20. Chapter 20 The Return
The south gate guard took one look at us and stepped aside without a word.
We probably looked like hell. We’d spent two days underground, ash on our clothes, Bjorna’s breastplate scored with claw marks, my stonethread robe torn open in three parallel rips down the left side.
Sif’s daggers were still streaked with something dark.
Liv’s quiver was half empty. Nott had her cloak pulled around her like she was holding herself together through sheer academic discipline.
Nobody talked on the walk through town. The streets of Halver’s Reach looked different after The Splits, smaller and brighter and impossibly quiet. The smithy came into view first and the familiar staircase to the apartment.
Bjorna unlocked it. The apartment was exactly how we’d left it, the coal-pot cold in the corner, the trestle table clean. Liv’s blanket was still folded on the bench under the east window.
“Home,” Liv said. She dropped her quiver by the door and went straight to the bench.
“Gear off,” Bjorna said. “Then we sort.”
“We’re sorting right now?” I said. “We just killed a succubus boss.”
“Yes.”
“I fought a twelve-foot demon lady who told me she wanted my face between her legs and you want to do inventory?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sif.
“Don’t look at me,” Sif said. “I want to see what that demon bitch dropped.”
The rings of holding emptied onto the trestle table.
Bjorna’s first, then Sif’s, then Nott’s and Liv’s.
I took out the little bit of loot I picked up.
We’d grabbed loot across eight depths without sorting, everything into whatever ring was closest, and now it all came out in a pile that covered half the table.
Coins came first, gold and silver in heavy stacks that spread across the wood.
Crystals followed, deep red and pulsing with a faint heat, ranging from small eggs to my fist. The materials came next.
Demon hide sat in thick rolls, dark red and smelling like sulfur.
Fire snake scales lay in bundles, iridescent in the lamplight.
Slime residue filled sealed glass vials that Nott had stoppered herself at Depth 7.
Dark stone fragments scattered across the remaining surface. And then the equipment drops appeared.
Five pieces of enchanted gear sat in a line at the edge of the spread, separate from the raw materials.
Nott was sorting crystals, holding each one up to the lamplight and turning it, same as she always did. She’d barely spoken on the walk home, but the second the materials hit the table her hands were moving fast and her eyes were sharp.
“Fire-aligned crystals. Higher quality than anything we’ve pulled from Cold Hollow.
The mana density there concentrated the output.
” She held up a crystal the size of a small plum, deep red with an interior glow that pulsed like a heartbeat.
“Enchanters use these for weapons-grade fire enchantments, forge work, and high-end thermal wards. I’d estimate triple the value of Cold Hollow’s standard drops. ”
“Triple,” I said. “Per crystal?”
“Per crystal. And we have tons of them.”
“I just got aroused,” Sif said.
“We’re not doing this already,” Bjorna said.
“We’re absolutely doing this already. Dozens of crystals at triple value? That’s foreplay, Bjorna.”
Bjorna ignored her and started counting coin. Her hands were fast, separating gold from silver from copper with her usual steady precision.
Nott moved through the demon hides and fire snake scales. She cataloged each bundle with visible pleasure, her fingers testing the hide quality, her voice picking up the rhythm it got when she was in her element.
“The demon hide is exceptional. Dense, heat-resistant, and it takes enchantment well. Any armorer in the Reach would bid on this. The fire snake scales are more specialized. Alchemists use them as a base for fire-resistance compounds, and leatherworkers inlay them for decorative armor.”
“Decorative armor,” Sif said. “Like a bodice with little scales on it.”
“Like tactical reinforcement panels.”
“I was picturing something sexier.”
“You always are,” Nott said. She fought a smile. “The slime residue is the real surprise. Red slimes are rare enough that the alchemical applications aren’t well documented, but the base compounds are valuable to anyone doing experimental work. I’d sell these through a specialist.”
“Listen to you,” I said. “You’re in your element right now. Your whole face changes when you’re doing this.”
Nott’s cheeks went pink. “I’m appraising materials, Daniel. It’s not a personality shift.”
“It absolutely is,” Sif said. “You get this look. Like a wolf who just found a wounded deer.”
“That’s your species, not mine.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Liv sat up on the bench. “Can we get to the good stuff? I want to see the equipment drops.”
“Patience,” Bjorna said without looking up from the coin.
“I’ve been patient for two days underground. I want to see the shiny things.”
