Beastbound: Awakening the Hunter

A magic staff could significantly speed up learning and casting orange-tier spells.

Oliver pondered this idea.

It wasn’t new to him—he’d heard it before.

A staff, with its intricate magical runes, focused and channeled the wielder’s mana, making spellcasting far more efficient. It also allowed apprentices to observe how mana flowed through the staff, helping them better understand the mechanics of orange-tier spells. A quality staff could truly elevate one’s mastery of magic.

However, staves were costly. Even the cheapest ones demanded at least a dozen gold coins, a price that made most students balk. Hector reminded him that someone like him would struggle to afford one.

Typically, Professor Arcanus would gift a standard-issue staff to his core apprentices. But Oliver had been deemed more suited to knighthood and had already received an enchanted steel sword imbued with fire magic. Another gift—a staff—was unlikely.

“A staff, huh... It’s time to put that red core I got from the Shatterbeast to use,” Oliver thought.

He threw himself back into training. By the time night fell, he’d successfully cast Rockstorm twice. The orange-tier spell was as destructive as he’d imagined—massive boulders rained down like a deadly storm, utterly pulverizing the straw dummies in the academy’s training grounds.

A crowd of noble students gathered, awestruck.

“Wait, isn’t Oliver supposed to have talent for knighthood?”

“His magic skills seem just as impressive!”

“To cast an orange-tier spell so soon? Even if luck played a role, that’s still incredible!”

The comparison was inevitable. James and Daniel, who had enrolled alongside Oliver, were still grappling with red-tier magic. Oliver’s progress seemed almost unfair.

As darkness settled over the academy, Oliver made an excuse to part ways with his peers. Instead of returning to the village with James and the others, he donned a hooded cloak to disguise himself and headed toward the town’s black market.

His destination: Scorchforge Smithy.

This forge, known for its anonymous transactions, specialized in crafting swords and staves.

Even from a distance, Oliver could see its massive chimneys spewing thick, black smoke into the night sky. As he approached, waves of heat rolled out, a stark contrast to the biting cold of late autumn.

Inside, the smithy was a furnace of activity. Several burly men, sweat streaming down their soot-streaked faces, hammered away at glowing metal. Tankards of ale sat within arm’s reach, adding to the lively, almost festive atmosphere.

The shop’s owner, a stout man with a sun-colored beard, glanced up briefly from his work.

“Here to buy something?” he grunted, his hammer striking a glowing ingot.

“I need a staff,” Oliver replied.

The hammer stopped mid-swing. The stout man raised his head, scrutinizing Oliver.

“I want a staff made from this. Can you do it?”

Oliver pulled out the red magic core he’d retrieved from the Shatterbeast.

The smith’s demeanor shifted instantly. He carefully accepted the core, inspecting it with reverence. “This is high-quality stuff,” he muttered. “The beast you took this from must’ve been ferocious.”

His respect for Oliver deepened.

“To craft a staff from this, the costs vary. Using the cheapest materials would be 500 silver coins, mid-tier materials 1,500 silver, and the finest—5,000 silver coins.”

Five thousand silver coins?

Oliver’s breath hitched for a moment, his surprise safely concealed beneath his hood. He had always assumed that a basic staff would cost around a dozen gold coins—roughly 1,200 silver.

But this was no ordinary staff. Premium staves could easily cost several dozen gold coins, even climbing to a hundred or more for the finest craftsmanship. In that context, 50 gold coins—5,000 silver—seemed a fair price for a premium staff.

Fair, perhaps, but far beyond what Oliver could currently afford.

“I’ll go with mid-tier materials,” Oliver said, keeping his tone steady. “I can offer this as partial payment.”

He handed over a sizable shard of the Shatterbeast’s outer shell.

“This piece weighs about five kilograms and is in excellent condition,” he added.

The smith retrieved a gilded magnifying glass from a nearby drawer and began meticulously examining the shard. After several minutes, he nodded.

“Master Mage, this fragment is indeed superb crafting material. However, to confirm its value at 1,500 silver, I’ll need to see the rest of the beast’s shell. Bring the full piece within three days, and I’ll begin gathering the materials for your staff. Does that work?”

The smith’s tone was now one of utmost deference. To him, only a true mage could have slain a Shatterbeast. What he didn’t know was that Oliver wasn’t even a fully-fledged mage yet.

“That’s fine,” Oliver replied with a smile.

After finalizing the arrangement, Oliver left the smithy with a spring in his step. The smith, who introduced himself as Andre, promised that the staff would be ready in no more than seven days.

“My very own staff!” Oliver thought, excitement bubbling within him. With it, his combat prowess would undoubtedly soar.

But he’d also emptied his coin pouch once again.

Determined to recover his finances, Oliver headed into the forest. Conveniently, just moments ago, his familiar Shatterbeast and the tiger had sent him a message.

A new magical creature had been spotted!