Nakera leaned back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. “Being a team leader has its perks,” she said. “No more herb-gathering, and no more sewer rats. We’re cleared for second-tier missions now: escort jobs, magical artifact retrieval, bounty hunts. Actual work.”
Kuru snorted. “So naturally, our next assignment is babysitting a wine merchant through bandit territory.”
Nakera shrugged. “It pays well. Don’t complain.”
I perked up. “Wait! Sewer rats?”
Both women turned to look at me.
“Yes,” Nakera said slowly. “The bottom-feeder of all bottom-feeder quests.”
“But like… actual giant rats? In the sewers? That’s a real thing?”
“Unfortunately,” Kuru said.
I grinned. “That’s amazing. It’s exactly like in my video… Uh, I mean, low-level tier enemy, disgusting location, super iconic. I’ve always wanted to…”
Nakera held up a hand. “Stop. I don’t need to hear the rest of whatever madness that was. You want to clean sewers?”
“Absolutely,” I said, beaming. “It’s always been one of my dreams.”
“Okay, I had no idea I befriended a sewer goblin,” she said, shaking her head. “But don’t go in alone. Rats are quick and hunt in groups. If you get surrounded, you’re meat. Take at least two people.”
“I’ll find a crew,” I promised. “Rats beware.”
Nakera looked like she wanted to argue more, but her gaze drifted toward the front door. Just like that, her hair darkened, strands of black bleeding out of the usual brown like spilled ink.
I turned to follow her gaze.
Vena.
She walked in, green robes pristine, eyes bright, already speaking quietly to a boy with unruly blood-red hair. His clothes were threadbare, his posture slouched, and his expression screamed, I woke up on the wrong floor of the wrong building.
Vena seemed unfazed by his gloom. She touched his arm lightly as she spoke. He muttered something in return and looked down.
Then she noticed me.
Her face lit up, and she waved with the full enthusiasm of someone who genuinely liked mornings. She pointed at me, said something to the boy, who groaned, and then dragged him across the hall toward our table.
When they reached us, Vena smiled broadly. “Alice! Nakera, Kuru. I want you to meet someone.”
The boy gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey.”
“This is Calr,” Vena said, beaming. “He used to be one of the orphans from the temple. He’s also Sara’s brother, you know, the soulbook seller?”
That made me blink. “Wait, really?”
Calr gave me a tired, sideways grin. “Yep. That’s me. Lucky, am I not?”
Nakera tilted her head, her tone neutral. “Haven’t seen you around.”
“He looks like one of Yon’s misfits,” added Kuru.
Calr gave her a theatrical shrug. “Yeah. I try not to be noticed. Fewer problems that way.”
Nakera exchanged a glance with Kuru, wordless, practiced. Kuru replied with a small shrug.
“I was just talking to him about teaming up,” Vena said. “He’s good with knives. And I figured, since I’m registering today…”
“And I told you you’re better off teaming up with someone else,” Calr cut in. “I’m not doing great. I’ll probably fail to pay the yearly fees and get kicked out. I’d rather not drag you down with me.”
“If you’re in that much trouble, maybe I should be helping you,” she insisted.
“Listen,” he said, “you’re friends with Nakera. She’s got more experience. Why not team up with her for a couple of months, just to get the lay of the land? I’ll still be here by then.”
Nakera’s hair flickered even darker; it almost looked purple. “Great idea! I’d love to have you on my team.”
“I guess that should be fine,” Vena said warmly.
Nakera stood almost immediately. “This receptionist is useless. Let me show you around first.”
“I'd better follow,” Kuru sighed. “Someone has to make sure she doesn’t embarrass herself.”
“If you want anything administrative done, come during Nada’s shift,” Nakera was already saying. “She works under the yellow sun.”
Kuru gave Calr a little nod before strolling after them.
That left me and the red-haired misfit.
Calr sat down heavily and groaned. “Thank the Lady she listened to reason.”
“Are you against teaming up with her?”
“Vena’s fine. I’ve got no problem with her.”
