What the Tiger Leaves Behind (3)
The heart is the most vital organ in any beast.
You can survive the loss of a kidney, and you can even cling to life if an entire lung is blown away, so long as your heart remains intact. But if that pump fails—even across a localized patch—your chances of survival plummet toward zero. Blood is the fuel of every living organ, and the heart is its sole engine. Without a steady supply of blood, even the brain, master of all thought and reason, is reduced to a useless lump of gelatinous mush.
Was that why blood had kept welling up despite the immense quantity already drained? Because the heart had never stopped beating?
Every other organ, the brain included, had long since ceased functioning. Yet here it was, pulsing as if it alone possessed life.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
“……”
A mass of muscle larger than my own head was vigorously flexing its vitality. Though its master and every companion vessel had withered into stillness, it boasted stubborn, defiant vigor.
What in the absolute hell is going on here?
It felt as though my basic common sense was being violently dismantled. The tiger's head had been severed hours ago, yet its heart was still pounding away? And this was at least six hours after its death, at the bare minimum. Was this sabertooth tiger some kind of zombie instead of an ordinary beast? No, even zombies required a walking corpse to be called undead. There was no physical condition under heaven that should allow an isolated heart to pump like this, yet it throbbed with terrifying vitality. My mind spun in a daze.
F-First, let's clear out the rest of the innards.
Rigor mortis… maybe it was something like that. That was how I tried to rationalize it. Of course, common sense reminded me that rigor mortis typically only locked skeletal muscles, but I told that nagging voice to shut up. This was a realm where the laws of Earth had no sway. Butchering came first; once the chores were finished, I could sort out my thoughts.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
Somehow, I managed to scoop out the rest of the entrails, leaving only the heart behind. I wrestled with whether to cut it free or leave it intact, but in the end, I decided to sever it. The connecting arteries and veins were absurdly tough, resisting even my aura-infused dagger. To make matters worse, dark blood squirted out in stubborn spurts every time the blade bit through, turning the task into an infuriating headache.
“Phew.”
Only after detaching the massive organ did I finally catch my breath. I cupped the heart—far bulkier than my own head—in both hands. Even with all surrounding vasculature completely torn away, it convulsed against my palms with frightening force.
Is this even possible? Can a heart truly beat entirely on its own?
Swallowing my bewilderment, I carefully transported it across the campsite. I set it down inside the wooden crate I had previously used to store the Golden Mushroom. Because the organ was so gigantic, even that roomy chest seemed cramped.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
With every violent contraction, the wooden lid rattled against its rim.
Showing no inclination to slow down, the heart thumped on. I stared at the shuddering crate with deeply conflicted emotions before forcing myself to turn away.
One step at a time. Let's finish the immediate work.
I still had to break down the rest of the carcass and haul the waste off to the river. If the heart was still pumping by the time I finished… well, I'd cross that bridge when I got there. I could always consult the Gallery.
I thoroughly rinsed the hollow cavity of the sabertooth's ribcage with clean water. Then, following the butchering guides shared by the forum, I broke the carcass down into distinct primal cuts. Just in case, I scrutinized every portion for signs of rot or discoloration, but found nothing amiss.
Do I… really have no choice but to smoke it?
Looking over the pristine mounds of meat, I fell into deep deliberation. Previously, I had refrained from smoking meat out of sheer terror that apex predators would catch the scent of fat over open flames. But throwing away such an astronomical mountain of fresh meat was an equally brainless choice. Should I gamble on an uncertain hazard tomorrow, or surrender guaranteed sustenance for immediate comfort? Even if I discarded the toughest, stringiest portions, the remaining yield was staggering.
…Yeah. Let's smoke it. When you get down to it, starvation is the real killer out here.
Fighting the sabertooth had taught me a valuable lesson: wild beasts could be fought and killed. But famine? Could I outlast starvation once winter or drought settled in? While I possessed Inedia Pills for emergency rations, they had effectively become Ppareumbo's daily staple. Factoring in the lingering dread that the Gallery connection might vanish without warning, preserving this meat was unquestionably the right move.
I should ask the forum first.
Perhaps someone knew a preservation technique I hadn't thought of. Before the meat had a chance to spoil any further, I opened the interface and posted a thread.
I'm butchering a tiger right now and ended up with a massive pile of meat. I really want to store it, but smoking is the only method I know.
Does anyone happen to know another way?
Whatever jokes the others cracked, Starlight Princess's advice was information I could rely on with my life.
Before proceeding, I opened the Auction House and purchased a massive quantity of coarse rock salt. It cost a pretty penny, but when weighed against tons of fresh meat, it was an investment I gladly shouldered.
I should pack the salted meat into large earthenware crocks.
As luck would have it, the Auction House had large earthenware jars that matched my exact specifications. I bought five reasonably sized jars; layering the tiger meat with salt inside them ought to do the trick.
I didn't toss the cuts in whole. To ensure the salt coated every surface evenly, I sliced the meat into manageable, palm-sized slabs. It was backbreaking, repetitive labor, but for the sake of long-term preservation, I endured every second without complaint.
Trim away the excess fat, too.
Slashing, trimming, and rubbing, I worked steadily until the first jar was packed brimful with salted crimson flesh. The remaining jars quickly followed suit, each stuffed to capacity with slabs thoroughly crusted in coarse white granules.
A heavy sigh of relief escaped my chest. If Starlight Princess's calculations held true, the rate of decomposition would be slowed to a crawl. All that remained was lugging the heavy crocks into the cooler, shaded depths of the cave.
I'll set up the smoking rack after I dispose of the scraps.
