Ciaran tightened his grip on his sword, glaring at the stranger. The man casually leaned against the table, a carefree smile on his face.

“Relax, kid,” the man said with a chuckle. “Name’s Darnell. I’m a merchant. I sell rare and useful stuff, and your little shelter here looks like a perfect spot for my forest shop.”

Ciaran’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t a shop. It’s my shelter.”

Before the tension could escalate, Feyth entered the room, their sharp eyes darting between Ciaran and Darnell. “What’s going on here?”

Darnell’s grin widened. “Are you Charles the Guide?” His tone was teasing but knowing.

Feyth’s expression hardened. “I’m not Charles, But how do you know about the Guides?”

“You look just like another Guide I knew once. Different name, though. Guess you’re all cut from the same cloth. And for your second question let’s just say I’ve been around long enough to pick up a thing or two,” Darnell replied. “Anyway, I’m here to offer my services. The Blood Moon’s coming, and you’re going to need what I’ve got.”

Ciaran didn’t lower his sword. “You just want to take over my shelter. Why should we trust you?”

Feyth raised a hand, stepping between them. “Wait, Ciaran. If he’s a merchant, he might have supplies we can use. Let’s hear him out.”

Ciaran hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “Fine. But if he tries anything…”

Darnell laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Easy there, kid. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Unless it’s throwing weapons—I’m pretty good at that.”

——

After a tense introduction, Darnell set up a small corner in the shelter, unpacking an assortment of goods: flare gun bullets, a miner’s helmet that emitted a soft glow, and an array of tools and accessories.

“See?” Darnell said, gesturing proudly to his wares. “Good stuff. And I’ve got more where that came from. All I ask is a little room to operate and maybe a favor or two if things get hairy.”

Feyth inspected the items, nodding in approval. “This could be useful. We’ll need all the help we can get to prepare for the Blood Moon.”

Ciaran crossed his arms but said nothing. He couldn’t deny the utility of Darnell’s supplies, even if he didn’t fully trust him yet.

After a moment, Ciaran turned to Feyth, his frustration clear. "What about my shelter? Is he just going to take it over?"

Feyth looked at Ciaran thoughtfully. "You’ve already learned how to build a shelter, haven’t you? Build another one. You’ll need the practice, and it’s better to have multiple safe spots in this world."

Ciaran’s eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it, unwilling to openly disagree. "Another shelter?" he thought, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. "Why should I have to build another one just because he moved in?"

Despite his annoyance, Ciaran nodded curtly. He couldn’t argue with Feyth’s reasoning, and deep down, he knew the practice would help him. "Fine," he muttered under his breath, already thinking about where to start his next shelter.

——

Later that day, Feyth gathered Ciaran and Darnell. “We need to venture into the underground layer to gather more materials. The slimes there are tougher than the ones on the surface, and there’s a giant worm that patrols the depths. Stay alert.”

Darnell stretched and adjusted a satchel filled with throwing knives. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good at staying alive.”

Ciaran glanced at him skeptically but focused on Feyth. “Let’s go.”

——

The underground was darker and more oppressive than the caves they had previously explored. The air was thick, and the walls glistened with moisture. Feyth led the way, holding a lit torch, while Darnell walked behind, occasionally tossing a knife into the shadows to scare off smaller creatures.

“There,” Feyth said, pointing to a cluster of yellow ore embedded in the rock. “That’s what we need. Ciaran, start mining.”

As Ciaran swung his pickaxe, the ground beneath them rumbled. Feyth’s expression darkened. “Stay sharp. Something’s coming.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

From the darkness, a red slime appeared, larger and more menacing than the ones on the surface. It was followed by a yellow slime and then a pink one, their gelatinous bodies glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Here we go,” Darnell said, pulling out a handful of knives.

Ciaran tightened his grip on his sword, standing his ground as the slimes closed in.

——

The battle was intense. Darnell’s knives struck with precision, slicing through the slimes. Ciaran dodged a charging red slime and countered with a strong swing of his sword, cutting it in half.

As the last of the slimes was defeated, the ground shook again, more violently this time. Feyth’s torchlight flickered as a massive, segmented worm burst through the cavern wall, its jaws snapping hungrily.

“Giant worm!” Feyth shouted. “Fall back and regroup!”

Ciaran and Darnell scrambled to higher ground as the worm lunged. Darnell hurled a knife at its head, but the weapon bounced off its tough hide. “This thing’s a tank!” he yelled.

