Chapter 46: Beastman Village
With the materials for the magic book collected, the next step was more in-depth preparation.
Making ink with dragon blood as the base was not difficult; Serie knew the method, having heard about it accidentally from her elders in the Elf Forest.
The ancient knowledge came with warnings about dragon blood's temperamental nature: too hot, and it would burn through any container; too cold, and it would crystallize into uselessness.
However, she didn't know how to make paper that would last for a thousand years.
But Kurtz and his group encountered another village along the way.
Somewhat beast-headed people lived here, with humanoid torsos and limbs, but with beast-like heads that spoke of wild heritage barely contained by civilization.
They were intelligent and capable of effective communication.
Using this world's common language, Kurtz and his group successfully obtained permission to stay in this village for one night.
The negotiation had been surprisingly straightforward; hospitality seemed to be a universal virtue, regardless of species.
"You want to make dragonhide paper?"
One of the leopard-headed individuals, who appeared very old, was responsible for hosting Kurtz and his companions.
His spotted coat had grayed with age, and his movements carried the careful dignity of an elder.
During this time, Norn didn't forget to ask if he knew the method for making dragonhide paper.
And coincidentally, the other party actually knew!
"Honestly, I also heard about this from other races. After all, how powerful are dragons? Just their terrifying dragon flames are something no one can resist, let alone anyone daring to use their hides as material for making paper."
The leopard-headed elder had not considered that the seemingly frail group before him would possess the strength to slay a dragon, simply taking it as the curiosity of outsiders.
His tone carried the patient amusement of someone explaining fairy tales to children.
After all, among these five outsiders, besides the Elf and the Dwarf, he had never seen the other three creatures.
They possessed bodies similar to his own race, but why did they have no fur, even on their faces, directly exposing their skin?
The sight was both fascinating and slightly disturbing, like seeing a creature that had been somehow incomplete.
If it weren't for the lack of the Elf's slender ears, he might have even mistaken them for the Elf race.
Through the leopard-headed elder's narration, everyone finally learned that making dragonhide paper also required a special plant.
His weathered hands gestured as he spoke, painting pictures of ancient crafting techniques.
Even a dead dragon's skin retains terrifying residual heat on its surface, and writing directly on it would evaporate all the ink.
The elder's voice carried the weight of stories passed down through generations.
Therefore, a cold-attributed vine was needed to neutralize it.
As for the specific manufacturing method, it involved some steps similar to the papermaking techniques in Kurtz's memory, both of which involved soaking and crushing the vines in water.
The familiarity was comforting; some processes transcended worlds.
However, dragonhide certainly couldn't be crushed, so it needed to be soaked in the crushed vine water. Only after the residual heat had completely faded could the next step of production begin.
"So where can we find this cold vine?"
"I don't know that. Perhaps you can ask a tribe a bit further north. This type of vine usually grows on the snowy mountains in the north."
The elder's apologetic shrug was almost human in its expressiveness.
Kurtz felt a little troubled.
Their group was heading west, as the Godfall Land lay directly to the west, but the Dwarf Ruins were to the northwest. Adding a northern detour would complicate their already complex journey.
"How about we go north first to look for the cold vine?" Norn suggested.
"Since we've already collected the dragon blood and beast hide, we can't let these materials go to waste."
He actually had some personal motives, which the others could also see, but they didn't expose him. The magic book meant everything to Norn; it was his chance to contribute something lasting to the world.
After all, this was something everyone had agreed upon.
Somo scratched his chin.
"This way, we'll have to take a long detour. The Dwarf Kingdom Ruins are to the northwest. If we go north first, it will probably add at least half a year to our journey."
His practical dwarf nature rebelled against such inefficiency, but he could see the importance in Norn's eyes.
This world was very vast.
It would take ordinary creatures at least a dozen, or even several decades, to explore the entire world. The distances involved were almost incomprehensible: continents that stretched beyond the horizon and mountain ranges that took months to cross.
Unless you had some special abilities, like the Skywing Clan, who could naturally fly, which could greatly shorten this time.
Serie stood to the side and spoke calmly, "It's too far."
Serie didn't care about the half-year journey; she simply disliked the distance. Her ancient patience had limits, and unnecessary detours tested even her considerable tolerance.
