The bad news is that I’ve already spent nearly half of my precious items. The good news is, the elf archer I had been waiting for is finally joining the battle.


    [Cinderbrew Vial used.]


    The elf''s arrows were engulfed in a bluish-red flame. Upon impact with the monster, a small explosion followed, releasing a cloud of thick black smoke. Burn marks scorched the body of the Gnoll Chieftain, leaving clear traces of fire across its fur.


    Cinderbrew Vial is an item designed to imbue weapons with fire attributes. The creatures inhabiting the Redridge Range have a notable weakness to fire, which is precisely why I gathered so many Red Nightshade and Emberfly — two key ingredients for both Flameburst Flask and Cinderbrew Vial. The problem is, I had carefully prepared these items as part of my future strategy. But as always, reality has a cruel way of turning plans upside down.


    Thirty minutes had passed, and the three of us were utterly exhausted. Thankfully, we had managed to deal a significant amount of damage to Mad-Eye Mordok — the name of the Gnoll Chieftain we were facing. Parts of his body were scorched, and one of his legs was severely wounded, leaving him limping with a pronounced limp. Suddenly, he raised both of his massive axes high above his head.


    “Dwarf, run!” I shouted with all the strength I could muster. Fortunately, the dwarf had already sensed the imminent danger and had started retreating even before I gave the command.


    [Windstride casted.]


    The dwarf’s speed surged dramatically, as if an invisible force was propelling him forward. Baaaam! The deafening sound of an axe slamming into the earth echoed through the air. The strike nearly grazed the dwarf, missing him by less than a few centimeters.


    A powerful gust of wind erupted from the impact, as though the very force of nature had been unleashed. We were all thrown backward, the sheer force of the wind tossing us aside. This was one of the instant-kill moves that could be found in the depths of Dreadspire—a brutal and unforgiving technique.


    Without missing a beat, the three of us sprang to our feet and launched ourselves back into the fray, attacking the Gnoll Chieftain with everything we had.


    [Piercing Arrow casted.]


    [Bastion Strike casted.]


    [Flameburst Flask used.]


    [Lightning Bolt casted.]


    [Shield Bash casted.]


    Mad-Eye Mordok howled in pain as the onslaught hit him. In a final act of desperation, he hurled both of his massive axes toward us.


    One of the axes flew off into the empty air, spinning out of control.


    The other, however, flew directly toward the elf’s head. Time seemed to slow down as I turned in horror, watching the deadly trajectory. My heart skipped a beat.


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    The elf narrowly dodged the incoming strike at the last possible moment, grinning and joking, "An axe thrown that slowly will never hit me."


    Swish. A dark streak of blood appeared across his upper body.


    "Darwyn!" the dwarf cried, rushing toward the elf in alarm. It turned out that Mordok had infused his final throw with the element of wind, using it to slice through the elf’s vulnerable form with an unnerving precision.


    [Rejuvenation casted.]


    [Low-rank Healing Potion used.]


    I quickly tended to the elf’s wounds, while the dwarf poured a low-level healing potion over him. I kept applying Rejuvenation, all the while monitoring his condition closely.


    Despite our desperate efforts to heal him, the blood kept pouring out. No matter how hard we tried, the wound refused to close.


    “Don’t you dare die on me, you stupid elf! You still owe me—a lot!” the dwarf shouted, his voice shaking.


    But there was no response.


    Three potions—gone. And still, no sign of improvement. I kept casting my spell on the motionless body.


    I could see it clearly now—the panic on the dwarf’s face, the sadness in his eyes. His lips pressed into a tight line, as if holding back tears.


    Minutes passed, heavy with tension.


    Then—movement.


    I froze, barely daring to hope. Slowly, I reached out to check.


    "The wounds are severe, and they’ve struck vital organs, but he should survive," I said calmly, though a hint of concern flickered beneath my words.


    “Hahaha, thank goodness,” the dwarf chuckled weakly, collapsing onto the ground beside the elf.


    ***


    "My name is Muradin Bromir, son of Thrain," he said with a chuckle.


    "Fangbone Scepter," I replied coldly.


    "Plus half of the Mana Stones and both Gnoll Tails."


    Confusion was evident on his face.


    In this world, druids were often underestimated and given the smallest share. On top of that, I had only joined the battle in its final phase. From my perspective, this was the perfect moment to negotiate. The elf was still unconscious, and the dwarf was riding high on adrenaline after a long, exhausting fight—too mentally drained to think clearly.


    "That''s too much, druid," the dwarf said, his expression hardening as his grin faded.


    "I''ve already used almost all of my precious consumables," I shot back.


    "And let''s not forget, I saved the elf not once, but twice," I continued, pressing the point. "Besides, you got Mordok''s Battleaxe — that should be more than enough."


    Mordok’s Battleaxe was a drop weapon from Mad-Eye Mordok, the Gnoll Chieftain, a named Field Boss from the Gnashfang Warrens. Weapons dropped by bosses always had much higher stats than regular weapons. What made this one particularly special was that it came with an active skill — a weaker version of the instant-kill attack that had almost ended the dwarf''s life.


    The dwarf fell silent for a moment, before responding, "You can take the scepter and all the monster parts. That''s my final offer."


    I exhaled, preparing to play my last card. "You do realize I saved you from Mordok’s instant-kill attack, right? I could have let you die and defeated Mordok along with the elf instead."


    It seemed the dwarf finally understood, as he inhaled deeply and fell silent, processing my words.


    "Alright, as long as you tell me your name," Muradin grinned, his expression loosening, and the mischievous look returned to his face.


    "Eryndor Leafshade, but you can call me Erynd," I said with a faint smile.


    I hadn''t expected my negotiation to succeed. My hands were damp with sweat, and my legs were shaking.


    I guess I hit the jackpot this time.