The mass tearing at Wolf’s guts pierced the stomach wall, then split into thousands of surging streams, each shooting towards a tendon. Rivulets of molten metal latched onto sinew, invading it.
In two breaths, Wolf's tendons transformed into steel-like fibers, their strength increasing dozens of times. Unfortunately, Wolf didn’t get to savor the strengthening of his body.
“Fucker.” He took out a healing potion and downed the vial to close the bleeding hole in his guts. “I can’t believe I thought it wouldn’t hurt just because it’s drinkable.”
Wolf took a deep breath and smiled. The pain of his stomach rupturing disappeared after a single potion. He closed his eyes, wanting to inspect his body when his mouth watered.
Why am I salivating so much? He wondered with a frown.
He licked his teeth and swallowed, then his stomach growled. I’m hungry?
A slice of jerky materialized in his shaky hand. He ripped it and began chewing, but this morsel wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
Wolf took out a pan and a magical heater, before he threw a steak four times the size of an adult’s palm onto the frying pan.
No, wait. This isn’t good. But it was too late. The meat stuck to the searing metal, and despite Wolf’s prompt action, a thin layer of meat remained on the pan, left to char. Dammit.
He poured oil on the hot cookware, getting showered by a greasy drizzle. Wolf threw the damn thing away and stuffed another slice of jerky into his mouth.
Half a minute later, Wolf industriously chewed on a dozen slices of dried meat while frying a steak in another pan.
I can’t wait that long. Wolf’s stomach growled so loud, he forgot how to think, how to cook. The sole urge gripping his mind was to stop the endless thundering of his belly.
He took a biscuit. But the moment he bit it, he spat it out. The jerky didn’t help; it had too little vitality. The biscuit was worse; it had nothing worth eating.
It’s a tad undercooked. Wolf looked at the bloody steak sizzling before him. He bit his lip, resisting the urge for ten more seconds before he caved in, grabbed the red meat and stuffed it into his mouth. He didn’t care that one end was raw, nor that the other end was scalding hot. A single word drowned Wolf’s thoughts. Food!
The young True-Namer finished his fierce battle with the steak in no time. Blood and grease dripped from his chin, leaving him embarrassed.
This never happened. Do you understand, Silver? The only response to Wolf’s thought was an especially loud and fake snore.
I need to prepare Demonic Beast meat to eat. The higher their Order the better. It would be best if this was an isolated incident, but knowing my luck… Wolf’s starvation had nothing to do with luck. He directly gained twenty kilos through the elixir. However, Star Body doubled his mass with every stage. He was a quarter of a ton short of the weight his new body required.
He needed to sate his ravenous hunger and devour crazily to catch up with the sudden discrepancy between what was and what should be.
A week flashed by. Wolf originally expected he would spend this time calmly refining a Monster Core. However, that was just him being typically overoptimistic.
During these seven days, Wolf stalked the strongest Demonic Beasts he found, converting them into steaks. He was like a voracious carnivore out for blood. Even though he ate over ten kilos of meat every day, hunger constantly gnawed at Wolf’s guts and sanity. But that wasn’t the worst part. What troubled Wolf the most was that food seemed to pass right through him.
Over the course of that one week, Wolf barely gained eight kilos. His body had become a single-minded manufactory, converting food into tissue with horrible amounts of loss. He consumed over one hundred kilos of Demonic Beast meat, pooped normally, yet only gained so little weight.
Damn! Wolf ripped a piece of a medium rare steak, then chewed it in a well-practiced manner of a devoted glutton. If I keep going like this, my body will need seven months to settle. Can I even continue harvesting Demonic Converter Monster Cores as I am right now? I could try? I’ve already made stock of Ninth and Tenth Order Demonic Beast meat.
Thinking of his stock, Wolf shuddered at the memory of his hunt. He had an outburst when killing a Gray-Scaled Bipedal Land-Drake, the first edible Demonic Beast he encountered. It was only at the peak of the Ninth Order, but when Wolf slashed its throat, the metallic scent intoxicated him, and he blacked out. When he came to, he was soaked in lizard blood, chewing a strip of raw meat, which he tore off his dying enemy with his bare teeth.
After that, Wolf went hunting only when he was full to bursting. It was a horrible sensation, jumping and bending with a bulging stomach; but he endured, hunted and prepared supplies. It was better than losing control and devouring his still living enemies.
But this transformation wasn’t all bad news. In a few short days, Wolf’s strength increased twofold. He could hack Ninth Order Demonic Beasts into delicious steaks without resorting to intelligence or Internal Energy. Whether anyone else would consider Wolf’s menu enjoyable was tough to say.
As he chewed his food, his thoughts drifted towards the next Demonic Converter.
I can destroy some corpse puppets and withdraw when I only have one Scapegoat remaining. No. Make that two Scapegoats. It shouldn’t differ from hunting. That way, I ought to clear out that damn tree’s defense forces in two to three attempts. Better than wasting time here.
Two weeks later, Wolf’s guess proved correct. With a conservative tactic, he needed only two tries to destroy the Demonic Converter’s nine guardians. The addition of Honed Blade, and the doubling of his physical prowess, made dispatching corpse puppets no different from chopping wood.
