Previous | Table of Contents | Next
[Bonus Mission: Kill a scavenger crow. 1/1]
Yeoman exhaled. At first, he thought it was luck that he had encountered Lucia. After traveling around with her, he realized it was mostly luck, but it was also due to the fact Lucia ran towards every scavenger crow she heard in the forest. Since he had been surrounded by twenty of them, it wasn’t a surprise Lucia had found him.
“Hey, you can take your time. We’re taking a break here.”
Yeoman looked up from the ground. Lucia and Snow were sitting by a fire. A minute ago, there wasn’t a fire, but evidently, magic tools were very useful. Yeoman remembered Lucia had one that could start fires. “Okay.” Yeoman nodded and went back to searching the ground for scavenger crows. There had been a whole flock of them following an injured wolf, and Lucia wildly swung some qi blades at them after dispatching the wolf. It was Yeoman’s job to pick up the corpses. Luckily, he had found a crow that was still alive but had its wing cut off. Killing it had completed his mission. Yeoman cut the head off the crow and squeezed. A metallic object the size of a marble popped out of the crow’s beak. Yeoman picked it up, and a red light flashed on his wrist.
[Obtained Scavenger Crow Gene Portion]
[Scavenger Crow Gene Portion: Collect thirty of these to obtain a Scavenger Crow Gene (Epic).]
Yeoman’s brow furrowed. Snow was the one who had told him to squeeze crow heads for their beast cores. In the original story, Lucia needed to absorb thirty scavenger crow cores to obtain the strength, speed, and intelligence of a crow. It seemed like the aliens came up with a similar system for their test subjects; collect thirty cores, or gene portions, and one would unlock the scavenger crow node on the phylogenetic tree of life. Yeoman raised his head. Snow was staring at him, but the bunnykin turned his head away.
“I think I found a core,” Yeoman said, raising the metallic object.
“Oh? That’s pretty lucky!” Lucia waved her hand. “Toss it here.”
Yeoman lobbed the gene portion over, and Lucia snatched it out of the air. She squeezed it with her hand and closed her eyes. A moment later, she exhaled and clapped her hands together, dusting them off. “Five, err, six! Um, three? Only a few more!”
“I’ve been thinking, perhaps we should focus less on your physical abilities and focus more on your mental abilities.” Out of nowhere, a handsome man appeared by Lucia’s side. The man grasped the spear that was hanging on his back and walked towards Yeoman. “Do you know who I am?”
Yeoman knew exactly who this man was. He was Durandal, Lucia’s weapon spirit. He was also a coldblooded killer who’d silence anyone who might leak his identity. Yeoman gasped and covered his mouth, his eyes widening. “You, you must be a high-ranked warrior! I didn’t even realize you were here.”
Durandal froze in place. “That’s right,” he said, putting his spear back on his back. He folded his arms over his chest and sat beside Lucia, giving her a stern look.
“Don’t worry! I remember what you did to the last people who found out your identity,” Lucia said, loud enough for Yeoman to hear. He wasn’t sure if she was doing it on purpose or not. “Even if he does find out, you better not kill him!”
A bead of sweat rolled down Yeoman’s back. He thought it would be smooth sailing after latching onto Lucia’s thigh, but he had completely forgotten about Durandal. However, there was nothing else Yeoman could do. If he left right now, he’d die in the forest sooner or later, but if he stayed here, he might complete a few more quests before being beheaded by Durandal. Yeoman finished gathering up the scavenger crow corpses and checked them for cores. There weren’t any. He cracked open the dead moonlight wolf’s head with his metal rod, and dug his fingers around, looking for a core. All he found was a sense of nausea. It was unsettling to dig through something’s brain without gloves. Even with gloves, he’d probably find it sickening.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!
Yeoman raised his head. Lucia was swinging her sword at the air, chopping at the space in front of her as if it had stolen her acorn. Snow was busy preparing a stew. There were some noticeable black berries in a pouch lying next to a defeathered scavenger crow. Yeoman frowned. He gathered up the dead scavenger crows, placed them on top of the moonlight wolf’s corpse, and dragged the whole pile over to Snow’s side. “I’m done. Did you want me to help you cook?”
“Hey!” Lucia said, turning away from her sword-swinging practice. “Don’t flirt with Snow! He has a penis!”
Yeoman and Snow turned to stare at Lucia. She was looking back at them with an expression that said, “What? Prove me wrong.”
Snow sighed and shook his head. “I don’t need any help.”
“Ah?” Lucia blinked. “Weren’t you always complaining about having to make me food? Let him do all the work. What did I save him for if you’re not going to use him?”
Snow’s expression flickered, but it returned to normal in an instant. “Alright,” he said and pointed at the pot while looking at Yeoman. “Do you know how to make stew? It’s easy. You just put these things inside the pot when the water boils.”
