“Olovice, is this your first time doing a dissection?” Mr. Briel asked. The dead salamander had no other wounds except for a hole from a magic-breaking bullet at its heart, so it had a pretty decent skin. Not to mention, Olovice’s dissection skills were particularly good, which could fetch a good price.

“Not exactly the first time,” Olovice replied, taking off his blood-stained gloves and tossing them into the trash before putting on a new pair. As he worked, he continued, “Last year, when the village’s wheat field had some gray rats contaminated with unclean aura, my teacher asked me to take out their eyes, dry them into powder, and put them with the magical materials. That’s when I started.”

“You’ve made great progress,” Mr. Briel acknowledged. He knew many people had psychological barriers during their first dissection, but Olovice adapted surprisingly quickly. From the outside, you couldn’t tell he was a novice who had only dissected a few times.

“My teacher always said I have a good learning ability,” Olovice smiled, accepting the compliment. The table wasn’t flat; it was funnel-shaped, smooth around the edges and sloping towards the center. Father Andre, an experienced clergy member, had thoughtfully made three small holes in the center of the table. This allowed the blood to flow through the holes into a large wooden bucket below as Olovice skinned the salamander.

Praise the teacher, Olovice thought. Without that tough skin, the salamander barely fit on the table. Its tail was manually coiled into three loops by Olovice.

“Olovice, have you considered selling its skin?” Mr. Briel suggested.

“How’s the market for it?” Olovice asked.

“I think those wandering alchemists, sorcerers, witches, and low-level witches who aren’t registered with the official government or orthodox church would like it. They’d offer a higher price. If the finished product is good, it could sell for around fifty gold pounds.”

Mr. Briel, an experienced old gentleman, sat on the only sofa in the room, put down his cane, and rubbed his left leg. He continued, “The salamander’s skin can be made into a soft armor vest or gloves with anti-magic properties, or boots. But it’s not easy work. It requires various herbs for tanning and drying, and a magic array needs to be inscribed.”

Hearing the price, Olovice’s eyelids twitched. It was indeed valuable.

“What do you plan to do?”

It sounded complicated, but Olovice shared his idea, “I want to make the skin into soft armor for my teacher. Mr. Briel, can you teach me?”

“I can. It’s just a matter of talking for me. You’ll be the one doing the actual work,” Mr. Briel said, watching Father Andre’s student cut meat and bones, placing large chunks of meat into a bucket at his feet, chopping bones with a cleaver, and arranging the salamander’s organs neatly, just like the specimens in books.

Truly meticulous and eager to learn, Mr. Briel adjusted his position to sink more comfortably into the sofa. “The salamander’s spirit is in its brain. Be careful when extracting it.”

“I will, Mr. Briel,” Olovice replied. In front of him, only the salamander’s head remained intact. Holding a hooked knife, Olovice pried open its soft nasal cavity bone, revealing the brain tissue of the giant lizard, which spilled onto the table.

A dark red, jelly-like substance about the size of a child’s fist caught Olovice’s attention. The book mentioned this was the salamander’s spirit crystal, its brain.

Olovice carefully cleaned around it and gently picked it up, feeling a non-burning warmth. At this moment, it emitted a faint glow. In life, it should have been as dazzling as flames. After the main body died, the magical creature’s spirit would quickly dissipate.

Due to this characteristic, many magical creatures faced cruel treatment in the last century. It wasn’t until eighty years ago, in Hearn, that a joint decree by several magic universities, alchemy masters, the orthodox church, and the Natural Environment and Ecology Bureau, the “Natural Magical Creature Protection Act,” barely put an end to this phenomenon.

Olovice calmly placed it in a sealed box to maintain its spirit.

Then, he removed the salamander’s gill pouch. In a small glass bottle, the venom swirled with a light green ripple.

As for the organs, Olovice decided to dry them as before, grind them into powder, label them, and store them in the potion cabinet. Who knows when they might come in handy?

“What do you plan to do with the meat and bones?” Mr. Briel asked, watching Olovice busily at work.

“I’ll dry the meat along with the organs. As for the bones…” Olovice hadn’t decided yet. “I’ll pack them up and store them in the utility room later.”

Olovice thought for a moment and then cut the large chunks of meat in the bucket into more uniform strips. “Mr. Briel, you can go upstairs for lunch. I might be here for a while.”

He noticed that Mr. Briel’s leg was indeed uncomfortable.

“Young people have so much energy,” Mr. Briel said, picking up his cane and limping away on his left foot.

Olovice worked until evening. During this time, Sister Hiran brought him two meals, which he quickly ate before continuing his work.

