Riley finally looked up from the glowing vial in her hands, one brow arching behind soot-speckled goggles. Her hair was pulled into a fraying bun, and faint scorch marks painted the sleeves of her coat. "What do you need dynamite for? Are you planning a heist or something?"
Max didn't smile. He rested his hand on the counter, fingers drumming once before going still. "Thinking of ways to improve my fighting."
Riley blinked. The bubbling mixture behind her hissed like it didn't approve.
"Right…" she said, slowly setting the flask down on a rack that had seen better days. "You know, most people ask for stamina tonics or mana restoratives. Not…controlled explosions."
Max shrugged. "Most people don't fight the way I do.""Right…" Riley said, adjusting her goggles with a snap of her glove. "Well, I have the stuff to make dynamite. Standard mix. Old world chemistry."
Max leaned forward slightly. "Is there any way I can make the explosion more powerful?"
Riley paused, then grinned—sharp and crooked. The kind of smile that meant you were either about to learn something brilliant or die in the process.
"There's a gland," she said, tapping the side of her head. "From a Scorchbelly Drakelar. Mid-tier monster. Lives in volcanic zones, feeds on sulfur deposits. It has this… combustion sac in its throat. Pressurized. When agitated, it ruptures. Violently."
She pulled a stained notebook from the clutter and flipped to a page full of jagged sketches and alchemical annotations.
"Mix powdered gland residue into the dynamite paste—boom radius triples. Fire radius doubles. It's unstable, though."
She looked at Max. "Still want it?"
'That would be perfect,' Max thought, the image already forming in his head—dagger slicing through, followed by a delayed burst of fire and pressure. Precision layered with chaos.
"Of course," Max said aloud, keeping his voice even.
Riley gave him a long look, then chuckled. "It'll be pretty expensive. Not a lot of people lining up to harvest monster glands for fun."
"Won't be a problem."
She raised an eyebrow. "Look at you. Acting all cool."
Max blinked, realizing how it sounded. "Oh—sorry. Wasn't trying to be. That was kinda cringey."
Riley burst out laughing. "At least you're self-aware. Most people just double down."
Riley disappeared into the back, the clinking of glass and rustle of parchment echoing faintly through the shop.
Max stood there, hands in his pockets, heat rising to his face.
He stared at the shelves for a moment—elixirs shaped like arteries and half-melted armor pieces glowing with residual magic. Anything to not think about how awkward that sounded.
Riley returned a minute later, dropping a small padded tray on the counter. Eight blistered, orange-red glands shimmered under the alchemical light, like pearls soaked in napalm.
"This should be enough for a hundred sticks," she said, brushing soot from her fingers.
Max leaned in. The things pulsed faintly, like they still remembered fire. "Guess it doesn't take a lot of the residue."
"Barely any," Riley confirmed. "You could pour more in, but that wouldn't end well for you. You'd get caught in the blast. The stuff doesn't discriminate." She tapped a finger against the side of her goggles. "Boom is boom."
Max nodded, eyeing the glands. They looked alive—like they'd twitch if he reached for them too fast.
"How long would it take to make them?" he asked, glancing up at Riley.
She shrugged, already pulling out a stained notebook and flipping through diagrams. Each page looked more chaotic than the last—half-recipes, sketched-out mechanisms, a burnt fingerprint in the corner of one. "Depends how fancy you want to get. Straight sticks with a fuse? A day. Pressure-triggered? Two. Add directional force, timers, monster-detecting charms... longer. A week, maybe."
Max rubbed his jaw, thinking. "Just the basic version. Fuse and all. Clean and simple."
"Respectable." She snapped the book shut with a puff of alchemical dust. "I'll need to bind the glands into the powder without degrading their... volatility. Not hard, just annoying."
"I can pay extra if you rush it," Max offered.
Riley laughed through her nose. "You keep talking like you've got gold pouring out of your pockets."
"I got the means."
That earned him a real look—just a flicker, but her curiosity sparked behind the soot and goggles. She didn't ask, though. Professionals didn't pry unless they needed to.
Instead, she nodded. "Alright. Come back tomorrow, same time. I'll have a prototype ready. We'll test it outside city limits."
Max gave a small nod. "Thanks, Riley."
She waved him off as she turned to her workbench. "Don't thank me until it doesn't blow your leg off."
Max waved goodbye, the door's bell giving a half-hearted chime behind him as he stepped out into the sunlight.
Smoke bombs were next. Something to disappear behind. Something theatrical but functional. He didn't just want to kill efficiently. He wanted control. The kind that came with vision when no one else could see.
He merged into the crowd, footsteps steady, thoughts already skipping ahead to the next shop.