Chapter 45:

Nick stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the dissected remains of the wyvern sprawled across the table. The creature was monstrous and magnificent, even in death. He hesitantly brushed his fingers against the edge of a scale. It was smoother than he'd expected, cold to the touch, and hummed softly with a latent energy that made his skin tingle. Something within him yearned for it.He had come a long way since arriving in this world. In his previous life, such a creature had been the stuff of myth, something only seen in ancient books or portraits. The thought of possessing even a fraction of its power would have been a dream—and yet, here he was, standing before the remains of a Prestige creature with the chance to claim a piece of it.

"Strikes you, doesn't it?" Ogden's voice cut through his thoughts, seeing he wasn't ready to choose just yet.

Nick turned to find the alchemist watching him with an amused glint in his eye.

"Yeah," Nick admitted, quieter than usual. It felt wrong to raise his voice here. "You don't see something like this every day."

Ogden chuckled, leaning against the frame of the doorway. "No, you don't. Even for me, it's rare to have access to a beast of this caliber. If you'd like to take your time, lad, we can give you some space."

He made to leave and gestured for Rhea to follow, but Nick straightened and gestured for him to stay. "Wait."

Ogden paused, peering at him over his glasses.

"There's something I need your advice on," Nick said cautiously. He wasn't ready to reveal all his cards, but Ogden had proven to be a valuable ally. If anyone could help him make the most of this opportunity, it was the old alchemist.

Ogden hummed, curious. "Go on, then."

Nick hesitated, searching for the right words. "I've been working on something," he began slowly. "It's related to my air affinity. I was considering taking some of the scales, but if a part of the wyvern is better suited for enhancing that, I don't want to waste the opportunity."

Ogden's sharp gaze flickered, his mouth twitching in what might have been approval. “Something to enhance your connection to the element, then? You might be better off asking the g—ahem.” Again, he was interrupted by Rhea, who looked almost mutinous despite the reprimand she got earlier. This time, however, Ogden must have thought she wasn’t out of line because he didn’t punish her.

“Usually, it is only seen in families with a long history of handling an element. I wonder how a brat like you from a knightly house could manage that,” he finished. Nick would have liked to ask what that was about, but he doubted they would tell him.

On the other hand, their weird secrecy made it easy for him not to answer the unspoken question, so he felt no guilt about plowing through. "Well?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Ogden hummed thoughtfully as he approached the table, gesturing at the wyvern's mangled form. "Wyverns, even young ones, have a natural affinity for air, so they are the perfect choice for you. Hatchlings like the one you fought during your little escapade aren't fully developed, as they can only generate a rudimentary current with their scales. It's a useful ingredient, and I'm sure we'll make good coin selling the remains to Alluria's fat merchants, but that's not where the real prize lies in an adult like this."

Nick crossed his arms. "And where does it lie?"

Ogden first pointed to the shattered remains of the wings. "Take the wing bones, for example. Mana channels run through them, making them highly attuned to their element. However, they can be challenging to work with—brittle if mishandled and better suited for crafting than for alchemy." He paused again, and Nick got the impression the old man was waiting for Rhea to say something. When she didn’t, he carried on as if nothing had happened. “And before you ask, yes, they are similar to what people do with their internal patterns, but these are instinctual. There is no other way for a wyvern's magic to develop. People aren't as limited."

That was fascinating, and Nick would have liked to hear more, but he knew better than to be too greedy.

Ogden moved to the wyvern's throat, where sinewy strands lay exposed. "The vocal cords are also an excellent choice. Wyverns use them to amplify their roars, manipulating both sound and wind. When properly processed, they're powerful ingredients for anything related to air manipulation. This could be a good option since you want help with your affinity. In fact, aside from the last ingredient, it is the best you'll find in Alluria's region. For more, you'd have to head north."

Finally, Ogden pointed to the skull, tapping just above the ruined eye sockets. "But if you're looking for the most concentrated source, it's the amygdala. It's small but packed with raw elemental essence. Of course, it's also the most dangerous."

Nick frowned. "Dangerous how?"

Ogden gave him a pointed look. "The magic within a creature like this—especially in something as concentrated as its amygdala—is far greater than what someone at your level can manage. Even if I were to brew it into a potion, you'd risk overdosing. At best, you'd burn out your ability to use mana. At worst…" He let the sentence hang ominously.

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Nick swallowed hard. The thought of wielding that kind of power was tempting, but not at the cost of his life. "Is there a way to dilute it? Make it safer?"

Ogden stroked his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Diluting it would be a waste. The potency is what makes it valuable. But…” He trailed off, then nodded as if coming to a decision. "I can hold it for you. A stasis field would keep something as small as the amygdala preserved for a while—years, even. That way, you can save it until you're ready to use it."

Nick's shoulders relaxed slightly. "How much would that cost?"

Ogden's lips curved into a thin, calculating smile. “The right amount, of course."

Nick groaned inwardly. Of course, it would. "How much, exactly?"

Ogden shrugged, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Depends on how long you need it held. A month? Not much. A year or more? Let's just say you'd better start earning."

Nick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figures."

Ogden clapped him on the shoulder, softening his expression slightly. "Look, lad. You've got potential, I'll give you that. But don't get ahead of yourself. Power like this cannot be gained quickly—the way the System works should tell you that much. Make sure you're ready before you use it."

Nick met the old man's gaze, seeing something close to genuine concern beneath the usual sharpness. It wasn't what he'd expected, but it was oddly reassuring.

