Maximum Intimidation Knight In a World Full of Mages-Chapter 21 : Merchants shall know the weight of my purse

[Cavern Slime King defeated]
Reward: 49 EXP
1 King Slime Core (Rare)
2 Slime Core (Common)
EXP: 1695/2750
The EXP reward for the Slime King was really not worth it. No amount of EXP was worth nearly getting flattened by a five-meter puddle of sentient goo.
Not to mention I had no use for slime cores. They were typically used for alchemy or homunculus creation, none of which I had talent for, or in Anabeth’s case, summoning. Common slime cores were cheap and required me to bring jars along to store, which made them not nearly worth it.
After the Slime King dissolved into a shimmering puddle of residual aether, the cores coalesced from the ambient magic, slowly forming in midair like miniature orbs of condensed essence. Sometimes, like today, they’d form in the shape of a loot chest. It was always a little eerie, watching them stabilize and float before your eyes, reminding you that even in death, monsters left behind traces of themselves in the aether. But then I stopped feeling bad. A few hours from now, another Slime King would bubble up from the dungeon floor, wobbling and gurgling, ready to be flattened all over again. Their ‘death’ was just a brief pause in an endless cycle.
While I was still mentally cataloging the fight and the dubious value of my EXP, Anabeth had already moved closer to the floating cores.  She carefully extended her hands, letting the aetheric essence swirl around her fingers before gently coaxing the common slime cores into small containment spheres. Then, she floated each sphere into the jars she’d brought along.
I could only stare at her. She could have just used magic to hold them all at once, no jars necessary, but no, she had packed half a pantry of glassware for a single dungeon run.
“Excellent!” She clasped her hands together once more. “With this many samples, I can produce as many as three Stone Golems, if luck allows it.”
Three stone golems . . .
Ah, the cruel mathematics of thaumaturgy! All this toil, the careful gathering, the delicate containment of these irreplaceable slime cores . . . only for the reward of three Stone Golems. Three! And what fate awaits them, I ask? Mere seconds after her whim, they would dissolve back into aether, vanishing as if they had never existed.
I finally tore my eyes away from Anabeth and turned toward the loot chest. This King Slime dropped a rare item, which meant this was at least a Low Tier II dungeon. Whatever in the chest would fetch me much more than the measly 420 Kohns I’d gotten from the pawnshop in Dunswell.
I picked up the first item, weighing it in my hand. It was smooth and cold, a strange, polished stone with etchings carved across its surface. The lines formed intricate patterns, almost like the designs on my sword’s hilt, but somehow older and more arcane. Anabeth had mentioned once that such markings were called Runes, inscriptions designed to hold magical properties. Whether they would explode, heal, or sing when exposed to moonlight, I couldn’t say.
The next piece was smaller and oddly angular. Etched into it was a whimsical little figure—a stickman riding a snail, or at least that’s what it looked like to my tired eyes. I thought that since these were stones and they obviously had carvings on them, they would give me Quests. But apparently if they didn’t glow, they didn’t count.
The final piece was tucked into a corner of the chest. I picked it up carefully. It was a small dagger, no longer than my forearm, and its blade was . . . slimy. Etched along the fuller were more runes, of course. I wondered if you could ever wash away the slime from the thing, or did it just excrete more slime the longer you hold it.
I glanced at the three items in my hands: two stones and a slimy little dagger. If Anabeth knew these were rocks with runes, she’d insist on taking them with her for study. I couldn’t exactly argue with her scholarly zeal.
Part of me wanted to slip the stones and dagger into my satchel and quietly sell them off. But then another part of me reminded me: my code strongly advised against obfuscation.
I’d already lied too much to survive this dungeon. To keep this information for myself, knowing full well I could, would be hypocrisy squared. But I had been in danger before, and options were limited. Now, I had one chance to be truthful without being cornered.
I approached Anabeth with the three items in hand. Her eyes lit up immediately, and she leaned in, examining the stones first. “Look at your loot! These are indeed highly aetherically saturated rare quartz.” She lifted the polished stone in her hand. “This one is
Heart of Aether
. Its runes are exquisite, capable of storing considerable energy if handled correctly.” Then she held the smaller, whimsical stone between her fingers. “And this is
Snailstride
. Oddly determined little thing, very much alive in its own aetheric way. It doesn’t do anything, but doesn’t it look fascinating?”
She wasn’t going to ask to keep them for study? She seemed content just to identify them. My shoulders relaxed.
Then she tilted her head and asked, casual but curious, “And what are you going to do with them?”
I hesitated only for a heartbeat before answering truthfully.
‘I’ll sell them.’
“I will contribute to the local economy,” I actually declared, “through the judicious deployment of these assets. Merchants shall know the weight of my purse, and coins shall flow as rivers from the coffers of fools who undervalue rare and magical artifacts. Let none doubt that the acquisition of such wealth is a matter not merely of survival, but of . . . inevitability.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Ah, of course. You intend to expend the proceeds of this dungeon to buy the only Aetheric Profile Mapping Matrix in all of Dunswell, am I correct? So that I cannot ascertain your aetheric signature personally.”
‘Aetheric Profile Mapping Matrix?’
I wanted to ask.
“EXPLAIN NOW,” I actually said. “THIS IS A TEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE. WHAT IS AN ‘AETHERIC PROFILE MAPPING MATRIX’?”
“Oh, it is quite splendid, really. The Aetheric Profile Mapping Matrix, you see, is a most ingenious contraption. It charts an individual’s aetheric signature with exquisite precision, revealing the full spectrum of magical potential one might possess. Since I lack the capability to determine your profile, I can simply purchase one such matrix from the high magus fully capable of such appraisal. Simply marvelous, isn’t it?”
That . . . was ridiculous. And perfect. Just what I needed to complete the ongoing task.
“Unfortunately, each matrix would cost north of a thousand Kohns,” she said.
Never mind. I didn’t need it anymore.
“But of course,” she continued, eyes sparkling, “given the extraordinary difficulty of crafting such a device and the meticulous precision required in its calibration, only a handful of Aetheric Profile Mapping Matrices exist at any given time. And the demand—oh, the demand!—is quite formidable. Wealthy families clamor for them to determine the aetheric aptitude of their children before the next enrollment season at the premier magical academies. You see, you see!” She waved a finger around. “Some would pay a king’s ransom simply to ensure their progeny are placed in the most advantageous curriculum.”
I stared at my Aetheric Point attribute.
AP: 1/1
Technically, I wasn’t aetherless. A single drop of aether coursed through me. But was it even worth the price of a thousand Kohns to determine what that drop could do? What if the Matrix revealed . . . nothing?
Yet, if that were the case, my AP would have read zero, not one. And then there was Ceralis. This cryptic entity had already guided me through challenges I could never have survived on my own. Each boon had been net positive. Surely it didn’t point me toward my aetheric profile just for it to amount to nothing.
I turned back to Anabeth and declared, “I shall see that these spoils are sold and the Aetheric Profile Mapping Matrix acquired now.”