Lexel took a full sip from the health potion before flinging the empty vial against the nearby wall.
Clink—crash.
Glass shattered, the sound echoing briefly before being swallowed by the oppressive silence of the tunnel.
Warmth lingered in his veins—not a miracle, just enough to coax his body along. Bruised muscles relaxed. Torn skin knit faster than it should have, aided by his unnaturally high endurance.
Still tastes like regret, he thought, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He yawned, stretching his arms high above his head as he walked side by side with Anthierin, their boots crunching softly against the damp stone floor.
"Rin."
"Huh?" Anthierin raised a brow, glancing sideways at him. The torchlight cast dancing shadows across her soot-stained face.
"That lass... Cresty," Lexel said, scratching his chin. "She said something about Monster Cores back there. Before we split up."
Anthierin sighed.
She gave him a long look—shirtless, scarred, effortlessly dangerous, and painfully ignorant—before resuming her pace.
"Monster Cores," she said, her voice echoing softly, "are crystallized remnants of a monster's traits. Not the body. Not the flesh. It's what defines them."
"Traits?" Lexel asked.
"Yes. Venom. Reinforcement. Regeneration. Aggression. Whatever the monster is known for," she explained, waving a hand lightly in the air. "They can be embedded into many things. Weapons. Armor. Accessories. Even tools, if you're insane enough."
"Anything?" Lexel asked.
"Anything that can withstand it," Anthierin corrected. "You don't make a sword from a Core. You add it to a weapon. Like grafting a second nature onto steel. If you put a Fire Core into a sword, the sword burns. If you put a Hardening Core into armor, the armor becomes denser."
Lexel hummed. "Sounds expensive."
"To a degree," Anthierin replied. "Cores are tiered. Not all of them are worth losing sleep over."
"Tier... like what?" Lexel asked.
"Like ores," she said. "Green, Red, Gold, Prismatic. But don't confuse color with rarity alone."
She held up a finger.
"A Green Core holds one trait. Usually something simple, like 'Sharpness' or 'Minor Stamina'. Red holds two. Gold holds three."
Lexel nodded slowly.
"And Prismatic?" he asked.
"Five traits," Anthierin said, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Perfect compatibility. It doesn't mean it's the strongest in raw power—but when embedded correctly, it's terrifying. It adapts to the user."
Lexel blinked.
"...So even weak monsters—"
"Can drop Prismatic Cores," she finished. "Any monster can. Even the weakest slime. It's just rare. One in a million."
He exhaled.
That's not comforting. That's worse.
He walked a few steps in silence, processing the Gacha logic of this world.
"...So hypothetically," he said carefully, "if someone wiped out a whole bunch of monsters—"
"Yes," Anthierin replied instantly.
"—they might've dropped Cores?"
"Yes."
"And if that someone didn't collect them—"
"They're gone."
Lexel stopped walking.
"...Didn't I just commit genocide back there?"
"Yes."
"...And those monsters—"
"Dropped Cores."
Lexel's eye twitched.
"And Cresty's men—"
"Took almost all of them."
Silence stretched in the dark tunnel. The realization settled on Lexel's shoulders heavier than any armor. He had just handed over a fortune in potential upgrades to the people who had mocked him.
"...Those bastards," Lexel muttered.
Then his expression tightened. A darker thought struck him.
"...Wait."
Anthierin slowed, sensing the shift in his mood.
"The Dark Mantis," Lexel said.
She stiffened slightly.
"I killed it," he continued, staring into the abyss of the tunnel. "Boss Monster."
"...Yes."
"Does it drop a Core?"
"...Not guaranteed," Anthierin admitted. "Boss monsters aren't obligated to drop Cores every time."
Lexel clenched his jaw.
"But if it did—"
"It would've carried multiple traits," she finished. "Probably a Red or a Gold."
Lexel dragged a hand through his hair, gripping the strands in frustration.
"That motherf— Flinn!," he snarled. "That thief definitely left that part out. Or maybe Teddy swiped it."
Anthierin smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "He never said he looted it."
"...That somehow makes it worse. It means it might still be rotting in the mud."
"But," she added, reaching into her pouch, "I didn't exactly follow Ranger etiquette."
She opened her palm.
A dull green sphere rested there—perfectly round, heavy for its size, about as big as a child's palm. It glowed faintly, pulsating like a dying ember.
"I got one."
