The Mook Maker

I could feel that Rye was proud of her creation. 

 

There weren’t many land-based animals that could challenge her pet mutant crab in the sheer size, mass and weight, perhaps except for an elephant, and the long extinct megafauna of the Mesozoic era when dinosaurs walked the Earth. 

 

But even then, I doubted there were ever crustaceans this massive.

 

I was uncertain whether it was even biologically possible. 

 

Yet Rye’s creation lived, and walked, not only to the sides as the normal crab would but also forward and backward, subject to my bat-girl’s every whim and wish, restricted only by the most difficult terrain the ‘Corruptors’ selected as their home away from home, to discourage the humans to even approach their dwellings hidden among the overgrown vegetation. 

 

The natural obstacles, to hamper the advance of even the human supernaturally gifted ‘elites’, didn’t work that well with giant Rye created. 

 

The ‘Overseer’, however, doesn’t seem to mind. 

 

Her kin had previously shown the inexplicable tendency to turn humans into the mobile biological perch to carry them when they were tired or bored, but they soon realised it simply wasn’t viable should the bat-girl get bigger and heavier. 

 

The humanoids also weren’t good at maintaining balance when something pressed down on their shoulders, no matter how much the magic twisted them. 

 

I also tried to discourage the raids against the human settlement to capture the new future thralls. It was a horrible practice that would open its own can of worms, but our attempt to pacify the city made that point rather moot. The effect of ‘Fleshspeaker’ magic was irreversible, and there were now more ‘drones’ than ever before. 

 

A mutant crab was a solution, in that regard. 

 

Creating it, hopefully, harmed no human - at least, I hope it didn’t - while the girls received a personal thrall they could control to carry them around.

 

I got the dubious privilege of the first ride, on Rye’s insistence, seated on the appropriately reshaped part of the shell, while the former ‘Fleshspeaker’ - now ‘Overseer’ - sat behind me still giving a best impression of an imperial eagle insignia, albeit alive, and anthropomorphic bat shaped one.

 

It didn’t matter that she could only vocalise ‘For Master’. Her mind absolutely sang with the options the new species found here on the coast offered them in terms of material to reshape, soon to eclipse, the ‘roach-hounds’ Angela had created before. 

 

I didn’t have the heart to discourage her from further destroying the local ecosystem by introducing the new invasive species to it, but the damage was already done. The ‘Corruptors’ have only one night to turn a small secluded bay into the fairyland of thorns, unnatural leaves and impossible flowers.

 

The few ‘roach-hounds’ did lurk in the canopies, too. 

 

There were ‘Corruptors’ too. They greeted me, unbothered by the twisted landscape they had their own part in creating. 

 

Birds, however, disappeared. Not even a single seagull dared to croak.

 

Maybe the ‘Purifiers’ already ate all of them. 

 

It was a strange feeling. 

 

Eventually, we discovered that climbing wasn’t the crab’s forte, and the ‘Warpstalker’ had to be called to teleport us to a better vantage point, so the rest of the abominations against nature could be inspected. 

 

In the end, it was I, and my ‘personal Displacer’ who got the ride, along with Rye herself, while the rest had to follow on foot. 

 

There was a sizable contingent of ‘Corruptors’ and ‘Purifiers’ along with the odd ‘Defiler’ mixed among them, which was soon joined by Miwah, Narita and Tama, to be transported where the rest of the girls currently were - the human village. 

 

Surprisingly, Tama didn’t complain that she didn’t get to sit up there with me. 

 

At least, I thought she didn’t, as we had moved closer to the village, and with it, closer to the relic burial spot beneath the sea, which distracted my senses. There was something out there. 

 

The relic beneath the sea continued to call to me, and I wondered whether the disturbing dreams were indeed the result of the powerful aura it emitted, or was it the work of something or someone else?

 

I would never find out - only the ‘Lady’ knew better, and she didn’t respond. 

 

But maybe I was right in my assumption it worked as a signal, a beacon, which refused to go away once I was attuned to it. 

