My eyebrows shot up as I turned to her, my brain scrambling for answers that just… weren’t there. “How would he have done this, though? You said yourself that no spell you’ve seen leaves wounds like that.”

  She straightened, her gaze wary as it flicked to the door on the opposite wall. “I haven’t, but Haltir is an alchemist, not a mage. His weapon is specially made—unlike any other I’ve seen before. It’s possible it did this.”

  Unease prickled along my spine as I looked at the adventurers again. “But why? He came to get the herb, right? Wouldn’t it have been smarter to team up with them?”

  Clover shrugged, frustration evident in the furrow of her brows. “I’d think so, but maybe there’s more going on here than we realize. The only way to know for sure is to keep going and ask him ourselves.”

  Her gaze slid back to the door, and she tipped her head. “He definitely went through. That door was trapped, but someone disabled it.”

  I followed her line of sight and spotted what she meant—a single paving stone removed from the floor, exposing the mechanism underneath.

  So Haltir was skilled with traps. That was… less than comforting after seeing what he’d done here.

  Shoving that thought aside for now, I picked my way through the bodies and stopped in front of the door. “If he’s smart enough to create a weapon the likes of which Nexus has never seen, he’s definitely smart enough to disable a few traps. As for the adventurers…”

  I grimaced, my gut twisting. “You’re right—we should wait and talk to him. Maybe they ambushed him. Some people don’t like competition in dungeons, after all. We shouldn’t assume he’s guilty without proof.”

  For all we knew, his weapon had nothing to do with those strange wounds, and we’d be accusing an innocent man. I’d seen too many people in Dawncrest do that to allow myself to do the same.

  Clover nodded, setting aside her own uncertainty as she led the way deeper into the dungeon.

  The hallway ahead split into two. I glanced down each corridor—both ended in a sharp turn, revealing nothing.

  Clover turned right with a shrug, muttering over her shoulder, “If this isn’t the way, we’ll double back and take the left. The faster we get through this place, the better.”

  I followed without complaint as the hallway opened into another room—only this one had monsters. Dead ones.

  Two Adult Giant Spiders lay on their backs against the far wall, legs curled up tight amid a sea of webs. A chill of disgust shot through me, but I shoved it aside and focused on the scene.

  Scorch marks marred the walls and floor. Pieces of egg sacs littered the ground. And in the spiders’ chests—burnt holes.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  I grunted. “Your guess about his weapon is looking more likely by the minute. It’s impressive, though—he took on two of these and whatever young they had at the same time.”

  No blood. No sign of injury.

  He’d walked away unscathed.

  Clover hummed, her sharp gaze sweeping the room before settling on the staircase leading downward. “He carried himself like a man on a mission with nothing to lose. Usually, those types either become monsters in their own right… or die taking on something they shouldn’t have. Let’s hurry before he meets the second fate.”

  I kept in step with her, relieved to leave the spiders behind—until we stepped into the next room.

  Three lumps of bones and innards lay in the corner, the meat and skin picked clean. Clover barely reacted, nodding as if she’d expected it.

  “Definitely Haltir,” she muttered. “He talked about collecting various monster parts for potions and poisons. If I had to guess, those used to be some kind of lizard. Their hides, meat, and poison glands are all valuable resources for someone who knows what to do with them.”

  Passing them by, she waved us onward. “At least he took out the monsters on his way. That’ll make catching up to him easier.”

  Given our luck, I’d take every bit of ‘easy’ we could get.

  This time, the door onward was on the right wall. As we passed through, I snorted, shaking my head.

  “Are you sure he isn’t a rogue?” I nodded toward yet another dismantled trap. “I’ve never known anyone but rogues to take the time to disarm every trap they come across. Especially when they have a weapon that could just destroy the door or lock entirely.”

  Clover peered into the room on our left before answering. “I’m sure. He said so himself when I asked.” She raised her fingers in quotation marks. “‘I couldn’t be a rogue if my life depended on it. I have the stealth of a Direbear and the patience of one to match.’” Lowering her hands, she rolled her eyes. “He was trying to get me to stop asking questions, but I ignored him.”

  I snorted. “Sounds about right. Anything in there?”

  She nodded and stepped inside, curling her finger for me to follow. “There’s a chest, but don’t expect much. Even if Haltir didn’t clear it out, someone else likely did.”

  Only… when we reached it, several potions sat at the bottom. Clover’s brows shot up. “Mana restoration potions… I’m surprised he left them.”

  I shrugged. “You said he doesn’t use mana, so why is that surprising? They’re useless to him.”

  She shot me a look. “Darling, just because you’d leave something behind if you had no use for it doesn’t mean others would. Those potions sell for a pretty coin.”

  Scooping them gently into her pack, she muttered under her breath. “I didn’t have Haltir pegged as the type to leave them though.”

  Standing, she shook the contemplative expression from her face and led the way out. “I’ll be sure to thank him when we catch up. Something tells me I’m going to have considerably less mana after I finish healing his foolish hide.”

  She punctuated that with an irritated scowl, and I wisely kept my mouth shut.

  Haltir’s decision to go it alone was reckless, but in his place, I couldn’t say I wouldn’t do the same. Those refugees needed help, and clearly, they didn’t have time to waste.

  I was still unsure how to feel about Haltir and the picture being painted of him… but if nothing else, he didn’t have to risk himself to help like this.

  That had to mean something.