NOVEL NEXT Chapter 96: Why do you think change comes?
The call of Dump Crows echoed from the distance, as Griffen reached out for the loaf. His dried, scratchy skin scraped across the surface of the bread as he wrapped his fingers around it. Wetting his lips, Griffen's eyes shifted to Lincoln.
They hadn't accepted him, and now they wanted him to prove himself. A sigh escaped his lips. How could Lincoln's friends be so cruel? Was Lincoln's word not good enough? Griffen had to show them, prove to them that Lincoln hadn't made a bad choice.
It's not right. Lincoln is a smart man. He was the one who brought me from this darkness and continues to show me the way forward. I mustn't disappoint him. I can't.
Griffen nodded, the chilly morning air brushing his cheeks. It was barely a question—he didn't need to think. Sitting in the dump and dying, or helping Lincoln while also being able to feed himself. It was a no-brainer. "I'll do whatever you need me to do. I won't let you down, I promise."
He pulled the bread closer, parting his lips as the hard crust brushed against them. With a crunch, his teeth sank through the dry layer and pierced into the soft goodness beneath. A sweet taste covered his tongue as he moved the chunk around his mouth. It was so good.
"I know you will," Lincoln said, raising a hand and resting it on Griffen's shoulder. "As a matter of fact, I have a job for you as soon as you're done. And I think it will go quite a way in getting everyone to accept you." Lincoln's lips parted in a beautiful, toothy grin.
Gulping down the morsel of food in his mouth, Griffen held Lincoln's gaze. "Thank you."
—- —- —- —-
A wet squelch echoed around the tunnel, followed by a soft slicing and a thump. Hector jumped back, static flickering through the surrounding air, as his fingers wrapped around the end of a purple knife, dripping blood onto the cold stone.
His gaze moved from the Hairless Rat corpse, pooling blood onto the floor, then shifted to the two others, who stepped back hesitantly. He'd ambushed them a few seconds earlier, after spotting them with his [Street Reader] Talent.
He'd taken up the task because of an interesting Talent he'd received the other day that was centred on cooking. And Hector hoped he could use the meat of the Hairless Rats to test it out. They were plentiful down here, and if he could make use of them to gain a buff or two, that would be great.
That and the fact that we might be able to sell their parts. These hairless rats might soon become an important asset to our mercenary company.
Hector reached into the back of his mind and pulled on the [Volt Harness] Talent. It was time to end this. Static crackled down his legs in a dense wave. In less than a breath, he shot forward. His blade bit deep into the side of one rat, its skin opened up, and it let out a squeal.
Spinning on his heel, he shot for the next one, stepping past its lunge. He slammed the knife forward, squelching it deep into the rat's eye socket with a wet pop, hitting bone. It flopped instantly, like someone had cut its string. The scent of metallic blood crawled up Hector's nose, with undertones of rot.
Raising his arm, Hector wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, grimacing at the blood that came away on it. This wasn't exactly a clean job. But he'd gotten what he needed.
Blood pooled beneath all three of the corpses, coming out in small waves. He couldn't bleed it out here. If he used [Blazing Arsenal] to char it to a crisp, that might work. Though there probably wouldn't be much meat left over. Sighing, Hector dissipated the purple knife, dropped to one knee, and reached out to the forelimbs of the rat in front of him.
Dragging it back to the base would be relatively easy. He just—
————————————————
————————————————
A smile split Hector's lips. Excitement rushed through him as he gripped the rat's paws and stood up. Now he had to get back so he could put more Talents on to grow. He grunted, taking one step back, then another. After a moment, his footsteps fell into a steady rhythm.
The darkness pulsed around him. His eyes glanced around at every faint shape that moved. If something came at him, that would be fine, but being caught on the back foot when it did would be more than frustrating. He didn't have a torch at the moment. The only thing that guided him was memory and the short ten feet he could see with his cultivation-enhanced vision.
But nothing came at him. Eventually, he passed by a flickering wave of shadow, like stepping onto the beach after coming out of the ocean. They put up two torches outside the entrance to the hideout. The light they gave off would keep most creatures down here away.
"Hector?"
Pausing, Hector turned. His eyes landed on Jodie, standing outside the entrance of the hideout. Strapped to her back was a backpack. In her hand, she held a short metal sword, glinting faintly in the torchlight as she shifted.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
What's she doing here? And where did she get that sword from?
He and Mirae were good on supplies for at least a few days. So she couldn't be here for that, no. She had to be here for something else.
Hector greeted the girl, and the two of them made their way into the hideout. He then dumped the dead rat into a corner of the cave. It was best they gave it a minute before cutting it open. With Jodie there, she could do it with the claws she'd used last time.
With that done, Hector took a seat on the bundle of cloth, and Jodie did the same. Mirae was off to the side gathering the grim-grain they had, and some herbs Jodie had purchased for them. It would have been nice to go to the Talent Garden first, but Jodie seemed like she wanted to talk—which was relatively rare.
Jodie let out a sigh, her gaze levelling on Hector, before shifting away to the side. "I want to move down here with you guys."
"Huh?" Hector looked his ginger-haired friend over. "Why? Is something wrong at home?"
