The Common Paws rank was the bottom of the barrel for most people. About ninety percent of the world had it, which essentially meant the Great Beastiary didn't care if you lived or died. In the grand narrative of the world, a Common Paws was just someone who existed to die so a more important character could look better. Lemony was now just a regular guy with no special value, but it was still a step up from being a nobody.
As he was thinking, Sissy suddenly reached out and slapped him across the face again.
"Ow! What was that for?" Lemony rubbed his cheek, looking at her with a confused expression.
"You were spacing out again! We have work to do," Sissy snapped. "We have to bury four creatures who died last night because of the aura. Malphas was really cranky, I guess."
Lemony froze for a second. People actually died just from the aura?
"Yes! That's why we were so shocked you just stood there like a statue," Sissy explained. She leaned in closer, her dark eyes wide. "Actually, the boss thinks we need you now. Since you're apparently immune to Malphas, you're our new shield."
Lemony felt a bit worried about that. He looked at her wings and her long hair.
"Listen, butterfly, I don't think I'm a shield."
Sissy's face turned bright red, and she looked like she was about to explode.
"Butterfly? Don't you dare call me that! Butterflies are vain, weak little bugs that only care about flowers. I am a Moth-Soul!"
She huffed and straightened her vest. Moth-Souls were actually somewhat rare. The Great Beastiary Encyclopedia gave them a 1.5-star rating. It wasn't legendary, but it was better than a Pale-Mantle Manul like Lemony, who was stuck at a 1-star trash rating.
Lemony didn't say much else. He just stood up and followed her to the main entrance of the bone fortress. Sissy told him there would be five of them on this trip.
There was Koro, the four-eyed gorilla from earlier, and Ve. Finally, there was Old Horg, a tortoise-kin who moved slowly and carried a large shovel.
The Great Beastiary's words began to form behind a large rock in front of them, hiding from the cast.
Species Name: Tetro-Gorilla
Description: A Gorilla based creature that usually lived by the ocean. (Koro's four eyes aren't from the species but from his own in born traits.)
"Hey, kid," Old Horg said with a kind smile. Koro gave a grunt of acknowledgment, and Lemony just nodded back. He didn't feel like making small talk.
Species Name: Tortoise-kin
Description: Just some old ass turtle, with an enhanced life expectancy.
"Wow, you're a boring guy, aren't you?" Ve the wolf said, showing his sharp teeth as he laughed.
Species Name: Skoll-Wolf
Description: They are.... not known for one reason. Blue Shores.
They started walking out from under the shadows of the massive white ribs. The ground was hard and gray, and the ribs above were so large they looked like white clouds frozen in the sky. Huge cracks ran through the ancient bone, and some parts were covered in a weird, glowing moss. The wind whistled through the gaps, making a sound like a low moan.
They walked past the rows of small huts built into the marrow of the bone, heading toward the open snow where the bodies were waiting. As they walked, Sissy kept talking, pointing at everyone like she was giving a tour.
Lemony moved closer to the old tortoise. The wind was picking up, but the massive white bone above them still blocked most of it.
"Hey, Old Horg. Why is there even a giant rib in a place like this?"
Old Horg leaned on his shovel for a second, his wrinkled face looking even older in the bright light.
"Well, from what I heard before I was tossed into the portal, this rib belonged to a beast that lived way before any kingdom ever stood on the Ouroboros Continent. We're talking hundreds of thousands of years ago."
He looked up at the massive white arch in the sky.
"Back then, Malphas was already around, terrorizing everyone. The ancient heroes couldn't kill it, so they sealed it off in this mountain range. That's why there are so many sealed places across the continent. It's the only way they could deal with beasts they couldn't beat."
"I see," Lemony muttered. That actually made some sense. "How long have you been stuck in here, anyway?"
"I was already seventy when I got sent here," Old Horg said with a little chuckle.
"Now I'm a hundred and fifty. My people usually live to about two hundred, so I figure I've got fifty years left to enjoy the view."
Lemony was actually a bit impressed. Staying alive for eighty years in a place this dangerous was no joke.
