Seeing the ape push through the sixth ring of fla, John chirped, "Attention, Hall of Parrots! Go and seal the safe passages of the fifth ring—fla them. Then do the sa to the fourth. Nah, that’s not enough. The fun’s about to reach its climax. Do a favor—just seal them all. After that, hunt the remaining beasts and collect the harvest."
The five parrots chirped back, singing a sweet song—an ode to blazing fire.
John rolled his eyes. "Tch, lunatics." But he let them have their mont. It was their stage, after all. As long as they followed orders, he didn’t care. At least their voices were easy on the ears, even if their lyrics were nonsense.
Shardah Franca, the silver wolf, had been steadily ascending the mountain when the lody reached him. Sweet and entrancing—yet he knew better.
After everything he’d seen today, the innocent facade of those birds no longer fooled him.
His paws froze mid-step. A cold sweat beaded across his skin, dampening his fur.
This wasn’t a song of joy. It was a requiem.
"Lunatics... singing their war songs." He muttered under his breath, trying to steady himself. "Anyone who calls that lody sweet is either deaf or deranged. It reeks of bloodlust."
He exhaled sharply, forcing his legs to move. With a wary glance at the mountain’s peak, he resud his ascent.
anwhile, the parrots wasted no ti. They reached the fifth ring of flas swiftly, dispersing as they began spitting fire over the safe passages. One by one, every possible route deeper into the labyrinth was sealed.
Mario the ape arrived just in ti to witness his escape routes vanish before his eyes. At that mont, he felt his spell unraveling, his body shrinking back to its original size.
"You’ve got to be kidding !" he cursed.
Pain and exhaustion crashed into Mario like a tidal wave. His limbs trembled, his strength draining as he collapsed onto his knees. A guttural groan tore from his throat before he coughed up blood—once, then again.
John, who had been thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, clicked his tongue in irritation. He spat to the side. "I was this close to hitting the climax, and you just had to ruin everything."
Shaking his feathers in frustration, he spat again. "Damn it. I was actually looking forward to witnessing a legendary Vajra Body Skill, like the ones I used to read about in manga. And you can barely maintain it for—what? Not even three minutes? Tch. What a complete letdown."
Just then, he spotted the silver wolf reaching the summit, pausing near a tree.
"Oh, welco, little Franc!" John called out, his tone light, almost hospitable.
"Greetings, Great Master of the Sky Dominating Clan. Once again, this junior is called Shardah Franca," the wolf barked, keeping his posture rigid and respectful.
"Franca... Ung... Nah, Franc is easier on the tongue." John flapped a wing dismissively. "Alright, Franc. Take a seat and enjoy the show. Watch how I squeeze every last bit of value out of your young master."
Shardah stiffened. His voice was asured, but the tension in his fra betrayed his unease. "Pardon my boldness, but... do you intend to take my young master’s life?"
"Nah, nah, nah, you’ve got it all wrong, little wolf." John chuckled, shaking his head. "Prince Anu is my guest here. However..." His eyes glead. "The only offense he committed was bringing a horde with the clear intent to trample my clan—the one I just founded, mind you. And that’s not sothing I can just let slide."
He tilted his head, smirking. "So, I’m going to squeeze every bit of value out of him while I can."
Then, lifting his head, John let out a sharp chirp. "Alright, enough with the act. The show’s already ruined thanks to that useless ape. Just co out already."
Silence. No response.
"Oh? So you still want to play hide-and-seek with ?" John sighed, shaking his head. "Fine."
He turned to his birds. "You see them too?"
"Yes, sir," Bubble replied, nodding firmly.
"What—what? I don’t see anything!" Woodie squawked, flapping her wings in confusion.
Both ignored her.
John clicked his beak. "Well? What are you waiting for? Greet them properly, Bubble."
Bubble had been itching for action all this ti. His red, beady eyes flicked skyward, scanning the clouds—then locked onto one in particular. A white puff floating harmlessly above. His gaze sharpened, filled with killing intent.
Just as he opened his beak, John let out another chirp, this ti dripping with mockery. "Don’t tell I’m being rude to my guests. I already warned you."
