System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 79
Behind the mural lay a small cultivated plot, a ring of ten strange plants standing sentinel.
They rose over two feet, their pistils purple, their leaves a vivid green, exuding an intensity of life so thick it felt almost tangible; nearby, a swath of blackened, withered plants lay like a contrast.
Just looking at them stirred a fierce urge to harvest.
Roy stepped closer and drew a deep breath, and for an instant it felt as if he had been rinsed from the inside out; his head cleared, his body sharpened.
The quickening in his chest grew louder.
Blood of the Sun Aliases: Devil’s Tail, Fennena Ichael, Dwarf Mountain-Mouse Herb
Legends say an elven marksman once loosed an arrow that pierced the sun itself. The sun’s blood dripped from the sky, sank into the earth and seeped through ancient stone cracks—giving birth to this miraculous herb. Rare beyond measure, it is famed for uncanny, inexplicable properties.
Type: Perennial herb Age: 52 years Habitat: Mahakam, Tir Tochair, the Dragon Mountains; found in the dark recesses of mines or abandoned shafts.
Uses:
1. Brewing the Panacea of Beauty.
2. Brewing a universal antitoxin.
3. Consuming more than five ounces may trigger unknown, but apparently beneficial, physiological changes.
Side Effects: Unknown
“Blood of the Sun.”
Roy mouthed the name, bewildered.
He knew a fair share of the Continent’s lore, but not everything. This plant fell into a blind spot. The Scry provided hints but no certainty; beneficial changes and negative effects alike were unknown.
A thought formed in his mind: the final mural had shown the Blood of the Sun dripping from the wounded sun, which suggested the herb was not native to this world but came with the elves aboard the White Ships, torn through the heavens from another realm.
“You seen this before?” Letho frowned when he heard the name, surprised. “It’s not in the notes I gave you.”
Roy said nothing.
Letho stopped pressing. He knew the kid carried secrets.
He crouched and, despite the limp, reached out to touch the nearest Blood of the Sun leaf.
The plant reacted like a shy child; the touched leaf folded inward with a faint, plaintive sound, huddling tight to the stem. The once-upright stalk shivered and bowed, as if Letho’s palm had scalded its tender frame.
“Shape, contact response, habitat,” Letho said as he bent over them, “all match the old accounts. Those might well be your Blood of the Sun.”
“Careful,” Letho snapped, pulling Roy’s hand away. “Don’t manhandle them, you’ll ruin the treasure.”
Roy looked baffled. Letho limped a slow circuit around the patch and explained.
“My old master Ivar Evil-Eye used to say this world has a handful of miraculous herbs. Witchers, mages and nobles all lust after them. Most only exist in dusty records and songs; few have seen them alive. Blood of the Sun is one of those.”
Letho’s eyes swept the curious plants.
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