Wiping away the sweat dripping into my eyes, I glanced toward the wooden chest in the corner. The crate was still rocking faintly from side to side. It was still pumping.
“Unbelievable…”
I was so dumbfounded that I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This was easily the most absurd sight I'd witnessed since the Golden Mushroom sprouted limbs and sprinted into the woods. At this rate, who was to say this damn heart wouldn't grow legs and scamper off, too?
I muttered the dark joke under my breath, only to let out a hollow chuckle when a shudder went down my spine at the thought that it might actually happen.
“Ppareumbo. Hop onto my back. Time to go dump the trash.”
“……”
It was time to empty the heavy iron drum brimming with entrails, dark offal, and congealed blood. The drum was bulky and immensely heavy, making it awkward to carry, but I had prepared a solution beforehand. Using surplus heavy rope bought from the Auction House, I lashed the drum into an improvised harness, rigging it so I could hoist the entire barrel onto my back like an oversized rucksack.
“Can you hang onto my neck?”
“……”
Instead of piggybacking behind me, the Fast Tree Sloth calmly opted to ride atop my shoulders like a toddler on a parade float.
It was slightly—no, agonizingly—uncomfortable, but I gritted my teeth, telling myself I only needed to endure the short march to the river. The distance wasn't far anyway, and if an unexpected predator ambushed us, having Ppareumbo positioned high on my shoulders meant he could react instantly.
Trudging one heavy step after another under the combined weight, I finally broke through the tree line and arrived at the familiar gravel bank.
Splash! Splash!
“Oh! Look at that!”
The fish trap submerged yesterday had netted quite a generous harvest—three massive fish thrashed inside the mesh. They were so enormous that just three of them completely crowded the chamber.
Smiling with deep satisfaction, I unslung the iron drum and dumped the sloshing mess of blood and entrails straight into the rushing water. It felt like illegal dumping, but this was organic biomass, not industrial runoff, so the river ecosystem would surely forgive me.
Whoosh-sh-sh-sh—churn!
The instant the blood and gore hit the surface, an astonishing swarm of aquatic beasts surged from the depths. So dense was the frenzy of scales, fins, and snapping jaws that one could have literally crossed the river on dry feet simply by stepping along their thrashing backs.
Terrified that a rogue tooth or violent tail whip might clip me, I hurriedly emptied the last dregs and scrambled back onto higher ground. If I slipped in there, they would strip my bones clean in seconds.
Just how many fish are in this river…?
Now I understood why the trap caught prey every single day. The water was simply teeming with them. The rapids were treacherous, but beneath that churning froth lived an ecosystem far more vibrant and terrifying than I had ever imagined.
I'll pull the trap out later.
With tasks still piling up back at the campsite, I postponed hauling the catch. Since they were securely trapped behind the funnel entrance, they weren't going anywhere.
Having disposed of the refuse, I marched back up the slope to the cave camp.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
“……”
Even after my trek to the river and back, the crate was still rattling. It left me utterly speechless.
At the same time, the realization fully crystallized: this heart held some extraordinary, supernatural power. Since I had no clue what that power was, my only recourse was to crowd-source the answer. I brought up the interface and typed out a new post.
I killed a sabertooth tiger and its heart is still beating.
It's still thumping away even after I completely butchered the carcass. If you don't believe me, I can upload a clip.
Is this scientifically or magically possible? I'm genuinely asking because I have no idea what's going on.
After that brief bout of chaos, I closed the screen. Dissecting the organ seemed the wisest course of action, just as Allfather had urged. Even if the chambers turned out to be completely empty, there was nothing to lose. It wasn't as if a piece of dead meat could harm me.
I reached into the wooden crate and lifted the heart with both hands. The moment my fingers sank into the dense, fibrous tissue, its pounding rhythm seemed to quicken in agitation.
Blood might splatter everywhere, so I'd better change first.
I swapped out my cleaner clothes for the sports jersey I had demoted to rough butchering overalls. Then, carrying the heavy organ to a wide, flat slab of stone outside the cave, I set it down and watched it intently.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
Was there truly something concealed within, as Allfather theorized? If so, was it an Inner Core? The likelihood was high.
I gripped the hunting dagger I had used for field dressing. My resolve was set. Whatever rested within those thick walls, I was slicing it open. It wasn't going to bite me.
Jabbb—
Are you kidding me? Even the heart won't take a blade now?
No matter how firmly I pressed and sawed, the steel couldn't leave so much as a hairline scratch on the leathery muscle. If anything, the heart thumped with redoubled fury, as though issuing a clear warning not to violate it any further.
Naturally, that stubborn resistance only stoked my defiance. Gritting my teeth, I channeled aura down the hilt and into the blade. It might have been my imagination, but manifesting the luminous energy felt noticeably smoother and more instinctual than yesterday.
No matter how tough your hide was in life, a heart is still just meat.
I pressed the aura-shrouded edge firmly against the crest of the ventricle.
Vrrrroooom!
“Huh?”
Without warning, the heart expanded dramatically, swelling as if consumed by blind rage. It wasn't just puffing up—thick, corded vessels bulged outward like twisting serpents across its dark surface.
An intense alarm screamed through my instincts.
Panic took the wheel. I instantly dropped the dagger and hurled my body backward into a frantic retreat.
A split second later, the bloated heart shuddered violently—
KABOOOOOM!
A blinding flash of azure brilliance detonated, unleashing a concussive shockwave that tore through the air.
Staring straight into the expanding blast of blue light, a single thought echoed through my mind:
You have got to be fucking kidding me.