The Comrcial Planet — Zaron
Bzzzt—
"Hm?" Robin stepped out of the shimring spatial portal, his entire body tense and senses heightened. He was fully prepared for anything. This planet was a mystery to him, a complete unknown, except for one detail—Rinara had recomnded it. And if Rinara vouched for sothing, then it was bound to be unusual, if not outright dangerous.
Robin's initial expectation was that he would be imdiately confronted by guards demanding identification and purpose of visit. He had prepared several responses for such an encounter, so diplomatic, others… not so much. He had even steeled himself ntally for the possibility of a fight or an ergency retreat. But what he saw next made all his assumptions collapse in a single mont.
"Co, co! I've got the finest lumber you'll find in the galaxy!"
"Thief! Stop that thief! Soone catch him!"
"You, over there! Yes, you! I've got a beautiful wife for you, fresh and strong!"
Robin blinked in disbelief. Before him stretched a sprawling market, a chaotic carnival of colors, noise, and life. The gate he had exited was perched atop a raised stone platform, standing several ters above ground level. Wide steps descended from the platform, and from the final step extended a broad street that stretched endlessly toward the horizon, teeming with countless stalls, vendors, and beings of every imaginable shape and form.
"Hey, are you planning to stand there all day, or will you let others pass? The portal's not just for you, you know."
The portal operator, a strange creature with octopus-like tentacles dangling from his face and a fishy stench that could knock out a small beast, placed a hand on Robin's shoulder.
"..?"
Robin's expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed. He turned his head slowly, glaring at the source of the offending touch. With cold precision, he removed the operator's hand. "I'll be on my way," he said flatly, and began to descend the stairs without another word.
Bzzzt—
The portal shimred behind him once more as another traveler erged. This one, unlike Robin, sprinted forward as soon as his feet touched stone—rushing past Robin with desperate energy, as if the entire market were about to vanish.
Robin, however, remained composed. His posture relaxed, hands behind his back, he scanned his surroundings carefully, his sharp gaze absorbing every detail. He needed to understand this place. Fast.
To his side, he noticed other spatial portals—dozens, maybe hundreds, each installed on similar stone platforms. From every one of them, a market street flowed downward into yet another crowded bazaar. All of these main arteries were interconnected by a vast network of side streets, alleys, and paths, creating a comrcial structure of staggering scale. It wasn't just a marketplace. It was an entire planet-wide economy, a city of trade without end.
Bzzzt
Again, the gate behind him buzzed, and another figure ca crashing through—yet another who darted forward without hesitation, joining the stampede into the market.
But this ti, Robin acted. Whoosh!
With lightning speed, his hand shot out and gripped the newcor's wrist, halting him mid-step.
"Excuse , friend," Robin said, his voice calm but firm, "this planet—what empire does it belong to?"
The young man, who looked to be part rat or at least bore resemblance to that volatile species, yanked his arm free and barked back in irritation:
"Empire? Are you mad?! This is a free Comrcial Planet! No rulers, no flags—just comrce!"
And with a whoosh, he vanished into the crowd, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow lost to the masses.
Robin stood for a mont, thoughtful.
"A free Comrcial Planet? How… delightful."
A faint smile touched his lips. Then, without rushing, he continued his descent until he passed the final stair and set foot upon the market floor.
To call it crowded would be an insult. The place was bursting at the seams with life. Creatures of every species—so tall and elegant, others squat and hulking—pushed shoulder to shoulder, bartered, argued, laughed, and shouted. The sheer density made movent a challenge. It was like swimming through a living river of bodies.
And yet, one thing stood out.
No one was flying.
Not a single being levitated, hovered, or soared overhead. Not one. Everyone—no matter how powerful or physically capable—remained earthbound.
Robin knew why.
According to the nurous classified reports he had read from Raiden, one rule in the Middle Belt was absolute: Flight for anyone below the World Cataclysm Realm was impossible.
It wasn't as though the planetary owners had ever convened and agreed upon such a restriction. No treaties were signed, no rules enforced from above. Rather, the explanation was far more intrinsic—woven into the very fabric of this place. The laws of reality here... were simply different.
The sa principles that allowed a re Level-21 Saint to soar through the skies in the Young Belt without resistance were rendered almost useless on this planet. At least, that was the case for conventional flight—the kind where cultivators enveloped themselves in an aura of energy, allowing them to ride the atmospheric currents as if they had beco one with energy itself. Here, such techniques would be t with utter failure.
