Chapter 14: Monster Hide

Lucian stood in front of a house in the middle of Provera, hesitating. The place was larger than most of the surrounding buildings, its spires stretching toward the sky, wrapped in twisting ivory and vines that hung just as low as the towers were tall.

Time had not been kind to the estate. The stone walls, once strong and proud, had been weathered smooth. Intricate engravings—likely stunning in their prime—were now cracked and faded.

The wooden door before him featured an arched window, its glass hazy with dust and grime. And yet, despite needing a thorough cleaning, it shimmered as people passed behind him. A moment later, it shimmered again—this time from movement inside.

The door creaked open.

“Mr. Lucian!” Lucian barely had time to react before he was pulled into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you! It’s so good to see you!”

Lucian exhaled. “Heh. Hey.” His enthusiasm—or lack thereof—was painfully obvious, but the merchant didn’t seem to notice.

“Please, come in!” The man stepped aside, ushering Lucian inside. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Lucian crossed the threshold, taking in his surroundings. The interior mirrored the exterior—grand, yet in desperate need of restoration. A massive bifurcated staircase was the first thing that caught his eye, its dull-toned stone leading up to a second floor swallowed in darkness.

Beyond the staircase stretched a hallway leading to what looked like a sitting area. A couch, two armchairs, and a small table sat neatly arranged in front of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the estate’s courtyard.

As the merchant closed the door, Lucian glanced down the two corridors branching off to either side. Doors lined the halls, but their destinations remained a mystery.

“Forgive the mess,” the merchant said as he strode toward the sitting area. “I still haven’t quite settled in yet. I hired a cleaning crew, but they won’t be available for a few more days.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anywho! Would you like a cup of tea?”

Lucian’s gaze swept over the room. Run down or not, the place still looks nice. “No. No, thank you. I’m, uh…” He searched for an excuse to leave, but nothing came to mind.

Fortunately, the merchant provided one for him. “Are you in a rush?” he asked. “In the middle of a quest?”

“Uh, yeah, actually!” Lucian said, a little too quickly. Technically, he had picked up a quest from the guild—a routine one, nothing urgent. He planned to head to the designated location, Valen Gorge, after shopping for supplies. But if this was his way out of an extended conversation, so be it.

“Then we mustn’t dally!” the merchant declared, raising a finger dramatically. “I’d be damned if I delayed anyone from fulfilling a guild request—especially you, Mr. Nyx! Follow me.”

Without waiting, the merchant marched past Lucian and strode toward the courtyard. He stopped just before the exit, turning back with an expectant look. Lucian sighed and followed.

The courtyard, once grand, had long since withered. The cobblestone paths remained intact, weaving between arched walkways and circling a stone fountain—but the fountain had run dry, its basin overrun with weeds and moss. What should have been a vibrant garden was instead a graveyard of dead trees and brittle, leafless bushes, all pleading for water and a thorough de-weeding.

“This place used to be full of life,” the merchant mused as they walked. “Trees, birds, people. Everyone loved passing the time here.” He paused. Then, with a quiet sigh, he added, “But that was ages ago. Since my parents died, I…” His voice trailed off.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, forcing a smile. “No use dwelling on the past, right? Anywho, the place is just up ahead.” He pointed toward a set of closed double doors at the end of a hallway. White sheets covered the portraits lining the walls, their once-proud faces obscured by time and neglect.

Lucian eyed the doors. “Alright, but why the roundabout way of doing this?”

The merchant blinked. “Pardon?”

Lucian pulled out the parchment from his pocket. “The note you gave me. All it said was, ‘Come visit my house. I have something you’ll want to know about.’ And what’s with this key, anyway?”

The merchant’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “The key opens the door.”

Lucian gave him a blank look. “Right. And that means what, exactly?”

The merchant chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Am I not conveying what I want to convey? I never was good at these kinds of things.”

Lucian crossed his arms. “These kinds of things?”

The merchant hesitated, then admitted, “Making friends.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a merchant,” the man continued, avoiding his gaze. “Everything I do—everything—is business-related. Even my family struggled with that, but we had each other, so it never mattered.” His voice grew quieter. “But after my parents died… traveling suited me more. I didn’t have to be alone in this place when I was always on the move.”

Lucian could sympathize. But not enough to get emotionally invested. “So… the key is…?” he prompted.

