Chapter 236 Harvesting Beast Cores

The ripples caused by Alaric’s strike force in the Kraken’s Maw Estuary didn’t go unnoticed in the deeper, more turbulent waters of the ongoing conflict. While the Abyssal Lord Krýllos focused his immense power on shattering the main defenses of the Suntouched Confederacy further south, the systematic extermination of hundreds of sea monsters, including several potent Sixth Order specimens, in a supposedly pacified zone, sent waves of fury through the command structure of the invading abyssal army.

Deep within a temporary underwater command post – a cavern hastily hollowed out by pressure magic beneath a captured coastal fort – several colossal figures gathered. These were the true Lords of the invading sea monster host, Seventh Order beings of immense power, second only to Krýllos himself. Unlike the humanoid Krýllos, these beings retained far more of their monstrous forms, ancient predators adapted to the crushing pressures and lightless depths.

One, Lord Volnaxx, resembled a nightmarish fusion of a colossal anglerfish and a heavily armored crustacean. His skin was thick, segmented plating, his eyes multiple bioluminescent orbs pulsing with cold light, and his vast maw opened vertically, lined with rows upon rows of razor-sharp, translucent teeth. A fleshy, glowing lure dangled before his face, hypnotic and deadly. He radiated an aura of immense pressure and chilling darkness.

Another, Baroness Keth’ys, was a swirling vortex of tentacles and shimmering, oil-slick scales. Her form constantly shifted, dozens of barbed appendages tipped with paralyzing stingers undulating around a central, unseen core where multiple cold, intelligent eyes resided. She commanded legions of Kraken-kin and venomous deep-sea serpents.

“Unacceptable!” Volnaxx boomed, his voice a deep-sea pressure wave that vibrated through the waterlogged cavern, causing lesser Merrow guards to flinch. Spectral images flickered above a pool of murky water, showing the aftermath of the battle at the Kraken’s Maw – the scattered corpses, the lack of survivors from the dispatched force. “An entire contingent! Including my Deep Lurker shock troops! Eradicated! By surface scum!”

“The reports indicate a small group,” Keth’ys added, her voice a sibilant whisper that seemed to echo from multiple points at once. “Humanoid. Mages and warriors. Exhibiting unusual power signatures. Fire, wind, earth, ice… and something… else.” Her tentacles twitched, sensing the faint residue of Ceanna’s holy energy and Alaric’s unique arcane signature even from the fragmented reports.

“They left none of our kin alive,” growled a third entity, a massive, rock-like being resembling a giant, barnacle-encrusted deep-sea crab – Lord Grok’nar. “They didn’t just defend; they hunted. They took the cores.”

The implication hung heavy in the pressurized water. Humans, mere surface dwellers, actively hunting them? In their newly claimed territory? It was an insult of the highest order.

“While we bleed fighting these sun-worshipping Confederacy legions,” Volnaxx slammed a massive pincer against the cavern wall, cracking the rock, “these parasites pick off our rear guard? They slaughter the forces we left to cleanse the remaining vermin?”

“Lord Krýllos focuses on breaking their southern Sun Temples,” Keth’ys hissed. “He deems these northern estuaries… pacified. A task for lesser broods.”

“Lesser broods that are being systematically exterminated!” Volnaxx retorted, his lure pulsing angrily. “This cannot stand! It mocks our power! It spits on the pact!”

He turned his multiple glowing eyes towards the others. “I will handle this personally.”

Grok’nar shifted his rocky bulk. “Your focus is needed here, Volnaxx. The Confederacy line at Sundown Ridge is proving stubborn.”

“Let the Ridge hold!” Volnaxx snapped. “My Deep Lurkers were bred for terror and shock! Their loss weakens my immediate strike force more than a temporary stalemate at some insignificant ridge! These surface hunters must be crushed! Their audacity extinguished!”

He swelled slightly, the pressure aura around him intensifying. “I will take my personal guard – my Abyssal Reavers, my Pressure Hulks. We will sweep through that estuary and the surrounding coast. We will find these hunters. We will crush them into paste. We will boil the rivers with their blood and freeze the sands with their screams!”

