Stepping out of the moss-lit cavern and into the cool night air felt like walking out of a fever dream.
I raised a hand to rub the back of my neck, taking a long, deep breath of air that finally didn't smell like pulverized goblin gore.
The micro-economy carved into the forest outside the dungeon was a completely different beast at night. The pristine Shrine of Amaterasu was quiet, but the rest of the dirt road was absolutely booming.
Massive fire pits roared in front of the gray processing plant; the very air around the place was a mix of cheap ale, roasting meat, woodsmoke, and goblin carcasses.
I trudged over to the exact same wooden table sitting at the corner of the cave mouth.
And the same heavily armored knight I had spoken to this morning looked up from his thick leather ledger, blinking in surprise to see me walking out on my own two feet with barely any blood on my clothes.
"ID and permit," the knight said, holding out a gauntleted hand.
