The moment the two items appeared, every eye in the vicinity snapped towards them, accompanied by sharp intakes of breath.
Could they be seeing right?
What were these things? Fine-grade items? And two of them at once?
Every gaze fixed on Rhys's face, searching for what made this man different, how he could possibly possess two terrifying Fine-grade pieces of gear.
In the world of The Epoch of Endings, items of different grades emitted distinct colored glows.
Common was white, Fine was green, Rare was purple... and so on. Therefore, these onlookers didn't need to inspect the skills or attributes of the Bow of Withering or Root Bind to instantly recognize their quality.
Fine-grade!
In another game, items of this grade might be mere stepping stones – used briefly during a leveling phase and then discarded. But in The Epoch of Endings, they were objects of intense envy for everyone.
The reason was simple: the game's difficulty was insane!
It was brutally, fiendishly hard. Even seasoned gamers had to proceed with extreme caution, step by painstaking step. If monster numbers exceeded three, even the most skilled players could be overwhelmed and killed.
If top players struggled this much, common players faced sheer hardship. After getting familiar with the game, every single battle demanded utmost care. Even Slimes caused them significant grief.
In this environment, the combat power provided by a single Fine-grade piece of equipment was utterly terrifying!
"Holy hell, Fine-grade? And two at once? Is this guy cheating? How did he get them?"
"Big brother~ Could you gift this to me? If you do, I'll do... anything you want~"
"I'm a student, gift it to me."
Exclamations of shock and shameless pleas for freebies erupted from all directions.
Rhys snorted coldly. A student? Not even a beast would get it for free!
To shut down the nuisance, he picked up a pricing plaque. He set the price for both the Bow of Withering and Root Bind at eighty Chronocoin each.
This price wasn't actually high. The combined effect of these two items wasn't simply additive (1+1=2); for an early-game Archer, it was a set that could last a very long time.
Furthermore, neither item had a skill level requirement. Eighty Chronocoin apiece was not exaggerated in the slightest.
Yet, the moment this price tag appeared, it sent shockwaves through the bustling market.
"Holy hell, eighty Chronocoin each? That's insane! You'd have to buy both, so that's one-sixty! I couldn't afford that if you sold my kidney!"
"A Slime drops two Chronocoin. Damn it, I'd need to defeat eighty Slimes just to save up one hundred and sixty Chronocoin! Is there no justice? If I could defeat that many Slimes reliably, would I even need this gear?"
"He must be money-crazy! At that price, if he actually sells anything here, I'll eat this market's sign right now!"
The exorbitant price instantly deterred all bargain hunters. At this stage, anyone capable of producing one hundred and sixty Chronocoin was no ordinary player—they'd need immense wealth at the very least.
Strangely, once the onlookers realized they had zero chance of obtaining Rhys's items, a wave of mockery washed over them. They now eagerly anticipated seeing his wares go unsold, forcing him to slink away in defeat.
Human nature truly is a peculiar thing.
Rhys remained utterly unfazed. He was perfectly content with the lack of interruptions. After all, setting up this stall was merely a way to pass the time while waiting for Bloodmoon Pack. He could wait indefinitely.
"I'll take these."
Just as Rhys closed his eyes to rest, a bright, lively voice sounded beside his ear.
Rhys looked up. A spirited girl wearing Ranger gear, a feather tucked jauntily into her cap, stood before his stall. Her eyes sparkled like stars as she gazed at the two items.
"One hundred sixty total. Non-negotiable," Rhys stated, his tone still languid.
The girl waved her hand dismissively and promptly sent Rhys a trade request.
"She's gotta be a plant! Who at this stage can afford that? Killing eighty Slimes would put her level way past that 'Abysswalker' guy!"
"Could this be Abysswalker himself? If it is, dropping one-sixty Chronocoin might not be unreasonable."
"Pathetic! Abysswalker? Pfft. This is clearly a setup to pressure you into buying," sneered the same man who'd promised to eat the sign, his voice dripping with envy as he glared at Rhys. "Just watch—he'll lower the price soon, and you fools will think it's a bargain!"
"Idiot. Don't you recognize her? That's Lady Ava of House James!"
"House James? As in the James Syndicate? Ava's their Unique heir, right? She plays games?"
"Now I remember! House James has been buying up Chronocoin aggressively. One coin trades for tens of thousands! If it's House James... yeah, she could absolutely afford this."
The moment Ava's identity was revealed, the price of one hundred sixty Chronocoin suddenly seemed far less outrageous. Everything clicked into place.
Rhys listened to the murmurs swirling around him, his expression unmoved. So she's the James Syndicate heiress. So what? Does that feed me? Her family's money isn't coming my way.
Yet the name "Ava"... it rang a faint, distant bell.
Names that stuck in his memory usually belonged to top contenders on future leaderboards. That this young girl could reach such heights stirred a flicker of unexpected curiosity within him.
He lifted his gaze to study Ava more closely—only to find her wide, curious eyes already fixed intently on him, studying him right back.
Caught in the act of studying him, Ava displayed none of the shyness typical of a young girl. Instead, she asked with solemn seriousness, "Are you Abysswalker?"
Rhys gave a slight nod. In this lifetime, he had no enemies to fear; his identity being known held no danger. In fact, gaining renown could bring significant benefits.
"My name is Snowflake Drift," Ava declared, lifting a finger and tapping lightly in the air before her, presumably on an invisible interface. "Add me as a friend."
Rhys didn't refuse. More friends meant more connections. Besides, if he ever wanted to sell Chronocoin, House James represented an excellent channel – their reputation far outstripped the notorious Bloodmoon Pack.
While real-world currency would become largely irrelevant in the future, Rhys was currently just a penniless university student. Extracting abilities later would require massive food intake to replenish his body's energy.
Real-world money still had its uses.
"If you decide to sell Chronocoin, come to me," Ava's voice sounded directly beside Rhys's ear. After a brief pause, she continued, her tone earnest, "I'll give you a preferential rate. One to a hundred thousand. But... don't sell too much. Chronocoin... it's important. Very, very important."
Rhys watched Ava. She met his gaze steadily, yet her lips never moved; her bright, lively voice persisted solely within his auditory perception.
This wasn't ventriloquism. It was a built-in function of The Epoch of Endings – akin to the "sound transmission" of cultivation novels or mental communication in Western fantasy. Two players could engage in private, one-on-one conversation through the game's chat system.
"Thank you," Rhys responded, genuine appreciation coloring his tone. A sliver of goodwill towards Ava bloomed within him.
As a reincarnator, he was well aware of Chronocoin's critical importance. He wouldn't commit the foolish act of draining the pond to catch the fish. He might sell some, but only a minuscule amount – an amount utterly insignificant to his plans.
Yet Ava had chosen to warn him of Chronocoin's vital significance. That was offering him a favor. While such debts could be troublesome, Rhys mentally noted the obligation.
Speaking of which...
Rhys's gaze lingered on Ava's face, a contemplative gleam entering his eyes.
In his past life, he hadn't entered the game immediately. Still, he'd caught whispers of peculiar rumors. Both powerful aristocratic families like hers and established gaming Guild Charters had flocked to The Epoch of Endings from the very first moment. They'd invested colossal resources, fiercely competing for dominance, willing to bloody themselves for the top spot.
Gaming Guilds doing this made sense – it was their livelihood.
But for scions of noble houses like Ava to also choose to immerse themselves in this game...
That raised profound questions.