My Girlfriends Are Hardcore Yanderes - Chapter 134

Chapter 134: Blending
The city of Alarath looked like a typical medieval fantasy town but with a cleaner, more organized and discipline vibe.

The trashcans were sturdy, made of thick wooden barrels with iron bands around the edges. They were placed at regular intervals along the streets, each with a simple lid that could be lifted to dispose of waste.

There was also no unpleasant smell in the air. The streets remained fresh, a sign that the city had a well-maintained drainage system in place, effectively keeping the roads free from waste and preventing any lingering odors.

The area where the caravans passed was plain, with no particular design, but the sidewalks had a herringbone pattern, where the stones were arranged in a Z shape, with each stone placed at an angle.

This gave the pavement a woven look, making the streets feel more organized and a bit fancier compared to the rest of the city. He could tell from this that whoever was in charge of the city’s infrastructure knew exactly what they were doing.

Beastkin walked the streets, dressed in simple tunics. Most of the citizens had the distinctive ears and tails common to their kind.

However, a few appeared almost human, with the exception of their eyes and skin color. Their eyes had that unmistakable, animal-like quality that set them apart.

Asher’s appearance probably helped him blend in with them. He didn’t look like an ordinary human, either. His hood was also up, covering his face and making him less noticeable.

‘I need to get myself some money,’ he muttered to himself.

He did not needed to worry about paying for anything before. But now things were different. He would need to figure out how to get money, just like everyone else.

The guards had told him about a marketplace where almost anything could be bought or sold. He figured it was the best place to start, and he could sell some of his creations there.

Asher already had a plan. He would sell a magic item—simple enchanted scrolls that stored energy and magic formulas.

These items allowed anyone to cast a spell by simply activating the paper. It was a basic form of Conjuration Magic that he had learned early on.

He walked through the streets, looking for an alley where he could work in privacy. Eventually, he found a quiet corner near the marketplace. It was secluded enough not to attract attention but close enough that he could sell his work later.

Some people passed by the alley, but when they saw the emblem on his chest, they quickly moved aside.

The guards had advised him to display it, saying it would make things more convenient, as the locals would take him more seriously.

‘Now, it’s time to make some money.’

Reaching into his space bag, he pulled out a single sheet of old paper. Without wasting any time, he cut it into twenty smaller pieces. There was no need for large sheets; the magic he intended to create was simple, requiring only a basic formula.

First, the ink. He paused for a moment, considering the usual method. His blood was powerful, a direct conduit to his magic. But it would be a waste.

He decided to just use energy to embed the symbols instead. It would save time and still be effective.

The energy would burn the paper as it carved the formula, leaving a glowing, scorched outline that would hold the magic in place.

Second, the spell structure. Precision was everything.

A single misstep, a misaligned curve or angle, and the spell could turn to dust, or worse, backfire.

The symbols had to flow perfectly. He had done this enough to know exactly how each one should look, but even then, a moment’s distraction could ruin it all.

And third, the alignment of the element. The paper, the ink, the symbols—it all had to sync with the right magical current.

It wasn’t enough to just write; the energy needed to be channeled, focused. If he didn’t get it right, it wouldn’t matter how well the rest was done. The scroll would be useless.

‘Done,’ he nodded in satisfaction. After finishing one, the next few scrolls became easier. The process was now familiar, a simple repetition of the steps, and in just under five minutes, he was done.

He gathered the small pieces of enchanted paper and carefully tucked them away in his pocket.

Standing up, he made his way toward the marketplace. Once there, he approached one of the vendors.

“Where can I sell magic items?” he asked with casual tone.

The vendor, who had been glancing around impatiently, let out an exaggerated sigh as he wiped his hands on his apron.

“Another one,” he muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated with the lack of customers.

But then his gaze landed on the emblem on Asher’s chest. His expression shifted immediately .A quick, forced smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re a—ah, right,” the vendor said, nodding with sudden understanding. “Well, across the street, there’s the place you’re looking for. You can’t miss it. Three floors, plenty of buyers and sellers in there. They’ll take what you’ve got.”

He waved toward the building, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone.

From the outside, it was clear the place had a wide range of items displayed in the windows, tempting anyone who passed by.

Stepping inside, the air buzzed with activity. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm golden light across the crowded space.

Shelves, counters, and racks were packed with magical items. Glass jars filled with glowing potions and shimmering powders lined the walls, while wooden shelves sagged slightly under the weight of old books, rolled-up scrolls, and curious trinkets.

Crystals of every color reflected the light in every direction, and enchanted rings and amulets were carefully arranged on velvet trays, their magic practically vibrating in the air.

At the center of the store stood a large stone fountain. The water glowed faintly with a soft, otherworldly light, and its gentle sound filled the air between the quiet conversations happening around the room.

There were other customers present, but they didn’t look like sorcerers at all. Some appeared to be ordinary civilians, while others looked more like adventurers or mercenaries, browsing the shelves in search of potions for their journeys.

Beastkin workers, mostly dogkin, moved around the store, restocking shelves and helping customers.

All of them were women, their small and petite figures standing around 5’0″.

They wore practical clothing—soft earth-toned tunics with aprons to protect them from dust and spills. Some had long skirts, while others wore fitted trousers.

Their fur ranged from sandy beige to dark brown and charcoal gray. It was well-groomed, and their dog-like ears twitched whenever they heard a customer or the soft sound of something shifting in the store.

One worker, a small dogkin woman with light tan fur and sharp, curious eyes, adjusted a glowing crystal on one of the shelves. Her claws clicked lightly on the wood as she turned to greet Asher with a polite nod.

“Welcome, sir! Are you looking for something specific today? If you want to sell items, the appraiser is on the second floor,” she said.