Noah stared at the inventory screen, his eyes scanning through the organized categories of cores. Two hundred eighty-four category fours. A hundred fifty-six category threes. Forty-seven category twos. And sitting at the bottom, glowing faintly even through the digital display, three category five cores.
'All this wealth,' Noah thought, 'and I have absolutely no idea what any of it actually does.'
The system listed them by category, which told him their general power level. But that was it. No descriptions of properties, no indication of elemental affinities, no explanation of what made a core from a fire-breathing drake different from one harvested from an ice-aspected wolf.
He'd been collecting these things for months, just absorbing cores automatically whenever he killed something, trusting that eventually they'd be useful. But now, faced with actually needing to combine materials intelligently, he realized how little he understood about what he'd accumulated.
