As William and the boy approached the beast's massive body on the stage, the world seemed to slow down. William felt an odd calm, surprised that his legs weren't shaking like it was back in the tunnel. He took the knife and felt the weight of the knife in his hand—a finely balanced blade that seemed to promise effortless precision. When he examined the knife's edge, it gleamed with a sharpness that could slice through steel. It felt deadly, a perfect instrument for the job.
Mrs. Chambers glanced between them, her eyes narrowing. "Remember," she warned, "be careful. Damaging the beast's body too much lowers its quality and value, your only job is to carve out the scales."
