Gael didn't waste a second after hauling the three Myrmur carcasses into the surgical chamber with Maeve, Cara, and Fergal's help. The fake hounds were heavy and grotesque, the stuff of nightmares, but it didn't matter. Gael loved this part. There was something deeply satisfying about dissecting creatures that could barely be called beasts.

The stench of blood filled the room as he picked up two butcher knives from the surgical cart. No hesitation. His first cut split the thick chitin plates on the back of one hound-shaped cicada, making a clean line down the middle. His hands were quick. He flicked his wrist, reached into its inside, and the guts spilled out like slick and undulating ripples.

For their parts, Maeve and Cara helped methodically as they had many times before. Cara was in charge of collecting the more delicate parts: the funny-looking organs that could be sold, used in crafting, or used in medicine. She had an eye for picking out what was valuable. Maeve, on the other hand, also picked up her own butcher knife and started hacking away at the chitin plates, removing the inedible parts and making sure they wouldn't tear their mouths apart during feasting.

Evelyn, on the other hand, stood at the far back, clutching her arms around herself. Her eyes were wide like saucers as watched the dissection with a mix of horror and awe.

More horror than awe.

"You're tellin' me those nasties used to be inside me?" she muttered. "That… ew. How in the Saint's good name did they all fit inside me?"

Gael paused just long enough to glance over at her, grinning like a damn idiot. "I know, right?" he said, tone full of mock cheer. "Their biology really is something else, letting them compress themselves into tiny little bulbs the size of a melon. Hell, I'd love to capture one of them live, but we'll probably need a whole damn containment ward to keep it in check, so that's far off into the future."

Evelyn swallowed hard, looking sick as ever, but she didn't say anything more.

Gael ignored her and returned to his work. The Myrmurs' innards were always a sight to behold—high volume, low mass, and more pinkish-purple than any innard he'd ever seen in a Bharnish—but they'd all turn grey the moment he tossed them into a boiling pot, which was exactly what happened after he finished disemboweling all three Myrmurs and shoved the meat into the pot on the surgical cart.

The thick, red liquid swirled with steam as it cooked, the smell sharp and nauseating, but the reward would be worth it.

While he hunched over to reach for side ingredients under the surgical tray, he watched Cara and Maeve dump all the important-looking bits into storage bins around the chamber. Gael made a mental note of everything he saw being stashed away, but honestly, he already had a faint idea of what he wanted to make with their parts. He'd instructed Maeve to pay close attention to the cicadas' pipe-like throat plates as she hacked away, because even an idiot would know a cicada's greatest biological feature was its pipes.

He wasn't inclined to rush out a new bioarcanic equipment, though. Remaking his hungry flower glove, repairing his chitin-plated coat, and making about half a dozen backup night vision lenses over the past month was already tiring enough. He really should outsource the manual labor to someone else. A weapon nut like Maeve.

But, in the meantime, he started seasoning the pot of Myrmur meat.

He grabbed random herbs, a bit of salt, and dashes of whatever was under the surgical cart for the seasoning. There was no science to it all—just gut feeling and intuition—but then his brows raised as he spotted a suspicious looking bag of powder tucked away in the dark, shadowy corners of the cart pantry. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

Before he could secretly tip the bag of Brain Destroyer into the pot, though, Cara smacked him over the back of his head with a spatula, making him drop the bag and scatter its contents all over the tray. None of it got into the pot.

"Don't you dare," she snapped, her voice sharp as glass.

Gael chuckled, rubbing the back of his head as if it didn't sting. "What? Come on, just one time. The Exorcist has to try it. It's gonna melt her brain, and it's gonna be the funniest shit ever."

Cara looked like she was going to chop him up next, but before she could, Maeve poked at the white powder lining the edges of her tray with her finger, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"Is it really that bad?" she muttered, dipping her finger into the dust and inspecting it carefully. "If it's tasty… maybe I should give it a try?"

Gael hollered with laughter, but before he could respond with a resounding 'yes', Cara reached over and grabbed Maeve's finger, pulling it away from the substance with a look that said it all.

"Don't let him corrupt you, girl! You don't wanna try the Brain Destroyer!"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"It's that bad."

"I mean… it doesn't taste bad, but that's because it's designed to be addicting, and—what the fuck are you adding now?"

Cara swung her spatula backhanded again, but Gael dodged under it this time and laughed, gripping onto the edge of the surgical tray as he grinned up at her. "It's not the Brain Destroyer this time," he said, shaking a little bag of blue powder between his fingers. "Just a bit of flavoring. I swear on the Saint. The Exorcist will be just fineeeee getting a bit of it in her bloodstream."

Cara didn't look half-convinced, but she just sighed and turned away, waving it off.

