The Terror Crab was still strutting around the continent, completely unaware that he'd been targeted by something far more dangerous than anything the Conquest Legion could throw at him.
He'd been rampaging for days, crushing fortresses, stealing supplies, killing anyone who got in his way. No one could touch him. No one could even scratch his shell. Finn Marrick's gamble was paying off. The examiners were recording his points, watching them climb higher and higher, fast enough that he was actually closing in on first place. If he kept this up, he might actually win the whole thing.
Too bad he'd run into Laia's followers. The second they'd heard about the giant crab, they'd reported in, planned their attack, and mobilized, all in ten minutes. They didn't waste any time when there was food on the line.
By midday, the crab had wandered to a river, stopping to drink. He was an aquatic beast, after all. He didn't have to worry about osmotic pressure, but he still needed to rehydrate after all that fighting. He lay in the water, resting, ready to go back to rampaging once he'd caught his breath.
He had no idea. The second he'd stepped into the river, he'd walked right into their trap.
Upstream, hidden in the bushes, Lirael the Elven King watched the crab drink, grinning. He turned to Gromm the Lizard King, patting his chest. "Relax. This thing's not going anywhere. We've got this. Just wait for the seasoning to kick in. Tonight, we're having crab feast."
On the hilltop, Korg the Void Ape King stared down at the crab, his eyes glinting. None of them had even stopped to wonder if they could beat it. For hungry men who'd survived the void, food was non-negotiable. You didn't let a meal slip through your fingers.
The crab drank a few more mouthfuls of water, then froze. His whole body started burning. He stumbled, his legs wobbling, his vision blurring.
What the hell?
Upstream, Lirael nodded. Perfect. It was working.
Crab was cold-natured, right? So they'd dumped a whole bunch of concentrated fire nettle extract and high-proof alcohol into the river. Fire nettle was a Rank 3 herb. A tiny sliver of it was enough to let a human swim in freezing water for hours. And this? This was a hundred times concentrated.
They'd basically marinated the whole river. Now the crab was soaking in it, getting seasoned from the inside out. Perfect. Now all they had to do was cook it.
Finn Marrick was watching from his viewing box, and he noticed the change immediately. His crab was stumbling. It was dizzy.
Someone had poisoned it!
He roared, slamming his fist on the table. How? His crab had maxed out poison resistance! It was Rank 5! What kind of poison could affect it?
He had no idea. He knew nothing about herb properties. He knew nothing about cold-natured beasts and hot-natured herbs canceling each other out, or about marinating. He just knew his crab was in trouble.
He didn't have time to figure it out. If Lex attacked now, if the moles attacked now, his crab could die. He had to get it out of there. He had to get it back to the sea, where it was safe.
"Crab! Run! Get out of there! Head for the coast!" He shouted, sending a telepathic command to his follower.
But the crab was too far gone. The alcohol and the fire nettle had gone straight to his head. He was drunk. He looked up at the sky, growling. "Who's yelling? Who's calling me names?!"
He staggered, swinging his claws at the air. "I'll show you! I'll crush you! I'm the big crab! I'm invincible!"
The lizard warriors surrounding him stared, blinking.
Gromm frowned, crossing his arms. "Huh. The thing's drunk. That's what happens when you chug a whole river of alcohol, I guess."
One of the lizards turned to him, confused. "Boss? What do we do now? It's going crazy."
Gromm shrugged. "What do you mean? We take it, obviously. It's already drunk, it'll be easy. Come on!"
He charged forward, leaping onto the crab's leg, biting down on the weak spot at the joint. He managed to tear a tiny hole in the shell, but the crab was so drunk he didn't even feel it. He just kept staggering toward the sea, his eyes glazed.
Lirael frowned. Oh no. He wasn't going to let the food run away. Not after he'd gone through all the trouble of marinating it.
He chanted a spell, ice spreading across the ground, freezing the crab's legs to the spot. But the crab just smashed through the ice, his brute strength too strong, and kept walking. The ice magic that could wipe out a whole battalion of Conquest Legion warriors? It didn't even slow the crab down.
On the hilltop, Korg watched, frowning. Man, that shell was tough. But that was good, right? That meant if he hit it right, he wouldn't break the shell, and the meat would stay juicy.
He didn't hesitate. He grabbed a twenty-meter boulder, hefted it over his shoulder, and threw it. Straight at the crab's head.
Gromm saw it coming, let go of the crab's leg, and jumped out of the way.
The boulder hit the crab square in the head.
The crab let out a tiny, surprised squeak. He stopped, his eyes rolling back, and bubbles started coming out of his mouth. He wobbled, then collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Lirael stared, then grinned. Perfect. Now he just had to finish it off. He pulled out a magic scroll, tore it open, and a massive fireball descended from the sky, slamming into the crab, the fire spreading across the ground, searing the shell, locking in the juices.
Finn Marrick watched, his eyes wide, as his crab collapsed. He couldn't believe it. His invincible crab. His Rank 5 beast. It was down.
He lost it. He couldn't let it die. If the crab died, he lost everything. He didn't care about the rules anymore. He reached out, grabbed control of the crab's body, forcing it to stand, forcing it to run toward the sea. He had to save it.
In the monitoring spire, the examiner stared, then sighed, and marked down half of Finn's points. Direct divine control of followers mid-tournament was against the rules. He'd warned them. But whatever. The kid had made his bed.
---
In her private viewing box, Laia Hayes stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open.
She'd been panicking, at first. She'd seen the giant crab, she'd seen her followers going after it, and she'd been screaming at the screen. "Guys! Don't! It's Rank 5! You can't beat it! You'll get hurt! Come back! Please!"
And then, ten minutes later, they'd marinated it. They'd gotten it drunk. They'd hit it with a boulder. They'd burned it. And now they were dragging it back to the fortress.
She blinked.
"…Oh. You beat it. Huh. Okay. Well. Don't… don't tell Finn I did this? Please? I don't want him to be mad at me. I just wanted to open a sandwich shop. I didn't want to steal his crab."
She buried her face in her hands, groaning. Of course. Of course they'd beat a Rank 5 beast. Just to eat it. Why was she even surprised anymore?
In the monitoring spire, Headmaster Valerius watched the three clan leaders dragging the unconscious crab back to their underground fortress, their cooking pots in tow, and chuckled.
He'd watched the whole thing. The marinating. The getting the crab drunk. The boulder to the head. The fireball. He'd watched Finn lose his mind, break the rules, lose half his points.
He shook his head, smiling. That Finn kid had gambled everything on that crab. He'd thought he was going to win the whole tournament. He'd thought he was the smartest one there.
Too bad he'd run into the moles. Too bad he'd run into the hungriest warriors in the entire realm.
Valerius leaned back in his chair, watching the screen. This tournament just kept getting more and more interesting. He couldn't wait to see what they did next.