The merchant took a breath, then smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “It’s my way of saying you’re always welcome here. You and your friends.” He hesitated. “Well, friend.” His expression faltered. “I’m sorry. I forgot that Sir Hugh is… is…”

His shoulders shook. His breath hitched. Without another word, he turned away, his composure breaking into quiet sobs. Lucian watched, awkwardly shifting his weight. “Please,” the merchant managed, voice strained. “Continue into the room with me. I-I just need a few minutes.”

Lucian shrugged and stepped toward the door. Wonder what he thinks is so impressive that I’ll want to keep coming back? Still, it wasn’t a bad deal. If this place had a bed, it meant he wouldn’t have to waste money on guild boarding anymore.

He shoved the key into the lock and turned. Gears clicked and shifted behind the door, lifting it just slightly—just enough to make swinging it open effortless.

Inside was a small room, not even half the size of the living area. In one corner sat a simple wooden table, a chair, and scattered writing materials. In another, a much wider table stood cluttered with tools, thrown about as if someone had abandoned them in a hurry. Beside it sat an anvil—large, broad, and well-worn.

At the far end of the room, an old bookcase loomed. Unlike everything else, it was the only piece of furniture untouched by time. Layers of cobwebs and dust coated its surface, as if no one had dared to touch it in years.

Lucian frowned, finally taking in the dimly lit space. “What in the…?” There was something off about the bookcase. Not just the untouched condition or the thick cobwebs, but the smell. Faint. Metallic. Lucian’s instincts prickled, but the moment passed as the merchant spoke, and the feeling slipped away.

“You’re a Blacksmith, right?” The merchant had appeared beside him, hands clasped together in excitement. “Figured you’d need a workshop like this.”

Lucian gave him a skeptical glance. “And what’s the deal with that?” He gestured toward the dusty bookshelf.

“Ah, now this—” The merchant practically skipped toward the shelf, plucking out a book at random. “—this is quite the treat. Just you wait.” He blew a thick layer of dust off the cover—only to immediately break into a coughing fit. Lucian crossed his arms, unimpressed.

After regaining his composure, the merchant turned back to him with a grin. “My family traded with all sorts of people. Some were grateful enough to pay us with more than just Gold or Platinum. These books contain trade secrets, whispered rumors that could ruin nobles and kings alike, and—what I think you’ll lean toward the most—crafting recipes.” He spread his arms dramatically. “Gathered from tradespeople across the land.”

Lucian’s mind snapped to attention. He rushed forward and snatched the book right out of the merchant’s hands. Just what I was looking for!

“So?” The merchant grinned, watching Lucian flip through the pages. “What do you say?”

Lucian barely glanced up. “I’d say… you just got yourself a roommate.”

The merchant squealed with joy and bolted out of the room, no doubt to prepare an actual bedroom for him. Meanwhile, Lucian stayed put, flipping through the book, soaking in new recipes with every turn of the page.

Then, he stopped. His eyes lingered on one particular entry.

Mastercraft Boots

* 18 pieces of Hardened Leather

* 2 lengths of Rubber

* 14 Monster Hides

* 5 Gold

Mastercraft Boots! Not sure if this is in the same vein as the Master Shield, but it’s a start. Let’s see now…

He lifted his head from the page and opened his [Crafting] menu. Maybe… just maybe… He scrolled down, fingers tapping impatiently until he found the list of items starting with the letter ‘M’.

[Crafting]

[Master 1 Boots] — [Master Core 1, Mastercraft Boots 1, Iron 30/Silver 15/Gold 5/Platinum 1]

Yes! The recipe translated to his [Crafting] menu. Now there was just one problem. Where the hell do I get monster hides?

* * *

The dimly lit halls of the cult’s sanctuary were eerily silent, save for the faint echo of Enoch’s footsteps against the stone walls. His heart pounded as he approached the same ornate double doors he had entered weeks ago. But this time, the weight of his report felt even heavier.

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Another Master Beast had fallen. And once again, it was at the hands of that Blacksmith.

Enoch pushed the doors open, the familiar creak shattering the low murmurs of prayer from the masked figures within. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck as heads turned toward him, silent and watchful. He bowed quickly in apology and hurried toward the small room where Faust awaited.

Faust sat by the fireplace, his silhouette cast in flickering shadows. He didn’t look up as Enoch entered, his voice calm, but laced with an edge that made Enoch’s stomach churn. “You have news, Enoch?”

Enoch swallowed. “Yes, Faust.” His voice trembled. “Another Master Beast has been killed. The Dan-gow.”