“But…” I probed.
“But she’s an overachiever and tends to attract attention,” he said. “Every team will want a piece of the new healer, and I’d be dragged along on crazy adventures and life-shattering events.”
“She’s not that bad,” I laughed.
“Wanna bet she’ll be part of a dragon hunt by year’s end?”
I thought about it, then sighed. “No bet. She definitely will be. She needs bravery for her next ascension to paladin.”
“Exactly!”
“What about you?” I asked. “You’re Holy, right? Are you aiming for a class?”
“Girl, that’s not something you ask someone in my situation,” he said, sighing. “If I were close to a Holy class, do you think I’d be struggling this much?”
“Oh… sorry,” I said, wincing.
Shit. I did the same thing to Louis when we first met. I need to stop putting my foot in my mouth.
“Yeah. Being a skeptic when you’re born, Mythic is a struggle. I can’t fake blind faith, so that path is barred to me. And I can’t train like Kindreds or Bloodlines either…”
“That only leaves soulbooks.”
“Yeah. And those cost money. A lot.”
“So, how about we go make some money?” I grinned. “Have you ever cleared sewers?”
His brow furrowed. “Are you serious? You want to go down there?”
I grinned wider. “Of course.”
His eyes clouded for a second, his face gone slack as if he was lost in thought, then he nodded.
“Sure, why not?” he smiled.
Calr and I walked together toward the mission board, dodging a pair of bickering adventurers.
The job was still posted: “Sewer Rat Cull - 1 bronze coin per rat. Fresh tail submissions only. Guild signature required for bounty payout.”
“Bronze per rat?” Calr said, squinting at the parchment. “Your boots must cost at least ten rats. Are you really sure you want to wade through sewer juice for this?”
I looked down at my new shoes. Soft, white leather and nicely stitched.
“They are Cloud sheep leather,” I said, lifting one foot slightly for emphasis. “They cost sixty rats, thank you very much.”
Calr started. “And you want to flavor them with sewer stench.”
I grinned. “They are waterproof, unlike your sandals.”
He shook his head. “Alright then. Let’s say I want to pay my guild fees with rat money. What’s that, three hundred and sixty rats?”
“Nope. Double that. We’re splitting the bounty, remember?”
He groaned. “Seven hundred and twenty rats. Maybe I should be the one dragon hunting?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I said. “I am sure that there are enough rats to build a house in a city as big as Hano.”
“We'll probably find the first twenty easily, maybe forty, if the sewers haven’t been cleared recently. After that, the rats are smart enough not to run toward the slaughter.”
While we were joking, someone stepped quietly beside us at the board. I turned.
Kan.
She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her blue bodysuit looked like it was made of Kevlar despite being skintight. She barely glanced at us as she scanned the board, her jaw clenched, shoulders tight. Her eyes skimmed one contract, then another, and then sank just a little lower with each rejection.
Everything posted required teams. Or a partner. Or high clearances.
I stepped closer. “Hi. I’m Alice.”
She blinked. “Hi.”
“I’m putting together a team for a mission,” I said. “Nothing fancy. Just a sewer rat bounty. Want in?”
She looked at me like she was trying to figure out what kind of game I was playing. But after a moment, she gave a small nod.
“Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”
Calr hissed as we turned. “Why would you invite her? I told you I don’t like getting noticed, and she’s the most infamous girl in the guild.”
“She’s also probably the most competent,” I said, “Now come on.”
Before he could protest, I channeled my inner Vena. I dragged him toward the front desk.
The receptionist on duty today was not Nada. A thin woman with a long, sharp face and a silver quill looked up from her paperwork as we approached. Her eyes flicked to Kan, and her mouth curled like she’d bitten into a lemon.
“Are you sure about this?” she said to me, her voice cool. “You want to team up with the daughter of a traitor?”
She didn’t even look at Kan when she said it.
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
Before I could think of the right words, Calr cut in.
“We’re going into the sewers,” he said, voice dry. “Not escorting nobility.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “I suppose it’s fine to take rats with you when you’re hunting their cousins.”
