The Primal Hunter Chapter 1300 - Sometimes Better Safe Than Sorry

Jake remained standing in bewilderment, holding the empty health potion vial in his grip. The Shaman and four additional Venusians gaped at the vacant bottle in total astonishment, as though they refused to accept Jake's recent deed. It was akin to him torching a priceless natural wonder without any good cause.

Jake gestured toward the bottle, cocking his head slightly. “You mean this? The potion?”

True bafflement gripped him over what the blasted frog was going on about. At least for an instant.

Then it hit Jake—he should have thought of this earlier. Everything he had observed in this Minor World pointed to no enlightened races present, only monsters dwelling within. Alchemy existed as a profession, and though certain monsters could take it up, it wasn't instinctive for them. Rather, it was an acquired skill, with most monster alchemists across the multiverse hailing from the Order of the Malefic Viper.

Villy had required the First Sage's guidance to master alchemy as a monster, since he lacked access to the standard profession skills enabling it. That assistance eventually birthed Sagacity of the Malefic Viper, a boon often granted in variants to Order members.

Considering this backdrop, the Venusians' unfamiliarity with genuine alchemy came as no shock. Yet they weren't without restorative goods. The multiverse brimmed with natural treasures that boosted recovery speeds or mimicked healing potions outright. Admittedly, crafted healing potions surpassed them, and alchemists could refine these treasures into superior concoctions, making direct use wasteful—but monsters frequently consumed such raw items anyway.

However... this was Venus. A realm saturated in poisons and teeming with undead, judging by appearances.

Even supposing some beings here could produce potion-esque substances, sourcing materials would prove impossible. For alchemy, Jake required herbs, and while Venus overflowed with flora, almost every plant was toxic. Life affinity carriers were scarce, and the sole spot radiating robust vitality that Jake had encountered was the fittingly titled Life Pool in the Venusian settlement. One might cultivate herbs there, yet its core role lay in fostering the frog folk's offspring, and repurposing it as a herb garden could sap its essence, shortchanging the Venusians.

This pervasive scarcity of life energy undoubtedly rendered natural healing treasures far less common than elsewhere in the multiverse. Thus, their perception of Jake's healing potion as a scarce gem—and his offhand use as utter squandering—made perfect sense. The Shaman's following remark solidified Jake's suspicions, as the frog kept eyeing the drained bottle in dismay.

“Such a potent life treasure,” he murmured, glancing also at Jake’s leg, now nearly wholly mended—a result partly owed to Blood of the Malefic Viper amplifying potion potency.

“Am I right to assume you obtained that treasure from beyond the Boundary?” the Shaman inquired, with Jake already grasping the Venusian's real curiosity.

“I did,” Jake replied, uncertain how to steer this discussion. Normally, he'd eagerly tell the frog he'd brewed the potion himself and carried a solid supply in his spatial storage, but this was a Minor World in the ninety-third universe. Inhabited by far mightier entities unbound by multiversal conventions.

Revealing his mass-production capability might land him imprisoned by multiple A-grades eager to turn him into a personal potion mill. Or worse, compel him to instruct others in alchemy.

Jake trusted the Venusians wouldn't stoop that low, yet he refrained from oversharing unless necessary. His current worth stemmed from linking them to the outer realms, so harming him jeopardized that tie. No need for them to see him as bearing even greater value.

Eventually, he'd disclose his profession and perhaps request Villy to establish a frog alchemy school or similar, but not while isolated and ignorant of Venusian customs. Caution often trumped boldness.

“Dare I ask how you obtained it?” the Shaman pressed gravely.

“It was created by a human,” Jake stated, figuring he couldn't conceal even that. The bottled potion screamed craftsmanship, and if locals could mimic it remotely, they'd deduce its origin. So he shared partial truth, sparing the full tale.

The Shaman inquired, his already wide eyes stretching even further open. “Your kind is capable of creating such a thing? Is it a racial skill or something only certain variants are capable of? If so, how common are those variants?”

“It’s something only some can do, so yeah, like variants,” Jake nodded, deeming it not too far off to describe it that way. True, every human could be seen as a “variant” unless two shared the identical class and profession combo, but no need to mention that. “As for rarity, I’d call it pretty uncommon? Humans branch into a vast array of specializations, and brewing potions like the one I drank is merely one path among countless others.”

