Chapter 21- The Rock Is Back Baby
Yuuta squatted in front of the crawling, pitiful pigman.
The pigman, sensing the shift in light and the presence of someone ahead, struggled to lift his broken, bloodied head. His body was mangled—right arm twisted like a snapped tree branch, skin peeled and red, with blood dripping steadily from his elbow to the canyon dust. His left arm wasn’t any better, bone jutting out like a jagged branch, flesh flayed and trembling. And then there were his legs—flattened beyond repair, resembling crumpled sacks of bloody meat.
There was hope in his half-lidded eyes. Hope that one of his kin had found him. Hope that someone would carry him out of this misery.
Instead, he was greeted by the smug, ugly green face of a frog.
Yuuta leaned in slowly, like a snake savoring its prey, and brought his wide, flat face dangerously close to the pig’s snout. A smug grin curved his lipless mouth. Then he spoke.
"Hey there, bacon strip. Miss me?"
The pigman flinched from Yuuta’s breath, which smelled like a mixture of blood, dust, and more fucking dust. Yuuta wasn’t talking normally. No, he was practically breathing each word, dramatically slow, dragging every syllable across the pigman’s injured pride like sandpaper.
"You pigs are so damn persistent," Yuuta croaked, voice full of mock admiration. "If I were in your shoes—wait, you ain’t even got shoes—I’d have just killed myself in front of the mighty frog already. You know, cut your losses. Save yourself the embarrassment."
The pigman groaned, but his gaze locked on Yuuta. There was no mistaking it now—there wasn’t fear in his eyes. It was anger. Resentment. A desperate need to strike back.
Yuuta noticed. And he liked it.
"Oi," he said, narrowing his eyes and tapping the pigman’s swollen cheek with his three-fingered hand. "You listening, or do pigmen not have ears for greatness? Where are your manners? Huh? I made you this way, you know. Flattened those little sausage legs myself. And this is the face you give me?"