The butchery was just a five-minute walk from Florence's shop, tucked into the far edge of the village square beside an herbalist's kiosk and a residential building.
On the outside, it looked no different than any other merchant storefront — wide windows, a carved wooden sign depicting crossed cleavers, and the smell of smoke curling from the chimneys above.
But the moment Ezekiel stepped inside, the illusion of normalcy fell away.
The air was thick with a sharp, metallic tang — raw meat, dried blood, smoked fat. It was almost overwhelming, especially now that his newly unlocked Perception stat had turned every scent into a vivid experience.
His nose burned faintly, and for a moment, he had to breathe through his mouth to resist gagging. The place smelled alive — despite everything in it being very much dead.
Tools lined the walls — knives, hooks, bone saws, and cleaving axes, all immaculately clean and hung with precision. A long glass display stretched across the room, behind which various cuts of beast meat rested on chilled slabs.
Some were familiar: ribs of Three-Horned Ox, flanks of Berserk Boar, and neatly trimmed portions of Silver-Striped Rabbit and Feral Wolf. Others were exotic, rarer: purple-marbled Chimera Alligator tail, and glistening marrow bones sealed in waxed cloth.
Even the offcuts were for sale — beast fat by the pound, tongues, livers, and tendon bundles stacked neatly in bins.
Being the only butchery in all of Fwerah, the shop was bustling, its interior deceptively large and filled with NPC villagers — hunters, cooks, homemakers — all waiting in line for their chosen cuts.
Conversations echoed through the space, blending with the clink of scales and the thump of cleavers on chopping blocks.
Ezekiel lined up quietly, scanning the offerings as he waited his turn. Ten minutes passed before he reached the counter, where a towering man stepped forward to greet him.
The butcher was massive — nearly three meters tall, with a broad chest like a fortress wall. His exposed arms were thick and hairy, crisscrossed with old scars. His face bore the same history, one cheek marred by a jagged claw mark that had never healed properly.
And yet, for all his brutish appearance, when he spoke —
"Welcome, traveler. What'll it be today?"
— his voice came out smooth as aged whiskey, deep and resonant. It was the kind of voice that could hold a tavern crowd in rapt silence or sing a lullaby across mountaintops. Ezekiel raised a brow in surprise.
"I wasn't expecting a bard's voice in a butcher's frame," he said.
The man grinned, showing perfect teeth. "Comes with the job. Makes the screaming beasts a little calmer when you gut them."
That made Ezekiel chuckle.
"I'm looking for something specific," he said. "Do you carry Mud Rhino meat?"
That drew a pause.
The butcher's brow furrowed ever so slightly, and behind Ezekiel, a few conversations in the queue quieted.
"Mud Rhino, huh?" The man echoed, contemplative. "Well, I won't waste your time. We're out. Supply's been dry for months now — not just the meat, but also the heart, which I'm guessing is what you're really after."
Ezekiel gave a slow nod.
Mud Rhinos were one of many residents of the swamps around the Level 20 Death Swamp Dungeon he planned to tackle later. They were massive beasts — bulky, armored, territorial. Even a juvenile was larger than a war elephant. A mature one could plow through siege walls.
But it wasn't just the meat that made them valuable.
It was the heart.
Processed correctly — dried, aged, and cured into jerky — the Mud Rhino Heart became a rare delicacy that granted random bonus stat points upon consumption.
Strength, stamina, and vitality — all essential stats, especially for physical classes. Even one pound could be worth five gold coins or more in the right circles.
To nobles? It was a luxury.
To NPCs without system-assisted stat progression?
It was a miracle.
But there was a catch. The heart was toxic in its raw form. Lethally so. Eating even a sliver without proper preparation could destroy the digestive tract or worse. Only a handful of techniques, guarded by expert herbalists or alchemists, could render it safe.
"I take it you don't expect a shipment anytime soon," Ezekiel said.
"Not unless the Level 30 guards suddenly learn how to hunt Level 40 beasts," the man replied with a chuckle. "The last Mud Rhino we saw was five months ago — and it nearly flattened the southern granary. Guard squad lost three men just trying to divert it back into the swamps. They're too big, too strong, and too damn smart."
