Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 161

X.

It was an unusual job request, to be sure.

Initially, it seemed simple enough — take the girl for a few days, just until another caravan could come pick her up. As for what those people intended to do with her after that, Baraba thought it best to not ask any questions, since the pay was good – really good – and that was all he cared about.

In hindsight, he might have let his greed cloud his better judgment.

“Idiot!” he yelled at himself, knocking something down in a rage over his own foolishness. It was a stack of books, mostly fairy tales, that Typhon had left behind. He’d buy stacks of them in town, to read in his spare time.

Baraba sighed. If only we lived in the world of one of those damned kid’s stories.

It was at this time, as Baraba was pacing and seriously pondering the situation by the candlelight, that Elias burst into the tent, brimming with cheer regardless of the overall dire mood in the camp.

He did a twirl, letting his mantle flow in the air. “I heard you could use some help, captain?”

Baraba appraised him with a sour frown, but had no reason to doubt the boy’s ability. Certainly not after he’d made a fool of Typhon, and a decent number of his men after that, at the arena pit yesterday.

“My son ran away with a very important prisoner of mine, and I need her returned to me alive.”

Elias broke out into a cold sweat. Gone was his usual eloquence, as he was abruptly rendered a wide-eyed, stammering buffoon. “Ah, y-y-yes! A prisoner, did you say?” The same prisoner he’d been tasked by his master with keeping tabs on?

“They were last seen in Khadez. Know what that means?”

“Of course,” Elias said, composing himself. “If I get caught, then I am on my own.”

Baraba nodded. Called the ‘Trade Jewel’ of the Ishtar, Khadez was under the direct protectorate of the Ishtar Army as it served as a central trading hub within the region. So naturally, to have all his men head there and start kicking down doors, the way Baraba would have liked to handle the situation, was ill-advised. Rather, he would send his men out in small units, so as not to attract any unwanted attention.

Just before departing from the tent, Elias turned back to Baraba with a malevolent glare.

“If it comes down to it…”

He licked his lips.

“Do I have permission to kill the boy?”

Baraba bit his lip.

With so much riding on this deal, he did not have to think long on the answer.

“Do whatever it takes,” was his stern reply.

XI.

Out of the depths of El’s consciousness, something emerged.

A scene of a fiery hellscape.. Destruction. Death.

She could vividly hear the screams. Smell the burning flesh. And in the distance,  hovering above it all in the crimson red skies, she glimpsed something.

A lone, winged figure, reveling in its handiwork.

And it was coming for her, next.

El awoke, with a gasp.

She was lying down, with sunlight streaming unto her face, her head resting in Typhon’s lap.

She inspected her bizarre new surroundings, of rumbling machine parts and turning cogs that comprised the inside of the clock tower.

There was no fire. No screaming. Only clockwork.

“You’re alive,” Typhon whispered, with a weary grin. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, and it showed in his drooping head and sagging eyelids.

El’s recollection of last night was foggy.

She remembered flying up and away, with Typhon following on a horse below, a mere black speck beneath. As they made it into the city, she could hear him cry out to her, but not what he was saying. So, she flew lower, not paying full attention to what was in front of her, when suddenly a pitch black tower, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, rose up from the black depths in front of her.

Everything went blank, after that.

As she was regathering her thoughts, Typhon surprised her with a hug.

“I was so scared!” He sobbed into her hair as he squeezed her tight, realizing for the first time how warm she was. Impossibly warm, like she’d just been in the sun.

El was silent, still lost in thought.

Typhon had saved her life – of that much she was certain.

Still, his arms around her felt wrong.

All of this felt wrong.

I don’t know why he would do all this for me.

Maybe he just wants me for himself.

So, as soon as she recovered, she would fly away.

But where would I fly to?

El had wings now, but still no direction. No idea where to go.

If that’s the case, then I should stay.

Upon reaching this decision, she stared out of the tall window in the clock tower, out at the slowly waking city.

I wonder if father notices I’m gone.

Maybe he’s looking for me.

XII.

There was dense fog, and rubbery mangroves. Small, bristly shrubs and reeds the resting spots of dragonflies, darting past. An earthy stench — that of the mud sticking to his feet, like tiny mouths trying to suck him deeper into the earth. All of what would one expect, in a simulacrum of an ordinary swampland. A wretched, foul place, with an even fouler resident…

Israphiel would never have come here, if the situation were not so dire.

Glancing up at the sky, where the sun or moon should be, instead there was a golden dial ticking away into grey with each passing second. A constant  reminder that his time here was limited.

