Master Zellan (Archmage & Artifact Dealer), Vladruc the Collector (Rare Magic Items)


    The moment they stepped onto Mystic Way; the very air shifted.


    Unlike the bustling merchant districts, they had strolled through earlier, this part of Veyne had a different presence—a weight in the atmosphere that pressed against the skin, humming with untapped energy.


    Tall, rune-etched buildings stretched toward the sky, their surfaces flickering with hidden enchantments. Floating lanterns of soft, azure flame lined the path, casting an ethereal glow upon the cobbled streets. Strange sigils glowed faintly beneath their feet; ancient wards woven directly into the foundation of the city itself.


    It was a place for mages, scholars, and seekers of the arcane—where those who sought power did not barter with coin alone, but with knowledge, secrets, and fate itself.


    And at the very heart of it, standing tall amidst the eldritch glow, was The Arcane Bazaar. A branch of the Magic Academy of Ravenloch Kingdom.


    The Magic Academy of Ravenloch Kingdom was not merely a center of learning—it was a living testament to faith, discovery, and the enduring legacy of a being they revered beyond all others. For 50,000 years, scholars, enchanters, and mages dedicated their lives to deciphering the arcane symbols left behind by The Magician, the Creator of Laoyon.


    To them, these ancient symbols were not just marks of power; they were divine scripture, the very foundation upon which their entire understanding of magic was built. Every spell, every enchantment, and every breakthrough in magical study could be traced back to these mysterious symbols, remnants of a power so vast it had shaped an entire world.


    The Academy’s branches, scattered across every major city, each took part in unraveling the mysteries left behind by The Magician. Over generations, they pieced together fragments of his will, his knowledge, and his influence, creating a vast repository of magical understanding. It was because of these teachings that magic flourished in Laoyon, shaping civilizations, governing elements, and granting practitioners the ability to bend reality itself.


    But even as they grew in power, they never forgot the source of their enlightenment. They were not just scholars but devoted believers, practitioners who revered The Magician not just as an ancient figure but as something far greater—a being who had given form to their world.


    A towering structure of polished obsidian and glowing arcane symbols, its entrance pulsed with faint magic, welcoming only those attuned to the mystical arts. Above the door, runes shifted constantly, as if rewriting themselves to reflect the state of the world.


    Then, Dominic just lost it.


    With an excited breath, he rushed ahead. "Finally! A shop worthy of my time!"


    Arden smirked, hands on his pocket. "He’s worse than me in a weapon store."


    Leigh let out an amused sigh. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy."


    Selva chuckled. "Then this is going to be fun."


    The moment Dominic crossed the threshold, everything changed.


    The walls shimmered with energy, lined with floating tomes that whispered their contents in hushed voices. Crystals of all sizes pulsed faintly, their glow shifting in response to the energy in the air. Scrolls, charms, wands, and relics sat locked in glass cases, humming with potential. The scent of incense mixed with something almost metallic—the raw, unfiltered presence of magic itself.


    It was a magician’s paradise.


    Dominic stood in the center of it all, his golden eyes sparkling with childlike wonder, fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to grab everything in sight. If Arden had a battle-maniac mode, then this—this—was Dominic’s equivalent.


    And yet, the moment he stepped forward…


    Silence.


    It started with the shopkeepers.


    A man adjusting a rack of enchanted amulets turned, eyes widening before he dropped to his knees.


    A woman dusting a shelf of runes froze, her expression shifting from confusion to sheer awe.


    The murmurs of customers faded as more heads turned toward Dominic. Eyes filled with disbelief, reverence, and something else—recognition.


    Then, one by one, they knelt.


    It wasn''t forced. There were no words spoken, no order given—just an overwhelming force that swept through the shop like an unshakable truth, compelling them to bow. Some fell to their knees without understanding why, their bodies reacting before their minds could catch up. Others trembled as if they had just glimpsed the divine, their lips parting in silent reverence.


