With every turn of the spit, the at browned a little more, sizzling in a dance with the flas. Not a minute went by without Priam's stomach growling from the delicious aromas tickling his nostrils. Honest with himself, the amateur cook admitted that the scent of smoke was stronger than that of the at.
Using a strip of Chenoo fur as fuel, a crackling fire roasted a few choice cuts from the beast’s chest. The gaseous combustion product, mostly carbon dioxide, rose lazily toward the igloo’s ceiling, drifting through a crude opening Priam generously called a "chimney." He had miscalculated the position and size of the vent but relied on [Poison Body] and [Asphyxia Resistance] to endure the impure air in his shelter.
As he kept a close eye on his al, a droplet fell onto his hair, prompting him to cast a wary glance upward before refocusing on the roasting at. An Inuit might have had a thing or two to say about his ice shelter’s questionable design, but the do was solid enough to cut the wind, which was all Priam needed for now.
When the sll of the at finally beca too tempting, he carved a thick fillet with Prosse and wolfed it down. Knowing the at contained the souls of the Chenoo's victims, Priam had been hesitant about eating it. Those concerns vanished with the burst of flavor that shook his taste buds as he started chewing. The surprisingly tender texture caressed his palate, revealing a delicate taste, akin to wild boar.
A warmth spread from his stomach like a cozy blanket, wrapping him in comfort. Either this at had anti-freezing properties, or the gratitude of the dead was palpable.
“Did you even read the description?” Jasmine’s disgusted voice echoed. “You’re eating a local humanoid.”
“That thing was way past being a Rhem.”
Priam was hungry, but not enough to eat a sentient being.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve got a quest that lets earn the racial Talents and Concepts of the locals if I kill enough of them, and it didn’t upgrade.”
“All that proves is that Chenoos aren’t native to this universe but ours. One of this creature’s ancestors was infected by that bloodline and had descendants with a Valaryth native. In the transformation, it must’ve lost any Racial Talent or Concept tied to the Rhems—if it even had one—and adopted the Chenoo's traits.”
Priam paused mid-bite. Jasmine’s theory was plausible. According to Titus, there had been a war between their universes ages ago. It was entirely possible that so Rhems had had descendants with an invader. Willingly or not…
“Well, it’s possible, but its bloodline turned it into a mindless beast. I saw it in its eyes; that thing was as smart as a rock—actually, I’m almost sure coral is smarter.” Priam took another bite, feeling a warmth spread through him again. “Anyway, I’m freeing souls with every bite, so I’d say my karma’s in the clear.”
“... Do they taste good?”
Priam carved another chunk before answering. “The souls? Like booze—burns a bit going down. But the at itself? Excellent.”
A shadow dancing along the wall stretched out, and a hand erged. “Gim.”
The young woman’s principles faded in the face of her stomach’s call. Smirking, Priam offered her another piece. Her hand vanished back into the shadows, prize in tow. Even in the igloo, the temperature was biting.
After gorging on several kilos of yeti at—Priam’s stomach was strangely elastic—he turned back to the Chenoo’s corpse. He had made a clean incision at the belly to remove the entrails and retrieve his al.
Pulling at the skin, the warrior opened it like a sack and smiled as steam erged. The monster had mutated to resist the cold, and its body was warm inside. Nodding, Priam slid inside.
“What are you doing?!”
“Keeping warm,” Priam grinned. Bear Grylls would be proud.
With that, he drifted off, lulled by the crackling of the fire.
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