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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 · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
248 Chs

Chapter 122

After I ripped the terrorbird's head from its neck, I let the body slump to the ground and rolled my shoulders. I hadn't thought through the wisdom of throwing that first one. Though it was the smallest terrorbird I'd seen, it still weighed hundreds of pounds, and I'd slung it over at its mate without thought or preparation. Between that and ripping the head off of the second with sheer force, I'd at least hurt my shoulders and back, if not injured them. And, of course, it was my right shoulder, as always.

Regardless of the discomfort, though, [Pain Tolerance] let me stay upright and act as if I hadn't stupidly hurt myself. Something I'd come to learn was that [Pain Tolerance] only allowed me to better mask and deal with pain, not that it kept me from feeling it, and I was feeling more than just a little foolish after nearly dislocating my shoulder in my eagerness to literally tear the terrorbirds apart. 

The two terrorbirds were themselves more than enough for the hatchlings to eat themselves into unconsciousness, and with the hunt complete, the pack gathered up to drag the bodies back to our den. Just as they were about to, I remembered Redael's command–not to drag anything to the den. His caution was correct, we didn't want the humans to find our den without even realizing we'd led them there.

With a sigh, I began to cut the bodies into sections small enough to be carried without dragging. With the assistance of [Quaking Claw], I felt the bones separate and cleave through under my claw, and though my shoulder and back continued aching and hurting, it wasn't long before the job was done. I was grateful that most of the pack that was here was khatif, so much larger and stronger and more able to carry things above the ground than mere keelish, and that let me leave all the carrying to the rest of the pack. 

I walked without showing my weakness and soreness, though Treel kept herself in front of me and clearing the way. Though there was no way she could have known my discomfort and struggle, I was grateful for her assistance, unintentional though it may be. The journey back to the den was uneventful, though the area was unfamiliar to us and we needed to move more slowly to ensure we didn't unintentionally enter any area that was potentially dangerous. Though we didn't fear any of the creatures that we thought might be found nearby, we were staying prepared and cautious as we scouted out the surrounding area.

With Foire's guidance, it wasn't long before we had circled back to the entrance nearest to the eggs' den. I barely kept myself from stumbling down the slope, and I found myself tamping down frustration at having to enter the dark, cool underground. I wanted to bask in the light from the suns, but I couldn't do that, with the rainy season being constantly overcast or raining… a thought crossed my mind, and I barely kept myself from nearly skipping down the tunnel to the den that part of the pack had set up in in preparation for the hatchling's hatching. 

Within the den, Vefir stayed constantly observing the eggs, somehow feeling their vitality with his magic. It was something different from any Speaking I had seen, even Soulspeakers were unable to communicate with the unborn, and though Wavespeakers could use some sorts of healing, they couldn't feel life the way that Vefir could. He was, by every understanding that I had of the concept, obsessed with the eggs. Every waking moment, he was looking at them, and though his prediction of only one day before hatching was proven incorrect, he was growing ever more familiar with them, having selected a couple that he was convinced would be future Alphas. 

Given Vefir's obsession, it did not surprise me that it took three tries to get him to actually look at me when I tried to get his attention.

"Sorry, Alpha. What is–" Vefir cut himself off as he cocked his head and looked closely at my shoulder. He seemed just as surprised as I was to see whatever he saw. "You need healing, and rest. Walk with me."

Vefir's growing confidence and ability to take charge of healing was heartening to me, and I began to follow him, before I looked across the den, hoping to see… yes! "Solia, Sybil, please come with us."

Both followed without complaint, Sybil issuing a quick command to Etra, who nodded and began to do whatever it was that she was commanded. Sybil's manner and bearing while commanding Etra was so different from her interactions with Shemira, so much more serious and unengaged. Shemira and Sybil were companions, while Etra was a subordinate. I didn't think any further on that as both of the females I'd called fell in step behind me as the four of us walked to the nearby den we had requisitioned.

So far as we could tell, the den was from a defeated, grown, or changed pack that had moved on, whether by location or end of life. Regardless, there was a smaller den that could fit about half my pack within it close enough to the eggs' den, and within it, we had part of the pack staying while we were in charge of keeping an eye on and raising the newest hatchlings. And, more importantly, within was a sand bath.

As Vefir began to work his magic into my shoulder and from there to my back, Sybil and Solia looked at me in askance. I closed my eyes and grunted in relieved discomfort as my shoulder forced itself back into its most natural position before opening my eyes and looking at Solia. "How much can you control your fire?"

Her tail flicked, agitated, and she answered, "I'm working on it every day. I've 'tanned' the hides like you've seen, and I fried the wolfstags in their den. What do you need me to do, if it's between those extremes?"

"See if you can warm all of the sands from the bath. Not enough to burn whoever touches them, but warmer than my body."

Solia cocked her head before turning and laying a constant, low flame over the mass of sand for maybe a minute. Once she stopped and the blinding incandescence of heat from the flames faded, the sands radiated a hot orange before my thermal vision. Apprehensive, I reached out with a hand and mixed the hottest top sand with that below it, and to my vision, it cooled to a warm orange. Perfect.

"Thank you, Solia. That's perfect."

She looked at me, confused, curious, and altogether unsure, but after thinking about it, she decided not to ask and instead bowed before walking out. Vefir sent another pulse of magic through my shoulder before speaking up, "Don't strain it again until I say so. You don't need to do anything that'll hurt it again soon." Then, he too left, to go back to the eggs, I was sure. That left only myself and Sybil.

Sybil looked up at me without speaking. I met her eyes, and with a little smile asked, "Would you like to bathe with me?"

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