Beast Devourer: I Grow Stronger by Eating Monsters

The Greyhaven Mercenary House had nothing heroic about it.

Raven appreciated that.

The building occupied nearly an entire block of the western district, built from dark stone and thick wooden beams that looked as though they had been replaced several times over the years. Above the entrance hung an iron plaque bearing the symbol of a sword piercing a coin.

Not a dragon. Not a shield. Not a crown.

A sword.

A coin.

Raven decided that, if nothing else, the organization was honest about its priorities.

He entered with Darius shortly after noon.

The smell reached him before anything else did: beer, wet leather, weapon oil, sweat, dried blood, and an overly spiced stew coming from a kitchen somewhere in the back.

The ground floor was divided into three sections.

To the left were tables occupied by mercenaries eating, drinking, or comparing wounds as though they were medals.

To the right, several boards covered almost an entire wall. Papers of different colors, seals, drawings of creatures, and handwritten notices formed layer upon layer of available work.

The center belonged to bureaucracy.

Five counters.

Four employees.

One line of people.

And approximately the same expression of resignation Raven had seen in government offices across three different continents.

—Feels like home —he muttered.

Darius looked at him.

—Your home was like this?

—The people behind the counter looked just as happy.

The merchant laughed.

Raven surveyed the room.

Weapons everywhere.

Swords. Axes. Bows. Staves.

One man had an enormous mace leaning against his table. A green-skinned woman carried two curved machetes across her back. Near one of the pillars, a feline beastkin was cleaning something resembling a compact crossbow while his partner counted coins.

No one seemed concerned that roughly a hundred armed people were gathered in one room selling violent services.

Another normal thing.

Greyhaven was full of things that, back on Earth, would have needed to hide behind more pleasant names.

Here, they simply put up a sign.

MERCENARIES.

Raven preferred that.

—Do I need to register here to stay in the city? —he asked.

—Not specifically here —Darius replied—. But your temporary permit expires in three days. If you obtain mercenary affiliation, they can issue enough documentation for basic residency.

—And I can travel through the kingdom?

—Most places.

—Buy weapons.

—Yes.

—Take monster bounties.

—Yes.

—Access their records.

Darius smiled.

—I knew that would be the important one.

Raven looked toward the boards.

Dozens of creatures.

Dozens of potential meals.

—Useful.

Mira had decided not to come with them.

According to her, she had better things to do than watch Raven discover legal ways to get himself into trouble.

Raven suspected she simply wanted to sleep.

He couldn’t blame her.

He wanted to sleep too.

But first, he needed to stop being an unidentified foreigner who could legally be detained in seventy-two hours.

A small bell rang above one of the counters.

—Next.

Darius gestured.

—That’s you.

Raven stepped forward.

The woman behind the counter looked to be around fifty. Her gray hair had been pulled back so tightly it seemed to add another layer of severity to her expression, and a pair of small round glasses rested on her nose.

She didn’t smile.

Raven liked her immediately.

—Name.

—Raven Ashford.

The woman began writing.

—Age.

—Twenty-eight.

—Race.

—Human.

The pen continued moving.

—Kingdom of birth.

—None you’d know.

The pen stopped.

The woman looked up.

—That is not an accepted answer.

—Then write foreigner.

—From what territory?

—Very far away.

—Name?

Raven looked at her.

She looked at him.

Darius coughed behind him.

The clerk set down her pen.

—Mr. Ashford, I cannot register "very far away" as a sovereign territory.

—Unknown?

—Also no.

—Unaffiliated?

—That’s a different category.

—Then that one.

The woman studied him for several seconds.

Then she returned to the document.

—No verifiable territorial affiliation.

—Works for me.

—It wasn’t a suggestion.

—Even better.

The pen scratched against the paper a little harder.

—Registered family.

—None.

—Noble House.

—None.

—Clan.

—None.

—Sponsor.

Raven pointed his thumb toward Darius.

