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Joanne and Kat nodded at each other. They were standing away from each other, and sandwiched between them, there was a man wearing a black vest. The man looked unfazed as he stared at Joanne. “An ambush?” he asked. “Who sent you?”
Joanne held her shields up, readying herself for an attack. The man was out of striking range, but she wanted to be prepared for any sudden movements. She made eye contact with Kat, and the cat-headed woman waved an ordinary-looking staff. However, the staff was far from ordinary. It was made of a special material that didn’t get wet after being peed on. Waves of invisible energy flowed out of the staff and washed over Joanne and the black-vested man.
Joanne shuddered, and goosebumps rose up all along her body. She felt like she could carry the whole world on her shoulders. Due to the difficulty of recharging the [Goblin Shaman’s Staff (Uncommon)], Yeoman and his party hadn’t tested out its abilities, but it was stronger than what Joanne had expected. She charged forward, closing the distance between her and the man in an instant. The man raised his arms to block, but it was as if he was moving in slow motion. Before his arms could even get up to his stomach, Joanne had already rammed her metal shields into his chest.
Dang, dang!
Kat clashed the [Dread Callers (Rare)] together, further decreasing the black-vested man’s strength while increasing Joanne’s. The man was sent tumbling away, only stopping after his body collided into a tree. Joanne wasn’t one to show mercy. Her ostrich legs once again closed the distance in a flash. With a top speed of forty-five miles per hour, ostriches could easily cover a distance of over sixty feet in one second. In layman’s terms, if an ostrich was on a baseball field, it could run from home plate to first base in two seconds. Joanne’s foot rammed into the man’s side, her wickedly long talon sinking into his skin and flesh like a knife.
Kat took that chance to point her staff at the man again, consuming another two charges to send him into a daze. Joanne didn’t waste that chance; she repeatedly kicked the man over and over, aiming for his head and neck. Her talon tore his flesh and bone to shreds; by the time she stopped, the man’s head resembled a broken tomato more than a skull. Joanne’s shoulders relaxed as the tension left her body. The sight and smell didn’t bother her. After killing goblins, kobolds, and lizardmen nonstop, she had grown resistant to the sight of slaughter, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it—even though it didn’t seem that way from Kat’s point of view.
“Is he dead?” Kat asked, her nose wrinkling as she approached the body. She was mostly happy with her cat head. Unfortunately, sometimes, it exposed her to unpleasant smells she wouldn’t have experienced with a regular human nose. “Wasn’t that too easy?”
Joanne stabbed her foot into the ground a few times, cleaning the bloody bits off her talon with some dirt. She crouched next to the corpse and searched it. “It was two against one,” she said while opening a pouch. She examined the things inside. “Besides, did you even know this guy’s name?”
“What does knowing his name have to do with anything?” Kat asked. She squatted by the corpse as well, helping Joanne strip it of its clothes.
“Haven’t you noticed?” Joanne asked. “In Virlyce’s novels, anyone without a name is just a filler character. They’re trash. How strong can trash be?”
“I guess that’s true,” Kat said. “Of the Red Blade Adventurers, I can only remember Sophie, Aran, and Zeke.” She picked up a pair of underwear, and her nose wrinkled before she tossed it away. “You think it’s a good or bad thing we didn’t get one of those three?”
Joanne shrugged. “The bad part about defeating trash is the loot is equally bad as well. This is the only thing the fleshwatch counts as an item.” She handed over a black vest to Kat.
[Ross’ Vest (Uncommon): This vest makes the wearer look like a badass. Provides a small passive bonus to courage and willpower.]
“It’s not that bad of an item,” Kat said. A sour smell hit her nostrils, and she pinched her nose. “We just have to wash it a few times.”
***
Aran’s forehead was filled with wrinkles. He was holding his red greatsword in one hand, walking with it propped up against his shoulder, his blue chainmail armor glinting in the sunlight. His stomach didn’t feel so good. It was as if he had swallowed a ton of rocks. Whenever his stomach acted like this, he knew something bad was going to happen. Was stealing a dragon’s egg too much? Perhaps it was a problem with Sophie. He should’ve carried the egg himself, but he had let her convince him otherwise. He took in a deep breath, and an alluring scent tickled his nose, easing the tension in his forehead.