Suddenly, Koro held up a hand and the group stopped. He scanned the horizon with all four of his eyes. "We're here. We need to bury these four. Listen up. Keep the holes at least a hundred meters apart. If we group them too close, the Scavengers will notice the smell and come digging. We don't want them hanging around the base."
Koro reached into the large cart they had been pulling and started handing out the bodies, which were wrapped in simple gray cloth. He handed one to Lemony along with a heavy iron shovel. "Get to it. And stay alert. This isn't a playground."
Lemony walked through the crunching snow, dragging the body behind him. He counted his steps until he was a good distance away. He stopped and looked toward the horizon, where a massive tower stood tall. It looked like a lighthouse, but its light was a harsh, sweeping yellow that cut through the dim sky.
Is that what they meant by Scavengers?
Suddenly, the light turned in his direction. Lemony didn't think twice. He dropped into the snow, pulling the gray-wrapped body over him as he buried himself in the freezing powder. He held his breath. The giant beam of light swept right over his position, illuminating the snowflakes like tiny diamonds.
He peeked out just a little bit. On top of that lighthouse, he saw the silhouette of a wolf. It wasn't a normal one; it looked like it was standing on two legs, peering down with a suspicious gaze. The wolf stared right at the patch of snow where Lemony was hiding.
For a long, heart-stopping moment, everything was silent. Then, the light flickered and moved on, sweeping slowly toward a different part of the plains. Lemony waited until the tower was far in the distance before he stood up, finished his job quickly, and headed back.
When he arrived, Sissy and Old Horg were already there. Sissy's dark hair-wings were folded tightly against her back. Since she could fly, she had finished her part way before anyone else.
"Why aren't you just doing this alone if you're so fast?" Lemony asked, wiping snow off his red scarf.
Sissy rolled her eyes. "I can't carry four bodies by myself, genius. Besides, I'm the only scout. If I'm caught, the others are forced to find a new one with no experience."
Lemony nodded. That made sense. Old Horg walked up to them, his heavy shell clinking with the tools he carried. "Did you stay clear of the Scavengers?"
"The lighthouse thing?" Lemony shrugged. "I actually went pretty close to it to see what it was, then I just ran off. I didn't really care."
The air around them suddenly went dead silent. Sissy and Old Horg froze, their faces turning pale. They looked at Lemony like he had just admitted to setting the whole base on fire. Sissy's jaw actually dropped.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Old Horg didn't answer with words. He lunged forward with surprising speed and grabbed the collar of Lemony's red coat. His eyes were bloodshot with panic. "You idiot! You almost destroyed a hundred years of effort! Do you have any idea how much work went into keeping this place hidden? You were being reckless!"
Lemony's expression didn't change, but he grabbed the old man's wrists. "Don't touch my coat," he said coldly.
The tension was thick enough to choke on until Sissy jumped between them, pushing them apart. "Stop it! Both of you!"
Old Horg let go, huffing. He gave Lemony one last look of pure disgust before turning around and walking away toward the ribs. Sissy turned to Lemony, her face full of a mix of anger and pity.
"You need to be careful with your actions, Lemony. You're just so... empty. You just do things without thinking. You act like nothing matters. Have you even ever lived?"
Lemony looked at her. Her words were truthful, and they stung in a way he couldn't quite explain. It was a dull, heavy pain in his chest.
"Live...?" he repeated quietly. "I'm living right now."
Sissy didn't have a comeback for that. She just looked grumpy and frustrated. She turned around, walked to a corner of a massive rib bone, and sat down with her back to him, refusing to say another word.
She sat there for almost an hour, her wings shivering from the cold and her own thoughts. Where were the others? Koro and Ve should have been back by now. She looked over at Lemony, who was just standing in the snow like a lonely, abandoned statue.
Nobody really understands this guy, she thought. If he keeps acting like this, he's going to cause a disaster for all of us.
But then a small idea popped into her head. What if she could change him? If he stayed with the Leftovers, maybe she could actually make him happy for once.
