With Cara and Orin’s help, Ike carried the monster parts back to the shop and exchanged them for gold. The monster gave fewer gold than the Salamander, but he’d expected that. Walking away with thirty gold in his pockets, he mused over everything he’d learned.

He’d cleaned up the little mantises with Cara, and from that, he’d confirmed that the mana he absorbed directly from killing monsters helped to expand his core, just a little. However, compared to the big mantis, the extent to which the little mantises expanded his core was infinitesimally small. The effect grew smaller the more little mantises they killed, until finally, the mantises no longer gave him any expansion, just a little more mana to fill his core with.

The stronger the monster I hunt, the more powerful I grow afterwards. He engraved those words into his heart. More powerful monsters drop more powerful skills and have a higher chance of dropping a skill orb.

I need to get more powerful, so I can take on the most powerful monsters possible.

Orin’s book hung from his belt, wrapped in an oiled sheet to disguise it. Orin had insisted on that; Cara had complained that it would only draw attention. Not sure which side was right, Ike had simply let it happen. As long as he had the sheet, he could always unwrap the book. If he didn’t have the sheet, he had no option but to display the book.

Besides, I’m not a hundred percent sure the book will stay together if it isn’t wrapped or contained somehow, Ike thought, the overstuffed pages thick with inserts and loose-leaf paper coming to mind.

The claws he wore strapped to his back, likewise bound in a stray piece of leftover fabric and layered against one another to disguise their shape. After his last round with bandits, Ike wasn’t in the mood to take any chances. Even if it was only one piece of a monster, he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

He wandered the streets for a time, looking for something to spend his gold on. Armor still cost far too much, and he now had a book and a weapon—whether it was the axe he’d borrowed from Orin, or the mantis blades on his back. At last, he stopped by an outdoor goods store and emerged with a tent, a pack, trail rations, an oiled leather cape, and a flint and tinder. At the tailor next door, he exchanged his bloodstained rags for a pair of good, thick outdoor trousers, a sturdy cotton shirt. Not one to waste anything, he folded his old ragged clothes up tight and tucked them away in the bottom of his pack. Down the street, he put in an order for leather boots with the cobbler, and walked away with a new belt while he was at it.

None of the gear he bought was fine, but instead sturdy and serviceable. The kind of gear that wouldn’t attract a bandit’s eye, but would last him a long, long time, gods willing. Plenty of hunters strutted around the outpost in silk and fine robes, but Ike couldn’t bring himself to waste money on flashy clothes. I don’t understand it. What’s the fun in wearing clothes that don’t do anything for you? I’d have to change to go outside the wall anyways, so I’d only be inconveniencing myself by buying a nice set of clothes.

By then it was late, so he rested in the tavern. He perused the book by moonlight, taking a longer look at Orin’s notes, especially the early section. The earlier in the book, the younger Orin had encountered the monster, which meant the early part was the most useful to Ike. The lower-level monsters and monsters close to the wall were detailed there.

But no entry for the Salamander. Based on the rarity of its skill, that thing was at least a thousand years old, if not ten thousand, so it should have been around in Orin’s youth, even being generous with Orin’s age. Did it suddenly appear? Find a geyser near the city and settle in? Or did Orin never discover it? It was pretty hidden away, to be fair.

At last, the moon passed too far overhead to shine light in his window. Ike yawned, putting a hand to his mouth, and set the book down. It’s only one man’s journal, after all. Of course there’s going to be missing monsters. Orin was just one hunter, and he wasn’t even trying to chronicle all the monsters outside the wall, just report on the ones he encountered. I should be grateful to have it at all, not pointing out inconsistencies with my knowledge. He laid down in the tavern’s straw mattress and went to sleep.

The next morning, he set off at the crack of dawn, determined to find Silver, arcane instructions be damned. He joined a small group of hunters waiting for the gate to open. At last, with the sun at least ten degrees above the horizon, a guard stumbled over and hauled it open.

“Dawn to dusk,” one female hunter scoffed, spitting in the dirt.

“All in due time, all in due time,” the guard replied, with the supremely unbothered air of someone who’s heard the same complaint a thousand times and won’t get a pay cut no matter how many more thousands of times he hears it.

The gate opened, and the hunters surged out. Ike walked at his own pace, letting the others get ahead of him. Better to be in the back of the pack, than to have someone follow me. The other hunters might recognize this as the path to Silver’s hut and surmise that I’m carrying valuable monster parts. They can’t follow me if I’m behind them.

In a few minutes, he walked alone. Ike turned, checking that he was truly the only one around, then sprinted off, lightning chasing his steps. But now that I’m alone, there’s no time like the present!

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He took the first few turns confidently, then slowed. He looked left and right, searching for a place where someone would lose their boots. Something like a swamp, maybe a lake. Just to be sure, he checked the next direction on the list and the map.

Then, take a left after a hundred paces.

Ike grimaced. Right.

The map, as ever, pointed to the right, and that was it.

He rubbed his forehead. I really hope Orin’s maps aren’t all like this. It’s going to make it very, very hard to find any monsters if they are.

“Can I help you?”

Ike turned.

A hunter stood behind him. He wore layers of dark, ragged clothes, worn boots, and a tattered green cape. Long, shaggy dark hair and a wild beard, touched with grey, finished the look. Here and there, little twigs and leaves stuck out of his wild mane. He stood there, face impassive, eyes hidden behind smoked lenses, and waited for Ike.

