Draven didn't look away from the scattered corpses.
"Start collecting the crystals."
His voice was flat.
A command.
Aldric huffed.
"Figured you'd get to that."
He rolled his shoulders as if warming up.
"Next time you could say it nicely."
The sarcasm didn't slow him.
Red energy flickered at his fingertips—subtle at first, then thickening into threads that sank into the ground.
Blood magic.
The air shifted.
A wet, metallic scent spread through the clearing.
The corpses twitched.
Not alive.
Not reanimating.
Something else.
Draven watched without reaction.
The slimes oozed away from the disturbance, instinctively avoiding the crimson aura.
Aldric's hands clenched.
Small glimmers of light—crystal cores—began to rise from the bodies.
Not gently.
They were pulled.
Ripped.
Magic crystals tore free of flesh and bone with sickening pops and wet snaps.
The cultist stiffened.
Eyes widening.
"That's… blood extraction."
Aldric smirked.
"Observant."
He clenched his fist.
The extracted crystals floated upward, suspended in a sphere of crimson blood that coalesced in the air.
A shimmering bubble.
Inside it—dozens of cores.
Small.
Jagged.
Some still slick with remnants of organic tissue.
Draven watched.
No comment.
No judgment.
Just analysis.
Useful materials.
Fuel.
The cultist swallowed.
"My lord… that is… efficient."
Aldric snorted.
"Better than digging around in guts."
He flicked his wrist.
The blood bubble drifted toward him.
The crystals clinked softly as they shifted.
Aldric reached toward the nearest corpse.
Red threads sank into the body.
The extraction repeated.
More crystals.
More bubbles of blood.
They floated and merged, forming a larger orb of crimson energy that hovered beside Aldric.
Inside it, the cores spun lazily.
The cultist stared.
Horror and fascination warred across his expression.
"You… you remove them without opening the body."
Aldric glanced at him.
"Messy otherwise."
The cultist's voice trembled slightly.
"That level of control… blood magic at that scale is dangerous."
Aldric smirked.
"Everything is dangerous if you suck at it."
He tilted his head toward Draven.
"Ask him."
The cultist looked.
Draven was already drawing another arrow.
He didn't respond.
The message was clear.
Results mattered.
Methods did not.
The cultist lowered his gaze.
"Yes, my lord."
Aldric continued extracting crystals.
One after another.
The blood bubble grew heavier.
Dozens of cores now floated inside it—some glowing faintly, others dull and cracked.
He guided the sphere toward Draven.
"All yours."
Draven glanced at the floating mass.
Forty percent.
The thought lingered.
Not enough.
But progress.
The blood bubble shifted toward him.
The crystals inside it hummed softly as they came within his influence.
He absorbed nothing yet.
Simply examined.
Energy density.
Usability.
The cultist watched.
Aldric folded his arms.
"Told you I could be useful."
Draven's expression didn't change.
"You are."
Aldric blinked.
"Wait. What?"
Draven looked at him.
"You collect."
A pause.
"You are useful."
Aldric stared.
Then laughed.
It wasn't offended.
More surprised.
"Well, look at that. Compliments."
Draven turned away.
He glanced back at Aldric, tone as dry as ever.
"Luckily you came yourself. Otherwise, who would want to do something like that?"
His gaze flicked to the blood bubble.
"A fitting job. Hold to it. You'll be picking up more."
Aldric's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
The smirk faded.
His brows lowered.
For a second, something sharper passed through his eyes—annoyance, maybe pride wounded.
The cultist chuckled softly.
Not mocking.
More nervous than anything.
Aldric's head snapped toward him.
"Laughing at what?"
The cultist stiffened.
"Nothing."
Aldric stepped closer.
His voice dropped.
"You think that was funny?"
The cultist swallowed.
"I… I only found the lord's words amusing."
Bad answer.
Aldric's jaw tightened.
"Watch it."
The air between them grew heavier.
The crimson orb of extracted crystals hovered nearby, spinning slowly.
Blood magic still clung to the clearing.
Draven had already turned away, disinterested in the brewing tension.
Aldric kept his eyes on the cultist.
"You want to die?" he asked flatly.
The cultist went still.
"No."
Aldric smirked again.
"Then behave. I won't hesitate."
He stepped back.
The tension didn't vanish.
It simply shifted.
Draven's voice cut through it.
"Finish with your bullshit."
Aldric exhaled.
"Yeah, yeah."
He returned to the corpses.
Red threads extended once more.
More crystals tore free.
Wet snaps.
Small flashes of light.
The bubble of blood grew larger, heavier.
The cultist watched in uneasy silence.
Aldric worked.
Methodical.
Efficient.
Saying little now.
Another rustle.
Deeper than the slimes.
Heavier than the goblins.
A D-rank beast burst from the undergrowth—larger than the earlier wolves, muscles coiled, eyes glowing faintly with predatory intelligence.
It lunged.
Fast.
Jaws wide.
Draven didn't move.
Not even a twitch.
The beast closed the distance—
And he slapped it.
Not a punch.
Not a strike.
A single, open-handed motion.
The impact cracked through the clearing.