I know! she told herself, her eyes brightening. We should have a party tonight to celebrate Lemony's first day! It would totally fix the tension and maybe he'd finally smile.
She decided to wait until everyone was back to bring it up.
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A few hundred meters away, Old Horg was stomping through the deep snow. He was still fuming.
"A trash cat," he grumbled.
"A literal Pale-Mantle Manul talking to me like I'm some kid. I've survived a century in this frozen hell. Before this, I was a decorated soldier! I don't need a kitten telling me what to do!"
He was so busy being angry that he didn't notice the rhythm of the lighthouse beam.
He kicked a mound of snow in frustration, sending a spray of white into the air.
Suddenly, the world turned blindingly white.
The beam of the Scavenger lighthouse hit him square in the back. Horg froze. His heart hammered against his shell.
"No way," he whispered.
"No, no, no. I messed up. I actually messed up!"
He started to move, but he was a tortoise. Even in a panic, he wasn't built for sprinting.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Black arrows hissed through the air, thudding into the snow around his feet. One grazed his shell, sparking against the bone-like surface. The wolves in the tower had seen him, and they weren't going to let him go.
"Help me!!" Horg screamed.
"SOMEONE! HELP!"
Back at the ribs, Sissy's ears twitched. And as the first reaction of her instinct, she jumped up and unfolded her wings.
"That was Horg! He's in trouble!"
She was about to launch herself into the air, but Lemony suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back down.
"Don't fly aimlessly," he said, his voice flat.
Sissy snapped. She turned on him, her face twisting with anger.
"Are you serious right now? Our friend is dying and you're telling me what to do? You really are heartless! You don't care about anyone but yourself, do you?"
Lemony didn't flinch. He just looked at the ground and spoke calmly.
"If you fly straight there, the wolves will see where you came from. If Horg is caught, they'll know for sure there's a base here. You need to fly, but you have to take a long way around to lose them."
Sissy paused, her anger cooling into a sharp realization. He was right. It was a cold way of thinking, but it was the only way to keep the base safe.
"Fine," she hissed.
"Get on my back!"
Lemony nodded and climbed on, holding onto her shoulders as her dark wings began to beat against the freezing wind.
They soared through the biting wind until Sissy spotted them. Below, Old Horg was stumbling through the snow, and a pack of Scavenger wolves were closing in. He looked completely helpless with his shell scraped and dented from the spear throws.
"Should we help him?" Sissy asked.
Lemony looked down with a cold gaze.
"If we do, they'll follow us back. We risk everyone at the base."
But then, Old Horg looked up. His eyes caught Sissy's dark wings in the sky.
"SISSY! HELP ME!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Lemony winced.
"That old man is actually dumb," he muttered.
Now that the Scavengers knew someone was in the air, there was no more hiding. He looked at Sissy's panicked face and sighed.
"Drop me down. I'll have to fight them."
"Fight? You can actually fight?" Sissy yelled over the wind.
"I'll try," Lemony said.
Sissy dove.
She dropped Lemony into a drift of snow and then swooped low, grabbing Old Horg by the shoulders. She made a disgusted face at the tortoise-kin, clearly frustrated by his mess, before pulling him back into the air.
Lemony stood up in the center of the wolf pack, holding the very shovel he used earlier for the burial. The snow crunched as the leader, a wolf with a scar across his snout, stepped forward.
"Who are you?" the leader growled, baring yellow teeth.
"I'm nothing," Lemony replied.
The leader laughed, a raspy, mean sound.
"Are you really going to fight us all alone?"
"Yes. You're the only ones who heard him, right? I might as well end you here so the word doesn't spread."
Lemony didn't wait. He charged.
Thump!
He slammed the butt of the shovel into the wolf's throat. Another wolf leaped from the left. Lemony spun, using the momentum to crack the spear across the wolf's ribs.
Crack!
"Do you think this is a game, little sacrifice? I'll tear the marrow from your tiny bones and let the crows have what's left. Kill him."
Three wolves raised their bows. Twang!
