Hank guided the Overload Juggernaut through the market at a crawl, his eyes scanning the stalls for Raymond's Beast Emporium.
"There!" He jabbed a finger toward a modest tent ahead. A hand-painted sign hung crookedly from the awning, its rough lettering declaring: Raymond's Beast Emporium.
The setup was sparse—just a peaked canvas shelter with a rickety table and a few oversized crates. Behind the table, an old man dozed, his head pillowed on his arms. Time had etched deep lines into his leathery face, and his hunched shoulders spoke of decades bending over beast hides and ledgers.
Hank swung down from the Overload Juggernaut and strode up to the table. Without hesitation, he hammered it three times with his knuckles.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The man jerked awake, blinking rheumy eyes upward.
"Well, well, if it isn't Hank," the old man grumbled, his voice rough from sleep. "You couldn't give an old man a moment of peace, could you?" He slowly pushed himself upright, the joints in his back creaking in protest.
"Wakey-wakey, old man." Hank grinned. "Got business for you."
The old man's eyebrows shot up as he eyed the nine bloodveil bags strapped to the Overload Juggernaut. "So many?" he wheezed, scratching his stubble. "Didn't expect you actually pulled it off. The boss was worried for a bit there."
Hank and Ryan started unloading the bloodveil bags, while the old man shuffled out from behind the stall, dragging a large crate with him. He upended a large bloodveil bag, spilling two Megaceph carcasses onto the ground. The bulbous heads thudded dully against each other.
Looking up at Hank, he asked, "You guys made it to the Silverstone Hills?"
Hank nodded.
"Yeah, Silverstone Hills is definitely safer than most places," the old man muttered, grunting as he heaved the two Megaceph carcasses into the large crate. Though his movements were slow and laborious, they still had a practiced ease to them.
Hank stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. "Let me do it."
With two quick motions, he emptied four more Megaceph bodies from large bags into the large crate, filling it near to bursting. The swollen heads lolled against each other like drunken boulders.
The old man nodded with satisfaction as he glanced at the nearly packed crate, then closed the lid. "While you're at it, push it into the tent."
Hank obliged without comment, grabbed the large crate, and easily pushed it toward the tent.
Ryan observed quietly. The old man was strong for his age, sure, but nowhere near the enhancer strength he'd seen.
"Pardon my asking," he ventured, "but how're you getting these back to the emporium later?"
The old man shot Ryan a look. "Don't worry about it.When the gates open, the boss will send someone to collect.I just tally the haul."
He flipped open a leather-bound ledger, the pages crackling like dry leaves. "Megacephs... 20 silvers apiece, half-price buy rate. Six total. We'll settle up later."
He spoke as his knobby finger trailed down the page, the quill scratching out figures beside it.
Hank pulled out two empty large crates from the tent and dragged them in front of the old man. The old man gave them a quick glance, nodded approvingly, and then reached for the medium bloodveil bags.
But Hank stopped him with a grin. "Hold up."
The old man raised an eyebrow, looking confused. "What's this about?"
Hank gave him a smug smile, speaking in a low, mysterious tone. "The medium bags have a little surprise."
The old man eyed the three medium bags with suspicion, unimpressed by Hank's theatrics.
With a grunt, he picked up one of the small bloodveil bags, ripped it open, and dumped it out. A few bodies, their spines covered in sharp, bone-like quills, tumbled heavily to the ground, the quills clinking loudly against the stone floor.
"Oh, Gloomquill. Not bad."The old man remarked with a quick glance, his expression still unbothered. There was no trace of surprise in his face, just calm indifference.
He quickly opened his ledger again and noted the haul with the same bored tone one might use for a grocery list. "Gloomquill, 30 silver each... seven total."
The old man kept that look of nonchalance, as if no matter how rare the catch was, to him, it was just another set of numbers in a ledger.
Hank grinned, slapping his chest. "I'll handle the packing. You just take care of the counting and the records."
The old man gave a satisfied nod, clearly pleased with the arrangement. He settled behind the weathered desk,placing the ledger down, ready to start writing.
Hank moved quickly, opening the bloodveil bags one by one. Aside from the two medium ones with the Obsidian Armored Ape and the Shadowrendbeast, he emptied out the rest of the bodies. They tumbled to the ground, covered in a thin layer of dust, making a dull thud as they hit the stone floor.
The old man carefully counted the bodies, noting their species and numbers, his pen flying across the pages of the ledger. "Rock Spider, five... Rocktail Snake, three... Burrow Fox, two..."
While the old man tallied, Hank kept busy, heaving the counted carcasses into the large crates.
Soon, another crate was filled, leaving just two medium bags.
The old man looked at Hank, seemingly waiting for the "surprise" he'd mentioned.
Hank gave the bags a quick feel, confirming their contents. He opened the one with the Obsidian Armored Ape first. The heavy body slid out, hitting the ground with a muffled thud.
The old man snorted, clearly unimpressed by Hank's theatrics. "Hmph, what's so mysterious about that?"
The old man scratched the figures into his ledger without looking up. "One Obsidian Armored Ape, 1 gold. Buy rate—50 silver." His quill paused as he jerked his chin at Hank. "Well? Get on with it."
"Alright, now check this out," Hank said with a grin, then yanked open the last bag.
The Shadowrendbeast's massive body rolled out with a heavy thud. Both arms were cleanly severed at the shoulders, leaving jagged, oozing stumps, dark crimson blood still seeping from the wounds.
No gasp, no widened eyes. The old man just took a quiet step forward, his expression unreadable as he crouched to examine the beast.
He ran his fingers across the insectile head, brow furrowing. "What the hell is this…?"
Hank's grin faltered. This wasn't the reaction he'd banked on. He crouched, rummaged in the bag, and pulled out the Shadowrendbeast's severed limbs—two arms like massive scythes, sharp and wicked-looking.
The moment the old man saw them, everything changed. His eyes went wide, the calm drained from his face.
He all but snatched the scythes from Hank, carefully placing them against the beast's stump joints. The fit was seamless.
"Shadowrendbeast!" he exclaimed, voice cracking with disbelief. "Gods above…"
Hank burst out laughing, full of pride. Now that was the reaction he'd been waiting for.