That one stung, and I wasn’t even the target.
I saw the flicker in Kan’s expression, the twitch in her jaw. I considered making a fuss. I really did. But I was still too new here. I had no reputation or rank to leverage.
So I just signed the contract, gave the woman a fake smile, and led the team out of the guild hall. As we stepped out into the sunlight, I turned to Kan.
“Hey. I’m sorry about what the receptionist said.”
Kan shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
Her voice was flat, not bitter. Just... resigned.
I frowned. “Well, you shouldn’t have to be.”
Behind me, Calr cleared his throat. “So… rats. Sewer. Right. Should we talk about roles before we go down there and die of shame or disease?”
“Sure,” I said. “What can you two actually do?”
Calr puffed up a little. “I am good with throwing knives, short swords, too. I hit what I aim at, but I don’t have the strength to kill something with one throw.”
“And I’m strong and agile. Kindred. My father was really strong, so I haven’t hit my talent cap yet,” Kan explained. She tapped the coil of rope slung over her shoulder. “I have a weighted rope for snaring. I can trip or tie down a target if they’re not too fast. I also have a short sword for when things get close.”
“I’m spear-based,” I said. “And I use powers from a lightning Soulbook.”
Calr gave a low whistle. “Lightning, huh? That could work in the sewers.”
I nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s take an hour to get ready and meet up at the guild gates?”
They both agreed.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Back at the freelancer dorms, I climbed the creaky stairs to my room and peeled off my morning clothes. For once, I didn’t reach for my battered old training set. Instead, I pulled out something I’d bought on one of my outings with the girls a few weeks back, cured leather pants that fit well, a padded cotton shirt, and a simple leather vest I’d snagged at a half-price stall. I also put on a scarf as a face mask; I was going to the sewer after all.
It didn’t look flashy, but it felt right. Adventurer-core.
I eyed my training spear in the corner.
Then left it behind.
If I were going to slay rats in the sewer, I wanted something with more edge.
We regrouped an hour later outside the guild walls.
Calr had swapped his sandals for ratty brown boots that had seen better days. A belt held his short sword and a cluster of throwing knives. His posture had changed; it was less slouchy and more streetwise.
It looked like putting on his gear reassembled him.
Kan, on the other hand, looked almost the same. A weighted whip hung from her belt, coiled like a predator waiting to strike. She carried a knotted rope, a detached grappling hook, and a short sword slung behind her back.
I guessed she was already ready for battle when we met earlier.
“I need a new weapon,” I admitted. “My training spear’s not going to cut it. Do you guys know any good shops?”
Calr grinned. “You’re in luck. There’s a second-hand place a few alleys deep in the market district. It's solid. Yon always arms his crew there.”
Kan nodded. “I’ve been there. It’s run by a guy with no fingers on one hand, right?”
“Perfect,” I said.
We walked through the market district, deep enough to nearly reach the West Gate before cutting left. The shop was easy to miss, just a hanging sign carved with the word ARMORY and a faded curtain where a door should be.
Inside, the air smelled of old steel and oiled wood. Spears, swords, daggers, and axes lined the walls; some chipped, some spotless, all functional.
A bald man with only a thumb on his left hand looked up from behind the counter. “Looking for a weapon?” he rasped.
“Yes,” I said. “A spear.”
He gestured toward a rack without saying a word.
I tried a few; some were too heavy, others too short, one that felt too ornamental, like it belonged in a museum. Then I found her: ashwood shaft, leather grip, reinforced metal bindings. The balance was clean, the length perfect for my stance.
I gave it a few testing swings.
It was smooth and balanced, just right for my hand.
“I’ll take this one,” I said.
“Three bronzes,” the man said.
“Oh come on, old man,” Calr cut in. “If Yon was here, you’d give it to him for free. One bronze coin.”
“Well, you’re not Yon. Two bronze. Final price.”
I paid without flinching. The spear was worth at least five.
As we left the shop and started weaving back toward the main road, I glanced at the others.
