Ashley walked to the southern part of the city, arriving at a wide boulevard adjacent to Museum Diagonal Street.
This was Nabris Artisan Street, a hub for all sorts of workshops and skilled artisans.
Half a month earlier, a fire had broken out on the street, and black residues still bubbled in the roadside puddles. The air seemed to carry the lingering scent of charred matter.
To onlookers, a massive black monster trailed obediently behind a tiny loli who only reached its waist, drawing sidelong glances from passersby.
“What kind of cadaver is that?”
“Looks like a Shriek Devil Crow—a supernatural creature!”
“Wow, first time seeing one. The oppressive presence is intense!”
“That loli must be some big shot’s daughter, right? So extravagant, walking around with something like that.”
“Jealous much?”
“Did I say something wrong? A cadaver of this level could support a ten-person field team’s operations, and it’s one of the rare ones with flight capabilities. Yet here it is, serving as a pet for a little girl who still smells of milk…”
Serving as a pet for who?
Ah, speaking of me, huh.
Ashley finally caught on and chuckled.
The passersby’s words reminded her that beyond its combat prowess, the Demon Crow’s flight capabilities were equally outstanding. Reconnaissance, rescue, patrol, transport… it combined the functions of a heavy helicopter and a fighter jet into one strategic aircraft. Most ridiculously, it featured all-terrain takeoff and landing plus all-weather adaptability—whether on sheer mountain cliffs or in dense jungles, amid gale-force winds or thick cloud cover, nothing hampered its mobility.
Ashley’s purpose on Artisan Street was to head to the Vehicle Registry Office at the end of the road and get a license plate for the Great Raven.
This license served as proof of ownership; if someone stole the Great Raven, she could report it and have the thief apprehended.
The staff extracted some biological tissue from the Shriek Devil Crow and registered the owner as “Ashley Jenkins.”
Fountain City Hall classified cadavers as vehicles, placing them under the Vehicle Registry Office’s jurisdiction.
Beyond proving ownership, extracting biological samples allowed for crime monitoring—biological data entered into a database could match traces left at crime scenes, thereby identifying the “vehicle owner.”
“Great Raven, my Great Raven…”
Ashley hummed a tune as she exited the registry office, ready to find a bio-workshop to tune up the Demon Crow.
Though she’d completed the cadaverization transformation on her own, she wasn’t a professional, so her work was crude, with many details unfinished.
Now the Demon Crow was starting to tilt its head and wobble when it walked, as if it might topple over at any moment.
However, those flashy dealerships looked prohibitively expensive.
Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, she saw grand showrooms displaying cadavers of various models, coated in a layer of bronze oil paint like Olympic athletes, flexing their bulging muscles under bright lights while sharply dressed salespeople expounded endlessly.
Small workshops better matched her budget.
With that in mind, Ashley stepped into a modest shop with a sign reading “Budget Mech Repair.”
She peeked inside from the doorway—outdated facilities, cluttered and filthy environment, materials strewn about haphazardly. Her gaze searched until it landed on a small, skinny black figure hunched over a tiny desk, scribbling with a pen. Ashley narrowed her eyes and saw it was a loli.
“Hey, where are the adults here?” Ashley leaned against the doorframe and called out loudly.
The loli paused, her fingers tightening around the pen until her knuckles whitened. After a moment, she turned around, revealing an angry little face.
“I’m the mechanic here.”
“You?”
Ashley blinked, her gaze turning scrutinizing.
This loli was older than her, around eleven or twelve—nearing the end of loli years. She had a refined nose, bright black eyes, and boyish short hair that stuck out messily, with a ahoge springing up like a coil.
Her skin was a healthy wheat tone, tanned from sun exposure, like the caramelized crust of baked bread, exuding an intoxicating aroma. A glimpse down her collar revealed a pale white line untouched by the sun, creating a stark contrast.
Her hands and feet were slender, her frame delicate, with well-proportioned limbs and compact, full muscles from constant labor. The only eyesore was her bare little feet—tanned pitch-black and filthy, coated in a thick layer of street dust and grime.
