By the time the flames had died and the smoke had cleared, the scent of charred flesh and scorched earth still lingered in the cave like a ghost refusing to leave. The heat had softened the rocky walls, and steam hissed faintly from the damp ground.
Henry wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed the battlefield. The bodies of the massive burrowing worms sprawled across the cavern floor like dark, glistening logs. There were more than he could count at a glance — their blackened shells gleaming faintly under the dim magical light that still floated above his hand.
Kegan, standing beside him, gave a low whistle, his beard still patchy from the earlier fire. "By Moradin's molten beard… would ye look at that," he said, voice raspy but proud. "If we don't strike gold from this, I'll eat me helmet."
Henry chuckled. "Let's make sure the worms are truly dead before you start planning your menu."
The two spent the next hour counting the dead. They lost track once or twice — the bodies lay tangled and stacked atop one another, melted together in places where the fire had burned hottest. In total, they found twenty of the beasts, each at least the size of a horse, their once-glossy carapaces now dulled by soot and burns. The largest of them — the queen worm, perhaps — had not emerged from the depths. It still lurked somewhere below, waiting.
Unfortunately, that meant this job wasn't over yet.
"Looks like the big one didn't take the bait," Henry muttered, nudging a carcass with his boot.
Kegan snorted. "Aye, the fat ones never do. Always lettin' their brood die first. Reminds me o' noble lords."
Henry grinned at that, but the humor didn't last. What followed next was grueling, backbreaking work.
Henry, being the lighter and quicker of the two, went around tying thick ropes around the worms' bodies. The smell was revolting — burnt chitin and boiled flesh — and more than once he had to pause to keep from gagging. Kegan, meanwhile, took the other end of each rope and hauled them up the slope one by one, muscles straining beneath his armor.
Each worm weighed nearly eight hundred pounds, and though the cave's entrance was sloped, it still required all of the Dwarf's strength — and a good deal of Henry's magic-enhanced leverage — to drag them free.
By the time the last one was hauled up, both were drenched in sweat and breathing hard. Kegan dropped to the ground with a groan, his armor clinking. "Hah… we're rich, little Henry!" he said, his voice echoing into the fading light. "Aye, richer than a gnome banker at tax time!"
Henry smiled tiredly, sitting beside him. "We might be rich, yes. But there's still the matter of peeling all these shells."
Kegan looked up, his soot-streaked face breaking into a grin. "Bah, that's easy work. We'll get help from the villagers. Just a clean slice down the belly, nothin' fancy. We'll take the heads and the backs — that's where the shell's thickest and toughest. The rest o' the limbs? Those'll do for armor. Let the villagers have 'em as payment. They'll work twice as fast if they think they're gettin' somethin' out o' it."
Henry blinked, slightly impressed. For all the Dwarf's gruff talk and fondness for ale, Kegan had the mind of a seasoned adventurer — practical, resourceful, and shrewd. He could turn any scrap into opportunity.
"You've done this before," Henry said with a faint smile.
The Dwarf chuckled. "Boy, I've been huntin' beasts since before yer grandpappy was out o' swaddlin' cloth. A Dwarf learns quick — not all treasure's found in gold. Sometimes it's in the hides, the bones, or the fat. Every bit o' a monster's worth somethin' to someone."
Henry nodded, taking note of that wisdom.
"Alright," he said at last, pushing himself to his feet. "You rest here for a while and guard the spoils. I'll go see Brown — maybe he can help us hire a few hands. You did most of the heavy lifting anyway."
Kegan waved him off lazily, already pulling out a wineskin. "Aye, go on then. I'll keep an eye on the worms — and maybe have meself a drink while I'm at it. Call it hazard pay."
Henry shook his head, smiling, and picked up his crossbow. His arms ached from hours of work, but he pressed on. The road to Brown's farm wasn't far, maybe a half-hour walk at most.
The world outside was cooler now. Evening mist had begun to roll in across the fields, carrying the scent of wild herbs and distant rain. Fireflies danced along the roadside, and the faint hoot of an owl echoed through the valley.
By the time Henry reached the Brown farm, his boots were coated in dust and his throat dry. He pushed open the wooden gate and called out, "Mr. Brown! Are you there?"
A voice shouted from behind the house, gruff and familiar. "I'm out back, lad! Tidyin' the tools. What brings ye here this time o' night?"
Henry followed the sound and found the farmer — a broad-shouldered man in his fifties with sun-tanned skin and a permanent squint from years in the sun.
"We've got a job," Henry said between breaths. "Kegan and I cleared out a nest of burrowing worms in the western caves. Twenty, maybe more. We need help harvesting the shells — we only need the heads and backs. The leg carapaces we're offering as payment to any villagers who'll lend a hand."
