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JL Chapter 13 Big Rewards
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 22:30:23 +0000 UTCThe moonlight filtered through the canopy above, painting the clearing in silver and shadow. The great ape’s corpse loomed behind them like a mountain toppled on its side, its grotesque spikes jutting upward. The smell of blood, both theirs and the beast’s, hung heavy in the air, sticky and suffocating.
Mitchell sat slumped against a broken stump, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. The adrenaline had been completely drained out of him, leaving only exhaustion and pain that made it hard to breathe. His ruined hoodie was nothing more than strips now, the fabric torn into makeshift bandages that wrapped around his ribs, arms, and forehead. Lovel sat cross-legged nearby, her golden eyes calm as she tied the last strip tightly around her own thigh.
Her silver hair clung to her cheeks with sweat and blood, her tail twitching once before settling behind her. She glanced at him, her ears flicking at the sound of his ragged breathing.
Mitchell stared at the ground, his gaze distant. ‘We actually killed it… just the two of us.’ The thought should’ve filled him with pride, but instead it gnawed at him. He remembered how close Lovel had come to being crushed, how close he had come to collapsing before the killing blow. His hands clenched, trembling slightly. ‘If we had more people—if we had a real party—maybe this wouldn’t have been so close. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to risk herself so much.’
“Master?” Lovel’s voice broke his spiral. She had been watching him, and though her tone was steady, there was an edge of concern. “Are you alright?”
He blinked and looked up, forcing a smile that came out more tired than reassuring. “I’m… sore. Pretty banged up. But better. Thanks to you.” He glanced at her bandaged arms, then back at the hulking corpse behind them. “I just… can’t stop wondering how the hell we survived that. And if being just the two of us is really enough.”
Lovel tilted her head, studying him with quiet patience. “We fought together and endured. That is enough.”
Mitchell gave a short, bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re the one who was dancing around that thing like some sword master. I was just—” He stopped himself, biting down on his lip. “I was just slowing you down.”
Her ears flicked, her tail bristling faintly. “No. You struck the final blow. Without you, I would be dead.”
The weight of her words silenced him for a moment. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting back to the ape’s corpse. “Yeah, maybe. But…” He gestured weakly toward the massive body. “Now we’ve got a whole new problem. How the hell do we even drag that thing back to Varnhelm? It’s the size of a damn wagon.”
Lovel’s golden eyes followed his gesture, narrowing slightly as she assessed the beast. “I do not know how valuable it will be. Perhaps its bones or hide are worth something. But…” She stood slowly, wiping her bloodied palms against her thighs. “If we both pull at the same time, we may be able to move it.”
Mitchell let out a long groan, leaning his head back against the stump. “Figures you’d say that. Of course, the practical solution. Just… grab the giant monster by its spikes and drag it through the dirt.” He winced as he pushed himself up, one hand clutching his ribs. “God, this is gonna be a nightmare.”
“You would rather leave it here?” Lovel asked simply, raising an eyebrow.
“…No.” He sighed again, shoulders slumping. “After all that? We’re not walking away empty-handed. The guild better pay us triple for this thing.”
Lovel moved to his side, steadying him with a firm hand on his arm. Her touch was warm, grounding. “Then we better start dragging it to the city.”
Mitchell glanced at her, meeting her steady golden gaze. For a moment, the exhaustion in him eased—not because he felt stronger, but because she looked so damn certain. He managed a faint smile. “…Right.”
Together, they limped toward the corpse. The great ape’s hide was slick with blood, its spikes jagged and uneven. They each grabbed hold of one, Mitchell grimacing as pain shot through his bandaged arms. Lovel braced her legs, muscles taut as she leaned back against the weight.
“On three,” Mitchell muttered, sweat already beading on his forehead. “One… two… three!”
The corpse shifted with a sickening squelch, moving only inches before settling heavily into the dirt again. Both of them groaned, collapsing back against their heels.
Mitchell wheezed out a laugh despite himself. “Oh, this is gonna take all night.”
Lovel’s tail flicked once, her expression as calm as ever. “Then we will take all night, Master.”
Mitchell shook his head, grinning weakly. “You’re insane. You know that, right?”
Her faint smile returned. “I learned it from you.”
And so, battered and broken, the unlikely duo began the grueling task of dragging the corpse of the great bone ape toward the distant lights of Varnhelm—each step a reminder of their survival, their struggle, and the strange bond that kept them moving forward together.
—--------------------------------------
The night was quiet along the main road to Varnhelm, the lanterns hung from the city’s outer gate casting a pale, golden glow across the dirt path. The occasional wagon creaked past, merchants making their way in before the gates closed for the night. Adventurers trickled back from the wilds in small groups, their laughter and boasts filling the air. It was the usual evening rhythm of the city.