A translucent bubble shot from Bubble’s beak, soaring like a bullet toward the cloud. The instant it struck, it detonated with a sharp bang! The cloud burst apart—dispersing in wisps of mist—revealing three flickering shadows.
Three humanoid figures stood in midair, their presence now fully exposed.
Bubble prepared to launch another attack.
"Nope. That’s enough." John raised a wing, stopping him.
Bubble had been waiting for this mont for so long. Disappointnt was written all over his face as he protested, "Why, Master? Don’t you believe in my skill?"
"One shot is enough to reveal those who hide," John said calmly. "If you fire again, it would be a great disrespect to our guests. And in the Sky Dominating Clan, honor and etiquette are everything."
He paused briefly before adding with a sharp edge to his tone, "As for your second question—I don’t believe you? Then why do you think I keep you by my side all this ti?"
It was more of a scolding than a question.
Bubble flinched, then quickly nodded. "My bad, sir. It won’t happen again."
Satisfied, John turned his gaze to the three humanoids hovering in the air.
If my guess is correct, they must be seniors from the Three Fangs Palace. They’ve already achieved humanoid form—aning they’re ridiculously strong. Especially that one in front...
John’s sharp eyes studied the youth standing at the forefront. His presence alone was suffocating. The very air around him shimred, distorting his image—an overwhelming aura of raw power.
The three figures wore thick animal pelts, though their appearances were distinct:
The leader was strikingly handso, his crimson hair flowing like fire, matching his piercing red eyes. A lion tattoo marked his forehead—a symbol of dominance.
Beside him stood a burly, rough-looking man with a face only a mother could tolerate. Thick muscles bulged under his coat, and a bull tattoo branded his forehead.
The last figure had an eerie handsoness, his cunning eyes glinting with mischief. A python tattoo coiled over his forehead, adding to his sinister presence.
The muscular one barked, "Karin, your disguise technique is trash! This is what you were bragging about? The Snake Clan’s Camouflage Technique isn’t worth a single damn di! Next ti, stop running your mouth about it, okay?"
"Enough, Master Bull." The crimson-haired youth at the front interrupted, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Karin did his best. The birds have a unique way of sensing their surroundings. No technique is invincible—there will always be soone stronger than the one we assu is strong."
He turned toward the others, his gaze sharp. "Forget the trivialities. What do you think of this flock of birds?"
Master Bull snorted in disdain, his gaze seething with barely-contained rage. "They’re nothing. Those fires? Ha! Just a child’s ga. Say the word, Your Highness, and this bull will crush this place beneath my feet."
Karin grinned, his lips curling but said nothing in response to Master Bull’s words.
The crimson-haired youth blinked, his disappointnt apparent. He turned his focus back to the others, softening his voice but maintaining its edge. "We’re not here to start an unnecessary fight. Rember, we’re envoys. What’s your take, Venerable Karin?"
Karin didn’t rush to answer. It wasn’t in his nature to make rash remarks like Master Bull. Instead, he scanned the flock of birds, his eyes narrowing with growing concern. His instincts flared, urging him to proceed with caution—there was sothing profoundly dangerous about this place.
As his gaze shifted from one bird to the next, his brow furrowed. When his eyes landed on Blackie the woodpecker, a visible shiver ran through his body. Then, his focus moved to Woodie the naïve woodpecker, and a strange, unsettling aura radiated from her as well.
His eyes flicked to Bubble, and he instinctively took two steps back, unease gnawing at him. Finally, his gaze landed on the Mockingbird. His body froze, eyes wide, struck dumb by the intense power emanating from the creature.
The crimson-haired youth smiled with satisfaction, reading Karin’s reaction without needing any words. His observation spoke volus.
"Say," he asked, his voice a mix of amusent and curiosity, "are they good?"
Karin’s lips twisted into a smirk, but his response was gravely serious. "No—no, they’re not just good. They’re monsters hidden within those tiny, garden bird fras."
The crimson-haired youth’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming. "Then the real question is: are they worth befriending?"
Karin’s gaze hardened, his tone unwavering. "I don’t know. That’s Your Highness’s decision to make. But making enemies of them? That’s sothing we should avoid at all costs."
Reviews
All reviews (0)