The morning sun had barely crested the sheer alabaster cliffs of the High Precinct when Kaelen Ashford slipped back through the drainage culvert near the West Watchtower.
The icy runoff water washed away the smell of copper, ozone, and damp earth that clung to his worn leather boots, but it could not wash away the electricity humming beneath his skin. Over his left shoulder, Kaelen carried a heavy canvas sack lined with thick oilcloth, its bottom weighted down by pristine monster cores, severed shadow-panther fangs, and iridescent razor-claws harvested from the depths of Gloom Ridge.
At his side trotted Nox.
To any guard patrolling the iron watchtowers above, the creature looked like nothing more than a sleek, unusually dark stray cat with striking amber eyes, darting nimbly through the morning shadows. Thanks to the newly evolved Void Shroud II, Nox's staggering True Combat Rating of 650 remained completely suppressed beneath a translucent veil of suppressed mana, registering to any standard System lens as a harmless CR 1 nuisance.
Yet Kaelen could feel the silent, terrifying power thrumming through their spiritual bond. Beneath that glossy, midnight-black fur lay condensed muscle as hard as iron, claws capable of slicing through dragon-scale plating, and a heart that beat with the primordial rhythm of an extinct apex predator.
"Keep close, Nox," Kaelen whispered, adjusting the strap of the heavy sack. "We aren't in the forest anymore. The beasts in the city wear clothes and carry silver."
Nox let out a low, silent huff, its golden eyes glinting as it melted seamlessly into the long shadow cast by a row of rusted cargo cranes.
Kaelen avoided the main thoroughfares of the Iron Docks, where Master Garrick’s overseers and the Guild’s patrolmen usually gathered to draft morning laborers. Instead, he navigated a maze of slippery, sea-slick alleys until he reached the rear entrance of the Black Anchor Tavern—a squat, lime-crusted establishment built into the crumbling stone foundations of the lower seawall.
The tavern’s front room was quiet at this hour, smelling of stale ale, pipe tobacco, and roasting fat. But Kaelen did not stop at the bar. He flashed a worn copper token—given to him by Old Bram—to a broad-shouldered bouncer leaning against a cellar door, and descended a steep, winding spiral of damp stone steps.
With every step downward, the air grew warmer, thicker, and heavy with a bizarre cocktail of scents: dried herbs, boiling pitch, monster blood, and the dry, ancient dust of crushed bone.
The subterranean hall opened into a cavernous vault carved directly out of the coastal bedrock—The Fossil Market.
Unlike the pristine, marble-floored trading halls of the Royal Merchant Guild in the High Precinct, the Fossil Market was a lawless, bustling underbelly. Torchlight flickered against damp cavern walls, casting long, swaying shadows over dozens of makeshift wooden stalls, iron cages, and canvas tents. Hundreds of figures moved through the haze—rogue hunters in blood-spattered leather armor, shady alchemists in grease-stained robes, underground smugglers, and wealthy private collectors hiding their faces beneath deep velvet hoods.
Here, no one asked for a Guild hunting license. No one cared if you were a noble scion or a dockland rat. The only currency that mattered was gold, and the only rule was buyer beware.
"Look at this place," Kaelen muttered under his breath, pulling his frayed hood lower over his eyes to obscure his face.
System scan active, Kaelen thought, invoking the internal interface of the Ancient Bestiary.
A pale, translucent grid overlay bathed his vision, highlighting the stalls around him in varying shades of dim blue and grey. Most of the wares displayed on the velvet cloths were mundane—standard monster hides, common elemental dust, and low-tier bone fragments from Iron or Bronze-grade beasts.
[ANALYSIS: COMMON SPECIES — SILVER-HORNED STAG BONE] [ANALYSIS: COMMON SPECIES — STONE-HIDE BOAR TUSK] [EXTINCTION RELEVANCE: 0%]
Kaelen walked past a row of noisy stalls where merchants shouted prices over the squawking of caged wind-hawks and the low grunts of muzzled dire-boars. His immediate goal was simple: convert his high-grade spoils from Gloom Ridge into cold, hard currency.
He navigated toward the eastern cavern wall, where the premier carcass brokers and material appraisers operated behind iron-reinforced counters. He stopped before a stall illuminated by hanging mage-lamps, above which hung a brass sign etched with a stylized scales emblem: Gideon’s Relics & Curiosities.
Behind the counter sat a lean, elderly man with a sharp monocle strapped over his left eye and silver hair pulled back into a neat tail. He was meticulously cleaning a fossilized tooth with a small wire brush, his fingers stained dark with polishing ink.
"If you're selling iron-ore chips or sewer-rat tails, keep moving, boy," the old man said without looking up, his voice dry as parchment. "Gideon doesn't trade in trash."
"I don't have rat tails, Master Gideon," Kaelen said quietly, stepping up to the counter.
Gideon paused, lowering his wire brush. He peered over his spectacles, his sharp grey eyes taking in Kaelen's worn linen tunic, patched trousers, and the heavy canvas sack slung over his shoulder. A faint, dismissive curl touched the old man's lips.