Until they heard the sound of something being drag through the dirt.
Guards at the gate shifted uneasily, turning their heads. Then the shadows of two figures appeared in the lamplight: one limping man, clothes in tatters, face pale and streaked with blood, and beside him a silver-haired beastkin girl, bandages covering her arms and thigh. Both of them were dragging behind them an enormous, grotesque corpse.
The murmurs started immediately.
“By the gods…” One guard whispered, his spear lowering slightly as his eyes widened. “What in the hells is that?”
The corpse of the bone ape scraped across the ground, its spikes gouging deep lines into the dirt, its ruined eye a black pit that seemed to stare at the onlookers even in death. The sheer size of it was smaller than a wagon, and the stench of rot and ichor carried ahead of it, making a few adventurers recoil.
“Holy crap—that’s a Great Bone Ape!” An adventurer gasped, nearly dropping the sack of wolf pelts slung over his shoulder. “I thought those things were at the C-rank in the danger scale!”
“No way… look at it. I heared these things were only found in the mountains.” Another adventurer, a young man with a freshly polished sword, stepped back instinctively, his bravado draining as he stared at the beast’s collapsed bulk.
The guards exchanged glances, their earlier nonchalance shattered. One of them, the senior on duty, barked out, “You two—halt! Explain yourselves! Where in the abyss did you kill that thing?”
Mitchell nearly collapsed at the command, his arms burning from holding onto the beast’s spike. He wanted to laugh, as if dragging this monster through half the forest wasn’t explanation enough. But all he could manage was a breathless, “Outside the eastern woods… it attacked us.”
The younger guard gawked. “Attacked you? Just the two of you?” His eyes darted between Mitchell’s bandaged form and Lovel’s steady, bloodstained hands. “That’s… impossible.”
Lovel said nothing, her golden eyes calm and unreadable as she continued to hold the spike. Her tail swayed once behind her, her posture still steady despite her injuries.
Mitchell gave a weak chuckle, swaying slightly on his feet. “Yeah, well… tell that to the corpse.”
The crowd of adventurers gathering around buzzed louder, mutters rising.
“No way they killed that thing alone.”
“Look at them—they’re barely standing!”
“Must’ve been a fluke. Or dumb luck.”
“Still… they brought it back, didn’t they?”
One grizzled adventurer, an older man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward and knelt by the corpse. He placed a hand against one of the exposed bone spikes and whistled low. “It’s feeñs fresh. Gods above, they actually did it.” His eyes flicked to Mitchell and Lovel, and though his expression remained hard, there was the faintest trace of respect.
The guards, unsure whether to treat this as triumph or threat, shifted uneasily. Finally, the senior cleared his throat. “Right… well. You’ll need to take that beast straight to the guild for evaluation. If you can even… move it further than this.” His tone softened reluctantly. “But… impressive work. Don’t think I’ve ever seen two rookies haul in something like this.”
Mitchell gave a half-smile, sweat trickling down his temple. “ Guess we’re setting records already.”
The adventurers’ chatter rose again, disbelief mingling with curiosity. Some eyes were sharp with suspicion, others wide with awe. But every gaze stayed locked on the battered pair—the unlikely master and servant who had dragged such a massive beast to the gates of Varnhelm.
Mitchell let go of the spike for a moment, his knees almost buckling. Lovel immediately steadied him with one arm, her grip firm. He looked at her, breathless, then at the gawking crowd, and sighed.
“…Great. Now we’re a spectacle.”
Lovel’s tail flicked once in amusement, her calm voice carrying over the silence. “Better a spectacle than corpses left in the forest, Master.”
Mitchell groaned but couldn’t argue. “Yeah… fair point.”
And together, under the stunned stares of guards and adventurers alike, they resumed dragging the massive corpse through the gates, toward the guild.
—------------------------------------
The streets of Varnhelm buzzed with the night life, but all sound seemed to hush as Mitchell and Lovel dragged their grisly trophy through the cobbled roads. Torches flickered, merchants stopped mid-sale, and drunkards sobered at the sight of the enormous ape’s carcass scraping against the stones. Whispers chased them wherever they went.
By the time they reached the adventurer’s guild, the massive corpse had left a dark trail of ichor smeared behind them, like a grotesque breadcrumb path. Mitchell felt every step like fire in his legs, his ribs screaming, his palms raw from gripping the spikes. Lovel moved silently at his side, her steady breathing and calm golden eyes hiding the strain etched into her limbs.
