Night had already fallen by the time the Leviathan's body was fully secured. Large mana lamps illuminated the deck of Alfred's vessel, casting long, shifting shadows over the massive corpse as the crew worked without pause. Humans and lycans moved in practiced coordination, specialized blades and tools cutting through flesh and scales hardened like steel.
The materials harvested from a Leviathan were always valuable. Its scales were commonly used to craft high-grade armor, resistant to extreme pressure, while its teeth were prized for forging exceptionally sharp weapons. There was no debate regarding the spoils—the item belonged to Trafalgar. He had been the one to deal directly with the beast. No one questioned that.
They worked quickly. Trafalgar watched in silence as humans and lycans dismantled the Leviathan with near-mechanical efficiency. There was something almost mesmerizing about the process. Still, a different kind of curiosity surfaced in his mind.