Once the stew was ready—and it took a while, given there were three Myrmurs' worth of meat in it—Gael scooped up a bowl and handed it to Maeve, the first to sit around the bloody surgical table. The Exorcist glanced at the meat, poking at it with her fork before taking a bite. Gael got his own bowl as well and went to town on it. The flavor wasn't exactly gourmet, but it probably wouldn't taste half as edible without the powder he'd sprinkled in last minute.

For about a good half an hour, the two of them ate in silence while everyone else got back to whatever else they were doing around the chamber.

[// STATUS]

[Name: Maeve / Gael]

[Grade: C-Rank Wretch-Class]

[Standard Class: Wasp]

[Passive Mutation: Profane Eyes]

[Swarmblood Arts: Purging Blood / Blood Covenant]

[Aura: 259 BeS / 224 BeS]

[Points: 98 vBe / 95 vBe]

[Strength: 3 / 2, Speed: 3 / 2, Toughness: 3 / 3, Dexterity: 3 / 2, Perceptivity: 3 / 2]

[// MUTATION TREE]

[T1 Mutations | Scent Latch Lvl. 2 / Miasma Mantle Lvl. 2]

[T2 Mutations | Basic Claws / Basic Repository | Basic Chitin / Basic Chitin] 50P

[T2 Core Mutation: Basic Claws] 50P

[Brief Description: The Hunter will grow sharper nails, and the bone density in her hands and forearms will shift. Her grip strength will be twice that of her strength level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase her grip strength. At max level, her grip strength will be thrice that of her strength level]

[T2 Core Mutation: Basic Repository] 50P

[Brief Description: The Host will grow a hive-like comb on his back, allowing him to store small items inside his body. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase the number of combs. At max level, there will be ten hive-like combs on his back]

[T2 Core Mutation: Basic Chitin / Basic Chitin] 50P

[Brief Description: The Hunter / Host will grow thin chitin plates over patches of their skin that are ten percent as tough as their toughness level. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase the toughness of these plates. At max level, the chitin plates will be as tough as their toughness level]

… Gael looked off to the side and stared at his interfaces. Ninety-five points. He didn't remember how many points Maeve had before today, but it seemed like they ate just about the same amount of meat this time, because their total points were surprisingly similar.

"Three Myrmur carcasses really are a lotta points at once, huh?" he said idly. "We both got enough for a tier two mutation, and that's about it. You gonna get something new or just put them all into your attribute levels?"

Maeve sat beside him, her expression steady, her brows furrowed as she stared at her options. She certainly wasn't taking her decision lightly, so that was why, when she spoke, her voice was as clear and precise as he'd always known her to be.

"I'll take 'Basic Claws.'" She didn't turn to look at him, but he could hear her finger joints cracking as she immediately selected her option. "The recoil from Mistrender is getting a bit too strong for me. If I had more grip strength, it wouldn't have been so tough for me to maintain the swirling blood dome last fight, so… 'Basic Claws' it is. I'll put the rest of the points across my mutations and attribute levels."

Gael let out a low chuckle before turning back to his own interfaces.

He needed something practical as well. Something that would make life easier, or at least, not harder. He knew he'd said he was going to unlock 'Basic Repository' first chance he got—the ability to just stash extra shit inside his body was a powerful one—but after that last fight where his chitin-plated coat had saved his ass multiple times, he wasn't about to skimp out on defence now.

Especially considering where they were headed next.

"I'll go with 'Basic Chitin', then. And I'll toss the rest of my points into levelling it. The rest can go everywhere else."

[T2 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Chitin Lvl: 3]

[Strength: 2 → 3]

[Speed: 2 → 3]

[Perceptivity: 2 → 3]

[Points: 95 vBe → 3 vBe]

He felt the change almost immediately after he confirmed his selection. It was a shiver that ran through his entire body—a crawling sensation—as the hard, black chitin plates started forming across patches of his skin, like armor growing over him. He was wearing clothes over most of them, but he could feel strips of them lining his forearms, his calves, his thighs, parts of his back, parts of his torso, and even the side of his neck to both cheeks, stopping right before they could extend to his nose.

The skin beneath itched as the plates thickened, but it was the good kind of discomfort. It was the kind that made him feel a slight bit safer.

"... Hey. Look at me now." Gael grinned at Cara, who was watching him curiously. "I'm better defended against your book throws now for sure—"

A thin notebook bounced off his unprotected forehead and made his head whip back. Cara laughed from across the room, her voice light.

"Nope. Still works."

Grumbling under his breath, he rose to his feet and shot Maeve another look. It seemed like she'd increased her strength alongside unlocking her 'Basic Claws', so they were now one step closer to unlocking all their tier threes.

He had half a mind to just rush through the rest of the mutations up until the point where they could get an Advanced Class, but to do that, they needed more points.

"Alright, then." He clapped his hands together. "We'll head out tomorrow morning. Pack your bags and get ready. We're going to the Fogspire Forest."

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