Faust’s head snapped up, cold eyes narrowing. “The Dan-gow? By whom?”

Enoch hesitated, his throat dry. “It… it was the same adventurer. The Blacksmith. Lucian.”

Faust’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair. “Lucian. Of course it was.” A slow, humorless chuckle escaped him as he leaned forward. “And what has he made this time? A weapon? Another shield?”

Enoch quickly shook his head. “No, Faust. He hasn’t made anything yet. The Dan-gow’s Master Core remains unused.”

Faust’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Interesting. Perhaps he’s learning caution… Or perhaps he’s simply biding his time.” He stood, pacing the room in slow, deliberate steps. “And what of the other adventurers? Have they grown bolder?”

Enoch nodded, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He was surprised Faust already knew. “Yes, Faust. Word of Lucian’s victories has spread. Adventurers are declaring themselves the next hunters of Master Beasts. They speak of glory and riches, as if the beasts are nothing more than trophies to be claimed.”

Faust’s smirk widened. “As expected.” His fingers trailed along the edge of the chair, as if savoring the thought. “Milestones like the defeat of a Master Beast are always celebrated. And with celebrations come challenges—made up by those who envy another’s success.”

He stopped pacing, his gaze fixed on the dying embers in the fireplace. “Fools.” His voice darkened. “They forget their place. The Master Beasts are not prey to be hunted. They are guardians. Protectors of balance.”

Turning sharply, he locked his eyes onto Enoch’s, his intensity suffocating. “It seems the people have grown too comfortable. Too arrogant.” His smirk vanished. “They need a reminder of their fragility.”

Enoch swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “What do you propose, Faust?”

Faust’s smile returned—this time void of warmth. “It is time for the Cult of the Red Blade to take action. To make ourselves known.” His voice dripped with satisfaction. “The people must remember what lurks in the dark. We will temper their spirits… and shatter their illusions.”

He strode to a large map of Tel Tahkat pinned to the wall, his fingers tracing the marked cities and towns. “Tell me, Enoch. Which city is hosting the next grand celebration?”

Enoch stepped forward, scanning the map. After a moment, he pointed toward a bustling city near the center. “Darham. They’re preparing for the Festival of Lights… or Lamps… or Lanterns—one or the other. It’s one of the largest celebrations in the region.”

Faust repeated the name, almost savoring it. “Darham.” Satisfaction gleamed in his cold eyes, sending chills down Enoch’s spine. “Perfect.” He turned sharply. “A city brimming with life and pride. An ideal stage for our message.”

His tone hardened. “Gather the cultists. Tell them to prepare for departure. And you, Enoch—” His eyes gleamed in the firelight. “Awaken the Tunneler.”

Enoch’s breath caught in his throat. “The Tunneler? B-But Faust, it hasn’t been awakened in decades. The last time—”

Faust cut him off with a raised hand, his voice sharp as a blade. “The last time,” he said, “it served its purpose. And it will do so again.”

He turned back to the fire, his expression unreadable. “The people of Darham must learn that their celebrations are fleeting. That their peace is an illusion.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The Tunneler will remind them of their place.”

Enoch’s hands trembled. He could hardly imagine unleashing that thing again. But he knew better than to question Faust. His head bowed. “As you command, Faust.”

Faust’s hand gripped his shoulder, firm and unyielding. “Do not falter, Enoch. This is our duty. The balance must be maintained. No matter the cost.”

Enoch nodded. His voice wavered, but he forced it steady. “I understand, Faust. I’ll… I’ll get right to it.”

He had just reached for the door when Faust’s voice stopped him cold. “And Enoch… keep a close eye on Lucian. The cult may have to pay him a visit soon.”

Enoch spun around, swallowing hard. “P-P-P-Pay him a visit? A-Are you sure? I’m not questioning your decision, Faust, but…”

Faust’s voice dropped into a low whisper, so deep it reverberated in Enoch’s bones. “Is there fear in your heart, Enoch?”

Enoch winced. “I—It’s perfectly reasonable, right?” He forced out a nervous laugh. “I mean, he did kill two Master Beasts.”

Faust turned to the fire, the orange glow dancing across his sharp features. “He may have killed two Master Beasts, but he is still just a Blacksmith.” He exhaled slowly. “Nothing I cannot handle.”

Enoch blinked. “You?” He couldn’t stop the word from escaping.

