They had barely cleared the guild hall steps when Carcan slowed, her gaze drifting down a narrow side street they would normally have passed without a second glance.

  “Wait,” she said.

  Josh turned. “What is it?”

  She pointed with her chin. Half-hidden between a cooper’s shop and a shuttered bakery hung a modest sign, weathered wood painted with a set of balanced scales and a single, unblinking eye beneath them.

  “An appraiser,” Carcan said. “A proper one, by the look of it.”

  Brett followed her gaze, then frowned thoughtfully. “We do still have a few… questionable items.”

  Josh snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “And some chest loot we haven’t poked too hard yet,” Carcan added. “I’d rather know what we’re carrying before we take it back into the warren.”

  There was a brief pause, then nods all around.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Josh said. “Lead the way.”

  The shop was small but densely packed, every inch of wall space used. Shelves lined with velvet-backed displays held rings, pendants, wands, and curious trinkets whose purposes weren’t immediately obvious. A pair of short swords hung above the door, runes etched so faintly into the metal they were almost invisible. The air smelled faintly of incense and old parchment.

  Brett took one step inside and nearly stopped short.

  “Oh,” he breathed.

  Josh glanced at him. “What?”

  “Everything,” Brett murmured, eyes unfocused as his mana sense flared. “Almost everything in here is enchanted. My sense mana is going nuts.”

  Carcan gave a low hum of approval. “That’s a good sign.”

  From behind the counter rose a half-elf woman, setting aside a ledger with practiced ease. She had ash-blonde hair pulled back into a loose braid, sharp green eyes that missed very little, and faint sigil scars along her forearms, the mark of someone who worked with magic daily. Her clothes were practical rather than fashionable, layered leathers and cloth with pockets sewn where they were needed, not where they looked nice.

  She smiled, polite but measured.

  “Welcome,” she said. “You’re either adventurers or about to make very poor financial decisions.”

  Josh chuckled. “Bit of both, probably.”

  Her smile widened a fraction. “Fair enough. I’m Lysa. Appraisal, identification, and acquisition. What can I do for you?”

  “We were hoping you could identify a few items,” Carcan said, stepping forward. “From a few different dungeon runs.”

  Lysa’s eyes sharpened immediately. “Warren?”

  Josh nodded. “First floor. With an irregular, along with the new goblin dungeon.”

  “Well, that explains the look of you,” Lysa said dryly. “Go on, then. Let’s see them.”

  Josh laid the black daggers on the counter first. Their dark blades drank in the light, edges unnervingly sharp.

  Lysa didn’t touch them at first. She murmured a short phrase under her breath, eyes flickering silver for just a heartbeat.

  “Paired Shadowfangs,” she said. “Old design. When wielded together, they reinforce one another. Significant enhancement to agility and precision.” She glanced up. “A flat boost. About fifteen points to dexterity, assuming the system translation is clean.”

  Brett whistled softly.

  “They’re valuable,” Lysa continued. “And dangerous in the wrong hands. I’ll offer six gold for the pair, right now.”

  Josh blinked. “That’s… generous.”

  Lysa shrugged. “I know what I can move and what I can’t. Think on it if you like.”

  Josh nodded but didn’t answer yet.

  Next came the necklace from the irregular.

  The moment Lysa’s fingers brushed the chain, her expression shifted. She focused, lips pressing into a thin line as she drew more mana into the appraisal.

  “This one,” she said slowly, “offers a mixed enhancement. Constitution, wisdom, dexterity. Five, five, and seven respectively.”

  Bhel let out a low appreciative grunt. “That’s a strong piece.”

  “It is,” Lysa agreed.

  Then she stiffened.

  The warmth vanished from her expression, replaced by sharp, sudden anger. She yanked her hand back as if burned.

  “And it’s cursed.”

  The word hit the table like a dropped blade.

  Josh straightened. “Cursed how?”

  “Corruptive,” Lysa said flatly. “It binds to the wearer, rewriting flesh and mana alike.” Her jaw tightened. “Left unchecked, it will turn whoever wears it into a kobold.”

  Brett swore under his breath.

  “We got it from an irregular kobold,” Josh said carefully. “It was damned strong. Dropped it when it died.”

  Lysa closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. “That tracks.”

  She opened them again, gaze distant. “Someone found this necklace first. Wore it. Didn’t know what it was doing to them until it was too late. The dungeon took advantage of that corruption, absorbed them, reshaped them.” Her voice hardened. “That’s how these things happen.”

