Chapter 16: The Salt Demon

  Age: 12 Years Old.Location: The King's Road – Border of Zone 2.

  Civilization smelled different than the swamp. The swamp smelled of rot, poison, and the circle of life. Civilization smelled of horse manure and unwashed travelers.

  I stepped onto the King's Road. It was a paved road, the stones worn smooth by centuries of carriage wheels. To me, it felt like walking on clouds. For five years, I had walked on mud that tried to suck me down to the center of the earth. Solid ground was a luxury I had forgotten.

  I walked slowly. My clothes were tight, tearing at the seams every time I swung my arms. My burlap sack clinked with the sound of bones and cores. My rusty cleaver, Nameless, bumped against my hip. Travelers gave me a wide berth. They looked at my pale skin, my dead eyes, and the bloodstains that I hadn't managed to scrub out of my shirt. They whispered. "Is that a beggar?""Look at his eyes. He looks like he killed his parents.""Don't make eye contact, honey."

  I ignored them. I was focused on one thing. My nose twitched. ‘I smell it.’ I could smell it on the wind. It wasn't the smell of flowers or food. It was the smell of Opportunity.

  Suddenly, a scream shattered the peace of the afternoon.

  "HELP! SOMEONE! ANYONE! I'LL PAY YOU! I'LL PAY YOU DOUBLE!"

  I stopped. The voice was coming from a small clearing off the side of the road, near the tree line. Usually, a Mob Character like me would ignore this. Getting involved in roadside trouble is a great way to trigger a "Save the Princess" quest or get stabbed by bandits. ‘Ignore it,’ I told myself. ‘Walk away. Go find a restaurant.’

  "NO! STAY BACK! TAKE THE MONEY! TAKE IT ALL!"

  Growl. A deep, guttural sound vibrated through the air. My stomach rumbled in response. I knew that growl. It wasn't a bandit. It was an Acid Wolf. And where there is one Acid Wolf, there is a pack. And where there is an Acid Wolf... there is meat that is slightly acidic but very tender if grilled correctly.

  "My lunch is calling me," I sighed, changing direction. "I guess I'll go see what the noise is about."

  The Golden Pig

  In the clearing, a tragedy was unfolding. A carriage a gaudy thing painted bright yellow sat with a broken wheel. But the carriage wasn't the issue. About fifty meters away, a boy was backed against a large oak tree.

  He was... round. He was a boy of twelve, but he had the circumference of a barrel. He wore clothes made of gold-threaded silk that probably cost more than a small village. His fingers were covered in rings. His name was Gareth Goldbloom. He was the third son of the Royal Treasurer, the wealthiest merchant family in the Kingdom. And currently, he was trying to bribe a pack of wolves.

  "Take it!" Gareth screamed, reaching into a bag on his belt. He pulled out a handful of gold coins. Solar Gold Coins. Each one was worth $1,000 in modern terms. He threw them at the wolves. Clink. Clatter. The coins hit the snout of the Alpha Wolf.

  "It's pure gold!" Gareth shrieked, sweat pouring down his face like a waterfall. "You can buy a whole cow with that! Ten cows! Just go buy cows and leave me alone!"

  The Acid Wolf (Rank 2) stared at the coins. It sniffed them. Gold has no scent. It has no flavor. The wolf looked back at Gareth. Gareth was soft. He was full of fat. He smelled like fear and lavender perfume. To the wolf, Gareth was a high-calorie donut.

  Grrrr. The Alpha Wolf bared its teeth, green saliva dripping from its jaws. The acid sizzled as it hit the grass. Six other wolves circled him, cutting off his escape.

  "No, no, no!" Gareth hyperventilated. "I'm bad for you! I'm high in cholesterol! My doctor says I have high blood pressure! You'll get heart disease!"

  The Alpha lunged.

  Whish.

  A sound cut through the air. It wasn't a roar. It wasn't a spell. It was the sharp, high-pitched whistle of air being split by a projectile moving at supersonic speed.

  SPLAT.

