Klaus lay sprawled on the sand.
Klaus lay sprawled on the sand. The desert around him still steamed faintly, the crater warm beneath his back, ash drifting lazily in the air.
He groaned.
Slowly. Dramatically.
"Oh, come on," he muttered, his voice thin but irritatingly calm. "Can you be a bit gentler there?"
Right on cue, a transparent panel blinked into existence above his face, hovering at an angle that felt almost intentional—close enough to read, far enough to mock him.
You've killed Level 237 Sand Wyrm.
Congratulations. You have earned 162,899,001 experience.
You obtained: Morning Star.
You obtained: Armlet of the Dragonkin.
You obtained: Desert Fang.
Klaus squinted at it, then let out a weak chuckle. "Huh. At least it paid rent."
A few steps away, Kiel stood frozen.
He stared at the panel.
Then, the colossal corpse of the sand wyrm sprawled across the desert. Then back at Klaus.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
No words came out.
Ulon, meanwhile, scoffed loudly, as if silence offended him. He knelt beside Klaus, both hands pressed firmly against Klaus's ruined torso.
"How gentle do you want me to be?" Ulon said, shaking his head. "I'm literally just putting my hands on you."
He leaned back slightly, eyes sweeping over Klaus's condition—charred skin, torn armor, one arm missing entirely, and legs that were… generously absent.
"You're lucky you're alive."
Klaus tilted his head just enough to look at Ulon, squinting up at the sky beyond him.
"Bad grass," he said weakly, "lives last. Am I right?"
Ulon blinked.
Then he snorted. "So what, you're saying I die first because I'm a man of God?"
Klaus's lips twitched. "You may be a priest," he replied smoothly, "but I never said you're good."
There was a brief pause.
Then Ulon burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained, the sound echoing across the crater. "Fair enough!"
The golden glow intensified. Beneath the surface of Klaus's arm stump and legs, muscle fibers stretched and reformed. Bone grew back inch by inch, painfully visible under thin layers of regenerating flesh. Klaus's jaw tightened as a sharp hiss escaped him.
"…Damn it," he muttered. "Is it really supposed to hurt this much?"
"Oh, absolutely," Ulon said cheerfully. "Pain, itching, crawling sensation—that's your bones and nerves reconstructing. It's actually a very good sign. Means your nervous system is still working fine."
Klaus groaned. "I feel so reassured."
Another transparent panel flickered into existence near his chest.
Initializing Reaver's Graver.
Do you wish to proceed?
Yes / No
Klaus lifted a trembling finger and tried to tap Yes.
Ulon slapped his hand away.
"That can wait," Ulon said flatly. "Heal first."
"Tyrant," Klaus muttered.
Kiel finally found his voice. He crouched a few steps away, eyes wide with a mix of fascination and horror. "Uh… why not just use a red potion?"
Ulon froze.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head toward Kiel.
"…Seriously, kid?"
Kiel shrank back a little. "I mean—just asking."
Ulon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought nothing could be worse than you missing every other shot," he said tiredly, "but this? This surpasses my imagination."
Klaus chuckled despite himself, which immediately earned him another sharp wince. "Careful," he said weakly. "He's still learning."
Kiel blinked between them, genuinely confused. "Did I… say something wrong?"
Ulon sighed and pointed at Klaus's regenerating leg. "Subjugator 101. Red potions heal wounds. They don't regenerate lost limbs. Healing skills do both."
Kiel stared. "…Oh."
Ulon raised an eyebrow. "How did you pass your rank-up exam?"
Kiel scratched his cheek. "Uh… multiple choice?"
Klaus laughed again, weaker this time, but genuine. "Don't be too hard on him."
He turned his head slightly toward Kiel. "Hey, kid. You want a gun, right?"
Kiel's eyes lit up instantly. "You have one?"
"Something suitable," Klaus replied calmly.
He paused, then added, "You've got a high mana reserve, don't you?"
Kiel nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Thirty-seven thousand mana points. Regeneration rate's fifty per second. Why?"