Outside the House of Spirit, there were two wooden racks with long strips of meat hanging on them. The cool, slightly chilly basement air allowed the moisture in the meat strips to evaporate quickly. The organs were hung in mesh bags to dry. Worried about scaring Sister Hiran and Brother Martin, Olovice took an old church curtain from the utility room to cover them, although they rarely came down here.

He cleaned the room again to disperse the smell of blood.

Olovice took the opportunity to practice shaping spells. To his delight, he had improved since last time. At least his moonlight lasted three minutes longer than before.

A fulfilling day was coming to an end. Before leaving, Olovice closed the basement door securely.

He brushed back his wet golden hair, revealing his smooth forehead, took a deep breath, and went upstairs. Olovice looked disdainfully at his dirty clothes, tiptoed to the second floor, and completed his shower and grooming in the bathroom. He also washed his clothes.

After changing into clean pajamas, Olovice felt more comfortable.

He returned to his room, sat at the desk by the window, turned on the light, and read a book. The night breeze brushed past his ears, and the small garden occasionally echoed with insect chirps. The moonlight, cool as water, softly illuminated the room.

Olovice put down his book, took a moment to appreciate the scene, and smiled.

The next day, before dawn, Olovice was back in the House of Spirit. He rummaged through the potion cabinet, placing dried sunflowers into a grinding bowl, adding five drops of Mugwort essential oil. In the field of mysticism, Mugwort also had a scholarly name, Moon Goddess Herb, one of the representative plants of the Moon Goddess. He added a small piece of birch heartwood and some holy water he had made a few days ago, grinding them into a powder.

A simple potion for healing and protection was made. He packed them into sachets.

Olovice could smell the warmth of light and the bitter, cool scent of the Moon Goddess Herb from afar.

When he brought breakfast to his teacher, he also gave him a potion.

“It’ll help you have a good dream tonight,” Father Andre said with a smile, taking the opportunity to assess his student’s work. Satisfied, he let Olovice leave.

On the way, Olovice met Brother Martin and gave him a potion, as well as Sister Hiran.

For the last one, he knocked on Mr. Briel’s door.

“Why are you bringing me a Moon Goddess Herb potion?” Mr. Briel sniffed. As a former member of the Druidic Natural God Religion, he was very familiar with plants. Just by smell, he could tell it was a basic version of a calming potion.

“I noticed your leg injury hasn’t healed,” Olovice said with concern. “In this foreign land, I thought you might need it.”

Mr. Briel invited him in, closed the door, and looked at the simple potion, amused. “Olovice, you’ve misunderstood. My left leg isn’t injured.”

He sat down and rolled up his pants, revealing a perfectly fine left leg.

Olovice was puzzled. “But I clearly saw you having trouble walking.”

Mr. Briel explained, “To safely cross the Furious Sea, I made a deal with a merchant. He took away my ability to walk and run with my left leg.”

Is that even possible? Olovice realized he didn’t know enough about the outside world, his mind filled with “Is that even possible?”

“You know, the sea isn’t under my Lord’s domain. My powers are weakened and suppressed there, and the Furious Sea is full of dangers. I had no choice but to make this deal with a merchant,” Mr. Briel said.

“Is it permanent?” Olovice asked cautiously.

“If I make another deal with that merchant, I can redeem it.”

“But the second time will cost more than the first,” Mr. Briel said.

Olovice’s lips moved. Well, the outside world was indeed dangerous and absurd. He still couldn’t understand how a merchant could take away someone’s ability to move their left leg. It wasn’t like it was made of building blocks.

Seeing Olovice’s confusion, Mr. Briel explained further, warning, “He’s a dangerous merchant named Heinrich, a traitor of the Order of God. He stole the church’s holy relic, the Fair Balance, and came to Hearn from the Northern Continent. No one knows where he’s wandering now.”

“Just remember, don’t make any deals with him, and he won’t be able to take anything from you.”

Olovice nodded, keeping this dangerous figure in mind.

“But thank you for the potion, Olovice,” Mr. Briel said, feeling a bit better.

“It’s nothing. If you need anything, just let me know,” Olovice said, closing the door.

He went outside to join Sister Hiran in leading the morning prayers.

A beautiful and fulfilling day began again.

In two months, he wouldn’t be able to be so leisurely. Olovice maintained a perfect smile for the congregation. July was graduation season, and this year, the university students from the Seminary would graduate.

Soon, he would go to Montpelier to take an exam with Bishop Ulrich. If he passed, he would be considered a rural version of a university graduate. If all went well, in a little over a month, in September, he could take over Letania Church.

Great, a stable job right after graduation, Olovice comforted himself.