Revvyn rested his forehead against Grimjaw's broad, furred back. The heavy, rhythmic thud of the lion's paws vibrated through his own legs, but the sound was almost soothing now. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, feeling the air move through his lungs without the agonizing whistle of broken bone.
Status, he commanded silently.
The blue light didn't flicker this time. It appeared solid and crisp, a stable pane of glass floating in his mind's eye.
[USER STATUS]
Name: Revvyn
Rank: D (Tier 1)
Class: Slime Tamer
Health: 115/145 (Recovering)
Mana: 90/120
Attributes:
Strength: 18
Agility: 22
Endurance: 19
Intelligence: 15
Active Skills:
[Syll Bond - Level 3] (Growth Rate: +15%)
[NEW] [Serpent's Reflex] - Passive: Minor chance to dodge fatal blows.
[NEW] [Venom Resistance - Grade 1] - Passive: Reduces effect of low-level toxins.
Bond Level: 67%
[NEW FEATURE UNLOCKED: INVENTORY (RANK D)]
Slot 1: [Moonstar Blade (Rare)]
Slot 2: [Midnight Moonflowers x10]
Slot 3: [Empty]
Slot 4: [Empty]
Revvyn stared at the new tab. The Inventory appeared as a series of small, gray squares at the bottom of his vision. Inside the first one sat a tiny, glowing icon of a silver sword. He felt a strange pull, a sense that he could just reach into the air and pull the physical weapon out of nothingness. He could feel the weight of it, not on his hip, but stored in a pocket of space tied directly to his soul.
The Agility jump was the biggest change. Even sitting still, he felt a strange lightness in his joints. His reflexes felt wired, his senses sharper. He swiped the screen away, watching it dissolve into blue sparks. He didn't need the numbers to tell him he was different. He felt it in the way his heart beat, slowed and was steady.
"We're here," Grimjaw growled.
The lion slowed to a walk, its paws crunching through a thick layer of pine needles. They stopped behind a massive ridge of brush. Below them, the village valley opened up, the thatched roofs and curling woodsmoke looking like a toy set in the morning light.
Revvyn swung his leg over the saddle. He dropped to the dirt, his boots hitting the ground with a solid, confident thud. His ribs gave a dull, distant twinge, but the bone held.
He reached up and unfastened the heavy, mud-stained cloak. He pulled the hood back, feeling the cool valley air hit his face, and handed the bundle back up to Grimjaw. The hyena-man snatched it, stuffing it into a saddlebag without a word.
"Thanks for the ride," Revvyn said.
Grimjaw stiffened. He sat atop the lion for a long moment, staring straight ahead at the tree line. Finally, he looked down at Revvyn, baring a jagged row of yellow teeth.
"Don't get cocky, human," Grimjaw spat, his voice a rough snarl. "The next time we meet, I'll have a new army. I'm only letting you go so I can have the pleasure of a real revenge later."
He didn't wait for an answer. Grimjaw kicked the lion's flanks, and the beast leaped back into the shadows of the forest, disappearing in seconds. Revvyn stood alone on the ridge for a moment, then turned and began the long walk down.
The village market was just waking up. The scent of baked yeast and wet cobblestones filled the air as Revvyn navigated the familiar streets. He walked with a different gait now. It was silent, balanced, his eyes scanned the crowd with a focus he hadn't possessed three days ago.
He stopped in front of a narrow, soot-stained building with a sign that read: Vanny's Apothecary & Rare Reagents. Revvyn pushed the door open. A small bell chimed, echoing in the cramped, dusty shop. The air inside was thick with the smell of dried herbs, sulfur, and formaldehyde.
Behind a high wooden counter, a thin man with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose was meticulously counting out tiny, dried lizard tails.
Vane didn't even look up. He adjusted his glasses, his fingers moving with practiced, dismissive speed.
"We aren't buying common herbs today, boy," Vane said, his voice as thin as parchment. "And if you're here for medicine or tonics, the price has gone up. No credit. Come back when you have silver."
Revvyn didn't move. He stood in the center of the shop, his blood-streaked tunic and mud-caked boots making him look like a vagabond. "I'm not here for credit."
Vane finally looked up, eyeing Revvyn's disheveled appearance with clear distaste. He looked at the wet, stained leather pouch Revvyn held in his hand. "Whatever you pulled out of the swamp, we don't want it. We don't accept seaweed or pond scum, no matter how 'magical' you think it is. Get out before you track more mud onto my floor."
