"Buddy, we made a killing."
This was the first thing Hank said after Leon's figure disappeared from sight.
Ryan eyed him skeptically. "You call handing Leon three gold 'make a killing'?"
Hank barked a laugh. "Just that rare Shadowrend Beast alone is worth three gold."
"Then why the hell did you haggle like your purse was bleeding?" Ryan arched an eyebrow.
A sly grin crept across Hank's face. "No performance, no discount."
So the "honest oaf" act was just that—an act. Ryan filed the revelation away.
Hank squinted at the sun. "Let's head back to the collection point."
Ryan and Hank mounted their beast for the return journey, the Overload Juggernaut's steps sinking deeper under the weight of the bloodveil bags.
Along the way, they passed several other cadets still in the trial. When the cadets saw their bags full, they couldn't help but look at them in surprise.
After a bit of traveling, they successfully crossed the rolling Silverstone Hills, followed a winding path through thick underbrush, and finally entered the vast desert dunes.
"Finally back," Ryan said, his voice filled with relief as he gazed at the towering city walls that were slowly coming into view.
Ahead, a freight dray groaned behind an Overload Juggernaut, flanked by two Wild Huntguard on Benthior mounts. Inside the freight dray, piles of Wild Beast carcasses were stacked high.
As they passed the freight dray, Hank glanced over at it and muttered, "That's Thunder Hunt's. Didn't expect them to be back so soon, fully loaded. Should've gotten one of those myself."
Ryan shot him a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth quirking up."Funny, you weren't saying that before we left. Back then, you thought there was no need for a cart at all."
Bantering along, Ryan and Hank arrived at the collection point near the city gates without realizing it. The bustling scene around them came into view - in the military zone, City Guards were systematically unloading various wild beast carcasses from a freight dray with orderly efficiency.
On the right platform—the trade zone—some traders began making their way toward the military zone, their heels clicking sharply against the dusty ground.
Their eyes were fixed on the carcasses being unloaded, hands instinctively rubbing together in anticipation. Once the guards finished their work, a fierce scramble would ensue—each trader ready to pounce at the first opportunity.
Hank glanced at the insignia on the unloading freight dray. "Blaze Hunt's. So they were the first back."
The mention of Blaze Hunt made Ryan's thoughts immediately turn to Natasha, her image flashing in his mind. His heart skipped a beat, a sudden flutter of something unfamiliar stirring inside him.
What the hell's going on with me?
The echo of his racing heartbeat hadn't fully faded when Ryan glanced around—only to see Hank already steering the Overload Juggernaut straight toward the trade zone.
Past the iron-barred perimeter, the stone ramp rose steadily toward the half-field-sized, stone-paved platform, where the din of commerce clashed against the military zone's rigid order.
Here, a seething river of bodies surged—hunters, mercenaries, traders, and noble stewards all blending into the chaotic scene.
Every stall was its own battlefield—hastily assembled not to sell, but to buy. The traders, like predators in a feeding frenzy, snapped up wild trophies and rare materials with the cold precision of surgeons.
Keen-eyed vendors examined each prize with practiced scrutiny—beast carcasses, scales, bones, and now and then, the soft glimmer of a Lumin Core caught the light like a secret waiting to be claimed. Their barked offers carried the unmistakable tone of seasoned sharpness—business here was fast, fierce, and unforgiving.
Sunlight filtered through the high-hung canopies above, casting shifting patterns across the ground—patches of light and shadow that trembled with the movement of the crowd. The air was thick with dust and the musky reek of wild beasts, heavy enough to make one hold their breath.
Not far off, several live-captured beasts were chained to iron stakes, muscles rippling beneath blood-matted fur as they snarled and thrashed against their restraints. The wildness hadn't left them. Traders circled the creatures like vultures, studying size, wounds, and temperament, voices already rising in sharp negotiations with the mercenaries who brought them in. The guttural cries of the beasts blended with the roar of the marketplace, filling the zone with a savage kind of music.
Ryan's gaze swept over it all, taking in the scene like a layered painting—prey and predator, cores and coin, every detail thrumming with raw, urgent life. And through it all, the Overload Juggernaut rolled steadily forward beneath him and Hank, dragging this chaotic tableau ever closer into view.