    The energy in the air shifted, thick with something ancient, something woven into the very fabric of Laoyon itself. It was not just magic—it was recognition.


    The weight of the silence bore down on Dominic, who stood frozen in the middle of the shop, golden eyes darting around in growing confusion.


    Arden arrived just in time to witness the entire store on their knees. He blinked. Then blinked again. Slowly, he nudged Leigh with his elbow, speaking in a low, amused tone.


    "Okay. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never made an entire shop bow the second I walked in."The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Leigh, just as dumbfounded, could only shake her head. "What… is happening?"


    Selva, arms crossed, took in the scene with a slow whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned. Either he’s royalty, or we just walked in with the second coming of a lost god."


    Then, from the kneeling crowd, one shopkeeper dared to speak.


    His voice trembled, his breath uneven, as if saying the words required a strength beyond him. He kept his head bowed, forehead pressed to the floor, unable to meet the gaze of the one standing before them.


    "Y-you…" He swallowed hard, hands shaking as he pressed them against the ground.


    "You are… our Lord."


    A ripple of hushed murmurs followed, whispers filled with awe, disbelief, and sheer reverence.


    "Our Lord, the Magician."


    Dominic stiffened. His golden eyes flickered, emotions flashing too fast to name.


    Then Arden, blissfully unfazed by the gravity of the moment, clapped a hand on his shoulder and grinned.


    "Well, buddy. Looks like you’ve got a fan club."


    Dominic stared, golden eyes flickering with uncertainty. He opened his mouth—then closed it.


    Then opened it again.


    “...What?”


    His voice barely carried over the suffocating silence.


    Leigh, eyes darting between the kneeling shopkeepers and the sheer reverence in their gazes, took a slow step toward him. Her voice was low, careful. “Dominic… what did you do?”


    Dominic swallowed. “I… don’t know.”


    Arden, watching the scene unfold like a play he had no script for, finally found his voice. “Okay—wait” He gestured wildly at the entire store. "Why is everyone on the floor?"


    Master Zellan stepped forward, his movements deliberate, calculated. Measured.


    Then, he bowed. He bowed deeply.


    A bow not given to kings. Not to emperors.


    But to something far beyond mortal sovereignty.


    "I remember creating Laoyon as a game. As a challenge," Dominic murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. "I remember crafting its foundations—its rules, its essence—but..." He trailed off, his grip tightening around Arcane Magnus. His fingers dug into the staff as if grounding himself in the present.


    "I never thought it would become this." His golden eyes swept over the kneeling figures, the weight of fifty thousand years pressing down on him.


    "I never thought it would become this prosperous."


    Master Zellan bowed his head once more, his voice filled with reverence. "And yet, here it stands. A world that endures, long after its maker left. Welcome back, my Lord."


    A sudden surge of energy pulsed through the air as Arcane Magnus, Dominic’s ever-loyal staff, trembled in his grasp. A soft glow engulfed it before it shimmered and shifted—taking on its human-like form before kneeling on one knee.


    "Welcome back, Master," Arcane Magnus said, his voice steady yet filled with something unreadable—devotion, nostalgia… and something deeper.


    Then—the memories came.


    Like a flood, flashes of a time long past surged into Dominic’s mind, drowning him in fragments of a life he barely remembered. Fifty thousand years of forgotten echoes, of choices made and paths abandoned. Of power, responsibility, and a game that had become something far greater than he had ever intended.


    And for the first time in his life, Dominic Felicio—the Magician—staggered.


    Dominic gasped as the weight of fifty thousand years crashed down on him. His vision blurred, flickering between the present and the past—faces, voices, battles, betrayals—memories he had long since abandoned now clawing their way back into his mind. His chest heaved, his breaths shallow and uneven, as if the very air around him had become too heavy to bear.


    His fingers curled into a trembling fist, nails digging into his palm. Hatred surged within him. Not for Laoyon—not for this world that had flourished in his absence—but for the memories that came with it. For the betrayal. For the ones who had turned against him.


