Chapter 43

The warmth of the reunion was still fresh as Nick watched his father share stories of the battle with Elena and Devon. Eugene leaned against the sturdy oak table in the dining room, having set aside his armor. After a quick wash, he was dressed in a simple shirt and trousers. Yet even without the imposing gear, he radiated strength.He, too, had gained some benefits from the battle.

Elena sat across from him, much more composed now after learning everything she had missed. She hadn't enjoyed hearing that Eugene had tried to fight the wyvern alone, but she hadn't shouted. Though she didn't seem to share the same need to save Floria, she believed in her husband.

Devon lounged on the couch, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve while listening intently. He had asked a few questions about Arthur's duel but felt morose about being forced to stay. For a teenager on the verge of leaving home, that was as tough an ego check as anything.

Nick relished the moment, taking it all in. He didn't participate much, partly because he didn't want to reveal anything he shouldn’t and partly because the morning felt like the calm after a storm—precious and fleeting. Even as Eugene described how Arthur had used a technique called the , which allowed a powerful enough warrior to become one with their element and briefly exceed their limits, Nick's thoughts drifted to other matters—the spoils of battle, the impending discussion with Ogden, and the opportunity that awaited him if he acted quickly.

After an hour, once the stories were shared and the teacups emptied, Nick decided it was time to act. He stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. "I think I'll head into town," he announced, keeping his tone casual. "There's a lot to clean up, and I'd rather not sit here while everyone else is working."

Eugene gave him an approving nod. "Good lad. We'll be heading to the wall ourselves shortly. There's plenty of work to go around. Darien kicked me out, but I'll need to take over soon if I don't want him to collapse."

Elena's gaze found Nick’s. "Stay out of trouble," she said with a hint of warning. She knew him too well.

"Of course," Nick replied, managing to keep the grin off his face. He turned to Devon. "You coming?"

Devon shrugged, rising from the couch. "Why not?"

Together, the brothers left the house. The faint scent of smoke still lingered, carried by a gentle breeze from the battlefield. As they walked, the silence between them felt comfortable, each lost in thought.

Once the house was far enough, Devon slowed. "You go ahead," he said, jerking his thumb toward the town. "I've got something to take care of."

Nick raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Fair enough. Don't get into trouble."

Devon smirked faintly. "I could say the same to you."

They nodded at each other in silent agreement not to intrude on one another's business. Then, Devon veered off the path, disappearing into the streets, while Nick continued along the route that circled the town.

The north-eastern outskirts of Floria were already buzzing with activity when Nick arrived. Ogden's shop served as the center of a flurry of movement, and its courtyard had been repurposed as a staging area. A dozen men and women, some still in armor and others in simple work attire, unloaded monsters from carts.

Nick slowed down, taking in the scene. The air was filled with the metallic tang of blood. The bodies ranged from regular-sized wolves with silvery fangs to massive forest trolls that had clearly been among the more dangerous beasts. Nick had seen one of those hurl a stone hard enough to vaporize a man's head.

Ogden stood in the middle of it all, directing the workers with brisk efficiency. The old alchemist's keen eyes missed nothing, and his gruff voice easily carried over the chaos.

"Careful with that one!" he barked at a man struggling with a twisted, frog-like creature. "I don't want corrosive poison leaking all over my yard if you damage one of the sacs. And you—yes, you—put that over there. I don't care if it stinks; we need to butcher it now before the liver goes bad!"

Nick approached cautiously, waiting until Ogden's gaze flicked toward him before raising a hand in greeting.

"Kid," Ogden said. His tone was neutral, but his eyes betrayed faint amusement. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Nick smiled. "Figured I'd see if I could help. Plenty of work to go around, right?"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Ogden snorted. "Plenty, indeed. Though I suspect you're more interested in what you can get out of it."

Nick didn't bother denying it. "Maybe a little. But I can be useful. I know how to butcher, and my touch is as light as a feather. You won't see damaged goods if I'm handling them."

Ogden studied him for a moment before nodding. "Fine. Grab an apron and get to work. If you're any good, we'll talk about compensation later. Good work has to be rewarded, after all."

Nick understood the subtext and didn't need to be told twice. Ogden would make sure he was paid for his efforts in battle, but he required a pretext to do so when no one else knew he had been there. Nick was eager to maintain that secrecy so he wouldn't complain about handling the toughest jobs.

He grabbed an apron from a hook near the shop's door and joined the nearest workers, who were unloading a particularly large owlbear.

The morning flew by in a blur of work. Nick worked quickly, cutting away valuable parts and sorting them into labeled crates under Ogden's watchful eye. Despite the gruesome nature of the task, he found a certain satisfaction in it. Part of him remained amazed that such powerful magical ingredients were just roaming the nearby forest, and each time he removed a valuable organ or core, he found himself thinking of all the ways he could use them.

Potions were not his forte, but with so much magical blood on hand, it seemed like a waste not to prepare a Shakti Shake—an Indian brew that provided the drinker with a lasting boost in physical and mental performance. The name wasn't the original; Nick had learned of it from a poorly translated manuscript that referenced a genuine grimoire, but he had the recipe verified by a true potion master back on Earth.