Darius’s eyes widened.

—Wait.

The woman looked at him.

—Mr. Hale?

—Not exactly a sponsor.

Raven turned slightly.

—You brought me here.

—That doesn’t mean I’m financially responsible for every horrible thing you might do.

—Smart.

The woman looked back at Raven.

—No sponsor.

—Correct.

—Blessing.

—I don’t know what that is.

This time, there was silence.

Not just at the counter.

A woman waiting behind him stopped talking.

The clerk slowly lowered her pen.

—You don’t know what a Blessing is?

—No.

—Have you been living under a rock?

Raven thought about the underground facility.

—Technically, for quite a while.

Darius covered his mouth.

The woman did not appear amused.

—A divine blessing. A mark granted by a deity, recognized temple, or registered higher entity.

—Then no.

—Bloodline.

—No.

—Innate Skill.

Raven considered Predation.

—Yes.

The woman’s eyes rose.

—Name.

—No.

—We need to register it.

—You need to know I have one.

—We need to know which one.

—Why?

—Risk assessment. Mission classification. Identification.

—Then I won’t register.

The clerk stared at him.

Raven wasn’t negotiating.

He could leave.

He would find another way to get documents.

Being a mercenary was convenient.

Not necessary.

She seemed to understand that.

—You may declare it private.

—What does that entail?

—The House will know you possess a Skill without knowing its function. You won’t be eligible for specialization-specific benefits, and certain missions may require additional disclosure.

—Private.

The woman wrote something down.

—Level.

—Three.

The pen stopped again.

Someone behind him laughed.

Raven didn’t turn around.

The clerk did.

Then she looked back at him.

—Three?

—Yes.

—Rank?

—Common.

Another laugh.

This one was clearly deliberate.

—Fuck —a male voice said—. I thought foreigners at least knew how to fight.

Raven kept looking at the woman.

Not because he hadn’t heard.

Because there was no benefit in responding.

The clerk continued.

—Proof of Level.

She placed a palm-sized crystal plate on the counter.

—Place your hand on it.

Raven examined the object.

—What does it do?

The woman sighed.

—Reads your approximate Level, Rank, and any registered Blessing. It does not reveal private Skills.

—Can it alter anything?

—No.

—Mark me?

—No.

—Track me?

—No.

—Kill me?

The woman looked at him over the rims of her glasses.

—Only if you keep asking questions until I decide to use it to beat you with.

Raven placed his palm on the crystal.

Gray light traveled across its surface.

For an instant, he felt mana interacting with his skin.

Then letters appeared.

Human

Level 3

Common

Blessing: None

The woman looked at the result.

So did the people behind him.

—No Blessing —someone repeated.

—Level three.

—What the fuck is he doing registering?

Raven removed his hand.

The noise in the room didn’t change much.

The looks did.

Curiosity first.

Then classification.

Raven knew that process.

People trying to place him inside a hierarchy they understood.

Foreigner.

No family.

No House.

No Blessing.

Level three.

Common.

Apparently, in this world, that amounted to very little.

Good.

Being underestimated was not the same as pretending to be weak.

Raven wasn’t going to lower his head or invent a fake Rank to manipulate anyone.

If they decided he was worthless based on incomplete information...

That was their problem.

The clerk took another sheet.

—Initial affiliation is Copper.

—Mercenary rank?

—Yes. Do not confuse it with existence Rank. Copper, Iron, Silver, Gold, Mithril.

—How do I advance?

—Completed contracts, evaluations, reputation, and Level.

—Can I take any contract?

—No.

There it was.

—Copper mercenaries have access to basic jobs. Gathering, local security, pest extermination, minor escorts, low-classification Common creatures.

Raven looked toward the boards.

—Awakened?

—No.

—Even if I accept the risk?

—No.

—Why?

The woman pointed somewhere behind him.

