Chapter : 65
[Objective: Obtain Ten (10) intact pelts with wool unaffected by scavenger damage or improper handling.]
[Reward: Master Alchemist Grimaldi offers Three (3) Vials of Purified Quicksilver per pelt OR Equivalent Value in Rare Herbs.]
[Hazard Level: Moderate-High (Environntal Hazards, Beast's Curse Aura, Requires Precise Incapacitation)]
The Whispering Hill Wild Sheep. Lloyd rembered the cautionary tales whispered among novice adventurers in his first life. Creatures that looked deceptively like ordinary, albeit large and shaggy, sheep. But their wool… their thick, greasy wool pulsed with a low-level psychic miasma. Touch it directly, get entangled in shed clumps, even breathe too deeply near a panicked flock, and the curse would seep in. Victims beca ensnared in vivid, increasingly terrifying waking nightmares, slowly losing their grip on reality, descending into a gentle, smiling madness from which there was rarely a return. Their vacant eyes and placid smiles were said to be deeply unsettling.
They were relatively easy prey in theory. They weren't physically aggressive unless cornered, relying entirely on their passive curse aura. As long as you maintained distance, avoided the wool, and possessed a Spirit strong enough to project power from range, you could take them down. A powerful archer with specialized arrows, a mage with concussive force spells, or a Spirit user whose companion had potent ranged attacks could handle them.
Nineteen-year-old Lloyd, in his first life, wouldn't have dread of attempting it. His own Void abilities back then were rudintary, barely controllable 'Iron Body' tricks. And his Spirit companion? A scruffy, underfed wolf-thing utterly incapable of projecting power, let alone potent ranged attacks. He would have been curse-fodder within minutes.
Now, Lloyd thought, a grim smile touching his lips as he turned onto a less crowded street leading towards the city's western gate, it's a different story entirely. He had Fang, brimming with lightning potential and the newly acquired Thousand Chirp Strike. And he had his own secret weapon – the true Ferrum power, the whisper-thin threads of burning steel, perfect for precise, ranged takedowns without ever getting close enough to sniff the cursed fleece. This wasn't just a hunt for profit; it was a perfect field test for his combined capabilities.
As he walked, the noise of the city gradually fading, replaced by the quieter sounds of residential streets, he felt it – the subtle shift in the background hum of awareness. Eyes watching. Not the overt, jealous stares of the Guild Hall, but sothing more deliberate, more focused. Hidden. Following.
He didn't slow his pace, didn't look over his shoulder. He simply continued walking, projecting calm indifference.
A voice, so quiet it was barely more than a rustle of leaves against his ear, sounded from the unseen shadows beside him. Ken Park. Master of stealth.
"Young Lord. Four individuals. Maintaining distance. Attempting concealnt. Standard street toughs, likely Guild affiliation."
Lloyd kept walking. "Followers from the Hall? Sent to observe? Or interfere?"
"Intent unclear," Ken's disembodied voice murmured. "Possibly opportunists seeking leverage or hoping for failure. Low-level."
"Let them follow," Lloyd replied quietly, his voice firm. "Maintain shadow protocol. Observe them as they observe ." He paused, adding the crucial instruction. "If, and only if, they make a direct, hostile move to physically interfere or attack… eliminate the threat.... No I said wrongly, if they co direct at let face them. But eliminate them if they attack from behind. Swiftly. Silently. Remain unseen throughout."
"Understood, Young Lord," the whisper replied, carrying absolute certainty. "Threat neutralization paraters acknowledged."
Then, silence. The feeling of being watched by Ken shifted, becoming even more diffuse, more deeply hidden. But the other watchers, the clumsy opportunists trailing him… Lloyd could still feel their less subtle presence lagging behind. Fools. Let them watch. Let them follow him out of the city, into the rolling grasslands that led towards the Whispering Hills. They were irrelevant. Gnats buzzing around a dragon.
Two hours later, the city was a distant smudge on the horizon. Lloyd stood on a low rise overlooking a vast, undulating expanse of tall, whispering grass that gave the region its na. The wind sighed through the stalks, creating eerie, shifting patterns and carrying faint, unsettling sounds. The air here felt different – thinner, charged with a strange, low-level psychic static that prickled at the edges of his awareness. This was Wild Sheep territory.
