Jack crouched beside the enormous body of the Earthborn Ursine, his tusk knife resting in his hand as he examined the beast’s hide. The creature lay still beneath the shade of the trees, its stony fur bristling like jagged slate, thick and uneven with small crystalline ridges that glinted faintly in the dappled light. The hide wasn’t just tough—it was practically armor already, forged by the magic of the earth itself.

  He pressed the knife to the creature’s side and tried a tentative cut, choosing a section near the belly where the terrain was a little flatter. The knife scraped across the surface, skidding with a metallic sound and leaving only a shallow scratch.

  Jack frowned. He repositioned, leaned in, and tried again with more force. This time the blade bit slightly deeper, but barely more than a sliver of hide peeled away before the knife caught and slid sideways, nearly twisting in his grip. He hissed through his teeth and pulled back.

  “Thing’s built like a mountain,” he muttered, shifting to examine a different angle.

  He sat back on his heels and scanned the creature’s body, thinking. His knife would have sufficed for a normal animal but this wasn’t normal skin. It was dense, interwoven with hardened layers of earthen magic, like trying to carve a boulder with a kitchen knife.

  Then he spotted it—a long, torn gash across the creature’s right flank. One of the deeper wounds from their battle, nearly sealed with dried blood and bits of cracked fur. He remembered striking it, remembered the brief give in its defenses when his spear had plunged deep. That wound had gotten past the armor. And now, even in death, it might be the key.

  Jack stood and moved around to the wound, using his boot to push away some crusted blood and debris. The flesh underneath was exposed, split and dark, with deep channels reaching into the body beneath the hide.

  With a tight grip, he positioned the tip of his knife at the edge of the wound and pressed inward.

  This time, the knife slipped in.

  The resistance was still there, but diminished—already weakened by trauma and blood loss. Jack worked slowly, easing the knife along the edge of the gash, widening it a bit at a time. It was messy, hot work, and his hands were soon slick with blood and sweat, but he didn’t stop. Bit by bit, he widened the opening, carefully peeling back layers of hide from beneath, working outward instead of in.

  It wasn’t the cleanest method, but it worked. The creature’s own wounds had opened the way, and Jack took advantage of every inch.

  He moved methodically, carving along weakened seams and natural fault lines in the hide, until sections began to loosen under his grip. The thick fur peeled back like bark from a fallen tree, revealing the heavy muscle and bone beneath.

  It was hard work. His arms burned with each motion, his fingers cramped around the knife’s hilt, but he didn’t pause. He had fought and bled for this. He would not let it go to waste.

  The Earthborn Ursine might have been made of stone and fury, but now it was just flesh.

  And Jack knew what to do with flesh.

  He managed to cut the hide off the bears body mostly intact. When he was done he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, smearing a line of blood and grime across his forehead. The pelt was fully freed now, though patches of muscle and sinew still clung stubbornly to the underside. The fur, stiff and rocklike in some places, already weighed more than he’d expected.. He had also extracted the bears small intestines with the intention of using the material to stitch together his armor. The whole process has earned him two level ups in Skinning.

  He paused to rest his arms and reached into his pouch, pulling out a book as he sat cross-legged beside the Pool of Purity, flipping open the thick leather-bound journal he’d received after clearing the dungeon. The book was a gift from the Dungeon Avatar, offered to him as a reward and a guide—specifically designed for crafting Wargear. Its pages were dense with diagrams, enchanted notations, and detailed explanations of how to work with a wide variety of materials, both mundane and magical.

  He flipped through until he reached the section marked Elemental Materials: Harvesting and Preservation. His eyes scanned down the page, skipping over the sections on fire-infused feathers and lightning-touched bark, until he found the heading he needed:

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  EARTH-ALIGNED ORGANIC COMPONENTS

  He leaned in, tracing the cramped handwriting with a finger.

  “Earth-aligned materials—especially those drawn from magical beasts or phenomena—retain a latent affinity for stability, patience, and grounded essence. These components resist conventional decay and often reject traditional tanning or preservation methods. Attempting to cure such materials with fire or alchemical agents may disrupt the inherent alignment, causing loss of magical potential.”

  That explained the resistance he’d felt trying to cut and peel the hide. The very nature of the beast’s body resisted change. He kept reading.