"A dock laborer," Gideon sighed, resting his elbows on the wooden counter. "Let me guess. You found a shiny pebble in the mud flats and think it's a dragon pearl?"
Without a word, Kaelen lifted the heavy canvas sack and rested it on the iron counter. The heavy thud echoed crisply against the stone walls. Kaelen unknotted the oiled rope and pulled back the fabric, exposing the contents within.
The dim ambient light of the mage-lamps caught the brilliant, deep crimson crystal resting at the center of the pile—the pristine, unblemished monster core of the Alpha Gloom-Spined Shadow-Stalker (CR 220). Surrounding it were six razor-sharp obsidian claws, a pair of pristine shadow-panther fangs, and three glowing violet marrow-bones harvested from the leviathan fossil cavern.
Gideon froze.
The old merchant’s monocle nearly slipped from his eye. Slowly, meticulously, he reached for a pair of velvet-lined brass tongs and picked up the crimson core, bringing it inches from his magnifying lens.
"By the Ancestors..." Gideon breathed, his condescending tone vanishing instantly. "The mana purity... the density... this isn't a common forest predator. This belongs to an Alpha Shadow-Stalker from the deep ridge. Uncorrupted, harvested with a clean single strike to the nerve center..."
He looked up at Kaelen, his eyes burning with a sudden, intense scrutiny. "A beast of this caliber has a Combat Rating well above two hundred. A team of Silver-rank Guild veterans would struggle to harvest a core this intact without fracturing the mana matrix. Where did a boy like you get this?"
"In the woods," Kaelen replied smoothly, keeping his posture relaxed. "My sources are my own, Master Gideon. The question is: are you buying, or should I take these to the alchemists at the Red Lantern?"
Gideon's eyes narrowed slightly, but a slow, shrewd smile spread across his weathered face. In the Fossil Market, asking too many questions about a supplier's origin was a quick way to lose exclusive access to prime goods.
"The Red Lantern would dilute this core into cheap stamina potions," Gideon scoffed, carefully placing the crimson sphere onto a brass balance scale. "I have a private buyer in the High Precinct who pays top coin for unblemished shadow-attribute cores to synthesize high-grade stealth runes."
Gideon pulled out a small iron ledger and dipped a quill into black ink, calculating swiftly.
"The Alpha core alone is worth thirty-five Gold Sovereigns," Gideon announced, tapping the brass scale. "The shadow-panther fangs and razor-claws... another twelve. The marrow-bones are unusual—dense, heavy, almost petrified, but brimming with residual earth-attribute mana. I'll give you eight gold for the set."
He leaned forward, looking Kaelen dead in the eye. "Fifty-five Gold Sovereigns for the entire sack. Cash. No Guild records, no tax deductions."
Fifty-five Gold Sovereigns.
Kaelen’s heart gave a sudden, hard thud against his ribs.
In Oakhaven, a dock worker earned eight silver coins for a full day of backbreaking labor. One Gold Sovereign was worth one hundred silver coins. Fifty-five gold coins was more money than Kaelen’s parents had made in five years of honest work. It was enough to buy a comfortable townhouse, hire a personal tutor, or live comfortably in the middle district for two years without touching a pitchfork.
"Fifty-five gold," Kaelen said, keeping his voice strictly level. "Agreed."
Gideon reached beneath the counter and pulled out a heavy velvet pouch tied with golden thread. He opened the drawstring, revealing a gleaming heap of broad, heavy gold coins stamped with the crest of the Kingdom of Solis. He counted out fifty-five coins onto a felt pad, the metallic clinking sound music to Kaelen's ears.
Kaelen swept the gold into his own sturdy leather belt-pouch, feeling its heavy, reassuring weight against his hip.
"If you come across more shadow-attribute materials of this caliber, Ashford... or whatever your name is..." Gideon said, resting his hands on the counter, "...you know where to find me. I pay ten percent above market rate for clean harvests."
"I'll remember that," Kaelen nodded.
He turned away from the counter, stepping back into the crowded thoroughfare of the Fossil Market.
Beside his boots, Nox let out a quiet, satisfied purr, rubbing its head against Kaelen's calf.
Now that we have coin, it's time to shop for what we actually came here for, Kaelen thought, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
While common merchants and nobles hunted for fresh monster parts, elemental crystals, and live beasts, Kaelen Ashford was looking for the one thing everyone else considered worthless: fossils.
He began walking down the back aisles of the market—the dirtier, dimly lit alleys where scavengers, grave-robbers, and low-tier miners dumped petrified bones, fossilized rock clusters, and ancient debris excavated from deep underground mines or coastal cliffs.
To the average merchant or alchemist, a petrified fossil was useless. The living mana within a monster's bones decayed completely after a few centuries, leaving behind inert, rock-hard calcium that could neither be used for spellcasting nor forged into weapons.
But to Kaelen's Ancient Bestiary, petrified fossils were locked treasure chests containing the erased genetic blueprints of First Era apex monsters.
Kaelen activated his system overlay, slowly scanning stall after stall.