He was sure that if he shared a recipe with Ogden, he'd receive a discount… for the first batch.

By midday, Nick's arms ached, and his lower body was covered in blood, but he felt strangely accomplished. He imagined it was similar to the feeling of counting money for hours on end—exhausting, to be sure, but also gratifying.

Ogden called for a brief break, and Nick took the opportunity to wash up at a nearby trough. came to his rescue once again, and before long, he disposed of a sphere of red liquid.

As he dried his hands, Ogden came over. "You've done well," the old alchemist said gruffly. "Better than any kid not from a family in the trade."

Nick shrugged. "I've had practice."

Ogden gave him a long look, then nodded. "Follow me."

Nick complied. Whatever the old man had to say was sure to be interesting. He appreciated their silent understanding, but he knew they needed to address some issues. He also wanted to know exactly how Ogden could see him, but he suspected there would be a steep price for that information.

Ogden barely spared him a glance, gesturing toward the far corner of the room where a large Mudstrider carcass lay sprawled on a stained butcher's table.

The creature was an imposing blend of bear and rhino, covered in layers of dry mud that served as its skin. Towering even in death, it had tusks jutting from its snout and thick, clawed paws designed for destruction. Hunched over the table, Rhea was hacking through one of its dense forelegs with a handsaw.

She was hard to miss. Her vibrant auburn hair was tied back in a messy braid, but a few rebellious strands framed her face, streaked with dirt and sweat. Despite the muck covering her gloves and apron, she worked doggedly, and her practiced movements made the labor seem almost graceful.

"Help her with that, and then we'll talk," Ogden said before turning around and leaving Nick to his fate.

He hesitated at the threshold, suddenly aware of their awkward history. The last time they had spoken was in the aftermath of the debacle in the Green Ocean. He had been overwhelmed by everything that followed and never came by to clear the air. She looked up as he approached, her hazel eyes locking onto him for a moment.

Nick braced himself, half-expecting a cutting remark, but Rhea only quirked an eyebrow. Without a word, she pulled off her gloves and handed him the saw.

"Good timing," she said. "Here, finish this. My arms need a break."

Nick blinked, caught off guard by her casual acceptance. He took the saw from her, feeling the handle slick with grime, and exhaled. "Sure, why not? This shouldn't be any harder than those outside."

Rhea smirked faintly and stepped back, futilely wiping her hands on a rag. "You'll see."

Nick muttered something under his breath but got to work, sawing through the thick bone. The Mudstrider's body was even more unpleasant up close; the mud encrusting its hide released a faintly sour smell, and each stroke of the saw sent flecks of filth flying.

For a while, they worked in silence. Rhea gathered tools and organized parts while Nick toiled through the grim dissection. The only sounds were the rhythmic rasp of the saw, the occasional creak of the table, and the muffled noise from the courtyard outside.

Finally, with one final tug, the foreleg came free. Nick stepped back and wiped his brow. "Anything else, or are we finished?"

"Not yet," she said. “We still have the upper body to do.” And if her grin was slightly sinister, Nick kept his thoughts to himself. He knew how to choose his battles.

Working together, they methodically stripped the creature of valuable components: sinew for bowstrings, tusks for crafting, and slabs of muscle that still glimmered with latent mana. When they finally cracked through the ribs, Nick paused, staring at what was inside.

A crystal the size of an apple was nestled amid the viscera. Its surface was smooth and faintly translucent, shimmering with inner light. Mana pulsed within it.

Nick carefully cut the core free, holding it like a precious gem. "This is a tier above the others," he murmured.

Rhea frowned, leaning in closer. "This is the twelfth one I've found," she said uneasily. "Mudstriders are strong, sure, but they don't produce cores until their later years, if they reach that point. And this one is the closest to the required level I've seen so far."

Nick nodded absentmindedly, turning the crystal over in his hands. He had suspected as much, but her confirmation only strengthened the implications.

Rhea watched him as if she had been vindicated. "You know something," she said. "What is it?"

Nick hesitated, his first instinct telling him to remain silent and keep the knowledge to himself until he could process it further. However, as he glanced at Rhea—taking note of her furrowed brow and the way she crossed her arms defensively—he reconsidered.

Ogden would eventually learn about the dungeon. The large number of cores extracted from last night's monsters would clearly indicate that something was wrong. And although Nick might be cautious of the old alchemist, he had proven himself to be an ally.

"Go get Ogden," Nick finally said.

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because we need to talk," Nick replied, holding up the crystal. "And I'd rather not waste time explaining this twice."

For a moment, Rhea looked like she might argue. Then she sighed and tossed the rag onto the table. "Fine," she said. "Stay here. Don't leave."

Nick chuckled, setting the core carefully onto the table. "Wasn't planning on it."

As she vanished into the back of the shop, Nick leaned against the edge of the workbench. He didn't like the idea of sharing this knowledge, but after seeing what a single wyvern was capable of, he had to reassess his plans. And as much as it annoyed him to admit it, Ogden might be the best person to figure out what came next.

Nick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well," he muttered, "this should be interesting."