 

I could only hope I could tune to a different frequency, as it was radio, but so joy so far - a strange sensation echoing within my head had no button to press, or knob to turn, to tune in and out. There was no shut down switch either. 

 

The more I tried to turn the indescribable hum of the scroll’s presence, the more I had to lean towards the never-ending choir of voices that compromised the host. 

They had a lot to say, even before they got me to the place they wanted me to see. A thousand minds working together as one drowned even the sinister pulse of the long-forgotten artefact, and I listened.  

 

To all of them.

 

It was preferable to the indescribable feeling that reminded me of the nightmares that plagued me tonight. 

 

From the top of the hill overlooking the coastal terrace fields, I could see that all ‘Fleshspeakers’ I felt behind followed Rye’s guidance and managed to tinker with the sea crustacean biology, creating their own version of the pincer menaces, even though theirs were considerably smaller.

 

Whether it was a sign that the flesh-shaping magic of the ‘Overseer’ was greatly enhanced by the regular ‘Fleshspeakers’, or it was a sign of rank, standing, power, or perhaps even ego, I couldn’t tell. Maybe they just wanted to experiment which design was superior, considering the variation in colours and shapes. 

 

The smallest of the mutant crabs, if one could call them that, were still larger than a dog, moss-coloured, and lurked within the harvested sections of the rice fields to terrify the human villagers to no end. 

 

Some grew larger, some smaller, but all looked inherently unnatural.

 

The humans took them better than I would imagine, too. 

 

The village down on the coast was intact, as far I could tell, and its inhabitants were out in the field, working to bring the harvest in. If they had any schedule, any plan, to start the gathering immediately after the blessings were given, they followed it without a hitch, seemingly unperturbed that anthropomorphic moths descended from the sky to bestow said blessings. 

 

While giving both the girls and their pet abominations a wide berth, there was a distinctive lack of panicked scream and fire - whatever the original ritual was supposed to be, it certainly didn’t involve my ‘Mutators’ - this settlement took our presence far better than was usual. 

 

I must remember to commend Ari and the others for accomplishing their tasks so peacefully. 

 

The carts were out on the dirt road, with piles of the rice plants to be later threshed and work continued, even if the crops were taller, more laden with seeds, than they had any right to naturally be. 

 

I watched from a distance.

 

Normally, the natives were far more belligerent, far too defiant towards us, sometimes suicidally so, but those simply carried out their work without the need to be whipped to submission, even though I assumed the ‘Fleshspeaker’ could catch up to anyone who would try to flee. 

 

Not that I necessarily wanted them to. 

 

I was glad about it. None of all that rice was meant for us, anyway, and was no reason to levy them for the job. 

 

Still, it made me even wonder whether the ‘Fleshspeaker’ were puppeteering the humans to do the work, but the fact some villagers jumped in surprise when they found the anthropomorphic moth inspecting the plants they brought in suggested they were still holding to their senses. 

 

They did a lot of labour in the fields since yesterday as well. 

 

Humans did, at least, while the ‘Mutators’ fed the crab-things with the strange, almost radioactive looking, algae forcibly grown inside the already cleared paddies for the sake of feeding the crab-things. 

 

The stubs of the once-rice danced under the magic of my anthropomorphic moths, sparking a new, twisted life under the strange glow of verdant green, and sunny yellow, only to crystalize into the unnatural light blue plant colonies on the water that the abomination devoured. 

 

What didn’t go to the humans was processed in some other way, apparently? 

 

It had a profound effect on the crustaceans, the algae they cultivated. There were some mutagenic properties to it, it seemed. A trick with the abnormal growth was interplay between the two breeds, applying their power to respective parts of the life they governed over. It was quite ingenious, even though I didn’t quite understand how it worked, besides it was something inherently supernatural, magical in nature.

 

At least, my girls fed the things plants, not humans - the natural crabs were, as far I knew, scavenger carnivores - while those affected by the ‘Fleshspeaker’ magic were no longer subject to anything beyond the whims of my bat-girls. 

 

I could even see one of my pretties reshaping it, forcing the flesh to dance at her will, causing abnormal growth when she decided that her creation needed some tweaking. A contact with the ‘Fleshspeaker’ clawed legs was enough.  