Yeoman nodded and picked up one of the black berries. He had gathered lots of these just a few weeks ago. “Wait!” Yeoman shouted, drawing Lucia’s and Durandal’s attentions. “This berry is poisonous. It tastes sweet, and some beasts can eat it, but if a person eats it, they’ll die. One of the slaves that escaped with me ate these and died.”
“Ah?” Lucia’s eyes widened. She appeared by the pouch of berries in an instant. She sniffed the berry and tilted her head before taking a tiny nibble. Her tail stiffened, and she spat on the ground repeatedly. “Snow, you moron!”
Bang!
“Ow!” Snow clutched the side of his head where Lucia had smacked him with the flat of her sword—gently, of course.
“You almost killed us!” Lucia said and scooped the berries out of the pouch. After a moment of considering, she placed the berries back inside the pouch, tied the pouch up, and tossed the whole thing away with a grunt. “It’s a good thing, err, what’s your name?”
“Yeoman.”
Lucia nodded. “It’s a good thing Yo-yo was here, or we’d all be dead!”
Snow glared at Yeoman; the bunnykin was still clutching his head with both hands where Lucia had hit him. To Yeoman, it didn’t seem to be a rare occurrence for Snow to get hit. It wasn’t a mystery as to why Snow had tried to kill Lucia. Yeoman shivered and looked away. Since he foiled Snow’s plot, there was a chance the bunnykin would aim for him next.
“I’m sorry, Lucia!” Snow said and lowered his hands before hanging his head. “Bouncykins told me they tasted sweet, and I just really wanted you and Durandal to try them.”
Durandal sighed and grasped his spear. The next second, a spearhead was stabbing towards Yeoman’s face. His body reacted instinctively, and he struck the shaft of the spear with his forearm, diverting the attack away from his head. His cheeks stung, and hot liquid ran down to his lower jaw and neck. Even though the tip of the spear hadn’t even grazed him, he was still injured; however, he had barely managed to keep his life.
“Stop! Durandal!” Lucia pounced on Durandal, and the two tumbled to the ground. “I told you not to kill him! Snow found out about us, and you let him live!”
“Snow’s different.” Durandal said. He wasn’t struggling against Lucia, letting her pin him to the ground. “He’s Cottontail’s descendant. Besides, Yo-yo over there isn’t your average slave. That strike should’ve killed him.”
Lucia snorted. “I don’t care! You have to stop killing people at the drop of a hat!”
“He knows who I am, Lucia,” Durandal said. “What if he tells someone the Godking’s inheritance has been found? The whole world will chase you down.”
Yeoman took in a deep breath. There was nothing he could say to convince Durandal that he wouldn’t tell. However, there was something he could do. “I won’t tell anyone about your existence.” He took in a deep breath, dreading the next words he was going to say. “You can even cut my tongue out to make sure of that.”
Lucia’s eyes widened. “That’s … genius! Yeah!” She bobbed her head up and down. “See, Durandal! You don’t have to kill people to keep them silent. Just cut their tongues out!”
“I suppose we could do that,” Durandal said and furrowed his brow. “What if he can read and write?”
“I’m a slave,” Yeoman said. “I can’t do those things.”
“Yeah, silly,” Lucia said and got off of Durandal. “What kind of slave knows how to read and write?” She walked over to Yeoman and took the knife that he was using to cut apart scavenger crows. “You want to live, right?” Lucia beamed as if she were super pleased with herself. “Open your mouth. Don’t worry! I’m very good at cutting things apart.”
There was a rustling sound, and Snow came over with a piece of glowing charcoal clasped between two sticks. “After you cut his tongue out, it’ll bleed a lot. You’ll have to press this against the stump to close the wound.” The bunnykin looked like an angel when he smiled, but to Yeoman, he had never seen a more sinister expression in his life.
An adorable rabbit hopped into the corner of Yeoman’s view. The rabbit shook its head and muttered, “I’m stuck in a camp full of psychos.”
Yeoman swallowed. “Can—”
Lucia’s hand flashed, and she snatched Yeoman’s tongue with her left hand’s index and middle fingers. She flicked her thumb, hitting Yeoman’s upper teeth, opening his mouth wide. While he was dazed from the thumb strike, an icy cold feeling came from his tongue, and suddenly, there was a breeze in his mouth. That cold sensation only lasted a moment before a burning coal approached Yeoman’s face. He struggled, but Lucia held his head still with one hand, propping his mouth open with her thumb and index finger. He couldn’t close his mouth even though he was biting down as hard as he could. There was a sizzling sound followed by a blinding white pain; it was the last thing he remembered before everything went dark.
