Aetherios System [Slow Build OP MC, Isekai LitRPG/Cultivation] Chapter 157: Book 3: Chapter 13: Looting

Read chapter 157 of Aetherios System [Slow Build OP MC, Isekai LitRPG/Cultivation] by TTReynolds on NovelPedia.

Book 3: Chapter 13: Looting Book 3: Chapter 13: Looting “Oh holy fuck, you were waist deep in there too, how did you not die from the stench?” Kate gagged, leaning over, hands on her knees as she turned away from the basilisk mother corpse. “I’ve smelled worse.” Alex said. “Have you ever heard of Garret’s weaponized-funk?” Kate’s eyes flickered from him over to Garret, who was actively cutting through slabs of reptile muscle. At the mention of his name, Garret looked over at them with a blood splattered smile and danced his eyebrows. “I can only imagine,” she said. Then she promptly emptied her stomach at her feet. “Try not to imagine so vividly,” he laughed. The air still stank of smoke, blood, and basilisk rot when the last vial of stomach bile did its work. The mercenaries, along with Doran, who’d been petrified lay panting, their limbs wrapped in strips of cloth to keep the bleeding at bay. Whatever traces of venom the wounds still had, it made healing spells and potions rather ineffective. They were just going to have to suffer through for a bit until they could heal the old fashioned way. Kate wiped her mouth and shuddered before staggering away in apparent attempt to find cleaner air to breath. Alex shook his head and continued watching the work being done to dissect the basilisk mother. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by labored breaths and the faint hiss of steaming bile on dirt. The minutes just before had been dangerous. Even after Alex’s explanation of his thinking and actions, the others all looked at him warily. It appeared they just weren’t sure what to believe about him. And, Alex hadn’t exactly helped in that regard during their travel. He’d been standoffish, aloof on many occasions, and down right brutal in others. Such as when he was so nonchallantly cutting of limbs from his fellow caravan guards, even if it was to save their lives. Then there was his fight with Ghrukk, the brutal aura of his martial style, and the feral sort of feeling he knew he gave off due to his Wym-heart constitution. All of this mixed together to make Alex look, and feel, like a crazed sociopathic killer. Which was far from the truth… or at least he hoped it was. The tension had built steadily, everyone eyeing Alex or each other, searching for answers in places there were none to find. Then Ghrukk laughed. Loud and booming, his halberd slammed into the ground as he stood, the bandages around his ruined arm still soaked through. “Hah! You disgust me, human. I like it. Using the beast’s own filth to spit in its face. That’s Ork thinking.” Rynel barked a laugh of his own. “Reckless as all hell, but damned clever.” Even Doran, still pale and trembling, gave Alex a grudging nod. “Remind me never to piss you off, lad. An’ I owe you one, I’ll remember tha’.” The tension eased like a relaxed bowstring. Soon the circle of mercenaries and Worldstriders turned practical, drawn knives flashing in firelight as they began the grisly work of carving down the basilisk mother. A corpse of its size was treasure to the right hands. Scales were pried loose in sheets, heavier than shields and harder than standard mortal steel. Bones were pulled free of tendon and muscle, cracked and split, set aside for weapon hafts and reinforcement. The venom sacs, still gleaming green with a nasty sheen, were lifted out with care and passed toward Allie, whose grimace at the smell didn’t stop her from stowing them with practiced hands. Myrae, and a couple of the other alchemists, claimed glands and lesser organs, muttering among themselves about tinctures, pills, and potions. When it came to the beast’s core, the mood shifted. The orb was pried from her chest with no small effort, a baseball-sized jewel of crystallized aether that pulsed faintly in the moonlight. “The prized haul. A peak early-stage Adept Beast Core, who gets it?” Sarson called out to them, holding the item above his head. “It goes to the person who killed the beast. That’s fair, that is