Ulon choked. "Thirty-seven—what?"
He stared at Kiel like he had just confessed to eating rocks for breakfast. "Is there anything worse you're hiding? Even Shalotte only has twenty-five thousand. Did you dump everything into intelligence?"
Kiel nodded again.
Ulon facepalmed. Hard. "Of course you did."
Klaus sighed. "Next time, put some points into dexterity, kid. A powerful attack doesn't mean much if it never hits."
"I already told him that," Ulon grumbled.
Klaus smiled faintly. "Maybe he'll listen to me more."
Ulon snorted. "I hope so."
Klaus shifted slightly, wincing as nerves reconnected. He looked at Kiel again. "I'll give you a gun. But I want something in return."
Kiel leaned forward. "Gold?"
"No," Klaus said. "I want you to collect all the wyrm's scales."
Kiel turned slowly toward the corpse.
There were hundreds. Maybe thousands.
"…All of them?" he asked weakly.
"Do you want a gun?" Klaus replied calmly.
"Yes."
"Then collect the scales. Don't worry—it's easier now. There's an opening. Start at the throat."
Kiel let out a long, dramatic sigh, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the entire desert had suddenly decided to sit on them. Still, he trudged toward the wyrm anyway, boots dragging through the sand as he muttered complaints that only the wind bothered to listen to.
Klaus watched him go for a moment, eyes half-lidded, expression relaxed despite the fact that half his body had been recently missing. He then turned his head slightly toward Ulon.
"He just needs guidance," Klaus said casually.
Ulon nodded slowly, arms crossing over his chest. "I know," he replied. "But we shouldn't be too soft on him. If we are, he might end up spoiled."
Klaus smiled faintly, a quiet curve at the corner of his lips. "Better spoiled than dead," he said. "What do you think?"
Ulon opened his mouth to answer—then stopped.
He didn't say anything.
The desert grew quieter as the minutes passed. The wind carried the faint metallic scraping of Kiel prying scales loose from the wyrm's corpse.
Ulon remained focused on his work. The golden light around his hands dimmed as the worst of the damage finished healing. Bones had fully reformed, nerves reconnected, and muscle fibers settled back into place. The process had been slow and painful, judging by Klaus's occasional sharp breaths and clenched jaw.
Now, it was only skin left.
Fresh flesh slowly knit together, pale and tender, sealing over old wounds. The glow softened, becoming more precise, almost gentle.
Ulon exhaled in relief.
Then he noticed something that made his brows knit together.
As Klaus's wrist finished healing, scars remained.
They weren't the usual kind. Not straight cuts, not jagged tears, not burns. The scars wrapped all the way around his wrist in uneven, layered bands, as if something had once bound him there—tight enough to dig deep, long enough to leave memory in the flesh.
Ulon's eyes widened slightly.
He moved to Klaus's ankle.
The same thing.
Circular scars. Old. Deep. Too deliberate.
Ulon frowned. "Where did you get this?"
Klaus didn't look at him. He stared up at the sky, watching thin clouds drift lazily past, his voice flat and unbothered.
"Accident."
Ulon snorted softly. "That's not an accident."
Klaus shrugged, or at least tried to. His movement was stiff, still sore. "Life's full of them."
Ulon opened his mouth, ready to push further—but before he could, a voice echoed across the crater.
"I'M DONE!"
Both of them turned.
Kiel stood a short distance away, chest heaving, arms trembling as he pointed proudly behind him.
Behind Kiel was a mountain of metallic scales.
Scales of different sizes and shapes lay piled together in a chaotic heap, reflecting the sunlight in dull bronze and steel hues. Some were cracked, some chipped, and some still warm to the touch.
Kiel wiped sweat from his brow and grinned. "I got all of them. I think. Probably."
Klaus forced himself upright with a quiet grunt, planting one hand into the sand for support. His movements were slow but controlled, pain carefully hidden behind a calm expression.
He glanced at Ulon. "Thanks."
Ulon studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You're welcome."
He paused, then added more seriously, "You did well."
Klaus smiled, just a little.