Symon wasn't a squeamish guy, even back on Earth. Early on in his paramedic course, one of his first classes had a dissection of a human cadaver, designed to weed out those with a weak stomach. Then, he'd seen some pretty rough things as a trainee going on ride-a-longs in the ambulance. The motorcycle accidents in particular had a tendency to spread their victims across a wide area.
It had been too much for many people, but not Symon. The world could be a dark, horrible place, but when he'd recovered from his illness against all expectations, he knew it was his duty to make things better, to save those in need no matter how grim things could appear.
Symon found it a little challenging to maintain this positive philosophy while both his thumbs were rooting around inside the brains of a fish.
"Ugh, this is disgusting. You're sure the mana core is inside its head?" he asked.
He probably should have waited for morning to do this, but they were both too curious to sleep. The flickering torch provided just enough light to ensure his workspace was covered in shadows, so he was operating almost entirely off of touch. The razor stalker's core had been the size of a marble, so the comparatively tiny fish must have had a similarly small core, presuming it even had one.
With a wet squelch, part of the fish's brain matter slipped out of its skull and landed on the sandy dirt. Immediately, the faintly glowing horn went dark.
"Oh goddamnit," he mumbled to himself before getting down on one knee and pawing around in the darkness. After a few seconds of half-blind searching, he felt something wet and scooped up the piece of brain, which had now collected a healthy coating of sandy dirt and dead grass.
"And to think I could have just gone to sleep," he said wistfully as he stared at the clump of fish innards in his hand, holding it up to his torch for a better view.
"What do you think I'm doing, you old bastard!" he hissed out in response. He usually just ignored Keelgrave's little remarks, but the experience was annoying enough even without him. Symon slowly picked off pieces of the brain, checking them for anything odd before discarding them. Like this, he slowly shrank down the potential hiding places until he eventually felt something new.
Quickly digging through the remaining mess, he pulled out what could only be the mana core. It was tiny, less than a quarter the size of his fingernail, and felt like a little glass marble. Being extra careful to ensure the current didn't pull it from between his fingers, he washed all the grime off in the small creek. The revealed core was a blue colour, but he'd have to wait for the suns to come out to get a proper look at it. Torchlight could only go so far.
"Our lucky day, I suppose. They're valuable, right? How much do you think one of these is worth?" he thought towards Keelgrave. Something that he could easily trade for a meal and bed would be perfect.
"Supply and demand, right. But how much do you think I can get for one?" he asked again.
It was equivalent to less than a hundred dollars, but that was pretty good for how much time he'd had to put in. He felt a little bad accepting all the food and clothing from the adventurers, so he'd been looking to pay them back for it. This would go a long way to easing his conscience. After washing his hands as thoroughly as he could with just water, he put the core in his pocket and began heading back to camp.
With a sigh, Symon turned back to the dead fish.
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The next day, Symon was in a good mood. He had a half dozen of the tiny cores in his pocket — they likely weren't worth much, but he was confident he could get some better clothes and a decent meal with them. Proper armour was currently out of his budget, but he'd take anything that wasn't shredded and partially blood soaked.
He'd tried to give some of them to Aslan as a thanks for all the sword practice as well as the various items he'd been gifted, namely clothing, a tent, a bedroll, and a sword, but Aslan had staunchly refused the thank you gifts.
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"All spoils of our hunts will be gifted to our elders when we return," he had said. "It would be improper to pass off your kill as my own. Keep it, and spend or save it as you please."
It made sense, Symon supposed. The Dumosans were essentially adventuring out as a test to prove that they could personally kill a dangerous monster, not that they could trade or otherwise get gifted a valuable trophy. Not that the mana cores Symon had harvested were particularly valuable, but it was more the principle of the matter.
The fact that Symon had a little more cash jingling in his pocket than he otherwise could have wasn't the only reason for his good mood. They'd just recently spotted a landmark that the adventurers were familiar with; a tree, poking up out of the grass. Trees were rare but not unique out in the grass sea, but this one was easily recognised by the others due to its distinctive Y shape.