 

Humans were, as far as I could tell, very careful to not get close, as the convulsing creature suddenly sprouted new limbs.

 

The only one unperturbed by the whole thing was Ari, seated in the shade of the oddly misshapen leafless tree that wasn't there one day before, and working on some embroidery. 

 

She cared little about what the humans did, or whether the nearby ‘Purifier’ was perhaps a little too curious.  

 

I was rather curious about the quite peculiar tree, massive, yet lacking the strange, obnoxious colours the ‘Corruptors’ gave to all the plants their magic touched. 

 

It was dark and ominous, long branches catching the shadows upon the settlement beneath it as the sun remained high on the still clear skies 

 

Did they make another tree of arcane? Was this one all used up? Was it the cost to make the mega-crab the precious glowing fruit? 

 

Upon checking the ‘overview’, I found that the number of ‘resources’ hadn't dropped since yesterday, and I struggled to remember whether it wasn’t even higher by one? 

 

Maybe it was my imagination, and poor memory.

 

The number of ‘drones’ did rise, though whether my bat-girls used their magic to enthral more humans, or were counting their animal experiments, I didn’t know. 

 

I was about to ask Rye, but then I noticed Ari handing her handiwork - a bundle of cloth - to Kirke, and bowed. The moth girl took the item and unfolded her wings, buzzing towards us. 

 

Another ‘Mutator’ joined her. 

 

Two moth girls gently landed in front of us, or rather, before the mobile-crab-throne, and unfolded the cloth. 

 

“My Master!” Kirke announced, “Ari prepared the flag for you!” 

 

‘A flag?” I asked, thoughtfully. 

 

An idea of some legal identity for our group crossed my mind earlier, along with the flag and other fitting identifiers, but the constant fight for survival, along with the inability to meaningfully communicate with the natives, made the point rather moot, and even plan to design the flag, and commission it, simply didn’t crystalize. 

 

Perhaps I should be ashamed that someone else took the initiative. 

 

The flag they had created was a black and white, patched together from the clean sheet of the cloth, and the embodied rather than painted or pressed image. 

 

Instead of my symbols in the native language, one I couldn’t read anyway, it was a stylized shadow play of the leafless, black tree, the intricate pattern of roots below reflected on the hollow branches above, some of which ended in some monster’s head, like a mythical hydra. 

 

I raised my gaze up from it to the black tree that now dominated the coastal village. 

 

The actual tree didn’t have the heads, but an intricate web of branches that almost resembled the root network upside down was unmistakably done there, in the three dimensions. A statue, albeit one that has been grown, rather than carved. 

 

“It matches, Master.” Kirke pointed out what I already noticed 

 

We got the symbol then. 

 

Ari was among the precious few friendly humans we had encountered so far, if not only a friendly one, and I consider it would be fitting for her to design the emblem that would symbolise our host from now on, in front of her countrymen. After all, it was they who we tried to impress with it. 

 

Seated on my mobile throne, I stroke my chin, considering the image. The Serpent, the mysterious entity plaguing Ari’s mind, was also there, was there, one tendril among the many roots spreading over, one of many heads of the proverbial hydra.

 

Strange.

 

“Master?” Kirke asked when I went silent for the moment, overthinking the symbolism, 

 

“Thank you.” I said, “We will use it from now on.” 

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

“Were there any problems with humans?” I asked, re-focusing on the village, still blissfully ignorant of our presence, dodging the ‘Fleshspeakers’ abominable creations, along with the attempts to re-utilize what they left behind.  

 

“No, Master. They will follow your light.” Kirke replied. She, as the ‘Mutator’ - anthropomorphic moth - seemed to be obsessed with the concept of following the light, but I dismissed the concerns. All of my girls had their quirks. 

 

“Any resistance? Did you kill anybody?” 

 

I asked, watching as the little ‘Mutator’ folded the cloth of the flag with an unparalleled coordination of her four arms, while her ‘Alpha’ turned to me. 

