Gleam [Karma Cultivator Isekai] - Chapter 83: Seleth
Chance arrived to the sound of terrified whispers. The Dancing Cloud sect had deposited him right beside a barricade made of tightly packed wooden spears the width of his forearm. They jutted up into the air above his head, leaning out at an angle.
Around a dozen men stood around him, wearing mismatched leather armor and clutching their weapons with terrified, white knuckled grips. Several of them cried out and jumped back at Chance’s appearance, and one even pointed his spear at him.
“Whoa,” Chance said, raising his hands. “I’m here to help.”
“Put that away,” a grizzled man said, emerging from the thin crowd and smacking the man’s spear to the side. Unlike the others, he wore fitting armor and carried a sword at his hip with the ease and grace of a soldier. He gave Chance a grim look. “Thank you for coming, honored cultivator. My name is Arden, and I’m the captain of the guard for this village.”
“Please, just call me Chance. What’s going on? Where’s the monster?”
“Outside the walls. It’s been walking in circles around us for a few hours now, but we fear it’ll attack at any moment,” Arden responded. He paused for a few moments, and his hand tightened around the pommel of his sword. “Is… anyone else coming?”
“I’m not sure. I’m sorry,” Chance said. “But probably not.”
Arden did a remarkable job of keeping his emotions from reaching his face, but the rest of his men did considerably worse. They all exchanged horrified looks, and several muttered prayers under their breaths.
“It’s not over yet,” Arden said firmly, pounding a fist into his chest plate. “There’s still time for more cultivators to arrive. Get your chins up, you sorry louses. A cultivator has arrived to aid us. Show some damn appreciation and stand ready.”
The shoddily armored soldiers rushed to stand at parade arrest. Chance gave them what he hoped was a comforting grin. They didn’t exactly inspire much confidence, but at least Arden seemed to be competent.
“Forgive me asking,” Arden said, leaning in so he could speak just above a whisper. “But… can you handle this threat without any other cultivators? No others have arrived yet.”
It took an instant for Chance to realize that Arden was actually speaking to him, and not some other cultivator that had somehow materialized beside him. He’d never been called ‘sir’ before, and especially not by someone that looked to be three times his age.
“I’ll do my best,” Chance promised. “I don’t know what kind of monster we’re up against. I’m a Rank Two cultivator.”
Arden’s lips pressed thin. “Then we had best hope that more cultivators arrive. I fear our opponent may be too strong for a Rank Two to defeat on his own.”
“What kind of monster is it?” Chance asked.
Arden gestured for Chance to follow him. He set off at a brisk pace along the wall, and the two of them came up to a lowered gate a minute later. The rest of the soldiers followed behind them, keeping a respectful distance. Arden stopped in front of a small hole between the tightly packed wood and gestured for Chance to peer through.
“You’ll get a glance at it through this,” Arden said. “I don’t know why it hasn’t attacked us yet. The gods must be smiling to give us such grace.”
Chance stepped up to the hole and closed one eye to peek through it. The village sat on a large, grassy field. It stretched on for quite a distance before reaching a tall hill that blocked the rest of his view. Thick holes dotted the ground a few dozen paces away from the village walls.
Seconds passed. A large, clawed foot thudded down on the ground at the edge of his vision. It was covered with heavy green scales, and the claws dug deep into the dirt, pushing new holes into it.
Chance directed his eyes upward, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. The monster’s head loomed over fifteen feet in the air above where he’d been looking. It was long and reptilian, like a crocodile, but with jagged fangs that curled up from all along its lower jaw.
Four bulbous eyes protruded from the side of its head that Chance could see, all sickly yellow and black in color. They darted to and fro, as if searching for something. Chance swallowed and pulled back from the gate, but he could still hear the thuds of the monster’s steps as it paced around them.
“That’s… big,” Chance said finally.
Arden gave him a grim nod. “Yes.”
“I’ll do everything I can to stop it.”
“Then we will attempt to aid you,” Arden said. “And we shall hope that others cultivators answer the call.”
“Your men can fight that?” Chance asked, taken aback. “Without any cultivation?”
