Mate Collecting System: The Beast Kings Are Obsessed With Me

Chapter 55: Aestra’s Blessing, Nyxara’s Curse

Selka chuckled softly as she leaned back, settling into the smooth stone of her rock once more. Nuan forced her facial muscles to relax, instantly masking her shock behind a perfectly composed, confident smile.

Over in the corner, Kael shifted his weight. His pupils narrowed into sharp, vertical slits, his protective instincts on high alert as he sensed the sudden, heavy shift in the room’s atmosphere. He kept his eyes locked on the two of them, trying to parse the unspoken words.

Selka stretched her arms over her head and let out a casual sigh. "You are exactly what you appear to be," she said. She glanced briefly at Kael, then looked right back at Nuan, her voice dropping into a low, private murmur. "We will talk about this particular matter later."

She gestured toward the bundles of leaves on the ledge. "Ask me if you have any other questions about the history before I show you how to apply the true Whiteclaw herbs."

Nuan understood instantly. This conversation was highly confidential—something even Kael, the Alpha, wasn’t allowed to know yet. Smoothly changing the subject to keep up appearances, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Alright. So, if the true Whiteclaw plant is a divine blessing from the good witch Aestra, why do the Blackclaw lookalikes exist in this jungle?"

Selka nodded, appreciating the quick pivot. "After being completely thrown away like common twigs by the good witch’s magic, the hyenas felt a great, burning humiliation. They were creatures who had successfully annoyed and terrified the giant lions and the other big cats of the open grasslands. Their massive egos were so deeply bruised that they actually entered the dense jungles for the sole purpose of taking revenge against our clan."

"It took them several months and many losses of life to track us down in the deeper parts of the woods. For them, hunting and surviving in a dense jungle where their eyes couldn’t see threats as openly as they did on the plains was an absolute nightmare."

"Every single step they took carried a hidden danger. Not only did the jungle’s apex predators pick them off one by one, but many of their people died from venomous snake bites and massive spider attacks as well."

"Their anger had risen incredibly high by the time they finally stumbled upon our ancestors," Selka continued, her voice hardening. "By then, our people were fully healthy, strong, and back on their feet. Because the good witch was no longer around the camp, the hyenas thought they finally had an easy chance to take their revenge."

"But the fools deeply mistook the reality. This jungle was our territory—every single rock, stream, and tree was perfectly carved into our heads. Our pack had populated to more than three hundred wolves by that time, and every single one had trained themselves brutally hard to withstand attacks from much greater predators."

"For our ancestors, those invading hyenas were nothing more than buzzing bugs in our territory."

"The battle was magnificent. We took down a massive number of them. They did manage to injure our people during the chaos, but the ultimate victory belonged completely to the Silver Grey clan."

"The survivors retreated into the brush—injured, broken, and mourning their lost kin. But when they realized that our pack possessed the Whiteclaw herb, which was healing our wounds at an impossible speed and dragging our people back from the brink of death, their jealousy turned into pure madness."

"They fell to their knees, crying and begging for the good witch to appear before them so they could demand a blessing of their own. But the good witch Aestra did not show up; she could sense the evil intent, the deep-seated revenge, and the hateful jealousy festering in their hearts. Instead, an entirely different entity answered their dark prayers."

"The evil witch, Nyxara."

Nuan’s eyebrows shot up. Oh, great, a classic dark reflection trope.

"Nyxara was instantly attracted to their pure hatred and desire for vengeance," Selka explained. "She granted them the Blackclaw plant. Her goal was simple after the next attack, when our people rushed out to gather the Whiteclaw to heal our wounded, we would unknowingly pick the wrong leaves. Our own caretakers would poison our warriors, causing them to die a slow, agonizing death, and the seeds of distrust against the good witch would grow rapidly in our hearts."

"Then what happened?" Nuan asked, thoroughly invested in the lore.

"Another attack happened. This time, it wasn’t a fight to the death. The hyenas merely engaged us to leave our warriors with minor, bloody injuries. Because we relied heavily on the Whiteclaw by then, they knew we would immediately go out to harvest it. And they had already spent weeks sneakily planting the Blackclaw among our sacred patches in the jungle."

"After the skirmish, they retreated. When the pack applied the fresh herbal paste, the posion entered their bodies, slowly taking effect. As our people realized they were drawing closer to death, the Alpha of that era—who was incredibly clever—spotted the minor differences in the leaf veins. He quickly went out, gathered the true Whiteclaw by looking for the silver-white lines, and forced everyone to drink a purified paste, saving the entire clan just in time."

"Later on, the good witch had a massive, catastrophic conflict with the evil witch. It is said in our oldest tales that their celestial war will finally be resolved when a specific entity appears in this world to help Aestra defeat Nyxara once and for all. And soon, they will both appear again in this very jungle."

Selka finished her story, a calm, knowing smile resting on her face.

Nuan stared at her, completely enjoying the narrative. Wow, that was a genuinely nice fairytale, she thought to herself, her inner modern skeptic taking over. It seems like among these ancient beastmen, there was actually a highly creative, philosophical thinker who came up with these elaborate bedtime stories to explain natural botanical evolution and mimicry.

"Do you have any other questions?" Selka asked, tilting her head.

"Yes. How exactly is learning this going to help me on my journey?" Nuan pointed out, leaning forward. "Didn’t you just say that the Whiteclaw herb only works if it’s applied by a member of the Silver Grey wolf clan?"

"Yes..." Selka replied smoothly. "Which is why, before you leave us, I will be granting you our clan’s sacred blood mark."

"Oh, I see..." Nuan murmured aloud.

Internally, her brain kicked into overdrive. Well, I don’t really mind getting a cool clan tattoo, but come on—this whole ’magic blood lock’ thing is clearly just an old fairytale used to keep other tribes from stealing their medical monopoly. I want to prove it right now.

"Miss Selka, before you go ahead and mark me with your clan’s blessing," Nuan said, a confident smirk spreading across her lips, "can I try applying the true herb on myself, completely on my own, without the mark? I want to see something."

Selka raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Hm? Sure."

Without a second thought, Nuan reached behind her back, willed her sharpened hunting knife straight out of her system inventory, and drew the steel edge quickly across her left palm. A neat, shallow cut split the skin, and bright red blood began to drip steadily onto the dirt floor.

"Let me check out this magic for myself then," Nuan smirked, holding her bleeding hand out toward the leaves.