Skyborne Raider

“A phone for a sabre? Who the hell needs a dead phone here?”

“Just get in. You’ll see. But be warned, he’s quite large,” he says, gesturing with his arm for me to step in.

Pulling aside the curtain, I’m immediately struck by what I see. A massive, morbidly obese humanoid creature the size of a small bus looms before me, adorned in a white and gold tunic. Huge, fat legs with small feet and golden bracelets stand out.

I have no idea what this thing is. Human? Giant? Alien? Or some kind of god? It seems unable to move on its own, sitting there like a mountain on a pile of large, colorful pillows trimmed with gold.

Its skin is an ashen light gray. The creature slowly lowers its bald head, causing its chin to quadruple in size, and looks at me with empty, dark eyes.

I gulp in fear as its massive, surreal presence looms close to my face.

“Third foreigner,” the giant intones, its deep, echoing voice sending a gust of metallic-scented air into my face. To my surprise, the scent is not unpleasant.

A window, like the plates we’ve seen already, pops up in front of my face.

Path of steel

Path of steed

Path of shadow

Staring into the giant’s face, I raise a hand with a curled index finger and choose the first option that catches my eye, bringing a pleasant feeling. I love things that are steady and solid.

“Good,” the merchant’s deep voice rumbles.

I open my inventory and briefly compare the metal plates. Since I’m standing close to the merchant’s plate and mine always appears in the same spot, I watch how they intersect, just as I expected.

Quickly, I pull out my old cracked smartphone with my left hand and my coin satchel with my right.

“How do I pay? I don’t have any valuables besides these,” I ask humbly.

"You will pay with what truly matters to its owner."

Knowing from Mike that the merchant was interested in his phone—he successfully traded his latest Samsung for a simple sabre—I’m concerned.

For my super old, laggy, and cracked phone, I’d be lucky to get a random stick. The merchant raises a hand almost the size of my torso and gently picks up the phone between his thumb and index finger.

He sniffs it.

“Ahhh. This has been with you every day for almost eight years. It saved lives, helped you through many hard situations, and was your daily servant. You’ve formed a strong bond with it.” I’m baffled by his words and just stare as he continues to sniff the phone. “Precious.”

The contents of the bronze plate shift into two categories.

Weapons Armor

Without hesitation, I choose Weapons.

The plate’s content shifts again, revealing three miniature weapons.

A thick Sabre A brick Hammer A black Halberd

The sabre is shiny, long, and slightly curved, with a thick, wide blade, a leather-covered hilt, a bronze quillon, and a huge pommel. It has a Mediterranean feel, though I’m not sure I like it at first glance. It looks spectacular, but let’s see it in full size.

As I hover my hand over the icon, the sabre begins to materialize in my palm. I grip it tightly, expecting it to swing easily.

The sabre is unexpectedly heavy, bending my hand almost instantly, nearly breaking my wrist. I’m lucky to step back just in time as it almost stabs through my foot. What baffles me is the quality—it looks simply magnificent, polished, and detailed compared to Mike’s sabre.

I glance at the merchant awkwardly. He shows no reaction.

I leave the sabre on the ground and touch the halberd.

If the sabre was that heavy, I wouldn’t dare even touch the hammer.

The moment I touch it, the sabre on the ground starts to shrink and disappears, transported back into its original place.

The halberd, the third weapon in a row, is very long. As it materializes, it slides down my hand and thuds heavily onto the marble floor. I quickly check for cracks and sigh in relief when I find none.

I glance back at the merchant awkwardly. He ignores my clumsiness and occasionally sniffs the old smartphone.

The thin black metal pole, topped with a bronze ax and spike, gleams with a bronze hue from certain angles, but mostly appears black. I hold it clumsily, unsure if I’m holding the halberd or if the halberd is preventing me from falling down.

As the halberd is almost twice my height, I appreciate the range it would have in combat. It’s an excellent-looking weapon, and the thin, cold black handle fits my hand quite well, cooling my sweaty palms. The pole is well-crafted, with a matte texture for better grip, and the ax on top looks sharp and precisely forged.

I don’t dare to drop it and hold it correctly as a halberd; I know this won’t work out for me.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I assume the hammer would be an even worse option.

While leaning over the halberd, I extend my right index finger and point towards the hammer with a sigh.

Its leather-wrapped handle, with a small pommel at the end, starts to expand in front of me. I’m ready to let it go if things go wrong, even if it means breaking one of the marble stairs. My wrist is more valuable.

"Ahah!"

My hand grips a bit late, and the hammer head rests on top of my tightly closed fist.

I crouch as I almost drop it by instinct while it’s still expanding. But then, it stops.

It’s surprisingly smaller than I imagined. After the halberd, which is nearly twice my height, and the one-handed sabre that would be too large even for a strongman, I expected this thing to be at least a sledgehammer.

I’m not sure what the handle is made of, as the bottom part is covered with a bronze pommel, and the rest of the handle is tightly wrapped in light brown leather. The pommel seems to be the same material as the head. It’s shaped like a rectangular stone hammer used by masons—neither too big nor too small.

It’s indeed heavy, and I struggle to swing it more than a few times, yet I know this is my choice.

The craftsmanship is beautiful as far as I can tell, based on what I’ve seen of Mike’s sabre.

The hammer head is a golden mirror, almost blinding me as I swing it.

"Can’t wait to get this one dirty! Hahaa!"

The phrase escapes me in a moment of joy as I gaze at it with a grin. My expression quickly shifts to a poker face when I realize I got carried away. The merchant eagerly awaits my answer while holding my phone close to his thin gray lips.

“I’ll keep the hammer,” I say calmly, lowering my gaze in respect.

“Confirmed,” the humongous deity responds, opening its large mouth. I struggle to hold myself together as I notice two rows of small, yet spiky teeth.

“Jesus,” I whisper, rubbing my eyes.

As my prehistoric phone enters his mouth, one of the pointy teeth bites through the back. It starts to whistle, and thick smoke billows out. The merchant’s neck suddenly resembles a thick chimney, like those at power plants.

I hold the hammer facing the ground and watch with concern, wondering what will happen next.

The merchant closes his mouth and seems to savor the snack a bit too much, letting out a sound of pleasure as his eyes close.

I leave the temple in a hurry without a word.

"Daaaaaamn, Mark! What the hell is even that?!" Mike approaches theatrically, inspecting my hammer from every direction. He crouches and stares at it.

"What did you leave there? Your goddamn soul?" he continues.

“My phone. Just as you said,” I reply curtly.

From his expression, I can tell he feels tricked.

"Astrid gave up her new iPhone, I wasted my flagship Samsung. Which one did you give him?" he asks, a bit unsettled.

“Err, I gave him my, probably, eight-year-old phone. I lost count. I’ve had it since I started high school. We couldn’t afford anything better back home.” I explain.

“Well, it seems that he wants items with high sentimental value,” Astrid steps into the conversation. She holds a weathered wooden bow in her left hand, and a simple quiver made of pelt hangs over her shoulder. I can count her few arrows on my fingers.

*Bang*

*Thud*

My eyes widen in shock as she’s suddenly knocked to the ground.