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墨書 Inktalez
"What’s going on? Why are you still here?" The team leader glanced at the data on the report form, feeling a bit dizzy. His eyes caught sight of the cracked wall in the corner of the room, and he frowned, angrily cursing.
"Get moving, get moving! Give me a moment; I’m not ready yet." The Beast Tamer looked helpless. He never expected that just those two strikes would have killed the creature. He retracted his stick and tentatively adjusted it to the maximum current frequency, continuing to bombard the weak spot. Clearly, this time it didn’t elicit any reaction from the Sticky Worm.
"Damn it! What’s happening? It’s dead!" The Beast Tamer shouted in frustration. These Sticky Worms were insured, and there were specific restaurants that had ordered them. They were supposed to be collected after reaching a certain size. The association sometimes engaged in breeding industries, and he had over thirty other Beast Tamers under him. Although their daily work mostly involved feeding these creatures, taking care of a pet dog was far less troublesome. After all, these were vile insects; without machines to control them, they could easily turn on their handlers.
The worms were also heavily insured. Each Beast Tamer had to be responsible for their Sticky Worms. Natural deaths were acceptable, but if a Sticky Worm died from starvation or beating rather than natural causes, the restaurant could sue the association.
It seemed quite unfair to be dismissed from the association over one Zerg creature. The regulations clearly stated that they needed to be fed once a week, which indicated that these worms could only endure a week without food. Two weeks of travel and beating had already placed an excessive burden on the Sticky Worm's physiology; sudden death was almost expected.
"How could it have died?" the team leader continued. "Oh well, it’s just one worm. They can’t really do anything to me for this. You all take care of it; after all, its meat is valuable. If the restaurant wants to sue us, we’ll just give them the Sticky Worm’s meat along with some compensation. It’s not a big deal; as long as money can solve it, it’s not an issue."
"Are you sure there’s no problem? Leader, I have family to support! Don’t put me in danger!" The Beast Tamer was starting to panic.
"Don’t worry; I’ll handle it." The leader approached the Sticky Worm and stepped on its weakened body, applying pressure until its flesh turned a purplish hue. The Sticky Worm showed no signs of life. "So it really is dead; what a useless creature! Can’t even withstand this much pressure—what a waste of resources."
"Open the shackles and throw it out," he said dismissively. At this point, tossing out the Sticky Worm seemed like the best option.
"Wait! Don’t open its shackles; it’s still alive!" A mysterious voice suddenly rang out.
The group didn’t have any immediate thoughts about this person—was it mind reading? It sounded strange to them. "This has nothing to do with you; I’ll deal with your issues later. Your problems are getting out of hand while you’re worried about this creature? You really are something," the leader said with a hint of disdain creeping into his smile.
The leader was somewhat ignorant despite his position; he was just an ordinary person who had once relied on connections to get ahead. He had dealt with many troublesome situations through hard work and had now risen to leadership status. To ordinary people, he seemed quite capable and shrewd, but within the association, many looked down on his behavior—he was self-important and sycophantic. Many of his subordinates gave him face out of obligation rather than respect.
"I've done it; whether you listen or not is your business. Once you release the Shackles, it'll be troublesome." Before he could think much more, the leader had already unhesitatingly undone the other person's Shackles, peeling them away from the mouth and muscles bit by bit. The heavy iron mask fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Truly a pig-like existence, worthless, a beast. If it dies, it serves you right. Don't even think about getting compensation from me," the leader spat angrily, stomping hard on the purple wound area. He turned to the others nearby and snapped, "What are you all standing there for? Aren't you disgusted? Out of sight, out of mind—drag this bastard out first."
Just like that, he immediately noticed some people not far away staring at him in terror. Perhaps his earlier display of masculinity had frightened them. In response, he crossed his arms over his chest with an air of arrogance.
"Leader, oh leader."
One by one, people began to speak up, their voices sounding as if they had encountered a ghost.
"What are you saying? Do you think I'm a demon? Being so cruel to it, how could it still be alive?" By the time he finished speaking, his expression suddenly darkened. Alive? Wait, something seemed off. Suddenly, a warm, foul breath wafted from his neck.
"No way." He looked up sharply to see that the Sticky Worm had broken free from its Shackles and was in a Feigning Death state all this time. Suddenly, it sprang into action and lunged forward, swallowing the leader's head in one gulp.
The sound faded away as he began to struggle slightly, but the Sticky Worm's digestive fluid was Strong Acid, which quickly dissolved a significant portion of flesh. It was far more terrifying than any so-called Strong Acid; even that couldn't compare to its horror. The leader gradually disappeared into the Sticky Worm's mouth.
Weighing around a hundred pounds of flesh was something he had never consumed in his life. In an instant, it felt full and lay heavily on the ground, gasping for breath with eyes bulging like lanterns as it stared at the few humans before it.
"How cunning! Beast! Come at me with your life!" The leader realized that releasing the Shackles was indeed a mistake; there was a proper procedure to follow when opening them—first grant death before cutting and peeling.
This Sticky Worm had not even been confirmed dead before its Shackles were released; such actions were absolutely forbidden. Moreover, this should be considered an occupational hazard. Without permission and disregarding the association's established rules led to the leader's death in service. Even if they went to court over compensation issues later on, victory would be uncertain.
"This thing is just like a snake; once it's full, it loses its aggression. Let's all go together and take its life." Given the current situation, they could no longer afford to care; they needed to resolve this immediate crisis first. Besides, someone was already dead; if the association pursued it later on, they could simply say it was due to the leader's reckless actions.
*f*
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