"This is nice," Kael muttered as he placed everything in his backpack. The words came out half as a joke, half as disbelief, because nice wasn't the word anyone should be using in a basilisk den at night.
Still, he couldn't help it. The inventory felt heavier now, not in weight, but in value. It was the kind of heaviness that made a man walk differently, like his spine knew it was carrying something people would kill for.
So far, he had already obtained close to 40 soul cores, with one of them being a medium one.
The number kept repeating in his head like a drumbeat.
Forty. Forty meant progress. Forty meant his debt was shrinking into something he could actually bite through. He didn't know the exact value of that medium core, but it should fetch a good price at Baltak. The imp had made it clear he priced things however the Tower wanted that day, but a medium core wasn't exactly something you pretended was pocket lint.