When they finally shoved the great corpse to the foot of the guild’s steps, Mitchell nearly collapsed against it, panting hard. “God… I think… I just invented… the world’s worst workout.”
The heavy oak doors creaked open as if the building itself had sensed the commotion. A hush fell inside the guild hall, cutting through the usual raucous mix of chatter, laughter, and clinking mugs. Every adventurer turned, mugs frozen halfway to lips, cards held mid-game, as the spectacle outside came into view.
And then came the voice, sharp and disbelieving.
“…What in the gods’ name is that?”
Sera, the silver-haired receptionist, stood at the counter, her quill slipping from her fingers. Her blue eyes widened as she stepped out from behind her desk, skirt swishing against the floor. She pushed her way through the crowd that had already gathered near the entrance, her expression swinging from shock to something dangerously close to exasperation.
“Mitchell. Lovel.” Her voice cracked the silence, firm as ever. “Explain.”
Mitchell straightened, trying to look less like he was about to pass out. He gestured weakly toward the hulking corpse, which oozed black ichor onto the guild’s stone steps. “We managed to kill it in the Eastern woods. Big pain in the ass. Thought it’d be a waste to leave it there.”
Gasps and mutters erupted from the adventurers crowding the hall.
“No way, just the two of them?!”
“That’s a Great Bone Ape! That’s C-tier monster!”
“Either they’re lying, or they’re the luckiest bastards in the kingdom. I heard its bones go for quite the price.”
Sera’s sharp gaze swept the room, silencing the crowd with a single look before returning to the pair. Her eyes softened briefly as they flicked over the bandages wrapped around Mitchell’s chest and arms, then to the bruises dotting Lovel’s frame. She let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“You…” She shook her head, voice low. “You are either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Likely both.”
Mitchell forced a crooked grin. “Guess we’re trendsetters.”
“You’re lunatics,” An adventurer barked from the back, a burly man with a scarred jaw. “Two rookies take down a beast that teams of six D Ranks can’t handle? You expect us to swallow that?”
Mitchell’s smile twitched, his exhaustion making his temper flare. “You don’t have to believe me. The corpse is right there.” He jabbed a thumb at the ape’s hulking frame. “You think I dragged that thing in for the fun of it? Go ahead, poke it. It won’t bite.”
Laughter rippled uneasily through the room, but the doubt still lingered. Sera, however, stepped forward and crouched near the beast, her delicate hands brushing over the jagged spikes. She examined the wounds—the slash across the thigh, the punctures from quills, the deep, fatal stab in the chest. Her eyes flicked up to Lovel, then to Mitchell.
“…The wounds match your weapons,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. She stood, her gaze sharp as she faced the skeptical crowd. “This kill is theirs.”
The hall erupted again, this time with shock and disbelief. Some voices were awed, others sour.
“Unbelievable…”
“Damn kids…”
“Maybe they’re not rookies after all.”
Sera ignored them, her eyes softening slightly as she looked at the pair. “Now Mitchell you should be dead,” She muttered, her voice only loud enough for them. “But you’re not. Which means I’ll have to process this, and the guild will owe you a reward…” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “And a very large cleanup bill.”
Mitchell managed a tired laugh, leaning on the corpse for support. “Add that to our tab.”
Lovel stood silently beside him, her tail swaying once, her golden eyes never leaving Sera’s face. Finally, she bowed her head slightly. “We did what was necessary. Nothing more.”
The crowd buzzed louder at that, admiration and jealousy mixing in equal measure. The name of Mitchell and his beastkin slave was already on the lips of every adventurer in the hall.
And as Sera ordered the guild staff to begin preparing a valuation, Mitchell could only think one thing as he nearly collapsed into the nearest chair. ‘So much for keeping a low profile.’
The guild hall, once alive with chatter and disbelief, turned into a hive of activity as soon as Sera barked out her orders.
“Clear the floor! Move the tables back!” She commanded, her silver hair swishing as she pointed to a group of staff in green and white guild uniforms. “Get the assessment tools, scales, and catalog sheets. And someone send for the quartermaster—we’ll need storage prepared for this much material.”
The corpse of the Great Bone Ape was far too large to drag inside, so the front steps of the guild became an impromptu assessment station. Curious adventurers spilled out onto the street, lanterns raised high, their shadows dancing against the massive spikes jutting from the ape’s back. The smell of blood was sharp in the cool night air, making a few gag while others stared in fascination.
Mitchell sat slumped against the guild wall, one arm bandaged, his ribs aching beneath his ruined sweater, while Lovel stood silently at his side, her golden eyes following every movement of the guild staff. Her tail twitched occasionally, betraying her vigilance.