  Silence hung heavy for a moment.

  “I can take it off your hands,” Lysa said at last. “One gold.”

  Bhel frowned. “That seems low, given the bonuses.”

  “It is,” she said bluntly. “Because unmaking this safely will take time, resources, and care. I won’t resell it. I’ll break it down, cleanse it, make sure it never does this to anyone again.” She met Josh’s eyes. “That’s the price for doing it right.”

  Josh didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

  Lysa nodded once, satisfied, and carefully wrapped the necklace in a strip of warded cloth, setting it well away from the rest of her stock.

  “Good call,” she said quietly. “Both of you.”

  As she reached for her ledger, the shop seemed to exhale, the quiet hum of contained magic settling back into place.

  “Now,” Lysa added, glancing at the remaining items. “What else have you dragged out of the warren?”

  Josh hesitated, then reached back over his shoulder.

  The new shield came free with a dull metallic scrape as he unstrapped it, the surface catching the shop’s lamplight in a way that made the runes along its rim seem to breathe. He set it down on the counter with care, the weight of it solid enough to thud rather than clatter.

  Lysa went very still. “Well,” she said softly. “That’s a rare one.”

  She didn’t touch it at first, circling the counter instead, eyes tracing the shield’s shape and construction. It was broad and slightly curved, forged from layered metal rather than a single plate, the surface worked with subtle, overlapping scales that flowed toward the centre boss. The boss itself was thicker, reinforced, faintly faceted as if grown rather than hammered into place.

  “This,” Lysa said, “is a rare dungeon manifestation.”

  Josh blinked. “Manifestation?”

  “A true dungeon item,” she explained. “Not just enchanted gear, but something the dungeon itself creates to go with its monsters. I’ve seen them a handful of times over the years, always after a boss has been fought and defeated enough that the dungeon… learns.” She glanced up at him. “You didn’t get this on your first run, did you?”

  Josh nodded his head.

  “Wow.” She nodded to herself. “They don’t appear often, and when they do, they’re usually meant for someone very specific.”

  At last, she laid a hand against the shield and whispered a longer incantation. Mana rippled outward, briefly making the etched lines glow.

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  “Stats first,” she said. “It bolsters the bearer’s vitality significantly. Eight points. And a strength increase of five.”

  Bhel let out a low, impressed whistle.

  “But that’s not the interesting part,” Lysa continued. Her fingers traced the boss at the centre. “This shield carries a repulsion effect tied to impact.”

  Josh leaned in slightly. “Repulsion how?”

  “Not a simple knockback,” she said. “When an attack strikes the shield, a portion of the force is reflected outward through the boss. The harder the blow, the stronger the pushback. Weapons glance aside. Creatures are staggered. Overcommitted strikes can be thrown completely off balance.”

  Brett frowned thoughtfully. “So it punishes enemies for hitting him too hard.”

  “Exactly,” Lysa said. “It rewards standing your ground. The dungeon shaped it for someone who blocks, absorbs, and holds the line.” She looked at Josh again, something like approval in her eyes. “Sound familiar?”

  Josh couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth.

  Lysa straightened, hands leaving the shield. “I’ll be blunt. I would buy this in a heartbeat.” She paused. “Twenty-five gold.”

  The number landed hard.

  Josh inhaled slowly, eyes flicking to the shield, then to his friends.

  Carcan answered first. “No.”

  “Absolutely not,” Bhel rumbled.

  Brett shook his head, almost offended on Josh’s behalf. “That shield nearly got him killed already. We’re not selling it if it could keep him alive.”

  Josh let out a short laugh. “I was going to say I’d think about it, but… yeah. No.”

  Lysa studied them for a long moment, then smiled, genuine this time.

  “Good,” she said. “Because if you’d sold it, I would’ve assumed you didn’t understand what you were holding.”

  She slid the shield back across the counter. “Keep it. Items like that don’t come along often. And when they do, they’re rarely in the wrong hands.”

  Josh took it back, the familiar weight settling against his arm as he re-strapped it. It still felt right.

  As he secured it, Lysa added, almost casually, “If you ever change your mind, though, you know where to find me.”

  Josh chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Brett stepped forward next, his fingers wrapped a little too tightly around the wand he’d taken from the dungeon chest. The wood was dark, almost black, threaded with faint coppery veins that pulsed gently as if responding to his grip.

  He placed it on the counter. “Can you check this one too?”