"Thanks," Nick said quietly.

Ogden snorted, stepping back. "Don't thank me yet. Go on, make your choice. I've got other things to do."

Nick turned back to the wyvern, his mind racing. The scales and the bones were a reliable choice, as he was confident he could use them as fuel for a ritual similar to what he had performed before—and this time, they might be sufficient on their own so that he wouldn't have to resort to murder. But the amygdala… It might be worth the risk if Ogden could preserve it for him. It wasn't a decision to take lightly, but one thing was clear—he wouldn't waste this opportunity.

The sun dipped low over Floria, painting the dusty streets in shades of amber and crimson as Nick emerged from Ogden's shop, carefully avoiding the still-drying puddles of blood and the remaining workers.

He stepped onto the cobblestones, feeling his muscles protest with every move. The day's labor had taken its toll—hauling, sawing, and negotiating weren't exactly what he would call a good time. Yet, despite the exhaustion dragging at him, a faint sense of satisfaction tugged at the corners of his lips.

At his hip, a new pouch made of ghostgrass rustled softly. Inside, a single wing bone sat snugly alongside a handful of shimmering scales. Getting both had required more haggling than he had done in years. The amygdala, though—that was the true prize. Now preserved in a stasis field deep within Ogden's workshop, it represented a promise for the future, albeit with a cost he hadn't quite figured out how to pay.

As Nick adjusted the pouch, the door behind him swung open again. He turned to see Rhea stepping out.

"You'd better not disappear again, especially if you are going to try to do something stupid with those parts,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

Nick chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Not a chance."

"Fair enough." He shifted, leaning casually against the nearby lamppost. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to leave you hanging, but you know… things happened."

"They always do with you." She rolled her eyes but didn't sound entirely annoyed. "Just make sure to drop by again before you blow yourself up by trying to make a focus without knowing what you are doing."

Nick caught the faint note of something softer in her voice but chose not to comment. "I'll come by then," he said, offering a grin that felt only half as tired as he actually was. He wondered why she was offering now when she had seemed so opposed to even mentioning the subject earlier, but he could only spare so much energy to the thought.

Rhea nodded, satisfied, and turned back toward the shop, disappearing inside without another word.

Nick exhaled, straightening and stretching his sore shoulders. The streets were quieter now, the bustle of the marketplace winding down as townsfolk retreated into their homes after a long day of work. He debated heading straight home but hesitated.

Elia hadn't been at Ogden's today. It wasn't entirely unusual—she had her own life—but Nick couldn't shake the faint worry nagging at him. He hadn't seen her after the battle, and while logic told him she was fine, a part of him wouldn't be satisfied until he knew for sure.

With a sigh, Nick turned northeast.

Elia's home stood at the edge of Floria, just shy of the northern fields. It was a modest house with a well-kept exterior, marked by its occupants' distinct quirks: fox carvings etched into the beams, wind chimes that tinkled gently in the breeze, and a small garden overflowing with wildflowers and herbs. The proximity to the temple was hard to miss, as the spire occupied the horizon. This arrangement wasn't entirely coincidental—kingdom law required beastkin to settle near temples, supposedly to shield them from "unsavory influences."

Nick found the reasoning thin, if not outright patronizing, but Elia's family bore it with quiet grace.

As he approached, Nick slowed, feeling movement near the front porch. Elia's father, Teo, stood as tall and wide as always. Beside him was a figure Nick hadn't expected to see: Vicar Alexander.

The vicar looked worse for wear. His usual polished demeanor had given way to haggard lines and a sling supporting his bandaged arm, suggesting that everyone in the temple was exhausted after healing those who fought against the stampede. His robes were uncharacteristically rumpled, and a shadow of weariness clung to his every movement.

The two men were deep in conversation. Their voices were too low for Nick to hear, and he hesitated to use his affinity so close to the vicar. As he drew closer, however, they both turned, their gazes locking onto him suddenly.

"Nick," Teo greeted with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"Good evening," Nick replied, glancing between the two men. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all," Alexander said, although his expression revealed a hint of unease. "We were just discussing matters concerning the town's safety."

Teo gestured toward the door, shifting his demeanor to something warmer. "Elia's upstairs. You should go see her."

Before Nick could reply, Elia's mother appeared in the doorway, radiating a matronly aura. She ushered him in so quickly that he barely had time to realize what was happening. "Come, come. Don't keep her waiting. She gets into trouble if she’s too bored, and I’ve already had her do as many chores as she can tolerate.”

Nick climbed the narrow staircase to the upper floor, the wooden steps creaking faintly under his boots.

He paused at the top of the stairs, hearing a faint rustle from one of the rooms. When he pushed the door open, he found Elia crouched by the window, her ears perked and her tail swishing with barely contained curiosity.

She turned at the sound of the door, pressing a finger to her lips. "Shh," she hissed, then waved him over.

Nick stepped inside and closed the door. "What are you doing?" he asked in a low voice.

Elia didn't answer right away, turning back to the window. "Listening," she murmured, gesturing toward the view of the porch below.

Nick crossed the room and crouched beside her. Through the thin glass, he could see the silhouettes of her father and the vicar, still deep in conversation. Their words were muffled, but the tension between them was evident in their body language.

"What are they talking about?" Nick asked, barely above a murmur.

"The main temple requested that all beastkin be inspected once they arrive, " she said with a grimace.