“Huehuehuehue,” The chortle was sickening, enough to make one’s skin crawl, even a veteran's, “As soon as the final pieces are in place the covenant will be complete,”

“Mmm, then is it correct to assume that you will finish post haste?”

The sudden appearance of a new voice made the chortling nobleman jump. They wore strange three piece outfit, decked with a kilt as opposed to pants, all coloured in a muddy brown. His skin was likewise a tarnished brown, scaly and of a strange, rough grain. Like a lizard, or in another, more literal sense, like a reptoid as I’m informed of.

“Ah— ! Oh, it’s you…” He greeted awkwardly, “I give my greetings to the emissary of the Primeval Masons.”

I mean, who states someone’s whole name and title for a greeting? Are you gonna address him son of Lizard, kin of the great Zuk as well? Good gods did I fail to understand the upperclass.

“Hmm, it is good that you remember your manners brother Brikolas. After all…“ The emissary’s eyes turned sharp, “It would do no good to lose your roots in the face of the hallowed one,”

“Ah, I guess that time is approaching,” Brikolas muttered thoughtfully.

“Indeed, your contributions have been great, brother Brikolas, the essence of those village bumpkins you procured were of rather… surprisingly high quality. The time draws near,”

This news… How scandalous!

A feudal lord. A protector of the kingdom, yet he was the one to drive it to ruin. To work with the lizards and forsake the people he swore to protect!

No honour! Ptui!

Oh lord! Imagine being so dishonourable that even a heretic felt a need to spit on your doorstep.

“Huehue, indeed, the wish of my line shall be achieved,” A maddened glint flashed in his eyes, “I’ll finally ascend!”

A crescent smile sprouted across his face as he cocked her head toward the sacrifice prepared, bound and fastened “And you’ll be the last piece,”

“You think you have the absolute high ground, don’t know? You make this demmand expecting me to simply accept your orders,” Meeting the contempt of Brikolas, the sacrifice just couldn’t contain themselves, “But… I refuse!”

“Tsk, stupid child, do you really think you have a choice in the matter?”

“Yes,” The answer was instant. Not a single ounce of hesitation as the statement was uttered. Just as she was taught. Never say yes to strangers.

“Huehuehue, how I’d love to break that cute face of yours,”

But of course, I’m not going to allow such a thing to happen in front of my eyes. Or at least, I wouldn’t in normal circumstances.

But Lily, I’m afraid I can’t aid you as of this current moment of time.

Tapping my index finger at the trigger of my crossbow, a sharp pain jolts through.

Seeing my hesitation, Lily’s face practically collapses as she looks my way.

Argh, for a bird, your puppy eyes are simply uncanny… I really want to help you I really do, but my hands are tied here. Or rather…

“My wrists are cut.” Plus I got a splinter as well. Godsdamnit. When it rains it pours!

“Oh, is that why we’re still standing here, cultistman?”

Mhmm, “I wonder if you’re immobile ass can do better?” I don’t think the plant understands the severity of a cut wrist.

“Is this a test? Are you testing me?” Her roots curl up around her, making rather macabre and janky movements, “An illiterate cultist dares to test me?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Mmm, I may be illiterate, but that has nothing to do with my actual ability, so in effect, “Yes, I am testing you.”

"Tsk, you'll eat your words, cultist."

From its pot, the plant just smashes through the window as nearby grass unroots itself to flood into the ritual room —office chamber —. Mmm putting the plant to hard work. Good job me.

Now, onto more important matters. “Mhmmmm, that hurts. Huuu, that really hurts…”

Muttering in a cold breath as I clutch my bleeding wrist, I find that the pain seems to lesson with my cantankerous whining.

“Jeffrey, you wouldn’t have this problem if you didn’t cut your wrists.”

“Was there any other option?”

“There were many.” In contrast to my resolute drive, Laffer still has the mind to put me down, “Good lords… Lazari ain’t one of us, yknow? She can still drink a potion or take some salve and not die.”

