"Haha! What a funny chap you are, Mell! I'd sure do the same thing in your position—show them rat bastard nobles where their coin really comes from!" Lars roared, laughter booming loud enough to almost shake the dust from the rafters. He threw a thick arm around Pell's shoulders, nearly knocking him off the stool.

"Damn—you're all bones man! You gotta get some meat on yer'self."

Pell could only chuckle with him. He was currently still in disguise, hiding that he was a skeleton. He also came up with a fake name—Mell, to try and keep his identity a secret.

The man took another massive gulp of ale—his fifth by Pell's count—and slammed the mug down hard enough to splash foam across the counter. "Woulda showed them what-for!"

"Hah! I'm sure if you was there, them nobles would've run off with their coattails between their legs!" Pell shouted back, matching the man's tone. He raised his own mug, tilted it up, and let the entire thing pour straight down his hood. The ale sank right into his hood without a sound.

"Keep! Another round for my friend Mell!" Lars bellowed. "Eight drinks and he's still roaring!"

The barkeep grinned and swept up the silver Lars tossed down. "Coming right up!"

Around them, a circle had started to form. Cheers broke out, people half drunk, half entertained by the sight of a hooded stranger outdrinking a seasoned regular. Someone shouted, "Go on, Mell! Let's see how much liver you got left!"

Several mugs and two entire bottles later, Pell was still upright. Lars, on the other hand, was melting over the counter, face red, speech slurred to mush. He'd drank enough alcohol to probably kill a horse twice over.

Minutes had bled into hours.

"Haha… after all those drinks, you're only bareeeely drunk?" Lars slurred, leaning forward against his shoulder. "My wallet's… my wallet's gone, Mell…"

"I never asked ya to pay for me, you fool," Pell said, shaking his head.

"Hah… no, I mean—my wallet's actually gone. Some rat made off with it…"

"Oh." Pell gave a nervous chuckle. "Happens to the best of us."

"Man… that had a photo of my late wife in it…"

Pell coughed into his gloved hand, trying to shift the mood. "Hey, Lars. Been hearing stuff earlier. Something big happening tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah—the big one!" Lars said, eyes glassy. "The one all them shiny bastards are goin' to. Nobles, collectors, even some clergy types, I hear." He hiccupped and raised a wobbly finger. "Big money changin' hands. Stuff worth killin' over."

"Sounds lively." Pell feigned a grin. "Who's supposed to show up?"

"Oh, you know… the upper types. Commoners like us just go to gawk at the shiny things. Ain't none of us getting anything but the scraps." He took a sloppy swig and wiped his mouth. "Word is, the baron's people are comin'. Some from the nearby towns, too. Heard one's a merchant bigwig—MacLathen, I think."

"What about them fat nobles?" Pell asked. "City's gonna be crawling with high-tops; I'd rather know which ones."

Lars perked up, a flicker of pride cutting through the haze. "Nobles? Hah! 'Course they will. I know most of the regulars. Comes every six months or so. Henson'll be there. Jackfell too. And…" he squinted hard at the ceiling. "Think there's a new one. Am… Amber… Amber somethin'."

Pell's hand froze midair. "Amberdean?"

"That's the one! Haha!" Lars shouted, slumping forward until his cheek hit the counter. "Comin' from Valtsbin, I think."

Eiyuria, but close enough. Pell exhaled quietly. This guy's completely trashed.

"All these nobles coming in person?" he asked. "Haven't seen any around."

Lars tried to lift his mug again, failed, and let it clatter back down. "Nah, nah. Them noble bastards ain't walkin' round here like the rest of us. They—hic—send them servant types. Envoys. Whatever the hell they're called these days. They buy for 'em. Nobles just show up in fancy light projections, watch the bids from their estates."

"Hmm. I see," Pell said, tone even, mind already turning over the new information.

It made sense. Nobles didn't need to travel halfway across the region just to throw money at shiny trinkets—they could send an envoy or a servant armed with a purse of gold and a list of orders.

"Though some nobles are in town," Lars mumbled, head still on the counter. "Not a lot, but I think Ulter's here. He's from far-off Narsvell City. One'a the big'uns. Heard him and that Amber-fucker's estate are gunnin' for the same item. Wouldn't wanna miss that fight, heheh."

Pell's fingers drummed once against his mug. So Amberdean and this Ulter guy are both after the same thing?

He didn't know much about Ulter's fortune or status, but if he could buy that item right out from under Amberdean's nose… oh, he'd love to see the look on that man's face.

Lars gave a lazy wave of his hand. "But who knows… maybe he'll back down. Ulter's rich but don't like problems. If he's fightin' another noble over an item, he'll just give up. What a fuckin' pu—hic ah… man, I think I'm done drinkin' for the week." He groaned, slumping lower.

"He'll back down?" Pell muttered under his breath.

To compete directly against Amberdean—to trip him up and make him squirm without ever meeting him face to face—this was a rare chance. It was just too good to ignore.

He nudged Lars's shoulder. No response. Just a groan.

