Born a Monster

287 187 – Sacrifice Someone Else

Chapter Type: Social

In retrospect, I should have been less surprised and offended. The goblins, when they suspected the same lethal injuries, had placed me in the spore pits.

“I’m serious.” I said. “What do you mean, sacrificed?”

The young man looked down.

I sat up, facing the old woman. “If you would, please. Explain.”

“You,” she said, brandishing a fan at me, “could learn some manners. And stop being so stressed; if you work yourself into a heart attack or stroke, we’re still sacrificing you.”

I looked about, realizing that most of the people in the room with me were human. “And these others?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The magical battles at the wall are fierce; we need all the mana we can get.”

“Seriously, if you want necromantic mana, I would think there are enough dead people to provide for dozens...”

.....

She raised four fingers. “Death, Madness, Chaos, Evil. Four taints. Four, the number of Death.”

“So, you do what? Perform the rituals of cleansing about the wall until all the death mana is gone?”

“Don’t be silly; we bury the bones of predatory creatures and criminals outside the walls. As the siege goes on, the battlefield seeps into them, eventually providing further obstacles for the attackers.”

I blinked. “You knowingly let undead things be born?” I raised a hand, “Or create, or animate, or whatever term is used.”

“We let them awaken. Outside the walls, where the nearest life they can feed on are the rebels.”

I made a thoughtful noise, and rested my chin on my hand. I felt fatigue just from sitting up, but had no System to tell me how bad it really was.

“You probably think we must be horrible people to do such a thing.” She said.

“I was actually thinking about many other bad things happen during war.” I said. “I’m sure that this isn’t even top of the list, I’m currently trying to think of something worse than about two hundred hungry ghouls being used as the vanguard to attack farming villages.”

The man blanched. “You kill farmers? Landspeople?”

“Well, not me personally, but yes, it is a tactic where I am from.”

“Barbarism.” The old woman said. “And yet you seem upset that these who are on the border of death still have use.”

Different cultures have different values. Who had taught me that? I think it was the oracle of Apollo the Sun, but I couldn’t remember her name.

Plus, my System was down without so much as a timer. I felt more annoyance than fear; would it be so bad if the System were to just go away, to shut down permanently?
“You are having thoughts.” She said.

“Sorry, distracted.” I said. “How do you determine who ends up here?”

She spread her fan, waggled it in a way I hadn’t learned the meaning of yet. “We do nothing; the injured choose themselves.”

“I doubt any of these people whispered ‘please sacrifice me’ in their sleep. Please be more specific.”

“Most people take a month, or twenty eight days, to recover from a serious injury. If they do not, then it often grows worse. Those who are unconscious for sixty three or more consecutive days without sign of improvement come here. If they must die anyway, we can collect their spill, and ensure that those of note become proper ancestor spirits rather than mere ghosts.”

That’s right; they honored ancestral spirits.

“Wait. I haven’t been unconscious for that long, have I?”

“Four days total.” The man said.

I squinted, then blinked. “Four days is not even close to sixty-three.” I said.

The man swallowed. “Your... your noble wife said...”

The woman snapped her fan shut. “Whatever was said or not said is now irrelevant. You are clearly showing signs of improvement. This place is not for you. When will you be leaving? So sorry, we need that bunk space for someone who is dying.”

I looked around. “Where are my possessions?”

“You arrived with nothing but a linen tunic, you leave with nothing but a linen tunic.” The woman said. “Go see your sergeant or other official.”

I sighed. “I need to ask about my paycheck, in any event. When is the next mealtime?”

The woman shrugged. “Whenever you can get back to your unit.”

“What are the patients fed with?” I asked.

“We can’t spare the broth.” The man said. “I’m so sorry, but our rations are limited, much like the rest of the guardlands.”

I wavered as I stood, but was near enough a roof support to use it until I had my own balance. “Thank you for your time and care, but I think I must find food quickly.”

“If you change your mind and want to be sacrificed, you know where to find us.” The woman said.

And, once I was outside, I certainly did.

This was the ground floor of the main gate. So much for me reporting this to the authorities; if this was going on in the same building housing the general, then it clearly had the approval of the authorities.

Wasn’t my wife assigned here? Or was it the Dusk Gate?

The position of the sun told me I’d missed both breakfast and lunch, and needed to hurry if I wanted to make dinner, which I did. I penned a quick note to Madonna, Noble, Fire Wujia. No sense in irritating her further. Hell has no fury like a demon woman scorned.

I got the tiny scroll into the hands of a messenger, assured her that it could go through channels, and made my way carefully across camp.

It was little use; about a third of the way toward the Rice Gate, the land became muddied.

I didn’t even go directly there, knowing my feet were unacceptable. I had enough time to wait in line for the well. There was no line, only four guards, who directed me to a cart that was passing out pails of salt water.

“You be careful where you step.” The ground sergeant said, “Your shoes are still inside where you left them. But – wash your feet when you can.”

I bowed appropriate for one who had been granted a favor. “Thank you, and have a good day.”

He shrugged. “Such as work permits.”

“Such as work permits.” I agreed.

There was half a bath of filthy water, but still less filthy than my feet. I was taking the water by buckets to the sluice (a drain), and preparing to clean out the tub.

“Ah-ah.” Sister Yoshi said. “YOU are most definitely on bed rest.”

“But- this needs to get done.” I said.

“Bed. Rest. Now.” She pointed.

“Yes, Sister Yoshi. Please do not have me tied to the bed.”

“Thank you. Good to see you on your feet.”

Others felt that way, too. While I had been unconscious, they had played games seeing what gross things I would eat. Between handfuls of corn stalks (not quite grass, but there was enough volume to make up for that), they played it while I was awake. I avoided the filthy, the rotted, anything growing fungus...

But I felt better by the time I could genuinely eat no more.

But the advantage of the real stomach versus my System Stomach is that all the food didn’t have to be the same type, as long as bulk and volume constraints were met.

The disadvantage... is that I had only the one.

This gave me time to chew my food, to appreciate the tastes and textures. Or not, as the case was with the “game food”.

“Men are assholes.” I told Kang Shi.

“Don’t look at me.” She said back, “I fed you a pair of my old socks that were beyond hope of repair.”

“Ick.” I said. “I’ve smelled your feet at night when they are out of the socks and shoes. You should wash them more often.”

“Everyone in this barracks should wash their feet more often.” She said. “But with water being rationed now, also, that will be difficult.”

“But... we are surrounded by ocean.” I said. “Never mind, salt water. Different set of evolutions.”

She looked at me. “You can drink sea water?”

“I was born in the sea.” I said. “I was born able to drink sea water. I won’t smell great, but I can survive on that if you and the others want normal water.”

“I think you’ve been hit on the head too many times, Little Monitor. You smell bad enough without drinking sea water.”



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I made a popping noise with my tongue. “It is good to be back.”

Well, I call him young, but he was in his late twenties to early thirties. His hair was short, except for two bang-braids (from mid-forehead to the ear, tied so that they came down in front of the ears and down the front of the shoulders.

Again, probably not as old as you might be thinking, based on other people I’ve called old. Her hair was mostly gray, with some white, but with more brown. She had the beginnings of wrinkles, especially around the eyes, which WERE old. Her wrinkles indicated more scowling and frowning than smiling.