Aran turned his head. There was a patch of orange flowers growing between some mossy stones. He had been an adventurer for years, but he had never seen any plant similar to the ones on the ground. Their leaves were thorny, and the flowers were peculiar. They seemed a bit flat, almost as if they were a part of the rock structure. Birds were perched around the odd formation, eating the insects that were attracted by the scent the flowers were giving off. Aran planted the tip of his greatsword into the ground and knelt by the patch of flowers, scaring the birds away. Perhaps the plants were a rare treasure; even if they weren’t, an unidentified herb was still worth a decent sum to the adventurers’ guild.
Aran grabbed one of the flowers. A hand grabbed him back. Aran let out a yell as the rocks and patch of plants shimmered, changing colors and texture, turning into a naked man with wings. The man wasn’t completely naked—he was wearing a pair of caesti. Aran recognized them; he had seen them up for sale at a weapon shop before. Aran struggled to free his hand, but the naked man wouldn’t let go. Aran balled his free hand up into a fist and threw a punch at the naked man’s face. A wing rose up from behind the man’s back and blocked the strike. Aran didn’t let that faze him; he grabbed the wing and raised his leg, digging his foot into the man’s stomach. He yanked on the wing while kicking out, hoping to draw some distance between himself and the man.
In response, the naked man released Aran’s arm and grabbed his leg with both hands. The world in Aran’s eyes shifted. The sky traded place with the earth as he was slammed into the ground like a ragdoll. Stars filled his vision, and a high-pitched ringing sound filled his ears.
“Aran!”
Was that Zeke’s voice? Aran knew he was in a bad place; he was starting to hallucinate. His hand slipped down, grabbing the hilt of the dagger that was hanging on his belt. He focused on the naked man’s face and unsheathed the dagger, slashing towards the man’s eyes. Black blood splashed as a neat horizontal line was drawn across the man’s face, connecting both his eyes. However, it was like the man couldn’t feel pain. There was no reaction, no scream. The man ruthlessly raised Aran up and slammed him into the ground again, knocking the wind out of his chest. Aran stabbed at the man’s face again, but a foot stomped down on his arm, pressing it back to the ground. There was a snapping sound; he was sure his arm was broken. “What, what are you?” Aran asked, barely getting the words out. The man stared at Aran with black blood cascading down his face, coming from the line across his eyes and nose bridge. Then, the pressure on Aran’s arm was relieved.
“Get off of him!”
Aran didn’t have time to react. A glass bottle was pressed against his lips, and a red liquid flowed into his mouth. He swallowed desperately, ignoring the bitter taste of the health potion as it traveled down his throat. He hadn’t been hallucinating; Zeke was really here, the blue-bandanaed rogue standing between him and the naked man. Aran finished drinking the health potion. He tossed away the glass bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “Why are you here, Zeke?”
“Someone’s targeting us,” Zeke said, holding his daggers out, their blue blades flashing in the sunlight. “A freak with six arms was waiting to ambush me. I managed to lose him, but he could arrive at any moment now.”
Yeoman frowned. It seemed like Aakash couldn’t keep his opponent tied down. Not only that, but Aran’s arm was already recovered thanks to that ridiculously expensive healing potion he was fed. Yeoman had intended on breaking both the man’s arms to prevent him from fighting back, but it seemed like he was being punished for showing mercy. Truthfully, Yeoman could’ve killed Aran much earlier with a simple bite or stomp to the neck, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Unless it was a matter of survival, Yeoman wouldn’t kill anyone. How would he be any different from those demons from Swirling Wind if he did? However, the situation was different now. Not only had Yeoman lost the advantage of surprise, but he was also outnumbered … and naked. He didn’t want to be naked, but it was the only way his camouflage would work. As for the caesti on his hands, they were hidden underneath his wings at the time.