I need a longer sword! Wolf smirked, considering his lessons from these simple bouts. My slashes are too shallow. That black hound’s huge hunk of metal would fit perfectly.
Wolf gnawed his well-done steak even though his tummy ached. Being full was the last step before attacking the Demonic Converter. Hopefully, I’ll take it down. If Book’s blade was a meter-twenty long, I could knock down a Demonic Converter in twenty strikes.
Despite his dissatisfaction, downing it in fifty blows was an incredible improvement. The problem was, Wolf had to dance around the tree and carefully plan his hits. Otherwise, he’d need ten to twenty extra strikes.
Wolf wrapped up his food while simulating the fight with the Demonic Converter in his mind. He grew a habit of making such plans before fighting these bizarre Demonic Beasts. Then he simply stuck to the plan. If anything unforeseen happened, he retreated. It was the safest way to fight an immobile enemy who could influence your thoughts.
Master, how about you use Sunder the Mountains? You’ll chop down that tree in a single strike. Silver suggested. This thought passed through Wolf’s mind dozens of times, but he always dismissed it because the maneuver consumed too much Internal Energy.
Sunder the Mountains uses hundred and fifty regular slashes worth of Internal Energy. I can cut the trunk thrice with such an investment, and it’s uncertain whether a single Sunder the Mountains will knock it down. Wolf repeated the argument against using the strike.
He hated World Energy’s scarcity even this close to Beast-lands, even though it was twice denser than in Silver City. If it saturated the air, he could use Internal Energy freely.
That’s not true, Master. Soul Force is abundant, yet you skimp on it. You prepare as few spells as possible; you reuse the unused ones; you don’t cast them unless it’s a life or death matter, or unless you’re angry—
Alright, Silver! Let me daydream a bit. Besides, Internal Energy is not like Soul Force.
What do you mean, Master? Don’t you improve your Sword-Sage Order by storing enough Internal Energy and slowly expanding your capacity? You do that by not using it. Right?
Wolf inhaled deeply.
“You’re right, Silver,” he muttered. “But I occasionally wish to indulge in fantasies. I needn’t always act like a rational puppet.”
You could tell by the shell’s expression that Silver itched to say that Wolf often acted irrationally, but she held her peace. I just think you should try it, because you want to. Ignore the cost or the consequence and do what you want to do, be what you want to be.
Wolf smiled. Silver’s words sounded sweet and naive and benevolent, but… But what? She’s right. I should indulge my curiosity. I’ll do it once, bring down the tree and then flee. What’s the worst that could happen?
The mass tearing at Wolf’s guts pierced the stomach wall, then split into thousands of surging streams, each shooting towards a tendon. Rivulets of molten metal latched onto sinew, invading it.
In two breaths, Wolf's tendons transformed into steel-like fibers, their strength increasing dozens of times. Unfortunately, Wolf didn’t get to savor the strengthening of his body.
“Fucker.” He took out a healing potion and downed the vial to close the bleeding hole in his guts. “I can’t believe I thought it wouldn’t hurt just because it’s drinkable.”
Wolf took a deep breath and smiled. The pain of his stomach rupturing disappeared after a single potion. He closed his eyes, wanting to inspect his body when his mouth watered.
Why am I salivating so much? He wondered with a frown.
He licked his teeth and swallowed, then his stomach growled. I’m hungry?
A slice of jerky materialized in his shaky hand. He ripped it and began chewing, but this morsel wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
Wolf took out a pan and a magical heater, before he threw a steak four times the size of an adult’s palm onto the frying pan.
No, wait. This isn’t good. But it was too late. The meat stuck to the searing metal, and despite Wolf’s prompt action, a thin layer of meat remained on the pan, left to char. Dammit.
He poured oil on the hot cookware, getting showered by a greasy drizzle. Wolf threw the damn thing away and stuffed another slice of jerky into his mouth.
Half a minute later, Wolf industriously chewed on a dozen slices of dried meat while frying a steak in another pan.
I can’t wait that long. Wolf’s stomach growled so loud, he forgot how to think, how to cook. The sole urge gripping his mind was to stop the endless thundering of his belly.
He took a biscuit. But the moment he bit it, he spat it out. The jerky didn’t help; it had too little vitality. The biscuit was worse; it had nothing worth eating.
It’s a tad undercooked. Wolf looked at the bloody steak sizzling before him. He bit his lip, resisting the urge for ten more seconds before he caved in, grabbed the red meat and stuffed it into his mouth. He didn’t care that one end was raw, nor that the other end was scalding hot. A single word drowned Wolf’s thoughts. Food!
The young True-Namer finished his fierce battle with the steak in no time. Blood and grease dripped from his chin, leaving him embarrassed.
This never happened. Do you understand, Silver? The only response to Wolf’s thought was an especially loud and fake snore.
I need to prepare Demonic Beast meat to eat. The higher their Order the better. It would be best if this was an isolated incident, but knowing my luck… Wolf’s starvation had nothing to do with luck. He directly gained twenty kilos through the elixir. However, Star Body doubled his mass with every stage. He was a quarter of a ton short of the weight his new body required.