    “Traitors…” The word left his lips like a curse, barely above a whisper, yet it echoed through the silent shop like the crack of thunder.


    Arden and Leigh stiffened at the raw emotion behind that single word.


    Dominic stood there, frozen, his golden eyes distant, his body tense, as if caught between the past and the present. His whole form trembled with unspoken rage, grief, and a sorrow so deep it felt like an abyss.


    Then, as if breaking free from the chains of time itself, he turned back to them.


    His gaze, once burning with anger, softened—only to be replaced by something far more painful.


    He saw them not as they were now, but as they were then.


    The Fool.


    The Star.


    His vision blurred again, and for the first time in all their travels, Dominic Felicio—the ever-confident, ever-smirking Magician—let his tears fall.


    His voice cracked.


    “Fool… Star…”


    Leigh’s breath hitched, her heart clenching at the brokenness in his tone.


    Arden’s usual smirk faded; his expression uncharacteristically serious as he stepped closer. “Dom…?”


    Dominic clenched his jaw, fighting against the flood of emotions that threatened to consume him. His lips trembled; his fists still tight at his sides as he tried—failed—to contain the storm within him.


    Then, his knees nearly buckled.


    “I’m sorry…” His voice shook, his tears now falling freely. “I’m so sorry… for what happened 50,000 years ago.”


    Silence filled the Arcane Bazaar.


    For the first time, Dominic wasn’t speaking as their friend.


    He wasn’t speaking as the eccentric magician of their trio.


    He was speaking as The Magician.


    As the one who had once stood beside The Fool and The Star.


    As the one who had lost them.


    And now, in this lifetime, he had found them again.


    Arden sighed, stepping forward and clapping Dominic on the shoulder with a rare, knowing look. "So, you remembered everything now." His voice was calm, steady—grounding in a way Dominic hadn''t realized he needed. "Welcome back, Magician."


    Dominic let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. A bitter chuckle escaped him. "Not everything… but enough."


    Arcane Magnus rose from his kneeling position, his ethereal form steady and unwavering. “It is an honor, to stand before you once again, Master.”


    Around them, the scholars, mages, and seekers of the arcane—each one a devoted student of magic—remained on their knees, their foreheads nearly touching the floor. It wasn’t just reverence. It was absolute faith. They had studied the stories, deciphered the symbols he had left behind, built entire academies upon the foundations of his teachings, never knowing that the very being they worshiped would one day return.


    Dominic swallowed hard. "Please… you don’t have to kneel."


    Zellan smiled, lifting his head slightly. "And yet, we do. For without the Magician, we would not exist as we do today. Laoyon’s magic, its laws, its structure—everything we have built, we owe to you." His eyes glowed with wisdom. "But I understand. If it is your wish, we shall stand."


    With a wave of his hand, the kneeling scholars rose, heads bowed in silent respect. The murmurs of excitement spread quickly through the Arcane Bazaar, a place that had seen all manner of powerful individuals but never something as profound as this. Word would spread. The Magician had returned.


    Dominic exhaled. "Well… that’s a lot to take in."


    Leigh smirked, wiping her tears. "Well, now you know how it feels to walk into a place and have everyone treat you like royalty."


    Arden stretched lazily. "Yeah, happens to me all the time."


    Leigh shot him a flat look. "No, it does not."


    "Oh, come on. Let me have this," Arden muttered.


    Selva, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, let out a shaky laugh. "Never thought I’d witness something like this. Well, I admit, didn’t see this coming. You guys are amazing."


    Master Zellan chuckled, the tension slowly fading from the air. “Now then, my lord, I imagine you did not come here simply to stir the past. You are in need of magic supplies, are you not?”


    Dominic nodded, forcing himself back to the present. "Yeah. That, and I have something to auction."


    Zellan’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. "Ah. Then please, let us discuss your needs. You will find no better place in all of Laoyon for magic goods than the Arcane Bazaar."