[SCANNING FOSSIL DEPOSITS...] [OBJECT: PETRIFIED CRANIUM — COMMON ANCIENT CANINE] [GENETIC DECAY: 99.8%] [EXTINCTION RELEVANCE: INSIGNIFICANT — EP VALUE: +5]
[OBJECT: CALCIFIED SHELL FRAGMENT — ANCIENT SEA TURTLE] [GENETIC DECAY: 99.4%] [EXTINCTION RELEVANCE: INSIGNIFICANT — EP VALUE: +8]
Kaelen walked past dozens of stalls, shaking his head. Most of the fossils brought to the market were fragments of common, low-tier creatures that had died thousands of years ago, holding very little value for the Bestiary.
Just as Kaelen was about to turn into a wider corridor, Nox suddenly stopped dead in its tracks.
The black cat-like creature stiffened, its tail standing straight up as its golden eyes locked onto a small, dusty stall tucked into a dark alcove at the very end of the tunnel.
Nox? Kaelen queried through their spiritual link.
A sharp, electric surge of sensation echoed back through the Primitive Mental Mesh—a mix of intense hunger, recognition, and violent resonance.
At the same time, Kaelen's vision flashed bright crimson as a series of urgent System prompts cascaded down his field of view:
[WARNING: HIGH-DENSITY PRIMAL GENETIC RESONANCE DETECTED!] [SEARCHING ANCIENT ARCHIVE...] [ERASED SPECIES DETECTED IN IMMEDIATE VICINITY!] [TARGET: CALCIFIED PETRIFIED BONE MATRIX] [ESTIMATED EXTINCTION VALUE: EXTREMELY HIGH!]
Kaelen took a deep breath, steadying his pulse. He patted Nox gently on the head, reassuring the creature, before casually strolling toward the secluded alcove.
The stall was barely more than a wooden crate set atop a dirt mound. Sitting behind it was an old, crippled dwarf with a wooden leg, a scarred eye, and a pipe filled with foul-smelling leaf tobacco. On the crate rested a haphazard heap of muddy, encrusted rocks, cracked petrified bones, and dirt-covered slabs excavated from some deep subterranean ruin.
"Looking for a doorstep, kid?" the old dwarf rasped, coughing up a cloud of grey smoke. "Five copper bits for anything in the pile. Ten coppers if you want the whole crate. Most of it's just heavy granite and dead river bone."
Kaelen approached the crate, casually running his fingers over the muddy rocks while his Ancient Bestiary scanned each item individually.
[OBJECT: PETRIFIED BASALT ROCK — VALUE: 0 EP] [OBJECT: DECAYED WOODEN ROOT — VALUE: 0 EP]
Then, his fingers brushed against a heavy, oblong object buried beneath a layer of dried river clay.
It looked like a jagged piece of dark, blackish-grey rock, roughly eighteen inches long, covered in thick petrified encrustations. To any casual observer or Guild appraiser, it resembled nothing more than an ugly piece of fossilized driftwood or hardened shale.
However, beneath Kaelen's touch, the Ancient Bestiary screen flared with brilliant gold light:
[TARGET IDENTIFIED!] [OBJECT: PETRIFIED FEMUR FRAGMENT — SPECIES 005] [ANCIENT SPECIES: PRIMAL ABYSSAL THUNDER-DRAGON (CALAMITY-GRADE)] [STATUS: ERASED FROM SYSTEM DATABASE] [BLOODLINE TIER: ANCESTRAL PRIMAL] [EXTINCTION POINTS HARVEST POTENTIAL: +1,200 EP!] [SPECIAL NOTE: CONTAINS DORMANT ANCESTRAL LIGHTNING GENETIC MEMORY!]
Kaelen felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
A Primal Abyssal Thunder-Dragon!
An extinct apex creature from the First Era—a dragon whose species had been erased from history by the Architects, leaving behind only a single calcified bone hidden beneath a mountain of dirt. A single harvest from this bone would yield a staggering 1,200 Extinction Points, instantly providing enough EP to unlock Nox's next skill tree or begin reconstructing a second lost species!
Kaelen forced his face to remain completely expressionless, picking up the heavy black rock along with two worthless granite stones.
"How much for these three rocks, old man?" Kaelen asked, his voice calm and indifferent. "I need some heavy ballast for my workbench."
The dwarf squinted through his pipe smoke, glancing at the muddy rocks in Kaelen's hand. He shrugged lazily.
"Fifteen coppers for the three of 'em," the dwarf grunted. "Or give me two silver coins and you can take the whole damn crate off my hands."
Kaelen didn't hesitate. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two shiny silver coins from his change, and tossed them onto the wooden crate.
"Deal," Kaelen said.
He picked up the entire wooden crate, cradling the petrified dragon bone securely at the center, and turned back into the shadow of the cavern.
Beside him, Nox let out a low, purring growl of immense satisfaction, its golden eyes gleaming in the dark.
The Kingdom of Solis saw only trash in the mud.
Kaelen Ashford was holding the forgotten thunder of the ancient world in his hands—and the journey of the Extinct Beast Tamer was about to reach a whole new level.