Faust turned his head ever so slightly. “Do you question my ability?”

“N-Not at all!” Enoch stammered. “It’s just… your fighting… it’s said to be legendary. I’m going to envy whoever gets to see it.”

Faust’s smirk returned.

Enoch didn’t wait for a response. He bowed quickly and slipped out the door. Once again, the masked cultists turned to stare at him as he exited. But this time, he didn’t care. Faust was leading the charge. And for the first time in a long while, Enoch felt things were finally going to turn out all right.

* * *

“Come on! Try me, you damn bastards!”

Lucian’s shout echoed through the cave, bouncing off the damp walls. The Choppies—a race of bipedal hyenas with an uncanny sense of darksight—snapped their heads toward him, their eerie, glowing blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of his torch.

Two lunged at him. Then two more appeared. Come at me! Lucian raised his shield and backed up until his shoulders pressed against the cold rock wall. No escape—but that also meant no ambushes from behind.

The first pair charged, their wild, cackling laughter ricocheting through the cavern as they leaped, swinging crude weapons—makeshift blades of carved bone and jagged teeth. Lucian was at a disadvantage in the dim light. But he had two things on his side: his reflexes and his Master Shield.

The shield moved on its own, tilting up just in time to deflect the descending strikes. Lucian wasted no time—he adjusted his stance, tilting the shield downward and swinging wide with his warhammer.

CRACK!

Both Choppies were struck square in the head. One collapsed immediately, dead before it hit the ground. The other, still clinging to life, snarled and lunged—jaws snapping—grabbing onto the grip of Lucian’s hammer. Lucian yanked it closer and slammed his shield into its face. The Choppie staggered, its grip loosening. Lucian didn’t hesitate—he backhanded the beast’s temple with his shield, dropping it for good.

A shuffle of footsteps. Behind me.

Lucian spun on instinct, using the momentum to swing his hammer. One Choppie ducked. The other wasn’t so lucky. The second slammed hard into the cavern wall, pinned by the sheer force of Lucian’s strike.

CRAP—

His hammer was stuck. No matter how hard he yanked, the weapon wouldn’t budge from the stone. The last Choppie rushed him, taking full advantage of his opening. Lucian had no choice—he released the hammer.

The first slash whistled past his head as he ducked. The second strike he caught on his shield. The third came down fast—Lucian barely angled his shield in time, redirecting the attack into the dirt. He retaliated immediately—bashing the Choppie’s snout with his shield. But this one was tougher than the others. It barely flinched.

Lucian cursed under his breath. The Choppie stepped forward, unleashing another frenzied flurry of slashes. Lucian rolled out of the way, exposing his back in the process—a risk, but his only option. He barely got onto his knees before he had to snap his shield up again.

Just in time.

A snarl sounded behind him. Lucian didn’t think. He yanked the weapon free and swung it upward, hard. A wet, sickening shlck echoed through the cave as the blade pierced flesh.

A split second later, searing pain exploded in Lucian’s shoulder. His strike had landed—the blade embedded itself deep in the Choppie’s chest—but it wasn’t enough. The beast lunged forward, jaws snapping down hard on his shoulder.

Lucian gritted his teeth and kicked the Choppie off him. The creature tumbled backward, lifeless. He exhaled sharply and glanced at his HP.

[Main Menu]

HP: 18/20

Mana: 17/17

That bite felt a hell of a lot worse than just two points of damage…

Realization dawned on him. Guess the shield’s damage resistance applies to me as a whole—not just the shield itself.

“A-Are you sure?” came a hesitant voice. “Did you get them all?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Lucian said impatiently. “Now come on—the sooner we get back to the guild, the better.”

One by one, a small group of adventurers emerged from behind a boulder that blended almost seamlessly with the cave wall. Lucian’s eyes swept over them.

A frail man wearing Barbarian armor. A tiny woman clutching a broken bow. An even smaller man with glasses, struggling under the weight of a hammer taller than him. And finally—a Priestess, who seemed to be their leader.

The Priestess rushed toward Lucian, grabbing his hand. “Thank you so much for saving us!” she breathed. “I wasn’t sure how much longer we had until those… things turned us into their next meal.”

Lucian shook his head. “Thank the person who posted the request at the guild.”

When he’d accepted the mission to rescue a group of rookie adventurers—and one of the guild’s members—he had fully expected them to be dead before he even arrived. Good thing those Choppies weren’t nearly as bad as some of the other monsters I’ve dealt with. He glanced at the corpses. Hell, I even managed to kill them all myself.

