“Is that the mimic from before?”
Alia had finished her fight early and had actually watched Gauss skewer that lump of at out of the “chest,” but she asked again to be sure.
The “food” lying in the cast-iron pan—braised red and giving off a rich aroma—was such a far cry from the savage mimic that she almost wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t been beside Gauss the whole ti.
Otherwise she’d have thought he pulled a prepped al from his pouch and ward it on the chest’s residual heat.
“Yes,” Gauss said, lifting the hefty book in his hand. “According to this, it’s edible.”
His respect for the author of The Complete Guide to Foraging around the Jade Forest had only grown—the kind of knowledge that cos from first-taster courage and a mountain of work. A pity there was no author credit anywhere in the book.
The bookseller had only said it was public-domain, anyone with the ans could print it—and that it was part of a series reaching beyond the Jade Forest.
Alia’s blue eyes slid to the thick volu in Gauss’s one hand, her expression complicated. “That book again…”
Gauss had tried to sell her on it many tis; she’d always politely declined. If he weren’t around to taste-test first, she’d never touch questionable monster at.
She’d grumbled about him plenty in her head, but she had to admit he was mostly reliable with monster ingredients—though there were the occasional side effects.
“But an elite monster…” Up to now they’d only eaten low-tier creatures; this ti the ingredient was an honest-to-goodness elite. Was that really okay?
Gauss, unaware of her inner debate, drew his blade and followed the recipe’s steps. He cut off the tip and the root of the tongue first. Now that the mimic had lost all vitality, its flesh was no longer as tough as in battle; it still took extra effort, but he removed the inedible parts, and for safety he trimd away more than the diagrams required.
Then he took the middle section, sliced it evenly into thick slabs, and used a small knife to shave off the outer layer until the tender, healthy pink core was exposed. He rinsed away the residue.
What lay before him now matched the guide’s description of a pri, edible cut: translucent pink at like set cream jelly, laced with beautiful striations.
Under the soft glow of the luminous grasses overhead it even seed to gleam, like the most luxurious cut of toro from his previous life—irresistible.
Looking at the five or six pounds of essence that remained, Gauss’s Adam’s apple bobbed and a smile of anticipation crept onto his face.
“It… really does look good,” Alia admitted despite herself. If you ignored the charred fangs still stuck to the chest, the stench of half-digested sludge, and the pile of dubious-colored composite organs he’d cut away.
“We’ll sear so, stew so, and have you infuse so with natural power for keeping,” Gauss decided quickly.
There were only five or six pounds of pri at, and based on his past experience with monster cuisine they wouldn’t finish it in one sitting anyway. It was lunchti besides—they would have eaten even without a mimic.
“Give a hand?”
“Okay.”
Alia nodded, dropping the argunt. First, she knew she couldn’t talk him out of it; second, she was curious what an elite monster tasted like.
She turned to the platform’s edge to scavenge supplies—she was well used to being the one to gather fuel and set the fire. There was no proper firewood here, but she found plenty of dried, stiff vines and cut them to use instead.
Before long, thin smoke drifted up over the platform. A scrubbed-clean stone slab, set over the fire, glowed faintly. Thick tongue slices rubbed with crushed rock salt and brushed with oil t the hot stone with a hiss; the sound sang, and a rich aty fragrance burst forth.
Since the mimic had already been “oven-baked” once by high heat, this sear didn’t need long—about thirty seconds a side.
When both sides turned a tempting golden and the juices sizzled, Gauss lifted them off. He halved a slab—one piece into his bowl, the other into Alia’s—then, under her gaze, forked up the steaming at and popped it into his mouth without hesitation.
“Mmf!”
His eyes lit up the instant it touched his tongue. Intense savor and scalding juices exploded across his palate. His teeth bit down—tender yet springy, not the slightest toughness, and with every chew more juices welled out, the llow richness of fat interweaving with the at’s own aroma.
Better yet, the more he chewed, the more satisfying the bite, that tendon-kissed resilience yielding a “soft yet resilient” texture.
No wonder the guide praised it to the skies.
He’d thought rusttoad legs and frost serpent were rare treats; next to this seared mimic tongue, they faded into the background. Inside him, the storage glands kicked on, sending a hormonal rush that filled his brain with pleasure.
“So, so good!”
He let out a long breath, unstinting in his praise. Warmth flowed through him; a small piece of at, yet the energy hit like a big steak.
Seeing his delight, Alia plucked up her piece, took a cautious bite—
“Mm!”
In monts the sa look of surprise spread across her face. The flavor was flawless. And whether psychological or not, it seed to her that, unlike the two ordinary monster dishes they’d tried before, this elite at had an ineffable sweetness to it. For the mont, she set aside her scruples about monster cuisine.
Gauss, having “tasted the sweetness,” kept grilling. The at was so energy-dense, though, that Alia filled up quickly. Gauss ate a few more slices himself, then gave several to the drooling Ulfen. Echo the raven got a piece as well.
Stuffed as they were, the planned stew was scrapped. Fortunately they’d only boiled so water; the ingredients hadn’t gone in and nothing was wasted.
They stretched out on pads on the platform and lay there for a while. After a good rest they stood, stretching lazily. A hearty roast after a hard fight did wonders for the mood.
Gauss’s face suddenly brightened. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could swear his body felt just a little stronger.
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