  Lysa nodded and took it with practiced ease. The moment her fingers closed around it, the shop’s mana-lamps flickered almost imperceptibly.

  “Oh,” she murmured. “That’s nicely tuned.”

  She murmured a short identification spell, eyes half-lidded as she listened to whatever only she could hear. After a moment, she looked up at Brett.

  “Base bonuses first. Five points to wisdom, five to intelligence.”

  Brett’s eyebrows shot up. “Both?”

  “Yes. But again, that’s not the interesting part.” She tapped the wand lightly against the counter. “This core is designed to draw in ambient mana continuously. Not just absorb it, but filter it and convert it into your own mana signature.”

  Josh frowned. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it smooths your casting,” Lysa said. “Less strain when you pull power, fewer fluctuations. Spells stabilize faster. Missfires and mana surges become far less likely.”

  Brett slowly turned his head to look at Josh.

  Josh met his gaze, understanding dawning.

  “…Was that what happened in the boss room?” Brett asked quietly.

  Lysa didn’t answer directly, but her expression softened. “Without a focus like this, raw ambient mana in a dungeon can be… volatile. Especially near a boss core.”

  Brett swallowed, then carefully took the wand back when she offered it. He didn’t joke this time. He just nodded. “Right. I’m keeping this.”

  Perberos stepped forward next, producing the wrist guards he’d been wearing since they’d left the dungeon. They were slim, dark leather reinforced with narrow metal inlays, etched with tiny repeating sigil, proceeding to explain what he thought the guards did.

  Lysa examined them, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she finished the spell. “You were correct,” she said, looking back up at him. “These are precision aids. They subtly adjust muscle tension and micro-movements in the forearms and wrists. Your aim will feel… cleaner.”

  Perberos inclined his head slightly. “Thought so.”

  “Additionally,” Lysa added, “they grant a seven-point increase to dexterity.”

  That earned a rare, satisfied exhale from him.

  Bhel was next. He unbuckled the thick belt at his waist and laid it on the counter. It was wide, reinforced with overlapping plates and fitted with a heavy clasp shaped like a stylized knot.

  Lysa’s eyes lit up again. “Oh, this one’s solid.”

  She ran her spell, then nodded. “Five points to dexterity, seven to constitution. There’s also a minor movement enhancement woven into it. Nothing flashy, but you’ll notice it when you’re carrying weight or pushing yourself for long periods.”

  Bhel grinned broadly. “Knew it felt good.”

  After that, the party began producing a small pile of lesser items they’d collected over their earlier dives. Rings, necklaces, charms wrapped in cloth. Lysa worked through them efficiently, her assessments quick and blunt.

  “Low-grade mana storage. Not worth much.”

  “Cracked enchantment. Safe, but weak.”

  “Decorative more than functional.”

  Then she paused over one heavier necklace, the one they’d pulled from the wolf den weeks earlier. The metal was dull steel, the pendant shaped like a stylized fang.

  “This one,” she said, nodding, “is actually decent. Strength enhancement. A good one.”

  “How good?” Bhel asked.

  “Strong enough that I’m surprised you haven’t been wearing it already,” Lysa replied.

  Bhel snorted, took it from her, and fastened it around his neck without further hesitation. Almost immediately, he rolled his shoulders, testing the weight.

  “…Yeah,” he said approvingly. “That’ll do.”

  Lysa looked over the group, the counter now mostly clear. “You’ve done well,” she said. “Better than most first-time runners. Just remember, dungeon items are tools. Powerful ones. But don’t grow overly attached to them. Know when to upgrade.”

  Lysa gathered the remaining items she’d purchased whilst sliding the few the party had decided to keep back across the counter, then turned to a small lockbox beneath the register. It clicked open, metal chiming softly as she counted out coin with practiced fingers.

  “All right,” she said, stacking the gold neatly before them. “Sale value for the lesser trinkets, the scrap enchantments, and the materials you chose not to keep.” She paused, then added, “Minus my identification fee for the items I didn’t buy.”

  She pushed the stack forward.

  It was more than Josh had been expecting.

  Brett blinked. “That’s… actually really good.”

  “You brought in dungeon gear,” Lysa replied calmly. “Not gutter junk. And you didn’t try to offload everything the moment you got it. Bringing it here was actually pretty smart, given that everything is a premium here.”

  Josh scooped up the coins, weighing them in his palm. Solid. Reassuring. Enough that a small, dangerous thought immediately crept in.

  Before anyone could start talking about rooms, food, or future runs, Carcan spoke.