Ezekiel leaned in slightly.
"What if I told you I could get it? Not just a few pounds — but a large-volume supply. Meat, heart, everything."
The effect was immediate.
The butcher straightened up, a sharp gleam entering his eyes. The easy grin vanished, replaced by something far more serious.
Behind Ezekiel, murmurs broke out again. A few villagers openly turned to stare, their expressions painted with surprise and curiosity over his identity.
"You serious?" The man asked, voice low now.
Ezekiel nodded once. "Completely."
The butcher stared at him for a long moment, measuring something.
"Give me a minute," he said, turning his head. "Laura!"
Moments later a door in the far right corner of the shop swung open, and a young woman stepped out. A bloodstained white apron hung over a plain linen dress, her dark hair tucked beneath a cap, and her face half-concealed by an equally stained white cloth mask.
Her brown eyes were sharp and expressive — and currently flashing with impatience.
The sudden appearance of such a bloody individual sent shivers down the spines of many onlookers.
"What?" She called, arms already crossed, ignoring the blatant stares she was receiving.
"Take the counter. I need to speak with the Baroness."
Laura arched a brow. "Again?"
"Business," he said with a grin.
She sighed but didn't argue. "Fine. Don't take forever — I just finished the Berserk Boar batch. Need a break."
"You're the best," he replied, already ducking back through the counter's side gate.
He gave Ezekiel a quick nod. "Come on."
Ezekiel followed him through the swinging door behind the counter and into a narrow back hallway. The smell of blood gave way to a mix of iron, smoke, and something vaguely herbal. The light wooden floor creaked faintly under their steps.
After a few twists and turns, they reached a steep wrought-iron staircase spiraling upward.
"Wait here," the man said, planting a meaty hand on the rail. "I'll let her know you're coming."
"Sure." Ezekiel leaned casually against the wall.
The butcher disappeared up the stairs, his heavy leather boots thudding softly against the iron. Ezekiel closed his eyes and listened. His enhanced hearing picked up muffled voices above — too faint to make out clearly, but definitely two of them. One male. One female.
A few minutes later, the butcher returned, his expression bright.
"She'll see you. Come on up."
Ezekiel pushed off the wall and followed him up the spiral steps, his own footfalls light by comparison.
"If what you said earlier holds true," the man added over his shoulder, a grin pulling at his face, "then there's definitely a deal to be made."
Ezekiel didn't answer. He just smiled — a small, knowing curve of the lips — and kept climbing.
The second floor of the butchery felt like stepping into a different world.
The scent of blood and sinew faded into something homier — wood polish, warm smoke, and faint lavender incense. The walls here were lined with polished hunting trophies and old leather-bound books.
A hand-woven rug stretched across the floor, bearing the faded symbol of a long-forgotten beast guild.
Ezekiel's eyes were still exploring when he heard the soft scrape of a chair being pushed back.
"Ah! So this is our brave Rhino Hunter!"
The voice came before the sight — bright, cheerful, and full of mischief.
Baroness Perrie Tannick stood behind a wide desk piled with parchment and ink jars. She was shorter than Ezekiel had expected — maybe five foot at most — but broad-shouldered and solidly built, with the kind of arms that could haul a carcass twice her weight.
Her green apron was stained but clean, and her exposed forearms were crisscrossed with old, faded scars.
Her skin was a deep sun-kissed bronze, and her hair — thick, curly, brown — was tied up in a messy bun. Her eyes were a brilliant, leafy green. They sparkled as she smiled and gestured toward the chair across from her desk.
"Come, sit. Goren told me you had something wild to say. And not just in the usual village gossip kind of way."
Ezekiel took the seat, his posture relaxed. Confident. He noted how warm the room felt. Not just the fireplace burning low behind her — Perrie herself had that heat. Friendly. Grounded.
"I said I could supply Mud Rhino meat," he told her with a smile.
The butcher — Goren — should have already divulged in the details but looked like Perrie still needed to hear it directly from him.
Her eyebrows shot up, amused.
"Well, you've certainly got style, I'll give you that. But, uh…" — she leaned forward, squinting slightly — "unless your Level's a well-hidden illusion, you're not even twenty, are you?"
