Chapter 274: Nether Cores

Regaleon’s reminder brought the group back to the immediate aftermath of the battle. Several members were visibly exhausted, and more than a few had sustained injuries that required attention.

Although the Ratchyrs, despite being Rank One Netherytes, were not particularly difficult to defeat individually, fighting them for such an extended period while surrounded by overwhelming numbers had been both strenuous and mentally taxing.

Strength alone could not eliminate the dangers of being outnumbered, especially when even a momentary lapse in concentration could leave someone with a mouthful of incisors and a paw of claws embedded in their flesh.

Furthermore, regardless of how easily a creature could be killed, it could still inflict injuries before meeting its end. Regaleon, for instance, had been overwhelmed by a dozen Ratchyrs at one point, forcing him to defend himself against their coordinated assaults while preventing their claws from finding weaknesses in his armour.

Even with his experience and formidable Soul Essence, he had not emerged entirely unscathed. The others had fared no better, and the accumulated strain was beginning to show in their expressions and movements.

Around them, the floor was littered with dead Ratchyrs, broken masonry, and scattered fragments of claws and incisors that still gleamed with a sinister sharpness beneath the crimson light. Dust clung to their clothing, while the stench of black blood and damp fur had settled so thoroughly into the chamber that even breathing felt like an unpleasant chore.

Even the headless statue of the six-winged Knight, which might once have commanded reverence from anyone who entered the temple, now resembled a cesspool of filth and blood.

Dark stains marked its stone armour, and the remains of several Ratchyrs had accumulated around its pedestal, transforming the once-dignified monument into something more appropriate for a particularly gruesome battlefield.

Yet, among the corpses and dirty rubble lay something far more valuable than the remains themselves: Nether Cores.

The group could hardly deny that this was the second time they had gathered such resources in considerable quantities. Their first opportunity had come the previous day, after they slaughtered more than half of the wolf pack.

Nevertheless, although they had already encountered Nether Cores, seeing so many scattered across the temple floor offered another reminder of the strange economy governing survival in the Nether Lands.

Unlike Aether Cores, which resembled luminous orbs or miniature lanterns and displayed colours that corresponded to their respective Ranks, Nether Cores were considerably more ominous in appearance. These small, nearly palm-sized crystals could be recovered from the bodies of Netherytes, their dark surfaces concealing the condensed energy accumulated within their hosts.

Like Aether Cores, they formed through the accumulation and condensation of energy, except that the energy involved was Nether rather than Aether.

Furthermore, their sizes varied according to the strength of the creatures from which they were recovered, making their dimensions one of the few reliable ways to distinguish the resources left behind by different Ranks of Netherytes.

The two Nether Cores belonging to the Rank Two Ratchyr leaders were considerably larger than those recovered from their lesser brethren. Even from a distance, their surfaces appeared to drink in the surrounding light, leaving only faint, murky glimmers beneath their blackened shells.

Unlike Aether Cores, whose colours and dimensions could provide clues about their origins, Nether Cores possessed no such convenient distinctions. Their colour remained uniformly dark, resembling the unfathomable depths of an abyss where even light seemed reluctant to venture. Only their sizes offered an immediate indication of the strength of the creatures from which they had been extracted.

In other words, the bigger the Nether Core, the higher the rank of the creature that left it behind.

For cultivators and practitioners struggling to survive in the Nether Lands, such resources were difficult to ignore. Every Core represented condensed energy that might prove useful, and leaving them behind would have been comparable to abandoning a pouch of valuable currency simply because collecting it required bending down.

Veyrath, therefore, was understandably pleased when he spotted the first Nether Core beside a fallen Ratchyr.

The auburn-haired Alchemist crouched down, wiping the black blood on his face as he examined the crystal. Despite the blood, dust, and other unpleasant remnants surrounding it, his interest was immediate.

He extended his hand, his fingers approaching the dark crystal when...

"Be careful with that." Aelric’s voice suddenly cut through the chamber, carrying an unusual note of urgency that made Veyrath pause.

The failed Alchemist turned towards him, momentarily startled by the sharpness of the warning. "Why? Is it going to bite me?"

Veyrath attempted to ease his nerves by adopting the air of someone making an amusing observation rather than questioning whether the object before him might be dangerous.

Unfortunately, the subtle clench of his jaw betrayed his apprehension. After spending the afternoon being chased by creatures that considered human flesh a perfectly acceptable meal, he was understandably reluctant to discover that their remains possessed similar ambitions.

"Bite you?" Aelric repeated, his expression briefly contorting as though the question had offended his intelligence. "Biting you is the least of the things it could do to you."

The words settled over the group with considerably less reassurance than Aelric presumably intended.

Veyrath stared at him. Vaelorin, who had been preparing to inspect another fallen Ratchyr, slowly turned his head. Even Regaleon’s attention shifted towards the green-eyed youth, his golden gaze narrowing slightly.

Aelric regarded their bewildered expressions before apparently realizing that his explanation had not been particularly helpful.

"Well, that didn’t sound right."

He coughed, using the sound to conceal his momentary embarrassment, although the gesture did little to restore confidence in his ability to explain matters sensibly.

For someone who had spent six years surviving in the Nether Lands, Aelric occasionally demonstrated an extraordinary talent for making ordinary conversations unnecessarily alarming even when they aren’t supposed to be.

His expression soon grew serious, however, and the careless humour disappeared from his eyes.

"You see, these Nether Cores are different in a very dangerous way."

Veyrath frowned at the crystal before looking back at him.

"You’re going to have to be more specific if you want us to understand what you’re talking about."

Somehow, the failed Alchemist suspected that whatever Aelric was about to explain would be something he would find difficult to accept.

He had hoped that gathering the Nether Cores would at least provide the group with a small measure of consolation after such an exhausting battle.

After all, it was only natural for cultivators and practitioners to collect useful spoils after defeating their enemies, particularly when the rewards could contribute towards their continued advancement.

Veyrath had already begun considering the possibilities these crystals might offer, and the thought had lifted his spirits more effectively than any encouraging speech could have managed.

Unfortunately, Aelric appeared determined to complicate matters.

The auburn-haired Alchemist glanced once more at the dark crystal resting beside the corpse, his earlier enthusiasm gradually giving way to unease.

He had no intention of surrendering a potentially valuable resource without good reason, but neither did he wish to discover that his eagerness had led him into a predicament from which even his Cauldron would offer little protection against.

And judging by Aelric’s expression, it seems that the warning was only the beginning of their dissatisfaction...