Lexel leaned closer, inspecting the object.
A Monster Core… It looks like a giant marble.
"You swiped it?"
"Three," she corrected, closing her fingers over the prize. "This one's the cleanest. A simple Tier I, but it's ours."
Lexel grinned. The frustration evaporated, replaced by approval.
"...You're getting a raise."
"You don't pay me."
"I will," he said. "Eventually."
*Shriek!
The sound tore through the tunnel, shattering the moment.
It wasn't the deep roar of a boss; it was high-pitched, scraping, and frantic. Rushed footfalls echoed on the stone—dozens of them. Hunger sharpened into noise.
Lexel and Anthierin turned.
From the darkness ahead, eyes emerged. Not the large, confident red eyes of the boars they had fought earlier. These were smaller, twitchier.
A pack of Rot-Tusk Runts surged into the dim light. They were the size of large dogs, lean and mangy, with tusks that curved inward like hooks. They were bottom feeders, opportunists drawn by the smell of intruders.
[Rot-Tusk Runts] [Level: 11]
"More pigs," Lexel muttered.
He turned and faced the horde as he walked 'calmly' at the approaching monsters. His walk wasn't the heroic march of a knight; it was the stomping gait of a man who had just realized his paycheck was stolen.
"Lexel, mind your weapons!" Anthierin shouted, seeing him clench his fists. "Your gauntlets are dust!"
He stepped forward.
Then—
Rip.
The leather straps came undone.
His gauntlets—or what was left of the iron scraps clinging to his wrists—dropped to the stone floor with a dull clang.
Bare hands flexed. The knuckles were scarred, the skin rough.
"No gloves," Lexel said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "And I'm rather pissed."
"I said mind—! I didn't mean to throw them away!" Anthierin snapped, frantically scooping up the discarded iron. "You're fighting a horde! Barehanded! You'll get infected!"
Lexel didn't listen. He grinned, a savage expression that matched the monsters rushing toward him.
"That's where you're wrong, Rin."
He broke into a sprint.
BOOM.
Stone pulverized beneath his heel as he launched himself.
"This ain't a horde!"
He lunged forward, meeting the lead Runt mid-air.
"It's just a lost herd! And I am the starving wolf!"
Lexel didn't punch.
Without the heavy, broken gear weighing down his arms, he felt lighter. Faster.
His fingers curled into claws.
The first Runt leaped at his throat, jaws snapping. Lexel caught it out of the air. His hand clamped over the beast's face, his fingers digging into the bone with raw, unassisted strength.
"Sit."
He slammed the creature into the ground.
The impact was visceral. There was no explosion of gore this time, just the sickening crunch of a spine snapping. The Runt went limp instantly.
Two more lunged from the sides.
Lexel spun. He didn't block; he swiped. His backhand struck the left Runt, sending it careening into the wall with enough force to crack the stone. Simultaneously, his right leg snapped out, catching the second Runt in the ribs.
He moved like smoke, weaving through the gnashing teeth and slashing claws. The frustration of the lost loot burned in his chest, converting into pure adrenaline.
"Die!"
He grabbed a Runt by its hind legs and swung it like a club, smashing it into the rest of the pack.
"Mine!"
Lexel saw a cluster of five Runts scrambling over each other to get to him. He grinned.
He planted his feet. He channeled his intent, focusing the energy into his right leg. The skill node in his soul responded instantly.
[Tiger Stomp]
He brought his heel down.
THOOM!
The impact didn't just crack the floor; it sent a localized shockwave through the stone. The five Runts lost their footing instantly, bounced into the air by the kinetic force.
Before they could land, Lexel was among them.
"Loot!"
He tore a tusk off a charging beast and stabbed it into the monster's own eye.
Anthierin watched from the back, her hammer held defensively across her chest. She realized, with a jolt of fear and awe, that Lexel wasn't fighting for survival. He was fighting for profit.
Every blow was calculated to kill, yes, but he was also checking the bodies as they fell. He was hunting.
"He's insane," she whispered to herself. "He's absolutely insane."
The fight lasted less than sixty seconds.
Thirty Runts lay dead on the floor. Lexel stood in the center of the pile, breathing heavily, his hands slick with dark blood. He had a few scratches on his arms—shallow cuts from stray claws—but he didn't seem to care.
He dropped to his knees.
"Lexel?" Anthierin called out, taking a step forward. "Are you hurt?"
