Cid bent over a chitterer carapace, placing his hands on either side of the shell and, as sweat dripped from his usually pale face, began to exert a steadily increasing pressure with his arms. Within a minute and a loudly expelled grunt of exertion Cid pulled the two halves of the beast apart, something he would not have been strong enough to do a month ago. Serra, whose left arm was still sore, took over as Cid placed the ridged carapace aside for the moment, her uninjured right arm harvesting the chitterer’s eye-stalks and eyes as well as the small pearlescent core nestled between the mouth opening which was ringed by two pairs of both sharp-edged and crushing maxillipeds.
Cid watched the dark-skinned woman move with grace and alacrity, traits that she had already possessed before, which now was growing to superhuman levels every time she added more of the System-generated points to her attributes. Cid watched her improved movements with scientific fascination, amazed at how the System managed to improve incredibly complex biological mechanisms and systems through an aetherically-driven numerical process without causing irreparable harm. And it did this same thing for a multitude of species and races with what Cid could only imagine were a myriad of differing physiologies, anatomies, and god only knew what else!
It should have been impossible, and yet, if Osar and the books he had been reading were to be believed, the System had been doing just that for more than a hundred thousand years!
When pressed, Osar had explained to Cid that a non-adept with an attribute point of one was considered average, while two was the limit for non-System users. But an adept with say a Corpus attribute of ten was considered a mere beginner on the System-path, despite having modified muscles capable of bending steel. How was the System facilitating these changes and improvements on a fundamental biological level? How could it bestow abilities? What was the System’s end-goal?
All these questions and more ran through the young scientist’s head, and though he himself had yet to come up with any answers, the general sense of apathy and lack of curiosity about such subjects within the books he had read was frustrating. It seemed as if the authors were satisfied with their understanding of how the System and the Universe worked and so had no motivation to try to learn anything more. To compound that frustration, the nature and capabilities of the System was just one of several other topics of investigation and scientific research that Cid wanted to investigate!
Alchemy for example, was fascinating! According to his readings, especially a small black tome entitled The Register of Matter, the purpose of alchemy was fairly simple: A true alchemist sets out to learn the innate properties of materials, conducting experiments that refine and combine these substances to produce new and potentially useful effects. Naturally, the presence of aether, as well as its infusion, combination, and transformation of material properties would affect the outcome of alchemical experiments and formulas. In fact, in one of Vashanka’s notebooks that Eric had given to Cid to read, the dragon outright stated that alchemy could not be taught and only learned, through the aspiring alchemists’ own efforts and experiments, since the aetheric component of the Gens is different in every single adept, except in very select and purposefully manipulated circumstances.
Cid had been dumbfounded, and it had taken him several hours of thinking on the matter to finally grasp what the dragon meant. When it finally clicked, the insight it gave him allowed Cid to actually advance in his alchemical studies, allowing him to use some of the alchemical formulas in the few references he had available as a baseline and extrapolate solutions from there, using his newfound understanding of his own aetheric capabilities and how it would affect what he was trying to create.
He had already claimed a smaller room as his workshop, and with Luna’s help had set up several experiments to test his theories. He would have still been there in his lab except that he recognized how valuable learning about beast anatomy and how ingredients were harvested from their bodies would be to his other studies of interest.
Beside him, Serra had finished cleaning out the organs and clusters of pale white meat, setting them down on the table provided for them. About five meters away Eric and Osar were working on one of the larger chitterer carcasses, this one shaped like a cross between a lobster and a scorpion rather than a crab.
Serra swept the empty carapace shells and plates of chitin from the specimen they had been working on into a spatial chest and began using the Butcher’s Cream to clean herself up, filling the air with the now familiar fresh, clean scent.
“You have got to figure out a way to make more of this stuff, Cid.” Serra urged as she rubbed her gloved hands together.
“Nothing much I can do without a recipe,” Cid answered with a tired smile. “Besides, Osar says that stuff is sold cheap at the trade stations.” He looked at his own ichor-smeared hands and leather apron. He thought about asking for some of the cream from Serra but quickly discarded the notion. Water would work just as well to clean him up anyway.
He and Serra walked over to their companions’ table, catching the tail end of their conversation.
