Roly's curses came to a sudden halt.
Her tears splashed onto the gravel, kicking up tiny puffs of dust.
“I curse you...” Her voice grew quiet, as raspy as sandpaper. “I curse you...”
Ethan flicked his finger a fourth time.
The fourth light spot went out.
“The fourth one, nine hundred and eighty-seven people.”
Roly's body began to tremble.
It started from her fingertips and spread to her wrists, forearms, and shoulders, until her entire body was shaking like a leaf within the vines' grasp.
She stopped cursing. Her lips quivered, uttering a sound that was like an instinctive murmur.
“Don't... don't... don't...”
Ethan flicked his finger a fifth time.
The fifth light spot went out.
“The fifth one, one thousand three hundred and twenty people.”
“The sixth one, one thousand three hundred and twenty people.”
“The seventh one, one thousand three hundred and twenty people.”
The seventh pile of corpses was carelessly tossed onto the previous ones by the vines, stacking them high.
The pale green bodies were piled layer upon layer, some still twitching slightly, others already completely stiff.
The sandy soil was soaked with pale green blood, gleaming with a viscous sheen under the sunlight.
The stench of blood mingled with the dry scent of the sand, drifting through the hot wind.
Roly finally broke down.
“I'll choose!” Her voice squeezed from the depths of her throat, shrill and distorted. “I'll choose! Please! I'll choose!”
Her body convulsed violently within the vines, tears streaming from her eyes.
Her ears pressed tightly against the sides of her head, and her voice carried a weeping sob as it squeezed out. “I'll choose ten! Spare the others! Please spare the others!”
“Very well.” Ethan crouched down, wiping his right hand through the air. The remaining thirty-two light spots rearranged themselves, hovering before Roly. His voice was as calm as if he were speaking of a trivial matter. “Choose. Ten.”
Roly stared at the light spots. Each spot represented a bunker, and each bunker held over a thousand living clansmen. Her lips quivered, her fingers curled and uncurled, and her long, pointed ears trembled violently.
She reached out, pointing at the first light spot. Her finger was trembling.
“This one.”
She pointed to the second one.
“This one.”
The third one.
“This one.”
With every point, her voice grew a fraction rasper.
By the time she pointed to the seventh, she could no longer form complete words, only producing broken, breathy whispers.
By the tenth, all strength seemed drained from her. Her arm dropped, and her forehead slumped onto the gravelly ground.
“Ten... I have chosen ten...”
As soon as she finished speaking, the ten selected light spots went out simultaneously.
Deep underground, the plant roots in the ten selected bunkers erupted at once.
Vines, roots, and thorns surged from every corner, wrapping around every living thing.
Screams and the sound of crushing bones faintly echoed up from underground, muffled by the heavy layers of earth.
The corpses were dragged from the bunkers by the vines, passing through the soil and dropping onto the pile.
The corpse mound had grown a bit taller.
Ethan released Roly, letting her slump limply to the ground. “Very good, Roly. Your choice has won your people a chance at survival. Now, the Amons in twenty bunkers are still alive.”
Hearing this, Roly summoned strength from some unknown source and struggled to her knees, her forehead pressed against the gravel.
A string of incoherent sounds squeezed out from her throat.
The sound was laughing, crying, and sobbing. Each note seemed violently wrenched from her chest, shrill and raspy.
Tears mixed with sand to form a muddy mess on her face, and her eyes lost their focus.
After a long while, when Roly finally calmed down slightly, she heard Ethan's voice ring out again.
“Very good, Roly. Now, it is time for you to continue choosing.” Ethan waved his right hand, and the twenty light spots rearranged themselves, hovering in front of her. “This time, you can save the clansmen of fifteen bunkers. I only need you to choose five bunkers to be destroyed. Are you ready?”
Roly's smile froze on her face.
She snapped her head up, her eyes reflecting those emerald-green light spots, reflecting Ethan's entirely expressionless face.
“What... what did you say?”
Her voice squeezed from her throat, as faint as a mosquito's buzz, yet sharp enough to pierce the ears.
Ethan looked down at her, the smile on his face growing wider. “Now, you have one more chance. If you do not choose this time, I will directly kill all the Amons. All of them. Since I am in a good mood, I will give you thirty breaths to make your choice.”
Roly scrambled up from the ground.
Her legs were shaking, and the scraped wounds on her knees from hitting the gravel were still oozing blood.
Blood trickled down her shins, leaving a trail of dark marks on the dark red sand.
She stood up.
And then, she charged at Ethan.
“Ahhhhh!”
The scream tore from the depths of her throat. Her face was a mess of tears and snot, her eyes completely bloodshot.
She was bare-handed, blood dripping from between her fingers.
“You demon! You bastard! Beast pup! Worm feces! Swamp muck! Stinking rot!”
She threw herself in front of Ethan, swinging a fist toward his face.
Vines erupted from the ground.
Thick vines wrapped around her ankles, knees, waist, wrists, and neck. They tightened, hoisting her into midair, her limbs pulled in four directions as her joints creaked under the immense strain.
Roly struggled frantically within the vines' bind. Her mouth remained open, her throat still squeezing out sounds.
“Outworlder scum! The Mother Goddess will curse you! Your flesh will be sucked dry by thorns! Your bones will be crushed by tree roots! Your soul will burn in the Eternal Fire for ten thousand years!”
“I'll kill you! I'll watch you die! I'll gouge your eyes out to feed the magical beasts! I'll rip your tongue out and throw it into a cesspool!”
“You will die a horrible death! You will die a horrible death! You will die a horrible death!”
Her voice grew increasingly shrill, increasingly hoarse.
Every curse seemed violently torn from her chest, spraying out along with bloody froth and tears.
Ethan stood in place, watching her.
His face was entirely devoid of expression.
“Eighteen breaths left,” he said.
“Bastard! Pest! Rotten-rooted weed! Sewer sludge!”
“Seventeen.”
“You monster! You damned thing! Do you think you've won? Do you think we Amons are afraid of you? Come on! Kill! Kill everyone! Go ahead and kill!”
“Sixteen.”
“Just you wait... just you wait... the Mother Goddess will punish you... your soul will be torn to shreds by thorns... your flesh will be sucked dry by vines... your bones will be ground to dust by tree roots...”
“Fifteen.”
“I curse your descendants! I curse your bloodline! I curse everyone associated with you!”
“Fourteen.”
Her eyes darted frantically in their sockets, looking at Ethan, then at the light spots, and then back to Ethan.
Rate on N.U.