Brown froze, blinking. "Twenty?" His jaw dropped. "You're jestin', lad. Twenty burrowers? In one day?"
Henry leaned against the fence, smiling faintly. "I wish I were joking. Each one's about eight hundred pounds, and dragging them up nearly killed us. I think Kegan's beard has aged another century."
The farmer let out a long whistle. "Gods above… the shell from one o' those could make two fine suits of armor. You've got enough there to equip a militia!"
Henry shrugged. "Then you'd better start gathering your militia. We'll need strong backs and sharp knives. You know the western cave, yes?"
"Of course," Brown replied, already thinking it over. "I grew up runnin' around those hills. Half the village knows the spot. I'll take me wagon into town, get a few lads who can work a blade without cuttin' themselves. We'll be there by dawn."
"Perfect," Henry said, relief in his voice. "I'll rest here for a while before heading back. Kegan's guarding the haul — and probably half-drunk by now."
Brown laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Aye, sounds like every Dwarf I've met. I'll get movin' then. The faster we strip those beasts, the faster we can all profit."
He disappeared into the stable, hitching up his horse and cart with practiced speed. Within minutes, the wheels creaked over the dirt path as he set off toward the village.
Henry watched him go, the sound of hooves fading into the quiet countryside. Then, with a sigh of exhaustion, he dropped into a chair by the farmhouse door.
The evening air was cool and still, the stars just beginning to pierce the darkening sky. He leaned back, rubbing his sore shoulders. "A good day's work," he murmured.
Then, focusing his mind, he lifted his hand — and the faint glow of an arcane interface shimmered into view before his eyes. The numbers and runes danced softly in the air.
He smiled. "Let's see how much experience all that sweat earned us."
\\
Name: Henry
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 14
Alignment: Neutral
Occupations
Primary Class: Mage – Level 1
Experience: 10813 / 2,500
Secondary Class: Druid – Level 1
Experience: 10812 / 2,000
Attributes
Strength: 14
Agility: 18
Physical Fitness: 13
Intelligence: 21
Wisdom: 18
Charm: 16
Arcane Abilities
Spell Slots (Arcane): 1 Slot
Spell Slots (Divine): 3 Slots
You have leveled up.
You have accepted a quest to clear the Earthworm Cave and eliminate all of them (20 out of 25).
\\
After mentally chanting "Level Up," the panel changed.
Mage Level 4 (1/3000), Druid Level 4 (10812/12500)
1st-level spell slots: 3
2nd-level spell slots: 2
1st-level divine spell slots: 5
2nd-level divine spell slots: 4
New 2nd-level divine spells learned: Protection from Energy (Fire and Cold), Flame Blade, Flame Trap, Slow Poison, Discern Lies, Goodberry, Barkskin, Find Traps, Cure Moderate Wounds, Charm Person or Animal.
\\
Henry could feel the difference immediately after the surge of experience settled in his veins. The faint shimmer of arcane light that pulsed around his hands was brighter, steadier—his mana pool had deepened, his senses sharper. It was as if his very blood hummed with power.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the exhilarating rush of advancement. "So this is what leveling up feels like," he murmured, smiling faintly. "Stronger, sharper… hungrier."
There was a saying among adventurers: a man doesn't grow rich without fortune's windfall, and a horse doesn't grow fat without fine grass. It felt truer now than ever. But as the euphoria of advancement faded, practical reality hit him.
Despite unlocking a new spell slot—his first for a Level 2 spell—he didn't actually have a single one. Not a scroll, not a formula, nothing. Each Level 2 spell scroll cost at least a gold coin or more depending on rarity, and that was before factoring in the mage's markup or arcane licensing from local guilds.
Henry sighed. "Even if I make ten thousand gold coins from this job," he muttered, "I still won't be able to buy much. Magic's a bottomless pit for gold."
It was the same across nearly every world touched by the Weave—magic wasn't just power, it was luxury. To be a spellcaster was to burn gold as fuel for your will. The dwarves mined, the elves composed poetry and sang to stars, but mages… mages bled their purses dry in pursuit of knowledge.
With nothing else to do, Henry sat by the window, sipping water and watching the fields stretch toward the horizon. His mind was still buzzing with calculations—spells, reagents, and the next step toward greater power.
Not long after, the rhythmic clatter of hooves pulled him from his thoughts. Four carriages rolled up outside, the sunlight glinting off polished wood. Brown's voice echoed from below.
"Henry! Come on out, lad! We'll lose the light if we wait much longer!"
Henry jumped up, set his cup down, and hurried outside. "Coming!"
He leapt into the nearest carriage as Brown cracked the reins. The horses neighed and the wagons jolted forward, bumping down the dusty road in a column. The smell of leather, hay, and oil filled the air as the men laughed and chatted on the way.