A Salamander, but Mighty

POV: Tamara

She didn't have a heart of stone, Tamara simply wasn't yet psychologically ready to accept the idea of hurting – or even killing – another human being, not to mention the fact that she couldn't understand how Luchael was so ready to do it. idea of shedding the blood of some humanoid so simply, however, when he made it clear to her that there was a possibility that he might be in danger, she did not feel capable of standing on the sidelines while her surrogate brother risked to die.

And so, here she was hidden in the vegetation, concentrated on pricking up her ears - which she didn't have - to be able to listen to what Luchael, Helen and the three dwarves were saying to each other. At least they weren't taking part in a mission like this alone and running wild like it happened when she happened to watch her brother play some MMORPG.

She even once asked him to let her play a game, but she didn't last more than ten minutes before she died and decided that that kind of video game wasn't for her. Her family was quite simple, her brother worked as an electrician and he had no girlfriend or friends to spend his free time with, so he was often at home, often playing on the computer.

Considering that she was like this too, there was never a shortage of time and opportunities to try out a wide range of video games together.

Big brother... she thought to herself, feeling her stomach twist with sadness, I hope mom and dad got you that new console I suggested they get you for your birthday...

Tamara squinted, she had to stop thinking about what she had lost, it only made her feel worse. She concentrated on the path ahead, careful not to step on anything that might draw attention to her; they walked for no more than an hour and a half with the promise from the rest of the convoy that they would wait for them at least until lunchtime before leaving again. In that time spent walking and thinking, the small group of five heroes with monster in tow arrived near a camp made up of rough tents made up of semi-permanent structures and surrounded by a messy wooden defensive wall that offered various points to exploit to enter the interior of the camp.

“So, since I am the eldest of the group and have also participated in numerous punitive expeditions against the bandits infesting the Deep Roads, I will decide the plan,” Volgrom communicated, “are you ready?” He asked, addressing mostly the leporan and the human, since the dwarves seemed to be his companions in adventure, if not directly under his orders.

“I'm ready,” Helen declared, her words accompanied by Luchael's nodding, “what are your suggestions?”

“Good! Very good! A girl and a leporan humble enough to respect a dwarf's seniority and experience,” Volgrom nodded, pleased, “here's what we'll do: my boys and I will storm the bandit camp right at the entrance.”

WHAT?? Tamara's eyes widened, or at least, the closest she could get in her limited humanoid form. So this world is REALLY like a video game!

“You will instead go around and pass through one of the many cracks in the palisade; wait until you hear my battle cry, count to twenty and then come in,” said Volgrom, “don't worry about us, you go and retrieve the prisoners.”

“Well, you get the experience,” Helen giggled amusedly, she didn't seem to care that much about getting the little experience offered by some low-level bandit. “Then good luck, noble dwarves.”

“See you when the operation is complete,” Luchael took half a step back, he didn't seem to mind being on the team that didn't have to suffer the direct attention of the bandits either.

Tamara followed them even if she had been curious to see the dwarves' fighting style. Her non-monstrous companions had just enough time to reach one of the flanks of the camp when they heard the dwarf's battle cry, it was time to count to twenty.

Maybe it'll be fine, maybe the only thing I'll have to do is spit out some acid to melt the cell doors and let the prisoners out... she thought, not crossing her fingers just because in her incomplete form they weren't long and thin enough to allow it.

She let Helen and Luchael enter first, then approached the breach and tried to listen: she heard no sounds of fighting or shouting, in short, a good sign for once in her unfortunate life as a salmadrer.

“Aradra, everything is free,” the leporan whispered, reaching out a hand to help her over the breach, “we are looking for the prisoners, usually the bandits keep them where they throw rubbish and feces, since they either manage to sell them into slavery in the Central Continent or free them in exchange for money, food, weapons or other resources.”

“I still wonder why you decided to bring the monster with us, it's just as likely that it will help us as it will devour the prisoners,” Helen murmured with a hard expression on her face, “let's hurry.”

“Shut up, Helen. I know it wasn't right of me to lie to you about my intentions, but if you want to continue to stay with us, you have to stop treating her like she's our enemy.” Luchael glanced in the direction where he could hear the sounds of battle, “let's talk about it another time, now we have to think about the important things.”

“I agree,” Helen hissed, “over here.”

I agree too, and I'm the directly interested one, thought Tamara.