"Hey." Pell pushed again, trying to roll him slightly. "One last thing. This Ulter guy—you said he's in the city? Where?"

The man let out a sound halfway between a burp and a groan. "Gonna hurl…" He swallowed thickly. "Er… yeah… think I saw him near the Highbells district. That's where all the rich folk go…"

And that was it. No matter how many times he tried to shake him, Lars was gone—snoring into the counter, breath sour with ale.

Pell sighed, straightened his cloak, and slid a gold coin toward the barkeep. "Tip. And if you can, get someone to haul him home." He gave Lars two light pats on the shoulder.

The barkeep grinned, tucking the coin away. "Aye. I'll see it done, Sir Mell."

Sir, huh? That was new.

Pell pulled his hood lower and stepped out into the night.

Even was now settling over Shallwick, lamps glowing along the cobblestone streets. Lars had drunk himself halfway to the afterlife. Technically, Pell had outdrunk him by a mile—but he was technically cheating.

He cut down a narrow alley, away from the streetlamps and wandering folk, until he reached a small strip of dirt lined with flowers. Checking the corners, he opened a small rift in the air—a hole leading into his spatial inventory.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

A torrent of liquid burst out, splattering into the soil. It poured for nearly a full minute before the last of the ale, beer, and spirits were gone.

He brushed his gloves off and straightened. Of course he hadn't actually drunk any of it. Each time he'd poured the ale down his hood, he'd opened his inventory just enough to catch it midflow. This saved his act, saved his cloak, and saved the bar from a very awkward puddle.

When the last drop vanished into the dirt, he sealed the rift and stepped back into the main road.

Javey returned about an hour later. As promised, he'd brought 500 liters of blood—drained from the local butcher shop and the Adventurer's Guild's monster processing department. Hopefully, he thought, the type of blood didn't matter.

"I'll leave this ring here with you, Miss Enya," Javey said, placing a small silver ring with an embedded blue gemstone on the workbench. "It's a spatial ring containing the… 500 liters you requested."

He pulled out another identical ring and set it beside the first. "This one holds roughly a thousand kilograms of bones—970, to be exact. I know you asked for as many as possible, but that's all we could take from the guild's supply. If you need more, they'll demand some payment."

Enya stepped over and picked up one of the rings, turning it in her hand. "This ring has all the blood in it?"

Javey winced. Without context, that question sounded deeply concerning. "Yes. Just put it on and hold out your fist, then think about what you want to extract. That ring only holds blood. The other only bones. I separated them since I assumed you wouldn't want some… soggy blood-bone stew."

"Hmm… nah. Maybe I'll make that later, though," she said casually, slipping the ring onto her finger.

"What?"

"Nothing! Thank you, Harvey."

There's not even a J in that…

"N-no problem. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to reach out." Javey gave a small, flustered bow and left through the portal.

With both rings now on—one on her left index finger, the other on the right—Enya was ready to start forming the goliath's base.

She cleared the center of the sanctum by moving the altar and the dungeon core to the corner. Since the sanctum was bound to her soul, shifting objects inside it was easy. Moving the core a few meters barely cost a single point of mana.

Once she had enough space, Enya summoned about five hundred kilograms of bone into a single pile.

A small crystal spider hopped onto it. "Well, the bones are clean at least," Elria said.

The mound reached Enya's shoulders and stretched as wide as her outstretched arms.

"Okay… I think we need to spread it out. Make it into, uh, a skeleton. Roughly."

"What skeleton?" Elria asked.

"Huh?"

"What type of skeleton?"

"What do you mean?"

Elria pointed a leg at her. "You have a human skeleton." Then she curved it toward herself. "If I had bones, I'd have a skeleton too, but it'd look nothing like yours. Same goes for a pig's, or a dragon's. So what are you making exactly? A human skeleton?"

So that's what she meant.

Enya had only been thinking in humanoid shapes—it was what she knew best. She was familiar with rat skeletons now, and somewhat with bear ones, like Ted.E's. The skeletal goliath recipe didn't specify a structure; maybe she could experiment a little.

"I could make a bear skeleton," she mused. "but… there's still a problem. The bones have to lie flat on the ground. A human skeleton's mostly flat, so that's easy. But a rat or animal skeleton's all—" she waved her hands in a loose motion, "—whoosh and curvy like that. I can't lay that out properly unless it's sideways."

Elria tapped the top of her crystalline head, thinking. "Ah. I see what you mean. Hmm… I can help lift the bones for you. Keeping them suspended shouldn't drain too much power."

"You can do that?" Enya asked, eyes brightening. "Then… what kind of goliath should I make?"

"How about a dragon?" Elria suggested.

"Dragon?" Enya tilted her head. "Well… dragons are really cool—at least in the books I've read. But I don't know how their bodies are shaped. Do they have bones in their wings? What about their tails?" She pointed toward the workbench, where the decapitated remains of the bone-bunny sat in a pitiful heap. Its skull had been used to harvest soul-flames, leaving nothing but a loose pile of bones.

