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Ashlani's Reincarnation [a LitRPG Adventure]

As a soon-to-be chieftain, Ashlani's responsibilities were numerous, complex, and often boring. As a recently reincarnated keelish (a reptilian pest), his responsibilities only extend to 1. survive another day, 2. keep his belly full, and 3. kill anything that keeps him from numbers 1 and 2. Oh, and, if the opportunity arises, take revenge on his friend turned brother turned murderer. Ashlani was sent on his inaugural hunt as the chieftain-to-be of his tribe when he was shot in the back by the man he was closest to, the one he called his closest friend. Post-mortem, he was greeted by a [System], the elect, singular keelish representative. Now, his focus must be on continuous growth and evolution, to awaken to his grand potential, and lead his new people to a new age. This is a reboot of my previous novel, Ashlani's Reincarnation, a grimdark take on a LitRPG reincarnation novel. This is a slower, more methodical approach to story, and I hope that its quality will reflect that. I update five times a week, usually weekdays, but if I miss a weekday, I make it up over the weekend.

No_creative_name · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
248 Chs

Chapter 236

It was a stressful hour, but in the end, Took came out of unconsciousness long enough to mention how hungry she was, so I allowed myself to breathe normally once again. Now that I had finally shaken myself out of the worried stupor brought about by Took's uncertain state, I began to feel the agony of my roasted hand, even through [Pain Tolerance]. I wanted to let myself sink into some sort of philosophical contemplation on the continuous damaging of my right arm and hand, but, frankly speaking, my mind was wholly consumed by the mind-breaking waves of suffering that shot continuously up my arm. A flashing [System] notification tried to get my attention, but completely failed to do so over the still surging pain that caused me to involuntarily groan.

"Ashlani? What's wrong?" Vefir looked quizzically at me, initially confused. His eyes quickly found my hand. "Nievtala still hasn't blessed you with wisdom! You're always doing something stupid like this." With a soft whistle, Vefir called over the resting Etra, and they both inspected my hand disapprovingly.

Though she didn't say anything, Etra looked down at me with hooded eyes, the disapproval dripping down so thickly it almost soothed the agony. A faint sliver of my khatif superiority reviled at the treatment and I wanted to make some snarky remark, but couldn't muster it through the literally blistering pain. "Now, let us attend to the fruits of your foolishness." Vefir said.

With a grunt of effort, the two healers mustered the dregs of their magic to begin alleviating my injury. I could see the faintly luminous light shimmering as it traveled from their hands into my own, and as soon as the light made contact, it surged like a wave through me, cooling and healing my scorched flesh. With a shudder, I slowly calmed myself and let the healing wash over me, settling more comfortably into the keelish squat my legs were well suited for.

"So what boneheaded idea led to this potential disfigurement?" Vefir's disapproving gaze hadn't faltered throughout the healing, and now he turned its full focus on me, Etra's presence silently lending his complaint greater credence. Before I said anything adversarial, Sybil's head poked over Vefir's shoulder and, seeing my injury, approached and leaned against me. 

My mind had cleared enough to begin formulating excuses, reasons, and indignance, but I recognized the reality of their concerns, and instead spoke humbly, "I wanted to make sure Took survived. Tried to burn her worst wounds closed… I should have used a tool instead of my hand, but wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry I made that misjudgement."

Vefir's mouth dropped open, surprised, while Sybil hissed her disapproval. While Sybil and Etra fought to compose themselves, Vefir managed to close his mouth consciously and chuckled ruefully. "If you're that way about it, then I have nothing else to say. You're a great leader, and your swarm appreciates that you care for individuals as well as the collective, so make sure to take care of yourself individually so you can keep taking care of the swarm."

Though surprised at how eloquently and directly he'd said it, I nodded in agreement and acceptance, then stood up and rolled my shoulders. "Then. Let's get going, we have several trips ahead of us, and I'd like to be done before dark."

Vefir chuckled. "And where are you going?"

"Our hunt was successful, and I'll be a fangless gummy if I let the meat of that beast expire before the swarm gets their turn at it."