The loli glanced at the Shriek Devil Crow behind Ashley, her expression flickering with surprise before furrowing into a frown.
“It’s a half-finished product, but this is way too irresponsible…”
“My skills are limited,” Ashley shrugged.
“You made this?” The loli was shocked instead. “Who hands something like this to you for practice? What kind of family are you from?”
“Uh…” Ashley looked away, thinking, Criminal family—not something I want to dwell on. She changed the subject: “What should be done next?”
“Its condition is poor. Start with a dialysis cycle and fluid replenishment… Oh, right. I’m Veronica Evelynna.”
“Ashley.”
“Ah! You didn’t even install a fluid port?” Veronica, scanning the Demon Crow’s vitals with a diagnostic tool, twisted her head to ask.
“Install one for me too.”
“Got it.”
Veronica nodded slightly and deftly unpacked a titanium alloy port from its box—a triangular design with a universal adapter connected to a thick tube fitted with a filter cartridge. The rear porous disc was for linking to artificial bio-pipes.
Next, she implanted bio-tubes one by one into the Demon Crow’s body, using activating enzymes throughout the process.
Ashley hadn’t held high hopes for the Blackfoot Loli’s skills, preparing mentally for a few painful pricks like with a novice nurse at the clinic.
But so far, it seemed solid—no wasted movements, precise and efficient. At least a seasoned pro.
Finally, the port’s three barbs pierced through the Demon Crow’s back, locking securely from within.
The dialysis and replenishment machine was the workshop’s most complex setup, housed alone under a rain shelter beside the building.
This white boxy device connected to a web of pipes, glass reactors, coil condensers, valves… plus assorted rotary evaporators and distillation gear. The pump hummed with vibration.
Waste fluid drawn from the Demon Crow passed through a semi-permeable membrane for filtration, was clarified, mixed with nutrient solution, and pumped back in.
As the Blackfoot Loli bustled about, Ashley sat nearby watching, picking up techniques while guarding against overcharges.
Gradually, her expression soured.
Ashley had mild mysophobia. She bathed once a day, and even slight sweat made her want another. She’d rub her skin idly, and any sticky feeling demanded a wash. Laundry had to be rinsed until not a trace of detergent slickness remained, or it’d disgust her.
Of course, she’d endure if conditions didn’t allow.
But now, Veronica’s little black feet paraded back and forth in Ashley’s view, squelch-squelch on the grimy, oily floor dotted with suspicious rotten stains—each one assaulting her cleanliness psyche like a hellish tableau, piling pressure on her mind.
Ashley had another quirk: the more grotesque, the more she had to stare.
Thus, she wrinkled her nose in disgust, staring relentlessly.
Eww, so black, so dirty—caked thicker than the batter on a KFC finger! Can those feet even be saved? No way!
Ashley’s little face twisted in misery, nausea churning in her chest. Her only stress relief? Grab those little black feet, plunge them into scalding, steaming water! Then squeeze hard, splaying the toes, and scrub every crevice with a boar-bristle brush!
In this fantasy, the little black feet would squirm to escape, wriggling like slugs in mud, but Ashley’s grip was ironclad, scrubbing mercilessly, over and over, until they gleamed pink and tender, limp in surrender…
Lost in her foot-washing reverie, Ashley missed Veronica completing the cycle and moving on to activating muscles, mending micro-tears, reinforcing ligaments, adding honeycomb ceramic armor plates, and titanium joint bracing…
Each time Veronica sought input, Ashley opted for the priciest option, delighting the rarely patronized Veronica. This was big business! She beamed, her teeth sparkling white.
After half a day of work, it was done.
Veronica stepped back, inspected from all angles, nodded in satisfaction, and panted as she wiped sweat from her brow with a towel.
“Lady Ashley, here’s your bill: 112 pounds and 20 pence. Check or cash?”
“Can I put it on credit?”
“Eh—?!”
