He led her into a blackened room hidden behind the shop.
The door creaked open to reveal a long, narrow corridor cloaked in shadows.
"Hey, gramps," she called out with a teasing lilt in her voice.
"You're not planning to kill me in the dark and steal my card, right? Right?"
She saw his shoulders twitch slightly.
A vein nearly popped on his temple.
"Stop calling me grandpa," he growled.
"I'm not your grandpa."
She grinned wider.
Honestly, if you overlooked his temper, the old man wasn't that bad.
. After all, it was this same demon who'd helped her escape from the Demon Realm in her Previous life.
"Hmm~ but you're so old. What else should I call you? Doesn't grandpa suit you best, hmm?"
"If you say that one more time, I'll throw you out."
She stifled her giggle, raising both hands to cover her mouth. "Okay, okay! I won't say a word."
The tension eased slightly as they arrived at a massive, broken gate made of worn stone.
The old demon pulled out a small glowing stone and held it above the gate.
Instantly, the air shimmered—runes lit up, and the stone began to float.
The shattered arch reformed, mending itself until it pulsed with ethereal energy.
A teleportation gate.
She watched in awe, even though she'd seen this a few times before. It always surprised her.
That was a teleportation gate.
And it's a big deal.
Why?
Because there are only Eight officially known in the entire Demon Realm.
Each one is managed by one of the Seven Great Clans or the Demon Castle itself.
To think such a dirty little shop would have one…
But she wasn't shocked. That only showed how powerful this old man really was. His name alone could cause a ruckus across the world.
What brought her back to reality was the old man tsking under his breath.
'He's not still mad about the 'old' comment, is he?'
The old man stepped through the gate without hesitation. She followed right after.
The shift in space was nauseating. Her vision blurred, her stomach flipped, and she nearly vomited.
"Ugh… this never gets easier," she muttered, holding her head.
"Hmph. Weak," the old man grumbled without turning back.
As he took another step forward, glowing runes ignited across the white, seemingly empty space—and just like that, the entire room shimmered to life.
Dozens—maybe hundreds—of artifacts materialized around them.
Swords.
Relics.
Books.
Cursed weapons.
Sealed scrolls.
Each one was encased in reinforced glass, their names and details displayed on enchanted plaques.
The room looked more like a vault than a shop showroom now.
No matter how many times she saw it, it always left her breathless.
The old man folded his arms and grunted, "So? What is it that you want?"
She walked past the stalls slowly, her eyes shining with curiosity and excitement.
Each artifact display had:
Name
Rank
Description
Penalty
Some were glowing. Some looked harmless. Others radiated sheer menace.
Weapons of Kings.
Cursed items sealed by saints.
Trinkets from ancient wars.
And every single one...
could change the fate of a continent.