Bjorna finished her last stack and sat back. “The coin alone puts us at twenty gold per head before materials. This is a substantial haul so far.”
“How substantial?” Sif asked.
“Substantial.” Bjorna looked at the equipment drops. “Nott. Walk us through them.”
Nott reached for the first item. It was a sword.
A claymore, to be specific, longer and heavier than Bjorna’s longsword by a significant margin.
The blade was dark metal with a faint blue-gray sheen, and the hilt was wrapped in something that looked like cured demon hide.
Nott held it in both hands and her arms dropped under the weight.
“This is boss-tier,” she said. “High durability, passive strength and endurance enhancement. It’s sized for a large wielder.”
She held it out toward Bjorna with both shaky hands. The sword was a heavy one.
Bjorna took it with one hand. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt and the weight settled into her grip. She lifted the blade and turned it, examining the edge, the balance, how it cut through the air. The lamplight caught the dark metal and threw long shadows across the table.
I looked at her. Eight feet of bear-kin woman holding a claymore that fit her frame. The longsword had always looked a little small in her hands, and this one didn’t.
“Bjorna, you look like a painting right now,” I said. “A gorgeous, terrifying painting that I would hang in every room of this apartment.”
“Hush.” But she was still turning the blade. Her eyes hadn’t left it.
“She’s in love,” Sif said. “Look at her face. Bjorna, we’ve lost you.”
“I am assessing the weapon.”
“You’re gazing at it. You’ve been gazing at it for thirty seconds. You’re in love with a sword.”
“It’s a claymore.” Bjorna lowered the blade and rested it across the table. Her hand stayed on the hilt. “This replaces the longsword.”
“With that thing in your hand, you could solo the next boss,” Liv said from the bench.
“I will not be soloing anything. We are a party.”
“But you could.”
“Moving on,” Bjorna said. Her hand slid off the hilt slowly.
Nott picked up the second item. An amulet on a fine chain, dark metal with a set stone that pulsed with a pale blue interior light. She held it up and went still. Her lips moved, the same silent reading she did with unfamiliar materials. When she opened her eyes, her expression had changed.
“Intelligence enhancement,” she said. “And a secondary lightning boost. This directly amplifies spellcasting output, particularly electrical.”
“That’s yours,” Bjorna said.
“I know,” Nott whispered. She put it on. The chain settled against her collarbone and the stone rested at the base of her throat, pulsing faintly. She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them the careful composure was cracking.
“Nott,” I said, “you earned that. You soloed the big slime. You were our primary damage dealer for an entire depth. That amulet is exactly where it should be.”
“I do the best I can with what I have.”
“And now you have a lightning-boosted amulet to go with it. Verath called you a decoration. I’d like to see her say that now.”
Nott touched the stone at her throat. “She wouldn’t have the opportunity. I’d kill her faster.”
Sif clapped her hands together. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”
“It was a tactical assessment.”
“Even hotter.”
“Next,” Bjorna said.
The third item was a pair of bracers, light leather with a metal reinforcement across the back of the hand. They were slim and close-fitting, built for someone who needed to move without restriction.
“Defensive enhancement,” Nott said. “No movement penalty. Scout-grade.”
Bjorna slid them across the table to Liv.
Liv was off the bench and at the table before they stopped moving. She picked them up and strapped them on, one and then the other, fast and practiced, the buckles clicking into place. She held her arms out and turned them, admiring the fit.
“How do they look?”
“They look great,” I said.
“Do they make my arms look good?”
“Your arms already looked good.”
“But do they look better?” She flexed. The bracers caught the lamplight. “Daniel. Focus. Better or the same?”
“Better. Definitely better. You look incredible.”
“Liv finally has some decent armor,” Sif said. “I was starting to worry about you out there with nothing but a quiver and a prayer.”
“I had Daniel.”
“Daniel can’t stop an arrow with his face.”
“He’d try, though,” Liv said. She was still admiring the bracers. “He’d absolutely try.”
“Can we not talk about me stopping arrows with my face?” I said. “A face that still has dried succubus wetness on it.”
“Gross.” Liv gagged. “I can’t believe she just flicked it at you like that.”
“I was certainly not expecting it, nor the burning sensation.”
“Liv’s cum doesn’t burn?” Sif asked.
Liv leaned forward. “Of course it doesn’t, bitch. My cum is sweet and soothing to the touch.”
Sif shifted her attention toward me. “Is her cum like that?”
“No comment. Can we please get back to the loot?”