In a week, Liam's kill count reached a total of four level three scorpions. With his superhuman senses, finding them had hardly been a problem, and his sacrificial plays always allowed him to get rid of their tails, vastly decreasing the danger they posed.
Still, the hunts were never really the goal. Liam was using them to get better with the greatsword, but their true purpose had everything to do with the clear flask in his hands.
Liam lifted the container to the light shining from the underground hall's ceiling. The liquid inside was spotless, being an utterly pure concentrate resulting from the four tails.
'Finally,' Liam nodded to himself. 'Having no experts handle the refinement sure makes things harder.'
Refining ingredients was an alchemist's job, but raw organs didn't fall in that category. Experts in magical beasts would usually handle those materials, turning them into the shape in which they hit the market.