Keth’ys remained silent for a moment, her tentacles swirling thoughtfully. “Krýllos may not approve of diverting primary command assets.”

“Krýllos wants vengeance on the humans,” Volnaxx countered forcefully. “Allowing humans to hunt us with impunity undermines that vengeance! It makes us look weak! I will handle this swiftly, decisively. A show of force. Then I will return to the main front, my honor satisfied, the surface scum purged.”

Seeing Volnaxx’s fury and determination, and perhaps agreeing that the insult couldn’t be ignored, the other Lords didn’t press further. They were winning the larger war; allowing Volnaxx to deal with this irritating pocket of resistance was acceptable, even if pride seemed his primary motivator. Lord Krýllos, focused on his own grand battles, likely wouldn’t even notice the temporary absence of one of his subordinates.

“Very well, Volnaxx,” Keth’ys finally conceded. “Cleanse the Maw. Make them regret ever setting foot near our waters. But be swift.”

“Swift and brutal,” Volnaxx confirmed, a terrifying approximation of a smile splitting his vertical maw. “Their cores will adorn my cavern walls.”

With a surge of displaced water, Lord Volnaxx departed the command post, gathering his elite Seventh Order guard, intent on delivering overwhelming, crushing retribution upon the audacious humans who dared prey upon his kin.

Oblivious to the abyssal fury converging upon them, Alaric’s group was busy with the spoils of war. The Kraken’s Maw Estuary, recently a chaotic battlefield, was now an open-air butchery.

Under Alaric’s watchful eye, the team worked efficiently. Lyra and Cassandra, their martial prowess making short work of separating durable hides or extracting tough internal organs that might have value, directed the physical recovery. Rosalind supervised the mages in carefully extracting the pulsating magic cores from the dead sea monsters, ensuring the delicate energy matrices weren’t damaged. Ceanna and her clerics cleansed the area of any lingering abyssal taint and tended to the minor scrapes and bruises the trainees had incurred.

The haul was significant. Dozens of Fifth Order cores – mostly from the Merrow warriors and Abyssal Crawlers – pulsed with watery, shadowy, or sometimes venomous energy. A respectable number of Sixth Order cores gleamed with more potent light – harvested from the Deep Crushers, the slain Abyssal Hydras, and the elite Merrow commanders. Three particularly large, bright Sixth Order cores came from the Deep Lurkers Alaric had personally disintegrated; their energy felt heavy, oppressive, tinged with abyssal cold.

Alaric took charge of the Fifth Order cores immediately. He sat cross-legged on a relatively clean patch of sand, a pile of the cores beside him. One by one, he picked them up, channeling his own potent mana, augmented by the subtle power of the Divine Harem God System.

His process was swift, efficient. He didn’t destroy the Beast Will within – the lingering primal consciousness of the monster – but rather… subsumed it. His own spiritual energy, amplified and altered by the System, flowed into the core, overwhelming the fragmented monster consciousness, dissolving it, absorbing its residual essence while purifying the core’s energy, making it stable and safe for immediate use by others. To an outside observer, it looked like a simple purification technique, albeit unnaturally fast.

‘System makes this trivial,’ Alaric thought, dropping another cleansed Fifth Order core into a growing pile. ‘Standard mages would take hours per core, risking mental backlash. I do it in seconds.’

He motioned for his women – Lyra, Cassandra, Rosalind, Kara, Ulriya, Brita, and Ceanna – to approach.

“These are ready,” he stated, indicating the pile of cleansed Fifth Order cores. “Integrate them into your Gauntlets.”

He produced several sleek, dark metal artifacts from his storage ring. They resembled stylized bracers or gauntlets, crafted from the Steele Family’s signature dark alloy, inlaid with silver runes. Each had a central socket designed to hold a Fifth Order core, with smaller emitter nodes along the forearm and knuckles.

