Fortunately, real-life Lavasioth didn't have access to a Dimensional Iron Bash, or he really might not have taken it down.
His dual respiratory system allowed Logan to exchange gases efficiently, increasing oxygen intake while rapidly dissipating body heat. His rapid breathing from the intense fight soon steadied. He clamped his jaws on one of the Lavasioth's pectoral fins and dragged the carcass ashore.
Only after pulling it two or three hundred meters away from the marsh did he stop—after all, a place that could produce a Lavasioth might harbor other dangers. He wasn't about to eat near the water.
This Lavasioth, a monster over ten meters long, had a slender fish-like body yet weighed well over four tons. Even with Logan and Zhu Peiniang's appetites, they couldn't possibly finish it all.
So they started with the most nutrient-rich parts: the organs. Using his sharp arm blades, Logan sliced a massive opening along the belly. Red and green viscera spilled out instantly.
This wondrous creature—breathing through gills, lungs, and skin alike—had meat that combined the delicate freshness of fish with the satisfying chew of land animals. It was exceptionally delicious. The heart, liver, and other organs quickly vanished into their mouths, followed by the fatty belly.
Once those were gone, their stomachs were stuffed—no room for more.
Logan gazed at the remaining half-carcass, feeling an inexplicable pang of waste. This was prey he'd fought and injured himself to capture—could he really just let it rot?
If this were the Hoarfrost Reach, he could hunt a monster with freezing breath to use as a living freezer.
In the game, he'd always find oddities like Froststalks or Flamefruit—natural cold-emitting minerals and plants. Gather enough, and they'd form a natural cold storage.
But he'd been in this world nearly half a year now. Whether due to the local environment or simply not paying attention, he'd never encountered anything similar.
Still, objects are dead; beings are alive. There were ways to preserve meat long-term beyond just cold.
Food spoilage was essentially bacterial growth. To keep it fresh: lower bacterial activity (low temperature), isolate from bacteria (vacuum sealing), or destroy their living conditions (high salt or dehydration).
Low temperature and vacuum weren't options. He had no large salt reserves—his only sodium came from blood. But it was summer; the sun blazed with endless heat, perfect for drying jerky.
Logan severed the Lavasioth's hard head, clawed feet, and thin fins with little meat. Then, with Zhu Peiniang, each biting a leg, they dragged the carcass swiftly toward the Wildspire Waste.
The thick, smooth scales on its back meant no worry about abrasion. At full sprint, they soon reached an open, barren area.
No trees blocked the midday sun, which poured energy freely. Everything in sight was blinding gold. Sandy gravel mixed in the dry clay reflected light, distorting the air like steam. A lone unknown weed in a nearby rock crevice drooped listlessly in the hot wind.
Even with dense scales and thick pads, Logan faintly felt the ground's scorch—and that was exactly what he needed. His gaze swept around, soon spotting a towering cactus.
A classic columnar cactus: a central pillar over fifteen meters tall, surrounded by numerous branches densely covered in foot-long spines. Pink cactus flowers bloomed at the top.
Logan hauled the carcass beneath it. Coordinating with Zhu Peiniang, they quickly butchered the prey.
His arm blades danced, slicing long, thin strips that were hung on the sun-facing spines. Soon, the green cactus was draped in pink meat strips, fluttering like countless ribbons in the hot gusts.
Dry environment, intense baking, ample airflow—these conditions rapidly wicked away moisture. Over time, the strips visibly darkened and hardened.
Logan estimated that by sunset, they'd be seventy percent dry; another day tomorrow would yield proper jerky.
The only trouble was the Shamos overhead, lingering and occasionally diving to steal a piece.
This forced Logan to stand guard under the sun like a living scarecrow—otherwise, the meat would be gone in half an hour.
Finally enduring until near sunset, Logan was parched, lips cracked. He hurriedly gathered the jerky, bundled it with silk from his foreclaws, and slung it over his back.
A pound of fresh meat, fully dried, yields only two to three ounces. After removing bones, he had several hundred pounds of semi-dried jerky—trivial weight for his powerful muscles.
With Zhu Peiniang, he prepared to head back to the nest. Just then, a violent tremor shook the ground.
What the—?
The sudden change startled Logan. His eyes scanned frantically. To the left-front, a massive bulge appeared in the hard loamy sand, rapidly approaching.
The next instant—a thunderous explosion. Soil and stone sprayed skyward amid yellow dust. The bulge erupted, and a colossal black shadow burst forth.
A behemoth over twenty meters long, its robust body encased in black carapace tougher than rock. Massive horns curved skyward like a demon's. Its huge maw brimmed with stout fangs.
It flapped powerful wings—degenerated membranes stirring gusts that cleared the dust. Muscular legs left deep prints. Its thick tail swayed lightly, the end enlarged with bone and keratin into a spiked hammer.
Damn! Black Diablos!
(End of Chapter 34)