Zaelen hissed, his eyes warily flitting around the landscape around him. Well, the three feet of landscape he could see. The rest was covered by gales of what was more snow then wind, so thick that nothing else was seeable. And of course, the thing that was hiding among the snow, which was much worse. He could sense its presence, and from the expressions and movements of the others, they could sense it too. The elderin squawked nervously, backing up until its feathers brushed Zaelen’s scales. The same magic circles as before glowed faintly above its head, a beam ready to strike anything that appeared. Light Beam, likely – Zaelen had spared a quick glance towards the elderin’s stats and skills. However, it likely wouldn’t be enough to stop whatever was there.
|||Keep your defenses up, alright?|||
Can’t you see what I’m doing?
Zaelen attempted to get a clearer view of his surroundings by using [Wind Surge] combined with [Dragon Breath]. But while it worked and did its purpose for a few fleeting seconds, the snow and wind soon overpowered it. Zaelen deemed it a waste of MP. Then something flashed inches from his snout. He jerked back, aiming a [Flame Claw] at it. But it had disappeared. What had appeared and stayed was four bleeding gashes on his snout.
“Well...” muttered Zaelen, “At least we know it has four claws now.”
The mystirin shuffled up to him, emitting several worried squawks. In that one moment, right as its attention turned to Zaelen, a black shape leaped onto it. Blood splattered onto the ground.
Zaelen moved instantly, sending a [Dragon Breath] toward the shadow. The aetherin gave a screech of alarm, bringing down talons wreathed in a purple aura down on the creature. The aquaerin sent a swirling beam of water blasting toward it. The elderin released several beams of white and golden light. Velwraith lunged, ice-covered claws ready to tear. Fyrn gave a growl and sent sharp spears of ice soaring.
As soon as the attacks were fired, the thing was gone. Zaelen broke his flames and dragged the mystirin out of the way. It gave a weak chirrup, looking at Zaelen with baleful eyes. Deep gashes had been dragged through its neck; precise and lethal. And as if it had done its job, the snowstorm swirled into a gently patter of snowflakes; the fierce winds from before gone as if it had never been there.
Blood flowed out of the mystirin like a surging flood, a puddle of the red liquid quickly forming on the ground. Zaelen tried to stop the flow until Velwraith pushed him out of the way.
“I have healing abilities,” he said, though the dark expression he had said that he wasn’t sure if that would be enough. A glowing green light like the healing wolf from before – Lyri or something – formed around Velwraith’s paws, though it was evidently dimmer.
|||His abilities probably aren’t as strong as Lyri’s|||
Zaelen suspected the same thing, because it seemed to take ages for the blood to stop. The rest of the chickens and Fyrn stood watch, though they kept looking to see how the process was going. Finally, the blood came to an end and the wound scabbed over. Velwraith fell back, panting heavily. Zaelen glanced at the mystirin’s HP. His mood, which hadn’t been exactly good, fell even more.
[Mystirin] HP: 34/215
Status: Poisoned, Weakened
[Warning]: The selected creature is in critical condition
Velwraith took one glance at Zaelen and knew something was wrong even though the wound had stopped bleeding.
“What?” the wolf asked grimly.
Zaelen didn’t have to ask what Velwraith meant. “Poison,” he answered.
Fyrn gave a horrified gasp. “Does that mean that they’ll die?”
The aetherin prodded the mystirin, which had fallen unconscious. It nudged it with its head. When its sibling didn’t wake, it nudged harder. The elderin chittered behind it, then joined in the nudging. The aquaerin came to inspect the wound, then drew back, horrified.
Then the chickens turned to stare at Zaelen with round eyes. It occurred to Zaelen that the chickens had never seen true death. Sure, they might’ve killed things, but they had never lost anything, or rather, anyone that they had known. Even in the battle where the wolves had gone into the aurexcarapax hive, they had been stationed outside, so they didn’t see the deaths of the wolves. And killing the gigantic wasps weren’t the same. After all, everyone killed something, whether it was a gigantic aurexcarapax or a tiny insignificant ant.
To be honest, this was worse, considering that they had to watch as the mystirin’s chest slowly slowed, its death drawing painstakingly closer with every breath.
“Momma, what’s happening?” asked the aquaerin. Its voice was small and scared.
Zaelen knew, but he supposed that telling them the truth wouldn’t make the situation better. And there was a small chance that the mystirin could live. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, Fyrn stepped in.
“They’re sleeping,” she crooned. “They’re not waking up because they’re very tired. Let them rest, you wouldn’t want to be woken up when you were very tired, would you?” The wolf ushered the chickens away and Zaelen gave a relieved sigh.
Velwraith spoke. “Do you think it’ll... survive?”
“...To be honest, no. Not unless we find someone who has, well, better healing abilities.”
The gray blue and white wolf winced but he nodded. “Do you know someone like that?”
