“It was a potion that could heal all wounds,” Kaiden replied, his tone steady but his nerves prickling under the corporal’s scrutiny. “I was lucky to obtain it, and I don’t have another.”

Kaiden didn’t waste time playing dumb. It was a damn good potion and they both knew it, so he told him. Every word he said was true. He didn’t have another potion on him. Well, not yet. Tomorrow, when the 24-hour cooldown reset, he’d have another. But that wasn’t something Corporal Jenser needed to know.

Jenser studied Kaiden for a moment, his expression unreadable, likely trying to detect any hint of deception, before he sighed in defeat. “So, I made you use something that valuable on me. I’m truly thankful, Private. A potion that powerful… it could easily sell for a small fortune.”

Kaiden’s eyebrows shot up at that. He hadn’t even considered the possibility. Could he really sell these? The thought of it sparked a flicker of greed, a small thrill at the idea of having something so lucrative within his grasp.

But he dismissed the idea immediately. He already knew it didn’t work that way. It’s not like he could produce one potion a day and turn it into a steady income

The moment he summoned the potion, Kaiden had instinctively understood its limitations. It was tied to him, soulbound, a part of him. If he didn’t use the potion within the 30-second window when the stat boost activated, it would vanish and go on a 24-hour cooldown. The artifact wasn’t designed for profit or convenience—it was meant for moments like earlier, when someone’s life hung in the balance. The Potion of All Heal came with the passive ability Deliver the Potion, after all. It existed to ensure the potion got to whoever needed it most, even if Kaiden had to carve through enemy lines to do it.

Kaiden gave a sheepish shrug. “I didn’t realize it was that expensive. But I don’t regret using it. If I hadn’t, we’d all be dead. I couldn’t fight the bandit leader on my own.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Jenser nodded thoughtfully. “I was just surprised, is all. I mean, it looked like you pulled that potion out of thin air. How’d you do that?”

Kaiden forced a weak smile and reached into his pocket, pulling out the storage ring Ashkar had gifted him. He held it up between two fingers. “This,” he said, “was a gift from a very strong dungeon diver. I don’t wear it openly to avoid attracting attention. I know privates usually don’t have things like this, and I didn’t want to deal with questions.”

“Ah, I see.” Jenser’s face relaxed, and he gave a small approving nod. “Well, you’re absolutely right about that. And I’m glad you’ve got it. That ring saved us all today. And don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. My report didn’t mention the potion either—you saved us, after all.”

Kaiden smiled faintly. “I didn’t even need to think twice. We needed it and I’d do it again.”

Inside, though, Kaiden’s thoughts raced. The storage ring had proven to be a good cover for the artifact potion, but it left him wondering: what would Jenser or anyone else for that matter think if they knew the truth about the potion? It really was an incredible artifact.

Kaiden didn’t want to expose the ring, but it felt like the only way to play it off. For now, at least, it seemed to have worked.

"Okay, well keep sharp, and I'll be back to relieve you in a bit. And again, good work today," Jenser said, giving Kaiden a firm nod before heading toward the sleeping area. His steps grew softer as he disappeared into the shadows beyond the glow of the campfire.

Kaiden let out a slow breath, grateful that Jenser hadn’t pried further. Good thing he didn’t ask about the fight, Kaiden thought as his grip tightened briefly around his sword which was kept at the ready. What could I have said? That I was just lucky? That I somehow held my own against a stronger opponent? The truth wasn’t something Kaiden was ready to share—not yet, maybe not ever.

It wasn’t just the bandit leader, though. Kaiden had taken down more than a few of their men without so much as a scratch. Maybe Jenser wasn’t watching closely, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Either way, I won’t have to explain it.

Kaiden shifted his weight from one foot to the other, letting his gaze wander to the edges of the firelight. The darkness pressed in on the camp, dense and impenetrable. The faint rustling of the leaves in the gentle breeze was the only sound accompanying the crackle of the fire. His eyes darted to the flickering shadows, his senses on high alert for any movement.

Time passed slowly, the quiet weight of the night settling over the camp like a blanket. Kaiden’s thoughts wandered back to the fight. I’ve gotten stronger, there’s no doubt about that. But was it enough? He replayed the battle in his mind, each clash, every swing of his sword. The artifact potion had been a lifeline, but his training—or lack of it—was glaringly obvious.

If I want to survive this world, I can’t rely on luck and artifacts alone. I need more. More skills, more strength, more experience.

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Eventually, the sound of footsteps drew his attention. Jenser emerged from the sleeping area, his silhouette outlined against the dim light of the fire.

"Alright, Private. Get some rest; you’ve earned it," Jenser said, clapping Kaiden lightly on the shoulder.

"Yes, Corporal," Kaiden replied, his voice low but steady.

Kaiden trudged to his sleeping spot, his body finally relaxing as he lay down.

Morning came quickly. The first rays of sunlight painted the horizon in hues of orange and gold. Kaiden stirred awake to the sounds of rustling gear and muted conversations as the camp prepared to move. The memory of the fight lingered in his mind, but he pushed it aside.

For now, there was nothing to do but keep moving forward.

