Monster Tamer is the Worst Class-Chapter 74: The Cult of Meat Vault

Eren returned to the cave’s exterior.

The heat was different now.

Less stifling.

More controlled.

Unnatural.

He could feel it.

Something there... was managing the climate.

And it wasn’t ordinary magic.

The vegetation around the entrance was too clean.

The trails were visible.

Branches were cut at perfect angles.

Nothing grew excessively.

Signs of constant maintenance.

Signs of human presence.

Eren followed the eastern trail.

In silence.

The system did not indicate any enemies.

But the tracks were everywhere.

Light footprints.

Unhurried.

Weightless.

Several comings and goings.

Loads being carried.

And left behind.

He crouched down.

A fragment of eggshell.

Dry.

Open.

Empty.

[Alchemical Shell Residue]

[Origin: Arkana Egg]

[Status: Empty | Essence Charge: 0.1%]

[Commercial Value: Symbolic]

Someone was harvesting the eggs.

And redistributing them.

Eren stood up.

He followed the tracks.

The trail led to an elevation.

Three stone columns surrounded a platform of living wood.

In the center, an altar made of intertwined roots.

On top of the altar, a symbol.

Three golden circles, superimposed.

And in the center... a cracked egg.

Below it, a crack.

A receptacle.

Like an urn.

The place smelled of fermented sap mixed with dried blood.

Someone had recently performed a ritual.

Eren approached.

There was no reaction from the system.

[Unregistered Worship Area]

[Spiritual Interference: 6%]

[Divine Entity: None identified]

He analyzed the symbol.

It was not from Arkana.

It was about her.

A constructed representation.

Worshipped.

Misrepresented.

Eren looked around.

Hanging from nearby branches were strings with miniature eggs.

Made of resin.

Some with strands of human hair attached to the base.

Objects of faith.

Not amulets.

Relics.

Ritualistic.

"Meat Safe," someone murmured.

Eren turned his face.

Behind him, a woman.

Pale skin.

Thin arms.

Tattoos in the shape of vines climbing up her ribs, visible under a torn cloak.

She was barefoot.

The ground did not hurt her.

"You found the altar," she said, smiling. "That makes you closer to the truth than the others."

Eren remained silent.

"She is the mother of gold. The first to lay something that didn’t need a nest."

The woman approached.

Her face was serene.

Her eyes... opaque.

No reflection.

No focus.

"You touched her, didn’t you?"

Nothing.

"She hasn’t chosen you yet."

Eren analyzed her features.

Her pupils were too dilated.

Her breathing was slow.

She was under the influence of some substance.

Something that kept her conscious... but obedient.

"The economy is flesh, tamer," she said. "It always has been."

She walked to the altar.

She knelt down.

She touched the base of the crack with two fingers.

"We take the eggs."

"Not for power."

"But for distribution."

"One egg here."

"One egg there."

"And the markets begin to vibrate."

"The people buy what they don’t understand."

"And worship what they don’t possess."

Eren took a step back.

She didn’t stop him.

She just looked over her shoulder.

"There are others like me."

"We take the eggs out of Tessára."

"But only the ones she allows."

Eren replied for the first time.

"How many eggs left?"

She smiled.

"Many."

"But none were sold."

"They are donated."

"Delivered."

"But they all come back... somehow."

"Even if only as a desire."

[Relevant Information: Ritual distribution of eggs detected]

[Source: Interlocutor – Subordinate Witness]

[Status: Active Cult]

[Suggested Name: Meat Vault]

Eren activated the internal tracker.

He marked the altar.

He recorded the name.

The woman slowly stood up.

She left her chest bare for a few seconds.

Slowly.

Without disguise.

Her body was marked with burned symbols.

Circles.

Lines.

Her small breasts were marked with runes.

But not magical ones.

Rituals.

"One day you will understand," she said, naked before him.

"That the only true currency... is that which is born from within."

Eren ignored her.

He turned away.

He descended the secondary trail.

Further down the path, two men watched him.

Grayish skin.

Floral tattoos.

No weapons.

But with identical eyes: opaque, empty, motionless.

He scanned them mentally.

[Registered Individuals: Cult Subordinates]

[Hostility: None]

[Function: Observation | Flow Control]

They were there to monitor.

Not to protect.

Eren passed between them without slowing down.

Further on, he found one of the secondary markets.

Sellers of amulets.

Herbs.

Monster essences.

And... miniature golden eggs.

An old man was selling them on a tray of leaves.

Eren stopped.

"Price?" he asked.

The old man didn’t answer.

He nodded.

Behind him, another man watched.

Same dull eyes.

Same scarred skin.

Eren understood.

There was no price.

It couldn’t be bought.

It could only be received.

And only if you were part of the belief system.

A closed circuit.

Gold was not a product.

It was gospel.

Eren looked at the miniature.

[Item: Cult Egg]

[Function: None | Value: Spiritual Reliquary | Status: Charged]

[Note: Carrying more than 3 activates passive observation from the Vault]

He backed away.

The cult was bigger than it seemed.

Discreet.

Permanently infiltrated.

It didn’t use violence.

It used desire.

It controlled gold.

But not as a resource.

As faith.