  “Instead, to preserve the material’s integrity and unlock its elemental resonance, one must treat it with patience and a return to its origin. The most reliable method for such preservation is burial—interring the hide or bone beneath natural earth for no less than one full day and night. The soil must be untouched by magic or metal, pure and natural. This process encourages the material to bond with the latent ley energies of the land, stabilizing its essence. The effect is not unlike tanning, but far slower and aligned with the rhythms of the world.”

  Jack sat back, digesting the words.

  Burying the hide—letting the earth “finish” what the battle had begun.

  It made a strange kind of sense. The Earthborn Ursine had been a creature of stone and soil, born of the land’s old strength. To preserve what remained of it, he had to give part of it back to the ground.

  He looked toward the edge of the clearing near the Pool of Purity, where the ground was soft and unspoiled. No scorched craters, no signs of magic or steel—just moss, dirt, and quiet.

  He would need to dig a wide enough trench, carefully fold the hide, and bury it deep enough that the surface elements wouldn’t interfere. It would take time, but he had that now.

  Jack closed the journal and tucked it away, then turned back to the corpse with new purpose. The bear had fought to protect its dominion, to remain part of the land.

  Now Jack would return it to the earth—and in doing so, preserve a piece of its strength for the battles still to come.

  Jack exhaled slowly and closed the book, committing the passage to memory. He glanced toward the edge of the clearing where the sun was beginning to filter through the canopy, golden beams glinting off the surface of the Pool of Purity. Time to get to work.

  He knelt beside a patch of soft-looking earth and ran his fingers through it. No tools. No shovel. Just his hands and his strength.

  Fortunately, he was no ordinary man.

  With a grunt, Jack drove his fingers into the soil. Clumps of dirt and root came up in his fists as he dug, the ground parting under his touch more easily than it should have. His boosted stats—especially Strength and Endurance( or rather his Soul now though it served the same function)—turned what should’ve been a grueling chore into something much more manageable. He kept at it for several minutes, the hole growing deeper and wider with each pass of his arms. His muscles worked efficiently, corded and tireless, and soon enough he’d carved out a space large enough to hold the massive hide.

  He stood, wiped his hands on his trousers, then gently folded the thick Earthborn Ursine hide around the intestines and lowered them into the earth. The hide seemed to settle heavily, like a sleeping beast returning to its den. He buried it carefully, patting down the soil with firm presses of his palm. The ground held steady.

  With that task done, Jack turned toward the water. The Pool of Purity shimmered invitingly, its surface pristine and almost otherworldly. His clothes were clinging to him, still damp with sweat and grime from the fight and the long, brutal drag. He stripped down, dipped each article of clothing into the water one by one, letting the enchanted liquid cleanse them. The Pool’s magic washed away blood, dirt, and weariness with equal ease, leaving the garments looking fresher than they had any right to.

  Jack laid them out on a sun-drenched rock, letting the warmth dry them while he stepped into the water.

  The chill hit him first—clean and biting in a way that shocked the breath from his lungs—but he welcomed it. The pain and fatigue of the day melted away as he submerged himself, wading deeper until the water reached his shoulders. For a time, he simply floated there, eyes half-closed, letting the cleansing effect of the Pool work its quiet magic on body and soul alike. Then he started doing laps around the Pool, pleased to discover that his Swimming Skill leveled up as well.

  Eventually, he climbed out, the wind cool against his damp skin. He retrieved his clothes once they were dry, dressing quickly and efficiently. There was still work to do.

  Back near the treeline, Monsoon lay curled near Celia, the Wavewolf’s breathing slow and steady, though he kept a wary on her at all times. The captive elf was still, her eyes looking far off into the distance. He was tempted to ask her if she would accept his offer but restrained himself. Being overeager would not serve him here. Monsoon stirred as Jack approached, his sea-glass eyes blinking open.

  “Rest easy,” Jack murmured, placing a hand on the wolf’s head. “I’ve got it now.”

  Monsoon let out a soft chuff and stood, stretching before padding off toward the shade to find a quiet spot.

  Jack took his place before Celia, spear across his knees, eyes scanning the forest. For now, there was peace—but in a world like this, he doubted it would last long.