The beast's head was driven downward with brutal force.
Stone shattered.
Its skull met the earth and collapsed.
The body twitched once.
Then stilled.
Dead.
Silence.
Aldric blinked.
"…Seriously?"
He stepped forward, inspecting the corpse.
The beast's neck was broken cleanly.
No struggle.
No drawn-out fight.
Just efficiency.
Aldric huffed.
"Show-off."
He knelt and extended red threads once more.
Blood magic coiled through the corpse.
The remaining crystal core rose slowly—small but dense, glowing with a deeper shade of mana than the minor beasts' shards.
He caught it in the floating blood sphere.
It clinked softly against the others.
Then went still.
Aldric examined the collection.
A single bubble of crimson energy now held all usable crystals.
Small cores.
Jagged fragments.
The last of them.
He exhaled.
"Last one."
The cultist stared.
"That was… D-rank."
Aldric stared flatly.
"Yeah."
He guided the blood orb toward Draven.
"All done."
The sphere drifted closer.
Crystals spun lazily inside it.
Draven glanced at it.
Forty percent.
Not enough.
But progress.
Aldric straightened.
"No more scraps in this area."
He looked around.
The slimes had retreated.
The goblins were gone.
Nothing else stirred.
The minor hunt was finished.
Draven nodded once.
"Move."
Aldric wiped his hands, dispersing the remaining crimson threads.
Blood magic faded.
The clearing grew quieter.
The cultist swallowed.
"So… we continue?"
Draven turned toward the forest path.
"Yes."
Aldric slung the crystal orb over his shoulder in a controlled bubble of blood.
"Great."
He smirked.
"Next time you can say thank you."
Draven didn't respond.
They moved on.
They arrived in another clearing.
More beasts came.
Less of a skirmish.
More routine.
Draven moved.
Slaps.
Punches.
Arrows when needed.
Bodies fell.
Aldric extracted the crystals, red threads pulling cores free with practiced efficiency.
The last corpse collapsed.
Another D-rank.
Another core.
He added it to the floating blood sphere.
It clinked softly with the others.
Aldric exhaled.
Sweat glistened faintly at his brow.
Not exhaustion.
Just exertion.
He straightened and rolled his shoulders.
"Starting to look like you'll pass out any second," he muttered, glancing at the cultist.
The cultist leaned against a tree.
Breathing heavier than before.
Not collapsing.
But close.
He waved a hand weakly.
"No need to worry, my lord. I am fine."
Draven turned toward him.
"Don't give a shit."
Flat.
Direct.
The cultist stiffened slightly.
Draven continued.
"How many more times can you attract beasts?"
The cultist swallowed.
"Once more."
Aldric groaned.
"Of course."
He gestured toward the scattered bodies.
"That was the second wave in this area. If he pulls again, we'll get another rush."
Draven's expression didn't change.
"Good."
Aldric blinked.
"Good?"
"Yes."
The cultist hesitated.
"My lord… if I consume a mana recovery potion, I can perform the disturbance twice more."
Aldric stared.
"Twice?"
"Yes."
"Meaning three total?"
The cultist nodded.
"If I rest between."
Aldric laughed low.
"You're going to kill yourself."
The cultist straightened slightly.
"I will manage."
Bad answer.
Aldric's brows lowered.
"You look like you're about to drop."
The cultist forced a small smile.
"I am stronger than I appear."
Aldric scoffed.
"Sure you are."
Draven stepped closer.
The cultist stiffened instinctively.
Draven looked at him.
"I don't need you dead."
The cultist blinked.
"My lord?"
"You're useful alive."
The cultist exhaled in relief.
"Yes."
Draven's gaze narrowed slightly.
"But if you slow us—"
The implication hung there.
The cultist swallowed.
"I will not slow you."
Draven studied him.
Not with sympathy.
Not with concern.
With calculation.
Useful or not.
Weakness was liability.
Aldric crossed his arms.
"So we're going to keep going."
Draven nodded.
"Yes."
The cultist straightened.
"I can continue."
Aldric raised an eyebrow.
"Okay?"
Draven turned away.
"Then do it."
The cultist hesitated.
"My lord… now?"
Draven stopped.
"Yes."
Aldric sighed.
"Here we go."
The cultist reached into his satchel.
A small vial emerged—pale blue liquid shimmering faintly.
Mana recovery.
He uncorked it and drank.
The effect was immediate.
His posture straightened.
Color returned to his face.
Breathing steadied.
Not fully recovered.
But functional.
Aldric watched.
"Well, that's something."
The cultist nodded.
"I can perform the disturbance again."
Draven glanced at him.
"Alright."
A pause.
"No excuses."
The cultist swallowed.
"Yes, my lord."
He extended his hands.
Mana rippled outward.
A small fluctuation.
Enough to irritate local creatures.
Not strong.
Just a signal.
The forest answered.
Rustling.
Growls.
Movement.
Aldric groaned.
"Here we go again."
Draven drew his bow.
No hesitation.
No complaints.
If beasts came—
They would fall.
And their crystals would be taken.
No waste.
No delay.
Progress.