My Players Are So Fierce

1301: 439.

Treasure Hunter Tear Flesh’s Ominous Premonition – Additional Chapter for “Jade Little Wheat” Brothers [6/25]_3

1301: 439.

Treasure Hunter Tear Flesh’s Ominous Premonition – Additional Chapter for “Jade Little Wheat” Brothers [6/25]_3

Lame Claw lay desolate upon the butcher’s block.

Although severely wounded when Hog brought it back, it was still alive.

Unfortunately, its eyes had already lost the luster of life.

It was dead.

Not at the hands of an enemy, but rather, after escaping death, it died at the hands of its own kind.

No wonder on the way back, Lame Claw had kept pleading with Hog to just leave it somewhere to die or simply put it out of its misery.

It had already known the fate that awaited upon its return to Pestilence Town.

Serving evil as it did, it understood better than anyone just how malevolent evil could be.

“Huh?”

Hearing the dispirited voice of Hog, Lame Claw turned its head around in a creepy 180° motion to stare at Hog while fully engrossed in its work.

Still those two eyes that couldn’t quite focus, still that drooling mouth, still that insane posture, but after numerous “transactions,” Lame Claw had become much “kinder” to Hog.

Perhaps in its eyes, Hog was some kind of “miracle-working” Assistant, always able to help it acquire various desperately needed yet out-of-reach amenities.

Like right now, the vampire heart that had been soaked in voodoo, oddly swollen and emitting a faint red and green glow, being inserted by Lame Claw into Lame Claw’s corpse.

“Why say farewell?

Are you about to die?

Hog, you are a good friend, and I would be quite sad if you died.

Do you want me to implant the ‘Necromancer’ seed in advance?”

The stitched-up Lame Claw spoke indistinctly:

“This way, if you were to die, you wouldn’t truly perish.

You would be resurrected by the power of death as an eternal ‘Necromancer,’ and I would keep you by my side as an Assistant.

Your constant frustration over being short and overlooked would also be resolved.

If you wish, I could remove your brain and put it in the skull of a Bear Goblin.

That way, you could possess the strength you’ve always wanted.

Don’t worry, the process is not painful at all!

Yes!

None of the ones I’ve operated on before ever screamed in pain, so it surely doesn’t hurt.”

“Forget it, I’d rather not experience such a horrifying treatment.”

Hog curled his lip.

It rolled its eyes and pleaded:

“Tear Flesh has sent me to attack those fierce Transia People, saying that I should atone for my failures.

But I know this mission means certain death, so can I get what might be my last bit of aid from here?

I mean, I want to use up the favor I stored with you to obtain things that could transform my people once and for all, at least allowing these poor souls to serve the Pestilence Clan one last time before they die.”

“Ha, don’t be so pessimistic.”

Lame Claw seemed to truly value Hog.

Seeing Hog so desperate, it stopped its ongoing corpse crafting and, while taking off its bloodstained gloves, beckoned Hog into its cluttered living quarters, resembling a dump, and started rummaging through a heap of strange objects.

Several minutes later, Lame Claw pulled out a filthy bag from the bottom of the heap and tossed it to Hog.

The Blood Claw Chief looked inside and saw a dozen bottles filled with oddly colored liquids.

It looked at Lame Claw suspiciously, to which Lame Claw explained:

“This is a potion I found in Tear Flesh’s Ghost Mystic Manual.

I’m not sure if I made it correctly, but I’ve fed it to my dying Throne Wolf before.

That ferocious beast, as if injected with tangible rage, managed to kill several Goat Man acolytes before it actually died.

So I believe it must be useful.

If your cowardly underlings can’t win glory for the Wolf People on the battlefield, then give them this to drink.

But not too much, just a sip each.

They will surely die after drinking it, but this stuff will ensure their journey to death is quite ‘spectacular’.”

“Really that powerful?”

Hog’s eyes widened as he looked at the dirty bag and those strangely colored potion bottles in his hands.

Grinning from ear to ear, he accepted them and, before leaving, said to Lame Claw:

“Um…

can I get the recipe?

If I survive, maybe I could make a comeback in the Dark Mountain Range by selling this stuff.”

“Ow, the recipe, let me think.”

Lame Claw scratched its Frankenstein-like stitched scalp vigorously and then muttered as it searched through the pile of junk again.

Unable to find it, it stamped its foot in frustration, tore off a piece of animal skin, scribbled on it, and handed it to Hog.

The mad craftsman patted its chest and promised:

“It’s definitely correct!

Although it’s possible I’ve mixed up some of the steps and I can’t quite remember the dosage of the core materials, I can assure you that with this, you can make something very similar.

Ah, my formidable searcher Hog, I wholeheartedly hope you survive this suicidal battle so we can continue our pleasurable exchanges.

I mean, I still have so many ‘ideas.’

It’s a pity that the old, stupid, and stubborn Tear Flesh can’t satisfy my pursuit of the necromantic arts.

Tch, if it weren’t for my soul box being in its possession, I’d have started anew already.”