The staff worked quickly. A man with thick gloves and a cleaver approached the carcass first, hacking through layers of fur and hardened muscle to peel away a section of hide. The cut was difficult, even with enchanted steel. “Damn thing’s tougher than steel-plated armor,” he muttered, sweat gleaming on his brow.
Another clerk scribbled notes onto a long parchment. “Bone density is abnormal. Spikes will need separate cataloging—those alone could be worth more than low-grade spears.”
Two others brought in a portable scale, more suited for weighing ore than monster parts, and began piling chunks of hide and bone onto it as they worked. The numbers quickly exceeded what most adventurers ever saw in a single haul.
“Unbelievable,” one clerk whispered as he wiped his hands clean. “This much hide could outfit various hunters. The guild smiths will be ecstatic.”
Another called out, “One fang alone weighs nearly ten pounds. Imagine the alchemical reagents we’ll get from the marrow.”
Sera stood at the forefront of it all, quill in hand again as she recorded the numbers with practiced efficiency. Her blue eyes flicked to Mitchell and Lovel from time to time, her expression unreadable but sharp.
At last, the quartermaster—a stocky, bald man with a permanent scowl—strode onto the scene. He gave the corpse a long look, grunted, and then started tallying with the staff. After several minutes of murmured debate and recalculations, he turned to Sera and nodded.
Sera cleared her throat and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, her voice carrying authority that silenced the muttering crowd.
“The estimated value of this Great Bone Ape carcass,” she announced, “is set at twelve silver and forty-five bronze.”
The hall erupted into gasps.
“12 silver?!”
“That’s more than most of us make in a month!”
Mitchell’s head shot up at the number. “Eight… silver?” His jaw dropped.
Sera’s lips twitched in the faintest smile. “Don’t undervalue your work. For adventurers of your rank, this is a record-setting haul. And with your share…” She gestured toward him with her quill. “It might be enough to replace that sorry excuse for a sweater.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd, though it carried more awe than mockery.
Mitchell groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t even have the energy to celebrate. I just want a bed. A soft one. Maybe soup.”
Lovel, still composed despite the bandages on her arms, turned her gaze toward him. “You should rest, Master. You earned it.”
Her simple words, spoken without a trace of sarcasm, brought a warmth to Mitchell’s chest that no amount of money could match. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for just a moment.
Around them, adventurers still whispered—some with admiration, some with envy—but none could take their eyes off the pair who had dragged a monster into the heart of Varnhelm.
And for Mitchell, one thought refused to leave him even as exhaustion pulled at his mind:
‘If this is the limit of what the two of us can do… What will happen when the Goddess throws something worse our way? I have to find more party members but first some better gear.’
—-------------------------------------
Hollow Hearth
The room at the inn was quiet except for the faint creak of old wood and the soft whistle of wind seeping through a cracked window. The walls were thin, and the smell of smoke and cheap ale from the tavern below clung to everything—yet, in that moment, Mitchell couldn’t have cared less.
The two of them lay tangled together on a bed of straw that had long since given up pretending to be comfortable. The thin blanket barely covered them, their worn clothes serving as the only barrier against the cold.
Mitchell shifted slightly, grimacing as the motion tugged at his bandages. Lovel, curled up against his chest, stirred but didn’t pull away. Her silver hair brushed against his chin, tickling him slightly as she breathed slow and even, her tail coiled around his leg like a sleepy animal’s instinctive embrace.
For the first time since they’d stumbled into Varnhelm covered in blood, Mitchell let himself breathe properly. The ache in his muscles, the sting of his cuts, the throbbing in his ribs—it all faded under the warmth of the quiet.
‘We're still alive,’ He thought, a weak smile tugging at his lips.
He tilted his head slightly, glancing down at Lovel. The dim candlelight flickered across her features, highlighting the faint bruises on her arms and the exhaustion still written on her face. Even like this—filthy, bruised, bandaged—she looked serene. Content.
“Hey,” He murmured softly.
Her ears twitched, and she blinked up at him, eyes hazy with drowsiness. “Yes, Master?”
He hesitated, smiling faintly at how the title still made him feel both awkward and protective all at once. “Tomorrow… we’re going shopping.”
Her eyes blinked once, then twice, trying to process the words through the fog of fatigue. “Shopping?” She echoed softly, her voice sleepy but curious.
“Yeah,” He said, chuckling under his breath. “It’s about time we buy proper gear, armor and some real weapons. Supplies that don’t smell like something died in the bag. Maybe even—” He glanced at the cracked ceiling, the corners of his mouth lifting. “—a place that doesn’t charge us for the rats under the bed.”
