Brann gestured to his team, who were already dropping their packs. The sound of clinking metal and shifting loot was unmistakable.
"And?" Carlos asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It is insane," Brann beamed, looking like a man who had just won the lottery. "Absolutely insane. We have been running this floor for six hours. Usually, you get a core every three or four kills, right? Today? It is every other kill. And the quality! We pulled three E-rank cores off standard mobs."
Jacob kept his head down, the mithril tool moving in smooth, hypnotic circles a fraction of an inch above the steel. He could hear them, but his focus was entirely on the lattice. He felt the resistance of the steel giving way, the mana snapping into place as the composite field stabilized.
One of Brann's teammates, a rogue with a bandaged nose, chimed in while unpacking his bedroll. "It is not just the cores. The material drops are up too. Hides, teeth, claws. The dungeon is overflowing. We have already filled two bags. We are going to make a month's wages in a single day."
Grimmand looked up from the fire, his interest piqued. "That good, eh?"
"Better," Brann said, sitting down on a log. "We ran into another group a few miles back. They said the same thing. The whole dungeon is hot. It is like the System decided to throw a festival."
Elara exchanged a quick, subtle glance with Carlos. They both knew exactly why the System was throwing a festival. It was pushing more mana and resources into the dungeon to counter the anomaly sitting quietly by the fire.
"That is great news," Carlos said smoothly, hiding his knowledge. "We noticed it was a bit thicker than usual, but I didn't realize it was dungeon-wide."
"Oh, it is everywhere," Brann said, pulling a flask from his belt and offering it to Carlos. "We are resting up here for the night, then hitting the third floor at dawn. If the drop rates hold up down there, we might just retire early. I tell you, Carlos, whatever god is smiling on this place today, I want to buy him a drink."
Click.
Jacob felt the sensation in the back of his mind. A soft, mental thud as the enchantment took hold. The link was formed. He could feel the armor now, a dull, sturdy presence in his awareness. It wasn't just metal anymore. It was a kinetic battery waiting to be struck.
"Well," Carlos said, taking a swig from the flask and handing it back. "Here is to the gods of fortune, then. May the loot keep flowing."
"To the loot," Brann agreed, taking a drink. "Are you guys pushing for the third floor tomorrow?"
"That is the plan," Carlos nodded. "We are escorting a . . . trainee." He gestured vaguely at Jacob. "So we are taking it slow."
Brann glanced at Jacob, seeing a small boy staring intently at a piece of armor with no visible tools. He shrugged, dismissing it. "Smart. With the dungeon acting this wild, it is a dangerous place for a kid, even with the good drops. But hey, if he survives, he will be rich."
The veterans laughed, high on adrenaline and profit, and started setting up their own camp. They were loud, happy, and completely unaware that the source of their good fortune was the ten-year-old boy sitting ten feet away.
Carlos sat back down across from Jacob. He reached for his breastplate.
He paused.
The metal looked exactly the same. There were no glowing runes, no carvings, no scratches. But when Carlos lifted it, his brow furrowed. It didn't feel heavier, exactly. It felt . . . denser. Like the air around it was thicker.
Carlos narrowed his eyes, focusing on the discrepancy. He felt the familiar prickle at the back of his neck as his vision tightened. The firelight seemed to dim around the edges, highlighting the breastplate in sharp, hyper-real clarity.
Combat Insight Triggered
Anomaly detected: Item density and kinetic resistance exceed material limits.
Grade Disparity: Defensive capability significantly above visual rank.
Enchantment signature: High stability. Method unknown.
Suggested action: Asset is critical. Secure exclusive access. Monitor development.
The text hovered in his mind for a second before fading, leaving Carlos staring at the armor with a dry mouth.
His skill didn't mince words. It had just looked at a piece of C-rank steel and told him it was punching way above its weight class. And the suggestion at the end . . . Secure exclusive access.
Carlos slowly looked up.
Jacob was sitting there, wiping his mithril tool with a rag, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just triggered a high-level threat assessment skill. To the boy, he had just done a bit of "basic stuff."
Carlos felt a cold realization settle in his gut. If Brann or any of the other veterans knew what this kid could actually do, they wouldn't be laughing about loot drops. They would be fighting over him.
"You hear that?" Carlos murmured, his voice too low for the other group to hear. "You are making a lot of people very happy, Jacob."
"I am just sitting here," Jacob whispered back, slipping the mithril tool back into his pouch.
"Keep doing that," Carlos smirked, tapping a knuckle against the steel. The sound was different now, deadened and solid, like hitting a stone wall instead of a tin sheet. "And if the third floor is as boosted as they say, I am going to need this to hold the line."
He patted the steel, feeling the vibration die instantly as the enchantment swallowed the force.
"Get some sleep, kid," Carlos added, leaning back against his pack and shifting his sword so it was within easier reach. "I have the first watch. I want to make sure no one . . . disturbs the asset."