Ezekiel smiled faintly. "Not quite. But close."
She gave a long, low whistle.
"Stars above. I've seen guards twice your level come back limping from a single juvenile. And you're out here making deals like you're about to roll a barrel of heart jerky through my door."
"I don't make promises I can't keep," he shrugged.
Perrie tilted her head, watching him for a few seconds. Then she leaned back and gave a hearty laugh.
"Well, that makes two of us in this village."
She kicked her boots up onto the edge of the desk and crossed her arms behind her head.
"Alright, then. Let's say I believe you. Let's say you've got some tricks up your sleeves — being a blessed one and all, or maybe just sheer audacity. You're saying you can bring me actual Mud Rhino meat. Processed heart, too?"
"That's right. Although, it will be a one-time deal, I guarantee the quality." Ezekiel smiled without hesitation.
Had it been anyone else, the Baroness might have dismissed those words as arrogant bluster — the empty bravado of a fool with no grasp of scale.
But this one wasn't like the rest.
From what she could tell, he wasn't far from earning a noble title himself. And it hadn't even been a full day since the Blessed Individuals had appeared in Enia.
She'd already heard whispers about the miraculous rescue of villagers long thought lost — victims of that tragic incident ten years ago. If the rumors were true, and this man was their mysterious savior, it would explain his unusually high reputation.
Even if he wasn't, the mere fact that he'd come this far, this quickly, spoke volumes.
Perrie found herself paying attention. This was not someone she could afford to ignore.
Her boots came back down. The smile faded just a touch, replaced with something more formal.
"Then let's talk numbers."
She reached beneath the desk and pulled out a slate of dark stone, etched with pale blue glyphs. A contract slate — magical, but simple. NPCs used them to bind business agreements. Failure at fulfilling the agreement would end with the loss of a large number of reputation points.
"You bring the meat — fresh and weighed — I'll pay twenty gold per hundred pounds. Processed heart, assuming it's cured properly and passes test-batch inspection, five gold per pound. Sound fair?"
It was exactly the market price and Ezekiel was satisfied.
"Very," he nodded.
"But," she added, holding up a finger, "you bring me bad product — anything unfit for sale — and I don't pay a copper. You cover the loss. I don't mean to be harsh, love, but this stuff kills people if it's not treated right."
"I know the risk," Ezekiel said with a mirthful smile. "Rest assured, I don't plan on mass poisoning your esteemed clients. I might need to deal with them directly in the future, after all."
Perrie paused and blinked in surprise before she burst out in a boisterous laughter.
"Hah! Goren was right. You have the eyes of a shrewd merchant!"
Her cheeks flushed from the force of her glee.
"Very well. While my contacts are limited to the Klarincè Kingdom, I am happy to play the role of a bridge, as long as the commission is right, of course."
"Absolutely," Ezekiel agreed easily.
This was the main purpose of his deal with Perrie, after all. He'd always liked working with smart people.
The Baroness nodded in approval and tapped the slate. The glyphs shimmered and reformed, adjusting the terms with quick finger strokes.
"You're sharper than you look, Ezekiel. But do me a favor, will you?"
"What's that?" He raised a brow, surprised.
"Don't die over this." Her smile softened. "Mud Rhinos aren't a fair fight. You're tough, I can tell. But I've buried tough boys before. And I don't like wasting good meat — especially the two-legged kind."
Ezekiel nodded, touched by the sentiment.
"I'll be back with a full shipment. I'm not the dying kind."
"We'll see," she said, chuckling. "Now sign this before I start getting fond of you."
He pressed his hand to the slate. His name shimmered in gold. Perrie pressed hers right after — her title and name, Baroness Perrie Tannick, flared to life beside his.
The contract sealed with a quiet pulse of magic.
No system quest appeared this time — but that was expected. This was a deal made outside the boundaries of the game's scripted path.
Perrie leaned back, her smile returning in full.
"I'll have two warehouses cleared and ready. You'd best be prepared to fill them."
Ezekiel stood, matching her smile with one of his own.
"I'll do my best not to disappoint the Baroness."