  “Before we leave,” she said, eyes already drifting back to the shelves. “We should reinvest.”

  Bhel paused mid-count. “Reinvest?”

  Carcan nodded, expression thoughtful but firm. “We’re about to go back into the Warren. Deeper. Harder fights.” She gestured around the shop. “For the cost of most of this coin, we could each pick up minor enchantments. Rings. Bands. Charms. Nothing flashy, but together—”

  She spread her hands slightly.

  “Ten? Fifteen? Maybe twenty additional stat points each?”

  The table went quiet.

  Brett frowned, doing the math in his head. “That’s… like—”

  “Up to four levels’ worth of raw stats,” Carcan finished. “Without waiting. Without risking our lives for it.”

  Josh looked down at the coin again, then back at the shelves lining the walls. The faint hum of magic was suddenly much louder now that he was listening for it.

  “That would make the fighting a lot easier,” Perberos said quietly.

  “And make us harder to kill,” Bhel added. “I like that.”

  Lysa watched them with open amusement. “Smart healer,” she said to Carcan. “Most parties hoard gold after their first run. Then die with full purses.”

  Josh exhaled slowly, then nodded. “All right. Let’s do it.”

  What followed was a mad trolley dash around the store, each party member scanning through the shelves looking for items that would be useful for themselves or the others, whilst not breaking the bank.

  A heavy ring for Josh, its surface etched with barely visible runes, reinforced both his constitution and strength. The moment he slid it on, the enchantment settled into him like added weight where it mattered, a quiet solidity beneath muscle and bone. Lysa also offered a narrow gorget chain, the metal warm against his collarbone, lending further resilience that made him feel harder to move, harder to break.

  For Bhel, it was a thick leather-and-steel bracer clasped around his forearm, boosting dexterity and strength just enough to make his already relentless momentum even harder to halt. Alongside it came a bronze ring set with a dull red stone, the enchantment sinking into his core and lending extra constitution.

  Brett chose two pieces that looked almost unassuming. A slim silver ring that heightened both wisdom and intelligence, the effect immediate, sharpening his thoughts and giving structure to ideas that usually came in wild bursts. The second was a small pendant set with a pale crystal, offering a straightforward boost to intelligence, bringing more raw mental capacity to draw on when spells demanded it.

  Perberos selected a pair of understated items: a dark metal signet ring that improved dexterity, making his movements feel fractionally cleaner, and a thin chain bracelet that bolstered intelligence and dexterity together, tightening his awareness until the world seemed just a little slower, his reactions just a little faster.

  Carcan finished last, choosing with care. A layered necklace of interlocking silver discs granted her increased wisdom, deepening her mana pool. A second piece, a delicate ring set with a clear gem, reinforced her constitution, something she was currently lacking in, giving her the endurance to keep standing when battles dragged on and healing became a test of will.

  Individually, the items were modest. No single piece made anyone feel invincible, but as the enchantments settled, the party could feel the difference immediately. They were more resilient across the board.

  And it had cost them almost everything they’d earned.

  Carcan didn’t look the least bit concerned. “Worth it,” she said firmly. “That’s several levels’ worth of stats without bleeding for them.”

  Josh flexed his hand again, feeling the weight of the ring, the steadiness it brought. He glanced at the others and saw the same realisation dawning across their faces. This would make a big difference.

  Individually, none of them were extraordinary. Together, they added up.

  Their coin dwindled quickly. The neat stack on the counter shrank, then thinned, then vanished almost entirely. By the time Lysa finished tallying everything, there was little left beyond enough for food and rooms for a couple of days.

  Brett stared at the empty space where the gold had been. “Well. That was terrifying.”

  “And absolutely worth it,” Carcan said without hesitation.

  Lysa slid the final receipt across the counter. “You’ve turned one successful run into survivability,” she said. “That’s how professionals last.”

  Josh’s gaze drifted, inevitably, back to the short sword behind the counter. The runes along its fuller caught the light again, almost teasing.

  Lysa noticed, of course. “I don’t think you’ll be able to afford them for a while,” she said lightly. “Very expensive.”

  Josh smiled, but there was no frustration in it this time. “Next run maybe.”

  “Hopefully!” Lysa replied.

  They gathered their things, new enchantments settling into place, power humming quietly beneath skin and steel. As they stepped back out into the street, the shop bell chimed softly behind them.

  They’d spent nearly everything they earned but they were stronger for it. Sharper. Harder to kill. And when they went back into the dungeon, it would feel that difference.