The Apprentice of Ouroboros [Monster Evo LitRPG Adventure]

Earlier…

Hadley had started to form an opinion of Jurik as they rode their horses to the manor of the Marisano patriarch, taking a gravel road through a swath of dense forest.

That opinion being, he could be subtly funny and had a deadpan delivery.

“Let me get this right,” Hadley laughed, trying to envision what he’d told her. “You spent two days killing kobolds by getting them to kill each other?”

“They’re very particular about impressing their dragon overlords. Now, I would never go toe-to-toe with a dragon again, but I can tell you that stealing kobolds’ things while they aren’t looking is the best way to provoke fights between them. Food, personal items, little dragon totems that they make out of just about anything.” He pulled one out of his satchel to show her.

“Again? You fought one?”

“How do you think I got turned into melted cheese?” he grinned.

Hadley stammered in response. “I-I mean, I assumed it was some big secret. Did you really fight a dragon?”

“No. No, the truth is far more mundane. I made a mistake once and almost died as a result. But the Divines had different plans for me. I survived.” He rubbed at the waxy-looking skin on his right arm, as if he could still feel the sear from the flames.

“Gonna tell me about it?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, any more than you want to talk about Felix,” he responded in a slight counterjab.

She turned her gaze forward. Thinking about that monster was something she knew could utterly consume her, if she let it.

But Felix needed to die. Even if it weren't by her, it would give her peace of mind. “Yeah. I uh…I’ve been told that I should let it go. As if it’s just that easy. How can you tell someone still hurting from having their world ripped apart to move on? How can anyone let injustice sit unanswered?” she asked quietly.

“Is that what you want? Justice, or revenge?”

“I don’t know. Whichever one sounds less bad.” She glanced at him, watching him peering ahead, ever vigilant to observe the surroundings. “So, what about you? I get this feeling that your mistake didn’t cost just you, though.”

He didn’t respond at first, other than a solemn look crossing his face, and the faintest of breaths fading in the breeze. “No. The worst mistakes are those where others pay the price. And you have to live with that, find a way to coexist with that darkness. Or it’ll tear you up from the inside out.”

“So, are you coexisting with it?”

“Let’s just say I’m on talking terms with that darkness. For now. Anyway, as I was saying, kobolds can be easily tricked. Take this totem, for example. They prize gems and other spiritual items like this so much that the theft of them can get them fighting, even killing each other. Though unlike goblins, you can’t pull that trick too often. They wisen up.”

She squinted at it, trying to focus on it with the horses in motion relative to one another. “Dark oak carving, with little metal bits for claws? It’s a cute, itty bitty dragon,” she said with a smile, eying the two-winged, four-limbed representation of what she viewed as the apex monster of the Varadur–if they could actually convert more. “How many dragons do the Varadur have, do you think?”

“Not many. They’re one of the few species smart enough and dangerous enough to repel the Varadur invasion. No one messes with dragons without exacting a heavy price,” Jurik said in an almost scholarly tone. “Plus, dragons hold an immense grudge. When they aren’t squabbling with one another, they can focus efforts and rain ruin on their foes.”

“Or burning villages. Or raiding liveries. Or just being general terror lizards.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “You know I heard that the Valos high command has been sending out more scouts and negotiators to monstroid species, those that aren't explicitly dangerous to humanity. They’re getting desperate for allies. Could they ally with dragons?”

“If we could reach terms? I…would support that.” He clenched his flame-scarred hand tighter. “They should have started the day Arivol fell, but I guess even pride overrides survival to the detriment of many.”

He glanced around, as if looking for something again. “Keep an ear out. We’re getting close.”

The main road headed west was out of sight, and Jurik kept looking around warily. He’s either that uneasy, or he knows something I don’t. Think, Hadley, what’s out of place?

The scout examined the roadway and noted tracks both to and from. They included horse and carriage tracks on both sides of the gravel path, with deeper indentations from larger wagons. “So, what do you put our odds of this being the scene of a crime?” Hadley asked casually. “I don’t deal with lords. Hell, I don’t deal with annoying soldiers very well, either.”

“Seventy-five percent chance of crimes. It just might not be the crimes we’re interested in,” Jurik said, holding the reins tightly with his chestnut colored horse. “Neska did make a good case. Her and Juni. The toxins involved would have been good for staging a suicide, with strong evidence to strengthen that narrative. Serkin is haunted. And I bet it has something to do with Risha’s last actions before she left the academy.”

“Last time I saw him in passing at the academy, before he was occupying a medical center bed, he was flushed and reeked of spirits. But he could still hold a conversation. Or a lecture.” Hadley let out a sound of disgust. “I’m getting some unnerving vibes that Risha did some terrible, terrible things. And I think she deliberately screwed with Neska’s memories to cover that up.”