When Yeoman woke up, it was already night. His mouth hurt. The worst part of it was he couldn’t wiggle his tongue to find out where the pain was coming from. He was used to feeling the backs of his teeth, but with that sensation gone, he felt lost, like a major part of him was missing—which, in a sense, there was. He tried to swallow the spit that had built up in his mouth, but it was surprisingly difficult to do without his tongue to guide it to his throat.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Durandal said. The weapon spirit was sitting next to a bonfire, snacking on a scavenger crow. Lucia was sleeping next to him, with her head resting on his lap, and Snow was lying down just a few feet away. “Are you hungry?”
Yeoman’s stomach growled. He ignored the burning in his mouth and sat up before standing, making his way to the fire. Durandal pointed at the ground, where a scavenger crow’s corpse was waiting to be prepared. Yeoman picked it up and checked his body. His knife was on his belt beside his metal rods and hatchet. Evidently, Lucia and Snow hadn’t thought of his possessions as worth stealing. Durandal frowned at the sight of Yeoman taking apart the scavenger crow with a knife, and he got up, making sure to carefully transfer Lucia’s head to the ground. Yeoman ignored him.
A moment later, a pile of clothes landed on the ground by Yeoman. “Change,” Durandal said. “You stink. I’ll cook the scavenger crow for you.”
Yeoman tilted his head back to swallow his saliva. He dropped the crow and knife before taking the clothes. It seemed like he wasn’t going to be targeted by Durandal anymore; Snow, however, was probably still looking for a chance to kill him. While Yeoman changed out of his clothes, he felt like he was forgetting something. When he finished changing, leaving his clothes in a pile beneath a tree, he went back to the fire and remembered what he had forgotten. Durandal didn’t know how to cook. The scavenger crow that was waiting for him looked even darker than when it had feathers on its body. It was a good thing Yeoman couldn’t taste it.
Eating was difficult. Yeoman hadn’t realized how important of a role his tongue had played in mastication. Like most things, he only appreciated how valuable it was after it was gone. When Yeoman proposed to cut out his tongue, there was a faint hope that Lucia would be moved and tell him he didn’t have to. Before she was poisoned by Snow, she was a nice person with a sense of morals. However, it seemed like cutting out tongues wasn’t against her sense of righteousness. In fact, she probably thought she was saving his life by doing so. It was an experience Yeoman would rather not think about again, but he’d most likely remember it every time he ate. A sigh escaped from his mouth; even the way his breath exited his body was different.
“Wake up.”
“Ack!” Lucia bolted to her feet. “Huh? What’s going on?”
“Time to start training,” Durandal said and withdrew the spear he smacked Lucia with. “You’ve slept for over an hour. Don’t you think that’s too much?”
Yeoman recalled Durandal was a devilish teacher, always beating Lucia. Yeoman believed the harsh training was part of the reason why Lucia became such a monster in the latter part of the series. However, he couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like his actions could change the story. Lucia groaned and climbed to her feet, her movements jerky, much like a zombie. She grabbed her sword and swung it, shooting red beams into the sky.
Yeoman put down the burnt scavenger crow. He wasn’t hungry, and eating made the stump of his tongue hurt. Takeo had told Yeoman katas needed to be practiced every day. Since Yeoman spent the majority of his day chasing after Lucia as she went to kill things, he obviously couldn’t find a chance to drill his katas. He stood up and positioned himself a bit away from Lucia. He didn’t want to get hit by her on accident; he’d likely die. After taking in a breath, he began.
Durandal turned towards Yeoman but didn’t say anything. The weapon spirit watched Yeoman with a frown as the man attacked the air. The frown only grew deeper with time, and soon, Durandal went up to Yeoman and slapped his arms. “Don’t do that.”
Yeoman arms stung. He wanted to ask why, but he couldn’t speak. Instead, he nodded. If he didn’t listen, then he’d likely be killed or abandoned.
“Huh?” Lucia stopped swinging. “Wasn’t he training? Why’d you make him stop?”
“It’s blasphemy,” Durandal said. “I wasn’t going to let him keep disrespecting me.”
Blasphemy? How was karate blasphemy? Yeoman had no idea. Evidently, Lucia had no idea either. “How?” she asked and tilted her head.
“It looks like training for barehanded combat,” Durandal said and tilted his chin upwards. “Does he think he’s above using weapons? Weapons are a necessity in combat.”
“He’s a slave, Durandal,” Lucia said. “Slaves don’t get weapons. It makes sense he fights without them.” She shifted her gaze over to Yeoman. “You better not practice, when I’m not practicing, okay? If Durandal sees you working hard and sees me lazing about, he’ll force me to train too! And if that happens, I’ll let a bear eat you, got it?”
Yeoman bobbed his head up and down. Katas needed to be practiced every day? Not if practicing would get him killed. It’d ruin the whole point of training to stay alive if the training left him dead. Since Lucia didn’t want him to train while she was slacking, and since Durandal didn’t want him to do his katas at all, there was only one thing to do. Yeoman lay down by the fire to get some sleep. Unfortunately, the pain in his mouth made it very difficult to get comfortable.