“The ‘Nova Gauntlet’,” Alaric announced, handing one to each woman. “A joint project between myself and Iridelle.” He conveniently omitted Priscilla’s crucial contribution to the underlying theory. “It channels the energy of an integrated Fifth Order core to unleash potent offensive blasts.”

He demonstrated quickly, slotting a core into his own gauntlet. The runes glowed briefly. “Focus your intent. Channel your mana as a trigger.” He aimed at a distant piece of driftwood. A bolt of crackling energy, swirling with both lightning-blue and flame-orange hues, erupted from the emitters, striking the wood and obliterating it in a shower of sparks and steam.

“Lightning-flame fusion,” he explained. “Effective against a wide range of targets. Each purified Fifth Order core holds enough energy for approximately seven full-power blasts. Once depleted, the core crumbles; simply slot in a new one.”

The women examined the gauntlets with interest. Another ingenious, powerful tool provided by their Master/Son/Nephew/Lord.

“This will significantly enhance our ranged offensive capabilities,” Rosalind noted, already assessing its tactical applications.

“Useful for softening targets before we engage,” Lyra added approvingly.

“Or finishing off weakened foes quickly,” Cassandra mused.

Kara and Ulriya looked thrilled, another powerful weapon to wield in the Young Master’s service. Brita examined hers with detached curiosity, recognizing the craftsmanship. Ceanna accepted hers gracefully, understanding its utility even if direct offense wasn’t her primary role.

They quickly slotted the purified cores Alaric provided into their new Nova Gauntlets, feeling the contained energy hum against their skin.

“Practice familiarizing yourselves with the activation trigger,” Alaric instructed. “We may need them sooner rather than later.”

As the women experimented with their new toys, Alaric turned his attention to the pile of Sixth Order cores. These pulsed with significantly more power, their energies wilder, the faint residue of the powerful creatures they came from still palpable.

‘Too valuable to use as mere gauntlet fuel,’ he decided. ‘These have greater potential. Augmenting the manor’s defenses, powering larger artifacts, perhaps even aiding someone’s cultivation breakthrough…’ His eyes flickered briefly towards Brita.

He gathered the Sixth Order cores carefully, storing them away in his spatial ring. A good haul. Several high-quality water, ice, earth, and abyssal-type cores.

He noticed Brita watching him, a strange intensity in her gaze as he handled the Sixth Order cores. She approached him hesitantly as the others moved slightly away, testing their gauntlets.

“Master…” Brita began, her voice low, still tinged with the forced submission he had instilled.

“Yes, Brita?” Alaric turned, his expression neutral.

“The Sixth Order cores… you are storing them?” she asked, glancing towards his ring.

“For now,” he confirmed. “They have greater uses than disposable ammunition.”

Brita took a deep breath. “Master, as I mentioned previously… the Dark Seed within me… the one implanted by the Assembly…”

Alaric nodded slowly. He recalled her reluctant confession after their first night together, explaining the nature of the parasitic seeds Lord Vortan sometimes granted his favored operatives. Seeds that offered power boosts, but also ensured loyalty through pain or detonation. And some, like Brita’s, apparently held a deeper secret.

“The Beast Essence,” Alaric prompted, remembering the term.

“Yes,” Brita confirmed, looking down at her own hands, clenching them slightly. “Lord Vortan claimed this seed contained the dormant essence of a powerful creature. He said unlocking it would grant… significant power. A transformation, perhaps. But the energy required…”

“Is substantial,” Alaric finished for him. “Many Sixth Order cores, or perhaps Seventh Order.”

“Exactly,” Brita met his gaze, a flicker of something desperate in her eyes. “During the battle, feeling the ambient energy of those Sixth Order creatures dying… the Seed reacted. Stirred. When you handled those cores just now…” She touched her own chest, where the seed resided beneath her skin. “It… craved them.”

She looked back at him, her expression pleading. “Master, I believe… I think I can use the energy from those Sixth Order cores to stimulate the Seed. To begin the process of awakening the Beast Essence.”