Feyth threw Ciaran a bundle of rope. “Use this to trap its segments! It’s vulnerable when it’s stuck!”

Working together, the three of them managed to ensnare the worm in a makeshift trap. Ciaran delivered the final blow, splitting the creature in two.

——

After the battle, they found a small ruin hidden behind the worm’s burrow. The stone walls were weathered and cracked, covered in strange carvings that pulsed faintly with residual magic. Inside, they discovered a golden chest containing an accessory: the Band of Regeneration. The band shimmered faintly, exuding a soft red glow.

“What is this place?” Ciaran asked, his voice echoing softly in the stillness of the ruins.

Feyth’s gaze lingered on the carvings. “These ruins might be remnants of the old world, before Terralune fell into chaos. Places like this often hold clues about what happened, but they’re dangerous to explore.”

Darnell crouched by the chest, inspecting it with a merchant’s curiosity. “Not bad. Ruins like these usually have something valuable, but they can also be traps. Lucky for you, this one seems untouched.”

Ciaran turned his attention to the amulet. “What does it do?”

Feyth picked it up, the glow reflecting in their eyes. “This Band of Regeneration enhances the wearer’s ability to recover from injuries, improving their natural healing rate. It’s useful now, but it can also be upgraded with rare materials to unlock its full potential.”

Darnell whistled. “Nice find. I’d sell it for a fortune, but I’ll let you keep it this time.”

Ciaran rolled his eyes and slipped the Band of Regeneration around his wrist. As it settled against his skin, he felt a faint warmth spreading through his body. He glanced down at his arms and noticed something remarkable—a small scratch from the earlier battle was slowly fading, the skin knitting itself back together.

“It works,” he said simply, his tone tinged with surprise and awe.

Feyth nodded. “Keep it safe. An item like that can make the difference between survival and death.”

Feyth’s gaze lingered on the faded carvings along the walls. “These ruins hold clues about what happened to Terralune. Places like this often hide truths, but we’ll explore more when we’re ready. For now, we need to regroup and prepare for what’s ahead.”

With the Band of Regeneration in hand and materials gathered, they returned to the surface. The journey back was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and distant monster growls. Each step seemed to lighten the tension among the group, their bond as a team beginning to solidify despite their differences.

As they reached the shelter, Ciaran set down his pack and looked at Feyth. "I guess I should start building my new shelter now," he said with a resigned sigh.

Feyth nodded. "It’s good practice. You’ll get better at it, and it’s always safer to have more than one secure location."

Ciaran found a nearby clearing and began pulling materials from his waist bag. He visualized the layout in his mind, and piece by piece, the wooden blocks floated into place. A new foundation took shape, and he worked steadily, the process becoming smoother with each action. Darnell occasionally wandered over, offering unsolicited advice and sarcastic remarks, but Ciaran ignored him, focused on finishing his task.

As night fell, the structure stood complete—a simple yet sturdy shelter, ready for whatever challenges awaited. Ciaran stepped back, surveying his work with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. "It’s not perfect, but it’ll do," he muttered to himself.

Feyth walked over, inspecting the shelter with a nod of approval. "Good job. This will serve you well."

As they gathered around a small fire, Darnell pulled out a wrapped bundle from his pack and handed it to Ciaran. "Here," he said, his usual grin replaced with a rare seriousness. "An iron anvil. Consider it a gift for your shelter earlier. You'll need it to craft better tools and gear."

Ciaran blinked, surprised. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"Think of it as an investment," Darnell said with a shrug. "The better prepared you are, the safer I'll be if we end up working together."

Feyth nodded approvingly. "This will be invaluable for your progress, Ciaran. Keep it safe and put it to good use. Now, we don’t need to make an anvil ourselves. We can start upgrading our weapons and armor right away."

Ciaran held the anvil, feeling its weight. "Thanks," he said, his voice quieter. He placed it in his new shelter, the gift sparking a small sense of hope and determination.

"Now get some rest," Feyth said. "Tomorrow, we prepare for more challenges."

Before settling in, Darnell leaned back and glanced at Ciaran. "By the way, kid," he said with a sly grin, "if you ever find yourself with some gold or silver coins, you can trade them for some of my finer goods."

Ciaran raised an eyebrow. "Coins? Why would you even need coins in a world like this?"

Darnell chuckled. "I’m a merchant. I love coins. Besides, you never know when they might come in handy. Business is business."