CHAPTER 75: CORE AND MEAT

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A concentrated stream of fire, thin and mixed with orange red, hot fire burst from his jaws. Not wild. Not a blast. A surgical blaze. It had carved through the wolf’s neck like a branding knife through cloth. Sinew snapped. Steam exploded from inside the corpse. The body twitched once, twice and went still.

Ash curled into the air.

Zephyr shielded his eyes from the blast. When he looked again, only blackened fur and steaming bones remained. The embers danced, then died.

Star stepped back. His chest rose and fell with slow control. He didn’t look proud. He looked vigilant. The threat had ended not in anger but with duty.

Zephyr let out a low breath and nodded once. "Well done, partner."

Star snorted, a puff of smoke curling from his nose like punctuation. He turned, walking calmly to the rope. The hunt was over.

Above, Fenna lowered her trembling hand from her mouth. Her eyes, glassy from adrenaline, flicked down to Zephyr.

She mouthed, "You okay?"

Zephyr raised his thumb, forcing his pulse to settle. She nodded, and in the waning light, her eyes—still streaked with ember—gleamed with quiet relief.

And in her sling, Emberling chirped softly, a sound of both sadness and gratitude.

Justice had been served. Silence returned, heavy and sudden.

Zephyr’s breaths came in hard bursts, heart thundering against his ribs. His arms trembled—not from fear, but the rush of adrenaline tapering off.

A thud drew his eyes upward.

The first wolf Star had killed, the one he’d swatted mid-air at the cliff’s edge, tumbled down the slope at last. It slid over obsidian ridges in a slow, jagged descent before landing in a heap near the base of the ravine with a final crunch of bone and glass. One limb was twisted at an unnatural angle. Steam still curled from a deep gash running across its flank where Star’s tail had connected.

Zephyr exhaled. "Perfect."

He approached the corpses methodically, slipping a glove on his right hand. His hatchet stayed sheathed now—there was no threat left here, only opportunity.

"Two kills," he muttered, crouching beside the body.

He pulled a hooked knife from his belt pouch and poke the bones and ashes. With steady fingers, he reached into the small hollow chamber nestled behind the skull, where rank-E beast core was.

Warm. Pliable. Still intact.

He plucked it out and tucked it into a leather satchel lined with emberfoil to preserve volatile essence.

The core came free easily, glistening faintly in the light. It pulsed with a dull orange glow.

He made his way to the second wolf—the first to fall, its body collapsed awkwardly in a sprawl of rocks and ash. Its midsection was cracked open, ribs jutting like charred fingers. Star’s initial attack had crushed its spine outright. Still, the head remained largely intact, and that’s where the core would be.

Zephyr carved quickly, slicing into the dense muscle near the jaw. A few tugs later, he retrieved the rank-E core, this one slightly darker than the other one, likely from blood exposure.

He wiped the knife, tucked it away, then paused, looking at the wolf again.

"Meat," he muttered.

Ember wolf meat wasn’t exactly gourmet, but smoked over wood and glazed with moss paste, it could pass for something decent. Plus, Star likes meat.

Zephyr worked fast, slicing a clean chunk from the hind leg—thick muscle, unmarred by internal blistering. He wrapped it in cooling moss from his pouch, then bound the parcel in a scrap of char-cloth.

All told: two E-rank beast cores, one edible meat cut, no major wounds, and one morale boost for Emberling.

Not a bad trade.

He glanced up at the rope, still dangling down the side of the ravine like a silver thread.

From the top, Fenna peered over the edge. She looked windblown, her braid loose and tangled from the climb, but her posture was sharp, alert. One hand rested on Emberling’s back, who peeked just over the sling with wide, ember-flecked eyes.

"I’m coming up," Zephyr called. "Got a few gifts."

"About time," Fenna replied, though her voice lacked the usual bite. "You’re not going to skin it, are you?"

"Just the one. Star gets a victory cut."

The drake, now pacing along the ravine’s lip, flicked his tail in acknowledgment and gave a grunt—almost smug.

Zephyr tied the satchel and meat parcel to his belt and wiped his palms on his trousers. Gripping the rope, he began the climb.

Muscles ached with each pull, but the rock felt familiar now. Trusted. Even the glass shimmer lost its threat in the face of what they’d just endured. He can ask Star to fly him up but, It was training for physical strength.

Halfway up, he paused briefly, resting his boot against a crag.

Above, Fenna waited. Not just waiting but watching. Not with worry anymore, but with readiness. As if knowing whatever came next, they’d meet it together.

He climbed the last few feet and stepped up onto the ridge beside her.

"Here," he said, pulling the cores from the satchel. "Proof we’re not just wandering. We’re progressing."

Fenna took one, turning it in her palm. The soft glow from the core reflected in her eyes like starlight.

"We’ll need more," she said. "But this is a start."

Behind her, Emberling chirped softly and leaned against her shoulder, watching Zephyr with something close to pride.

He nodded once. The forest was testing them. And they were passing. The wind at the ridge was cooler, edged with the sharp tang of mineral and ash. A draft swept across the volcanic slope, stirring the sweat from their faces.

Zephyr leaned against a warped rock, wiping soot from his brow, hatchet in hand. Each movement was slow, controlled, not from exhaustion but from the discipline of readiness. He was still listening to every sound around them. Still watching.

He drew a strip of cloth from his belt pouch, ran it over the blade’s curve. The edge gleamed faintly in the sun, specked with the wolf’s dark blood.