“I see,” the Shaman murmured, appearing somewhat disappointed. “Do you have any more? I only want to examine one, and I swear you’ll get it returned intact afterward.”

“Sure, take one—no need to return it. Out in the wider world, these are commonplace,” Jake replied, pulling out another health potion and passing it over. The Shaman accepted it like a priceless relic had been bestowed upon him.

“Really? I can keep it?” the Shaman questioned, stunned.

“Yeah, and if you’d like extras, I can spare a couple. But I need to hold onto some for personal use. As you witnessed, they excel at swiftly mending wounds,” Jake clarified with a grin.

Evidently, the Shaman harbored no doubts about Jake crafting the potions himself—which made sense, given his ignorance of enlightened races.

By instinct, monsters leaned toward extreme specialization. From the Shaman’s viewpoint, it’d seem illogical for Jake to excel in combat prowess while also producing treasures like potions.

The Shaman clutched the potion, channeling an obscure magic that eluded Jake’s perception entirely. Fascinated, Jake observed as the Shaman nodded in wonder moments later, his spell dissipating before he turned back to Jake.

“A marvelous creation, brimming with vital energy. Without your word, I’d struggle to accept it was handmade rather than system-forged. It demands an extraordinary skill or suite of skills to craft something so flawlessly designed,” the Shaman remarked, revealing sharp analytical prowess.

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His assessment hit the mark perfectly. Potions mirrored system-made items closely, laced with all sorts of system intricacies—after all, their potency defied normal logic. That explained Villy’s early struggles in potion-making.

“On your offer of more, let’s hold off until we’re back at the village and have spoken with the Oracle. Should your people supply these reliably, they’d undoubtedly spark a thriving trade alliance,” the Shaman stated formally.

“I’m confident we can work it out,” Jake agreed with a nod, spotting no obstacles. From his glimpses of this Minor World, it promised abundant resources to trade back to Earth. Such realms often hid multiversal treasures of great worth.

“Excellent,” the Shaman beamed happily. “I recommend rushing to the village to address this vital matter. Yet I sense you’d turn down that idea outright.”

“You’re right, I would,” Jake affirmed, gazing toward the death-choked expanse stretching to the horizon. “We’ll return after I take down a few more Arachnecs.”

“Very well, let’s proceed,” the Shaman consented. “Maybe I’ll demonstrate how Venusians handle these undead foes too.”

“Now that’d be entertaining to watch,” Jake grinned, truly eager to witness the Shaman’s full power. He outshone his companions by a wide margin and wielded unfamiliar magic, so seeing him unleash in battle promised excitement—especially knowing he’d restrained himself against the Boglord, prioritizing capture over kill.

“I wouldn’t label this ‘fun,’ though I get why you do,” the Shaman sighed resignedly. “I do take some satisfaction in Arachnec deaths, yet the act of bringing them about holds no thrill for me—like it does for you.”

“Too bad, but if dead Arachnecs please you, get ready for a show,” Jake laughed lightly.

Through their exchange, Jake had nearly fully regenerated, and with no foes close by, he’d reach peak condition en route to his next hunt.

Accompanied by his unenthusiastic Venusian companions, Jake ventured deeper into Arachnec lands to render the undead utterly lifeless. He hoped to avoid any slip of the tongue that might turn the frogs hostile from their current amicability, thereby clinging to his reputation as the ultimate diplomat ever to set foot in this Minor World.

As Jake relished bonding with the frogs, the wider multiverse buzzed with final setups for the opening phase of the Seat of the Exalted Prima event.

Multiverse-wide, squads gathered to storm the World Wonder as one, while factions scrambled to dominate galaxies by fielding their elite Administrators. Plenty of uncertainty swirled around the system event's workings, but bets abounded that the Administrator Test would let even tag-along companions—not originally flagged as Administrator Candidates—climb the ranks.

Should that fail, they'd just prop up a figurehead Administrator. In the cosmic picture, the exact identity of each galaxy's Administrator hardly signified. Far weightier stakes loomed beyond.

True prizes awaited in the clash of Administrators. Participants would surely reap personal boons, yet factions fixated more on the World Wonder prize. Scant few expected B-grades to seize total command of it, but partial sway or leverage seemed plausible from this event. Knowledge gaps spurred caution—no top faction dared miss out, sensing this World Wonder demanded attention.

Securing sway promised no simple feat.