Oh, right! Lucian turned to go back to the fallen Choppies. He needed to loot them for their hides. But before he could take a step—his legs gave out. His knees buckled. His vision blurred. Wha… What’s happening? The cave spun around him as his body crashed onto the cold, rocky ground.

Distantly, he heard the Priestess gasp. Then she was beside him, kneeling over him, her hands hovering above his chest in alarm. “You’ve been poisoned.” Her voice was urgent. “The Choppies have venomous maws. Were you bitten anywhere?”

Lucian tried to speak. “Sho… Shou—” The words wouldn’t come. Instead, he turned his head slightly, his gaze landing on his shoulder. The deep bite wound throbbed—dark veins already beginning to spread outward from the punctures.

“Don’t worry, I have just the spell for that,” the Priestess assured him. She materialized a golden staff, a holy symbol mounted at its tip, and began chanting. A bright white light radiated from the staff, spreading outward until the ground beneath them began to glow.

“Cure All!” She slammed her staff into the ground near Lucian’s shoulder. Instantly, warmth surged through his body. His vision cleared, strength returning to his limbs in mere seconds.

Lucian exhaled, sitting up. “Thanks.” He locked eyes with the Priestess. “What did you do? Was that a spell?”

For a moment, the Priestess simply stared at him, eyes wide. Then, she hastily cleared her throat. “Uhm, yes! I-It’s a spell! This one, see?” she stammered, opening her [Spells] tab.

[Spells]

[Cure All (10 MP)]

Dispels all Minor Status Ailments afflicting the target. Restores 1 HP.

Lucian frowned. “Minor Status Ailments? There are Status Ailments in general?”

The Priestess blinked, tilting her head. “Err, yes? Things like Poison, Burn, Paralysis, Charm, Confusion, and Disease. Paralysis is the worst of the bunch—you can’t move at all until someone dispels it, or it passes on its own.”

That must be why I couldn’t move when the Dan-gow hit me before… Lucian’s mind spun. Poison. Paralysis. Charm. Confusion. He hadn’t seen half of these in his [Menu]. Either he was lucky, or the game hadn’t finished loading all its horrors yet. And if Cure All was what she considered “basic healing”, he couldn’t imagine what the advanced stuff looked like.

“Wait, so Poison is considered minor?” Lucian scoffed. “Because it sure felt major to me.”

The Priestess laughed and lightly patted his shoulder. “It’s minor because it doesn’t cause lasting damage,” she explained. “It only becomes dangerous if you let it run its course. You must’ve been poisoned for a while before you collapsed.”

“There should be a warning for something like that,” Lucian muttered.

“But there is,” the Priestess said, giving him a puzzled look. “You should see it under your Stats tab, top right corner. I’m surprised someone with your skill hasn’t noticed by now.”

Lucian exhaled. “Yeah, well, I’ve only been here less than a month.” He pushed himself to his feet.

The Priestess’s hands flinched toward him. “Oh, uhm… Are you sure you should be moving?” she asked, voice laced with hesitation. “Perhaps I could do something else for you? Another spell, a massage, or…”

Lucian cut her off with a smirk. “It’s fine. Thanks to you, I feel better now—maybe even better than when I first walked into this cave.”

The Priestess turned bright red, hastily covering her face. “O-Okay then! I suppose it’s time we head back to the guild. Come on, team!” She turned sharply, ushering her party forward.

As they walked ahead, one of them hummed playfully. “Soooomeone’s thirsty…”

“Oh! I have some water here!” the Priestess replied, cheerful as ever.

“Not that kind, ma’am,” another snickered.

Realization dawned on the Priestess’s face as she glanced back—just in time to see Lucian waving at her. She spun around, flustered, disappearing with her party into one of the tunnels leading out of the cavern.

Lucian exhaled, finally alone. Now, where was I? He turned to one of the Choppies, kneeling beside its corpse and waiting for the system prompt to appear.

[Loot?] [Yes/No]

A grin spread across his face. One by one, he looted every Choppie, taking everything they had to offer. After stripping the last one, he opened his [Inventory] to check his haul.

[Iron 65, Bone 30, Steel 14, Wood 22, Monster Hide 40]

More than enough monster hide. Lucian stood up, stretching his shoulders. A satisfied smirk crossed his lips. “Back to the guild I go.”