Chapter 133 (1/2)

Claptrap had been able to sell his ornate helmet for a decent profit, and that would sustain him for a while longer, but otherwise.. It had been a very disappointing market. Although plenty of customers had walked past, they simply didn’t even notice that he was a separate stand than the two lavish set ups on either side of him.

Honestly, immediately after he had sold the helmet, Claptrap experienced intense regret, for he realized just how much of a draw that ornate helmet had been. Without its high quality craftsmanship and materials to draw the eye, Claptrap’s small stand was just a piece of wood in the eyes of the powerful spear users who would come to this high market.

Although it was frustrating, no one had even noticed the engraved bracers that he had received from the Ghosthound. They simply were too shabby looking. At this rate-

Just then, Claptrap looked up, only to frown as he saw a large group walking down the aisle towards the location where his booth was located. Located at the front was a grinning man, who was clearly being bootlicked by the oily Izzat, who was rubbing his hands together in a disgusting way, practically drooling at the thought of obtaining such fat sheep.

And fat sheep they were, because in the middle of their group, a towering ogre of a woman stood, with a Tassle held aloft, a soft, soft blue, barely more than white. It was the Crashing Wave Style, who were the largest Style in Qtal, and the surrounding area.

“Well, it’s hard to say, we do business with a lot of merchants,” The grinning man was saying, rubbing his beard. “We don’t really have exclusive contracts. But of course, we are amenable to competitive pricing…”

“Don’t you worry about that. Ask anyone, Uncle Izzie gives you all you are entitled to, and more, for a fair price,” Izzat said, his eyes crinkling so far he looked like some sort of chubby night terror.

Seeing him like that… walking with people from such a big Style… it was too much, and Claptrap felt something snap inside of him. Almost before he had realized what had happened, he had slammed his fist down on his small booth, cursing his luck, cursing himself for running away from Ciel without saying anything, even cursing Ciel in a small part of his heart, for driving him away from his happy life to this…

To be overtaken by this bootlicker…

The grinning man turned at the noise, tilting his head to the side. Most of the surrounding merchants were looking at Claptrap too, slightly shocked. It wasn’t that loud noises were uncommon in the area, just that…

...had there been a small stand there this whole time…?

“Ah, Claptrap! Oh, Sir, this is a minor merchant with which I have some small dealings… perhaps we should check his… stock…?” Izzat’s eyes had already scanned what was on the table in front of Claptrap, and his mouth had twitched slightly after he had examined it all. Although Claptrap was sure he was a better judge of quality, Izzat was still a wiley old merchant. He clearly saw the low quality nature of the bracers on the table. And he wasn’t going to miss this chance to humiliate Claptrap. “He occasionally has… unusual finds. Anything worth this honored sir’s time, Claptrap?”

The question was obviously a trap, a part of Claptrap noticed, but humiliation and frustration and rage were all mixed inside of them, and they insisted he refuse to back down. So Claptrap raised his head proudly and said. “Of course. Would honored sir please examine these bracers?”

Izzat’s face was twisted between shock, caution, and excitement, as he struggled to understand why Claptrap wouldn’t back off, but the grinning man came forward, his amused expression still in place. The man seemed to know that some sort of posturing was going on behind the scenes, but it was clear that he didn’t really mind, as long as it was amusing. And approaching these poorly stitched bracers, he had no doubt that it would be.

The man picked up the first bracer.

****

Randidly descended, picking up speed, and Dian only looked up at the last second, her eyes widening with realization. Which was good, because Randidly couldn’t do much fine spear work yet, even if his body was slowly struggling to throw off the poison. But Randidly couldn’t care less what he couldn’t do, because he was sure right now that there was one thing that he could do.

And that was to end this strange, poison woman.

He landed with a crash, Dian just scrambling backwards. Unfortunately the shockwave knocked her even farther away, disorientating her, but only injuring her slightly. Randidly pulled on his rings, gathering up the rest of his stamina and mana.

Several bursts of Spearing Roots ripped upwards, and Dian didn’t notice until one had already pierced her thigh, wriggling upward in a strange, root-y victory dance. Her eyes widened, and she showed a surprisingly decisive personality as she twisted, ripping the hole in her leg even more widely, but she was able to use her spear whip to sever the roots in the surrounding area.

Another wave of Spearing Roots was on its way, but she was perhaps just as skilled as Randidly at fleeing. She flicked her whip out, and following the elongated weapon, Randidly was surprised to find it wrapped around the leg of a surprised Tartet, who appeared to have just regained his feet, mostly recovered.

Yanking on the whip, Dian’s body blurred sideways, out of the oncoming roots, shooting sideways over towards Tartet, who fell to the ground with a yelp, unable to withstand the sudden force. Eyes narrowing, Randidly raised his hand, his Eyes of the Spear Phantom focusing to a pinpoint.

“Incendiary Bolt.”

It shot forward, aimed directly into Dian’s path, and she didn’t see it until the last second. It struck the hand that held her weapon, ripping a hole in her palm and knocking the weapon out of her hand. She tried to use what remained of her hand to steady her fall, but the hand gave out, and her face smashed into the ground, her nose breaking with an audible crack.