Seeing Serie's stance, everyone stopped talking. Her word carried considerable weight in their group dynamics.
Only Kurtz pondered for a moment and said, "There's more than just cold vine among cold-attributed plants. Perhaps other types of plants could substitute."
Norn's eyes lit up; indeed, that was true. Hope flickered back to life in his expression.
The cold vine's purpose was to reduce the residual heat on the dragonhide surface during the making of dragonhide paper, so theoretically, other plants with the same effect could also be used as substitutes.
There were still many tribes and villages to the northwest, and someone among these races would surely know where to find plants with similar effects.
The world was very vast, but it was also full of knowledge waiting to be discovered.
Serie mused, "If that's the case, ice-attributed magic could also achieve the same effect, but..."
She didn't know ice-attributed magic. The admission stung her pride more than she cared to admit.
Perhaps Kurtz could create it, as he always brought her various surprises. The thought carried both anticipation and a grudging respect for his innovative abilities.
The leopard-headed elder listened to their discussion, a hint of surprise flashing in his golden eyes, "Um, did you truly slay a dragon?"
How brutal were dragons?
Moreover, after thousands of years of war during the Mythic Era, every dragon that survived was a renowned powerhouse.
The survivors were legends made flesh, terrors that haunted entire races' nightmares.
Ordinary creatures barely had time to avoid their residual might; how could they possibly dare to challenge them?
Eric smiled, eagerly taking out a relatively intact dragon scale from his luggage. The pride in his gesture was unmistakable; finally, a chance to prove he'd contributed to their legendary victory.
Although he wasn't the main damage dealer, he was likely the best at tanking damage.
That dragon had chased him for a full quarter of an hour, spewing countless dragon breaths during that time.
The memory still made his hands shake slightly, pure terror crystallized into something approaching bravery through sheer necessity.
At the time, Eric almost thought he was really going to die, but when a dragon breath grazed him later, he realized he didn't feel anything at all.
Upon closer inspection, he discovered a faint magical barrier around him.
It turned out that Kurtz had already taken safety precautions! The realization had been both relieving and slightly embarrassing.
Eric, greatly emboldened, immediately decided not to run anymore. He had run long enough; now was the time to counterattack.
However, the next second, that dragon was attracted by Serie's aura, leaving Eric quite dejected, and even his moment of courage had been overshadowed.
The yellow fur on the leopard-headed elder's entire face trembled violently, indicating his immense shock at that moment.
"This-this is a scale from an adult Red Dragon!"
Dragon scales were highly recognizable; almost no race on the entire continent was unaware of them. They were the stuff of nightmares and legends, symbols of power beyond mortal comprehension.
Seeing that the group possessed such terrifying strength, the old tribal chief's attitude immediately became much more respectful, "Honored Dragon Slayers, please move. We will provide you with a better house."
The title rolled off his tongue with reverence. Dragon Slayers were legends in the making.
In small villages like this, each house represented a single family, and there were basically no extra rooms.
So, Kurtz and his group still camped outdoors as usual, only preparing a tent for Serie.
The arrangement had become routine, a small acknowledgment of her status and preferences.
Now, hearing that the leopard-headed elder would actually vacate a room for them proactively, everyone naturally wouldn't refuse, and so they moved into a sufficiently spacious room.
During this time, the leopard-headed elder also arranged for villagers to bring various fruits and meat from unknown animals.
The hospitality was overwhelming, with platters of food that conveyed genuine respect rather than mere politeness.
Upon hearing that Kurtz and his group possessed the terrifying strength to slay a dragon, every villager's gaze towards them became much more reverent, no longer daring to scrutinize them casually.
It was important to remember that when they first entered the village, the villagers had almost all surrounded them. Curious eyes had followed their every movement, children pointing and whispering behind their parents.
After all, these beast-headed people had never seen humans, and even Elves were rare.
Kurtz and his companions naturally piqued the villagers' curiosity. They were exotic, strange, and utterly fascinating to beings who rarely saw beyond their own valley.
Now, having gained the reverence of these beast-headed people due to their strength, Kurtz did not ask them for anything else and thanked them for the room they had provided.
He was never one to bully the weak. Power, in his mind, carried responsibility and consequences, not the right to demand, but the obligation to protect.
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