"That's a fine sword" you say to the merchant "how much do you ask for that beauty"

"Fiften thousand gold pieces" the old man says.

"Ten thousand"

The old man gives a chuckle saying "I don't haggle, boy"

"Maybe you can haggle with this" you say, producing a visably enchanted dagger, dark magic swimming along the blade, and ruby slowly bleeding imbued on the guard.

You point the blade at the old man. A burst of energy ricochets of the shop keep's face, flooding the room. The darkness clears. You see the old man looking as though he were lightly stifled by an autumn breeze. How? You had used the blades magic to cripple even the most fearsome of warlocks, and outright kill any foe less capable, in a singke shot. And yet, this geriatric merchant made it look like a mear childrens toy.

"Press [Alt] + [F4] to access your Inventory"

>tuesday: get an innocent man arrested

>wednesday: hardcore rock collecting(dayoff)

>thursday: perform a one man hostile takeover of the world's largest criminal syndicate

>friday: get murdered by my subordinate