watching?'
The man's gaze lingered on Leo — calm, unhurried, yet heavy enough to make the air itself feel thicker. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and made a small, almost polite gesture — a quiet beckon to come closer.
It wasn't threatening. If anything, it looked gentle.
But Leo's instincts screamed run.
He took a single step back — and stopped.
Completely.
Every muscle in his body locked. His limbs refused to move, as if invisible chains had coiled around him. He couldn't even turn his head.
'What is this… pressure?'
The figure stood beneath a flickering lantern, half-shadowed, his cloak the same dull grey as the walls. His presence blended so naturally with the darkness that Leo might have missed him entirely if not for those eyes — calm, unreadable, and ancient. Leo got no choice but "obey".
Leo's steps stopped just few paces ahead of him.
The man wasn't sitting behind a stall at all — just on the cold stone ground, a frayed grey cloth spread out before him. His cloak was the same dull color as the alley walls, making him nearly invisible in the half-light. Only his face could be seen — pale beneath the hood, framed by a short, uneven white beard. His hair, the same shade of winter frost, caught the faint lantern glow.
If not for the faint weight pressing on Leo's chest, he could've mistaken him for a beggar.
Spread across the cloth were a few odd trinkets.
An old dagger lay among them pulsing faintly with residual mana.
Next to it sat two dull E-rank monster cores, their light flickering like tired embers.
A corked vial held what looked like liquid mercury, swirling slowly as if aware of being watched — [Unidentified Alchemical Residue].
Beside it rested a tiny crystal feather — impossibly delicate, shifting between transparency and light blue,
[Skyborn Relic Fragment].
And off to one side lay a small cube of black stone, smooth to the touch, absorbing the nearby light instead of reflecting it.
They were few, ordinary at a glance.
The old man's eyes lingered on Leo for a moment.
The old man studied Leo for a while, silent, eyes narrowing ever so slightly — not in hostility, but thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even, like someone speaking more to himself than to the boy in front of him.
"You are weak… no," he corrected, tilting his head faintly. "Your rank is weak."
He gave a quiet hum, almost amused.
"F-rank, was it?" the old man repeated, his tone somewhere between curiosity and faint amusement. "Can't recall the last time I met someone carrying that mark."
He leaned back slightly, eyes half-hidden beneath the hood.
"There are hardly any true F-ranks left in this age. The strong keep climbing until the world itself resists their growth… but the weak?"
He gave a quiet, knowing hum.
"For the weak, the chains are lighter. Every step forward is a breakthrough, every gain a rebirth. The strong struggle to rise an inch—while the lowly can still soar."
His gaze lifted, calm but sharp, as if seeing straight through Leo.
"Young man, do you wish to break past your limits?"
The merchant's voice was low, smooth, and inviting. "Ever heard of Forbidden Surge? Just one vial can push you beyond what nature allows… straight from F-Rank to E-Rank."
He smiled kindly, almost fatherly, and leaned closer. "If it were anyone else, I wouldn't even offer this. But you—" he gestured lightly, as if recognizing something rare, "you look like a refined man. Honest. It's rare to meet such people these days."
His grin widened, eyes gleaming with false warmth. "Perhaps it's fate that we crossed paths in this vast world, don't you think?"
"It's refined by Master Alren Voss, surely you've heard of him," the merchant added, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. "A C-Rank potion maker, once hailed as the Golden Brewer of the East. His work is nearly impossible to find nowadays."
He straightened his back proudly. "He's part of the Silverfang Merchant Guild—they control most of the high-grade trade routes across the central kingdoms. If it wasn't for my connections, even I wouldn't be able to get my hands on this vial."
The man didn't wait for a reply. Once he started talking, it was as if a floodgate had opened.
"You see, Alren Voss's potions are something else entirely," he went on, gesturing animatedly. "Back in his prime, even nobles lined up for a single drop of his brews! Of course, most of them can't even tell quality from trash these days—hah! But I can. I know real work when I see it."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if confiding a secret only meant for Leo. "The Silverfang Guild tried to hoard his last batch, you know? Said it was too 'unstable' for market use. Pah! They just wanted it for themselves."
His words spilled out faster, enthusiasm dripping with greed. He didn't even notice Leo's silence, or how his own voice grew louder with every boast.
Leo simply watched, quiet and unreadable, as the man rambled on—each word making the deal sound cheaper despite the golden promises.
Leo's patience was wearing thin. The man's voice had turned into background noise — a constant stream of self-praise and half-truths.
His body still ached from the mana binding, a dull weight pressing against his veins.
He clenched his jaw, suppressing the irritation bubbling up. The last thing he needed was to make a scene here. The black market was the kind of place where people died over a glare — or less.
The old man might have looked harmless with his crooked grin and wrinkled hands, but Leo had seen enough to know better. Men like him were dangerous when offended — quick to smile, quicker to strike.
'If he gets angry, he might just swat me like a fly.'
Taking a slow breath, Leo shifted his gaze back to the vial. He had no intention of arguing; he just wanted to know the truth.
With that thought, he quietly activated his skill.
As he said "Appraisal" beneath his breath.
[Item Identified: Forbidden Surge's Vial]
» Rank: Golden E-Rank
» Type: Potion Residue
» Description: The remaining essence from Alren Voss's original brew. Though degraded, it still retains partial potency.
» Effect: boosts the user's core capacity, forcibly advancing from F-Rank to E-Rank.
Leo's vision sharpened as he activated Appraisal. Lines of data flickered into existence — neat, structured, ordinary.
But then—something wavered.
A faint, foul grey glow seeped through the edges of the item's outline, pulsing like rot beneath the surface. It wasn't part of the usual System display. His pupils contracted.
[Origin eye: Activate]