That's right, that's what adventure is like!

The Black Ash Fruit tasted much better than expected.

The melt-in-your-mouth fruit flesh releases a warm, sweet aroma, carrying a faint scent of grass and wood ash. It transforms into a warm current that flows into the throat and then quickly spreads to the limbs.

It felt like some kind of living thing was awakening inside my body. The warmth spread rapidly through my blood vessels, and the muscles in the area began to heat up. My tendons reconnected, and even the rampant energy within my body was suppressed.

Roland gradually regained consciousness.

He looked up and saw that Aletta was still holding the remaining fruit peel in her hand, her fingers clenched tightly, her knuckles white.

"It's alright now."

He sat up gently, his gaze sweeping over the severed area on his left arm, where a tingling sensation emanated from, and the blood was rapidly scabbing over.

click -

The scab was deliberately torn off. Roland endured the discomfort in his shoulder, pressed the fruit peel from Aletta's hand onto the cut, and picked up his left arm.

Without needing to align it precisely, countless black threads extended from the flesh of the shoulder, pulling the severed arm across and tightly fitting it to the wound.

As his senses gradually returned, he moved his left arm. His fingers flexed and extended naturally, and the muscle tension remained as if it had never been broken.

This is not without cost.

Under the moonlight, Roland keenly noticed that his neatly trimmed nails had a very faint bluish tint, which faded away in a very short time.

"They came after all."

As a product of the dungeon lord's research, the Black Ash Fruit is inherently a symbol of taboo, and naturally it cannot be without side effects.

Fortunately, judging from Roland's performance just now, this side effect was not obvious; it was just a very slight physical change.

"In the future, we should still use this as a last resort. It's best to avoid using it unless absolutely necessary."

With these thoughts running through his mind, Roland refocused his attention on the battlefield.

Time to collect the loot.

Holding the found coin tightly, a faint glow emerges, revealing any valuable items and making the cleanup much easier.

First, there was Hector's body.

The warrior remained lying face up, the dagger still stuck in his eye socket, and the greatsword he gripped tightly gleamed silver in the moonlight.

Slightly——

The scorching spear was pulled out forcefully, the runes on the spearhead long since extinguished. Roland shook off the congealed blood clots on it, put it back on his back, and then began to search.

The leather pouch at his waist contained several gold coins and a piece of parchment with names written on it, probably a roster of the town hall guards or something similar.

A tendon was wrapped around his left wrist, through which more than a dozen animal teeth were threaded, like some kind of souvenir. Roland put it into his possession.

This kind of thing can be sold on the black market, and I believe some of Hector's enemies would be interested.

Then there was the giant sword.

It was heavier than Roland had anticipated. Although it had many cracks and chips, it was still sharp enough to cut off a finger. He believed it could fetch a good price.

The same principle applies to plate armor, except that the surface is more severely constricted. Roland dismantled the main structure, piled the armor plates together, and tied them into a bundle with Hector's leather straps.

The last find was by Aletta.

Although she was young, she was equally experienced. She skillfully searched every corner of Hector's body and finally found a black-bladed dagger in his boot.

Roland took it and weighed it in his hand. It felt light and airy, and the blade had no reflection, as if it could cut through moonlight.

"It's yours now."

He handed the dagger to Aletta, and seeing her slight surprise, he explained simply, "You deserve some credit for killing him."

Aletta nodded, sheathed her dagger, and then walked towards another corpse not far away.

Austin.

This necromancer also possessed quite a few items.

He lay in a pool of blackened blood, his severed head badly deformed, and a hole in his chest, blasted open by the blood core, oozed some kind of dark golden liquid, which looked quite horrifying in the moonlight.

Aleta, however, had no reservations and squatted down to search without hesitation.

Inside the lining was a torn leather pouch containing 23 gold coins and gemstones of various colors; the quality wasn't high, but the quantity was considerable.

Inside the robe were several bottles of potions; two were familiar life potions, and the other was dark green with floating eyeballs inside.

A system notification popped up.

Eye of Corruption

Type: Poison/Consumable

Rank: Elite (Blue)

Description: A bottle of dark green potion, with rotating eyes inside that seem to be constantly watching the holder. It was a poison personally concocted by a necromancer before a fierce battle, but he failed to use it in time.

Effects: 1. If consumed directly (including when mixed with non-supernatural items), creatures with a constitution below 10 will turn into pus within 30 seconds, contaminating a 3-foot radius around them.

2. Spell Material: This item allows you to cast the "Eye of Corruption" spell, which indiscriminately attacks moving objects within a 10-foot radius.

Note: "My potion-making talent is no less than my mentor's." —A necromancer.

"nice one."

Roland's eyes lit up, and he pocketed the bottle of poison without hesitation.

A constitution of 10 points is something that few people, except for those in formal professions, can withstand, provided that someone can actually drink it without any suspicion.

Unfortunately, this unexpected gain seemed to be over, as he no longer saw any light in his perception of the lost coins.

Even the staff's value was greatly reduced because Austin's spell to summon black needles shattered the black crystal at the top.

However, Aleta stubbornly continued searching.

This persistence has paid off.

She pulled two neatly folded pieces of paper out of her outer pocket.

The first sheet was a list, and Roland didn't recognize any of the names on it, except for the last one, which had been crossed out—a nickname.

Small slag.

Aletta paused for a moment, then opened the second one.

It is a letter.

The material is very special, with a delicate feel to the touch. There are some burn marks on the edges, and the lettering is a bit blurry, as if it has been soaked in some kind of liquid.

The content is very short, only three lines.

"The progress on the blood core is too slow. Keep a close eye on it, especially your mentor. I'm really looking forward to the surprises he'll bring me."

The signature is a black goat with a broken horn.

Roland's pupils contracted slightly, and he subconsciously turned his head to look at Austin, whose face was contorted in rage on the ground.

Sure enough, none of these necromancers were fools.

Given that important figure's style, such letters would surely have been destroyed after being read, but Austin somehow managed to preserve them.

Judging from where this letter was just stored, he had calculated that if he died in this battle, the evidence would fall into Roland's hands.

This is revenge, revenge for that important person forcing him to come here.

"Is that enough?"

Aletta raised her head, the moonlight reflected in her vertical pupils, and a complex emotion flashed in her eyes.

After experiencing a series of events, she learned that there were other hidden reasons behind Little Slag's death, and naturally she harbored hatred towards that important figure.

Faced with the question, Roland paused for a moment, but did not choose to lie: "Whether it's enough or not is not for me to say, but for him to ask."

Turning my gaze into the depths of darkness, I saw the fanatical follower of the Church of the Sun leaning against a tree trunk, gazing intently at the moonlight.

At his feet lay Luca's head.