rpbooks Chapter 124: Free Rewards
Chapter 124: Free Rewards
Noah turned back to Kael.
The dragon was still on the ground, his earlier energy slightly dimmed by the underwhelming result of the cores.
He was managing it with more composure than Noah might have expected, but it was present.
"For now," Noah said, "let’s go even deeper into the forest and find advanced grade mana beasts with beast cores."
Kael’s tail moved.
It was the first sign — a single flick that carried more information than its size suggested, the physical equivalent of a door opening.
Then he was airborne, pushing off the ground with a clean stroke of his wings and rising to his usual hovering position with the recovered energy of a creature that had needed a direction and had just been given one.
He nodded, looking down at Noah with brightness back in his eyes. His tail continued its movement, the wagging establishing its own rhythm, unhurried and continuous.
Noah chuckled, finding his actions funny.
’I also need to complete my weekly quest,’ he thought, turning his attention inward for a moment as they began moving deeper into the forest.
The system interface appeared in his mind with the familiar clarity it always carried.
[Weekly Quest: Hunt 5 mana beasts (6/5)]
[Reward: 50 EXP, 5 Supreme Points]
[Penalty for failure: None$&@?]
[Weekly Quest Completed!]
[Rewards Granted: 50 EXP, 5 Supreme Points]
Noah stopped walking.
His eyes stayed on the notification for a moment, reading it a second time with the careful attention of someone checking that they had understood correctly before reacting.
Six out of five.
He had personally engaged nothing in this forest — had stood and observed while Kael had handled every encounter from the first dog to the final wolf.
His eyes moved to Kael, still flying ahead of him, tail still moving, entirely unaware of the calculation happening in his master’s mind.
’That means whenever Kael kills a mana beast,’ Noah thought, the realization expanding as he held it, ’it counts as me killing them.’
He stood with that for a moment.
The kills had been Kael’s — the black fire, the spatial redirect, the dark ball eruption, the Dragon’s Order — every engagement had been handled by the dragon while Noah watched.
And yet the system had counted them. Had added them to his weekly quest total, had pushed the count past the requirement, had issued the completion notification and delivered the rewards as though Noah had been the one doing the work.
This was wonderful.
Not in the mild, pleasant sense of a small convenience discovered — genuinely, significantly wonderful, the kind of discovery that changed the practical arithmetic of how he operated going forward.
Quest completion had always required his direct participation before, which meant that every weekly target needed his personal engagement with whatever the quest demanded. His time, his mana, his direct combat involvement.
Now Kael was in that equation.
Which meant quests that might have required careful solo engagement could be completed alongside Kael, the dragon’s capabilities adding to Noah’s output in a way the system recognized and rewarded.
The EXP accumulation, the Supreme Points, all of it — accessible through Kael’s actions as freely as through his own.
’It must be because of the familiar bond,’ he thought, the reasoning assembling itself clearly.
The connection between them wasn’t just communicative or emotional — it ran deeper than that, deep enough that the system treated them as a unified entity in certain contexts. Kael wasn’t separate from Noah’s capabilities in the system’s accounting.
He was an extension of them, categorized somewhere in the architecture of what Noah was rather than what Noah was accompanied by.
Something like a skill, essentially.
He exhaled.
’This changes things,’ he thought.
He started walking again, catching up to Kael with an unhurried stride, his eyes moving to the forest ahead where the trees continued their thickening, the mana in the air growing heavier with each hundred meters of depth.
Kael glanced at him.
The dragon hadn’t been told anything. Noah hadn’t turned to him or explained what the system had just revealed — hadn’t needed to.
The link between them had already carried it, the way it carried most things that surfaced strongly enough in Noah’s mind.
Not the visual of the system screen itself — Kael couldn’t see that, couldn’t access the interface directly the way Noah could.
But the screen’s appearance in Noah’s awareness produced a ripple in the link that Kael had learned to read, and from that ripple he could pull the essential detail of whatever the system had communicated.
He was doing that now.
Noah watched him process it from the corner of his eye — the slight shift in Kael’s expression as the information settled, the moment where the dragon’s eyes brightened with the specific quality that appeared when something genuinely good arrived rather than something merely expected.
The tail wagging intensified.
Noah said nothing and kept walking.
He could block the connection if he wanted to.
That option was available to him as the master in the bond — a degree of privacy, a way to keep certain thoughts and certain system interactions contained within himself rather than transmitting through the link. It was a function he was aware of and had simply never used.
He never bothered.
The honest reason was practical: Kael learning things directly through the link saved Noah the effort of explaining them.
Whatever the system revealed, whatever Noah understood or decided or processed — Kael had access to it, which meant their working relationship operated with a shared context that would have taken considerably more deliberate communication to maintain otherwise.
It was efficient, and Noah appreciated efficiency in the same quiet way he appreciated most things that removed unnecessary friction from his days.
But there was something else underneath the practical reason, something Noah hadn’t examined in detail but was aware of in the peripheral way that honest people were aware of their own motivations.
Keeping the link open was a form of trust.
He hadn’t framed it that way to himself, hadn’t decided at any specific moment that this was what it meant — but the fact of it was present regardless of how it was framed.
He was showing Kael everything. The system, the numbers, the capabilities, the limitations, the thoughts that surfaced strongly enough to transmit.
There was nothing curated about it, no managed version of himself being presented through the link.
Kael, apparently, understood what that meant.
Noah could feel it in the particular quality of the loyalty that came back through the connection — not the loyalty of a creature that had been commanded or conditioned, but something that had been decided.
Kael had made up his mind somewhere in the early days of their bond, and the open link had been part of what informed that decision. The trust had been recognized and had produced something in return that Noah suspected would be difficult to undo even if he tried.
He didn’t try.
He kept walking, and Kael flew beside him, and between them the link ran open in both directions the way it always had.
A few minutes later.
Noah looked down, where there was a dead snake.
It snake was enormous.
It was coiled at the far end of the clearing, its body forming overlapping rings that stacked nearly as high as Noah’s shoulder at the peak of the coil, which gave some indication of the total length involved.
The scales were bright green — vivid, almost luminescent in the filtered forest light, the color of something that had no interest in camouflage and no need of it, the coloring of a creature that had sat at the top of its local environment long enough that announcing itself had stopped being a liability.
A single horn rose from its head.
It was positioned centrally, growing from the midpoint of the skull and curving slightly forward, its surface the same green as the scales but darker at the tip, the color deepening toward something that sat between green and black at the point.
The horn was previously vibrant with mana, but now that the snake had died, it had gotten dim.
Its mouth was open even as it laid dead.
And from within that open mouth, protruding outward past the front of the jaw, was a rod.
Black, dense, the same darkness material as Kael’s spikes from the wolf engagement — it entered the snake’s mouth from somewhere further back along its body and emerged here at the open jaw with several inches of length exposed beyond the teeth, while behind the snake’s head it protruded from the tail end in the same way, both entry and exit points visible, the rod running the full length of the creature from one end to the other.
Noah looked at it for a moment.
Then he looked at Kael.
The dragon was hovering at his shoulder, his expression carrying the particular satisfaction of someone who had already moved on from the action itself and was waiting to see how it was received.