Orion hoisted the deer onto his shoulders, feeling the weight of its cultivated body pressing down on him. The forest, once a backdrop to their fierce duel, now stood silent, as if paying its respects to the fallen creature. Orion began his journey back to Frostbridge, each step bringing a blend of satisfaction and contemplation.
To the untrained eye, this deer would seem just like any other, but to those in the know, a cultivated beast was a prize. When a beast cultivates, it absorbs the energy of the world, transforming its body. Its flesh becomes denser, its bones sturdier, and its blood purer. Consuming such a beast would not only provide nourishment but also offer minor healing and restorative properties. A single meal made from a cultivated beast could sustain a man far longer than a meal made from a regular animal.
Moreover, the body parts of cultivated beasts were treasured in various crafts. Their bones, stronger and more resilient, could be fashioned into superior weapons and tools. Their hide, tougher yet supple, was sought after by armor-makers and blacksmiths. Even their organs held value, being used in various concoctions and remedies.
These qualities made cultivated beasts a lucrative catch, and many hunters pursued them, knowing the risks involved. The stronger the cultivation of the beast, the higher the reward. But with higher reward came increased danger. Orion’s encounter with the deer, though challenging, was considered a minor skirmish compared to facing off against some of the mightier cultivated creatures that roamed the lands.
As he made his way back to Frostbridge, he couldn’t help but reflect on the balance of power in nature. The very act of cultivation, whether by man or beast, was an attempt to rise above the natural order, to claim a higher position in the hierarchy of the world. Yet, even with all their power, both man and beast remained bound by the cycle of life and death.
Reaching the outskirts of Frostbridge, Orion was met with curious and, in some cases, awestruck glances. The sight of a lone man, carrying a beast of considerable size, was enough to garner attention. As he moved through the streets, whispers filled the air, some in admiration, some in envy.
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He made his way to the city's marketplace, where various merchants displayed their goods, and hunters showcased their latest catches. As he approached one of the stalls known for buying cultivated beasts, the merchant, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, appraised his catch.
"A cultivated deer, I see," she remarked, her gaze scrutinizing the deer. "Not the most powerful, but a commendable catch nonetheless."
Orion nodded, "How much can I get for it?"
The merchant took a moment, her fingers brushing over the deer's fur, feeling its texture, its density. "Given its level of cultivation and overall condition, I'll offer you fifty silver coins."
Orion raised an eyebrow. It was a decent sum, enough to sustain him for a while, but he had hoped for more. "Fifty? Considering its cultivation and the risk involved, I was expecting at least seventy."
The merchant chuckled. "Always the haggler, aren't we? But I admire your spirit. Very well, sixty silver coins, but not a coin more."
Orion opened the pouch, counting the coins. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was a decent sum. With his immediate needs met, his thoughts turned to weaponry. His recent skirmish had underscored the importance of being armed, especially if he intended to hunt more cultivated beasts.
He wandered through the marketplace, scanning the stalls for swords. The variety was overwhelming, from intricately decorated blades meant more for show than combat, to rugged weapons scarred from many battles.
His eyes settled on a particular sword, its blade gleaming with a deadly promise. It was simple, with a no-nonsense design, but Orion could sense the balance and sharpness just by looking at it. Picking it up, he felt the weight distribution, the grip of the hilt. It was perfect.
“How much for this one?” he asked the merchant, already dreading the answer.
“Twenty gold coins,” the merchant replied, eyeing Orion’s interest. “It's a fine blade, forged with precision. Worth every coin.”
Orion’s heart sank. The deer’s sale had brought in some money, but not nearly enough for the sword. He placed it back on the stand reluctantly. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he murmured, more to himself than the merchant.
As he walked away, he couldn’t help but glance back at the sword. It was clear what his next goal was.