“That’s your theory?”

“Neska was definitely at the academy. She’s trained in archery and is a damn good shot. Add in her work with alchemy and rituals, even discounting that she spent a year disguised as a familiar. I won’t lie, I’m a little giddy about testing her, uh…” she trailed off and looked at the wrapped arrows. “Alchemically enhanced weapon packages.”

“But you think information was withheld from her? Why?”

“Because Risha was willing to do anything to help humanity survive. Even make monsters. Maybe she was one herself. It’s how she knew how to hurt them.”

Jurik frowned at that idea. “I don’t know about that. Want to hear my theory?”

“Go ahead, master hunter,” Hadley said, exaggeratedly gesturing to him.

“Risha was too clever not to have planned for her own demise. She laid out the groundwork for Neska to follow. The crystal, too. I made a casual inquiry about those crystals. I think…there’s a portion of Risha’s memories or even a soul fragment within it. She and Serkin knew the capabilities of those crystals very well.”

Hadley squinted at her. “So, why is it that the Academy members haven’t said anything? Did she deliberately ghost everyone?”

“I think it’s because she was afraid of what some of her knowledge might do. Not just surviving the war, but the consequences of the powers she unleashed, too."

Hadley let out a puff of air, annoyed. “And Neska is the culmination of all her efforts, and the poor girl has the world's most difficult task. Cripes, our girls had to grow up quick. Wolf packs, giant snakes, assassins, and a populace majority that don’t distinguish them between humanity’s best hopes, and monsters.”

She gripped her reins until her knuckles turned white. “I hate it. Even if we somehow win this war or negotiate a peace with the Varadur–if that’s even possible–we’re going to be all sorts of messed-up people for a generation. The Awakened in particular. What’s gonna be left for those two by the time we turn this around?”

“I have faith in humanity. We persevere when failure should be all but assured,” he reasoned. “Personally, I like Neska taking the initiative; this is a strong lead. But it’s a calculated risk. If she keeps drawing attention like this…it might attract other unwanted elements.”

“Worse than the Seekers? I was ready to go to their quarters in Rivilat and drag them out into the street for what they did. Though it sounds like Neska had her fun with them and humiliated one disgrace to a uniform. I’m proud of that.”

“She could have killed him.”

“Before, I would have said that was the least bad option…Now, I think it’s more telling that she didn’t. Strength is about not giving in to the easy way to do things,” Hadley reminded him. “I don’t know where she gets these notions sometimes. That she instinctively thinks there’s a better way? Do our enemies deserve dignity? Sometimes I think the only thing Varadur deserves is an arrow through the heart.”

“But you don’t firmly believe that.”

She gazed forward, the scenery bobbing gently as the horse brought them closer to the private domain. “I want to believe it.” Because it’s an easy thing to believe. But I can’t anymore. And I don’t know why.

Jurik put the small figurine away. “Not all monsters are evil. That applies to both the native specimens and those that the Varadur are consuming and transforming. Evil is a choice. Evil is what guides them.”

“Jurik…do you think Neska would ever be compromised by this damn Voice thing?” she asked. “I worry about her. She’s strong-willed; I’ve seen enough proof for that. This soul resistance thing she’s slowly studying could help…but how do you fight something that can touch the darkness of the corners of your mind and make you want to do awful things?”

“All the evidence thus far points to an external force guiding the Varadur, or at least the powerful ones; Something in the Interface either broke horribly, or someone deliberately broke it.” He glanced her way, and she scrunched her brow. “What if Lachmir created another Divine Beast, one that enthralls other monsters? All monsters theoretically are made or descend from one of them, and there are many.”

“One man didn’t destroy a nation and nearly plunge a whole damn world into ruin. I’m so sick of everyone blaming Lachmir like he’s the one responsible for everything. He had help and resources from an entire empire. They collectively dug their own grave.”

“But, what if this was his goal altogether? What if this was not an accident or case of catastrophic errors?” The veteran’s eyes burned bright with the conviction he had in that idea. “What if they know there is a loose thread that Neska can unravel, bit by bit?”

“One lamia isn’t taking down a Divine, Jurik. Not even one as clever as Neska, or her slowly growing orbit of friends.” She had curled her fingers into her thigh when she’d spotted the wolfling who had started hanging out with her, and the first instinct she’d seen them was to grab her bow, hand halfway to her quiver.

And she stopped, for the sole reason that Neska seemed to trust them. Those five seconds of impulsive thought bothered her, even days later.

Jurik smiled politely. “She’ll find a way. I think the only thing she’s lacking is knowledge, and maybe some level of power.”

Hadley nodded, steering the horses around a large pothole in the road. “But for real, you think Lachmir, what, deliberately broke the world? No one’s ever said that. That’s crazy.”

