The stew simmered happily in JP's humming Self-Boiling Pot, the scent of herbs and boar meat curling into the cool night air. Lyra sat cross-legged by the fire, calmly cleaning her bowstring.
It wasn't long before two other adventurers from a nearby camp wandered closer, noses twitching like hungry hounds.
"Oi… what's that smell? You cookin' stew out here?" one of them asked, peering at the strange bronze pot.
JP shifted to block their view. "Just, uh, dinner."
"That's no ordinary cookpot." The taller adventurer licked his lips. "Our firewood's damp. Trade you coin for a bowl?"
JP froze. Selling the pot outright would scream invention. But… trading food? That was safe. Clever, even.
"Two silver for two bowls," JP said with a grin.
They grumbled, but soon enough silver clinked into his hand. JP ladled steaming stew into makeshift cups. The adventurers slurped it down greedily, sighing in bliss.
"Worth every coin," one admitted, wiping his beard. "If you ever make more of those pots, find me."
JP just smiled, tucking the silver away. Lyra gave him a side-glance, lips curving faintly. "You're turning into a merchant whether you like it or not."
The next morning, JP made good on that silver. The city blacksmith's forge was a hot, noisy cavern, sparks flying as apprentices hammered glowing steel. JP had brought along the Ironfang Tusks and a standard slime core under the excuse of "raw monster parts."
The blacksmith, a broad man with soot-stained arms, squinted at the tusks. "Bah. I've seen plenty of these. Too brittle for decent edgework."
JP, however, tapped the vein glinting faintly under the surface. His Material Insight II flashed in his mind: Conductive Ore Line – suitable for channeling mana.
"Actually," JP said carefully, "if you cut along this ridge and temper it right, it could reinforce lighter plating. Strong and mana-conductive."
The blacksmith's brow furrowed. "How'd you… see that?"
"Lucky guess." JP coughed, looking away.
The man snorted but nodded. "Fine. I'll try. What do you want out of it?"
An hour later, JP stood in front of a mirror, fidgeting in his new padded leather vest reinforced with tusk-lined plates.
"Looks good," the apprentice said cheerfully.
"It makes me look like a stuffed sausage," JP muttered.
Behind him, Lyra stifled a laugh. "At least the sausage won't die to the first arrow."
JP groaned.
For her, the blacksmith had fitted lightweight bracers polished smooth, perfect for quick bowwork. Lyra flexed her wrist, testing the balance, then gave a satisfied nod.
The bill was steep, but with JP's bartered silver and the discount for supplying tusks, they walked away lighter in coin but heavier in protection.
That night, JP fussed with the straps of his vest at camp. "I swear, if I sneeze too hard, this thing's going to pinch a rib."
Lyra smirked across the fire. "Then don't sneeze."
JP rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the grin. Between the pot, the trade, and their new armor, things finally felt like they were heading in the right direction.
Of course, neither of them noticed the shadow lurking by the treeline, watching every move they made.