As the multiversal tournament of power draws to a close, all mortal life in Universe 6 is obliterated. Unexpectedly, Hit, its legendary millennium assassin, is pardoned and given a second chance at life. His soul is whisked away, bypassing the fabri...
A shop door opened to let in a hesitant teen. He looked about the cramped shop. 'Dusty and full of junk. Fits the usual criteria.'
Noone appeared to greet him as he traipsed about. Most items he could see were behind glass: wooden sticks with gems at their apex, glittering bands inlayed with gemstones, books open to display intricate diagrams. 'I don't recognise much of this equipment. Solely the crystal balls and focuses.'
The books seemed interesting to Hit; perhaps they described the mechanistic basis of magic in this world. Other items, such as magic amulets and staves were overlooked. If he was to use magic, it would be of his own creation. Getting a closer look, he saw a myriad of graphs and mathematical formulas. An exquisite magic circle was drawn on the other page. 'Hm. This is slightly similar to the magic of my universe; the magic circle is at least. However, these formulas are far easier for me to grasp.'
The magic of universes 6 and 7 was often limited to specific races and operated analogous to ki: via sensing one's own power, using a focus of some kind. Other races were forced to dedicate hundreds of years to the craft or undergo body modification. Unfortunately, Hit's race was never very gifted with the ability, it was simply physiologically incompatible.
It was a shame. Hit was incredibly learned, able to make connections and come to conclusions many never would. He would always make sure to research the techniques and abilities of his targets, both out of interest and to not be caught off guard. Although, it was always fun when someone managed to surprise him.
"Find something you like, boy?" A raspy voice sounded from behind.
Hit turned around; he hadn't sensed them.
A hunched elderly woman now sat behind the counter, looking at him with a nearly toothless grin on display. She wore black robes, a pointy hat on her head. Her nose was elongated, a prominent boil on its side. She was very much a cliche witch, a cauldron was even bubbling away next to her.
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'Oh yeah... I forgot these people get their kicks from appearing out of nowhere.' Hit spoke calmly. "No, not at these prices. Unless I sell most of my organs, you won't be making any sales today."