  The Alpha Wolf’s head didn't just break. It evaporated. One moment, it was mid-air, jaws open to bite Gareth's face. The next moment, it was a headless corpse, its momentum carrying it forward until it crashed into Gareth’s ample stomach.

  "GYAAAAH!" Gareth screamed, flailing as the heavy, wet body hit him. "I'M EATEN! I'M DEAD! TELL MY MOTHER I LOVE HER PIE!"

  Silence descended on the clearing. The other six wolves froze. They looked at their leader. Or rather, the red mist that used to be their leader. They looked at the direction the projectile came from.

  I walked out of the bushes. I was casually tossing another pebble in my hand. "You're noisy," I said, looking at the fat boy. "And you..." I looked at the wolves. My dead eyes narrowed slightly. "...you are interrupting my lunch."

  The wolves growled. They were Rank 2 beasts. They didn't fear humans. But animals have instincts. They looked at me. They didn't see a boy. They saw the Apex Predator of Zone 2. They smelled the blood of the Hydra on me. They smelled the genocide of thousands of their kin soaked into my very pores.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Whimper. One wolf tucked its tail. Then another. They backed away, eyes wide with primal terror. "Leave the corpse," I commanded.

  They didn't understand human language, but they understood Intent. They turned and ran. They ran faster than they had ever run in their lives, disappearing into the forest.

  I sighed. "Pity. I wanted a few more pelts. But carrying them is a hassle."

  I walked over to the fat boy. Gareth was still screaming, trying to push the headless wolf off his lap. "Get it off! Get it off! It's slimy!"

  I reached down. I grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck. It weighed at least 80 kilograms. I lifted it with one hand, as effortlessly as lifting a pillow. I tossed it aside near my sack.

  "Are you done screaming?" I asked.

  Gareth stopped. He opened one eye. Then the other. He looked at me. He saw a boy his age, wearing clothes that looked like they had gone through a shredder, covered in dirt, with eyes that looked completely dead inside. "Y-You..." Gareth stammered. He scrambled to his feet, jiggling. "You saved me!"

  "I saved my lunch," I corrected him. "You were just in the way."

  Gareth didn't listen. His merchant brain kicked in. He saw a savior. He saw power. "I am Gareth! Gareth Goldbloom! My father is the Royal Treasurer!" He fumbled with his belt. He pulled out a heavy leather pouch. "Here! Take this! It's a reward! There are 1,000 Solar Gold Coins in here! It's enough to buy a house! A mansion!"

  He thrust the bag of gold into my face. I looked at the gold. I frowned. "Gold..." I muttered.

  "Yes! Gold!" Gareth beamed. "Everyone loves gold!"

  I slapped his hand away. The bag flew out of his grip and hit a tree. Coins spilled everywhere.

  "I can't eat yellow rocks," I said, my voice filled with genuine disgust. "Get that trash out of my face."

  Gareth’s jaw dropped. He froze. His brain, which had been trained since birth to believe that Gold was God, stopped working. ‘Trash? He called 1,000 Solar Gold... trash?’ He looked at me with horror and awe. ‘Is he a Saint? A Monk who has transcended materialism? A Prince from a hidden Empire?’

  "But..." Gareth stammered. "If you don't want gold... what do you want?"

  My nose twitched again. The smell. It was coming from him. Specifically, from a small, white silk pouch tied to his left hip. It wasn't gold. It wasn't magic. It was something far more precious.

  I stepped closer. Gareth flinched. "P-Please don't eat me! I'm fatty! I'll clog your arteries!"

  I reached out. My hand moved faster than his eyes could follow. Snatch. I grabbed the small silk pouch from his belt.

  "Hey! That's my " Gareth started.

  I opened it. Inside was a fine, white crystalline powder. I dipped my finger in. The crystals sparkled in the sunlight. I put my finger in my mouth.

  Shock. It hit my tongue like a lightning bolt. Salinity. The sharp, clean bite of the ocean. The enhancer of flavor. The essence of life.

  Tears welled up in my eyes. Actual, real tears. I fell to my knees. "Salt," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "Real... high-grade... sea salt."

  Gareth blinked. "Uh... yes? That's my lunch salt. It's from the Northern Isles. I put it on my hard-boiled eggs..."

