The first step is figuring out how to even skin the corpse of the eldritch beast.

Because of the unique makeup of its body, namely how it’s all an amalgam of normal biology, there isn’t a clean layer of skin to peel off. Sure, there are a couple of bigger patches interspersed throughout the body, mostly on the inside, but that’s about it. Oh well, we’ll have to make do with that.

So, I set about the gruesome task of dissecting the body.

In the meantime, Croce uses her speed to retrieve some birch bark from my camp. The outer layer has a sort of papery quality which could be used as the pages of the book. Also, can I just point out, once again, how ridiculously fast she is. Not the assassin-guard levels of fast, but still.

Maybe I should consider pushing my own silent steps in that direction.

Anyway, thanks to a combination of the proper metal knife from the city and my improvised implements skill, I manage to recover a couple of decently sized pieces of eldritch tentacle hide.

The next step in my, very improvised, plan is simple. Gather as much of the decomposing mucus as I can. And since we’re in the middle of the forest, I don’t have to walk far to get it.

Now then, let me see. Leather for the cover and binding, bark for the pages. Do I need anything else? Actually, maybe some glue to hold it all together wouldn’t be all that bad. Sure, in the end the magic is going to seamlessly fuse it all together, but it definitely won’t hurt. And it gives me an opportunity to incorporate more of the monster into this DIY project.

Kneeling back down next to the gruesome carcass, I set about removing all the bone pieces I can find within. By the time I’m done, the remains look even more horrifying than before and cover at least twice as much ground as before.

I think I once read somewhere that bones used to be an ingredient for a kind of glue. Don’t really remember much more than that, but I figured that mixing it with the slime would be good enough. The magic will cover the rest.

Now I just have to wait for Croce to return with the bark paper. And I don’t have to wait long.

With all of the ingredients gathered, we set about crafting them all into one piece. Or rather, I set about to do it. And although Croce grumbles a bit at that, I think the surprise will be worth it.

Sadly, none of the materials are exactly the same shape, so the end product will end up rather crooked.

I start with gluing a bunch of the pages together. I do this by applying my, hopefully but probably not, glue to one edge and sticking them together. And, just in case, I also channel a very weak spell into the glue, with the effect of making it glue.

I do the same with the patches of hide, gluing them into a rough rectangle like shape. Of course, I leave two folds near the middle.

That is where I subsequently glue the bundle of paper. And now, onto the interesting part.

Mixing the remaining fleshy bits of eldritch corpse with mucus, I cast another weak spell to speed up the decomposition. Then, I grab my knife and, with the dull part of the tip, use the resulting mixture to write down the contents of the book.

I start simply, with something that could be considered a foreword. It’s only a short introduction to what this book is supposed to be and a brief overview of how it was made. The twist is, I’m writing in my own made-up language. I really should come up with a name for it.

Anyway, after that, I write the real stuff. Something that should be a pleasant surprise for Croce.

Once I’m done with it all, I flip back to the beginning and write a short dedication. To Croce, of course.

And now, it’s time for the ritual. But I don’t actually want this to become something magical like my house or for the eldritch effect to be too powerful. At least, not yet. I’m reserving both of those for my own version.

Because if this, I only prepare a fairly simple ritual circle. I place the book into the middle of it and start casting. Neither the chant, nor the dance I prepared are complex, just like the ritual.

The spell I’m aiming for isn’t anything powerful after all. No, instead I’m aiming for multiple purposes. One, to make the cobbled together parts into one whole. Second, to make sure it retains the eldritch aura.

Once the spell starts, it doesn’t last that long, which speaks about the relative simpleness of it. What matters though, are the results.

And there, in the middle of the ritual, is a book. It no longer resembles the improvised thing it was before, even if it’s still a far cry from a proper book. Still, on a casual glance it’d probably pass.

I pick it up. It’s heavier than I expected. Not by much, but still heavier than before.

Croce is just a dozen meters away, watching me silently. I walk over to her and hand her the tome.

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“I gift this to you.”

She grabs it, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do not misunderstand. I give this to you, not the city or whoever you serve. We can make more for them, but this one is special.”

Croce stays silent and begins reading the book. Immediately on the first page, her eyes widen just he tiniest bit. Yeah, that’s right. It’s not written in a language I taught you from Earth.

The book isn’t written in the absurdly small letters as the ones in the library are, so she makes quick work of the foreword. And then gets into the good stuff.

“Is, is this what I think it is?” she asks. I’ve never seen her stammer like that.

“Yup. I don’t know much about the subject, almost nothing in fact, but what little I do know, I wrote down.” I reply proudly.

What I put in the book is, naturally, my knowledge on magic. My journey in discovering how to wield it, though without the personal things, such as the specifics of my spell.

Not even a minute later, Croce is already halfway through. Admittedly, it is very short, I do not know that much on the subject after all.

Anyway, that’s not interesting. What is interesting is the short, pained sound Croce makes, before quickly closing the book.