—Because when a Level Three idiot takes a Level Fifteen mission and dies, his family comes here crying, the authorities ask why we allowed it, and someone has to retrieve the corpse.

—I don’t have registered family.

The woman went silent.

Raven raised one eyebrow slightly.

—You just asked me.

Darius released a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

—Still no.

Raven nodded.

—Fine.

He didn’t argue.

The clerk looked mildly surprised.

She handed him a small copper-colored metal disk.

Name.

Number.

House symbol.

—Initial fee: fifteen crowns.

Raven placed the coins on the counter.

Another bite out of his hundred crowns.

He needed income.

—Your mercenary affiliation will also extend your residency for thirty days once you register your lodging.

—Useful.

—If you die, the plate must be returned to confirm your death.

—Less useful for me.

—Surprisingly, the rules were not written exclusively with you in mind.

Raven pocketed the plate.

He was starting to like this woman.

—Creature records?

—Second floor. Basic library access is free for members. Advanced records cost extra.

—Maps?

—Some.

—Anatomy?

That made her look up.

—Of monsters?

—Preferably.

Darius coughed again.

The woman pointed toward the stairs.

—Second floor.

Raven turned.

—One last thing.

—What?

—Where are the missions no one wants?

The clerk studied him.

—On the boards, like all the others.

—No.

Raven looked toward the wall.

The contracts were organized.

Colors.

Seals.

Categories.

Too clean.

—The ones with good pay because someone miscalculated the danger. The ones that have been sitting there for weeks. The ones that technically should have been reclassified, but no one wants to admit it.

Darius stopped smiling.

The woman showed nothing for several seconds.

—They don’t exist.

Raven nodded.

—So they exist.

He walked away.

The Copper board was depressing.

Collect eight bags of Moonleaf.

Clear Giant Rats from a warehouse.

Escort a scribe to a village six kilometers away.

Recover three missing goats.

Raven read that last one twice.

—No.

Darius stood beside him.

—What do you have against goats?

—Nothing.

—Then?

—I didn’t cross a dimensional anomaly to search for livestock.

—Technically, you crossed the anomaly before the goat mission existed.

Raven looked at him.

—Not helping.

He walked toward the next board.

A red line painted across the wood separated the contracts.

IRON OR HIGHER

That was where the interesting ones began.

Hunts.

Caravan protection along dangerous routes.

Investigations.

Creatures.

Raven read the Levels.

Some high Common.

Then Awakened.

He couldn’t officially accept any of them.

The Carrion Maw was several boards farther down, on a special hunting board.

Level 16–19.

Too soon.

Raven didn’t need to die trying to accelerate the process.

He needed something strong enough to give him experience and, preferably, a useful Trait.

He searched for nearly ten minutes.

Darius started getting bored.

—You know they aren’t going to let you take any of these.

—I know what they said.

—Then why are you looking?

—Information.

Raven found a contract.

He stopped.

Culling Request

Ashhorn Elk

Estimated Level: 8

Rank: Common

Location: Northwood Farms

Reward: 22 crowns

Nothing impressive.

Another.

Gravelmaw Boar

Estimated Level: 10

Common

Reward: 31 crowns

Better.

But Raven kept looking.

Then he saw one without a rank seal.

No.

It had once had a seal.

Someone had scraped it off.

Raven reached toward it.

Pest Removal — Abandoned Mill

Target: Gloom Stalker

Estimated Level: 6–9

Rank: Common

Reward: 20 crowns

The description had been corrected in different ink.

Underneath:

Updated sightings indicate possible evolved specimen.

Current estimated Level: 14

Possible Rank: Awakened

Recommended party: Iron-class, minimum 3 members.

And someone had added:

Supplemental hazard reward: +45 crowns.

Raven read another line.

Known Traits:

"Low-Light Camouflage"

"Burst Step"

Possible evolved Trait: Unknown.

Now that was interesting.

—That one.

Darius followed his gaze.

—No.

—Look at that. You’re already learning Mira’s favorite word.