  "It's beautiful," I sobbed, licking my finger again. "For five years... I have eaten nothing but blood and mud. This... this is the taste of God."

  I stood up. I tied the pouch to my belt securely. "I'm taking this."

  "Okay?" Gareth was confused. "But... I offered you 1,000 Gold."

  "Gold is trash," I said, picking up the dead wolf carcass with one hand as if it were a stuffed toy. "This salt gave me happiness. Therefore, it is worth more." I looked at him with my dead, red eyes. "I saved your life. You gave me salt. We are even. Don't follow me."

  I turned and began to walk back toward the road. I had the salt. I had the meat. Tonight, I would feast.

  The Gamble

  Gareth Goldbloom stood alone in the clearing. He looked at the scattered gold coins on the grass rejected as trash. He looked at the back of the boy walking away.

  His brain, trained since birth in the art of commerce, began to spin. ‘He killed a Rank 2 Acid Wolf with a pebble. Instant kill. No Mana signature.’‘He rejected a fortune in gold without blinking.’‘He carries himself not like a beggar, but like a King who has lost his throne.’

  Gareth’s merchant instincts were screaming. This wasn't just a strong fighter. This was a Blue Chip Stock. A hidden gem. An unpolished diamond. If he walked away now, Gareth would save some money. But if he invested in this boy? If he built a relationship with him now, before he became famous? ‘High risk. Infinite reward.’ Business is all about gambling. And Gareth Goldbloom was a gambling addict.

  "I have to secure this connection," Gareth whispered. "I need to know who he is."

  He started running. His fat jiggled. His lungs burned. But he ran.

  "WAIT!" Gareth screamed. "WAIT FOR ME! SAVIOR!"

  I stopped and looked back, annoyed. "What now? I told you we are even."

  Gareth caught up, panting, wheezing, clutching his chest. "We... wheeze... are not even!" Gareth gasped. "You saved the life of the Royal Treasurer's son! A bag of salt is not enough interest on that debt!"

  He straightened up, trying to look professional despite the sweat. "I am Gareth Goldbloom. As a merchant, I cannot let a debt go unpaid. Let me accompany you! Let me carry your loot! Let me buy you dinner! The best steak in the Capital!"

  I stared at him. ‘Steak?’ My stomach growled. I looked at the heavy sack of bones I was dragging. It was getting annoying. "Fine," I said. "You carry the wolf."

  "Yes!" Gareth beamed. He grabbed the wolf's tail, struggling to lift it. "But before we seal this contract..." Gareth looked at me with sharp, calculating eyes. "May I ask the name of my partner?"

  I paused. I looked toward the distant walls of the Capital.

  "Cain," I said quietly. "Cain Valerius."

  Gareth froze. The wolf leg slipped from his sweaty hands. ‘Valerius?’ His eyes widened in shock. Everyone in the Kingdom knew that name. Since Saintess Elena had awakened, the public had become obsessed with the Valerius bloodline. They dug up every secret, every scandal. Everyone knew about the "Trash Firstborn." The rumors were specific: Duke Valerius suffered from "Mana Clogs," a genetic defect. The public assumed the genes had mutated in his son, resulting in a child born with absolutely Zero Mana. A genetic failure. A waste of skin. That was the only logical explanation.

  Gareth looked at the boy standing in front of him. He looked at the dead wolf that had been killed with a pebble. He looked at the terrifying, calm eyes that held no fear of death. ‘Trash? Genetic failure?’ Gareth almost laughed. The rumors were wrong. Or rather, they were missing the point entirely. This wasn't a broken boy. This was a monster in human skin.

  ‘This got a lot more interesting,’ Gareth realized, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knew, with the instinct of a born gambler, that following this boy would lead to one of two places: Absolute Hell, or the Highest Heavens. There was no middle ground. But he had already asked to follow him. He had placed his chip on the table. ‘A Merchant never withdraws a bet once the wheel starts spinning.’

  "Well?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you coming, Fatty?"

  Gareth grinned, a mix of terror and excitement stretching across his face. "Yes, Boss! Right behind you!"