It was early in the morning. Onyx, Mister Rolf, Hatchet, and Helda stood in front of the farmer’s hut, all four gazing into the distance.

  Mister Rolf was laughing aloud from happiness. Beside him, his beast Helda shared his joy with a loud, spirited moo. Onyx, too, stared with a light in his eyes, letting out a long sigh of gratitude and pride. Even Hatchet—the beast who cared for little beyond comfort and food—was looking on intently, his eyes filled with awe and curiosity.

  Before them lay a vast landscape of verdant green fields. Acres upon acres of glossy herbs swayed gently in the breeze, their lush leaves glimmering with a soft, intrinsic glow and dripping with morning dew. The sight was fresh and alluring. An aromatic, peppermint-like scent filled the air around the fields, making every breath feel refreshing.

  The Herba Mystica plants, after much work and toil, had finally matured. The four had gathered this morning to celebrate the upcoming harvest and marvel at the fruit of their labor.

  After a long bout of unrestrained laughter, Mister Rolf regained his composure. “Look, lad. Look!” he said, his eyes brimming with joy and excitement. “The Herba Mystica has grown so well, many of the plants have even borne fruit!”

  Onyx understood immediately, thanks to the old man’s teachings. When cultivated Herba Mystica reached a certain level of quality, they would produce small, bright fruits at the base of their leaves—even without flowering. These fruits were a dozen times more valuable than the herbs themselves. Not only did they hold far more potent healing properties, but they could also nullify and cure many ailments and status effects inflicted by beasts, making them a cornerstone for the highest-grade medicines and concoctions. Their value was further boosted by their rarity; only the highest-quality plants produced them, and even then, in limited quantities.

  Looking at Mister Rolf’s fields now, one would notice dots of bright red sprinkled throughout the green. At the base of many leaves grew clusters of three cherry-like fruits, gleaming like tiny jewels against the verdant foliage.

  “Oh, the realms have truly blessed me this time,” Mister Rolf remarked, his voice shaky with emotion. “This harvest is bound to be the most bountiful in all my years.” For a farmer, this was a significant accomplishment. The old man hadn’t thought he could achieve anything greater in his field, yet here he was. It was safe to say he was deeply moved.

  Onyx was also happy, filled with a sense of pride for having played a part in this success. He and his mentor shared this proud moment before Mister Rolf ended the celebrations with a spirited shout.

  “Alright, lad, enough standing around!” he yelled, his tone high and full of energy. “Let the harvest commence!”

  Onyx grinned widely and replied with burning spirit, “YES, SIR!”

  And so, the two—along with their beasts—commenced the harvest.

  The entire process took two weeks of continuous labor. They would first harvest a portion of the yield, then process it ,picking the herbs and their fruits, separating the two, drying them, and finally shipping them back to the station to be sold.

  The first batches of produce, however, were handed over to the station itself. Mister Rolf explained that he didn’t technically own the land he worked. He was entrusted with it in exchange for the right to cultivate it and was required to give a portion of the annual yield to the station—a reasonable arrangement, Onyx thought, once he understood that no one could privately own land in the outer realms. Real estate here was strictly controlled by the governing authorities.

  But it didn’t matter. Even after giving a share to the station, such a bountiful harvest was still bound to bring substantial profit.

  Once Mister Rolf’s harvest finally hit the market, it became clear just how much fortune had favored them. As of late, many other plantations had suffered severe pest infestations that damaged their yields. The culprit was none other than the accursed Abominable Sap Slug; an overpopulation of them had triggered a beast wave. This explained the large numbers Onyx had faced weeks before.

  Many had suffered—including the few other plantations specializing in Medica Mystica. This created a shortage, which in turn led to a sharp inflation in price for the high-demand plant. When Onyx and Mister Rolf entered the starving market, their stock sold out swiftly. And once people noticed the abundance and exceptional quality of Mister Rolf’s produce—the fruits, in particular—everyone scrambled to buy from him, creating quite an uproar in the local scene.

  It reached the point where all sorts of people, business fronts, and merchant groups came to Mister Rolf’s farm, haggling for the remaining stock.

  By the end of the ordeal, Mister Rolf and his farm had garnered modest fame—a fame sure to bring future prosperity.

  On the final day of the harvest, Mister Rolf loaded the last batch of produce onto Helda’s back, ready for transport to the station for the season’s final sale. He also promised Onyx that once this sale was done, his payment would be settled first thing.

  “Oh, okay,” Onyx replied, trying to seem nonchalant. In his head, however, he was already singing " Here comes the money…

  This time however, Onyx wouldn’t be accompanying Mister Rolf. The old man had given him a different assignment.