Lemony's eyes tracked the movement.
His life had been nothing but repetitive, back-breaking labor. Carrying crates that weighed more than he did, dodging the Master's whip when he was too slow, and moving with precision to avoid breaking expensive vases. His instincts weren't born from an academy. They were born from a decade of being a punching bag.
He swung the shovel. Clang! Clang! The iron head of the tool knocked two arrows out of the air. The third one grazed his ear, drawing a thin line of red, but he didn't blink. He charged.
He was fast. Because he was small, he stayed low to the ground, moving more like a blur of red fur than a person. He reached the first wolf before it could reload. He swung the shovel like a bat, catching the wolf square in the throat. There was a sickening crack, and the wolf went down, clutching its neck.
The other two closed in with their jagged daggers. Lemony parried a strike, the iron shovel ringing out in the cold air. It was harder than he thought. These guys were strong. Every time their blades hit his shovel, his arms vibrated with a numbing shock.
He ducked under a wild swing and slammed the edge of the shovel into a wolf's shin. As the creature barked in pain, Lemony leaped up and kicked off its chest, putting distance between him and the leader. He was breathing hard. His muscles ached, but the emptiness in his head kept him moving. He didn't feel the fatigue. He just saw the next move.
"Who... really are you..!?" the leader wolf growled in anger.
Now, Lemony was about to deliver a finishing blow when a whistling sound cut through the air.
Whoosh!
A spear flew past Lemony. It wasn't aimed at him. It hit Sissy right in the base of her hair-wings. She let out a sharp cry and plummeted from the sky.
"Sissy!" Lemony shouted.
It was the first time he had ever raised his voice, and cared for someone else.
In that split second of distraction, the leader wolf swung the hilt of his heavy blade.
Clang!
It hit the back of Lemony's head.
Everything went black.
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Lemony woke up to the smell of old blood and the feeling of the wind pulling at his clothes. He was at the very edge of the mountain. Below him was a dark, infinite abyss. He was tied up tight, the ropes cutting into his skin.
He looked to his side.
Sissy was there, tied up too. She was unconscious, and her beautiful hair-wings had been brutally hacked off.
The wolf leader stood behind them, holding Lemony by the collar.
"It was smart, hiding that base for a hundred years. But that dream ends today. You're just a sacrifice after all."
"Goodbye, nothing."
The wolf kicked Lemony's chest, sending him flying backward over the edge.
A second later, he saw Sissy's body kicked off too. They fell into the abyss, the wind roaring in Lemony's ears as the ground disappeared.
Lemony looked down, and for a second, the height made his stomach turn.
This was it. This was the end the Kingdom wanted for him.
He had always been an emotionless kid. He was a tool, a piece of trash, a lemon squeezed dry. He was going to die just like he lived, with a hollow chest.
But then he looked at Sissy, falling beside him. Her hair was fluttering, and she looked so peaceful even though she was about to hit the bottom. He remembered her voice.
Have you even ever lived?
For the first time, the emptiness in him was replaced by a frantic, burning need to do something. He wasn't going to let her die just because he was a nobody.
He brought his bound hands to his face.
He didn't have a knife, so he used his teeth. He bit into the thick hemp rope so hard he felt his teeth groan and nearly shatter. Blood filled his mouth, but the fibers finally snapped.
His hands were free.
He scrambled in mid-air, grabbing Sissy and pulling her close. He fumbled with the buttons of his red coat, ripping it off despite the freezing air. It was a thin piece of cloth, but it was all he had. He wrapped it around her as tight as he could, tucking her head against his chest.
It wouldn't stop the gravity, but maybe, just maybe, it would keep her from breaking apart.
Then, he twisted his body. He made sure he was on the bottom. He was going to be the cushion.
He was a Pale-Mantle Manul.
He was trash, weak, and disposable.
If one of them had to be crushed by the earth, it was going to be him.
For the first time in seventeen years, his heart hammered against his ribs.
It wasn't the hollow beat of a tool.
It was the desperate thumping of a living thing.
I don't want to be empty forever...