6 Picky

Magic Stones were the lifeblood of both monsters and adventurers. Tucked away snugly within the chests of the former and eagerly sought after by the latter.

For adventurers, their primary source of income involved dispatching monsters and extracting these stones, which were then traded for money at the Guild of Adventurers. These shiny rocks were brimming with magic, capable of powering a lot of shit from what I remembered. From lighting up streets to purifying sewage and fueling household appliances like cooking stoves or freaking refrigerators, Magic Stones were indispensable.

They were like magic-infused oil.

*Crunch*

"And they are damn tasty as well, or at least those dropped by kobolds are," I spoke to no one in particular as I savored the glowing stone held in my right hand.

As the Magic Stone completely shattered between my teeth, a cool sensation spread throughout my body like a refreshing breeze. Its flavor was like mint-infused ice. And the best part was that despite being literal quartz, it didn't make my teeth hurt at all.

I didn't doubt that I was a tiny bit special in that regard.

"I must have really been out of it when I ate my first goblin, as I can't remember this taste for the life of me. Isn't that a shame, buddy?" I glanced towards my left hand as I asked my question.

The goblin whom I kept suspended in the air by its throat for the past few minutes, rudely, didn't respond. Its choked, desperate cries were barely audible as it wriggled with all its strength trying to escape my grasp.

I wasn't even holding it too tightly. I guess it was just that scared of me. Its green skin turning paler and paler must have been an overreaction on its part. The fact that its hands and legs were twisted in ways they were never meant to twist couldn't have had anything to do with that, of course.

If anything, its current state was due to the bad karma it gathered by attempting to bite my throat from behind while I was finishing my meal. I was merely the instrument delivering said karma...heh.

Was it hypocritical of me to torture the lil thing so much for doing the only thing imprinted in its tiny brain by the Dungeon?

Maybe, but this was the easiest way to keep it both tame and alive until I finished the main course. Now that Mr. Kobold was finally done with, Mr. Goblin's suffering wouldn't be prolonged unnecessarily... merely until the puncture wounds its teeth dug into my neck stopped bleeding...

.

My annoying thoughts melted like snow in the oven as my soul trembled.

I smiled as I felt my skill activating, like a gaping maw from within myself, absorbing each and every bit of monster essence consumed during my meal.

I felt the power coursing through my veins, but I also felt it was far from enough to recreate everything the Kobold had to offer. This amount of essence would only suffice for crafting a single skill. My Hunger was unwilling, I was unwilling, but I knew I had to settle...for now.

I both saw and felt my options, along with information that seemed to be embedded within the very being of the Kobold.

1 - Kobold Claws ( A curved, pointed appendage of short length. Sharpness and durability are proportional to the strength of the Kobold. Usually they do not exceed a rusted knife but can regrow if damaged.)

2 - Heightened sense of smell ( Gain the olfactory ability of a kobold - roughly 100 times stronger compared to a level 1 adventurer)

3 - Minor night vision ( See a little better in the dark )

I didn't hesitate before choosing the first option. Having something even remotely sharp would make both fighting and eating a lot easier in the short term. For me, who lacked any formal training and whose fighting style basically amounted to "strike the weak spots", having something sharp to poke holes into my enemies would be the greatest gift.

 I also felt there would be other monsters with heightened senses deeper into the dungeon, so there was no need to dwell on the loss. Increasing my immediate survivability took priority.

My soul trembled once more as Fenrir's Hunger did its job and forged me a new skill, imprinting it simultaneously.

1-Fenrir's Unending Hunger ( Devour the chains) 

2-Non-Deorum Opus ( Rise above ) 

3: Thick skin (devoured)

4: Kobold Claws (devoured) (new)

I felt my fingers heat up painfully as my nails grew and sharpened, digging deep into the neck of the goblin I held in my hand, piercing through both its skin and cartilage.

My grin stretched to impossible proportions as the goblin's eyes widened even further. It gasped, trying and failing once again to scream for help yet only managing to choke on its own blood.

Truly, Karma is a bitch.

∞

∞

Finishing the second course of my meal with a dessert in the form of a tiny Magic Stone, I couldn't help but feel that the taste was a bit lacking compared to the kobold one. Maybe it was due to a lower amount of Magic? Did Magic now taste like sugar to me due to my skill?

"Questions, questions, and nobody to answer them..." I muttered while looking at my blood-stained claws, their edge gleaming in the dim light of the Dungeon. With a simple thought, they slowly receded, dulling and retracting until they resembled nothing more than ordinary human nails.

It was a comforting thought, being able to turn these monstrous traits on and off at will, not because of any attachment I held to my humanity but due to the inevitability of interacting with other adventurers sooner or later. I wanted to be able to blend in, and I couldn't do that if I suddenly grew a few extra eyes or sprouted blades from the palms of my hands.

The lie of being a weird Pallum would only carry me so far after all...

.

Once again, I felt my very soul shake as my Hunger awakened, devouring the goblin's spirit so thoroughly that I knew it would never get another shot at living. It was a sensation I was now familiar with, the momentary strength coursing through my body but now it felt so very...lacking. Like a river turning into a tiny stream, or a wave weakening until only a small ripple remained.

It wasn't due to the goblin, as just like the first one I ate, it was birthed directly by the dungeon's walls. For all intents and purposes, they were practically identical.

It wasn't due to a lack of space within my soul. If anything, the thing felt all but infinite, whispering of endless potential and limitless growth. Then again, I was pretty sure all souls were like that, human ones at least.

And yet I felt distinctly that the energy extracted definitely wouldn't suffice for crafting a new skill.

So, rationally, I turned my gaze toward the last remaining suspect, and suddenly I knew...

Goblins consumed until skill acquiring: 1/10

that Fenrir was picky when it came to prey...