 

“...other than that one at our arrival.” 

 

“No, Master.” The moth-girl explained, “Aside from only that single foot, they all welcomed your return.” 

 

“My return?” 

 

This was weird. I wasn’t there before. However, since our entire interaction with this specific village was the product of the dragoness’ meddling, and my girls technically acted on her behalf, I attributed to the whole cult charade we were supposed to put up to wake her up. 

 

“And the Lady still hasn't woken up?” 

 

“No, Master.” Kirke said, “Ari held the ceremony in her name for the dead man, but didn’t have any effect we would sense.” 

 

I nodded - I, too, couldn’t feel any notable change. 

 

It annoyed me. 

 

The ‘Lady’ was still, somehow, connected for us, a foreign presence among the host, but subdued, slumbering, dreaming, nearly lifeless. It made me wonder whether the strange nightmares were my own, or ones of the celestial dragoness. 

 

“And the priest?” 

 

If anyone knew how to feed the energy - or faith, or whatever made the ‘Lady’ into what it was - it was him. 

 

“He was not of much use, Master.” Narita said, joining the conversation. “I demonstrated we could heal the wounded instead.” 

 

There was a shortage of miracles, I suppose, a main reason why the ‘Lady’ even insisted I send my ‘Mutators’ here. Now, the ‘Defilers’ had to assist. 

 

We could, and we would, have to find our own solutions. However, the gaps in knowledge were difficult to fill, and there were certain things the dragons hid from their followers. 

 

It made me think of the throbbing sensation of the relic. 

 

“I suppose attempts to recover the scroll from the sea failed as well?” 

 

“For Master!” Rye, still proudly sitting behind me, said, her large wings now half wrapped around me. 

 

Her mind touched mine - images, words, flowed. It was, surprisingly, less bothersome than enduring the relic signal. 

 

They scouted the sea floor, apparently, using their mind-controlled puppet as the remote controlled drones, exactly as I originally intended, but their efforts were hampered by the unusual topography as the shallow waters were cut out by a deep ravine.

 

“Explain that, please.” I asked, half-turning to look at the chiropteran girl's face, curious what they found down there. I started to assume that the scroll - if it was one - wasn’t just thrown into the sea as it was. The memory of the chain within my dreams came back.

 

“For Master.” The ‘Overseer’ assured me, her wings hidden me, the clingy ‘Displacer’ drew herself closer, to assure me I wasn’t about to sink down, even if I was on solid ground right now. Or rather, my mount was. 

 

Apparently, the mysterious object that radiated this strange was currently at the bottom of said ravine, half-buried under the sand and coral. A chest perhaps. 

 

“For Master!” Rye continued, her girlish voice high pitched. 

 

In their attempts to dislodge the box - one that I assumed was the container for the scroll itself - they sent down a human. He drowned in the attempt.

 

That was a problem.

 

Rye, the ‘Overseer’ in charge of the ‘Fleshspeaker’ present, felt justified in her pursuit to create the perfect amphibious organism that could continue with the underwater excavation, explaining her obsession with crabs and reshaping their claws for both manipulation with object, digging, and, on an unrelated note, for snapping unruly humans in half… 

 

They - the humans - were useless, except for the spare parts, as she put it. 

 

I was, however, horrified by the fact they drowned the human in an attempt to get to the box.  

 

We weren’t even certain that the scroll was in there, even if it was a logical conclusion to our current understanding. 

 

“One from the village?” I asked, alarmed.  

 

“For Master!” The bat-girl was, however, unphased. Rye didn’t think she did anything wrong. 

 

I didn’t quite understand how it was Irene’s human, but judging from the frantic explanation that flooded my mind, they were attempting to use the human we had captured earlier and sent to mine for ore. Then repurposed it. 

 

“No, not that. Don’t use humans.” I decided. Shook my head, too. The bat girls thought of the concepts that were slightly alien in their nature. 

 

Even though the effect of the ‘Fleshspeaker’ magic was irreversible, there was no reason for throwing the lives away. 