“Where’s the entrance, anyway?” I asked. “To the sewers, I mean.”
Kan didn’t hesitate. “There’s one right next to the guild. That’s the one I’ve always used. Done three rat hunts down there.”
Calr rubbed his chin. “There’s another one deeper in the slums. If you don’t feel like going back to the guild.”
“Is there a difference?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Never actually gone rat hunting before, so… I have no clue.”
Kan gave him a sidelong look. “The guild entrance is where most extermination teams go. It might be more cleared out, but it’s probably safer.”
“Yeah,” Calr said with another shrug. “But if we want more money, maybe we should try the slums first. We can always run if things get too dangerous.”
They both looked at me.
“Okay,” I said. “We are not too far from the slums. Let’s go check it out first.”
The slum-side sewer entrance turned out to be a squat little shack built against the edge of a waterway. A spiral staircase descended from inside, vanishing into the dark. A group of teens loitered nearby, dirty clothes, street-hardened stares, the kind of kids who didn’t ask for help because no one ever gave it.
Kan and I slowed as we approached.
“I thought all orphaned children were cared for by the temple,” I whispered.
“Not all poor children are orphans,” she said, giving me a look. “Some of them just have poor parents.”
Fair point.
Calr didn’t hesitate. He walked up to one of the kids.
“Hey! Rillan?” he called out, waving. One of the teens, a wiry boy with a chipped tooth and a homemade dagger on his belt, looked up.
“Calr?” Rillan blinked, then grinned. “You’re not dead?”
“Not yet. You guys are still messing with the sewers?”
Rillan’s grin faded. “Used to. We’d trap rats for meat. But a few months back, things changed. The rats… started eating their own dead. We couldn’t even harvest anything from the traps.”
He scratched the back of his neck. ‘’Boss said not to go down there anymore.”
“I’m with a guild team now,” Calr said, jerking a thumb at Kan and me. “We’re checking it out.”
Rillan gave a short nod and jogged over to whisper something to an older teen, maybe seventeen or eighteen. His arms were crossed, and he had a watchful face.
Kan leaned closer. “If the rats are eating their dead, they might’ve turned.”
“Turned?” I asked.
“From regular beasts to monsters.”
“Is that worse?”
“Yes. More aggressive. More unnatural. Some don’t even feel pain the same way.”
That was... not comforting.
We reached the shack. Calr pushed open the creaking door. A waft of stale, damp air rolled up from the spiral staircase beyond.
Just as we were about to descend, the older teen walked over and stopped a few paces away. He looked at me, then Calr.
“Malik, right?” Calr asked.
“Yeah.” The boy nodded once. “Are you going to clear it out?”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“If you secure the place, can I come in after? To collect the corpses?”
I hesitated. “You shouldn’t be eating them. Especially if they’ve turned into monsters.”
He shook his head. “Won’t eat ’em. We’ll sell them to the compost factory. They buy anything. Use decay magic to break it all down into fertilizer.”
Calr stepped in. “What’s the rate?”
“Thirty coppers per usable corpse.”
“We get half?” Calr asked.
“Done,” said Malik without blinking.
“We’ll flag you when it’s clear,” I said.
The teen nodded and stepped back, letting us pass. We headed inside and began our descent into the sewers.
We pushed open the door at the base of the shack, and the stale, damp air of the sewers rushed to meet us.
The tunnel beyond wasn’t the rough-hewn kind you’d see in a mine. It was a cleanly carved cylinder, uniform granite blocks lining the walls and floor, fitted with perfect seams. it wasn't natural erosion or pickaxe work, this was mage craft. Probably some Earth Bloodline talent, judging by the smooth curves and consistent slope. The entire passage tilted gently eastward, designed to guide runoff toward the river east of Hano.
Small drain holes dotted the ceiling at regular intervals, each leading upward to the streets or buildings above. Some trickled foul-smelling water into narrow side gutters, but it was mostly dry; it hadn’t rained in a while. The air buzzed faintly with the rot of things long dead. The smell was strong despite the scarf I used as a face mask.
