The priest's frustration reverberated in his words, his voice laden with exasperation.
"Aargh, for fuck's sake, it's you," he began, his face contorted with a mix of surprise and fear. "Oh, man, I lost my fucking marbles! That really startled me, you know?" His growing fear became palpable, casting a shadow over his features.
In an attempt to ease the tension, the monk swiftly raised his open palms, a gesture of peace. This prompted the guards to loosen their grip on their sheathes, their wary gazes shifting ever so slightly.
"Calm down, okay, mate? I'm not here to slit your throat," the monk assured, his voice carrying a touch of reassurance. Yet, despite his attempt to quell the rising anxiety, the priest continued to gesture violently, his frustration unabated.
"I'm on the fucking edge today, I nearly got bit myself; do you know how many injuries our men took? It's a damn miracle you finally showed up! You know, the—"
The monk's fury surged within him, eclipsing the priest's words. With a sharp bark, he silenced the priest and the entire surrounding area fell into an abrupt hush. "Shut the fuck up!" he commanded with force, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. The sudden silence that followed was almost tangible. "Thank you," he then said.
Yongsheng wei Jianyu advanced slowly towards the group, his measured steps leaving a calculated distance between himself and Amano Seitaro, not out of consideration, but rather due to the presence of the two town guards flanking the priest. Before the monk could speak, the priest interjected in an apologetic tone.
"L-look, I know I-I owe you a couple ch-chromosomes—" he stammered, his voice tinged with nervousness.
"Seitaro?" Yongsheng's tone held a note of impatience, prompting the priest to continue.
"...b-but I promise to rep-r-repay you very-very soon, alright? It's not that big of a—"
"Seitaro!" Cutting off the priest's rambling, Yongsheng glanced down and to the side, displaying his disinterest in the priest's personal affairs. "I'm not here for the money, really," he went on, his voice tinged with nonchalance. "I just don't want any of the Realms in the Old Omniverse overrun with Chromonsters."
Seitaro's hope-filled expression flickered briefly before he regained his composure. "So you're going to help us with-"
"Yes, you're perceptive as ever," Yongsheng remarked, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. He kicked a flat stone, watching it skid off to the side. "But I'm still not going to do it for free. You know? Scam me once, shame on you, scam me twice, off wit' yer' 'ead, right? Something like that."
Seitaro nodded fervently. "Of course, I will pay anything," he responded promptly, eager to comply with the warrior's terms.
"...Right, so first of all, tell me about the situation." Yongsheng turned his gaze to the left, surveying the expansive field behind the church. A crude wooden fence enclosed the area, while in the distance, a small but vibrant forest beckoned. Other than that, there appeared to be nothing particularly noteworthy.
"So, erm... So I went outside at sunrise to sow rice, as usual," the priest began, his voice tinged with unease at the memories. "Then I saw the tall grass tremble in the distance, as if something crawled through it from the forest. There was no wind, so I thought maybe it's a small critter, but... then a... I don't even know, it was horrifying, a tiny, yet unbelievably repulsive and foul creature with a human face ran into my field, screeching. I just saw it, and then I ran back home... I didn't really come back there myself, but, uhm... our people tried to help, and... yeah," he finished, his nervous fidgeting betraying his fear.
"Alright-o, ignoring all the dramatic descriptions, I have a pretty good idea of what it is," Yongsheng remarked, his gaze drifting upwards as if lost in thought. "That should pretty much be a salamandraka, so your guys were correct in informing me. How many are there?"
"Well, we saw and heard three, but there could be many more!" Seitaro replied, his voice laced with concern.
"Okay, so here's the deal," the monk approached Seitaro, the tension between them dissipating. "I think one Chromic monster killed would do for... round-about a thousand chromosomes, for someone like you. And, I also require you to pay two thousand on top of that for the last time. Fairey-squarey, I think. Any objections?"
Priest Seitaro's face paled, and he raised a trembling hand to wipe off the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "You know I can't do that much in one day, Yongsheng," he tried to reason. "You see, this is still not a very wealthy town, and I can't—"
"Yes, you can," Yongsheng interrupted, his hands resting on his hips. He leaned forward, his tone growing more assertive. "Yes, you can! What's the single most wealthy establishment in the entire city or village anywhere in the Rice Fields? The church, what else? It is you who doesn't give a damn about taxes — if there are any — and it is you who constantly collect those sweet-sweet donation funds that you extract from people for absolution, or whatever." As he spoke, the monk noticed the glances exchanged among the onlookers, their expressions a mix of surprise and growing disgust at the truth laid bare. "Even if your church doesn't have at least five thousand (which I seriously doubt), you can still gather some from the fair— which reminds me, you have a bloody town fair going on right now! So I expect, at the very least, five thousand chromosomes by the time I'm done. I'm not backing down, okay?" His words hung in the air, firm and unyielding. Seitaro's eyebrows lowered.
