After killing a creature, Tatehan had developed a habit—walk over and check it for cores. Almost every creature on this godforsaken planet had them, and he'd be damned if he'd waste resources just lying around.
It was crazy how literally almost all of the creatures he had fought had cores on them except from the common brutenecks.
It seemed to be some weird fantastic stuff on this planet. Hellish nightmarish creatures coming with valuable cores.
So he walked over to the dead slime-monkey, stepping carefully around the pools of oozing liquid spreading across the ground. The stench hit him even through his helmet's filters, rotten and acidic. He crouched beside the corpse, near where his second shot had blown open its chest.
There, embedded in the ruined flesh and shattered ribs, was a core.
Inasmuch as he a bit skeptical that he would find any core, seeing one right now made him realize he was actually confident he would.