  Hatchet stood nearby with a woven bag of Medica Mystica herbs and several jars of fruit harnessed to his back. Onyx was to deliver this portion of the produce on Mister Rolf’s behalf to a friend who worked at a beast breeding facility within the station—the same friend who had gifted him Hatchet. Mister Rolf wanted to thank this friend for years of good fellowship and, knowing the herbs and fruits could aid in their work, had set a portion aside as a gift.

  Onyx was interested to meet this friend. After being given the location, he was on his way.

  Onyx and Hatchet made their way through the station with the goods. This time, they were accompanied by Tusk.

  The fat grub rested atop Hatchet’s back alongside the other goods—much to the bird’s dismay at the extra weight. Onyx suspected this was Tusk’s subtle revenge for Hatchet’s earlier attempt to eat him.

  The catalysts Tusk had been using had run out and lost effectiveness some time ago, so Onyx had decided to bring his Totem along since he had nothing better to do.

  " First thing I’m going to do once that paycheck comes is get Tusk some new catalysts ", Onyx thought as he walked.

  After a couple of hours trekking through the station, the trio reached their destination.

  The facility was located on the opposite side of the station from Mister Rolf’s farm, on the far edges but still within the walls—unlike the farm, which was on the periphery.

  As a result, the facility was more compact. Making his way inside, Onyx noted the many barn-like stone structures and various enclosures housing different kinds of beasts. He saw domesticated beasts grazing in pastures or huddled in pens, aquatic beasts in artificial ponds, and large coop-like structures housing avian species—one of which he recognized as Iron-Beak Quails.

  Onyx was surprised at first, but it made sense as he glanced at Hatchet walking beside him. The large bird looked around, his eyes shining with familiarity.

  Hatchet must have been born and bred here, he thought, patting his companion’s head, happy to learn about his origins.

  After wandering for several minutes, Onyx finally found the place he was looking for: a stone hut similar to Mister Rolf’s, though significantly larger and more comfortable.

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  This was the residence and study of Mister Rolf’s friend. The old man had said he was most likely to be found here.

  Onyx didn’t hesitate. He climbed the porch, stepped to the door, and gave three loud knocks.

  As he waited, Onyx imagined what Mister Rolf’s friend might look like—likely another old man, tempered by years, with an aura of wise reverence, as punctual and gritty as Rolf himself.

  The next moment, the hut’s door swung open, and a woman emerged, yelling and waving her arms like a child mid-tantrum.

  “Kyaaaaaah! I told you I’d do it next week—stop knocking on my door, you—!”

  She yelled as she weakly pounded Onyx’s chest with her fists.

  Onyx’s brain stopped for a second, stunned by the sheer absurdity of the scene and the stark contrast to what he’d imagined.

  Once the woman finished her outburst, she finally opened her eyes and saw Onyx standing there, stunned and silent. Realizing he wasn’t who she thought—and worse, realizing what she’d just done in front of a stranger—she, too, fell silent.

  The two stood still, gazing at each other for a long minute—Onyx with a stupefied look, the woman with one of shock and embarrassment.

  After that painfully long minute, the woman broke the stillness in a desperate attempt to save face.

  “Haha… oops… I thought you were from the station, you see…” she stammered, forcing a laugh. “I was a little frustrated—they’ve been requesting a lot from me lately. Hehe… hope I didn’t hurt you too much. Haha… haha…”

  Onyx forced an understanding smile through his petrified expression. This was officially the most awkward moment of his life.

  After a few more excruciating seconds, whatever dignity the woman had left was restored. She gave a proper greeting and introduction.

  Her name was Gabby, and she was the one in charge of this beast breeding facility.

  In terms of appearance, Miss Gabby was middle-aged but retained traces of youth. She was about the same height and build as Onyx. Her skin was softly pale, her eyes a shade of silver-blue, and her hair a shiny blonde, woven into a single braid down her back—though a few loose strands escaped at her crown. She wore a modest green dress under a leather apron and work boots. A pair of large, round glasses sat on her face—which Onyx knew were either aesthetic or served some purpose other than vision correction, as eyesight problems weren’t an issue in this day and age.

  After her introduction, Onyx finally explained who he was.

  Once Miss Gabby was informed, all her previous embarrassment seemed to vanish. “I see! So you’re Rolf’s people!” she exclaimed happily. “Haha, I’m glad to see that stubborn old goat finally relented and got some help at his farm. I’ve been telling him for years he can’t keep that pace on his own!”

  Once she’d finished, Onyx told her why Mister Rolf had sent him.

  “Oh, a gift for me? How sweet of him!” she said, her eyes turning toward Hatchet. The moment she spotted the large bird, they lit up. “And look who brought it!”

  She raced down the porch steps. Hatchet, also excited, immediately began approaching her.