“It’s a theory, at least.” He returned his gaze to the woods, as if searching for something again.

She knew something was out there. A faint smell, carried by the wind. Something rotten. It was exceedingly faint, and perhaps the only reason she picked it up at all was her [Keen Observer] abilities she’d picked up.

She wrinkled her nose. “Hey, Jurik. What smells noxious and sweet at the same time?”

He slowed his horse. “A corpse, usually. Why?”

She stopped the horse and picked up some loose sand from amongst the gravel on the road. She tossed it into the air, then followed the direction the wind carried it from. She halted only to tether the horse to a tree.

“Something dead. Something big, maybe. I see a small clearing beyond that passage of woods, about a thousand or two thousand feet in.

“You think something's out there?” he asked.

“Yep. Something worth checking out.” She unstrapped her weapons from her saddle and motioned him to follow. “Also smells like…something from a barn or a stable.”

He sniffed the air, then shrugged. “I don’t smell it.”

“You wouldn’t. Have you put many points into Perception?”

He grunted. “Not enough at times. Most of it goes toward my physical attributes, and my Soul attribute. One minus of my particular class: It’s specialized, so I can’t do everything flawlessly.”

They crept through the underbrush in silence. Hadley slunk through it, barely disturbing a single leaf, and arched her boots over gnarled roots and twisting boughs that most people would run right into, were they in a hurry.

That scent of death and stables. It was much closer. A cloying, awful stench of something ripe with decay. She followed the scent with Jurik behind her, his hand always near his weapon.

Ever the cautious one. It was no accident he’d endured as long as he had in this war, when those younger and faster had died in far larger numbers.

Sunbeams came through the forest canopy in small shafts of light, illuminating small bugs flitting about. But the beauty was marred by something odious. Disturbed earth in a low mound lay by the edge of the grassy clearing, the blades almost as high as her waist, with small bugs buzzing about and hiding in the shade.

Jurik could smell it now. That rot of something straight out of a battlefield with fresh corpses as the world reclaimed what it had built up. A rotting stench that could have been straight from a fresh battlefield as the world began to claim the corpses of the dead.

She pointed to the mound of earth, and a crude wooden shovel lay nearby, hidden behind a few tree limbs. “Well, Jurik, I’d say someone dug a grave, but I don’t know what person would be this big,” she said, and nearly gagged as the smell permeated her composure.

No. She wouldn’t submit to this stench. She grabbed the shovel and started digging, with the warrior standing guard.

“I don’t think it’s a humanoid, not even a drakean would be this tall,” he said, eyeing the mound as she scooped the dirt. Someone had tried to pack it down, but whatever they’d buried, more than took up the displaced space. “I also have tracks around the loose dirt, pretty fresh. With no rain and the fact that the loose soil is dried out, likely to be a day or two.”

“I saw those. Two males, heavy, thick boots. Their tracks go to and from this mound.” She broke out into a light sweat as she dug deeper. “Jurik, check your map. How far did we walk through the woods?”

“About a good fifteen minutes or so. Amazing, you picked this up.”

“Keen senses. I also saw predator tracks beelining to this spot, too. Something had already tried to dig it up,” she said, pointing to the disturbed dirt. “They didn’t keep at it long enough, because they ran off back into the forest.”

She plunged the spade bit in, pushing her foot in to gain leverage. The stench was growing only stronger, and she sucked in a breath through her mouth. Then, she hit something soft, and the shovel wouldn’t go farther.

“Ten gold says I think I know what’s big enough for this.”

“Twenty gold says I already know.” He stooped down to pick up something shiny and white hidden in the blades of grass and showed it to her. “Recognize it?”

She pulled one last shovel of earth away and grimaced before glancing at Jurik, wearing a grim expression on his face. He held up a large fanned feather about two feet long, snow-white with small black banding.

“Yep. I’d say we’re on the right track,” she said, gagging as the stench of the three-day-dead griffin stared back at her with eyes already chewed out by vermin, giving her an empty stare as the meat slowly melted back into the earth. “Guessing this just changed how we’re about to approach Marisano.”

Jurik was already on his arcane relay, nodding. “Very carefully, I’d say. That species of griffin is consistent with the Academy stable griffins. Looks like our two detectives were right.”

A stillness filled the air in that moment. Something hid in the silence, and Hadley’s ears perked up. She might be mostly human, but her fey ancestry still left them slightly longer than most.

A quiet inhaled breath. Close range. Off to her right, just by the tree line.

She dropped the shovel, rolled, and unslung her bow, searching for a target. She spotted a shabby mass of leaves and branches near the base of the trunk that moved in a way inconsistent with the wind. Something that didn't look right.

She drew the arrow back and fired.