Kan pulled a softly glowing stone from her pack and slotted it into a leather loop on her belt, keeping her hands free. The faint blue-white light cast long shadows down the mossy tunnel.
“The rotting waste down here can release flammable gas,” she warned. “I was told not to use flame torches.”
I raised a brow. “So it’s not safe to use my powers?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “The air near the entrance should be fine. Why not fire off a bolt as far down the tunnel as you can? If it doesn’t explode, we’re probably in the clear.”
“Probably,” I muttered, but did as she suggested.
I focused, summoning my will, and hurled a bolt of lightning deep into the darkness.
It cracked through the tunnel with a brilliant flash, echoing off stone and filth.
Nothing exploded.
Instead, we heard squeaks, chirps, hisses, and the sound of claws on stone. A lot of claws.
From the shadows ahead, a tide of rats poured toward us. Twenty, maybe more. Their eyes gleamed with the unnatural hunger of monsters.
I stepped forward, spear in hand. I had the best armor and the longest reach. That made me the tank.
Behind me, Kan swung her rope. The weighted loop flew out and caught the lead rat around the neck. With a sharp yank, she used its momentum to slam it into another. The two snarling beasts turned on each other, thrashing and biting.
Calr moved up beside her, throwing knives in both hands. He didn’t try to kill them; he just aimed to slow them, knock them off rhythm so they didn’t all swarm me at once.
I held my ground.
Instead of throwing another lightning bolt, I waited. As the front ranks entered my aura range, I let loose a chain arc, electricity jumped from my skin to theirs, crackling with sharp pops. Stunned, the rats stumbled, perfect openings. I stabbed again and again, the ashwood spear dancing in my hands.
It worked. My soul was able to overwhelm theirs.
This trick would never fly against anything with a stronger soul than me, but these beasts didn’t stand a chance.
Kan dropped her rope and drew her short sword, slashing at my side to keep them from circling us.
Calr ran out of knives. So he switched it up. With a focused breath, he began hurling glowing spheres, Force Balls, from the Perfect State soulbook. Each one hit like a solid punch. They didn’t kill, but they staggered the rats long enough for us to finish them. After eight throws, he too joined us with his short sword.
We fought in rhythm: stun, stab, slash, and strike.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I realized something that almost made me stumble.
I was smiling.
This was my first real fight against monsters.
Not training dummies.
Not sparring partners.
Real monsters with eyes that gleamed with hunger and teeth meant to tear flesh.
And I was grinning like an idiot.
Lightning hummed in my veins. My spear felt like an extension of my body. The air stank of rot and magic and burning fur, but I felt alive in a way I never had before.
Not because I liked killing or because I enjoyed the blood.
it was Because I was doing it. I was holding the line. I was protecting my team. I was just like the characters in my favorite stories.
And I wasn’t failing or running away.
When the last rat collapsed in a twitching heap, we stood surrounded by twenty-nine corpses.
I glanced down. Two had gotten close enough to bite me, but my new boots held.
Not a scratch. I grinned. Money well spent.
Kan grabbed one of the bodies and dragged it toward the exit. “Let’s fall back. More could be on the way.”
We retreated to the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard.
“That was amazing!” I said, practically bouncing.
“Twenty-nine rats in one go!” Calr echoed, just as giddy.
Kan knelt by the corpse and sliced it open. She reached in with practiced hands and extracted a small, dark stone glinting with foul energy.
“A monster core,” she said quietly. “Death affinity.”
Calr’s smile dimmed. “That means they’ve all turned.”
Kan wiped her blade clean. “We could harvest the tails and check for more cores. Turn it in now. It’s enough for a report and a payout.”
“Or,” Calr said, voice low and excited, “we press on. Strike while we’ve got momentum. Cores bring good coins.”
I looked down at the blood on my hands, then at the dead rat still twitching with the last spasms of rigor mortis.
And I smiled again. A plan was already forming.
“No need to chase them,” I said. “Let’s make them come to us.”
Kan gave me a wary look. “What are you thinking?”
