"What do you mean you won't give me a loan?" Riven slammed his fist onto the counter, frustration clear in his voice.
The banker didn't even flinch. He calmly pushed his glasses up his nose. "No collateral, no loan. Bank policy. And frankly… you don't strike me as someone trustworthy enough to pay it back. How do I know you won't just take the money and disappear?"
Riven sighed heavily and turned away.
"Whatever."
He stepped out into the street, hands in his pockets.
"What a letdown, huh Spark?"
"Woof."
He stretched and cracked his neck. "Alright then, how about we go hunt some rabbits? Make a little mora the old-fashioned way."
Just a few leg lengths, Mona stood waiting beside her wagon, arms crossed and eyes to the sky. She turned when she heard him approach.
"No good, huh?" she said softly. "Well… if you ever need anything, I'll be around where we first met for a few more days. After that, I'm heading off to Mondstadt."
She smiled, raising a hand in farewell.
"We could travel together, if you're still interested."
Riven returned the wave. "Yeah… I'd like that."
With a flick of the reins, her wagon rolled off, vanishing down the road.
He turned back to Spark.
"Alright, buddy. Let's find some prey."
But first, Riven darted over to a nearby stall and slapped down the mora he'd earned from selling a hide. "One large bag, please."
Bag slung over his shoulder, he grinned.
"Now we're ready."
With Spark bounding beside him, the two dashed into the woods once more, ready to earn their keep, one rabbit at a time.
Or… that was the plan.
Now? Now it was time to run for their lives.
Riven came barreling out of the brush, fresh rabbits slung over his shoulder like trophies—and a very angry swarm of slimes bouncing hot on his trail.
"AAAAAAHH! Spark! They're back! They remember!" he yelled, nearly tripping over a tree root. "THEY WANT MY BLOOD!"
"Woof woof!" Spark barked, clearly cursing them out in dog-speak.
Riven glanced behind him, eyes wide. "C'mon boy, we can still make it to the gate! We're almost there!"
As he ran, he shook a fist at the bouncing horde of goo behind him.
"This isn't the last you'll hear of me, slimes! I'll be back with a sword! A sharp one! With your names on it!"
Somehow, miraculously, they made it back to town. Riven collapsed against a wall near the gate, wheezing and gulping for air like he'd just run a marathon.
Spark barked furiously at the gate behind them, letting the slimes know they were lucky the walls were there.
"Don't you worry, Spark," Riven panted between breaths. "Once we get paid… those slimes are going down. Each and every one of 'em."
Still catching his breath, Riven stepped into the butchery. Inside, a cheerful young woman with a sturdy, muscular build was arranging cuts of boar meat on a wooden table. She glanced up as the door creaked open.
"Welcome to Braunwald Butchery! How can I help you?" she asked, tilting her head with a friendly smile.
Riven grinned like a man who had just outrun certain doom.
"Freshly 'acquired'—and don't ask how," he said, dropping a large bag onto the counter with a soft thump.
She blinked at the size of it, then chuckled. "Ten clean rabbits? Not bad! These'll sell fast once the stalls open tomorrow."
She knelt down and checked through the bag, inspecting the fur and size with a practiced eye. "Hmm… not much meat, but the pelts are in great condition. You skin them yourself?"
"Sure did."
"Color me impressed," she said, nodding. "Alright—rabbits like these go for about 300 Mora apiece, mostly for the hides."
She disappeared behind the counter for a moment, then returned with a jingling pouch.
"Here you go. 3,000 Mora. Fair trade?"
"Sounds good to me," Riven replied, taking the pouch and slipping it into his belt with a satisfied nod. "Thanks."
Just as he was turning to leave, something came to mind.
"Oh—before I go… do you happen to know anyone named Elara or Maris?"
She paused, thinking for a second. "Hmm, can't say I do. But maybe check with the Adventurers' Guild? They've got records and contacts all over."
"Got it. Thanks again."
As Riven stepped back outside, Spark trotted faithfully behind him with a quiet, satisfied huff. The sun had started to dip, casting golden light over the rooftops.
"Alright, Spark," Riven murmured, patting his companion's head. "Let's keep moving. We've still got to buy new equipment."
Riven wandered through the town, taking in the sights. To be honest, it wasn't that impressive—just your average stone streets, some market stalls, and the occasional fountain. But then, something caught his eye: a blacksmith's shop, with smoke curling from the chimney and the sharp clang! of metal ringing from within.
Curious, he stepped inside.
The heat hit him first, followed by the rhythmic hammering of a burly, tanned man pounding away at a blade on the forge. Without looking up, the man barked, "If you're here to window shop, don't. If you're buying, the cheap stuff's in the barrel, back corner."
Riven gave a quick nod and headed over to the corner, where a battered old barrel held a handful of plain-looking swords. He picked one up at random, just something basic, nothing fancy.
But the moment he gripped it, something clicked. The weight, the feel in his hand… it was strange. No—it was familiar.
He gave it a few test swings, and to his own surprise, it felt natural. Like muscle memory.
"…I'll take it," he muttered. "It'll get the job done."
The blacksmith glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You've got decent form, kid. Natural talent, maybe. Anyway, if you're done, I'm closing shop soon."
"Almost," Riven said. "Mind if I grab a bow and a few arrows too?"
"Back wall. Make it quick I've got a boar stew waiting at home."
Riven stepped out of the smithy with a new sword strapped to his hip and a modest bow slung over his shoulder. He'd even splurged on a simple leather sheath—practical and just flashy enough to make him feel cool.
Unfortunately, that also meant he was nearly out of Mora.
"Well," he sighed, glancing at Spark, "looks like it's a night under the stars. Unless we do a little hunting first."
Spark gave an enthusiastic bark.
Riven grinned. "What do you say? Wanna test this sword out on a slime?"
Another bark—louder this time.
"Alright, that's the spirit! Let's go make some trouble."
As night fell, Riven crouched behind a tree, eyes locked on his target. This slime was different—glowing a fiery red, pulsing with heat.
"A Pyro Slime," he muttered. "Perfect test subject."
It was alone. Vulnerable. The perfect victim for his shiny new sword.
With a confident grin, Riven dashed forward from the shadows, blade raised high. "Surprise, you bouncy freak!"
He swung with precision clean, right down the middle.
What he didn't expect… was the explosion.
BOOM!
The slime erupted in a fiery blast, sending Riven flying backward with a scorched yelp.
He hit the dirt hard, coughing and singing.
"Okay," he wheezed, "note to self, Pyro Slimes explode."