Chapter 117: Practice
"It was definitely fifty-seven," Nox said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. "I counted."
Mela looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel. "You did not! There were at least sixty-five of those corrupted boars, and I personally dispatched thirty-three of them with my needles. That means you only got thirty-two."
"Nah," he aid with a lazy shrug. He was having way too much fun with this. "A bunch of yours just ran off with needles sticking out of them. They probably got better. Doesn’t count. My kills were clean. One-shot punches to the face."
He looked down at his own fist, admiring it. "Also, thirty-three is a weirdly specific number. You sure you’re not just making stuff up to feel better?"
"I am a master of my craft!" she shot back, her voice getting a little too loud. "I know precisely how many I felled!"
’Hook, line, and sinker,’ he thought, a grin spreading across his face. ’This is way more fun than just walking in silence.’
Serian let out a quiet sigh from a few feet behind them. "Does it truly matter who was victorious over the boars? We are a team. The victory belongs to all of us."
"It matters because he’s a liar!" Mela snapped, not even looking at her.
"It matters because she’s a sore loser," he countered, his grin widening. "It’s okay, pointy-ears. Maybe you’ll get the high score next time. Keep practicing."
Mela’s face went from angry to furious. Her hand moved to her blowgun, but she stopped herself. He could see her physically restraining herself from just shooting him. It was hilarious.
"Fine," she finally spat out, her voice dripping with venom. "You can have your imaginary victory. But your ’efficiency’ means nothing if you lead us into a trap." She pointed ahead, her expression changing from angry to genuinely concerned. "You’ve been leading us west for the last hour. Do you even know where you are going?"