The tree itself was nothing special, but it represented good news. They were closer to the village than they'd thought. Originally, they'd expected to arrive shortly before nightfall, but it was looking like they'd make it closer to noon. Plus, the excitement at the prospect of getting to have a proper bath and sleep in a real bed meant everyone was marching extra hard.
At first, Symon had tried to drain the fish of vitality by walking along the banks of the stream, but it was too difficult to match his pace with one while simultaneously ensuring he drained the grass at a reasonable pace. Shortly after, they adjusted their heading slightly, breaking off from the waterway to cut a more direct route to the village.
As Symon drained his way through the grass, he noticed that their march had slowly turned into more of a hike. They ground was slowly sloping upwards, as if they'd been in the center of a giant bowl. Off in the distance this elevation became more and more extreme, to the point where he wasn't sure if they'd even be able to pass over the mountains that jutted up out of the ground like teeth. For mountains, they weren't especially tall, but that was like saying Atabek wasn't an especially tall giant. The others must have managed to pass them somehow, but he hoped there was a convenient valley so they wouldn't have to climb over them. Even with the vitality keeping his muscles going, marching non-stop wasn't fun.
Luckily for Symon's thighs and calves, he wouldn't have to climb over any mountains. There was indeed a narrow passage between two mountains that they were aiming for, of which they reached the entrance of only a few hours into their journey.
The whole group had fanned out slightly, looking down the valley. Normally, they were forced to march in a single file line due to needing to carve a path through the grass, but this was no longer a problem. The sandy dirty quickly transitioned into a gravel and stone texture that prevented more than the occasional scraggly shrub from surviving.
Peering into the valley, he didn't see much of interest. It was around a hundred metres wide, but narrowed considerably at certain points. It was mostly straight, but twisted enough that he was unable to tell how far it extended by sight alone. He'd already been told it would take a few hours of walking to make it through, though.
Symon found the whole thing... empty. The mountains where impressive and he was sure they would offer a great view, but the valley itself was just grey stone and tiny shrubs. It was almost suspiciously empty, just like the lake they'd encountered previously. Wouldn't any creatures in the area also pass through the valley?
Fortunately for Symon and the rest of the group, he wasn't the designated scout. When he noticed he'd walked slightly ahead of his friends, he turned back and noticed Safiya down on one knee, staring intently at a patch of gravel.
"What did she find?" he asked as he approached the group.
"Tracks of some type," Aslan answered. "She's investigating further."
Symon looked back over his shoulder, deeper into the valley. There was still nothing there. He tried to look at the patch of gravel that Safiya was staring at, but it just looked like, well, a patch of gravel. He elected to stand guard and wait for Safiya to work her magic — not literally, he thought.
"Wait a second," he said towards Keelgrave. "How come I haven't seen them do anything magic? They have mana, right?"
"What do you mean? I know why I can't sense it, but what magic have they done?" Symon asked. His own healing was obviously magic, even to an outside observer, but he hadn't noticed anything magical about his friends beyond their Ledger enhanced stats.
"Oh... I never noticed. I thought Safiya was just fast because her stats were so much higher than mine."
That explained a lot, actually. Her lack of an eye certainly hadn't seemed to diminish her in any way, but he'd assumed she'd just adapted to it. Keelgrave's explanation made a lot of sense. Although... "How can you even tell what skills they have?" Symon looked back at Safiya, who was herself still staring at the patch of gravel at her feet. Was she doing magic right now? If she was, there wasn't any indication. Her eyes weren't glowing any strange colours, there were no mystical sparkles in the air... she just looked like a young woman staring at the ground. She pushed herself up from a kneeling position, pointing a finger at the spot she'd investigated before pointing that same finger deeper into the valley. "Monsters. Small. Many," she said, her accent strong enough that it took Symon a moment to realise she'd been speaking Common. With a final glance at the spot she'd initially investigated, he once again didn't notice anything, Symon wondered how she'd managed to find all that out.