And faith, in this place, was the real currency.

The smell of nectar was thick.

Too sweet. Too hot.

Moisture in the air. Seed in the wind.

Eren followed the trail.

The trail led him to a clearing hidden among roots. In the center, a small artificial pond of nectar, viscous and steaming. Golden crystals sprouted from the edge, pulsing slightly, like glass hearts.

In the middle of the pond, a woman.

Or almost.

Half flower.

Half human.

Her skin was pale, almost milky. Her legs were submerged up to her ankles. Above the waist, nothing covered her breasts except partially translucent leaves that clung to her body with a more decorative than functional effect. Her areolas were visible under the veins of the plants. Her nipples were erect from the heat of the mist.

She sang.

But not with her voice.

With rhythm.

Short, broken phrases. A prayer in a fragmented language. Each word ended with a restrained moan, as if pleasure were ingrained in the text.

"Sow me with gold."

"The egg is the beginning and the end."

"Desire... is the motto of the womb."

"Spill yourself, first bond."

She spun slowly in the water. Her long hair was covered in shiny sap. On her forehead, a symbol: three intertwined circles. The same one Eren had seen on the altar.

He stood still among the leaves. He watched.

She noticed him.

She wasn’t scared.

She didn’t stop.

She smiled.

A peaceful smile. Almost orgasmic.

"Gold is born from nakedness," she said.

"Clothes... hinder fertility."

Her voice was soft but firm.

Eren didn’t answer.

The woman continued bathing, slowly. Her hands slid between her breasts, collecting drops of nectar and spreading them over her body. She touched her belly, her hips, the inside of her thighs—as if preparing the ground for a ritual he hadn’t asked to see.

But she showed it anyway.

"You didn’t come by chance," she whispered.

"Those who find the well are not guided. They are called."

Eren took a step forward.

The vegetation creaked under his feet.

[Ritual Zone: "Bath of the Primordial Bond"]

[Hostility: None]

[Interlocutor: Registered — Class B Intermediate of the Cult of the Flesh Vault]

[Function: Teaching]

The woman turned her back to him.

She kept her naked body visible.

The curve of her lower back was covered by a thin vine that wound its way to the base of her spine. The plant seemed to react to his presence—it vibrated slightly, even without wind.

"Did you see Arkana?"

Silence.

"Did she look at you?"

Nothing.

"Then you’re already part of it. Even if you don’t want to be."

Eren just watched.

He analyzed.

The water in the well contained alchemical properties. The system registered traces of fertile essence. Residues of dissolved eggs. Not enough to activate a contract. But enough to alter the consciousness of anyone who bathed there.

Plant drugs.

Symbiotic magic.

Subtle control.

"Don’t you have any questions?" she said, turning her face away.

"Everyone asks. How the eggs are born. Why they are pure. If it’s true that they contain fragments of the ’matrix’..."

She smiled again.

"But you don’t seem to want answers."

Eren finally spoke.

"I already know you’re intermediaries."

She nodded.

Calm.

"We take the eggs where they need to be."

"And who decides where?" he asked.

She raised her hands.

She spread nectar across her face.

She traced a circle on her own belly with a finger.

"The womb decides."

"Yours?"

She laughed.

"That of faith."

Eren took two more steps.

The edge of the well reacted.

Crystals trembled.

Drops jumped as if repelled by his presence.

[Warning: High Interference with Ritual Flow]

[Excessive approach may cause symbolic reaction]

He took half a step back.

"What happens if someone tries to take an egg without consent?"

She was silent.

Then he said:

"Nothing."

"But that ’nothing’... spreads."

"Like hunger."

Eren understood.

Stealing an egg was not punished with a spell.

But with absence.

Systemic negligence.

The creature turned against the system in silence.

A pattern that the system couldn’t classify.

He made a note of it.

"Are you attracted to her?" asked the woman.

Eren didn’t answer.

"Everyone is," she continued. "Even those who say they don’t want to be."

She sank into the water up to her hips.

Only her breasts remained visible.

Her skin glistened with nectar.

"Do you know what it means to be fertile in Tessára?"

Eren waited.

"It means being able to... deliver something more valuable than desire."

She slid her hand between her legs.

Slowly.

Without pretense.

"The eggs... are the contracts that the system doesn’t understand."

Her hand emerged with golden sap.

It ran through her fingers.

It dripped into the water.

"They are not resources.

They are... expressions."

Eren asked the final question.

"What is the price?"

She looked at him more firmly now.

"Sacrifice without control.

Desire without possession."

"Faith... without certainty."

He took another step back.

She noticed.

She smiled sweetly.

"You don’t believe it."

"I don’t need to," he replied.

She leaned back slightly. Her breasts were fully exposed. The liquid dripped down her curves like living oil.

"One day you will understand."

"When you can no longer calculate."

Eren turned his back.

The system flashed.

[Ritualistic Information Collected: 87%]

[New Journal Entry: The Economy of Symbolic Fertility]

[Alert: You are being watched]

He disappeared among the leaves.

The well behind him fell silent.

But the woman’s words still echoed.

"Gold is born from nakedness..."

Eren didn’t believe it.

But he recorded it.

Because even a lie... can be useful.