My Parasite Skill System

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It went like this: hearing he talked; the chief quickly gestured to Tattooed with his chin; Tattooed went rushing to them.

Thud, thud, thud!

Tattooed rushed to the talkative human–he was menacing their peace!

Paf!

He'd been kicked real good in the stomach.

Poor boy.

And he was kicked two times again after that. With each blow, he grunted painfully.

And then seemed to be knocked out by the repeated impacts.

The humans–they didn't want to die just like this.

What had just happened?

It was their way out of this.

Would they stop trying after that which resembles much a failure on their part?

Certainly not.

One human, right next to the young face, who was only clenching his teeth and pressing his lips against one another like a rude yet thoughtful and caring dog burst in his turn:

"My–my young prince! Damn you, orcs! They–they–young adventurer–Ugh!–they won't dare execute you nor us! We have too much value as hostages, they know it just well–fear not!–Ugh!–Argh!"

Oh-ho? They seem to have prepared that.

And the knight in shining armor–that seemed to be in his fifties–took over.

Though it was all the same.

Each time the aged human spoke, he received a stroke right placed in the stomach.

But he didn't waver.

"–Never give useful intel to them, they've lost already!–Agh!"

He seemed to be sturdy. And his rapid-moving pale lips seemed to have finished their speech, hah.

Did Tattooed Orc stop, though?

He didn't.

A few other blows were to be granted to that knight; this latter received them humbled and obliging.

Grunting over groaning, he endured. Tattooed stopped, though reluctant. The chief had said something which calmed the reddish orc down.

What a special thing to be taking place before my eyes. This was new to me. And … I didn't really know why or how, but I seemed to be enjoying it. I craved for more and thought it was over anyway.

…

But it wasn't over yet–come on, kid, say something, go get 'em! "I'm the prince of the noble Rinceville Kingdom!–My sister will save us!–Akh!–the heroes from the other side will also come–Ugh!–the orcs're the evil ones!–Ugh!"

Then he stopped, coughing blood, receiving even stronger blows, lying down the ground, and painfully breathing.

He must've lost consciousness for real, this time about.

I only observed keeping my mouth shut.

Didn't they understand, though, the humans?

He called me a monster.

I mean, from what I gathered of what just happened … they're thinking of me as their friends, eh?

Tattooed handled his job just finely.

I turned back to my abductors very casually,

"Okay, and so where was I again?

"If I just have to kill these folks: I will."

And I said no further words.

I believed the humans were right, however. Briefly: weren't they hostages? Why kill them?

But anyway, I'd grown bored of staying here. The princess and Old must be waiting for me, at this point.

That, and … oh! And that's true I've called Old with my howling (just as he indicated me to do), but he hasn't even shown up, heh.

Well, getting this done with is just getting this done with.

I didn't say any further words. There was nothing more to say.

Turning back towards them, I watched and walked as slowly as possible.

They're already quite defeated. What is there to defeat more in that?

On one end of their row, one of them was unconscious. The one human right next to him wasn't so much unconscious, but clenching his fastened fists into balls pressing them upon his back; he was cursing at all this, I'm sure.

The rest of them, going further along to their left, others just trembled and said nothing, behaving the best they could.

They're already defeated … and dead, at this point.

❮Quest: 22/30 enemies dealt with.❯

Still walking towards them, "Too bad there aren't enough, though…" I muttered to myself. "And so, I'll have to kill more afterward, huh."

And abruptly jumping from his throne, "Yes!"

Did Chief Orc listen to my mumblings?

"You will ha–have … to kill more after…ward."

Oh?

"Sure, yes, I know I will, but … wait, do you know about the quest?"

"Hm?"

"Never mind."

Having just stood up, he climbed down the only meek step of his ugly bony throne.

Waving at his people behind and next to him by his sides, he spoke a few words.

They were to be dismissed I think. The tense and orderly mood ruling over to this place loosened up at once.

Some left, some stayed.

I didn't pay attention to them.

He began to walk towards me–but changed direction right away and was now facing Tattooed.

And they reunited.

Tattooed was about one foot taller than his chief.

Chief placed a hand on the big creature's shoulder. They began to talk, rather happily at that. Tattooed was excited, and so was his chief, even so he tried to conceal it the best he could.

I noticed they threw glances at me as they spoke in their tongue. I must've been the topic of their conversation, right now.

And they both seemed even happier, now.

It was as if I wasn't about to do what I'm about to do.

I thought I must only be inside of some random slaughterhouse … maybe.

I found that funny, for some reason.

And I'm gonna have to get down to it, now. Otherwise, I'm not leaving this place since I've accepted their offer.

Being honest and upfront with them, I got to do what I said I'd do. This is called being virtuous … I think.

Hmm … though I gotta say, I kind of feel bad for having to reap them like this … if it were only up to me, I'd have had them fight a real fight.

It'd have been even funnier, right?

Anyhow, I arrived before them.

From my tiny stature, the little butcher looked down at the meat, lined up and still, just here.

My arms were crossed–I uncrossed them.

Going from the right end of the row to the left end, they were just eight.

Again, the quest said twenty-two.

Let's begin with the unconscious one.

Whatever he told me about his sister or some heroes from the other side that's going to save us (humans) or some stuff, it doesn't really concern me.

I knelt down beside him. "Claw," I whispered.

And my claws, at each end of my fingers, just about went out, showing off how sharp they were.

How should I be doing that?

Seizing with one hand his head, by the hair, I made his throat visible to me–and made some apparent noises doing that too–the knight in his shining armor gave a start, "No…! Where are they?" he shouted, though only whispering to himself.

His head and eyes were searching around, as though they weren't blindfolded.

And his ears were sniffing around–even though they only were ears and not nostrils; that's how it felt to me–they sniffed around.

My complexion was just that of an indifferent man who'd just been offered freedom, in exchange for which he only had to go and pluck some fruits of some random tree; which fruits the man would even be able to consume for his own sake and convenience, as he saw fit.

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