“We can do what we can to keep its attention off you,” Arden replied, turning his gaze to the men of the village behind Chance. “If it can buy you the time to fight it back, then our sacrifice will not be in vain.”
They nodded, but the fear was so thick in the air that it was palpable.
God, they’re literally just planning to kill themselves to buy me time. I wish I woke Bella up. I’m an idiot.
Chance shook his head. “No. I don’t need you to throw yourselves into its mouth to help me fight it. I’ll be more distracted trying to protect you than I would be if I fought alone. I will handle this myself. Hopefully, other cultivators will arrive soon and help.”
Arden swallowed heavily. He took a step back and pressed his closed fist to his chest, then lowered into a short bow. The soldiers behind him mirrored the motion with less grace, but all with reverence.
“We will remember what you have done for us, even if the only ones we can tell are the Heralds of the Afterlife,” Arden said. “Honor to you, cultivator Chance.”
“Thank you,” Chance said simply. Anything else would have been a disrespect to them.
“Open the gate,” Arden commanded.
Two guards ran over to a pully at the side of the wooden structure and cranked it, pulling it up with a grinding rattle. Once it had risen halfway, Chance ducked under it and stepped out into the field. The gate thudded shut behind him, but all of them knew it was nothing more than a mental comfort blanket. It wouldn’t stop the monster for more than a second.
The enormous crocodile stopped its pacing, turning to look at Chance. A forked tongue flicked from its mouth as all eight of its eyes locked onto Chance, and its scaly lips peeled back in a snarl.
Chance walked toward it, channeling Essence through his Gate and into his body. A thick cloak of golden mist set in over his shoulders and pooled around his feet, swirling with every step.
The monster watched him approach warily. Chance stopped across from it, keeping enough distance to dodge if it attacked. They stood silently, sizing each other up.
Something about the monster felt… more than the ones Chance had fought before. It wasn’t the size, either. It took Chance a moment to realize what it was. The crocodile felt intelligent.
“Can you understand me?” Chance asked, not expecting to receive much of an answer.
“Yes,” the crocodile replied in a coarse, ragged voice. Its tongue flicked out. “I hear your words, little cultivator.”
“Turn back,” Chance said, hiding his surprise at the monster’s response. “If you can understand me, than I do not wish to fight you.”
The monster let out a hissing cough that Chance suspected might have been a laugh.
“I will not. I have been waiting. I must eat.”
“Eat something else. Those are intelligent people. They have every right to live, just like you.”
The crocodile’s claws dug into the dirt as it shifted its stance and reared back, sitting on its haunches. It stared down its long snout at Chance like he was a particularly interesting insect.
“Food is food. I do not weep for the sow because it squeals. It is simply a law of nature. I must eat to survive.”
“Then why pace around the village?” Chance demanded. “You could have attacked at any time, but you waited. Doesn’t that mean you might be having misgivings, or you don’t want to attack?”
The monster let out another hissing noise. This time, Chance was sure it was laughing.
“I waited because I hoped that more cultivators would arrive. Alas, only you have come. You will do little to sate my appetite, but I have no other choice. If I do not eat, I will die. Do I not have the same right to live as all others?”
“Can you not eat something else?”
“I am not blessed like your kind,” the crocodile replied, its eyes narrowing in jealousy. “I cannot cultivate in any manner but by consuming flesh and drawing the power from it. If I wish to survive, I must consume. This is my lot.”
Chance dug through his head, trying to find a response, but he realized that there was truly nothing he could respond with. He drew in a slow breath and let it out through his nose.
“I am sorry.”
“As am I. It is rare that I encounter a cultivator that seeks to speak with one of my kind,” the crocodile said. “It is unfortunate that we meet. When this battle is concluded, I will carry a part of your will with mine. Our strength shall be one.”
To most, Chance suspected that would have been a threat. He was surprised to find that he didn’t take it as one. In a twisted way, he suspected it might have actually meant to be comforting. A profound sense of sadness welled in his throat.
“I will offer you the same honor,” Chance said. He extended his hand and his bracelet slithered into his palm, forming into an urumi. “I am Chance.”
“I am Seleth. Come, Chance. Let us see whose desire to crush the heavens within our grasp is greater.”