Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Chapter 83 Clayton quickly gathered his mana, using his purification trait to suppress the violent surge of strange energy inside him. He trembled where he stood, his face pale from the pain. Beads of sweat formed at his temples. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists, doing everything he could to keep his body from reacting in a way that might draw attention. After a long struggle, he finally forced the energy back down before it could erupt again. He let out a shaky breath. "Whew... That was close..." His gaze shifted back to the deer—clearly the source of the disturbance. Unlike Clayton, who could still resist the sickness within, the deer was defenseless against the malicious energy gripping its body. Its muscles spasmed as it let out pitiful, agonized cries—haunting and unnerving. The crowd, which had been watching with idle curiosity, now grew uneasy. Some backed away. Others left entirely, afraid of catching whatever illness afflicted the creature. The old man who owned the deer looked devastated. His eyes were bloodshot, knowing the episode had destroyed whatever value the deer had left. He regretted turning down the earlier offers. The thought tightened in his chest like a vice. In the end, all he could do was cradle the trembling deer in his arms and weep. The sight tugged at a few people’s hearts. But unlike earlier, no one approached. No one spoke. No one made an offer. They only stepped farther away, unwilling to get involved with something that might be contagious. Clayton watched with quiet sympathy. He knew that if it weren’t for luck—and the power he now possessed—he could have ended up just like that deer. A quiet urge to help stirred within him. He hesitated... then sent a small pulse of purification energy toward the deer. It was invisible to the naked eye. No one noticed. Gradually, the deer began to calm. Its convulsions ceased. The dark aura wrapped around it slowly faded. Then, as if sensing the source of its relief, the deer turned its head and looked up at Clayton with large, glistening eyes. The gaze pierced right through him—vulnerable and pure. He felt frozen beneath it, unable to walk away from such a beautiful, broken creature. Still, he forced himself to hold back. He didn’t want to act on impulse alone. Despite the crowd that lingered, the atmosphere remained heavy. Rumors began to circulate—at first just whispered speculation about the deer’s illness. But soon, it turned to open slander: "Maybe it’s cursed." "Probably some kind of bad omen." "It’s lost all magical value." The old man heard it all but stayed silent. The gossips never confronted him directly—just murmured cruelly under their breath. If he reacted, it would only make him look worse. A few people started tossing out offers—but they were so low, they might as well have been insults. "100 low-grade magic crystals, sir. That’s already generous." For context, a healthy crystal deer usually sold for 4,000 or more. This was barely 2.5% of that. The old man grew more agitated. And the more offers he turned down, the louder the muttering grew. "Guess that first guy was right—this old man’s trying to rob us." "He’s delusional if he thinks a dying deer’s worth that much." "It’s definitely cursed." "Nothing but bad luck." "Who would even buy that thing now?" The air thickened with judgment and suspicion. The old man wavered. He even began to think... maybe he should just sell it cheap and get it over with. But just as he was about to give in, a calm voice spoke: "So, what’s your real asking price for this deer?" The old man’s eyes lit up as if he’d just seen a savior. "This is a crystal deer, young man—very rare, especially valuable to magical farmers—" "Just give me a number." Clayton cut him off, voice sharp. "I’m not here for a fairytale." The old man blinked, his excitement fading. The boy’s tone reminded him of the bald man from earlier. With a bitter scowl, he replied, "Three thousand magic crystals. Why? You buying or not?" Clayton frowned, unimpressed. "What’s your deal, old man? Do you want to sell this thing or not?" "What, that a problem for you?" the old man snapped. He was tired—tired of bargaining, tired of holding back. Clayton’s patience wore thin. He had come here wanting to help—and this was the thanks he got? He turned and began to walk away. But before he got far, another ripple stirred within him—followed by the soft, sorrowful whimper of the deer. He stopped. Conflicted, Clayton hesitated. The old man had annoyed him, sure. But the idea of leaving that deer to die... didn’t sit right. With his purification ability, he might actually be able to save it. He kept walking. But the deer’s eyes followed him—glassy, pleading, full of unspoken pain. He stopped again. When he turned around... the deer was crying. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a determined look, Clayton marched back to the old man. "Tell me your real price. If it’s reasonable, I’ll pay it—right here and now." The old man looked stunned. He glanced at Clayton, then at the deer... And in that moment, he realized something: This boy might actually have a soft heart. He might really be trying to save the creature. Internally, the old man sneered. Naïve little fool... But now that the power had shifted back to him, he straightened and put on a smug, arrogant face. "I already told you. 3,000 crystals. So? You buying or what?" Clayton’s eyes narrowed in frustration. The surrounding crowd had gone quiet, waiting to see what he’d do. Without another word, Clayton turned and walked away again. I’ll wait, he thought. Someone else will buy it. I’ll offer them more afterward—or send someone to buy it for me. The old man scoffed. He won’t leave that deer to die, he thought smugly. But... As Clayton walked farther and farther away, the old man’s confidence cracked. Panic welled up. Regret struck him—again. He ran after Clayton and grabbed his arm. "Hey! Wait, young man! I was just joking earlier! Don’t take it to heart, haha, just a bit of fun..." Clayton felt a flicker of relief. At least now, he wouldn’t need to start scheming. But outwardly, he kept his expression cold—he wouldn’t let the old man play games again. "Fine. Give me a real number this time. No tricks. If you mess with me again, I will walk away for good," Clayton said firmly. The old man nodded quickly—like a chicken pecking at rice. "No tricks, I swear! This is the real price! I’ll sell it to you for... 1,000 low-grade magic crystals!" Clayton frowned. That was still a lot for him. But he didn’t want to argue. Any more pushback might ruin the deal. But Clayton didn’t think it was worth nearly that much. Doubt crept in. Maybe he should just stick to his original plan. As the two stood in silence, weighing their thoughts, a mocking voice suddenly cut through the air: "Hey, kid! Give it up. There’s no way you’ll save that deer. You’re just throwing your money away!" Both Clayton and the old man froze.