"Last time I made something without knowing the structure, it turned out bad. I don't want an ugly dragon."

Just as she said that, a glowing panel appeared before her eyes.

System Notification: Pell is entering the Sanctum.

He's back already? Enya thought.

A moment later, the air shimmered and the sanctum's portal spun open. Pell stepped through, hood still up, and froze mid-stride. His soul flames flared, reflecting off the towering mound of bones in the room's center.

"What in the hells is going on here?"

Enya blinked, then launched into a casual explanation—how she'd spent her time since they split up: brewing six more batches of Etherbloom Mix ranging from silver C–tier to a single gold B–tier, and planning the skeletal goliath she wanted to build. She even mentioned the issue of not knowing what kind of creature to model it after.

Pell folded his arms. "You must've scared that Jerry guy half to death with all your insane requests."

"Javey," Elria corrected. "The guy's name is Javey. The girl keeps getting it wrong every single time she says it."

That sounds like her, Pell thought dryly.

"Hmm… let me check something."

He opened his system menu and navigated to the marketplace.

Marketplace Search Term: Dragon Bestiary Searching…

The results populated with various compendiums and manuals about dragons. Many of which denoted certain types of dragons and vital information about them, such as skeletal structure, but more importantly, weaknesses, battle strategies, and locations.

"I suspected as much, but these prices…"

He stopped at one of the cheapest listings.

Nature's Beauties: Dragon Edition Seller: Urena Seller Description: This is a book written by renown dragon slayer Kellrix. In this book, he describes the types of dragons that can be found among the Reed Plains on the third layer. In the book, he discusses many of their weaknesses and patterns, including anatomy and most valuable parts to harvest. This is the third edition. Fairly worn. Price: 49 gold, 99 silvers.

Confirm Purchase? [Accept/Decline]

Pell made a low, disgruntled sound.

"This is rubbish," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Enya asked, watching him frown.

He shook his head. "Tried looking for the cheapest book that might have dragon anatomy, but the prices are ludicrous. With the treasure we sold from Felicity, we only have about two hundred and forty gold pieces. It's a lot, but I'm not going to spend nearly a fifth of that on some stupid book."

"Hey—" Elria began, then fell silent as Pell cut her off.

"No—I didn't sell anything needed for your resurrection. I only sold the ornaments and the other trinkets she gave us," Pell interjected.

Elria shrugged. "As long as you know." She tapped a mandible against her chin, thinking, then brightened. "How about wyverns?"

"What?" Pell asked, peering past his marketplace menu.

"Find a book on wyverns. Wyverns are similar to dragons—at least their anatomy should be. Wyverns aren't nearly as rare as dragons."

Pell's soul-flames narrowed. He changed the search term from dragon to wyvern.

New options populated the screen—books and guides, most a fraction of the dragon compendiums' prices. The cheapest ones ran at three gold. It was much more manageable.

It was a lot for a simple book regardless. Paying a single gold for a book was lavish. Normally, he wouldn't even have thought about spending such gold for it. But this wasn't for him. It was for Enya.

He sighed. "Alright. I'll get the book for you."

With a tap to confirm, Pell's gold vanished from within his coin bag—a separate skill he had to hold coins, similar to his inventory, and a book appeared.

Wyverns: A deep-flight into the beasts of the earth. Seller: Pesha Deen Seller Description: This is a book I wrote that contains my findings on earth-element wyverns, which are commonly found along mountain ranges in the second and first layer. This book contains their weaknesses, habitat patterns, mutations, evolutions, and a breakdown of their biology. This is the 1st edition. No refunds.

He handed the book to Enya. "Here. And hey—you're not using those Etherbloom coffees, right? If you aren't, I'd like to sell them."

She looked up from the pages. "Uh, sure. I don't really care about them. You can have all of them."

"In that case, I'll sell all except your best one. Might come in handy later," he said. A few quick taps opened the marketplace menu. He listed each cup after comparing them to similar stamina and productivity boosters—three gold for the weakest brew, eight for the best.

"Why do you want to sell them all of a sudden?" Enya asked absently, already flipping through the wyvern book. The pages were filled with plenty of diagrams. From wing joints to rib structure to tail segments. Wyverns really were like smaller, simpler dragons.

Pell's expression hardened. "I got a lead on Amberdean," he said. "I'm thinking about screwing him over. For that, I'll need a lot of money. I actually came back to see if you could make me something."

"Make what?" Enya asked, glancing up.

"You know—that soul thing. Some kind of cure for your spirit if you fight ghosts or whatever?"

"Soul… soul…" Enya tapped her chin, trying to remember.

Elria clicked her mandibles. "Are you talking about Chilled Soul? The ailment that eats away at your spirit if you linger around specters too long?"

Pell nodded. "Yeah, that. Can you make it? That kind of item sells high. Could be a good way to make coin—maybe even something worth putting in the auction."

Enya and Elria exchanged a look.

"Auction?" Enya echoed.

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