“…is it worth all this trouble?” Eric said as he nodded to acknowledge Cid and Serra. Cid nodded back and watched as Eric placed a slimy piece of green something into another of the small glass containers that Osar seemed to have an endless supply of. Once he had sealed it, the group’s leader placed the filled container beside a large collection of others just like it atop another table before turning back to Osar.
“Ah, you have no idea, Jad-Os!” Osar replied, his dark eyes twinkling with excitement. He was about finished scraping off the abdominal groove that had held most of the chitterer’s guts and digestive organs, using a variable-pressure hose to clean up the interior and expose the rows of meat that flanked the groove. “All of the ingredients and materials we gather here will be worth at least a few Marks, and with the quality I’ve seen so far, most will earn us more than just a few, which we can then use to buy whatever you need.”
“Sure, I get that,” Eric said as he placed his gloved hands at the side of the open carcass. “Maybe I’d just like a little bit of assurance that I won’t be wasting materials and money for something that ultimately is just a hobby.”
“Ah,” Serra softly said after she heard Eric’s words. “The Captain’s second-thinking his decision to take Food Preparation as his profession modifier.”
“I see.” Cid whispered back, understanding immediately.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
All of the them, except Osar of course, had gained the ability to add a Profession modifier to their chosen Professions once their Gens reached Low-acolyte tier. The choices presented were all related to their chosen Professions, or in Eric’s case, since he wasn’t a Support Type, his chosen Profession, which had been Hunter. Apparently, Eric had taken Food Preparation as a modifier, which obviously wasn’t going to drastically improve his combat abilities.
“You are not looking at your choice objectively, Jad-Os.” Osar said as he sharpened his knives quickly.
“Then how should I look at it?” Eric said without any heat in his voice. Cid hid a smile, knowing enough about the Captain by now that he knew the man was just beating himself up for making what he saw as a self-indulgent decision.
“Food Preparation should eventually lead to you getting the Chef Profession choice, don’t you agree?”
“Probably.” Eric answered.
“And that would be a very good thing for all of us.”
“How so?”
Osar looked at the Primus with a look of mock-disgust as he finished sharpening his knives and turned back to the carcass.
“Food and drink are commodities that will always be in demand, yeah?” Eric nodded in agreement as the Urgan’s knives flashed, precisely cutting off uniform slabs of pale chitterer flesh that the Urgan then deftly arranged into neat piles beside him. “But good food and drink, prepared by Chef adepts?” The big man shook his head, a longing look on his broad face. “Blood feuds have been started over the services of truly gifted chefs.”
“People kill each other over food?” Serra chimed in; her hands folded across her chest.
“Not just over food, friend Serra,” Osar replied pleasantly, giving the scarred woman a broad wink. “They kill each other over well-prepared, ability-enhancing, delicious-tasting food!”
“And the Captain can learn to make this kind of food?”
“Very likely, but only if he applies himself.” Osar quipped with a laugh.
“Well then,” Serra said, smiling broadly. “I approve of this course of action, Captain.”
Cid laughed as Eric gave Serra a mock-salute and a slight bow.
Later that evening, all four of them were once again gathered in what they now called, quite unimaginatively, the Abattoir. Eric, after asking everyone to keep clear, touched his bracelet and produced the largest intact piece of what remained of the Void dragon Vashanka.
Despite knowing what was to come, everyone present let out a concerted gasp as the massive front half of the dragon appeared on the room’s floor. Seeing the remains for the first time, Cid and Osar stood still for a moment, their minds grappling with the sheer size of the dragon. Involuntarily, everyone bowed their heads to acknowledge the dead creature, and again Osar whispered his prayer for the dead.
Then Osar took a deep breath, and began his visual inspection of the carcass.
“Looks smaller in the light.” Eric murmured, remembering his awakening into pain and darkness beside the dying dragon. Despite the damage Serra’s explosives had done to its body, the remains of the dragon still exuded a sense of danger and ominous dread, its thick, viscous blood still gleaming wetly on its wounds, preserved by being placed inside its own spatial ring.
“I agree sir.” Pig murmured in reply.
Eric smiled, glad to hear his AI’s voice. The mental attacks that Eric had suffered against the Oroghast seemed to have done something to Pig, and Eric had noticed a distinct reduction in the number of times the AI had spoken since then. He had tried to discuss the traumatic experience with the AI, but since his well-meant overtures only seemed to make Pig retreat further, Eric had decided to give his AI space to adjust and recover at its own pace.