Zaelen thought back to Lyri.
“I mean... I do but there’s no way that we’re going to be able to find her.”
|||What about Servant Chicken?|||
What? I thought you didn’t agree with me calling them chickens? Much less servant chickens – even I don’t like calling them that. Makes it sound like they’re my slaves.
|||No, I don’t agree with you calling them that too but THINK. USE. YOUR ONE BRAINCELL BRAIN|||
Zaelen scrunched up his face, trying to scrounge up some memory from the depths of his mind.
Cetalis Sicarious
Name: Servant Chicken
Level: 236/1500
HP: 3000/3000
MP: 1000/1000
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SPD: 2850
STR: 2900
Skills (Condensed): [Nightfall Lv11] [Final Eclipse Lv7] [Shadow Slash Lv21] [Blade Strike Lv19] [Human Transformation Lv15] [Telepathy Lv13]
Resistances: [Poison Lv4] [Bleed Lv7] [Darkness LvMax] [Light Lv4] [Weakened Lv3] [Paralyze Lv4] [Fire Lv2] [Ice Lv5]
Zaelen blinked. “Oh. When did that exist?”
|||ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!|||
|||I THOUGHT YOU AT LEAST HAD ONE BRAINCELL!|||
Well, ‘Servant Chicken’ isn’t going to help anyway! He doesn’t have any healing skills!
|||He could CERTAINLY do a better job than SOMEBODY on finding the wolves|||
When’d I say I wanted to find the wolves?!
|||Hmm, MAYBE A FEW MINUTES AGO!|||
And how do I even call him?
|||Oh, I WONDER what telepathy does|||
Hey, he didn’t have that last time I checked his stats!
|||So now you happen to just conveniently remember?!|||
|||I thought you were worried about the chicken!|||
Aha! You called it a chicken! You agree with me!
|||What – no! Just get it over with and call Servant Chicken here!|||
What – fine! And what am I supposed to do, just say: ‘Servant Chicken, come here’?! Velwraith prodded Zaelen with a paw, jolting him out of his argument with the system. He turned to look at the wolf, who in turn directed his gaze toward the mystirin. It looked worse than before, its breaths coming shallow and fast.
HP: 25/215
Zaelen was reminded that the lethal poison was still working its way through the mystirin’s system, slowly and agonizingly consuming its life. Zaelen sighed. Despite all his bravado in the argument, he truly was worried for the mystirin. Yet what could he do? He walked forward and sat beside the mystirin and its siblings. They squawked and nestled closer to him, as if trying to find comfort in him.
“It’ll be fine, right?” asked the aetherin. Its voice was small and quavered, as if scared of the answer.
Zaelen leaned closer and ruffled the feathers on its head. “Of course. Of course.”
The aetherin and other chickens instantly relaxed and Zaelen realized they trusted him with all their hearts. If he told them to jump off a cliff with their wings clipped, they would probably do it. He sighed, when Fyrn gave a warning growl. Zaelen’s head jerked up from watching the mystirin, eyes focusing on a distant shape on the horizon. It was rapidly growing closer through the soft mist of snow that still fell.
Soon, they could all make out it was a bird. Then it landed in a flurry of beating wings, sending snow flying up around it. Zaelen gave a yelp as the white particles flew up in his face, franticly using [Wind Surge] to blow them back. Fyrn gave a fierce growl and leaped, claws outstretched, ready to rip and tear. Before she managed to even nick a feather, the new arrival somehow already had her pinned under one of his feet, his sharp talons digging into her flesh.
Fyrn writhed and struggled, but it was to no avail. Velwraith darted from behind Zaelen a second later in a blur of white. A few seconds later, he was pinned by dark chains of shadow that had erupted from the ground. The bird turned to look at Zaelen. He frowned.
“...Ohhhhhh. Servant Chicken?” Zaelen gasped, finally realizing.
|||A round of applause to Zaelen, please!|||
Shut it.
Servant Chicken coughed and stared at Zaelen with an injured expression. “I come back after this long and the first thing you say is ‘Servant Chicken’?”
“No, it was ‘oh’,” corrected Zaelen.
Servant Chicken smacked his forehead with a wing. “I swear... what did I do that all for?” he muttered.
Zaelen blinked, realizing that Servant Chicken had changed from before. Well, his species name was different too. Guess he evolved? Instead of the normal pastel hues from before, his feathers had changed into a pure midnight black with red highlights. The long wings feathers on his wings ended in sharp, glinting blades.
“So, what did you call me here for?” asked Servant Chicken, releasing Fyrn from under his talons. He flicked a wing and Velwraith’s chains sank back into the ground. Fyrn leaped away, fur bristling. She glared at Zaelen.
“Why do you talk so... relaxedly with him?!” she snarled. “And why is he here?!”
Zaelen tilted his head. “He’s gonna help the chicken.” He motioned toward the prone figure of the mystirin on the ground.