You shitestain, “Then why the Hell did you tell me to cut my wrist?”

At this, the man puts a hand to his temple as he leans on the nearby wall. “I told you to use backward logic, yes. But I meant more like, herbal stuff.”

Mmmm, you know what? I’m gonna stop thinking about this. Honestly, I can’t find the mood to be pissed when standing in wintry hail. All that matters is that cutting my wrist, fixed Lazari’s wrist.

Don’t know how. Backwards logic.

Don’t trust in the process. Believe in the outcome. Or don’t. After all, thinking is the leading cause of insanity. Everyone who was ever insane has had thoughts. So for both your sake and mine, stop thinking.

It works because yes. Nothing more, nothing less. Yes.

Now, it may be a bit hard to stop thinking, but you just need to find a distraction. Any jolly folly will do, but when presented with the spectacle at hand, then this serves best.

Watching a cultist being thrashed by a plant never failed to amuse. Have I said this before? I don’t think I have, but like, I actually hate lizards. It cannot be put into words nor thought how much I despise them.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I care for my wellbeing and the plant was doing my job for me, I would be roasting them right now.

“You should be, they have some tasty essence.”

Ehh, too late for that. “I’mma just watch the show,” I shrug, brushing the rather mindful suggestion. After all, I want to see what this plant can do.

It’s the first I’ve seen a talking plant, but from my extensive knowledge of plants, they shouldn’t be able to talk, let alone move with such exuberance and even operate whilst unrooted to the ground.

I thought plants loved dirt?

Well, I guess it also comes down to the type of dirt as well. I usually favoured loamy soil for my plants, in part to the fact that it was easy to get and worked well with vegetables. Though this primrose lookin’ bastard would likely prefer a silt soil.

Hmm, if things go well, maybe I could indulge her? Life is always tough for plants… Not to mention, she basically cut off her lifeline… Can’t help but shed a tear for their unjust adversity.

“Perhaps I was too harsh…”

But watching through this very window, I retract the statement. I was definitely harsh, yes, but not too harsh.

Before anyone could react, a leering root was swept low causing the nobleman’s knees no longer bend the way they should. Alarmed, the kilt guy tosses up a couple small mallets into the air. They each sparkle with a menacing black flame, but countering at a near instinctual level, the plant just snuffs them out with a veneer of snow dewed leaves.

Good lord, what kind of plant doesn’t die from fire?

Heedless of my wonderstruck, the plant wastes no time jousting a barbed vine forward, and like plunging a hand into a lake, she gouges out the kilt guy’s still beating heart.

“ARgHG! Creeper?!”

It was mildly unnerving watching a heart writhe in amongst vines, but it was even more unnerving to watch a guy still have the time to act shocked and bounce around despite the adequate lack of a heart. And well, I may not be a doctor, but I’m pretty sure you need your heart to be inside your body.

“Mmhmm! Time to die reptoid,” So saying, her barbed vines constrict around the heart, but lizard kilt man ain’t gonna let that happen.

Not on his heart at least.

Materialising strange, oblique text, they light up with that same black flame. But before he can chuck them at the plant, his heart had already ceased to be and so did he. After all, squishing a heart sure as Hell didn’t take as much time as summoning freaky words from nowhere.

Though it felt longer, I hope to remind you that this whole exchange lasted about four seconds

To think this incompetent cult actually had enemies of such prestige…

I know for a fact, that if it were us doing the deed. We would have butchered it in the first three seconds. Man, that guy could catalyse black fire faster than I could shoot!

Witnessing that, there was only one comment I could make.

“Sh-She's actually competent…” And a bit scary, but competent nonetheless. And really, that's the only fact that needed to be noted.

That was also the first time Laffer agreed with me.

Though I had to wonder, with things like these hunting the heretics, how is this cult still up and running? More importantly, why am I so unconcerned?

Welp, I vest my trust in you, future me. Don't let present me down.