“Head’s intact,” Osar mumbled, straightening from his examination of the front part of the carcass, craning his head to look up to the dragon’s shoulder. “Horns and spines look very promising, and the scales should be very sought after.” The big Urgan placed a hand on one black claw, running his hands over the smooth, polished surface. “Claws are very well taken care off.” He wandered further from the group, poking and prodding, until he rounded the head and disappeared behind the rising bulk of the neck.
“Somehow, I don’t remember the thing being that big.” Cid said, his eyes wide as he gazed up at the shattered stumps of the wings.
“Having read his journals, I feel a bit of regret that we had to kill the guy.” Eric admitted, remembering the smart, inquisitive nature that the dragon had shown in his private writings.
“I don’t,” Serra said fiercely. “It would have killed us all without batting an eye, and it wouldn’t even have remembered us after.”
Eric nodded sadly in agreement, though he still felt a twinge of guilt and regret about the necessity of killing a magnificently sentient creature like Vashanka and would no doubt continue to do so until he died.
“Well?” Serra asked loudly as Osar appeared from the other side, having fully gone around the body.
“Looks like a good ton and a half of prime dragon meat here,” The Urgan answered. “As well as a large percentage of parts that we can salvage. We’ll have to be careful about who and where we sell the parts, as well as making sure none of it can be traced back to us.”
“Sounds doable.” Eric said, rubbing at his chin. “Anything in particular we need to be aware of?”
“I have to stress the dangers Jad-Os,” Osar said solemnly, looking each of his companions in the eye to emphasize the gravity of his warning. “Until we are named Dragons ourselves, if any Imperial sympathizer learns of our killing and butchering a dragon, we will all be hunted down and killed.”
“Then we better make sure no one learns about it.”
“Good.” Osar said seeing the understanding and resolve in his comrade’s eyes. “For a start I suggest we keep all the meat for private consumption or for a very carefully selected group of diners. That being said, I know a few ways to greatly profit from this very rare opportunity, and there is always a market for anything dragon related.”
“Demand always exceeds supply.” Cid whispered.
“Exactly, friend Cid.” Osar shot the man an approving look, before taking out his butchering gear and putting them on. Along with the now familiar ensemble and tools, Osar also revealed a large beautifully carved and lacquered chest, which when placed on a large table and opened, revealed several exotic looking blades and instruments, a twelve-piece set of identical bottles made of translucent green jade, and a large carefully cloth-wrapped glass jar filled with a clear liquid.
Curious, Eric activated his Dragon Sight and saw each of the objects inside the box were sheathed in layers of aether, with Life and Time aspects dominating.
Osar led all of them onto the back aspect of the half-carcass they had, showing the gigantic ribs and the blood-dripping thoracic cavity. Motioning for the rest of his companions to stay put, Osar bent down and ventured forward, seeking the dragon’s heart.
When he found the muscular organ, Osar carefully cut away the huge one-meter long heart from the remains of the chest cavity and brought it out. As the three Terrans gathered around him Osar laid the heart on the prepared table, taking care not to jostle the organ too much.
Making three careful incisions, the Urgan separated a flap of the tough heart muscle to expose the inside of the huge organ. Selecting a faintly-glowing scooping device with a long handle, Osar gently extracted five brightly glowing dark-red drops which he dropped into individual jade bottles. Carefully, he sealed the bottles with intricately carved jade stoppers before settling back on his heels, smiling in satisfaction.
“Over a period of years, blood in the heart of Beasts congeals into drops of heart’s blood, which, depending on the Beast it comes from, is a very valuable magical treasure.” Osar explained as he returned to sectioning the dragon’s heart. He gestured to the array of bottles on the table. “Those five bottles alone are worth more than six million Imperial Marks.”
Cid gave a long whistle.
Eric looked over the carcass, amazed by the mountain of money it represented, and once more thanked his absent gods for his and his companion’s survival.
Once Osar finished with the delicate job of processing the heart, he then turned to his companions and several dozens of Luna’s drones, directing this small army in the systematic breakdown of Vashanka’s remains.