"You must have been hurting more than I thought…" Vefir gestured at Joral coming down the mountain above us. He and his wolfstags were carrying quite a few of the goats down the slope, busily hauling the prey back to the swarm. 

"How many trips left, Joral?"

"Last one, Alpha." Joral's tone was serious but his face only barely concealed a self-satisfied smile. "Anything else we should do up there?"

"You brought down the Nanuk?" I couldn't quite hide the disbelief in my tone. 

The smile spread, infecting Joral's tone, "It took six of us, but yes. It's waiting alongside the rest of the swarm for you to begin the feast."

"Good job Joral. You're growing well." I patted him on the shoulder as he grunted, smiled, and heated up to my perception as he literally glowed under my approval before resuming his journey with a spring in his step. I realized I truly meant the words—Joral had passed the young stage of uncertainty and into true adulthood as a khatif, the leader of a potent pack of predators. He now had grown into the role that I'd imagined for him when I first saw him leading his brood. Now, though, a worry began to sprout in me—what would happen years down the road, when my children were born and aged to adulthood? Would the old guard accept them like they had accepted me? Joral, and whoever else had joined what should become a nation of keelish, or even Keel, would they demand that leadership be determined by the defeat and destruction of those who came before? Would Keel be twisted to arrogance and ambition like khatif to superiority? Was there anything I could do to ensure that an empire created by me ended up a dynasty, not a splintering facade…?

Before my worries could fully spiral under the influence of my addled mind, I consciously forced myself instead to focus on the now, since there wasn't anything I could do right this moment to fix or order that future. Instead, I accompanied my pack back, supporting Took, and looked forward to the taste of the peak predator, the Nanuk. 

It was about ten minutes worth of travel to get back to the swarm, and though I had largely been healed, every step sent a jolt of pain through my hand. I forced myself to gratitude for the suffering, As we approached, Took forcefully stood up straight, shrugged off my support, and walked herself back into the… camp, for no better way to call it. It wasn't quite organized enough for me to be happy to call it a camp, but there wasn't any other way to describe the conglomeration of creatures before me. 

Around the edges were the least civilized, the least changed by Took, Shemira, and Sybil's ministrations over the past weeks. They numbered about 100, which, considering how many of the slavering beasts we had absorbed into our own numbers, was a respectable decrease. These fringe members generally stuck to themselves, but were willing to follow instructions to go on the hunt. They were sullen most of the time, seemingly because of the command not to rut, since we couldn't bring the eggs with us and I didn't want to simply abandon them. It was interesting to note that while some of the keelish from Farahlia's swarm had evolved into khatif (herself included), none from this fringe group had.

Moving further inward were the rest of the keelish who had come from Farahlia's swarm. There were a couple dozen of fledgling khatif here, primarily of the Kha'Tal (civilian) and Sik'Tal (hunter) castes, with a single Hak'Tal (warrior) standing head and shoulders among the rest. How I and the others of my elites knew this difference in name for these different castes, I couldn't say, but the titles came naturally to us. These khatif moved easily among themselves, but had established packs, those they hunted with regularly, or those with whom they worked at whatever they needed to do. 

Finally, there was the literal inner circle. There, the original swarm stayed. Foire, Silf, Sybil, Shemira, and the rest milled about in this section, awaiting Took, Vefir, and my "official" arrival. Strewn about within this inner circle were various stacks of meat, all piled high with the massive corpses of the goats we had successfully hunted, and the wolfstags circled around, keeping an eye on the piles of meat and inhibiting any overeager members of the swarm from approaching before it "was time".

Upon seeing Took approach under her own power, the members of the inner circle visibly stood taller, and the members of the general body cheered, some more excitedly than others. Took raised a hand in acceptance of the congratulations and cheers, and then deferred to me. With a smile I stepped forward and spoke:

"I'll be brief. We encountered a powerful foe, fought it, and slew it! Feast to victory! Feast to the blood spilled by friend and foe! Feast to Nievtala!!"

At my words, the swarm cheered and the feast began. Finally, as I turned to my personal meal of Nanuk flesh, I acknowledged the flashing [System] message:

[Skill: Pain Tolerance advanced. Quest complete. New Quest acquired.]

Thanks for reading! 

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