It was a planet forgotten after its defeat.

The cold night wind made the two red lanterns at the door sway ceaselessly, casting their light on the tree branches, which also shook.

Creaking sound echoed.

It resembled the old mansion in a ghost story.

Hannah climbed the steps, tiptoeing to reach the door knocker above.

The knocker, shaped like a green oily beast’s face, was said to be something only first and second rank officials could use in that bygone era.

It was an antique.

However, in Bruley, antiques were less important than a mouthful of food.

The knocker was tapped lightly three times.

While Hannah waited for someone inside to open the door, Archer was vigilantly observing the surroundings.

It was very quiet, with only the sound of the wind.

"Where have all the people here gone?" Archer asked.

Hannah responded, "Today is the 5th, the people from the east went to the underground fighting arena."

"Underground fighting arena?"

"It’s a terrifying place," Hannah explained. "They inject living mutant beasts with a solution and watch them tear each other apart, then guess who will win."

The little girl’s voice was full of innocence, and her language was very succinct.

Without thinking deeply, it seemed like just a simple game.

However, Hannah didn’t mention that humans could also be part of the game, fighting against the mutant beasts.

In a short while, a crack opened in the shop’s large door.

The person opening the door was the shop owner.

At this hour, the only visitor he expected was Hannah.

Sure enough, he saw her as soon as he looked down.

The owner pulled the door open wider, allowing Hannah to come in.

Archer followed closely behind.

"Who is this?"

"He’s someone I picked up," Hannah explained, running to stand beside Archer. "He’s mine."

Archer was slightly taller than Hannah, dressed in black with patterns outlined in silver thread in the light, understated yet luxurious.

But his face was dust-covered, only his eyes were noticeably beautiful.

The owner was an old man with dark skin and wrinkles around his eyes, which gave him a somewhat cunning look when he smiled.

Hearing Hannah’s introduction, the owner just glanced over then chuckled, "Look at me, I thought you brought me new merchandise."

New merchandise?

Archer turned to look at Hannah.

Hannah shook her head. "Archer is not for sale."

She was very protective.

Archer remained silent.

Unflinchingly, he met the owner’s scrutinizing gaze with his dark pupils, his eyes wolfish.

The owner, having been in Bruley for many years, was not intimidated by a child, merely commenting, "He’s a good prospect."

What kind of prospect he did not specify.

But Hannah understood.

Only Archer did not.

But he always stood by Hannah’s side.

"Alright, come in. Since I’m open for business, I do honor certain ethics."

The most basic was not to harm his own guests.

Especially since Hannah always brought valuable items, he wouldn’t let money slip away.

The owner led them into the courtyard behind the shop.

The yard was fairly spacious, but it was cluttered and crowded with various items.

Mechanical wreckage, discarded weapons, or different parts.

It looked like a junkyard.

Indeed, it was.

In the east, places that traded goods for goods like this were plentiful, where food, daily necessities, or weapons could be exchanged.

And the items for trade could be anything—mutant beasts, scrapped weapons, or even people.

...

Hannah traded the bag of items she found in the north for a mirror she liked.