Ryven examines the remains. The creature fell at the mouth of the bridge, merely a few feet from the ravine. A black liquid puddled around its body, staining the moonstone below. The corpse was motionless, yet without eyes seemed to look even more menacing.
"What a waste," Silas muttered. "We can't even eat any of that." He said, referring to the creatures outer moonstone layer.
"Do we gain anything from this?" Abel asks, "Do they drop cores like in games and Webnovels?"
"That's actually a good question," Ryven responded. "Do we gain anything from this?" He asked Silas, "like a reward or mob drop?"
"Well," Silas began, "some creatures have special attributes such as scales, bones, and tastier meat which could be harvested and sold to those interested in such things such as blacksmiths and the like who can use their powers to craft great pieces that are usually better then what we can summon ourselves. You for example can't seem to summon your own armor yet, so you might need get one from a blacksmith before you could summon your own."
"Ah." Ryven mutters, looking down at his naked body. He forgot he was still only wearing a pair of orange boxers.
"Here actually," Silas said suddenly, summoning a rift to his own expanse. "I probably should've given you this before the battle, but I suppose you've definitely earned it now." He stepped back, pulling out pieces of what seemed like armor.
At first, it didn't seem that striking. It seemed like a patchwork of dark, tarnished silver plates that had clearly seen better days. Strips of dangled cloth hanged off at various points as if the armor contained a mummy.
They dangled in uneven lengths, frayed at every edge, fluttering slightly even in the still silence of the bridge as though the armor itself carried a restless energy. Some strips had been torn so severely they were barely threads, clinging to the metal by what seemed like stubbornness alone.
Yet as Ryven stared deeper, that same dark silver looked so beautiful to him as it shimmered in the light. There was something about it that he just couldn't quite put his finger on.
"How do you get this?" He asked.
Silas smiled. "When I first became a dreamer, I bought this piece of armor by selling my house in the real world, purchasing it for $15000 UCD. It wasn't the best even back then, but it should fare you fine until your able to summon your own armor. Plus, it's value has been reduced so much, I doubt I could even sell it for over a thousand now."
"I see," Ryven muttered, eagerly trying the armor on.
'I finally have some sort of clothing other than these damned boxers!'
The armor was a big in some places, and smaller in others. It's clear that it wasn't fit for him, yet it was so torn and raggedy, it honestly didn't even matter.
Abel sat on the floor, examining Ryven in his new armor. "You look like a bum."
Ryven didn't respond.
He just spun back toward Silas who was now staring off the bridge into the ravine below.
"Shall we continue?"
…
The duo, or trio depending on how you look at it continued treading forward for a long while. Hours passed as moon dust continued flying upward beneath their feet.
Eventually, the sun rose in the real world, signaling the end of their time together. Ryven was familiar with this feeling; it was akin to being exhausted in the real world, but here, he felt it in his peculiar dreamer facade on the moon. Silas assured him that this was normal and that it was the way they would return to the real world.
The trio sat in a deep crater, each taking a side to lay/lean on.
"Be back by 11:30 pm EST or else I'll leave you." The old man had told him.
"That's a bit harsh, no?" Ryven questioned.
Silas chuckled. "I'm on a time crunch. I need to reach Dustreach, with or without you, so if you don't show up, you and that little ghost of yours are on your own."
Ryven sighs. "Don't worry. I'll be here."
As Ryven's eyes close, it's as if his soul travelled back to earth as the sounds of traffic and hospital work fills his ears. Today, he would be extremely busy.