Chapter : 66
He scanned the landscape, eyes narrowed, searching for movent. Fang sat alertly beside him, no longer the magnificent storm-wolf, but subtly altered. Lloyd had instructed him to dampen his overt lightning aura, letting his coat appear a more mundane, if still impressive, dark grey. The blazing golden eyes were shielded, appearing a more common deep brown. Camouflage. No need to advertise their true nature out here.
"See anything, Fang?" Lloyd murmured, trusting the wolf's enhanced senses.
Fang shifted, head tilting slightly, ears swiveling. He let out a low, almost inaudible whine, nudging Lloyd’s leg gently and looking towards a shallow depression thick with knee-high, rust-colored grass about half a mile away.
"Got it," Lloyd acknowledged. He focused his own senses, extending his Void awareness, feeling the subtle life signatures within the tall grass. Not just one. A small flock. Maybe… ten? Twelve? Perfect.
He began moving, not directly towards them, but circling, using the rolling terrain for cover, keeping the wind in his favor. Fang moved beside him like a silent grey shadow, perfectly attuned to his master's intentions. Lloyd felt the distant presence of the followers keeping pace, clumsy compared to Ken's undetectable passage. They were getting further from the city, further from help. Their mistake.
He reached a ridge overlooking the depression, peering cautiously through the swaying grass. There they were. Ten of them. Large, shaggy creatures, heads down, grazing peacefully. They looked almost ordinary, save for the sheer thickness and slightly greasy sheen of their wool, which seed to subtly warp the air around them, creating that faint psychic haze.
Okay, ti for pest control, version 2.0, Lloyd thought, kneeling behind the ridge line. Avoid the wool. Avoid the aura. Precision takedowns.
He focused, reaching into his bloodline, drawing on the hidden power. The air beside his outstretched hand shimred almost invisibly. Ten whisper-thin filants of steel extruded themselves from nothingness, hovering silently, vibrating with barely contained energy. He pushed his will into them, feeling the innate fire respond, heating them instantly, not to incandescence this ti – no need for flashy burns – but to a deadly, invisible sharpness, hot enough to slice through flesh and bone like parchnt.
Simultaneously, he sent a ntal command to Fang. 'Ready the Chirp. Target priority: fast movers, flankers. Synchronize on my release.'
Fang tensed, lowering his stance slightly. Lloyd felt the crackling energy build within the wolf, the faint, high-frequency precursor to the Thousand Chirp Strike beginning to hum just below the threshold of normal hearing.
Lloyd took a breath, centered himself. Targeted the lead sheep with five of his searing wires, aiming for the legs. Targeted the rearmost sheep with the other five, sa targets. Isolate. Immobilize.
He released his control.
The ten wires shot forward, silent, invisible streaks of deadly heat through the tall grass.
Almost simultaneously, the world erupted in the piercing shriek of a thousand birds as Fang launched himself down the slope like a grey thunderbolt, blue-white lightning exploding around his foreleg.
The lead sheep bleated in sudden alarm as invisible forces sliced cleanly through its front legs just above the knee. It collapsed instantly, unable to flee, its distressed cries panicked bleating from the others.
The rearmost sheep suffered the sa fate, its hind legs severed by the unseen wires before it could even register the threat. It went down, struggling futilely.
The eight sheep caught in the middle panicked, scattering in random directions, their movent churning up the psychic miasma.
But Fang was already among them.
Chirp-SLICE! The lightning claw flashed, connecting with the neck of a fleeing sheep. The creature dropped without a sound, spine severed.
Before the sound even fully registered, Fang was already redirecting, a blur of motion. Another sheep tried to bolt right – Chirp-SLICE! – collapsing mid-stride.
anwhile, Lloyd, still kneeling on the ridge, extended his Void control again. More wires, thinner now, like burning spider silk. He didn't aim to kill, just control. One wrapped around the back leg of a panicked sheep trying to circle around, tripping it into a clumsy fall. Another flicked out, slicing the tendons on the front leg of a fourth, bringing it down thrashing.
Fang, moving with impossible speed, took down two more with precise, lightning-fast strikes to the neck or head, the piercing chirp announcing each lethal blow fractions of a second before impact.
Four sheep remained, panicked, disoriented, trying to flee but hampered by the uneven ground and the terrifying speed of the grey predator relentlessly herding them. Lloyd used his wires again, tripping one, slicing a leg tendon on another.
Fang finished the last two. A final flash of azure lightning, a final piercing shriek, and then… silence. Broken only by the sighing wind and the faint, distressed bleating of the two initially immobilized sheep still alive but unable to move.
Reviews
All reviews (0)