Aran picked up his greatsword, wielding it with both hands. Zeke circled around Yeoman, making sure his daggers were always pointed in the naked man’s direction. Aran circled the other way, sandwiching Yeoman between the two of them. Aran let out a shout and charged forward, raising his greatsword up, readying himself for a horizontal swing. Yeoman frowned. At first, he planned on blocking the greatsword with his caestus, but when he noticed the edge of the blade was glowing, he changed his mind. Instead of retreating to the side or to the back where Zeke was waiting for him, Yeoman leapt upwards and spread his wings.
“Hey! That’s cheating!” Zeke shouted. “What the hell!”
“Cleave!” Aran shouted and swung his sword upwards. A line of fire shot out of the greatsword, and Yeoman barely managed to avoid the strike. Aran lowered his greatsword and glared at Yeoman. “Who are you? Why are you targeting us?”
Yeoman frowned as he flapped his wings, hovering in the air. Aran and Zeke didn’t have the dragon egg. Defeating them here would be pointless. However, if he let them go, they’d likely abandon their original plan and group up with their party members before heading to town. If that happened, Yeoman’s party members would be in danger. It seemed like he still had to fight them despite the egg not being there. Yeoman grabbed his side and dug into his flesh, ripping a hole in his oblique. The shadow pouch could fit in a pocket. It could also fit inside his flesh. Since he wasn’t wearing any clothes, he had to keep his shadow pouch somewhere—what better spot than inside his body? Yeoman pulled his iron club out of the shadow pocket and pinched his torn flesh, closing the hole. It only took a few seconds for a layer of green fungus to stitch his muscles back together.
Yeoman took a quick glance at his surroundings. He had selected this place for an ambush because there were trees in all directions. Just in case, he was making sure the trees hadn’t gone anywhere. It was extremely unlikely for that to happen, but he was in a magical world after all. He focused on the bark ring on his middle finger and activated its ability, Nature’s Fury. However, it didn’t work like Yeoman expected it to. Instead of feeling a surge of power coming to him from all the trees in the nearby vicinity, all he felt was … anger. Rage filled his mind, filled his body, causing him to see red. The sight of the two humans below him caused his chest to burn with pure, visceral hate.
Yeoman’s mouth opened wide, and he let out a shriek so loud that it echoed for miles. At the same time, he flew downwards while swinging his iron mace. Aran raised his sword to block the strike, and Zeke readied his daggers. It was a common tactic. The tank blocked the attacks of the monster, and the rest of the party took advantage of that time. However, the strategy only worked if the tank could actually block the monster’s attacks. Yeoman’s hammer collided with Aran’s sword, and the leader of the Red Blade Adventurers was forced to the ground, the bones in his arms and legs shattered.
Two daggers sank into Yeoman’s flesh from behind, one stabbing his heart, the other cutting the tendon’s in his right arm. Yeoman’s right arm went limp, but he still whirled around and grabbed Zeke’s arm with his left hand before the rogue could get away. Yeoman let out another scream, causing the rogue to wince. Blood leaked from one of his ears. Yeoman twisted his body, lifting Zeke over his head, and slammed him onto Aran. The two men stopped moving, and Yeoman let out a snort. They got everything they deserved for being filthy humans. They disrespected nature. How dare they wear clothes? Nature gave humans everything they needed, but they always wanted more. More, more, more. Just seeing the cloth and metals covering the two adventurers’ bodies made Yeoman angry. He lifted his mace and slammed it down on the two men repeatedly, over and over until everything was hidden by red.
A minute and a half later, Yeoman’s rage faded away mid-swing. His mace made one final squelching sound, splashing blood against his face. He winced and reflexively licked the liquid off his lips with his tongue. It tasted delicious. A snapping sound drew Yeoman’s attention, and he raised his head.
“Uh….” Aakash might have had three heads, three brains, and three mouths, but he still couldn’t figure out what to say even with the extra assistance. “Sup?”
Yeoman glanced at the mangled bodies by his feet. Then he stared at Aakash. Yeoman still couldn’t see out of his human eyes even though the cut had been healed by the fungus, but his crow eyes were enough. He wasn’t quite sure what to say either. “Yo. So, uh, they didn’t have the egg.”