The Plunder Festival.
A great festival was held in the village of Balak.
In fact, every day is a celebration for the Balak, but on a day like today, when meat is plentiful, it's unusually loud.
When the vines are cut, clear water pours out and pools in a large stone pot.
Into the boiling water were thrown lobsters, freshwater crabs, zaras, turtles, carp, catfish, venison, rabbit, squirrel, snake meat, caterpillars, beetles, ants, frogs, lizards, water grass, berries, mushrooms, and tree roots.
A huge stone pot bubbled in the center of the village.
All the small game that Balak's hunters have gathered is thrown into it, simmering into a rich broth.
Everyone in the village gets a fair share of the broth.
Larger prey, such as deer and boar, were roasted separately around the stone fire.
Everyone would gather around these large hunks of meat, singing and dancing merrily.
In the midst of all the noise and excitement, it was a huge hunk of meat in the center of the village, even bigger than the stone oven, that caught everyone's attention the most.
An oxbear, a giant, six-legged beast weighing a ton.
Without the bones and fur, the pure meat weighs over 800 kilograms.
This giant hunk of meat was the star of today's hunt.
Naturally, the hunter who captures the oxbear earns the respect, admiration, and gratitude of all the villagers.
That would be Aiyen and Vikir.
"How does it feel to be a hero, slave?"
Vikir didn't say much in response to Aiyen's question.
She smiled and patted Vikir on the back.
"An oxbear is a very honorable prey. They're strong and fierce, but they're also intelligent, unlike boars, whose eyes are dark, whose movements are slow and simple, and who are so scared they shit and scream when they run."
Aiyen shouted as loudly as he could, hoping someone would hear him.
Then he heard grunting and grunting from beyond the campfire where the meat was roasting.
It was Ahun, who had killed a fairly large boar.
"... Holy sh*t. I don't know how a dying creature could have gotten away with this. He must have gotten incredibly lucky."
Ahun spat once on the ground and glared at Vikir.
Then Ahun picked up his knife and cut the oxbear's meat into small pieces.
The entrails and blood are perishable, so he immediately puts them in a pot of water to boil, and the flesh is cut into small pieces for fair distribution.
Ahun then handed the meat to the villagers lined up in a row, and then to Vikir, who stood behind him.
...?
Vikir's expression frowned slightly as he accepted the meat.
The size and weight of the pieces of meat given to Vikir were dwarfed by those given to the others.
Even less than what the frail old men and sniveling children had received.
Vikir raised his head to protest.
"What are you doing?"
"...?"
Then Ahun looked up, annoyed. A puzzled look on his face.
Rather disgusted, he retorted.
"What are you talking about, you slave?"
"Why is my meat so little?"
"What? No wonder. Because your honor is so high!"
Ahun bellowed.
Vikir gave him a puzzled look, and Aiyen, beside him, broke out into a wide grin.
"It is a Balak tradition. The one who contributes the most to the hunt takes the least. In return, he receives an amount of honor equal to the lesser meat. If you can trade honor for meat, you have a great deal."
Ahun nodded in agreement.
"Damn. Part of me wants to give you a lot of meat, too! But you gotta give credit where credit is due."
Judging by his grumbling, he really does want to give Vikir a lot of meat.
Well, the less meat he gets, the more honorable he is.
Vikir decided that meat was better than honor that was worthless, but for now he could only nod.
'It doesn't really matter.
Though the meat was scarce, there was enough food to fill his stomach if he so desired.
In fact, the real harvest of this hunt was not meat.
-1 slot: Burn – Cerberus (A+)
Slot -2: Sacral Spine – Oxbear (A)
Slot -3: Tight Throat – Infernal Buffalo(A)
New skills gained from capturing Oxbear.
One of the three orbs of the magic sword Beelzebub is imbued with the hardy soul of the male Oxbear you killed last night.
The Hellhound's soul is gone, and the spirit of the stronger, higher-ranked Oxbear is Vikir's new slave.
The skill of Sacral Spine was simple and effective.
By holding your breath, you could increase your weight by nearly a thousand pounds (600 kilograms) in that time.
It's a pretty versatile skill for close combat.
Not only that, but the karma from killing the Oxbear was infused into his body, restoring a significant amount of health to his entire body.
Skills and experience.
Vikir was mentally calculating the results of this hunt.
"C'mon, Ahun. That's quite a kill, don't you think?"
Aiyen broke Vikir's reverie.
She had brought several kilograms of foreleg meat, a jar of blood, and the heart, liver, and gallbladder that were Vikir's share of the bounty, reserved for the best hunters.
Aiyen lifted the meat and waved it in front of Vikir's eyes.
Narrowing her eyes, she spoke with a burdened air.
"Just as important as the hunt is the preparation and preservation of the kill."
Aiyen wanted to use the grooming as an excuse to stick close to Vikir and interfere.