 

“For Master.” Rye luckily agreed, even though not for the reason I thought them to be. After all, she bypassed the magical barrier. The humans were nothing more than faulty tools for the job. 

 

“Yes, crabs it is, once you find something better to lift something from the sea floor.” I said. 

 

At least I understood why they have an issue with getting something up from the sea floor. 

 

We presumably needed either a lifting bag or a boat with a crane, along with the means to remove all the coral and sand down there. Nothing that could be sourced immediately. 

 

I could let the locals finish their harvest before we borrow their fishing boats, even though they were likely not enough to fit an improvised crane. A wooden chest may not be that heavy, but we couldn’t rule out they opted to sink a stone sarcophagus to make the recovery harder, and a casing that didn’t rust. 

 

“Rye, you will still oversee this village, and our attempts to recover the scroll.” I decided and waited until she lifted her leathery wings from her protective embrace. 

 

I had no desire to watch the humans work - I had no ambition to become the plantation owner.

 

“For Master!” 

 

“Let’s return then.” I decided, standing up from my rather awkward sitting position atop Rye’s mutant crab, then jumping down. Luckily enough, I didn’t sprain my ankle doing so, even if Miwah had to catch me. 

 

“No special time on the beach, Master?” Tama said, disappointed. 

 

“No, Tama.” I sighed. “I suppose we could retreat for some rest after we check on Brave’s town, though, unless something else crops up.” 

 

All tasks, from letters to the other settlements, to the excavation of the artefact, couldn’t be done immediately. We didn’t have powers that could be transferred directly to underwater work. 

 

The ‘Corruptor’ could make the crawling plants as strong as the cables, and cobble together a floating raft, but that was about it,  

 

Their idea with the human drone made me convinced I have to check on the other settlement before anything else. The ‘Fleshspeakers’ didn’t quite concern themselves with the humans they used, and maybe I should even ask them to try reversing the process. 

 

“...you Kirke, come with me, please.” I decided - I needed to know the moth a little better. She was chased around the various tasks too much after her summoning. 

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

“A little one?” I beckoned my ‘personal Displacer’ closer: “To the mining town.” 

 

The little feline dragged me through their spatial rift, reminding me I should give the little, clingy cat-girl a name, instead of referring to her simply as a small one, or similar, but the thoughts on the matter drowned in the shifting space of the void beyond. 

 

My worries were directed to the mining town. 

 

Should I inspect the other villages too? 

 

The moments after, I was on that paved road that snaked through the hills, a path we walked already, in front of what once has been the mountainous settlement with all its terraced fields, where our only mine was located. Only the general layout, unique in its own right, suggested it was the place we had once visited. 

 

I paused, steadying myself using the little ‘Displacer’ for support as the incomprehensible angles of the void did still cause some vertigo, but even the space beyond space was more acceptable than the dead silence of my nightmares, as I could hear the whispers of the host out there. 

 

The mining town was …

 

Present, but the surrounding area was completely unrecognisable since our last visit. 

 

The terraced fields still existed, with original crops untouched, but the houses gradually overran with the aggressive creep my ‘Mutators’ created, resting in the shadow of the watchtowers my girls have erected in the meantime. 

They worked fast.

 

Perhaps too fast. 

 

The surrounding treeline was gone. 

 

The original vegetation either fell victim to the excessive deforestation to create the fortified camp with the palisade and another set of watchtowers, or was converted into the twisted, otherworldly bramble that resembled a more organic barbed wire than anything else. 

 

A few ‘roach-hounds’ - an oversized mutant insect the ‘Fleshspeakers’ created - patrolled the perimeter. They must be making those now, en masse, somehow. 

 

Behind it laid the madness of the alien forest with the toxic colours half-obscured in the slight haze. Some of it moved, and glowed, as the ‘Corruptors’ even now worked on their plants, unsatisfied with their creations, seeking a new perfection.

 

I looked around once more. Nothing around was the way I left it, some days ago. 

 

If anyone managed to cross the pass that led to the valley, they would find themselves in another world. Nothing was as it had been, and worse yet, it happened on my orders. 