  The moment the two met, Miss Gabby began rubbing Hatchet’s head affectionately. “Hello there, Hatchet! How have you been? Did you miss Mommy?” she cooed, her tone like someone speaking to a child.

  Hatchet responded with affectionate purrs and coots, clearly thrilled to see her.

  Onyx smiled. “You two are acquainted, I assume.”

  “But of course! I was the one who gifted Hatchet to Rolf,” Miss Gabby explained, still fondling the bird. “And I was also the one who bred and raised him from an egg.”

  Once finished, she lifted her gaze and finally noticed the goods on Hatchet’s back—along with someone else.

  “And who’s this little guy?” she asked, spotting the grub hitching a ride.

  “That’s Tusk. He’s my Totem beast.”

  “Oh!… A Fighter Beetle larva, no?”

  “That’s right,” Onyx replied, inwardly impressed. Identifying a beast species from its infant form in a single glance was no small feat.

  The woman reached into one of her apron pockets and pulled out a curious blue pellet. She gently offered it to Tusk, who was baring his tiny mandibles at her—clearly unhappy about being called “little.”

  But the moment the grub caught a whiff of the pellet, his attitude changed. He sniffed it carefully, took one small nibble, and then did a complete about-face. Using his grubby legs, he grabbed the pellet from her hand and began happily chewing, even allowing Miss Gabby to pet him as he did—as if to say, You know what? This lady’s alright.

  Onyx was even more taken aback. His beast was falling head over heels for a complete stranger, behaving without any command.

  He couldn’t help but ask, “What was that you gave him?”

  “Oh, just a little treat I invented,” Miss Gabby answered with a giggle. “One taste, and even the most aggressive beast will roll over for you like a lovesick puppy.”

  Onyx was even more impressed.

  After inspecting the gifts and thoroughly admiring their quality, Miss Gabby asked Onyx if he could help her carry them inside. He obliged.

  Once finished, she insisted Onyx stay for a bit—have some tea and chat. She was curious about the person the stubborn Mister Rolf had accepted as “his people,” even lending him a beast specifically gifted to him.

  Onyx saw no problem with that and accepted her offer. The two spent the next couple of hours getting acquainted. Onyx told her how he’d come to the station, how he’d met Mister Rolf, and how he’d won the old man’s favor. He also shared a little about himself.

  Hearing all this, Miss Gabby was quite impressed and even grew a little fond of Onyx. She, in turn, shared a bit about herself and her history with Mister Rolf. She’d been a struggling new researcher trying to make ends meet when she first came to the outer realms many years ago. By a stroke of fate, she’d crossed paths with Mister Rolf, who—despite hardly knowing her—had been the only one willing to support her research, providing both finances and resources to kick-start her career. Thanks to that initial support, she’d proven her worth around the station and was eventually put in charge of this breeding facility, where she could further pursue her passion for studying beasts. In other words, Mister Rolf had been her first benefactor, and the two had been dear friends ever since.

  The two bonded instantly over their shared connection to the old farmer. It wasn’t long before Miss Gabby was showing Onyx around her workplace.

  As they toured the facility, she explained its core purpose , which is to breed and raise beasts, of course, but also to research and develop the methodologies behind it. Beast Catalysers relied on catalysts to develop their beasts, making it crucial to understand which catalysts to use, how, and on what. Facilities like this one worked to develop those answers. Many of the most widespread and effective beast-nurturing methods and catalyst applications had been developed in such places.

  Onyx listened in awe, realizing that much of what he’d learned in his academy curriculum had originated from facilities just like this.

  As Miss Gabby showed him the various buildings, she stopped at one particular storage warehouse and retrieved an item from its shelves.

  She lifted—with some effort—a round stone the size of a cheese wheel. It had a silvery-dark color and a rough texture. After catching her breath, she placed it before Onyx and the group.

  “This stone,” she began, “is a new catalyst I’ve been researching. Long dismissed as just a peculiar rock, I was able to discover that it possesses a special property that classifies it as a catalyst. I call it Dulless Wheatstone.”

  Onyx listened with great intrigue. It wasn’t every day one was introduced to a newly discovered catalyst.

  “As the name suggests, it can be used as a regular whetstone to sharpen inanimate objects. Yet, more interestingly, this use extends to living beings as well. When a beast sharpens, say, its claws on this stone, said claws are imbued with an unusual, permanent sharpness—one that lasts no matter how much the claws grow or wear down.”

  Onyx was awed by the strange effect.

  Miss Gabby, pleased with his reaction, added, “Care for a demonstration?”

  “Sure.”

  She turned to Hatchet and called him over gently. The beast obeyed immediately—making Onyx quietly question who his real master was at the moment.

  Once Hatchet was before her, Miss Gabby had him sharpen his axe-like beak against the round slab.