But there was one thing she didn't know.
Vikir had slaughtered countless demonic carcasses during the Age of Destruction, and his skill at removing their entrails, flesh, bones, and skins to preserve and cook them was almost masterful.
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle, chuckle...
Vikir soaked the hides in water in a wide bamboo vat and scraped away the fat behind them with a sharp stone knife.
The hides, which came off without a scratch, were set aside for tanning.
When dry, the hides were as hard as planks, but softened after a few beats with oil squeezed from the scaffolding.
The oxbear's flesh, guts, and blood were boiled in a pot, and the oils that floated to the top were skimmed off and used to light the lanterns.
The bones, claws, and teeth were used to make weapons and jewelry.
Meat as a whole was cooked in a variety of ways.
Some cuts were made into jerky, some were boiled into soup, some were boiled into tang, some were lightly poached, some were smoked over charcoal, and some were hung to dry in nodal....
Vikir was particularly good at smoking large pieces of meat whole.
Some of the people who watched Vikir work on the meat were dumbfounded and left their meat to him.
Among them was Aiyen, who had come to learn how to handle the meat.
Vikir tied the large chunks of meat to salted rope and hung them from a branch.
He then dug a pit and let the meat dangle in the center of the pit, and at the bottom of the pit he piled pine needles and oak and apple wood and lit a fire.
Once the fire was blazing, Bikir gathered branches, leaves, and mud to seal the opening of the pit.
After a while, he broke the mud lid, which had hardened under the fire, and pulled the rope to reveal a browned, smoky chunk of meat.
A whole oxbear hind leg was roasted.
The Balak people raved about the deliciously smoked hind leg barbecue.
Aiyen's eyes widened in amazement as he cut into the meat.
"What the hell can't you do?"
Nothing too extraordinary, given the age of the soul, but certainly surprising, given that the body was no more than fifteen years old.
Vikir watched the younger children eagerly pick at the chunks of meat, blowing on them.
The exuberance of young children is something that puts a smile on anyone's face, regardless of age.
Vikir watched as the people ate the meat he had roasted.
There was a slight quirk in the way the people of Balak shared their meat.
Those with bad eyes ate the eyes of an oxbear.
Those with bad lungs ate the lungs of the oxbear.
Those with bad legs ate oxblood legs.
Those with bad pancreas ate the pancreas of the oxberry.
The tribesmen seemed to believe that they could cure their ailments by eating the parts of their prey.
"Strange superstition."
Vikir thought to himself.
"Hey, slave."
Vikir hears a voice calling to him from the side.
Aiyen, who had slipped away after the dismemberment had begun, was standing behind him when he reappeared.
Cheeks burning, a large bowl of coconut in his hand.
The steaming bowl was filled with a hot, bubbling broth of oil.
Inside was a large chunk of meat, elongated and thick, making it hard to tell what it was.
"Organ?
I asked, though I couldn't tell exactly what it was because it was floating in a cloud of grease.
Aiyen snorted and said.
"I've taken what the shaman covets with the authority of a hunter, and this is for you to eat, by all means!"
"I have already received a piece of meat, a jar of blood, and some entrails."
"No, no, no, this is for you to eat!"
Aiyen insisted on feeding Hansako Vikir the meat soup.
Her logic was adamant.
"If your eyes are bad, eat the eyes of your prey; if your heart is bad, eat the heart of your prey; if your hands or feet are bad, eat the forelegs and hind legs of your prey!"
"What part of the oxbear is this?"
When Vikir asked about the identity of the long, thick chunks of meat in the bath, Aiyen only coughed and offered no explanation.
"Hmph, seeing as how you've been sleeping around in the cold, you'll definitely need this, eat some...!"
Aiyen mumbled the last part and swallowed it whole.
Reaction erupted around him instead.
"Woooo- Captain, you're already taking what's yours(?)!"
"Who gives that to a slave for his own good!"
"Ho-ho, the season of long nights is coming soon."
"That's too blatant! It's obvious what he's up to!"
The young women of the village booed Aiyen in unison.
"Shut up, girls! If you're not happy, you can go out with your lasso and get him!"
Aiyen raises her fist, her eyes glowing, and the heckling dies down.
"...."
Vikir frowned, not quite sure what to make of that.
Well, I'll take what I can get.
Vikir gulped down the hot broth.
He chewed and swallowed every last bit of the coarse meat that had sunk into his stomach as Aiyen kept urging him on.
"This is so tough."
The texture itself was similar to the haggis she was used to eating in Baskerville, but it was much more savory and chewy than that.
…Gulp!
Bikir's throat gurgled loudly once.
Only then did Aiyen's expression soften.
"I see. Now you're going to give me an excuse."
Vikir frowned slightly once more.
"I think I've already given you more than your fair share of hunting.
He couldn't quite figure out what more she wanted here.