"Fine, whatever," Seitaro grunted, defeated and exposed. "I'll think of something to pile up. But please, for the sake of all that's holy, Yongsheng, be careful!"
"Right," the monk replied laconically, signalling the end of their conversation. He turned on his heels, the crackling sound of his blue trainers against the rough stone filling the air, and strode purposefully towards the back of the church. The curious crowd cautiously trailed behind him, their eyes fixed on his every move, but Yongsheng paid them no mind. Being the centre of attention was a familiar sensation to him. The priest, meanwhile, began muttering prayers and sayings to praise the fallen and bless the still-living.
Yongsheng bent over the fence gate, peering intently at the expanse of land before him. With a swift motion, he leaped over the gate, disregarding the trampled ears of rice beneath his feet. The monk's hand slowly moved towards his belt, carefully unclasping the sword from its resting place. With a deliberate flourish, he extended his left arm, tightly clenching his fist. As he opened his hand, a magnificent blue chromosome materialised, glimmering in the sunlight.
A hushed murmur spread through the crowd as they watched in awe. Yongsheng's fingers curled back into a fist, shattering the chromosome into countless fragments that swirled in the air, arranging themselves into the form of an enormous scythe. The monk grasped the ethereal weapon with both hands, its spectral blade gleaming with an otherworldly aura. With a sweeping motion, he swung the ghostly scythe, slicing through the rice field, neatly severing a large portion of the crops. Gasps and whispers filled the air as onlookers marvelled at the monk's unconventional method of harvesting.
Releasing his grip on the spectral scythe, Yongsheng watched as it dissipated into nothingness. Lowering himself to a crouch, he summoned yet another chromosome, this time whispering an incantation before plunging it into his stomach. The chromosome dissolved upon contact, enveloping his entire body in a radiant blue glow, imbuing him with an otherworldly power.
The warlock trod cautiously through the rice field, mindful of every step he took. The felled brooms and scattered straws crunched under his weight, but he made an effort to minimise any noise. Yongsheng knew that stealth and attentiveness were paramount, as he lacked a precise image of what these salamandrakas truly looked like, despite what he said before. Their small size was the only detail he could rely on, urging him to keep his eyes fixed upon the ground, wary of inadvertently stepping on one of the things.
Reaching what he believed to be the centre of the field, Yongsheng surveyed his surroundings once more, his senses on high alert. He strained his ears, seeking any signs of movement amidst the hushed stillness. Silence enveloped the rice field, but was there a faint rustling among the rice straws? He listened intently, his focus honed to detect even the slightest disturbance. Yet, nothing seemed amiss. With measured caution, the monk gently shifted his foot forward, preparing for the next step, his senses primed to react to any threat.
A distant voice echoed through the small forest, reaching Yongsheng's ears. He froze in his tracks. The sound was eerily close to that of a human voice. It almost sounded like a plea for help. The warlock's instincts warned him of the imminent danger lurking ahead, prompting him to crouch even lower and draw his sword with utmost care.
Yongsheng was no stranger to the trickery of dark entities, but the flawless replication of the human voice intrigued and unsettled him simultaneously. He knew that the salamandrakas, if they truly existed, possessed cunning and deceptive tactics. The voice could be an elaborate ruse, designed to lure him closer, to expose himself. Regardless, he remained vigilant, his camouflage spells still enveloping him, shielding him from the prying senses of the Chromic entities. His eyes kept watch for any movement or disturbance in the field.
The sudden rustle from the left and a very brief vocalisation, "Nnyees!" jolted Yongsheng out of his momentary trance. His reflexes took over, and he instinctively leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the object hurtling towards his face. In the midst of the chaotic moment, his mind raced to comprehend the situation.
As his vision cleared, the monk focused his attention on the small green figure that now lay overturned on the ground. It was one of the salamandrakas, its features aligning closely with the descriptions provided by the Ricefielders. The creature possessed the body of a salamander, with its distinctive elongated form, but its face bore a grotesque human-like visage, contorted in a perpetual grimace. Useless ears protruded from the top of its head, adding an unsettling touch to its appearance.