Alaric regarded her thoughtfully. This was unexpected. He knew about the concept, but hadn’t considered it a practical possibility for Brita anytime soon. Unlocking such potential usually required specific rituals or massive energy infusions orchestrated by the Assembly itself. Could she truly draw upon the cores directly?

‘Interesting. If she can awaken this Beast Essence… what form would it take? What power would it grant?’ His curiosity was piqued. A potentially more powerful, more useful asset, bound even tighter to him if he facilitated her transformation, rather than the Assembly.

“Show me,” he commanded simply.

He retrieved one of the less remarkable Sixth Order cores they had harvested – from a Deep Crusher, its energy primarily water and earth – and handed it to her.

Brita took it, her hands trembling slightly. She closed her eyes, focusing inward, her Grand Mage aura flaring, tinged with faint wisps of darkness. She channeled her mana towards the Dark Seed, simultaneously drawing energy from the core held in her hands.

The Sixth Order core began to pulse rapidly, its light dimming as raw energy flowed into Brita. Her expression tightened, lines of strain appearing on her forehead. A faint, dark pattern seemed to momentarily appear on her skin near her collarbone – the Seed reacting.

After several minutes, the Sixth Order core was visibly depleted, its internal light almost extinguished, crumbling slightly at the edges. Brita opened her eyes, panting slightly.

“It works,” she breathed, looking amazed and slightly frightened. “I can feel it… the Seed absorbing the energy. Feeding. Growing warmer.” She looked at Alaric. “But… it consumed the entire core. And the Essence… it feels like it barely stirred.”

“So,” Alaric surmised, “it requires a significant amount.”

“Yes, Master,” Brita confirmed. “Many, many more. At this rate…”

“How many?” Alaric pressed.

Brita hesitated, calculating based on the feeling. “Dozens, perhaps? Of Sixth Order cores like this one? Maybe fewer if they were more potent, like the ones from the Lurkers?”

Alaric considered the logistics. They had maybe a dozen Sixth Order cores from this one encounter. Hunting enough to gather ‘dozens’ more would take time, significant effort, and attract unwanted attention.

“Continue absorbing what we have for now,” Alaric decided, handing her three more of the standard Sixth Order cores. “Let’s see how much progress you can make over the next few days. Report any changes.”

“Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!” Brita’s voice held genuine gratitude. He was willingly giving her resources that could significantly boost her power – resources the Phantom Assembly likely would have demanded stringent service for.

Over the next few days, Alaric’s group established a temporary, well-camouflaged base camp in the coastal hills overlooking the Kraken’s Maw Estuary. They conducted several more ‘training’ hunts, pushing deeper into the monster-infested waters, targeting specific concentrations of Sixth and Fifth Order beasts.

The mage contingent, under Rosalind’s increasingly confident command, grew more cohesive. Kara learned to erect layered defenses faster, integrating earth spikes and pitfalls. Ulriya’s control sharpened, her ice lances finding their marks more consistently, her blizzards becoming tactical tools rather than just raw power bursts. Brita became the linchpin of their control strategy, her freezing fields and shadow binds setting up devastating combos. Rosalind herself thrived under the pressure, her tactical acumen shining.

Lyra and Cassandra provided flawless oversight, their interventions becoming rarer as the trainees improved, their own powerful techniques practiced and honed in brief, decisive moments when they did step in. Ceanna’s clerics kept everyone topped up and shielded.

Alaric continued to act as the ultimate deterrent and occasional executioner, stepping in to eliminate particularly troublesome Seventh Order-aspirant monsters or unexpectedly large waves before they could overwhelm the trainees. His presence gave them the confidence to push their limits.

During the downtime between hunts, Brita dedicated herself to absorbing the Sixth Order cores Alaric provided. She went through them rapidly, her Dark Seed pulsing with growing energy. She reported feeling stronger, her control over her innate dark and ice magic sharpening further, but the Beast Essence remained dormant, a coiled potential deep within.

A few days into this routine, after consuming nearly all the initial batch of Sixth Order cores harvested from the estuary, Brita sought Alaric out in the secluded spot he used for meditation and planning.

