Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 67: Bone Dust

I push deeper into the forest, running the exact same play on a loop. I wait for a defenseless animal to fail its camouflage, wait for the predator to strike, and then I butcher the predator.

Two for one.

We put down five monsters and bag five prey animals as a bonus. The predators are all the same Coral Wivers. Seeing this many clustered together means one of two things: this is their primary hunting ground, or we are walking right into a nest.

No Echo Fragments from any of them. Five clean kills. Five ordinary monsters and animals.

I tell myself to stop checking. I tell myself it was a one-time anomaly, a glitch in the system, and that the Gatekeeper was an isolated case.

But I don’t believe a single word of it.

After the fifth kill, I run the math. Five monsters, five animals.

250 Scales total.

I divide the haul, tossing 40 Scales to each of the other five and pocketing the remaining 50 for myself.

[Scales: 415 -> 465]

As I hand the last batch of Scales to Lola, a wave of heavy dizziness hits me. The edges of my vision blur, and the world tilts slightly.

I pull up my HUD.

[OXI: 120/1,600]

"Alright, everyone," I announce, steadying my breathing. "Fifteen-minute break."

I sit down on a damp root and watch Oliver finish butchering the carcasses. He efficiently separates the meat, the bioluminescent extract, and the leather into neat piles. He looks up, wiping sweat from his brow.

"We have enough meat," he says. "And the Scales should keep us breathing for a while."

I give him a single nod. My eyes drift past the meat to the pile of discarded, bloody bones.

Useless to them. A goldmine for me.

I pull five Scales from my inventory. "Everyone, pitch in five Scales. Match mine."

[Scales: 465 -> 460]

They look at me like I’m a warlord demanding tribute from peasants who already gave everything they had.

"You’ll thank me later... now get moving."

Faster, they give me a total of thirty.

I look back at the ex-farmer. "Oliver. Toss me one of those thick, hard leg bones. Scrape it as clean of meat as you can. And toss me your favorite skinning knife while you’re at it."

He shoots me a highly suspicious look, but he complies. He lobs the bone and the knife through the air. I catch them both effortlessly.

"Is Uncle Den gonna do voodoo again?" Lola asks, tilting her head.

What do you think I am, a witch doctor?

I don’t say a word. I just let a smirk cross my face.

I shrug out of my leather jacket and toss it flat onto the ground.

Rhayne shifts her weight, looking slightly awkward at the sudden shedding of clothing, but I ignore her.

I sit cross-legged and start aggressively scraping the bone with the dagger directly over the leather, shaving off fine bone dust and sharp splinters.

I glance up. Every single one of them is staring at me blankly, completely lost.

Once I have a decent pile of dust and splinters, I reach over and hack off a section of hollow wood I spotted earlier—a plant that closely resembles thick, alien bamboo.

I use it as a makeshift flask, sweeping the bone dust and splinters inside. I crush the thirty Scales in my fist and drop the powder into the mix.

Finally, I uncap a bottle of Lunaria juice and pour it straight in.

This is the real OXI drop; the one with water is just a cheap version.

In my past life, I stumbled onto this recipe by accident during a famine in the Trench. A dying alchemist traded it to me for a clean death. I gave him both. The recipe was worth more than his life, and we both knew it. That’s the economy of the Deep.

Knowledge outlives the people who carry it.

I cap the bamboo and shake it violently. The chemical reaction inside hisses and pops. It sounds volatile, active, and deeply dangerous.

If a cheap ’OXI drop’ is good with old bones and stale water, they have no idea what’s coming with fresh marrow and raw Lunaria.

I pop the cap and take a hit.

It burns like liquid embers straight up my sinuses. An uncontrollable shiver violently wrecks my entire body. I squeeze my eyes shut in sheer agony and let out a harsh, whispering yell.

"Ahhh, shit! That’s fucking good! Tastes like coming back from the dead at your ex-mother-in-law’s funeral!"

I hold the makeshift flask out to Oliver. He lets out a nervous laugh, grabs it, and takes a swig.

The WaterStrand ex-farmer goes rigid. His eyes roll back into his skull, and he tips straight backward like a felled tree. I snatch the bamboo flask out of the air right before he hits the dirt.

All the grass around him flares up like a flashlight.

I pass the flask around. Everyone takes a hit until the container is bone dry.

All the reactions are almost the same. Except for Lola.

"I feel like I’m about to sneeze my brain out... It’s good," she says.

Oliver groans, pushing himself up from the ground. He stares down at his trembling hands in absolute disbelief. "My OXI tank... it’s completely full. From one sip."

I look him dead in the eye.

"If we make it out of here alive, I want to form a sworn Oathmark contract with you. You’re a former farmer. You know the logistics. We are going to mass-produce this and sell it."

Oliver’s face lights up. He accidentally lets out an excited, booming yell.

"Woo!"

A completely different sound answers him.

A massive, guttural roar vibrates through the dense trees, echoing so deeply it rattles our ribcages. It’s a sound I haven’t cataloged yet.

A sound I don’t even recognize.

I turn back to Oliver, my voice dropping to pure ice.

"I said if we make it out alive, goddamn."

Then the ground shook violently, like an earthquake, but just briefly enough for me to recognize a pattern.

"A quake?" Rhayne asks me.

"It wasn’t a quake... it was a footstep."