I lifted my hands, still faintly crackling with lightning.
“We ambush them.”
Calr came barreling around the corner like a man possessed. His shirt was flapping, his hair wild, and his eyes wide open with panic and self-loathing.
In one hand, he clutched a glowstone, casting wild, jerking shadows. In the other, a small brass bell rang like an alarm spell gone wrong.
Behind him came the sound of claws on stone.
Five rats.
Big, fast, and wrong.
Their eyes gleamed with monstrous malice, and their fangs glistened with rot as they raced through the narrow sewer tunnel.
Calr leapt between the barrels, arms pumping, legs kicking madly. He cleared the narrow bottleneck and collapsed beside me, panting like a dog in the desert.
“They’re…!”
Click.
The first rat landed on the trap.
Snap.
The top metal plate flexed and contacted the bottom plate. The circuit closed.
CRACK!
A blinding flash of lightning surged through the narrow gap, catching the first rat mid-lunge. Its body arched, went stiff, and slammed into the stone floor, smoke trailing from its ears.
One after another, they ran straight into the spark zone, their momentum carrying them forward even as they spasmed and dropped in twitching heaps.
Kan moved like clockwork. She darted forward, using my spear like a butcher’s hook: stab, pull, and drag. She was clearing the corpses to make way for the next one.
By the time the fifth body hit the floor, the trap was slick with scorched fur and half-melted claws.
And I was grinning, still kneeling, arms raised, chains tight in each hand. My right hand was positively charged. My left, negatively. A living battery.
“You’re insane,” Calr wheezed from the floor.
“No,” I said, “I’m a genius.”
After my training with Garo and my practice while charging the phone, I’d realized something important: I didn’t just produce electricity, I could channel it in my body.
I created a loop where power built inside me, but didn’t discharge. The trick was in the setup.
- The chains were held aloft, never touching the ground, only connected through my hands.
- The metal plates were mounted on dead wood, non-conductive, unlike the stone floor beneath them. That meant no grounding and no mana waste. The energy stayed inside me until the loop was complete.
I wasn’t casting a lightning bolt in the normal way, I was storing it like a battery, waiting for a bridge.
And the rats?
The rats were the switch. Whenever they stepped on the plates, they completed the circuit with their bodies.
After the final rat fell, we held position for a minute. Nothing else came, just the distant drip of runoff and the faint sizzle of singed fur.
Then the work began.
Kan checked the bodies for cores while Calr, still grumbling, collected tails. I reset the plates and shook out my arms. My fingers did tingle a little, but the cost of mana had been minimal. The trap drew only when triggered.
We’d barely finished stacking the corpses when Malik and his boys showed up.
Their eyes lit up when they saw the pile.
In less than ten minutes, they were hauling the bodies off to the surface, some wrapped in tarps, others dragged by ropes tied around the legs.
We handed over nearly thirty more.
When we returned to the base of the stairs, we found three actual chairs waiting, stolen or salvaged from gods-knew-where. Malik had even laid down an old curtain like a carpet.
One of the younger teens handed me a jug of fruity, sugary juice. Another gave Kan a cleaning towel and a wash basin. Calr received what looked like a meat-and-herb sandwich, still warm.
“Are we... being worshiped?” I asked, dazed.
“They’ve realized,” Kan said flatly, “that feeding us means more rats. More rats mean more coins.”
Malik stepped forward with a grin. “Anything else you need? More scrap metal? Extra knives?”
Calr reclined in his chair like a little lord. “You wouldn’t happen to have back rubs and scented oils?”
“Calr,” Kan deadpanned.
“Worth asking.”
I took a sip of the juice. It was absurdly sweet. I felt mana tingle in my veins, or maybe that was just a sugar rush.
“Hey, Malik,” I said, lowering the jug. “Do you know if the fertilizer factory uses death affinity cores to decay the rat corpses?”
He blinked. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about magic.”
“Could you ask around? And if they do, see how much a small core’s worth?”
He nodded and jogged off.