She shook her head, locks of ginger shifting and falling off her shoulder. "I spend a lot of time down here as is, and I've noticed I've made a lot of progress, at least in my combat comprehension."
"So it's a good training spot," Hector said, his gaze wandering over to Mirae. The white-haired girl had crouched down and combed her hair behind her ear. Hector had an idea where she stood on the matter. But it was far from simple.
Jodie was a strong connection to the dojo, and if she were gone, who would they have? Lincoln? The boy barely turned up before all this mess. Now, it was unlikely he'd been there since it all started. To top it all off, Hector had tasked him with figuring out a way to incorporate the remaining Dump Guard into their activities.
If Jodie were down here, that would break the last connection to the dojo. Hector hung his head. "And your parents, would they just allow you to leave like this?"
Jodie nodded. "I've told them I'll be gone for a few days while the dojo is out. They were fine with it. My dad even gave me this," she said, raising the sword she'd arrived with. "I think they have some suspicions of what I'm up to. But they just told me to be safe."
Hector nodded. His dad would have thrown a fit if he'd suggested something like this, let alone actually doing it. Jodie's parents were perhaps a bit too comfortable with her doing what she wanted. "You said the dojo is out?" Hector asked, raising a brow. It was rare for it to be closed.
"Yeah, Instructor Kamble is going to be away for a few days. And with you no longer around, and Lincoln never really being there, that would have just left me to guide the classes. With everything going on right now, I think it would be best if I just focused on getting stronger."
I can understand that. Right now, strength is the only way for us to protect ourselves.
"So, you are just staying down here for a few days?"
Jodie let out a low whine, her eyes shifting to the side as her fingertips tapped against each other. "I was hoping to stay down here longer than that. This is the only place that I can think of that would allow me to get to grips with my Battle Intent—aside from going to the Phoenix Company. But that's not happening." She gave him a weak smile. "I hope it's alright."
From the corner of his eye, Hector caught Mirae nodding furiously. It made sense. At times, it could get lonely down here. Jodie being around made the place a bit more lively. But the major problem was that they'd have to consume a bit more in the way of resources.
The fire crackled, spitting out embers and popping. A soft wave of heat brushed across Hector's cheek. Traces of burning wood—too thin to properly smell—just about made it to him, before being purified by the [Gentle Sanctuary] Talent.
Bringing a finger to his lips, Hector let out a sigh. "We are going to have to buy a bit more stuff, but I think it should be fine. My only worry is: how will we stay connected to the dojo if you spend all your time down here?"
Jodie quirked a brow. "Why would you… Oh, recruitment? Well, we have Harry. And even better than that." Jodie turned her head towards Mirae. "Your friend Pippa was actually asking about you the other day."
Hector blinked as a smile slipped onto Mirae's lips. How could he forget about those two? If there was anyone in the dojo that Hector could trust to come into the sewers and fill them in, it would be them. While he got along with everyone in the dojo, no one was as close to him as Lincoln and Jodie.
Even Sasha wasn't. Able was a good kid, but he was almost like a mascot. But Harry and Pippa were different.
Shifting his leg a little, Hector adjusted himself. "I guess we will have to pay the two of them a visit?"
"Really!" Mirae yelped, hopping to her feet.
Hector nodded, turning to Jodie and giving her a coy smile. "Now, want to help me cut up some meat?"
—- —- —- —-
Zion scrambled back, scuttling over loose trash, splinters biting into his palms. His back slammed into a mud wall that hadn't been there seconds before, as his chest rose and fell. Walking towards him was a boy in long brown trousers, a brown tunic and a mop of messy brown hair—Lincoln.
The bruise on Zion's cheek flared, as images of the beating the boy had given him last time came to mind. All for not giving enough information on Adrien. A boy walked in front of Lincoln—more puppy, if Zion was honest. The guy kept glancing back at Lincoln as if he'd give him a treat.
Bracing against the mud wall, Zion shook as he glanced around. Preoccupied, a few other slum rats drifted around the trash piles nearby—none of them even looked over. They sifted through the trash looking for something to sell, eager to get their next meal. Zion had been doing the same until he spotted Lincoln walking his way.
"What do you want? I told you everything you wanted to know," Zion pleaded. He could run, but the fact that Lincoln didn't seem to be fazed by this wall, which appeared out of nowhere, meant he knew what it was. If he'd formed it, that could only mean one thing. But that should be impossible. He didn't want another beating. Even Adrien didn't hurt him the way Lincoln did.
The short brown-haired boy in front of him, wearing little more than a sack, spoke instead. "Shut up, you. He hasn't spoken to you. So why are you speaking?"
Zion blinked, his gaze shifting to Lincoln. The older boy shrugged, a playful smile curling onto his lips as he raised a hand for the short boy to continue.
And so he did, nodding with all the eagerness of a well-trained dog. He stepped forward, crunching on a piece of trash and clearing his throat. "Lincoln has seen fit to help you out. He wants to raise you beyond the shambles of the life you live and give you the chance to thrive."
Zion met the boy's gaze. The only thing in there was devotion, mixed with a hint of madness. It was the kind that was rarely seen in the slums.
"Now, decide," the boy said, puffing out his chest. "Do you want to live like a dog, or thrive like a man?"