“Ah, it looks like the effect get stronger the further you read into the book,” Croce says after a moment when she sees my questioning look. “But that’s good. Means we won’t have to make that many of them with incremental increases in power.”

“Oh, yeah. Speaking of that. How many more do you think we’ll need?”

“Well, if I take into account the incremental boost one book has in it, I’d say about a thousand.”

“…”

“…”

“A thousand!” I almost shriek. No, I most certainly do shriek.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. At most, it’ll take a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, weeks that we don’t have! Isn’t this supposed to be just a week long expedition? What will they do if we don’t return? They’ll probably think I murdered you and escaped.”

“Calm down, don’t panic.” After a moment, she continues, “I mean no disrespect when I say this, but there’s no way you’d be able to kill me and they know it. It’s one of the reasons we are even able to be here alone.”

Okay, I’m going to be honest, that hurt a bit. Though I don’t know what I expected. I had multiple great presentation where she showcased her speed. That should have clued me in.

“And besides,” she continues, “I can just quickly head back and extend our stay. All I need to do is say that we made some progress, but that we have to stay out of the city as it’s too dangerous to continue inside. Which is sort of true anyway.”

Right, yeah that makes sense. It’s probably also the excuse she gave in the first place.

“Alright, I’m calm. So, what now?”

“Now, we’re going to continue as we were.”

Which is what we do. At the end of the week, when we were supposed to return, Croce runs back to inform whoever needs to be informed about the extension of our trip. And the very next day she’s back and we continue with producing what I’ve dubbed as Cursed books.

They aren’t really cursed, probably, but I got bored and it sort of stuck since then.

Of course, I let Croce do the actual writing for the rest of them. Not only do I not have the patience or willingness to do it, but I also lack the huge database of knowledge Croce has. From what I know, she’s picking the most useful bits and pieces and writing those down.

She still has to get far away for the actual summoning of the monsters, but after only a week she was able to stay and observe the still living tentacle.

Which prompted a small detour in our productions. She apparently simply had to study the still alive specimen. So, I was stuck as a glorified jailor for a couple of days.

All that aside, it took as four whole weeks to finish all one thousand books. The last few were the biggest pain, as they were supposed to have the strongest aura and as such needed more complex and longer rituals.

I did manage to convince Croce to only make 999 books. Hers not included. Think of that one as a sort of book zero. Why? Another amplifier for my own book, which will be a grimoire. There should be something about being the 1000th version to improve the eventual ritual.

But before that, it was time to deliver all of this to the city.

Now, I could simply float it all inside, but even closed the books radiated a weak eldritch field. So, as one last thing on our trip, we constructed a big wooden box to contain them.

As we approached the entrance to the (currently not) floating island, a small group of people came up to meet us.

Croce seems to have expected this though and quickly takes charge of the situation.

“You there. Take as many of your team as you need and carry this box for us. Do not, and this is very important, do not open it even the slightest crack. Understood?”

All of them quickly salute her and say some version of yes ma’am. Yes, I’m proficient enough in Aztifikian to understand at least that much. In fact, I think I’d be able to converse with Croce even without her translation skill.

As we’re ascending the long winding stairs of the tunnel, I can’t help but ponder what will happen next.

Is this going to be enough for them to let me go? It’s difficult to say, but at least I have Croce on my side if they’re undecided. Or rather, if Orok’Kove is undecided.

Then there’s the matter of the magic knowledge I asked for. I’ve mostly given up on that one over the past month. It’s clear that whatever culture the mages here have, it isn’t one of sharing.

Soon enough, we’re standing in front of the giant doors to the throne room. The difference is, this time they actually open. The whole construction that has to weigh at least a couple tons moves until the entry is free to pass through.

Another thing different from last time is that I’m not alone. Neither Croce, nor the team of people carrying our cursed books vanish from my sides as I advance on the throne.

And then, we’re there.

The stone giant, looming over everyone on its enormous stone throne is just as imposing as last time. And similarly, to last time, there’s absolutely no life in it. It once again looks a simple, if magnificent, statue.

I’m not willing to waste time though. I can practically taste the freedom. Sure, it was kind of nice to meet people and I wasn’t really prisoner, or slave, but the feeling was there, persistent in the background.

As such, I unashamedly proclaim in a loud voice, “Orok’Kove! As promised, I, Ra’mon, have delivered.”

My voice echoes through the majestic hall. But not for long.

The same pressure descends on the room. The same kind that appeared every time the rift to the Void appeared. But I’m beginning to recognize that it isn’t actually related to the eldritch and their Void. No, rather it’s something only truly powerful creature possess.

Everyone in the room falls to a knee under it. Everyone except me. I’ve long since grown accustomed to a much stronger pressure. For a whole month I’ve exposed myself to the presence of a true eldritch horror, and the stone giant pales in comparison.

I still feel it. My body is heavy and sluggish under its influence, but I can deal with that.

I take a step forward and meet the eyes of the giant. They’re glowing once again.