"Hmm?" Robin's gaze slowly lifted upward, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Far above, integrated into the towering architecture, was what appeared to be a specialized aerial dock—a skyward platform made for arrivals and departures that didn't touch the ground. Upon it hovered several sleek vessels, uniform in their minimalist design. They were compact, clearly engineered for short-range transport within the confines of the planet's atmosphere. Each could seat no more than two or three passengers, at most. More intriguingly, they all bore the sa emblem—a swirling spiral with twin wings extending outward.
"Oh? Interesting…" Robin murmured to himself, narrowing his eyes in thought. "They look like comrcial crafts... perhaps rentals? But those markings—they're not space runes. More like local transport seals. Hmm. Must be ant for traveling across the planet itself, not into orbit."
Beyond the modest shuttles, Robin caught sight of sothing far more eye-catching: a handful of grander, more luxurious ships—larger in size, gleaming with decorative trim, and clearly customized for VIP clientele. These floated elegantly at a separate, more secluded dock that shimred with magical wards and dinsional anchors. A detail that didn't escape his notice: each of these vessels was guarded, flanked by a squad of armored figures standing in disciplined formation.
Robin raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusent playing at the corner of his mouth. "Hmm. What do we have here?" he wondered aloud. "Ships for nobles? Or maybe high-end rchants?"
But before he could study the situation further, the BZZZT of the spatial portal roared behind him once more, activating with a familiar surge of energy. From within the shimring portal stepped another traveler—but unlike the others before him, this one did not rush down the stairs into the bustling chaos below. No, he moved with purpose and confidence, turning imdiately to his right and heading straight for the private docks.
Robin watched as the luxury ship's guards straightened to attention and, upon the traveler's approach, bowed deeply and deferentially. With no hesitation, they escorted him aboard. Within monts, the vessel detached from the platform and began to glide smoothly above the massive market, disappearing into the skyline like a phantom, silent and swift.
"Private airships for the rich and powerful, I suppose…" Robin mused, nodding to himself. "Can't bla them, really. The market below looks more like a battlefield than a bazaar. Hm. Should I rent one too?" He scratched the back of his head, thinking for a mont, then smiled faintly.
"…Nah. Maybe another day."
"Step right up, ladies and gentlen! I've got ancient treasures from forgotten worlds! Make one purchase and you'll be swimming in wealth by morning! One gem—just one—could change your destiny forever!"
"Ha! Try changing your own fate first, you crusty old scamr!"
"I have in my possession the complete skeleton of a newborn dragon! Drink bone soup made from this, and you'll never suffer a single day of illness, and your manhood will never fail you again! Only ten cups of energy essence—who's brave enough to claim it?!"
Robin smiled subtly as he advanced into the chaos. The street wasn't rely busy—it was a living storm of motion and noise, a wild ecosystem of barter, bluff, and chance. It was what he would call organized madness.
To his left and right, there were proper establishnts—large, solid buildings with ornate entrances and clean, glowing signs. Inside, behind enchanted glass, rare artifacts and high-grade items were displayed in neat arrangents. The stores were protected by sophisticated formation arrays—likely deterrents against thieves, intruders, or magical interference.
And yet… they were almost completely empty.
The crowd wasn't gathering there.
Instead, all the commotion was centered around the streets outside these shops—where the real ga was being played.
Dozens upon dozens of street vendors had laid down carpets, unfolded tables, or simply knelt behind makeshift stalls. Their wares ranged from bizarre to unbelievable: shimring stones, coiled scrolls, bones, weapons, tallic spheres, and things Robin couldn't even begin to classify. They all yelled over each other, voices colliding in a wave of desperate persuasion.
It was obvious to Robin that most of what was being sold here was fake—cheap knockoffs, illusion-covered junk. Who would genuinely sell a legendary dragon's bones for ten cups of energy essence? Absurd. Ridiculous.
And yet…
Maybe one of them was telling the truth.
That was the magic—and the danger—of this place. One lucky purchase could turn a beggar into a baron. One sharp eye, one bold gamble, and everything could change. It was all a matter of timing, intuition, skill—and sheer, blinding luck.
"Hey! You there! Yeah, you— Human!" a raspy voice called out from sowhere to Robin's right. "Co over here! I've got the deal of a lifeti waiting just for you!"
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