It didn't take them long to reach the area where the prisoners were kept: they were all reduced to a state of absolute misery, with sad expressions and dull looks, their bodies showed the signs of every kind of violence, even the most deplorable ones. Tamara felt her blood boil and had to put a stop to the emergence of those more sinister impulses of her salmadrer instincts. There were three bandits on guard guarding the cages where the prisoners were locked up, it seemed they were looking in the direction the fight was going on. The trio were armed with a pitchfork, machete and a hammer, their clothes dirty, shabby, with armor that was so damaged that Tamara doubted whether wearing it or not had made any difference.

“Now,” Helen said, emerging from hiding behind a curtain with her shield raised and the messer in hand.

“Stay here, Aradra,” Luchael winked at her and then broke into a sprint towards the three brigands. The leporan had such a high running speed that he easily overtook Helen and closed the gap with the three bandits when they had barely had time to flinch in surprise.

Tamara decided to inspect the bandits, just to understand the real level of threat.

[Human – Lv: 5]

[Human – Lv: 4]

[Beastkin – Lv: 7]

Luchael must have inspected the enemies before attacking since among the three he had targeted the beastkin; his rapier shot forward like an arrowhead, aiming for the beastkin's jugular. The humanoid creature with the animalistic features of a wolf managed to bend his torso out of the direction imprinted on the rapier just enough to prevent the rapier from killing him instantly.

“Agh! Call the boss!” The beastkin shouted to one of his companions before swinging his machete in a series of rapid and precise blows that failed to bring down the leporan but were quick enough to cause two visible wounds to his left arm, from which he immediately began to bleed.

Luchael took half a step back groaning, the beastkin tried to continue the series of attacks but was interrupted by Helen, who managed to extend her arm and cause a wound on the beastkin's right cheek. While one of the beastkin's two companions obeyed by running in the direction of the entrance gate, the other moved to Helen's side to take advantage of the scant coverage offered by the maid's dress that the templar was wearing.

What that bandit didn't realize was that that red and white dress had some sort of magical protection that helped Helen deflect the blow with just half the effort she would have had to put in if she had been wearing her old chainmail armor.

“What the…” the human bandit whispered.

“Regalia of the High Sisters of Gornowayl. You won't cut it easily,” the templar said with a smirk on her pretty lips.

Tamara stayed behind to watch, luckily it seemed that Helen and Luchael were more than prepared and capable for such a challenge; from behind her hiding place made up of an old worm-eaten barrel, she observed how the battle was all to the advantage of her fellow adventurers, their levels were balanced and Luchael was confirming once again how much he had changed in the short period in which he they were separated, there was no insecurity when he held his rapier, he almost seemed to no longer even be afraid of pain and failure.

Maybe he got some Feat? Tamara thought, maybe he's simply improving as a fighter, a bit like me...

“And who the heck are you?” A gigantic croconoid shouted as it approached in rapid strides. The creature had whitish scars displayed on every part of its body that wasn't covered by skins and was firmly gripping an ax so large it might have been a guillotine to which they had attached a handle, "you will not take the prisoners anywhere!"

Tamara could guess who he was, but she promptly inspected him to know his level.

[??? – Lv: ???]

What the…

Tamara's blood froze in her veins: did the fact that she couldn't see the level mean that he was much more powerful than her too? No, in that case she should still have seen his type, as had also happened with the core guardian... perhaps there was a Feat to hide this data from inspection? Or perhaps he was wearing some object that had a similar function…

In any case, Tamara began to feel her instincts screaming at her to intervene, that her allies were in danger... and that that croconoid would greatly contribute to her increase in level if she managed to devour him.

I said NO, she thundered inside her head, I’m not a monster, I’m not going to eat people!

“Luchael! Watch out!" Helen shouted, trying to come between the leporan and the bandit leader with her shield raised, ready to receive the enemy.

"Out of the way!" The croconoid was fast for its enormous size and its ax was brought down on Helen and her shield with so much force that it exploded into pieces; the heavy and rough blade continued on its journey eating the flesh of Helen's wrist, who cried out in pain with her hand almost completely rended from the rest of her body. A kick to the stomach made her spit blood and fall to the ground, “a pretty slave to sell to the west! Or perhaps the temple of your faith will be willing to offer a sum for you?” said the croconoid, sneering.

"Damn you! Leave her alone!” Luchael advanced in rapid leaps, bending his arm backwards to perform one of his lethal lunges.

“And what do you want, little hare??” The croconoid let the rapier scrape across the tough hide harmlessly, whizzing past his side without causing any real harm. The croconoid then punched Luchael squarely in the face.