The nature of the Administrators' showdown remained a mystery, though most figured combat loomed large, as with nearly every system event. Direct brawls between Administrators weren't a given. Most factions prayed against it. Pitting against the Malefic Viper's Chosen—who'd dominated his peers in Nevermore—courted doom for virtually all rivals. Few dared claim they could match him... save maybe a handful.

--

A lone figure perched atop a vibrant green mountain summit, gazing down at the realm below with hands clasped behind him. His aura lay perfectly sealed, betraying no energy trace, while a serene expression graced his features. He donned a plain robe exposing one side of his chest, his scalp smoothly shaven. Youthful in appearance, like early twenties, the system's arrival blurred true age guesses. Still, as a native of the fresh universe, his integration-era age offered clues.

His eyes stayed shut until a subtle energy stir behind prompted him to pivot and welcome the arrival. Hands cupped, he bowed deeply. “I greet the Chosen of the Lifesoul Daolord.”

“Is there truly a need for such ceremony?” Eron replied with a grin, returning the bow to the fellow B-grade despite his protest.

“My friend, I would never lose an opportunity to pay you respect,” the young man chuckled softly. “Now, how are your preparations going?”

“They are done, and my party members have been selected,” Eron confirmed, knowing full well that combat scenarios demanded real allies. Fighting wasn't his forte, nor had it ever appealed.

“That’s good,” the young man nodded. “I wish you prosperity.”

“Thank you,” Eron responded evenly before cutting to his visit's purpose. “I came to inform you that your assistants for the upcoming event have been selected, should it become relevant.”

“Is that truly necessary?” the young man sighed.

“Not my call,” Eron shrugged. “This is at the insistence of the higher-ups. They want to ensure you have the best possible circumstances should the event involve battle. I, too, hope it will not be necessary, but if it does, who else would you expect to face people like the Cerulean Demon Prince, Wintermaul, or any of those other so-called geniuses?”

The young monk sighed again, eyes drifting to the tranquil valley below as he savored the natural peace. “I hope it doesn’t come down to needless conflict. Ideally, this World Wonder is one to be shared, not conquered.”

“That’s rarely how the system operates,” Eron shook his head, secretly aligning with the sentiment. “Alas, you must ready yourself should you face any of them. Speaking of, here.”

Eron flicked his hand, sending a jade slip gliding toward the monk, who snatched it mid-turn. A quick energy pulse confirmed its contents, earning a nod.

“There are quite a few prominent individuals here. Some hail from your homeworld,” the monk remarked. “Among them is the Chosen of the Malefic Viper. Was he the one who slew the being who called himself the Celestial Child?”

“That’s right,” Eron confirmed with a nod. Jake’s name sat proudly at the summit of the compiled list, featuring those to keep a sharp eye on during the forthcoming system event.

“Understood,” the monk sighed softly. “I hope Ell’Hakan ultimately found peace. He was a tormented soul, yet his demise was undoubtedly required.”

“Not many grieve his passing,” Eron concurred, eyeing the young man closely. “Though that slip holds plenty of details, let me share my own cautions as well. Jake has proven elusive to measure repeatedly in the past, so no report can completely reveal his true nature to you. Stay vigilant.”

A faint smile crossed the monk’s face as he gazed down at the slip, his expression laced with inner conflict. “I hold no wish to clash with him, or any other name on this roster.”

“But you’ll likely face that inevitability,” Eron replied, shaking his head. “I must handle my own duties now. Absorb this intel thoroughly and gear up properly.”

“Gratitude for your coming, old friend,” the monk expressed with a gentle smile, lifting his gaze and cupping his hands anew. “Here’s to crossing paths again before long.”

“Indeed,” Eron agreed with a nod, pivoting to depart and making his way back down the mountain. In his wake, the monk shifted his sight to the distant horizon once more, then shut his eyes to meditate.

Doubts lingered in Eron’s mind about this monk destined to guide the sect’s current generation. Pitting him against Jake, the Sword Saint, Sylphie, Vesperia, the Forest King, Carmen, and countless others—plus the powerful factions supporting them—was hard to fathom. Jake stood out especially, perpetually shattering his boundaries when cornered. He invariably delved further to seize greater strength and emerge triumphant. His spot atop the watchlist for the looming event was richly deserved.

However... on the flip side. Eron’s generation had yet to witness the full prowess of the Eastbound Monk.