 

As the ‘Warpstalker’ rifts opened, bringing my other companions in, the rest of my girls in the town were already headed towards us. 

 

“For Master! Master! Master!” cheered the ‘Purifiers’ on the watchtowers, while the ‘Fleshspeakers’ took flight. The several dozens of ‘Eviscerator’ poured close, dropping their invisibility, with Brave in their middle, all around me. 

 

Were my little -or not so little as their smaller versions could look me into eyes without looking up- werewolves scary to humans, I had to wonder. 

 

No humans were around, though, at first. 

 

Did they hide? 

 

To me, my girls, they were all beautiful. 

 

I walked forward through the little tide of canine monster girls to meet their leader. 

 

“Brave.” I said, giving her a hug. She was back in her armour, a quite ordinary one, salvaged from local armouries, though her evolution gave her much more grace than ever before. She absolutely did evoke status in her smooth-furred jackal form. 

 

Her little sisters did the same, and I was almost suffocated under the few dozen ‘Eviscerators’ and the uncounted voices at the back of my head sang in unison. 

 

“Master…” Brave replied, “Do you like what we did to the place? We are fortifying it as you ordered.” 

 

I had to give a hug to a few nearby girls, while others simply socialised with ones like Miwah, Tama, and Narita, before I turned to Brave.

 

Kirke flew overhead. The ‘Mutator’ may be curious what the ‘Corruptors’ did here, on a professional level, too. They had similar powers.

 

“Yes. You did well.” I said, turning my attention back to Brave, “I wanted to check what you did with humans?” 

 

“Yes, Master.” She said, gesturing towards the town, “We kept them in line for you.” 

 

The sea of ‘Eviscerators’ split - and I realised that the crowd here was merely a hundred of them. Our horde consisted of a few thousand, and I never visited all of them. Most of them were scattered around, in different places. 

 

I walked towards the town up the soft slope. Brave next to me, along with Miwah, on the one side, and Narita with Tama on the other. Of course, the little ‘Displacer’ needed to keep close. There were ‘Warpstalkers’- her bigger, more panther-like sisters, now too, but it seems they accepted their smaller sister was the one to accompany me.

 

The larger felines were about to get some snacks from her ‘Corruptor’ cousins, whom also came forth. The town was practically overrun by my girls, and I still didn't catch a glimpse of any humans yet. 

 

“I asked Mai and then Lily for something to calm them down. We kept them fed, and now they are behaving.” Brave gestured, “We didn’t have to kill any of them, Master” 

 

“Did the Fleshspeakers convert any of them? I don't want them to be zombified.” 

 

“No, no, Master.” Brave assured me, “Those brought to work in the mines were ones that attacked you elsewhere.” 

 

Only when we reached the centre of the town, where most of the houses were located, did I start noticing its original human inhabitants, some of them piling up or sorting the rocks from the mine, some apparently containing ore, others being a waste rock. 

 

The humans didn’t seem to be under the ‘Fleshspeaker’ magic. There weren’t any abnormal growths on their muscle, no blackened veins, or deformation, but they didn’t seem right in their mind either. 

 

They just shuffled the rocks, back and forth, for the ‘Ravagers’ to inspect them. With my ursine followers around, smelting was not strictly necessary. It was just a matter of sorting the ore from the gangue, letting them absorb the metal directly through their magic, then dumping all the slag to the earthworks. 

 

The locals didn’t even do the heavy lifting. 

 

They just sorted the rocks, with the ‘Ravager’ pushing the cart away. 

 

Some did the crafting, huddled around, stitching the cloth instead, or did the minor crafts weaving and trying the wooden slats together, to create a shoddy, improvised variant of the local lamellar armour .  

 

“We don’t force them to work the mine as you instructed, Master.” Brave pointed out, “And their fields aren’t ripe for harvest yet, I think.” 

 

It seems true. They didn’t seem to be forced to do anything.

 

A lot of them didn’t. There wasn’t any child labour, either. 

 

Some natives just sat on the rocks, rocked back and forth, restless, shaking, sweating, and looking overall much worse, while others stared into some piece of rock, or wood, spacing out, while others worked diligently. 