He needed to sate his ravenous hunger and devour crazily to catch up with the sudden discrepancy between what was and what should be.
A week flashed by. Wolf originally expected he would spend this time calmly refining a Monster Core. However, that was just him being typically overoptimistic.
During these seven days, Wolf stalked the strongest Demonic Beasts he found, converting them into steaks. He was like a voracious carnivore out for blood. Even though he ate over ten kilos of meat every day, hunger constantly gnawed at Wolf’s guts and sanity. But that wasn’t the worst part. What troubled Wolf the most was that food seemed to pass right through him.
Over the course of that one week, Wolf barely gained eight kilos. His body had become a single-minded manufactory, converting food into tissue with horrible amounts of loss. He consumed over one hundred kilos of Demonic Beast meat, pooped normally, yet only gained so little weight.
Damn! Wolf ripped a piece of a medium rare steak, then chewed it in a well-practiced manner of a devoted glutton. If I keep going like this, my body will need seven months to settle. Can I even continue harvesting Demonic Converter Monster Cores as I am right now? I could try? I’ve already made stock of Ninth and Tenth Order Demonic Beast meat.
Thinking of his stock, Wolf shuddered at the memory of his hunt. He had an outburst when killing a Gray-Scaled Bipedal Land-Drake, the first edible Demonic Beast he encountered. It was only at the peak of the Ninth Order, but when Wolf slashed its throat, the metallic scent intoxicated him, and he blacked out. When he came to, he was soaked in lizard blood, chewing a strip of raw meat, which he tore off his dying enemy with his bare teeth.
After that, Wolf went hunting only when he was full to bursting. It was a horrible sensation, jumping and bending with a bulging stomach; but he endured, hunted and prepared supplies. It was better than losing control and devouring his still living enemies.
But this transformation wasn’t all bad news. In a few short days, Wolf’s strength increased twofold. He could hack Ninth Order Demonic Beasts into delicious steaks without resorting to intelligence or Internal Energy. Whether anyone else would consider Wolf’s menu enjoyable was tough to say.
As he chewed his food, his thoughts drifted towards the next Demonic Converter.
I can destroy some corpse puppets and withdraw when I only have one Scapegoat remaining. No. Make that two Scapegoats. It shouldn’t differ from hunting. That way, I ought to clear out that damn tree’s defense forces in two to three attempts. Better than wasting time here.
Two weeks later, Wolf’s guess proved correct. With a conservative tactic, he needed only two tries to destroy the Demonic Converter’s nine guardians. The addition of Honed Blade, and the doubling of his physical prowess, made dispatching corpse puppets no different from chopping wood.
I need a longer sword! Wolf smirked, considering his lessons from these simple bouts. My slashes are too shallow. That black hound’s huge hunk of metal would fit perfectly.
Wolf gnawed his well-done steak even though his tummy ached. Being full was the last step before attacking the Demonic Converter. Hopefully, I’ll take it down. If Book’s blade was a meter-twenty long, I could knock down a Demonic Converter in twenty strikes.
Despite his dissatisfaction, downing it in fifty blows was an incredible improvement. The problem was, Wolf had to dance around the tree and carefully plan his hits. Otherwise, he’d need ten to twenty extra strikes.
Wolf wrapped up his food while simulating the fight with the Demonic Converter in his mind. He grew a habit of making such plans before fighting these bizarre Demonic Beasts. Then he simply stuck to the plan. If anything unforeseen happened, he retreated. It was the safest way to fight an immobile enemy who could influence your thoughts.
Master, how about you use Sunder the Mountains? You’ll chop down that tree in a single strike. Silver suggested. This thought passed through Wolf’s mind dozens of times, but he always dismissed it because the maneuver consumed too much Internal Energy.
Sunder the Mountains uses hundred and fifty regular slashes worth of Internal Energy. I can cut the trunk thrice with such an investment, and it’s uncertain whether a single Sunder the Mountains will knock it down. Wolf repeated the argument against using the strike.
He hated World Energy’s scarcity even this close to Beast-lands, even though it was twice denser than in Silver City. If it saturated the air, he could use Internal Energy freely.
That’s not true, Master. Soul Force is abundant, yet you skimp on it. You prepare as few spells as possible; you reuse the unused ones; you don’t cast them unless it’s a life or death matter, or unless you’re angry—
Alright, Silver! Let me daydream a bit. Besides, Internal Energy is not like Soul Force.
What do you mean, Master? Don’t you improve your Sword-Sage Order by storing enough Internal Energy and slowly expanding your capacity? You do that by not using it. Right?
Wolf inhaled deeply.
“You’re right, Silver,” he muttered. “But I occasionally wish to indulge in fantasies. I needn’t always act like a rational puppet.”
You could tell by the shell’s expression that Silver itched to say that Wolf often acted irrationally, but she held her peace. I just think you should try it, because you want to. Ignore the cost or the consequence and do what you want to do, be what you want to be.
Wolf smiled. Silver’s words sounded sweet and naive and benevolent, but… But what? She’s right. I should indulge my curiosity. I’ll do it once, bring down the tree and then flee. What’s the worst that could happen?