“And how would he do that? He’s obviously made for killing.” Fyrn cast a wary glance at Servant Chicken, who watched her with a placid expression.
“I could’ve killed you while you were under my talons. And the other wolf too.” Servant Chicken paused as he surveyed the condition the mystirin was in. “So what do you want me to do, Zaelen?”
“You remember the wolves, right?”
Servant Chicken snorted. “As if I could forget. What about them?”
“Find them. To be more specific, find Lyri. Or some other healer.”
“I thought it was weird that they weren’t near. What happened?”
Zaelen gulped and looked away. “You can... find that out later.”
“By god, you are impossible,” said Servant Chicken, rolling his eyes. Then he flared his wings wide and set to the sky. “I’ll be back!”
“You better!” called Zaelen. Then he turned to Fyrn, who was still glaring at him. He was pretty sure that she if she could’ve pierced a hole through him with her eyes alone, she would’ve.
“How much have you not told us?!” she snapped.
Zaelen scrunched up his face in thought. “Ummm... a lot?”
Fyrn glared even harder. “Then you better spit it all out. NOW.”
“Hey, Fyrn, it’s not like he -” Velwraith tried to comfort the fuming wolf, but Fyrn wouldn’t have it.
She whipped around to face him, fangs bared. “How can you not be angry, Velwraith?! We’ve kept helping him, first giving him shelter, then following him out to this barren wasteland of a tundra! I don’t understand why that darned serpent let him stay in the first place!”
Velwraith flinched back, eyes wide in shock. “You mustn't slander the Master like that!”
“Master? Master?? It's just an undignified snake!” screeched Fyrn. “It doesn’t deserve such a title, not after holding reign over us for years. We’ve been bowing and cowering to it – like some slave or servant.”
“He. You well know that, yet you decide to address Master like some... animal?!” Velwraith bared his fangs in return. “What, like you could do better! There’s no way you’d be able to defeat him – and you well know that that’s the only way to take the place of the ‘true’ alpha.”
Fyrn snorted. “He then. And who knows, Velwraith, who knows.” She smiled, though it wasn’t exactly comforting.
Velwraith flinched. “...What do you mean?”
Zaelen squinted. Yo, is that the signs of a conspiracy plot, system?
|||How am I supposed to know?!|||
Fyrn simply smirked. “All I’ll tell you is that his reign is coming to an end. Once and for all.”
“Fyrn. Do not speak nonsense!” snapped Velwraith. His claws dug into the dirt, as if he wanted to rake them across Fyrn’s face.
Woahhh, this is getting intense. I feel like I’m watching one of those drama movies. If only I had some popcorn.
|||...|||
Fyrn narrowed her eyes, twitching her tail in irritation. “Stop acting like that thing is some immortal being from heaven!”
“Well, you’re not acting any better! What, is he some demon from hell then?!”
Fyrn answered with a hiss and leaped at Velwraith. Before she got halfway, Servant Chicken dove down and clutched her in his talons.
“Woah, woah, now what’s happening? I go away for a few seconds and when I get back, some sort of conspiracy plot or something is going on!” yelped Servant Chicken as he nonchalantly kept a writhing, fuming frost wolf pinned under him.
“Exactly my thoughts,” agreed Zaelen. “Anyhow, have you brought Lyri?”
Servant Chicken bobbed his head. “Look, there she comes now.” He pointed a wing at a fast-approaching wolf, followed by many more not far behind. “Though, I have to say, I almost got my head cut off the second I landed.”
Zaelen squinted at the shapes in the distance. “Very nice,” he muttered absentmindedly – he was trying to discern which of the wolves were Lyri.
Lyri saved him the trouble, spotting him and, more importantly, the mystirin before he spotted her. Zaelen turned to see, with mild surprise, that Lyri had already somehow arrived, and was already treating the mystirin with that faint glow. The healthy chickens crowded around.
“Hey, give her some room,” called Servant Chicken. “How do you expect her to work as cramped as she is right now?”
The chickens reluctantly stepped back, realizing the sense of Servant Chicken’s words. Lyri stayed like that for several minutes, gently moving her paws around the mystirin. Then, just as the first of them arrived, she stepped back.
[Mystirin] HP: 126/215
[Mystirin] Status: Sleeping, Recovering
Zaelen sighed, feeling the tension he hadn’t known was there seep from his muscles. The mystirin’s breaths had smoothed out into a steady rhythm. Then he turned to face the wolves. He frowned.
The wolf leading the pack wasn’t Iceria or even Cryos. It was – what was his name again? Yes. It was Fenrir, the wolf which had been ‘displeased’ with him, to put it lightly.
“Why are you here? Where’s Cryos and Iceria?” Zaelen glanced at the pack again, but neither of the wolves mentioned were found.
Fenrir sneered. “They’re dead.”