Chapter 3: The Slime
The house of the mission was easy to find.
A crooked hut, with a broken fence, and white feathers scattered like confetti. The owner was an old woman, wrinkled, with a floral scarf on her head and a gaze sharper than a butcher’s knife.
"Another adventurer? Tsk. Those damn things ran off again."
She didn’t smile.
"If you bring them all back, I’ll pay. No missing feathers."
He nodded with the slightest movement.
Clear objective. Simple variable.
The chickens didn’t cooperate.He spent most of the morning chasing flying feathers, slipping in mud, getting pecked.One even flew at his face, scratching his cheek.
Aggressive AI. Consistent with design. But annoying.
He caught them one by one, holding them tightly enough not to kill them, but with no gentleness.
I’m not here to be nice. I’m here to complete the contract.
When he finally tied them back inside the pen, the old woman counted them with suspicious eyes.