Bottomless.

Steven trudged back to town, his heart still hammering from the fight, the rabbit fur draped over his shoulder like a trophy. Curious, and with a flicker of mana left, he cast Purify on himself. A cool wave washed over him, his pulse steadying instantly, the lingering warmth of the spiced drink vanishing. His brows furrowed—legal, perhaps, but that water had been laced with something potent. “Next time, I’ll stick to plain water or juice,” he muttered, relieved to be rid of the artificial fire.

At the city gate, a guard with a thick, pirate-like drawl halted him. “Oi, mate, ID?” Steven handed over his card, and the guard’s craggy face split into a grin. “Welcome back, adventurer. Heard ‘bout ye—washed up on the shore, eh? Stats comin’ along nicely. Keep it up, lad.” His politeness clashed with his broken speech, but Steven nodded, striding into town toward the guild, eager for his reward. Then a pang hit him—he had no proof beyond the Rabbit Fur of Fury. “Shit,” he hissed, kicking himself for not collecting the smaller rabbits’ horns.

Inside the guild, a new face greeted him behind the desk—not the woman with the colossal hips, but a younger clerk with a playful smile. “Hey! Steven, right? The lucky shipwreck survivor. Nasty business, those waves—I’d never set foot on a ship. Land’s my love,” she teased, her tone flirty as she leaned forward. He slid the quest paper across, and she chirped, “ID, hon.” He obliged, and she slotted it into the rune-etched machine. It hummed, glowed, and spat the card back out. Her eyes widened. “Oh, you’ve been busy! Thirty-seven horned rabbits and a greater one? For a fresh-off-the-shore nobody, that’s impressive. We reward overachievers here—farmer could only pay 2 copper per rabbit, 20 copper total. But for your haul, the guild’s tossing in a bonus: 1 silver. Total’s 1 silver, 20 copper. Hold on.”

She slipped through a back door, the clink of metal echoing before she returned, sliding a wooden tray across the counter—1 silver coin and 20 copper stacked in neat piles of five. Steven scooped them up, stuffing them into his pocket and cinching the drawstring tight to keep his sagging slacks aloft, the rabbit furs still slung over his shoulder. “Y’know,” she said, smirking, “magic bags exist. Cheap ones, too, for small loads.” His mind exploded—Bottomless bags?! “How much?” he blurted, barely containing his glee. “Basic 5-slot bag’s 1 silver. We sell ‘em here if you’re keen.” Giddy as a kid, he nodded, and she ducked back, returning with a palm-sized pouch. “1 silver, please.” He fished out the largest coin and handed it over.

“So, this holds five items?” he asked, cradling the bag. “Yep,” she replied. “Stacked items count as one. Your 10 furs? One slot. Here—” She held out a hand. He passed the furs, and as they brushed the bag’s mouth, they vanished. “Wow, how’s that work?” he marveled. She laughed. “You’ve done magic, right? Trained with Melissa Veylthorne, I hear. Just think ‘go in,’ and it does. To pull something out, think what and how many. Try it.” He gripped the bag, picturing “one Rabbit Fury Fur”—it materialized above the opening, soft and crimson-streaked. “COOL!” he gasped, eyes wide. She chuckled, winking. “Really from the boonies, huh? Oh—looking for Melissa? She’s downstairs, training a newbie. Go on down.”

With a playful “go get her, big boy” vibe in her grin, Steven descended the familiar stairs and corridors, emerging into the sandy training hall. There sat Melissa on a bench, guiding another gnome through arcane principles, her silver hair glinting under the glowing orbs. “Hey, Melissa,” he called, “sorry to interrupt, but could you help me when you’ve got a sec?” Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded. “Of course, Steven. I’d love to. Just finishing up—another hour if you’ll wait.” He agreed, settling in.

An hour later, the recruit unleashed a Holy Fireball, scorching sand into glass before departing. Melissa turned to him, still blushing. “So, what can I help you with?” He leaned forward. “Is there an Identify spell? Does it exist?” Her eyes lit up, magic her passion. “Oh, yes! It’s trickier, but I can teach you—for a fee.” He smirked playfully. “How much?” “1 copper,” she replied, matching his tone. He fished out a coin and handed it over. “Ooo, someone finished a quest,” she teased, pocketing it. With a flick, a book materialized from her own small magic pouch, and she flipped through it assertively, landing on Identify. “Here.” She passed it to him.

Steven studied the page—focus, intent, mental sigils, silent incantations. He pulled a fur from his bag, trying the spell. Three attempts failed, and a wave of dizziness hit. “I feel woozy,” he groaned. “Your mana’s low,” she said. “Hit zero, and you’ll faint. Eat something—let’s grab lunch.” They climbed to the dining hall, where Melissa handed a copper to the counter lady, returning with roasted chicken, a baked potato topped with a creamy dollop, and glazed carrots. “That looks amazing,” Steven said, salivating. He paid his copper, got the same, and they sat together.

Over the meal, she probed him. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” He dodged with a grin, “Oh, just picked it up—natural talent, y’know?” Her eyes narrowed, but she pressed on. “Favorite food back home?” “Anything hearty,” he replied, keeping it vague yet flirty, his tone teasing. “You’re a mystery, Shatterkynn,” she murmured, blushing. Refreshed, she urged, “Try again.” He pulled a fur, focusing hard—eight tries, but finally, a translucent window flared in his vision: “Rabbit Fury Fur. Properties: Strong Fur, great for armor. Ideal for crafting lightweight gloves with enhanced striking power.”

He zeroed in on the last bit. “Hey, it says ‘enhanced striking power’ for gloves. Could that mean more damage if I made them into fist weapons?” Her eyes widened, sparkling like an anime heroine’s. “Brilliant! Yes, I’d wager it would boost your punches. You’re a puzzle of adventure, Steven!” He smirked. “Who’d craft these? Not a blacksmith—metal’s not right.” She leapt up. “A leatherworker! I know just the one—Trish. Bit mad, but brilliant. Come on!” He followed her out into the city, weaving through streets lined with squat shops, wooden signs swaying overhead. They stopped at one, and Melissa called, “Hey, Trish! Got something interesting for you!”