Luring The Giant (Fixed)
he night had fallen, and the weariness of the journey weighed heavy on them all. Crim quietly ate his unappetizing stew, while the Captain, seething with frustration, argued with a captive slave he dragged inside his tent. The rest of the group gathered around Crim's campfire, a reminder of how challenging life could be when he couldn't summon Mana to light things for him.
In the silence that followed, Crim anticipated the moment the giant would catch the scent of blood, mused about the moment he could escape this reality. The slaves and the rider exchanged uncertain glances, trying to decipher whether he was as ruthless as Captain, who had treated them with the kindness of a stone.
"You despicable creature," a young slave declared, breaking free from his restraints. He held a makeshift weapon, a polished stick, and wore a ragged gray robe that barely counted as clothing. Despite his determined gaze, his legs trembled like fragile twigs.
Crim finished his stew. "Take a seat. Grab a bowl and eat, just don't bother me."
The youth persisted, thrusting his stick towards the back of Crim's head. The young man hardly paid any attention to the prodding; it was more irritating than painful, after all.
"I am the hero! You will not hurt any of us here!" The kid preached, and the overseers watched in despair, unsure of the unknowing kid's fate.
"Hero, huh?" Crim chuckled, adding, 'Kid, you might want to reconsider those dreams of being a hero. Unless you have a pain kink.' The kid looked puzzled, unfamiliar with the word 'kink.' But from the back, someone burst into laughter, unable to contain her glee. With a single remark, the heavy atmosphere had lifted.
"No!"
"No!" he yelled. "A hero is the strongest, the purest, and the greatest!" His young mind struggled to make sense of it all, spewing out childish ideals as a defense mechanism. This irritated Crim a bit, but he reminded himself the kid was just that—a kid. More pressing was the need to figure out if the giant was lurking nearby.
"Sir can I have some," a tattered child asked, tugging on Crim's gown. This surprised the others, who were still uncertain about the young man's character. They hadn't anticipated him simply nodding and passing a bowl of pungent-smelling soup, which had been a luxury for them.
The small act increased their respect for him, and Crim figured he might be able to use that to his advantage.
The others rushed in, pleading for a bowl. "Please grant us some." A bit surprised, he dished out bowl after bowl like a cafeteria worker. This brought relief to the driver stationed near the tents, who had been quietly sipping his soup, grateful he hadn't unwittingly become a chauffeur for two troublemakers. The chatter arose.
All of a sudden, the frosty slaves started getting along, except for a few who ate quietly, and the kid who boldly claimed to be the next hero. This disrupted his train of thought for a moment. He briefly pondered if these people could be genuine, even though he was trapped within an illusion. He shook his head, disregarding the idea.
Abruptly, the celebrating came to a halt when the captain appeared with a young boy in tow. The child bore visible marks of scratches and bruises as if he'd been in a brawl. In stark contrast, the captain himself seemed pristine and wore a gleeful expression.
"He's quite easy to rile up, isn't he?' Crim thought isolated. He could still smell the scent of blood, though, unsure whether it was from the finger he'd slipped into his pocket or from his encounter with the tattered boy. Nobody spoke after other than the captain taking a seat next to Crim, giving him an angry side glance like he had stolen his spotlight in a talent show he prepared his life for. Crim sighed.
He nonchalantly ignored the attempts to catch his attention, from Captain. Even the young boy who had stood up to him knew to quiet down to simple mumbles. "You're nothing," Captain whispered, attempting to sound threatening.
Crim remained unfazed. The insult held no weight; for once they were of the same rank—equal status. Crim also knew his standing of being a disgrace among the captains due to his earlier information-gathering. He knew the promise to make him "nothing" wouldn't hold up.
At that moment, Crim felt something approaching. Leaning close to the captain's ear, he whispered, "Who do you think they'd trust more: a promising young man with a bright future or an egotistical troublemaker branded as a disgrace?" The captain finally snapped.
He seized Crim's hand, expertly maneuvered him to the ground, and locked his arm. Crim, thanks to his previous paralysis his arm suffered from the earlier fight, felt no pain
He just smiled, and suddenly, the ground shook hard, like a giant's thunderous footsteps.
Captain let go, his eyes wide with confusion, trying to figure it out.
In the back, the driver remained fast asleep, oblivious.
The slaves began to pray, feeling as if something divine was at play. The young hero raised his stick to shield the girl who tugged on Crim's shoulder.
Crim took out his last bits of food and tossed them into the fire.
Everyone watched him and followed, not quite sure why. Meanwhile, the captain stood still, memories of the shaking flooding back as if he'd been through it all before.
The captain took out his weapon and shield, his body becoming hazy and pale, like a dehydrated vampire.
Crim held in his laugh; the smell had worked marvelously. He willingly vomited out the stew that had contained a lure made from natural ingredients.
Captain looked at him, his final stand weakened.
Crim smiled and waved with his only working arm. If he could use both, he would have jumped and cheered with joy.
The rumbling stopped, and like thunder, a massive foot crushed the campgrounds with a massive bang.
Captain was dead.