What struck Yongsheng the most, however, was the creature's astonishing speed. The brief encounter pointed out that the salamandrakas sure were swift adversaries. Regaining his composure, the monk focused his energy, channelling it into his left hand, attempting to form a ritual chromosome. He knew that he had to be prepared for further confrontations with these elusive creatures, and the power of the chromosomes would aid him in his battle against the Chromic menace.
Yongsheng swiftly hurled the freezing chromosome towards the salamandraka, not bothering to aim precisely in the heat of the moment. Simultaneously, he executed a nimble somersault, propelling himself out of harm's way. The creature sailed over him, its teeth clashing together as it failed to find its intended target and instead crashed onto the rice beds. The monk spun around, observing his successful strike — the salamandraka now encased in ice, rendered immobile amidst the frozen rice panicles. Capitalising on his advantage, Yongsheng swung his sword, cleaving the creature in two with a pained "My-e-es!" escaping its cold lips.
However, his victory was short-lived. Another disturbance caught his attention, and something inexplicably bit into his sleeve. Yongsheng swiftly attempted to shake off the new assailant, but to his astonishment, there was nothing clinging to his clothing — it had vanished without a trace. Before he could fully understand what had happened, a fleeting rustle pierced the air, and an intense, searing pain shot through his ankle as something fiercely clamped down on it.
"Motherfucker!" Yongsheng exclaimed in surprise and pain, as he leaped on his right leg in an attempt to dislodge the tenacious salamandraka from his ankle. However, the creature proved agile and evaded his desperate manoeuvre, darting deep into the rice beds. As it wriggled and convulsed, drops of blood splattered in all directions, creating a macabre display amidst the vibrant green foliage. With his foot now adorned in a glistening coat of scarlet, the monk limped in the opposite direction, acutely aware of the hindrance this injury imposed on his speed. He adopted a defensive stance, positioning his sword defiantly before him, prepared to confront any new threats.
He didn't have to wait long. Amidst the sea of rice, he discerned a hint of green, and in an instant, a blur of emerald hurtled towards his left leg. This time, however, fortune favoured him, as the creature latched onto his pant leg with its tiny teeth. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the battle, Yongsheng emitted a fierce shout and executed a jump-kick, propelling the thing a remarkable two metres into the air. Seizing the opportunity, he brandished his gleaming sword, slashing through the airborne creature just as he had done to the frozen adversary. Gray blood spurted forth, showering the surrounding rice beds.
Yongsheng, driven by instinct, extended his left hand with fingers splayed outward and astonishingly managed to snatch yet another salamandraka — mid-flight! — this one sporting a yellowish hue. He examined the creature for a brief moment, noting its larger and more formidable stature compared to its counterparts. Its human face contorted into a sinister grin, revealing a menacing array of hundreds of sharp teeth, as it latched onto Yongsheng's palm with its clawed paws. The monk discarded his sword, opting instead to grip the entity's head tightly with his right hand, while slowly closing both fists. The creature fiercely resisted, its paws straining against his grasp. Yet, spurred on by the mocking "Nyeees!" that escaped its distorted mouth, Yongsheng twisted his hands with force. The sound of crunching bones filled the air, and the monk lifted the lifeless salamandraka, then lowering its neck to his knee with a wet crack, decapitating the monster. The body slumped to the ground, lifeless, amidst the sea of rice.
Yongsheng, braving the pain in his leg, bent down and retrieved his fallen weapon, gripping it tightly in his hand once more. Assuming a defensive stance, he prepared himself for any further adversaries that may be lurking within the rice field. For the next minute, silence enveloped the fields, and even the onlookers behind the fence were hushed. Only the gentle rustling of the wind could be heard, adding an eerie calmness to the aftermath of the battle.
Then, from the crowd, a roar of jubilation erupted. The onlookers cheered with enthusiasm, their voices blending into a chorus of traditional chants, congratulating Yongsheng on his hard-fought victory. He slowly straightened up, a look of astonishment on his face, as he beheld the ecstatic crowd before him. Once again, he was hailed as a hero, and a surge of warmth filled his heart. But that warmth soon spread through his body with an alarming intensity, leaving him puzzled and disoriented. Taking a few unsteady steps toward the gate, he raised his hand in a gesture of gratitude, offering a welcoming smile to the cheering crowd.
Yet, before he could reach the gate, his strength suddenly gave way, and he fell to his knees. Dizziness washed over him, and a fleeting realisation flashed through his mind as he heard the guards rushing to his aid. "These things... are venomous," he thought, his consciousness slipping away as darkness consumed his senses.