"Shhh," Lexel hissed, waving a hand at her without looking up. "I'm rolling."
"Rolling?"
Lexel ignored her. He was frantically patting down the carcasses.
"Come on," he muttered, turning over a dead Runt. "Green. Give me Green. Or Red. I'm not picky. Just don't be empty."
He moved to the largest Runt—the alpha of the small pack. He grabbed its jaw and ripped it open, plunging his hand into the chest cavity. He rummaged through the pixelated gore, searching for the hard, spherical shape of a Core.
His fingers brushed against something hard.
But it wasn't a sphere. It was jagged. Cold. And incredibly dense.
Lexel froze.
He pulled his hand out.
Clutched in his bloody fingers was a chunk of metal. It was the size of a fist, radiating a soft, silver-blue luminescence that cut through the darkness. It wasn't organic. It didn't pulse like a heart. It hummed like a trapped frequency.
"What is this?" Lexel asked, holding it up. "This isn't a Core."
Anthierin walked over, her eyes widening as the blue light hit her face.
She sniffed. Her nose twitched violently.
"That smell..." she whispered. "That's it. That's what I smelled in the corridor."
She reached out, touching the cold metal. "Lexel... that's not a Monster Core. That is Mythril!"
"Mythril?" Lexel blinked. "Inside a pig?"
"It's a Mythril Nodule," Anthierin explained, her voice trembling with excitement. "These monsters... they eat rocks to aid digestion. Sometimes, in these deep nests, they eat rare ores. But their bodies can't digest Mythril. It's too hard. So it stays in them. It accumulates. It becomes their core."
She looked at the glowing metal in his hand.
"You didn't just find a loot drop," she grinned. "You just mined the highest grade ore in the region without swinging a pickaxe."
Lexel looked at the lump of silver-blue metal.
He weighed it in his hand. It was heavy. Dense.
"So," Lexel grinned, "I don't have to mine the walls? I just have to kill the things that ate the walls?"
"Essentially, yes."
"I love this world," Lexel laughed.
He tossed the Mythril to Anthierin. She caught it, cradling it like a newborn baby. Her eyes were shimmering, not just from the reflection of the ore, but with professional greed.
"Can you work with this?" Lexel asked. "Can you make those gauntlets right now?"
"Right now?" Anthierin scoffed, wiping a smudge of blood off the gleaming metal. "Lexel, are you crazy? This is Mythril."
She looked at the metal, her fingers trembling slightly.
"But..." she whispered, "Just holding this... analyzing its structure... I can feel my proficiency rising. If I successfully refine this later, the experience gain will be massive. It might be enough to break my level cap. I could become an Advanced Blacksmith."
"Advanced Blacksmith," Lexel mused. "Sounds useful. But it doesn't solve my problem now."
He held up his bare, bloodied fists.
"The parents are coming home," Lexel said, nodding toward the deep dark where the grinding noise was getting louder.
Anthierin snapped out of her trance. She shoved the Mythril into her pouch and looked around the tunnel walls.
"Iron," she stated firmly.
"Iron?"
"I can't forge the Mythril yet, but I can fix your scrap gauntlets," she explained rapidly, kicking a loose stone. "I collected the pieces you threw away. If I can find a vein of Iron Ore—just standard, low-grade Iron—I can perform a [Quick Forge]. It won't be pretty, and it won't last long, but it will give you enough density to fight at peak potential for a few minutes."
Lexel grinned. "A disposable weapon for a disposable boss. I like it."
He cracked his neck, the lava-red glow in his eyes flaring as he looked at the tunnel walls.
"Sniff it out, Rin. Find me some Iron."
"I'm not a dog!" Anthierin closed her eyes, inhaling deeply through the scent of monster blood and damp stone.
"There," she pointed to a cluster of dull grey rocks near the walls, about twenty feet away. "I smell rust. That's an Iron vein."
"On it," Lexel said.
RUMBLE.
The ground beneath them shook violently this time. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
The low, grinding sound from the deep dark shifted into a roar. It wasn't just a noise; it was a challenge.
"Lexel," Anthierin whispered, clutching her hammer. "We have maybe two minutes before that thing gets here."
Lexel looked at the Iron vein stretching along the broken walls, then back at the darkness.
"Two minutes is plenty," Lexel grinned, crouching down to jump. "Let's get to work."