“Enough lurking, muck-dweller!” He commanded.

Something in the stagnant air shifted. He could hear the sound of something moving in the swamp; gliding effortlessly through the murky waters.

A creature that was neither man nor angel gradually revealed itself as it emerged unto the shore. First, there was the top part that once resembled a man, but now was gaunt and cursed with rotted green skin and drooping swines’ ears. Its head, of drenched dark hair, slicked over both its eyes like a clinging, oily film.

As it spoke, mouthfuls of the foul water it’d just been submerged in issued from its mouth.

“Brother,” he said in a raspy voice. “It has been so long since you last visited me.”

Israphiel cringed at the sight of him, the water and moss cascading off his bare shoulders.

The rest of the muck-dweller was not any less appalling — save for his arms and torso, his lower body was revealed to be like that of an alligator, feverishly clawing its way unto the shore.

“I come, seeking a prophecy,”

Israphiel said, half-averting his gaze from the monstrosity before him.

“Straight to business, as always.” The muck-dweller smiled, showing yellowed, decaying teeth. “Don’t you want to stay a while? I can find you a nice, comfortable place at the swamp bottom.”

“El has gone missing,” Israphiel quickly said. ” I require your assistance in locating her.”

The muck-dweller scowled, and stuck up his nose.

“Please, brother.” Israphiel extended a hand. “Surely there must still be some goodness left within you, even after languishing here for so long!”

The muck-dweller bristled.

“Do not forget it was you that locked me away here, in the first place!”

“It is true, I have caused you great suffering,” Israphiel said, falling to his knees and delicately grasping at his own chest, where the muck-dweller thought his heart should be. “Even though my reasons are just, my soul aches for the plight of all my fallen brothers and sisters.”

“Or so you claim,” the muck-dweller scoffed derisively. “As always, with your fanciful talk.”

Still, Israphiel was unfazed.

“I may have wronged you, but El is clean of sin.” He said, rising to his feet again slowly. “If you know of any being that is more pure than her –  less deserving of harm – then I invite you to speak their name here!”

The muck-dweller didn’t have an answer, instead offering a resigned sigh.

“Very well,” he begrudgingly said.

“I shall aid you, but only for the sake of the girl.”

“Bless you, brother.” Israphiel bowed his head.

The muck-dweller sighed.

He clasped his hands and closed his eyes, concentrating his thoughts.

Images flashed in his mind.

Visions, of events both past and future:

XIII.

The muck-dweller saw El, in the garden.

And a tree, but not just any tree.

It was a shrunken, gnarled looking thing with withered, black bark. Its leaves were all dead, shed in a ring around it.

“Never eat its fruit,” the man El called Father had warned her.

Sagging off the tree’s spindly branches, were rotten fruits that might have once been apples. Revolted by the sight, and smell of them, El didn’t even want to imagine the taste.

And yet…she couldn’t help but be curious…

On that particular occasion, a white serpent poked its head out from among the blackened branches, startling her.

“Do not be afraid, child.” It hissed.

El froze under its gaze, experiencing fear for the first time.

“What kind of animal are you?”

The snake laughed.

“A friendly kind,” it said. “I’ve watched you pass by this tree many times, but never stop to taste of its fruit.”

“Why is that, sweet girl?”

El swallowed apprehensively.

“Father…told me not to.”

The serpent gasped, but anyone other than El could have told it was fake.

“Now why might that be?”

El thought about it.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. He never did provide her an exact reason.

“That’s a shame.” The serpent sighed. “It could be he’s afraid you’ll like it too much, and eat all of it, leaving the beasts and him with none.”

“I eat it all the time, so I can assure you it is quite delicious.”

El looked at the dangling fruit again.

For something so disgusting, she couldn’t help but wonder what it tasted like, since it did not at all resemble any of the other, perfectly plump and ripe, fruits in the garden.

The serpent’s eyes narrowed as she approached the tree.

“Going to give one a try, sweet girl?”

With a precise swing of its tail, it lopped off one of the fruits, letting it fall to the grass where El stooped to examine it.

“It doesn’t look like any other fruit,” she mused.

“How else might such a precious fruit be protected from being eaten?” The serpent explained. “Your Father made it look this way when he created it, for a reason.”

El supposed that made sense, even as its noxious, sticky juices oozed into her palm.

The snake became still. Watching her.

Suppressing a gag from looking at the putrid fruit one last time, El shut her eyes as she opened her mouth, and–