The walk back to the shaman's corpse was unnervingly quiet. The forest around me felt different—like it was holding its breath, shadows stretching longer as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  Hope you get some nice loot.

  I kept my steps light and my grip on the kitten firm. Tucked snugly into my collar, the little furball purred softly one moment, then hissed low the next. Her tiny ears flattened as we approached the darkened clearing where the shaman had fallen.

  "Easy there," I murmured, glancing down at my furry companion. "He's dead. There's nothing to worry about."

  The kitten didn't seem convinced. She hissed again, her small body tensing as the dead shaman came into view. A pang of guilt twisted in my gut as I recalled what the little furball must have witnessed—her mother was probably the one who was sacrificed to fuel that bastard's twisted ritual.

  "Yeah," I muttered, crouching slightly to pet the kitten's head. "I'd hate the fucker too. But it's over now. He's not hurting anyone anymore."

  The kitten growled softly, amber eyes locked on the shaman's mutilated body. For a moment, the little furball seemed ready to leap from my collar and claw at the corpse. I quickly placed a calming hand over the tiny creature.

  "Hey, hey, no need for that," I said, my tone softer. "He's nothing but a sack of meat now… rotting meat. Let it go, buddy."

  The kitten's growl faded into a low, mournful sound. After a tense moment, she burrowed deeper into my armor, her tiny body trembling.

  "See rest now; we’ll have some amazing things for dinner," I said quietly, turning my attention to the shaman. I patted the kitten absentmindedly as it nestled against my chest, slowly calming down.

  The first thing I noticed was the color of the corpse's skin. Unlike the sickly green of the other goblins, the shaman's flesh was a dull, mottled blue. Tattoos crisscrossed its limbs and torso, dark ink patterns etched deep into leathery skin.

  "Tribal markings? Or some sort of runes…" I murmured, crouching beside the body. "Most probably…a way to channel power and commune with the spirits they worship. Too bad it didn't save your sorry ass; guess you weren’t their favorite."

  I tilted my head, eyes narrowing at the intricate markings. The shaman's face was an unrecognizable mess, smashed in from the final blow I had landed. Its empty eyes stared blankly at the canopy above, a macabre reminder of the brutality we had both unleashed.

  Shaking off the unsettling sight, I focused on the real prize: the shaman's staff. It lay just a few feet away, half-buried in the dirt. Reaching out, I picked it up, brushing away clumps of dried blood and soil.

  The shaft was made of sturdy, gnarled wood, wrapped in strips of worn leather and decorated with small beads and feathers. But it was the skull affixed to the top that drew my attention. White and cracked, it radiated an eerie presence. The hollow eye sockets seemed to pulse faintly, a lingering echo of the dark magic it had wielded.

  "No enchantments on the wood," I muttered, running my fingers along the shaft. My gaze returned to the skull. "But this... this is something else."

  Even without using Exira, I could feel the faint hum from the threads of blood essence tied to the artifact. It resonated with me; no, it resonated with the blood essence, and I knew its function without even appraising it.

  "It's a blood storage!" I said aloud, a grin spreading across my face. "And a shit ton, so I can use this as a battery to store blood… man raining blood arrows on my enemies… hundreds… no thousands of arrows… holy"

  I’ll run some tests with it later…also need to check out what my new essence is and what it can do…wish there were a game sheet-type system…

  I tested its weight, giving the staff a short swing before shaking my head. "Not my style, though. Too clunky. But a phenomenal find," I shoved it into my spatial ring with a satisfied smirk.

  The kitten poked her head out, giving a low, curious meow.

  "Oh, did my excitement rub off on you too?" I said, scratching its ears. "We're just getting started, buddy; I won’t let you be gloomy, and in return, you will be my ESF…emotional support Furball." I laughed and shook my head as I began a more thorough search. My eyes landed on a bundle of rolled-up parchment tucked under the cloak it was wearing. The scrolls were bound with a frayed ribbon, edges yellowed with age. I untied the ribbon and peeked at the contents—unfamiliar symbols and diagrams, none of which I recognized.

  "Probably ritual stuff," I muttered, stowing the scrolls in my ring. "I'll deal with it later."

  Next, I found a book resting near the shaman's side. Its dark leather cover was cracked and hardened with age, runes etched into its surface glowing faintly. Flipping it open, I scowled at the foreign script filling its pages.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Of course it's in a language I can't fucking read," I said, snapping the book shut. Still, something about the runes made my instincts tingle. I stored the book alongside the scrolls.

  My fingers brushed against something hard and smooth in the shaman's inner pocket as a shiver went through my body. I knew this feeling.

  Pulling it out, I held up a small, ancient-looking key.

  "First quest piece," I murmured, turning it over in my hand. The wooden key was surprisingly well-preserved, its surface carved with tiny, intricate designs. A faint sense of purpose radiated from it, setting my nerves alight.

  "Thank you…at least there is something in my memories that has proven to be true," I said, a grin widening. "Haahaa…I can trust my memories now at least…" I stored the key.

  The shaman's cloak caught my attention next. I tugged it off the corpse, shaking it free of dirt and blood. The material was heavier than expected; the inner lining was embroidered with faint symbols.

  "Definitely enchanted," I muttered, running my fingers along the fabric. "But with what, exactly?" I folded the cloak and stored it away, pondering the possibilities.

