The silence didn't last long.
The goblins that still twitched were finished quickly. Nicole gave the order. Her voice was calm but hollow. Sloan, Viktor, and Laney moved through the wreckage, ending whatever still breathed. No one celebrated. No one spoke.
Most goblins were already dead. Their bodies collapsed where they stood, and mana burned out the moment the Shaman fell. The rest were too weak to fight: staggering, bleeding from their eyes, and choking on smoke and mana. Briar and Giselle picked them off from a distance. Each shot echoed like punctuation at the end of a long, ugly sentence.
When it was finally quiet, only a faint hum of Nadia's fading mana remained. The low vibration made the air thick, like the world hadn't realized the fight was over. The violet haze she conjured lingered above the cracked tiles, slowly dispersing.
I hadn't moved.
I was still standing over the Shaman's body, or what was left of it. His flesh was gray and split, the veins beneath his skin faintly glowing from the backlash. The smell of scorched mana clung to the air, thick and chemical. My hands still trembled from the fight, the ache of mana burn crawling up my arms, but I couldn't look away.
That's when I saw it.
Near the ruins of the altar, half-buried in ash and shattered tile, a faint blue glow pulsed. Even before the system notification appeared, I knew what it meant.
System Notification:
Loot Acquired - Shaman of Decay
[Drop List]
Manaforged Staff of Decay (Rare) Skillbook — Renewal Veil (Uncommon) Base Core (Rare) Gold Coins x500
The staff caught my eye first.
Its shaft was made of polished blackwood, carved with precise runes that faintly glowed beneath the grime. Green veins of dormant mana pulsed under the surface, steady, restrained, like it was holding its breath. Whatever corruption it once carried had died with its master.
I crouched and picked it up. A vibration ran through my arm, sharp and alive, before settling into a low hum. It was heavier than it looked, balanced, deliberate. A weapon made for focus, not brute force.
Item Identified:
Manaforged Staff of Decay (Rare)
A weapon once wielded by a corrupted shaman. Its power has stabilized, though faint traces of its former energy remain.
+20% Magic Power +10% Mana Efficiency Passive: 10% chance to corrupt the enemy
I didn't know what counted as rare or common yet, but the pulse of mana under the wood told me everything I needed to know. It felt powerful, steady in a way most weapons weren't. Whoever ended up using it would get a boost, at least for a while.
"Guess you left something useful behind," I muttered, nudging what was left of the Shaman's ash with my boot.
Next to the staff lay a sealed book wrapped in pale green binding. It pulsed faintly, the pages shimmering through the cover.
Item Identified:
Skillbook: Renewal Veil (Uncommon)
Generates a continuous healing field that restores +15 HP per second to allies within 5 meters for 10 seconds. Medium cooldown.
(Replaces "Restoration Pulse – Common" if learned.)
That one would make a difference. Maybe for Liz, maybe for whoever needed it next.
The last drop was what made me pause. A smooth orb about the size of my palm, polished silver-blue with faint energy swirling at its center.
Item Identified:
Base Core (Rare – Blue)
A stabilized mana construct capable of transforming cleared zones into System-recognized Bases. Converts ambient mana into permanent infrastructure and defensive integrity. Its rare quality grants enhanced stability and expansion potential.
+20% Base Durability and Structural Efficiency Slightly accelerates recovery and regeneration within Base territory Can be refined or merged with higher-tier cores
Beneath the text, faint letters shimmered in silver, flickering just like the Beginner's Guide had warned:
[System Advisory: Base Cores are markers of dominion. Activation constitutes a territorial claim. Ownership cannot be transferred without death or System override.]
The words echoed what I'd read before, but seeing them here, glowing against the debris, made it feel heavier.
In the Guide, it had sounded clinical. Now, it felt like a warning.
"The System rewards creation as much as destruction. But creation comes with ownership and ownership comes with responsibility."
That line came back to me in full, every word cold and deliberate.
I looked at the Core pulsing in my palm, its light steady and alive, like a heartbeat that refused to die. The System was giving me a chance to build something real. A place that couldn't just be taken or burned down overnight.
For the first time since the world ended, the idea didn't feel impossible.
Maybe this wasn't just another tool in someone else's game.
Maybe it's a way out.
A way home.
The final drop was a simple leather pouch. I shook it open. Gold coins spilled into my palm, their soft metallic clink breaking the silence. Five hundred coins. The first clean sound after the bloodshed.
Nicole walked up beside me, wiping her knife on a torn scrap of cloth. She looked down at the loot, then at me.
"Guess he was worth something," she said quietly.
"More than most," I replied, slipping the coins away. "But not enough."
"Never is."
Nadia joined us, her staff still faintly glowing as she stepped over a pile of corpses. Her eyes caught the Base Core immediately, its blue light reflecting off the violet haze around her.
"That," she said, voice smooth and greedy, "is mine."
Nicole turned toward her, expression hard. "The hell it is."
Nadia arched a brow, feigning surprise. "Oh, come on. You wouldn't have even made it to the altar without me. Someone had to finish that monster before it melted all of you into paste."
"You left us," Nicole shot back, her voice sharp enough to cut through the silence. "You vanished when we needed you most."
Nadia rolled her eyes. "I went back to the store. We were out of mana potions, remember? I bought supplies and this." She lifted her staff, twirling it once so the carved runes caught the faint light. "Without it, I wouldn't have been able to bind the Shaman when I did. You should be thanking me."
I stared at her, jaw tightening. "You abandoned the fight, Nadia. You didn't tell anyone. You left us bleeding on the floor and walked out."
She met my glare without flinching. "I call it strategy. You call it abandonment. Either way, it worked."
The quiet that followed wasn't relief. It was pressure. Heavy, thick, ready to snap.
Then Marcus moved.
He'd been standing near the wrecked bench, blood still dripping from a cut along his temple. His face was unreadable until he reached her. Then his hand shot out and wrapped around her throat, slamming her back against the wall.
"You call that strategy?" he snarled, voice raw and low. "You were waiting. Waiting for us to fall so you could walk in and take the kill."
Nadia didn't fight him. Her eyes narrowed, and the faint shimmer of violet mana flickered across her skin. "Careful," she rasped, lips curling into a smirk even as his hand tightened. "You're only alive because I decided to come back."
Nicole took a step forward. "Marcus."
He didn't move. His hand trembled, rage and grief bleeding through his voice. "People died while you played hero. You think we needed your timing? We needed your help."
Nadia's tone stayed steady, infuriatingly calm. "And now you have it. You're welcome."
That was enough. Nicole pulled Marcus back, forcing him to release her. Nadia coughed, rubbing her neck, but her smirk never left.
Nadia looked at the staff still lying where she dropped it, then back at me. "You can keep your Core," she said, voice brittle. "I'll take what's mine."
She bent down, picked up the staff, and slung it over her shoulder. "You're ungrateful," she spat. "You wouldn't have made it out without me. But don't worry, I won't forget."
She turned and walked away without another word, violet light trailing faintly behind her.
Nicole exhaled slowly. "Let her go."
"We were going to," I said.
Nicole tied the pouch to her belt and glanced toward me. "We'll use it for supplies. Food, ammo, medical. Things that actually matter."
I nodded, the faint blue light of the Core still pulsing in my hand. The fight was over, but the air still felt heavy, stretched thin between victory and something colder.
Whatever unity we had left was hanging by a thread, and it was about to break.