—Because the two of you have the same kind of common sense.

Raven pointed.

—Level fourteen.

—You’re Level three.

—I know.

—Awakened.

—I can read that too.

Darius dragged a hand down his face.

—Then explain what part of this sounds like a good idea.

—Burst Step.

—What?

Raven tapped the description.

—Explosive movement.

—You want to kill that thing because it runs fast?

—I want to see if I can eat whatever makes it run fast.

Darius closed his eyes.

—Every conversation with you gets worse.

Raven pulled the paper from the board.

A hand caught it before he could remove it completely.

—That’s not for Copper.

Raven looked over.

The man behind him was perhaps twenty-five.

Short blond hair.

Polished plate armor.

A blue insignia over his chest.

A sword far too ornate for someone who expected to use it every day hung across his back.

Raven lowered his eyes to the man’s hand.

Then looked back into his eyes.

The mercenary released the paper.

—New.

It wasn’t a question.

Raven noticed the silver plate.

Silver.

—Yes.

—Level.

—Three.

The man laughed.

So did his two companions behind him.

One was a mage.

The other, a woman carrying a spear.

—Then go back to the rat board.

Raven pulled the contract free.

The man’s brow furrowed.

—Didn’t you hear me?

—Yes.

—And?

—You weren’t saying anything useful.

Darius whispered:

—Raven.

The mercenary took a step forward.

Predator’s Instinct reacted.

Hostility.

But mild.

More ego than genuine intent.

Raven watched him.

Unknown Level.

Probably considerably higher than his.

It didn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to start a fight inside an organization that had just given him documentation.

The man looked over Raven’s clothing.

—Foreigner.

Raven didn’t respond.

—No Blessing either, right? Saw you in line.

Several people nearby started listening.

—The House must really be going downhill if they’re accepting godless trash now.

Raven folded the contract.

Tucked it beneath his arm.

—You done?

The man’s smile faded slightly.

—Do you know who you’re talking to?

—No.

—I’m Cedric Valemont.

Silence.

Raven waited.

Cedric waited.

—Was that supposed to mean something?

Darius closed his eyes.

Someone at a nearby table burst out laughing.

Cedric’s expression hardened.

—House Valemont.

Raven still didn’t react.

—Still means nothing.

—Western nobility.

—Ah.

Cedric smiled with satisfaction.

—Then you understand.

—No. Now I know your parents have money too.

The nearby table erupted in laughter.

Cedric grabbed the hilt of his sword.

Predator’s Instinct reacted much more strongly.

Raven shifted his weight slightly onto his rear leg.

Stonehide ready.

Ember Spark available.

He wasn’t going to draw his knife first.

But if Cedric did...

A voice shouted from the counters.

—VALEMONT!

The gray-haired woman who had registered Raven was standing.

—Draw that sword and I’ll suspend your plate for a week.

Cedric looked at her.

—I was only—

—I don’t give a shit.

His hand left the hilt.

—That’s what I thought.

Cedric gave Raven one last look.

—You’ll be dead within a week.

Raven looked down at the contract.

—Probably not from this.

Cedric walked away.

Darius waited until he was far enough away.

—You have a talent.

—What kind?

—Making enemies.

—He started it.

—You sound like a child when you say that.

—Still true.

Raven walked back toward the counters with the contract.

The gray-haired woman saw him approaching.

Then she saw the paper.

—No.

Raven placed it in front of her.

—I want this one.

—And I want to be twenty years younger.

—I can’t help you with that.

—Neither can I.

She picked up the contract and pointed to the scraped-off seal.

—It was reclassified this morning. Iron minimum.

—It doesn’t have a seal.

—Because someone hasn’t brought a new one yet.

—Then technically—

—Do not try to beat me with technicalities inside my own House.

Raven looked at her.

—Who decides?

—The contract supervisor.

—I want to speak with him.

The woman sighed.

—Of course you do.

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