  As I removed the cloak, my eyes landed on a small dagger strapped to the shaman's waist. The blade was sleek and wickedly sharp, the hilt wrapped in worn leather. Picking it up, I felt a faint pulse of blood essence coursing through it.

  "Bingo," I said with a grin, holding the dagger up to the light. "Another enchanted piece. And it's another artifact linked to my essence."

  Kitty let out a soft meow, her tiny nose twitching as she sniffed the blade, and a jolt went through me as I remembered it was the same dagger that the shaman used to kill…

  "Don't worry," I said, quickly tucking the dagger into my belt. "Probably some random junk; no need to look, furball."

  The kitten gave a final, defiant hiss at the body before curling up against my chest. Her tiny form trembled slightly, but the steady warmth of my hand on its back seemed to calm her.

  "Yeah, I get it," I said softly, scratching behind its ears. "Screw this guy. Let's go find something less depressing."

  "And something edible," I said, breaking the silence.

  meow~

  "Don't start," I shot back, smirking. "You've been freeloading this whole time, you little... Haaa,... How about you find me something to eat for a change?"

  The kitty purred smugly, nestling deeper into my collar. I rolled my eyes, but my smile lingered as I stepped into the growing darkness, thoughts already turning to the next challenge.

  I was halfway back to the woods when a prickling sensation crept up my spine. Something was off. I paused, glancing over my shoulder toward the area where I'd fought that twisted monster. The clearing sat silent, but the feeling was as if I were missing something.

  Little furball meowed softly in protest as I turned and began walking back.

  "I know, I know," I said. "But I've got a bad feeling about leaving that shit unchecked."

  The air grew heavier with each step, a suffocating weight settling over me. The ground beneath my boots shifted from firm soil to darker, almost sticky mud. The corruption from the fight had seeped into the land itself, tainting everything it touched. Trees at the edge of the clearing looked sickly, their leaves drooping and tinged with black.

  "This better be good," I muttered, the sensation of rot clinging to my skin like an invisible film. I channeled Exira at level 1, feeling the suppression disappear.

  "It's like the land's dead," I murmured. "Whatever corruption that monster carried, it's still here, leeching life out of everything, just like what Aunt Nora told me… in my memories."

  Furball hissed softly, retreating further into my collar. Her little face peeked out just enough to glare at the ground ahead, clearly sharing my distaste.

  "Yeah, it's gross, buddy," I said. "We won't stick around long."

  Just as I was about to turn and leave, something caught my eye. Near the edge of the clearing, a small piece of flesh lay in the dirt—torn and twisted, unmistakably alien. My stomach churned as recognition hit me.

  "Oh, you've got to be shitting me," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "That's... that's the thing's face. The part I..."

  My words trailed off, jaw tightening as the memory of biting into the monster's face flashed uninvited through my mind. The taste, the texture—it all came rushing back, and for a moment, I genuinely thought I might gag.

  "Ugh…Fuuuuck," I muttered, taking a shaky breath to steady myself. Furball let out a questioning meow.

  "Yeah, laugh it up, furball," I said, glaring half-heartedly. "I didn't see you stepping up to help."

  Shaking my head, I approached the piece of flesh, Exira extended in front of me. Even without touching it, I could feel the unnatural energy radiating from the chunk. Faint but persistent, like a dying ember refusing to extinguish.

  Using the blade, I prodded the flesh, turning it over. The sight didn't help my queasy stomach—a mangled eye, still intact, sat embedded in the meat.

  "Oh, come on," I muttered, pulling back as my nose wrinkled in disgust. The eye was cloudy and misshapen, but it pulsed faintly, as if it were still trying to see.

  "Apart from a personal grudge," I told myself, forcing down the urge to retch. "This is still part of a monster from beyond and an incredible item for enchanting and artificing."

  Taking a deep breath, I focused my energy and wrapped the flesh in Exira's aura. The blade glowed softly as the flesh resisted for a moment, then finally succumbed to containment.

  "Fucking thing's still alive, kind of," I muttered, storing the flesh and the attached eye into my spatial ring. I isolated it within the ring's containment field, ready to eject it if it caused trouble. "At least it's dormant for now."

  A sharp meow; clearly, someone is impatient to leave.

  "Yes, yes," I said, standing and brushing off my knees. "We're getting out of here. I don't want to be here any longer than you do."

  She meowed again, more insistently, as if scolding me.

  "And yes," I added with a smirk, "we'll eat better food. I'm not making monster-flesh stew or anything."

  The kitten purred softly, its tiny body relaxing as I turned and headed back toward the woods. The oppressive weight of the corrupted clearing faded with each step, replaced by the more natural sounds of the forest.

  Gods, I swear, she thinks she owns me or something…

  The sky had darkened to deep indigo, stars beginning to peek through the canopy. I moved quickly, my eyes scanning for a suitable place to camp.

  Meanwhile, the little kitten swiped playfully at my jaw, tiny claws pricking my skin just enough to make me flinch.

  "Oi!" I yelped, jerking my head back. "You little bastard! I saved your life, remember?"

  Furball let out a soft, amused mrrp, then nuzzled against my neck as if to apologize.

  "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. "You're lucky you're cute."

  HOUSE OF END DISCORD

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