Chapter 384: Emergency quest

There was not much to show, but Ilya remained insistent, so Luke gave her a brief tour. His room offered little of interest, and he did not linger there for long before making another suggestion.

"Come. I will show you my small workshop."

Ilya hummed in surprise. "Workshop? You make weapons?"

Luke faintly smiled. "Something more interesting."

Her curiosity was piqued at once, and she followed him toward the back of the house.

The bathhouse was still there, though it had seen little use since its construction. Beside it, beneath a makeshift shed, lay everything Luke needed to prepare his best equipment before every hunt. The space was modest, but every tool and ingredient had its place, arranged according to the method he had gradually developed through experience.

Ilya’s gaze swept over the various containers and ingredients before settling on one of them.

"Potions." She nodded knowingly. "So I was right. You make them yourself."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "You knew?"

"Guessed it." She shrugged. "I have seen you use them on yourself and others a couple of times. And considering how difficult it is to get your hands on even a single potion, I realized you must be the one making them."

Luke nodded. "Well, you are right. I have yet to meet a single person who brews them."

If given the opportunity, Luke would have liked to see how other potion brewers practiced their craft and what sort of equipment they relied upon. Although he had acquired a certain mastery over potion-making, particularly when it came to low and medium-grade potions, he still had not figured out the most efficient method of producing them.

There were countless little details he wanted to understand. The precise order in which ingredients were added, the temperature at which each mixture was maintained, and the equipment experienced brewers considered indispensable. His own methods had been built largely through the system knowledge and trial and error method, and while they worked, he wanted to observe others’ experience on the matter too.

Unfortunately, there was little opportunity to learn from anyone else.

When he had once asked Baldon about the potions he possessed, as well as those kept by nearly every chief for emergencies, Baldon had told him that they were obtained from someone in the head tribe. Whoever brewed them was far beyond Luke’s immediate reach.

So, there was no hope of meeting another brewer anytime soon.

"Then surely, you would have a good conversation with the sages back in our tribe," Ilya told him. "Back in my village, there is a small community of people who possess vast knowledge about the herbs and other materials used to make them."

Luke tilted his head and asked, "Why this sudden enthusiasm to bring me back to your place? Do you want to flaunt your authority there?"

"Want to hear the truth?" Ilya asked, her eyes widening with an almost innocent expression.

Luke considered her question for a moment before shaking his head. "I can’t leave the village for a long duration, and bringing my family along for such a long journey isn’t possible at the moment. You see, our last trip was a disaster."

Ilya sighed. "I was expecting that answer. And I can’t lie to you by saying we would reach there in a day. Normally, if you’re traveling alone on horseback, it would take almost four days to get here."

With a carriage and several people who weren’t accustomed to long journeys, the trip would take nearly twice as long. They both understood that there was no point pretending otherwise.

Luke nodded. "Then let’s postpone the plan."

Ilya froze.

"You mean..." Her eyes brightened with surprise. "You aren’t against it? You actually plan to visit my tribe?"

Luke gave her an assuring smile. "I love wandering around and seeing the world. It’s a shame I haven’t been to many places yet, but that doesn’t mean I intend to remain confined to the same few lands forever. I’ll continue expanding my experience by visiting different places and meeting different people."

He nodded toward her.

"Your tribe has already become one of my destinations."

Ilya faintly smiled at that and said, "Whenever you come there, ask for me. And if someone blocks your path or questions your words, show them this."

She suddenly drew her dagger, sheath and all, and extended it toward him.

Luke’s brows rose as he accepted it. He immediately understood what it represented. This was no ordinary weapon. It was a permit, one that would grant him a direct path to the royal family of the tribe.

’Seriously, now I have the permits of both rival tribes on me, and I haven’t even visited either of them.’

Previously, Claw had given him a permit in the form of a necklace. Now Ilya had done the same.

Luke glanced at the dagger in his hand and couldn’t help but feel that his list of destinations was becoming more complicated by the day.

He really needed to plan his itinerary soon.

Just then, Monica called out, "Luke, food is prepared! Come inside soon."

Luke replied, "Yeah, I heard you."

He then turned to Ilya and said, "You must be hungry. Should we go?"

Ilya nodded, and soon the two of them began walking back toward the house.

"I was thinking, would you like to go hunting tomorrow morning? Since I might be leaving any time soon, I’d like to make the most of the time I have left here."

Her voice carried a faint note of hope. She wanted to spend as much of these final moments with him as she could.

"Hmm?"

She paused when she realized Luke was no longer walking beside her. He hadn’t answered either.

Turning around, she found him standing completely still, his eyes fixed on something invisible, a tight frown creasing his brow.

"Luke?"

Luke finally tore his gaze away from the system notification hovering before his eyes.

"Go inside. I’ll be there in a moment."

Ilya hesitated, clearly confused by his sudden behavior, but Luke’s expression gave her little room to argue.

He had genuinely wanted to spend the afternoon with his friend and family. After everything that had happened, a peaceful meal and a few quiet hours together sounded more appealing than anything else.

But how could he possibly do that when a crimson system screen was glaring at him, its message leaving no room for misunderstanding?

[Emergency Quest!]

[Clear the First Floor, now!]

[Time remaining: 8 hours]

[Hurry, host!]