BREAK

Oros' ass! Varren Hales cursed inwardly as his guest crossed the room with a predatory smile that sent a chill down his spine. For the second time in a short while, this woman had walked into his office unannounced, radiating an air of smug satisfaction that made his gut twist.

He stood, masking his unease with a polite smile, and extended his hand. “A pleasure, as always, Marigold.”

“You sly old bastard,” Marigold replied, amusement dancing in her hazel eyes as she shook his hand firmly and seated herself across from his desk.

Varren’s inner turmoil churned. What the hell is that supposed to mean? He kept his composure and tilted his head, offering her a quizzical look. “I’m afraid I don’t catch your meaning,” he said aloud, his voice even.

Marigold grinned wider, her demeanor sharp yet disturbingly cheerful, like a cat toying with its prey. She didn’t seem angry—quite the opposite. She exuded the energy of someone who had just encountered a worthy adversary. She was actually... happy?

“Your little pupil,” Marigold said with a tone that implied much and explained little.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Varren replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. He already knew Kaiden had survived; the favor still remained. He also knew Marigold had left to rendezvous with her sister after exiting the dungeon. If that was what this was about, then he wasn’t particularly concerned.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Marigold said, waving his response away like it was a bothersome fly. “Although I am impressed by that.”

“Then what?” Varren asked, his tone calm but his stomach knotting tighter.

Marigold’s grin sharpened. “Don’t play coy with me. Zinnia told me everything.”

Everything? Varren raised a brow, doing his best to appear intrigued rather than alarmed. He legitimately had no idea what she was referring to. Unless... No. Did she find out about the golden hand? His stomach dropped, and a wince almost crossed his face before he smoothed it away.

But Marigold caught it. Of course, she did. Her grin turned triumphant, and she leaned forward, pouncing like a predator that had cornered its prey.

“A-ha,” she said, her voice brimming with satisfaction. “You try to play dumb, but we already know about his capacity to become a Spell Scribe.”

Spell Scribe? Varren’s thoughts raced, confusion and dread swirling together. What in Oros’ name is she talking about? He fought to keep his expression neutral this time, his features unreadable as he sifted through possibilities.

“What Spell Scribe?” Varren asked carefully, keeping his tone casual even as he felt the sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

Marigold scoffed, rolling her eyes as if to say she wasn’t buying the act. “I already told you to drop it. Zinnia found—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her head tilting slightly as she shot him a questioning glance.

“Wait,” she said slowly, her voice colored with disbelief. “You don’t even know about that, do you? I mean, how could you? The boy himself didn’t even know...”

Damn it! Know what? Varren screamed inwardly, though outwardly he remained a picture of calm. His jaw tightened slightly, and his fingers curled against the edge of the desk as he waited for her to spill the rest.

Marigold’s calculating gaze bore into him, as though she were deciding how much more to reveal. “You sly bastard,” she muttered again, this time almost to herself, before shaking her head. “There’s more to it.”

Varren took a few moments to think about her words. It didn’t take a huge leap in logic to figure out what she was implying: Kaiden. Somehow had the qualification to become a Spell Scribe. The Perennial Petal wanted that. This was huge news in itself. There haven’t been Spell Scribes in hundreds of years and somehow Kaiden could become one?

Then it clicked. That’s it! That’s why he has the golden hand. The lost magics! This is incredible.

Varren worked hard to keep his expression as impassive as stone, betraying none of the revelation coursing through his mind. Hales, keep it together, he reminded himself, while the significance of the golden hand and the connection to the lost magics burned in his thoughts. This was beyond anything he could have anticipated.

Marigold’s expression was expectant, waiting for him to slip, to give something away.

Varren locked eyes with her, his expression unwavering. “Of course, I knew about the Spell Scribe,” he replied smoothly, lying through his teeth.

Marigold leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll buy his contract right now for five times what it’s worth.”

Varren kept his face neutral, his tone calm. “I can’t do that.”

Marigold’s gaze sharpened. “I’ll go over your head if I have to.”

Varren shook his head, his voice steady. “No, you won’t.”

Marigold scoffed, frustration flashing across her face. “You’re just a Sergeant Major. I should be speaking with an officer. Should I just take this to Dedrim or Eryndor directly?”

Varren shrugged, his demeanor calm, almost dismissive. “Straight to the generals? Dedrim doesn’t meddle in my affairs, and you know he’d take my side anyway. And as for Thorne? He doesn’t know. But if someone happened to tell him, do you really think he’d let Kaiden go?”

Marigold’s composure slipped, and she cursed under her breath. “So you’d run off to the general? Well, aren’t you quite the loyal dog,” she snapped, irritation lacing her tone.

Varren let the jab roll off him, remaining silent for a moment, his face serious and unreadable. Of course, Thorne didn’t know, and Varren planned to keep it that way. But Marigold didn’t need to know that. She only needed to believe otherwise. The very thought of Eryndor Thorne gaining access to the lost magics made Varren’s skin crawl. He knew better than most just how cruel and dangerous the man could be. If Thorne found out, it wouldn’t just be bad for Kaiden—it would be disastrous for everyone.

Finally, he broke the silence, his tone deliberate and measured. “Instead, we may be able to work something out.”

“I’m listening.”