 

All of them, however, barely noticed us. They went on and on, some of them suddenly stopping, staring into space. Some even tried to calm down the visible tremors in their hands. It was eerie.. 

 

I was wondering whether they were under the ‘Fleshspeaker’ magic effect, but then, Lily, along with a few new tag-along ‘Corruptors’, arrived among the crowd of my girls, dragging in a few baskets. 

 

The spoils from the city, or a trade with the natives, must be plentiful if some of my scaly cuties went from their Hawaiian dancer-esque outfits to the nice local clothes the humans wore. 

 

Lily hasn’t received her Fruit of Arcane yet, the only ‘Alpha’ overlooked in the entire process if I didn’t count Kirke who created them. 

 

The townsfolk, previously apathetic to our presence, came alive and rushed towards the ‘Corruptor Alpha’ and her assistants, forming a queue, even though it took a few ‘Eviscerators’ to direct them. 

 

Entire basket of various fruits was widely distributed among the crowd, but the natives didn't seem too hungry, even if they took the fruits and carried them away to their huts, disappointed. 

 

None of them, however, fought my girls. If anything, the natives acted rather obedient and submissive at the moment, which was a polar opposite to the belligerent settlement that tried to stone Ari to death. 

 

“We feed them regularly and often.” Brave commented, in the tone of the person who took diligent care of your pet in your absence: “Your humans aren’t starved, Master.” 

 

I think I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, think of the natives this way.

 

There was something inherently weird about what was happening. 

 

Then it came to odd berries in the separate basket, and everything changed. 

 

Every single human wanted those. They pushed and shoved each other aside, so they could get merely a few of those berries, gulping their portion as soon as they could, while my girls struggled to distribute them equally among the now roused crowd. 

 

Some humans were satisfied, rushing to their work, with enthusiasm they never had before, continuing the craft, or sorting rocks, while others fought over the share of berries only to be separated by my ‘Eviscerators’. Or the other humans, even, as those too aggressive towards the comparatively diminutive ‘Corruptors’ were met by protest from the other townsfolk. 

 

One human, a man, tried to grab the lizard-girl's arm, and the human female hit him on the head with the piece of wooden slat she was making, which immediately escalated to a full out brawl. 

 

There was shouting, in the native language, I didn’t understand. Even some punches were thrown, not against my girls, but the locals fighting each other. 

 

I was puzzled. 

 

When one man pushed the other to the ground and tried to strangle him, the ‘Ravager’ had to step in. The ursine girl easily lifted the aggressive man and put him aside like a petulant child. Both received their respective shares of strange, colourful berries and retreated to each corner of the town. 

 

“They really love those berries, Master.” Brave commended, matter of handedly, “Normally, they are tame, but there is a little scuffle when we feed them. We make sure everyone gets a share, and they don’t hurt each other.” 

 

I watched, bewildered, the entire scene. I even saw the ‘Eviscerator’ petting the human. 

 

What do they put in those berries? 

 

“You couldn’t…” 

 

I was about to object, about the treatment of humans, but I never got the chance to finish that sentence as all of the sudden, a massive, disturbing sense of loss swept over me. 

 

Dizziness soon followed, and then the dreaded notification invaded my view. The ‘Purifiers’ nearby growled, uncharacteristically annoyed now compared to their usual giggly selves. 

 

One I hoped to never see again.

 

It was wildly, wildly, unpleasant. 

 

I shook my head in an attempt to shake away the feeling, but the message lingered, as a curse. 

 

5 units sealed until the caster is dead.

 

The ‘caster’ - another one. But where? Why now? 

 

 “Master?” 

 

“What happened?” I demanded. 

 

“Master. They sealed Helmy.” 

 

I took a few steps away from the town, and suddenly was less worried about my girls feeding the humans strange fruits with intoxicating effects. There was tangible danger once again, and it was the one that endangered us the most. Hurt us the most. 

 

Worries about what was happening to humans were pushed back. 

 

This couldn’t stand. 

 

I would get my ‘Alpha’ back!