I didn’t even hear him. I need to be more aware. Ike cleared his throat. “I’m, er…” He looked at the instructions, then turned to the man. This guy clearly knows the forest. I mean, look at him. He’s practically part of it. He might be able to help me decode the clues. I don’t need to say where I’m going. All I need to do is show him the one instruction I can’t find. That should be safe.

Just to be sure, he checked the man’s hairline, but there was no sign of the telltale silver streak. Not that this guy looks like a smith of any description. He lacked the muscular arms, the barrel-like build, the deep strength. Instead, he was wiry, even more slender than Ike, with a hollowed body, as if someone had scooped out his insides.

Ike leaned in, showing the man just the one line about boots. “Do you have any idea what this might be?”

The man hummed. He leaned back and forth as he read, following the line. “Genii lost his boots…Genii. Hmm.”

Ike tried not to breathe too deeply as the stench of unwashed body washed over him. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the man. “The, uh, the Genii part probably isn’t important. Just…is there somewhere around here where people regularly lose their shoes? A mud flats, maybe, or a swamp?”

The man nodded. “I know where that is.” Without another word, he walked away.

Shutting the book, Ike hurried after him. He fumbled the book back into its wrap and its leather strap on his belt as he walked. “Thank you.”

The man gave no indication he’d heard Ike. He walked ahead, taking long steps. Ike walked along after him, only to find the man pulling away from him. He jogged, then ran. The man still pulled away from him, despite his relaxed posture and walking-pace stride.

“W-wait,” Ike called after him. He paused to catch his breath, bracing himself on his knees. I’m all-out sprinting, and he still pulls away. Do I need to use Lightning Dash to keep up?

The man kept moving, still refusing to acknowledge Ike.

Dammit. I don’t have an option. He isn’t looking at me, anyways. It should be fine. Ike operated Lightning Dash and raced after the man.

Instantly, the man stopped dead. Ike hurtled past the man. Immediately, he stopped using Lightning Dash and lurched to a halt. He didn’t notice, did he?

The man lifted his hand. He pointed at Ike. “There.”

Ike looked down. His feet sunk steadily into thick mud. Even as he stood there, mud glopped into his shoes, instantly soaking his socks and feet. He stumbled back, and yanked his feet right out of his boots.

“See?” the man said blandly.

Scowling, Ike squatted on dry land and fished his boots out of the mud. They squelched out of the thick, dark filth. Couldn’t have mentioned it one second earlier, before my boots were filthy? “Thank y—”

The man dropped to a squat beside him. Ike jumped, startled. Before he could find his balance again, the man gave him a single firm push on the shoulder. Ike flailed, reaching for the man, anything, but couldn’t regain his balance. He fell backward into the mud.

Covered in mud, he sat there, absolutely flabbergasted. “What the hell…? Why?” My good new clothes…

“Now we’re equal. Come. I know a good place to wash off.” The man stood and walked off again.

Ike stared after him. “Fucking—” A dozen more curse words streamed out of his mouth.

“You’re the one choosing to sit in mud, instead of go take a wash,” the man pointed out.

His nose wrinkled. Fury rose up in his chest. What the hell is this madman doing to me? This hobo? He’s—

He’s powerful enough to live out here. Deep breath. Settle. Ike looked at his filthy clothes, then sighed and climbed out of the mud. He shook the worst of it out, dumping it out of his boots. At least they’re my old boots. My new clothes, though.

Standing there, dripping with mud, he stared after the man. Follow? Or do I just go back to the outpost and get a real bath?

A moment later, he sighed and followed the man. Baths cost money, streams don’t. Even if this madman doesn’t show me a good pool to wash in, I can find one if I follow whatever he shows me upstream. It’s better than slogging back to the outpost coated in mud, anyways.

Each step squished as he slogged along, bits of mud falling away behind him. He walked in muddy socks, his boots in hand. The mud hugged bits of him that had no right being held, cold and unpleasant. He watched the man, eyes narrowed. If this was a prank, too, that was it. He was gone.

They didn’t go far. The mud flats gave way to a river. Glancing back at Ike, the man led him a little ways up river to where a waterfall poured into a deep, clear pool. The man gestured. “You first.”

Ike stood at the edge of the pool. He considered undressing, then rolled his eyes. His clothes were as filthy as he was. Pinching his nose, he jumped in.

Cool water closed in over his head. He kicked up, then paused. He turned toward the depths.

Warmth, but warming me from the inside. Mana? There’s mana in this pool?

Ike broke through the surface and tossed his hair out of his face, heaving a breath. Grabbing the stony edge, he kicked. Mud stained the water all around him as it lifted away from his clothes. He heaved himself up and grabbed his boots, dunking them in the water as well. Might as well get it all clean.

Mana flowed up as he kicked his legs. Ike breathed deeply, sucking it in. The mana filled his core at a noticeable rate, far faster than the ambient mana. “Is this a mana source?”

Splash!

Ike looked over his shoulder. The strange man surfaced on the opposite bank, tossing his hair. As the cold water washed through his hair, the dirt lifted free, revealing a silvery streak over his right eye.

Ike’s eyes widened. No way.

The man flicked his wrist. The water began to churn. Ike grabbed the edge, kicking at the bank to climb up, but the water had a firm grip on him and refused to let go. It sucked at his legs and pulled at his wet clothes, dragging him down.

Silver pushed his glasses back on his head, revealing bright yellow eyes, and fixed Ike with a firm stare. “Who are you? Why are you looking for me?”

Ike licked his lips. Oh, fuck.