Oscar’s internal comntary went silent imdiately, the weapon’s full attention focused on Jack’s words with an intensity that transcended its usual verbosity.
"I learned sothing in the Hollow," Jack continued, his voice carrying certainty that ca from recent discoveries about the Soul Realm and the nature of existence itself.
"It’s possible to manipulate souls. After I experienced it firsthand, it got thinking. I need to separate the soul from the body to bind them to new vessels."
His yellow-orange eyes fixed on the spear.
"Which ans it should be possible to remove your soul from this weapon and give you a body that can touch things."
-------
Rhys stood before Young Lord Bale’s castle gates, his arms crossed as he watched minotaurs unload crate after crate in a coordinated procession that had been continuing for the past hour.
Two hundred forty-seven minotaurs moved with military precision, each one carrying six to eight crates stacked in configurations that should have been impossible for bipedal creatures to balance.
But the bull-headed demons managed it through sheer strength and coordination that ca from weeks of practice under Brutus’s aggressive supervision.
The alpha minotaur directed the operation from an elevated position near the gate’s entrance, his massive fra making even the castle guards look like children by comparison.
Red sparks crackled off his eyes in irregular bursts, the electrical discharge creating small pops of light that illuminated his bestial features in ways that made him look even more threatening than usual.
He snorted commands carried across the courtyard with force that made the stone walls vibrate, each instruction delivered with contempt.
He had considered this entire operation beneath his capabilities, but would complete it perfectly anyway because Jack Kaiser had ordered it done.
The minotaurs responded to his directions with imdiate compliance, their movents shifting to barked corrections on crate placent, stacking thodology, and the proper way to handle materials that could fund a rchant caravan for six months.
One thousand eight hundred seventy-two crates total, each one filled with materials harvested from the Moonwell dungeon after the Hollow of the Sunless Tide had disappeared and revealed the S-rank environnt that had been hidden beneath a dinsional overlay.
Serpent scales that could be forged into armor capable of deflecting blade strikes. Beasts hide the retained magical properties even after being separated from their original owners.
Rare minerals that glowed faintly with accumulated mana.
Magical plants preserved through stasis enchantnts that prevented decay. Components from creatures that had existed in isolation for decades, their value impossible to calculate without expert appraisal.
The guards stationed at Young Lord Bale’s gates had initially tried to refuse entry when the minotaur procession first approached hours ago.
Their hands had moved toward weapons as they processed the sight of nearly two hundred fifty bull-headed beasts marching toward the castle with hostile intent written across their bestial features and enough crates to fill the entire courtyard.
The senior guard had stepped forward, his voice carrying official authority as he demanded identification and purpose for this unprecedented arrival.
Brutus had stopped walking, fixed the man with a stare that made the red sparks dancing off his eyes intensify into miniature lightning bolts, and snorted once with such concentrated contempt that several nearby guards had stepped backward despite their training.
The senior guard’s hand had frozen halfway to his sword hilt, his survival instincts screaming that drawing steel against this creature would result in his imdiate and extrely violent death.
His mouth had opened, closed, then opened again without producing sound as he tried to formulate a response that wouldn’t end with his organs decorating the courtyard stones.
Brutus had leaned forward slightly, bringing his massive horned head level with the guard’s face, and spoken in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder.
"You will move. Or I will move you. Choose quickly."
The guard had chosen wisely.
He and his companions had stepped aside, weapons remaining sheathed, their expressions carefully neutral as they tried very hard not to look like they were being intimidated by such large beasts.
They had enough common sense to realize that angering this beast could result in their skulls being crushed.
Now they stood at attention along the courtyard’s periter, eyes tracking the procession of crates with expressions that suggested they were recalculating their understanding of what constituted normal military logistics.
Standard material deliveries involved perhaps ten to fifteen crates loaded onto wagons pulled by draft animals. Humans could carry a crate with enhancent magic, except those who pursued martial studies.
This was two hundred forty-seven supernatural creatures, each carrying containers filled with dungeon materials valuable enough that a single crate’s contents could fund a guard’s salary for a year.
The sheer scale suggested resources beyond the capabilities of a normal adventuring party and entered territory usually reserved for royal military operations or large-scale rchant guild expeditions.
Young Lord Bale himself had erged from the castle roughly forty minutes into the unloading process.
His fine clothing and carefully grood appearance marked him as noble despite the relatively minor status of his family within Elysium’s aristocratic hierarchy.
Being the son of a Baron, he is essentially on the lower end of the totem pole. There were four ranks above him, and finally the king.
His hair was styled in current capital fashion, his jacket cut from expensive fabric, his boots polished to a mirror’s finish.
But his eyes had widened the mont he registered the sheer volu of materials being systematically stacked in his courtyard.
His mind was clearly struggling to calculate the value of what was being delivered to his doorstep without warning or prior arrangent.
He approached Rhys with a confident yet cautious deanor.
His posture conveyed deference, acknowledging that this delivery originated from Jack Kaiser and thus necessitated extrely careful handling.
The soul contract he’d signed not that long ago had been specific about his obligations, and violating terms by showing disrespect to Jack’s representatives would have consequences that went beyond simple political complications.
"Lord Rhys," Bale stated, his voice maintaining formality despite obvious curiosity burning behind his eyes.
"This is... considerably more material than I was expecting."
Rhys’s expression remained neutral, his arms still crossed as he watched another eight-crate stack get positioned beside the growing pile that now occupied roughly a third of the available courtyard space.
"Jack fulfilled his end of the agreent with King Eric. The dungeon was cleared, every floor stripped of valuable resources. This represents what he’s chosen to provide to you."
Bale’s face went pale as the implications registered. "This is... how many containers are there?"
"One thousand eight hundred seventy-two," Rhys confird, his tone carrying no particular emphasis. Just a statent of fact delivered with the sa clinical detachnt he might use to speak to ants.
The young lord’s jaw worked silently for several seconds as he processed the number and tried to reconcile it with his understanding of dungeon logistics.
A standard delving operation into a B-rank environnt might yield fifty to seventy crates of materials, depending on depth, monster density, and the party’s efficiency at harvesting.
An A-rank dungeon could potentially double that if the team was exceptionally skilled and thorough.
But five hundred seventeen crates from a single dungeon suggested harvesting on a scale that required either a massive coordinated operation involving hundreds of delvers or sothing that went completely beyond conventional adventuring thodology.
And Jack Kaiser had just delivered him a large amount of materials that people who kill for.
User Comments
0 comments from readers