That earned a small sound from her—half a laugh, half a sigh. Her tail flicked lazily, brushing against his leg again. “That would be nice,” She said quietly. “A better bed would be… nice.”
Mitchell grinned, even as exhaustion pulled at his eyelids. “A bed without hay poking me in places I didn’t know I had. Yeah, I can get behind that.”
She smiled faintly, a rare sight that made his chest tighten. “I will help carry the things,” she said softly, her tone firm despite her drowsiness.
“Of course you will,” He murmured with a teasing smile. “Can’t have my partner letting me do all the heavy lifting.”
Her ears perked slightly at the word partner, and though she said nothing, the flick of her tail betrayed the warmth that rose in her chest. She nestled closer, pressing her forehead against his collarbone.
The silence that followed was comfortable—just the quiet sound of breathing, the faint rustle of straw, and the occasional crack from the wooden frame beneath them. Mitchell let his thoughts wander, exhaustion making them soft and sluggish.
We survived a monster that should’ve killed us both. We’re still standing. Still breathing. Tomorrow… we start again.
He sighed, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from her cheek. “Hey, Lovel,” he said quietly.
Her eyes opened slightly. “Yes, Master?”
“Thanks,” he said simply. “For saving my ass back there.”
She blinked once, her golden eyes soft in the dim light. “You saved mine too,” she whispered. “We are even.”
Mitchell chuckled weakly. “If that’s how it works, we’re gonna spend our lives one-upping each other.”
Her tail gave another lazy flick, and she mumbled, “I do not mind that.”
He smiled at that, a genuine warmth spreading through him that even his aching body couldn’t dim. The weight of exhaustion finally won, and his eyes drifted shut.
As sleep began to pull him under, he felt Lovel shift again, her hand resting lightly against his chest, her breathing steady and calm. He wasn’t sure if she was asleep yet, but before darkness fully claimed him, he heard her murmur softly, almost to herself:
“I am glad you are my master.”
The words hung in the air like a gentle whisper, and then silence took them both.
—-----------------------------------------------
Morning broke over Varnhelm in a wash of soft gold and gray. The first rays of sunlight spilled across the crooked rooftops and chimneys, chasing away the lingering fog that clung to the narrow streets. The city was already stirring—the sound of carts rolling over cobblestones, merchants calling out as they unpacked their wares, and the faint chatter of townsfolk starting their day.
Mitchell and Lovel stepped out of the Hollow Hearth Inn, blinking at the brightness that felt almost unreal after the chaos of the previous night. Several townsfolk gave them a curious glance as they passed, clearly recognizing the pair that had dragged a monstrous corpse through town the night before. Mitchell ignored it with a sheepish grin, tugging at the edge of his still-torn hoodie.
“Man,” He muttered, stretching and wincing as his ribs protested. “I think my body’s planning to file a complaint against me.”
Lovel, walking beside him, tilted her head. “Do you mean it still hurts?”
The cobblestones gleamed with dew, and banners fluttered lazily from wooden beams overhead. The smell of baked bread, roasted nuts, and sizzling meat filled the air as stalls opened one by one along the main square.
Lovel’s golden eyes darted around, taking it all in. For someone who had once known nothing but cages and cold dirt floors, the energy of Varnhelm was almost overwhelming. Children darted between market stalls laughing, merchants shouted over one another to catch customers, and adventurers of every race and size moved through the crowd with weapons glinting at their sides.
Mitchell couldn’t help but grin. “Now this is the Varnhelm I like to see.”
Lovel walked close beside him, her ears twitching at every new sound. “It’s always loud in the morning.” she said simply, though her eyes betrayed quiet wonder.
They passed a row of food vendors first. The scent of freshly baked flatbread made Mitchell’s stomach growl loud enough that Lovel’s ears flicked toward him. He tried to play it off with a cough. “Heh. Guess breakfast should’ve come before the sightseeing.”
“Then let’s find somewhere to eat.” Lovel said immediately, stopping in her tracks and turning toward a nearby stall where an old woman was selling skewers of roasted meat.
Mitchell chuckled. “I like how you think.”
He fished a few bronze coins from his pouch—the last remnants of his old, meager funds before last night’s payout—and handed them over. The vendor smiled toothlessly and passed them two sticks wrapped in parchment.
The meat was greasy and hot, spiced just enough to burn the tongue. Mitchell bit into his with a groan of satisfaction. “Okay, this meat is actually pretty good.”
Lovel nibbled carefully at hers, her tail swishing once in contentment. “Better than dried rations,” She admitted softly.
They continued down the street, chewing as they walked. The market stretched far as the stalls were packed tighter and the wares more elaborate.
Finally done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.