Revvyn didn't argue. He reached into his mind, accessing the new Inventory slot.
With a soft, shimmering pulse of light, he pulled the flowers out of the void. He laid them out on the counter one by one. Ten of them.
The petals were translucent, glowing with a soft, pulsating violet light that seemed to breathe. The air in the cramped shop suddenly turned cold and blue. The light from the flowers was so bright it cast long, dancing shadows against the jars of pickled organs on the shelves.
Vane's jaw didn't just drop; it hung open. The lizard tail in his hand fell to the floor, forgotten.
"Moonflowers..." Vane whispered, his voice trembling. He reached out a shaky hand, his fingers hovering just inches above the glowing petals. "Actual, deep-forest Midnight Blooms. These... these haven't been seen in the valley for twenty years. Where did you... how?"
Revvyn didn't answer. He calmly slid three of the flowers back into his inventory, leaving seven on the counter.
"Seven for sale," Revvyn said, his voice flat. "Three stay with me."
Vane looked up at Revvyn, really seeing him for the first time. He saw the scars on Revvyn's arms, the strange, steady light in his eyes, and the way he stood like a predator waiting for a signal. The shopkeeper's arrogance vanished, replaced by a greedy desperation.
"Seven... yes. Seven," Vane stammered. He scrambled beneath the counter, pulling out a small velvet-lined box. "Pristine condition. The mana density is... it's incredible. I can offer you... twenty silver each?"
Revvyn didn't speak. He simply reached out to put the flowers back into his inventory.
"Wait! Wait!" Vane cried, leaning over the counter. "Fine! Ten gold pieces each. Seventy gold for the lot. That is more money than your family has seen in three generations!"
Revvyn stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "One hundred gold for the seven. Or I take them to the city."
Vane turned pale. He looked at the flowers, then at Revvyn, and realized he had no leverage. He nodded, reaching for a heavy iron lockbox. He counted out the coins—one hundred shimmering, heavy gold pieces.
Revvyn swept the gold into his pouch. The weight of it was substantial, a solid, clinking reassurance at his hip. He walked out of the shop without a second glance, leaving Vane staring at the seven glowing flowers like they were fallen stars.
The walk to the forge was the next stop. The smell of burning coal and the rhythmic clink-clink-clink of hammers led Revvyn to the edge of the market district. Tang-Han, the village blacksmith, was hunched over his anvil, his massive, soot-stained back glistening with sweat as he beat a glowing piece of iron into shape.
Revvyn waited, watching the sparks fly. He didn't say a word until Tang-Han quenched the metal in a barrel of water, the hiss of steam filling the workshop.
"I snapped your cutlass at the hilt, Tang-Han," Revvyn said.
The blacksmith let out a long, rumbling sigh, wiping soot from his brow with a meaty forearm. He didn't look surprised. "I told you it was a piece of junk, boy. I told you it wouldn't hold up to a stiff breeze, let alone whatever trouble you were looking for. You're lucky you're back here to tell me about it."
Revvyn stepped into the heat of the forge. He didn't look like the scrawny kid who had begged for a discount three days ago. He looked like a man who had survived a war.
"I'm not here to complain," Revvyn said. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of coins. He dropped them directly onto the anvil.
The coins hit the steel with a sharp, heavy ring. Fifty silver pieces—more than enough to pay for the broken sword and then some. Tang-Han stared at the silver, his eyes widening. He looked at the coins, then back at Revvyn, noticing the way the boy's shoulders had filled out, the way he carried himself with a quiet, dangerous confidence.
"You actually made it back," Tang-Han muttered, his voice dropping an octave. "And you came back rich."
"I did," Revvyn said, his voice steady. "Consider the debt paid. And keep the extra for the trouble."
Tang-Han picked up one of the silver coins, testing it between his fingers. "Where the hell did you go, Revvyn?"
"Somewhere dark," Revvyn replied. He turned to leave, but stopped at the threshold. "Thank you, Tang-han."
He left the blacksmith staring at the coins and headed toward the outskirts of the village.
The streets narrowed as he moved away from the village center. The noise of the market faded, replaced by the familiar creak of old wooden fences and the rustle of overgrown weeds. Revvyn stopped at the gate of his father's small, crumbling cottage.
The blue paint on the front door was still peeling. The porch still sagged.
He pushed the gate open, his hand steady on the latch. He was home.