MYSTIC MAGE
CHAPTER 9: GOLD SLAYER
Bridget looked across the counter at Cogan, her expression resolute but edged with regret.
"There is no second pouch," she said plainly.
A wave of disbelief crashed over Cogan's team.
"What!"
"How?"
"Shouldn't it be more than this?"
"What's going on?"
The shouts erupted, a chorus of shock, but no one was more stunned than Cogan himself. He leaned closer, his voice low and dangerous.
"Hope you are not playing games with me, Bridget," he asked, the dull tone barely masking his rising fury.
Bridget sighed. She'd seen this reaction countless times.
"I'm sorry, Cogan, but the original price has been cut due to the shape of the corpse you returned."
Cogan snapped, raising his voice.
"Meaning?"
"Are you aware of the reason why you bring a piece of the monster you kill back to the guild?" she asked, trying to keep her own voice steady.
"Of course I do. It's just to confirm the kill," Cogan retorted.
"Alright, well it isn't just that," Bridget explained.
"The corpse of the monster is submitted, and the guild gets its own share of the money. But if the corpse is completely desecrated, then the money is cut."
"Desecrated how?" Cogan asked, confusion replacing some of his anger.
"See." Bridget said, and with a snap of her fingers, a large, heavy sack landed on the counter with a loud THUG, sending dust into the air. It was filled with the enormous, lifeless head of the black scale dragon. With a small, deliberate pull, she ripped a hole in the tough sack.
Cogan's eyes widened in horror. The small opening revealed the dragon's black scales turning a sickly, rapid grey, decaying faster than anything natural.
"What the..."
Bridget cut him off, shaking her head. "Also shocked. That's how I was when I saw it. At this rate, it will be completely disintegrated before I can give it to the guild next week."
A heavy silence settled over the group. Cogan stared at the single sack of money, his initial rage giving way to a profound sadness. They had risked everything, including their lives, and still only received a little more than half of the expected bounty.
seeing their disheartened faces, Bridget quickly made the sack vanish back into storage and tried to lighten the mood.
"Whoever that guy was must have been really rich and powerful," She speculated.
"Maybe the son of a Royal. It's unlikely that an average adventurer will possess a weapon with such an extreme decaying effect."
She looked at Cogan's team, her curiosity piqued.
"By the way, what was his weapon?"
"He had none," a mage replied.
Bridget frowned, confused.
"What do you mean? I could clearly see scratch marks all over the face, like some sort of blade dented through the scales." She pressed them.
"So what did he use to kill the dragon?"
"Cards," another mage whispered.
Bridget's eyes widened, dumbstruck.
"I've never seen any magic like that," a mage continued, his voice still filled with awe.
"Being able to summon the undead that easily is somewhat impossible without chanting spells. It was unbelievable."
Cogan watched Bridget's shocked face until she finally seemed to snap back to reality. Her demeanor changed completely—now urgent, almost desperate.
"Quick! What colour were his features?" she demanded, leaning over the counter.
"Features?" a mage asked, taken aback by her intensity.
"Hair type, colour, face! Tell me!" Bridget insisted. Cogan instinctively shifted his chair back, recognizing her restlessness.
"We don't know," the first mage confessed.
"We didn't see his face."
"All we know is that he had purple hair, which seemed strange," the second attacker added.
Bridget froze. Hearing those two words—purple hair—her shock deepened, her eyes growing wider. Her extreme reaction left the team speechless. Cogan already suspected that Bridget knew exactly who that stranger was, and he desperately wanted to know the identity of the man who had saved their lives.
"Bridget, who is he?" Cogan asked, his voice now a desperate plea.
Bridget remained quiet for a few tense seconds, a nervous smile flickering across her lips.
"How lucky can you guys actually get?" she finally said, confusing the team even further.
"Who is he, Bridget?" Cogan pressed once more.
Bridget reached into a drawer behind the counter and pulled out a large crystal ball. She placed it down and laid her hand on it. A series of images began to display in the crystal, causing the rest of the team to struggle to their feet, their gazes fixed on the swirling light. It displayed several images of different adventurers, and at one point, Cogan's own face flashed on the screen.
"It really got my good side," he quipped with a smile.
"Show off," the second attacker muttered good-natured, and Cogan laughed. Bridget was momentarily glad to see him smile, but she quickly refocused.
"Is this him?" she said.
The crystal ball's image froze. It was a picture of a young man with purple hair and distinct purple-coloured pupils. Cogan, the mages, and everyone else stepped closer.
"Purple hair, maybe," a mage mused.
"Beats me, didn't really get a good look at his face," Cogan admitted.
Bridget's excited expression instantly fell. But then, a quiet voice cut through the air. No one had noticed the healer, who was staring at the image, her face pale. Memories of last night flooded her mind—the moment the stranger had turned, their gazes meeting, and the terrifying, dull look in his eyes.
"That's him," the healer confirmed, her voice barely a whisper.
Everyone turned to her, and the excitement returned, now doubled.
"How are you so sure?" Cogan asked.
"I was the only one who truly saw him. I will never forget a face," the healer replied, resolute.
hearing her words, Cogan turned back to Bridget, pointing at the image on the crystal ball.
"Who is he?"
Bridget inhaled deeply, her eyes shining with reverence.
"He is one of the most powerful mages of this generation. The Wanderer whose whereabouts are unknown. And the one who single-handedly slayed a Golden Dragon."
Cogan was tired of the dramatic pauses and praises. He understood the guy was powerful, but she didn't need to rub it in.
"He is the Mystic Mage," she finished.
A collective GASP escaped the mages and the healer. They had heard the legends. The Mystic Mage—a mystery, a living legend whispered about in many kingdoms and villages.
An outstanding, powerful person with no known history in any mage school, yet attaining a power that even older, established mages feared.
"The Mystic Mage was in my tavern!" Bridget exclaimed, her professional demeanor dissolving into pure business fervor.
"This would be good for business! You know what, guys? I'll give you double this amount if you can spread the word, and Cogan, you are highly respected among the higher ranks—you could certainly spread the word."
Double of this amount? Cogan thought for a few seconds. He looked at his teammates, who were already beaming with happiness at the prospect of receiving twice their payment.
"We got a deal," he agreed.
Bridget was ecstatic, practically jumping up with excitement.
"Let me go get your money!" she said, turning and walking away.
"Business is about to get a whole lot serious!" She then exited the tavern.
While the others began to jubilate, Cogan stayed rooted to the spot, staring intently at the picture of the Mystic Mage on the crystal ball.
"The Wanderer, Mystic Mage," he murmured, his gaze distant as he recollected the events of the previous night.
"Where are you now?"