“We could always sell the cores at the guild,” Kan said. “I usually get one bronze per core of this quality.”
“Nah,” Calr said, mouth full. “Alice is right. Always skip the middleman when you can.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes, arms sore but buzzing with success.
I’d built a death trap in a sewer. Fried monsters like a human Tesla coil. And got a street gang to serve me fruit juice like some kind of sewer nobility.
I grinned into the jug.
“This,” I whispered, “is peak Isekai life.”
By the time we called it quits, the count was impressive.
120 rat tails, cleanly cut and bundled for guild bounty.
30 monster cores, all Death affinity, pulled from bloated corpses.
Malik confirmed what we’d hoped: the fertilizer factory did in fact buy Death-aligned monster cores, using them to decay organic waste into enriched compost. They paid three bronze coins a piece.
We made a quick tally:
- 120 bronze from rat tails.
- 30 bronze from our cut of Malik’s sewer corpse trade.
- 90 bronze from the cores.
That gave us a total of 240 bronze coins. Four silver.
Four silver. For eight hours of work in a sewer.
I nearly fell over.
“That’s more money than I’ve made in half a year,” Kan said flatly.
“I didn’t know sewer rats paid this well,” Calr added, brushing rat fur off his pants.
I was sprawled across my chair, a jug of juice still in one hand, beaming. “It won’t always be this good. Rats probably don’t respawn that fast.”
“Respawn?” Calr blinked.
I waved it off. “Never mind.”
He pointed toward the dark end of the tunnel. “Population’s definitely dropped, but we could still go deeper. We might get more, but not at the same rate.”
Kan was still crouched by the bodies, wiping her blade. “They turned into monsters for a reason. There must be a magical disturbance somewhere deeper in. If we find the source and report it to the guild, that’s worth a bounty. Two, maybe three silver.”
Calr frowned. “Or… we don’t report it. Let the rats replenish. Come back in a few days, farm them again. Easy money.”
Kan looked up, her tone sharp. “That kind of magic doesn’t stay confined to rats. If it festers, it could twist other things. Bigger things. This place is too close to the city to leave unchecked.”
She had a point.
I sighed and sat forward, letting the juice rest between my knees. “We’re not trying to become rat-hunters for life. We should make the most of this, fast cash, then put it toward something that makes us better.”
“Like what?” Calr asked.
I looked at him. “Like a new soulbook.”
He blinked.
“You’re fast. And scary accurate with your knives,” I said. “But you’re not strong enough to make those hits count. You need something to boost your strength, maybe something Kindred-based. That kind of combo? You’d be unstoppable.”
He looked at me, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.
“And Kan,” I continued, turning to her. “Your rope trick? Brilliant. But it’s one-and-done in a real fight. If you had a Kinetic soulbook, something that let you manipulate the rope, not just throw it, you’d be deadly.”
She tilted her head. “You’ve thought about this.”
“Of course I have,” I said. “I’m a strategist at heart. And we’ve got time and resources. Let’s use both smartly.”
Kan crossed her arms. “And you? What would you do with your share?”
I grinned. “I want to make a custom weapon. Something like this trap, but portable. A taser-spear, lightning built right in. Stab and zap.”
“What’s a taser?” Calr asked.
“It’s lightning in your pocket,” I said. “Where I come from, women carry them for self-defense.” I grinned wider.
“So, all women from your home are this crazy? Where are you from, anyway?” he asked, frowning. “You fight like you’re from a Bloodline. Dress like a Soul Realm noble. You’re crazier than a Dreamer alchemist. And most of your friends are Holy.”
“She also has the strength of a Kindred,” Kan added.
“I’m nowhere near as strong as Yon or Nakera.”
“Those two have gone through evolutions,” Kan said. “You’re stronger than Calr and Vena. Probably physically stronger than Kuru, and she’s been training for ten years.”
I hesitated. “I’d like to keep my origin… private. For now.”
“Fine, have it your way,” Calr muttered.
The three of us sat there, surrounded by blood, bodies, and potential.
We weren’t heroes.
Just adventurers.