Kill them! Kill them both!

I'm pissed. I'm pissed. I'm fucking pissed.

I stomped my way towards the hill, trying to calm myself down, but this annoying feeling of irritation didn't leave my heart.

Why am I so pissed?

"Should I kill them?" a little voice suddenly spoke up.

"What?"

I winced at Cottontail's unexpected proposition.

"You're upset," she explained, seeing the surprise on my face.

I don't usually let my emotions be apparent, but Cottontail perfectly read through me. [Familiar Contracts] synchronized emotions between the contractors, allowing the familiar to understand better its master's needs. Being bound together, Cottontail could easily gauge my emotional state.

"It's fine," I told her.

"But they've upset you," the fox girl insisted anyway, "they should be punished for it."

I sighed.

"Cotton," I called out, "you can't go around killing people just because I'm a little upset."

Cottontail frowned, clearly disagreeing with me.

"Besides, it's not them," I continued, "it's me."

I was being abnormally irritated. Slaves couldn't be blamed for their situation, they were the victims in this story. I perfectly understood that. Yet, I couldn't help but feel irritated looking at them. And it wasn't empathy that I was feeling. Not even close.

Unhappy with my decision, Cottontail fell silent, sulking behind me.

Trying to settle down this growing feeling of annoyance in my heart, I continued walking for a few minutes. Then, having reached our destination, I stopped, my eyes cast up a small hill, on a huge canvas shelter.

Okay, I'm here. If Troy's alive, this is where I'll find him. It's also where I'm most likely to find the slavers' leader. Killing two birds with one stone. But how do I get there? The shelter was guarded, clearly secluded for a reason.

"What are you looking at?"

Not too far from here, a slaver noticed me approaching.

"Fall back in line," he ordered with a raspy voice.

The slaver gave me a threatening glare, warning me not to come any closer. Guessing that he was probably on watch, I suddenly figured out how to go to the canvas shelter. If the slavers won't allow me to go there by my own will, I just need them to be the ones to bring me there, just like with Troy. In other words, I just need to commit an act of insubordination.

"Didn't you hear me?" the slaver growled as I didn't budge, "fuck off."

The slaver was not alone. There were three of them, all seated around a fire. But considering their red flushed cheeks and the bottles lying discarded on the ground, they had clearly been drinking all afternoon. Perfect. Alcohol makes people sensitive, easy to provoke.

"Dickhead," I spat, not missing the opportunity to vent all my frustration on him.

The slaver flinched at my random insult.

"What did you say?" he frowned, unsure of what he just heard.

"Arsehole."

Confused at first, the slaver exchanged an inquiring look to his pals, but they were just as bewildered as him.

"Are you guys allowed to drink during your watch? I didn't know they hired drunkards among slavers. Having a hard time because how pathetic you are?"

Finally giving in to my provocation, one of them stood up. His legs wobbling, struggling to keep balance, he gave me a threatening glare.

"Hey, you! Come over here!" he ordered.

Complying, I came to their meeting, followed by Cottontail. Once I was finally in his reach, the slaver grabbed me by my collar.

"Do you want to die?" he scowled.

He was reeking of alcohol.

"Not really," I responded, turning my head away so as not to smell his breath.

"Seems to me like you're asking for a beating," the slaver sneered, "and if that's the case, you only had to ask! I'm quite good at beating people, you see?"

"Yeah, I bet," I taunted. "You look like the kind of dude who beats his own wife. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she ran off with a younger guy."

His smirk disappeared and his eyelids twitched. Obviously, I hit a nerve.

"Or maybe she just ran off because you're a drunkard and you look like a squid," I rubbed it in.

His two pals bursting out in laughter, the slaver shot them a deadly glare.

"Quit it!" he ordered. "I'm going to kill you!"

But his friends completely ignored his threat.

"Touché?"

Enraged and humiliated, the slaver returned his attention to me. He strengthened his grip on my collar and pulled me, lifting me up close to his face.

"You little shit! Seems like you forgot your place," he snarled. "Since you want to die so bad, I'll give you a glimpse of hell!"

"Come on, dude!" one of his pals called out, choking down his laughter. "She's a Chosen One, you're going to drop her value."

"He's right," the other added, "it's not everyday we have a Chosen One in our stock. You don't want to piss the boss off, do you? Don't let her get to your head!"

But the slaver clicked his tongue.

"Don't worry about that," he growled, "I won't leave a scar."

His eyes locked on me, he grabbed one of the bottles laying on the ground and smashed it, splintering the glass. Understanding that it was pointless to insist, the two other slavers didn't try to stop him. One of them sighed, scratching his head, while the other simply shrugged as the drunkard brought the broken glass to my neck.

Mmmh… What about the canvas shelter?

However, before the glass could sink into my flesh, Cottontail stepped forward, grabbing the slaver's arm.

"What do you want, midget?" he scowled, glaring at her. "Stay out of this if you don't want to get beaten as well."

But Cottontail did not let go. She reaffirmed her grip instead, impassible. However, behind this mask of indifference, I could feel her emotions flowing within me. And I immediately understood what she had in mind.

"Cotto-"

Before I could stop her, a loud cracking noise sounded in our ears, soon followed by the shrill cry of the slaver. Seared by pain, the drunkard immediately let go of me to grab his arm. Disoriented, the two other slavers didn't immediately understand what just happened.

"Fuck! That little bitch just broke my arm!"

There was not a single drop of blood, but there was a clear mark of Cottontail's grip on his arm, so it wasn't so difficult to imagine the cracked bones underneath. And merely a few seconds later, his skin started to rot, eaten away by an evil power, craving for destruction. Dark magic.

"What the fuck is that?!" the drunkard shrieked.

"Cotton!" I called. "Have you forgotten about what I told you?"

"He was going to harm you," she explained unapologetically, "it is my duty to protect you."

Those goddamn contract terms!

"Kill them! Kill them both!"