Chapter 103 – The Anatomy of Hunger.

Boran's cabin stood at the end of a dusty alley near the eastern palisade of the Iron Cauldron Outpost.

The shack was built from dark timber planks and red granite blocks, with dried animal hides hanging from bone hooks along the outer wall. Inside, the air smelled of dry woodsmoke, animal grease, and bitter tea leaves simmering in an iron kettle atop the stove.

Diana entered through the low doorway, pulling back the hood of her black leather coat.

Her obsidian horns brushed lightly against the wooden doorframe, and she adjusted her high collar with a quick movement.

Boran sat on a three-legged stool near the rustic table, repairing a leather strap with a bone awl. The old man's good amber eye followed the Commander's entrance, noting the purple glint of the amethyst circlet fitted between her black horns.

“You're up early for someone who almost had her leg torn open by a boar yesterday,” Boran commented, nudging a second stool forward with his foot.

“Minor wounds heal fast.” Diana pulled up the stool and sat at the table, setting down a blank scroll and a glass quill upon the wood. “I came here for information.”

Boran poured two clay mugs of bitter herbal tea and pushed one toward Diana. “Information on what?”

“On the fauna of this Circle.” Diana rested her elbows on the table, direct and precise. “In the Second Circle, I knew the monsters' attack patterns. Here, I am blind. I want you to explain the behavior, weak points, and hunting habits of every creature between Level 45 and Level 50 dwelling in the rifts beyond the city.”

***

Boran paused the awl on the strap.

He looked at the glass quill in Diana's hand, then at the intense, focused posture of the seventeen-year-old girl.

Most hunters arriving in the Third Circle with expensive armor relied solely on the brute force of their axes and the hit point pool of their breastplates. Rare were those who took the trouble to study their prey's biology before stepping into the mud.

The old man stood up, took down a tanned leather map pinned to the wall with boar teeth, and spread it across the wooden table.

“The terrain beyond the palisade forgives no miscalculations, girl,” Boran said, his raspy voice cutting through the cabin's silence. “If you want to hunt Level 45 to 50 monsters without a full squad holding the vanguard, you need to understand how Gluttony warps their behavior.”

He pointed a calloused finger toward the first sector marked to the east:

“The most common apex predator of the high rifts is the Gluttonous Rift Manticore (Level 48),” Boran explained. “It has the body of a red lion, leathery wings, and a scorpion's tail. But unlike common manticores, the Gluttony variant carries tail quills coated in gastric acid that dissolves iron within three seconds of contact. They hunt in pairs at dusk.”

“What is its anatomical weak point?” Diana asked, jotting down notes with the glass quill.

“The membrane under the wings,” Boran said. “To achieve flight with a heavy body loaded with blubber, the skin in the wing joints lacks any protective layer of fat. If you land an ice spell directly into the wing hinges while they are airborne, the membrane tears and the beast plummets without being able to glide.”

***

Boran shifted his finger across the map to a depression marked in dark gray:

“Deeper in the ravines, near the thermal waste channels, lives the Acid Fat Centipede (Level 47). It is a fifteen-meter-long monster tunneling beneath the packed dirt. It secretes a slick oil from its carapace that causes any physical slashing or blunt attack to glance off without inflicting deep damage.”

Diana looked up from the scroll. “A monster constantly coated in biological oil?”

“Exactly,” Boran nodded. “Sword strokes and hammer blows only scratch the surface.”

“Then it is a torch waiting for a spark,” Diana concluded with a cold smile. “If the carapace is coated in combustible oil, fire will seep into the seams and incinerate the beast from the inside out.”

Boran blinked his good eye, impressed by the speed with which the Commander deduced the monster's biological flaw.

“You think fast, girl,” the old man continued, pointing to the third sector:

“The last group you must avoid when they gather in packs are the Sulfur Hyenas (Level 45). They roam in packs of six to eight beasts. They do not attack head-on. Instead, they use high-frequency shrieks that trigger severe headaches and break the concentration of anyone attempting prolonged spellcasting.”

Diana noted every detail:

- Manticores: Hunt in pairs. Use Ice Lance on wing membranes to ground flight and finish them off on the ground.

- Centipedes: Carapace immune to slashing. Use the Obsidian Horns' Igneous Focus and Greed's Flame to ignite the gastric oil.

- Hyenas: Pack-based sonic attacks. Use Area-of-Effect Orb of the Arcane Storm to stun their sensitive hearing before they encircle.

***

Diana cross-referenced the notes with the formulas she had mastered in her Level 20 Alchemy.

She knew exactly what she needed to prepare in the inn's laboratory that afternoon: darts coated in thermal shock poison for the manticores and cooling balms to neutralize tail acid.

Boran rested his hands on the edge of the table, looking at the map:

“If you want to reach Level 40 quickly... there is a narrow valley a four-hour march from here: the Gorge of Burned Bones. A pair of Level 48 Manticores has nested on a rock ledge near the chasm's rim. If you can ambush them before they take flight together, the experience from that nest is yours.”

Diana blew on the wet ink on the scroll, slipping the folded paper into her jacket pocket.

“We head to the Gorge of Burned Bones early tomorrow, Boran,” Diana declared in a firm tone.

She drew two pure silver coins from her dimensional bag and placed them on the wooden table: one coin for tomorrow's hunting wage and the other as payment for the biological map intelligence.

Boran took the coins with a respectful nod, pocketing the money inside his patched coat.

With the payment completed, the total balance in the faction vault adjusted to an untouched 380 Silver Coins (38 Gold Coins).

Diana rose from the wooden stool, adjusting her black leather coat over her shoulders and settling the hood over the amethyst circlet.

She was no longer a blind outsider in that Circle.

Now she possessed the map, the prey's weak points, and the right formulas for the hunt.

Stepping through the door of Boran's cabin into the coppery morning light of the Third Circle, the Commander of Greed felt her mind sharp and ready.

The hunt for the Level 48 Manticores would begin at dawn. And with them, the milestone of Level 40 would be reached.