In horror and shock, Tamara heard Luchael's cry of pain mix with the sound of bone breaking and cartilage tearing; the croconoid quickly grabbed the leporan by the neck, holding it off the ground without any difficulty. Luchael groaned as he dropped his rapier to grab the croconoid's hand in an attempt to scratch it with his short painted nails and began kicking the air. Blood smeared his face, even dripping onto the croconoid's arm.

Stop! Please, don't do it! Tamara thought, squinting to avoid looking, petrified by terror and hesitation. She didn't want to kill a person, she wasn't ready yet, but her human emotions were combining with the monster's bestial instincts in an attempt to annihilate her reason.

“A little hare, what do I do with you? The only possible market for your kind is as a sex slave, but I've ruined you now,” sighed the croconoid, “well, that means I'll kill you now.”

“I said STOP!”

- - -

POV: Croconoid bandit chief

The bestial cry made him turn his head where he now found in full view a tiny figure covered inside a hooded robe that completely covered their features; he didn't understand what they said and judging by how small they was they wasn't really a threat to anyone, maybe they was a child? Certainly whoever had brought them there had given him a really nice gift. To avoid any misunderstanding, the croconoid decided to inspect the tiny figure.

[??? – Lv: ???]

Did the inspection fail?? The croconoid thought. Does he have a magic ring like mine? Why would someone ever give such an object to…

His train of thought was interrupted by the little creature: they was fast! Very fast! The croconoid was literally forced to abandon its grip by the leporan in order to defend himself from the new attacker.

“What do you think you're doing, little thing? You threw yourself into a trap!”

The croconoid swung his gigantic ax to try to cut the little attacker exactly in half, but whatever it was, the bandit leader failed in his feat: from the shadows of the hood came an intense green-yellow jet that impacted against the blade of his axe, corroding it in less than a second and catching the croconoid off guard. However, he did not have time to react promptly as he made the mistake of underestimating his opponent by judging the size.

“ARGH! YOU FUCKING BEAST!” He exclaimed in fury and pain as a quill made of obsidian emerged from where the creature had its right hand, “what the hell are you??” he held the worn handle of the ax in his right hand, covering his eye which had been pierced by the unknown creature's sting with his left hand.

The monster, or whatever it was, didn't even try to answer him and instead continued to attack without pause, like a wild beast that had completely lost control. The croconoid used the long handle of his destroyed ax as a club, but once again his habit of fighting creatures much larger than a child worked against him; the being underneath that mass of clothing made perfect use of their size and their attitude and series of attacks demonstrated to an experienced croconoid like him that whatever was down there, they was only thinking of a single thing: kill him in the most painful and direct way possible.

“Don't get too cocky! I'll not get down that easily!” The bandit leader thundered furiously, clenching his left fist and trying to repeat the same devastating blow he had inflicted on Luchael: he aimed at the creature's face.

Probably also the inability to properly identify what he was fighting against was working against him, perhaps if he had understood that there was not a person with particular abilities inside those clothes but a monster he would not have made that mistake. His fist, still clenched, was pierced through and through by another large spike that came out like the tip of a spear from where the face of the person he thought he was facing was located.

“N-no! This… this can’t be true! This can’t be happening!”

Taking advantage of the fact that the quill was still planted in his body, the croconoid attracted his little opponent towards himself; the claws of his right hand managed to tear the clothes and find the tenderness of the flesh beneath, yet the enemy did not even utter a groan of surprise, pain or fear. He withdrew the sting as if by magic and after making it emerge from their hands, they resumed their flurry of strikes, tearing the torso, arms and legs, jumping like a grasshopper to reach even points that the croconoid thought were out of reach.

Blood exploded from every wound that the violent and primordial creature was inflicting on him, his strength was quickly abandoning him and in a last attempt to save himself he tried to grab the creature again, discovering that the spines could come out wherever they wanted, inflicting further wounds. The croconoid collapsed to the ground just as the shreds of the creature's now destroyed dress tore completely, exposing a small monstrous figure similar to a salmadrer. The eyes of that salmadrer, however, were different from those he knew: they were golden eyes with reptilian pupils... intense eyes that burned with something that was not of that world.

They were eyes that made it clear who among them was the predator and who was the prey.

“It... it can't be... it can't end like this...” said the bandit leader desperately trying to summon his last strength to get up and start fighting again, “I don't accept that my story ends like this! Do you understand, monster? You won't break..."

His words were suddenly stopped: another long obsidian quill stuck inside his skull, making space between bones and brain in a perfect blow, worthy of an executioner.

And for the croconoid, the story ended.