Chapter 77: Welcome To Nothing
Dune stood quietly, sword tilted down as the blood trickled from its tip. The scent of iron clung to the blade, mixing with the thick stench of sweat, dirt, and the bitter tang of victory.
With a torn piece of the golden bull's fur, he wiped the weapon clean, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
Around him, the others were still catching their breath.
"That doesn't count," Ralt muttered behind him, bitterness buried beneath their breath.
"He didn't even fight."
Dune glanced over his shoulder, his eyes calm and unreadable, giving nothing in return. Rudy, still brushing dust from his torn sleeves, raised a hand to hush the others.
"No, he won it," Rudy said with a grin, not looking at Dune but clearly thinking about him.
"Deservingly."
Dune didn't wait for praise or protests. He crouched beside the bull's fallen body and drove his blade into its thick hide. The flesh gave way with a wet, reluctant tear, and after a moment of precision, his fingers found the Neba core. It was small, surprisingly so for a beast that had shattered trees with its charge, but it pulsed with a dim, almost melancholic green glow, like a dying ember clinging to life.
He studied it for a moment and let out a quiet, almost amused breath. "So small..."
With that, he rose, slipping the core into his satchel before turning to the group. "Let's go," he said plainly, voice flat. "Time to collect what's mine."