  Loud, sharp shinks rang out with each stroke.

  After several passes, she signaled him to stop. When the large bird lifted his head, everyone was met with the sight of Hatchet’s beak now gleaming with a newfound, deadly light .

  Sharp was the only word for it.

  Hatchet’s already weaponized beak now looked even deadlier. The large bird swung his head a few times, testing his new edge. The air made crisp, slashing sounds as it parted around the sharpened beak. Hatchet seemed quite pleased as so .

  Both Onyx and Tusk were awed by the transformation. Onyx’s eyes shifted subtly as he activated his Omnichip, checking Hatchet’s status. Amd as he’d guessed, the beast’s Growth Level had increased—by 3%, to be precise.

  Tusk, however, was strangely transfixed by this sight. Despite the grudge and Thier bad first impression, the little grub couldn’t help but stare at Hatchet’s beak with glowing eyes. He seemed particularly attracted to the sharp aura it now exuded, as if wishing he could have such a thing for himself.

  After a few more moments of marveling, Onyx couldn’t contain the urge to ask Miss Gabby about catalysts—specifically, the choices he’d made for Tusk.

  Miss Gabby didn’t mind his inquiry. After listening to Onyx’s choices and reasoning, she nodded. “I think your catalyst selections are excellent. I can honestly say I wouldn’t have chosen better myself.”

  Onyx sighed with inward relief, quite assured that his decisions had received an expert’s approval.

  “However,” Miss Gabby suddenly declared, catching him off guard. She added, “I feel that your choices are solely governed by fulfilling short-term requirements.”

  Onyx’s focus sharpened instantly.

  “I can recognize a pattern in the catalysts you used,” she continued. “They’re designed to help Tusk accumulate the maximum amount of ‘mass’ before his metamorphosis. It’s like how an athlete bulks before cutting to maximize muscle gain. And while you’re not wrong—that is the natural process for his species—as a researcher and a Catalyser, I must warn you against focusing entirely on a beast’s current state of development, instead of making preemptive choices for its future.”

  She leaned forward, her silver-blue eyes serious behind her glasses. “In simpler words: you’re helping your beast accumulate mass so it can grow big and strong once it metamorphoses. But what about after that happens? Do you think bulk is all your beast will need? What about the quality of his future carapace? The durability of his wings? The strength of his vital organs? All of those are factors worth considering now. If you don’t address them before your beast reaches maturity, you’ll be wasting a precious opportunity. I’m sure you know youth is the most critical time for a beast’s foundation.”

  Onyx was frozen in place by her speech. He’d thought he was doing a good job cultivating Tusk, but now he saw how simplistic and shallow his approach had been. He’d been feeding a body, not building a being.

  Miss Gabby’s expression softened. “But don’t worry. Your beast hasn’t undergone metamorphosis yet. There’s still time to do it right. For the next catalysts, I’d recommend Silver-Pike Wheat, Cast-Iron Mud, Jiva Seed Extract, and…” She went on to list several more.

  Onyx committed each one to memory, asking questions where needed. Receiving guidance from such an expert was a rare and valuable opportunity; most people had to pay premium fees for such professional consultations.

  ---

  While the two were deep in discussion, Tusk was on the move. Unnoticed, he had crawled over to the Dull-Edge Wheatstone, eyeing it with great interest. He’d been curious about the stone ever since he saw what it did for Hatchet.

  The little grub brought his head close and gently filed his tiny mandibles against the rough surface. After a few experimental swipes, he stopped to inspect them.

  His bead-like eyes lit up. His mandibles now looked sharper and carried a faint, gleaming sharpness, similar to Hatchet’s.

  Excited, Tusk continued filing with quiet diligence.

  ---

  Miss Gabby concluded her advice with , “Most people assume proper catalyst use is about quick, visible results. That isn’t true. One shouldn’t be afraid to invest in catalysts for their beasts, even if the benefits aren’t immediate. What separates the great Beast Catalysers from the mediocre ones is the ability to strategically plan for the long term.”

  Onyx voiced his understanding, vowing to keep that in mind. He then turned around and, without noticing what his beast had been up to, scooped Tusk away from the stone.

  The grub emitted a dismayed chitter at being separated from his precious stone, but Onyx's mind was too preoccupied to notice. He hurriedly prepared Hatchet to leave. Brimming with new insight and excitement, he wanted to head to the market to hunt for the recommended catalysts right away.

  Before he left, he bid an earnest farewell to Miss Gabby.

  “You’re welcome to visit the facility anytime,” she told him warmly. “And if you wish, you can come observe my work. We can discuss beasts further.”

  Onyx happily accepted her offer. Then, with his two companions in tow—one newly sharpened, the other secretly so—he set off, his mind already racing toward the market and the future he would build for Tusk.