She found him gazing out over the corrupted coastline, the Recall Anchor disc hanging subtly from his belt.

“Master,” she approached hesitantly.

Alaric turned, his expression calm. “Report, Brita.”

“The Sixth Order cores… they are almost depleted,” she stated, holding up the last, nearly drained specimen. “The Seed has absorbed much energy. I feel… different. Stronger. But the Essence itself… it remains locked.”

She looked down, then met his gaze again, determination hardening her features. “Master, I can feel it now. The threshold. The remaining energy needed… it’s immense. The resonance of the Sixth Order cores… it’s becoming insufficient. Like trying to fill an ocean with teacups.”

She took a deep breath. “I believe… I need the concentrated power of a Seventh Order core to break the final seal. To fully awaken the Beast Essence.”

Alaric listened intently, his ruby eyes studying her. He could sense the shift in her aura, the deeper well of power coalescing around the Dark Seed. She wasn’t lying. The process had reached a bottleneck requiring a higher grade of fuel.

Seventh Order Sea Monster cores. From creatures like the Deep Lurkers he’d disintegrated, or perhaps something even stronger. Hunting such beings was inherently dangerous, even for his team. They were skirting the edges of Arch-level power.

He remained silent for a moment, considering the risks versus the potential reward of having a subordinate wielding the power of an awakened Beast Essence.

Brita watched him, her expression anxious. Would he refuse? Would he deem the risk too great?

Alaric stepped closer, reaching out, tilting her chin up so she met his gaze. His expression wasn’t cold this time, but thoughtful, appraising.

“A Seventh Order core,” he repeated softly. “A significant request, Brita. Hunting such prey carries substantial risk.”

“I know, Master,” she whispered. “But the power… if the legends Lord Vortan hinted at are true… it would make me a far greater asset to you.” She framed it in terms of usefulness, the only currency she truly understood in their relationship.

Alaric held her gaze for another moment, then a slow smile touched his lips. Not predatory this time, but… calculating. Intrigued.

He moved his hand from her chin, letting it slide down her neck, pausing at the hollow of her throat before continuing its journey downwards, mirroring the possessive touch from the night he first claimed her. His fingers brushed lightly over the curve of her collarbone, then drifted lower, settling possessively on the swell of her breast through the fabric of her tunic.

Brita shivered involuntarily at the familiar, dominant touch, her breath catching. She didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

“Very well, Brita,” Alaric murmured, his thumb brushing against her nipple, eliciting a faint gasp. He leaned closer, his lips near her ear. “Your potential intrigues me. A loyal servant with the power of a legendary beast… yes, that would be… useful.”

His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer against his body. “Consider it motivation. If we encounter a suitable Seventh Order target during our hunts, one we can take down without undue risk…” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I will do my best to secure its core for you.”

He felt her tremble slightly in his arms. Relief? Gratitude? Or just the proximity of his power?

“Thank you… Master,” Brita breathed, the words sincere this time, gratitude momentarily outweighing the ingrained fear and resentment. He was actually considering risking himself, risking his team, to help her achieve this transformation. It was more consideration than Lord Vortan had ever shown her beyond cryptic promises. Perhaps… perhaps serving this Master wasn’t entirely terrible, despite the… physical demands.

“But,” Alaric added, his hand squeezing her breast possessively, his tone shifting back towards command, “such efforts require… compensation.”

His eyes darkened with familiar lust. “And I find myself in need of… stress relief after all this planning and hunting.”

Brita closed her eyes briefly. She knew what was coming. It was the price. But his promise… it made the price seem almost… bearable. Maybe even… strangely anticipated? The thought horrified her, yet her body was already responding to his touch, a conditioned reflex mixed with something new and confusing.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, the words of submission coming easier now.

“Good girl,” Alaric growled softly. He lowered his head, his lips finding hers, capturing them in a deep, dominating kiss that tasted of power and possession.

He backed her up against the rough bark of a large, secluded desert tree, his body pressing hers against the trunk, his hands already exploring, seeking the buttons and laces of her tunic.