I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 874: Sweet Flesh or Sweet Girl

At Zul’Morak’s arrogant invitation, Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. Just escaped one but had to deal with the two others...

With a sigh, he moved to the protracted stone table, sitting across from the two shamans. The fragrance of fat and spices from dozens of meat plates melded with the nutty aroma spilling from three large barrels of beer. A plate of fruit added much-needed sweetness to the overwhelming scents, but even that ended up drowned beneath rings of twirling smoke each time Zul’Morak and Zul’Rakhan blew from their wooden pipes.

They lowered beer horns and pipes, frowning at Bao on his shoulder. Adam used this silent moment to observe Zul’Morak’s face. The hood lay on the shama’s shoulder, and with it the darkness that had veiled his face.

Surface wrinkles, made deeper by the shaman’s scowl, cut through his forehead. His tusks were ivory with minute cracks running along their surface before fading beneath ornamental rings. His grey hair, trimmed in a long braid, ran down his back like a snake freed from confinement.

Adam wouldn’t say Zul’Morak was old. Or rather, that he was much younger than Zul’Rakhan and Zul’Gora. Something like stepping into his later years? Made sense from what he had learned. The closer to the capital he journeyed, the younger the shamans would be.

Zul’Morak broke the silence first with a quizzical tone. "A walking snack... I mean, a baby Pandarok? Mhh. Rare. But my chef should manage something for breakfast."

Bao froze on Adam’s shoulder, her breath caught in her throat in a terrified whimper. Another scary green creature!

Adam shielded her beneath his palm, his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth in retort, but before he could explain, Zul’Rakhan knocked an empty horn on the table. Beer splashed inside, and he handed it to Adam.

"Distasteful joke, Morak. Eat and drink, Adomash. I don’t want you starved for tomorrow’s duel. This might very well be your last meal, so enjoy it." He ignored the fluttering of the house’s cloth and groaned. "This armor... No, you should know what works better for you. As for that panda." He tilted his head. "Did you find it down the gorge?"

Adam drank the fresh beer, then leaned his elbow on the table. "Something like that."

"Curious. Very curious. We let them leave long ago. Too weak. Their flesh..."

Zul’Morak picked up with a snarl. "Need days of boiling to soften the fibers and remove the fat. They work well as dried snacks with their sweet aftertaste, but they’re not worth the effort."

Bao covered her head with her tiny paws, tears welling in her eyes. Without the warmth of Adam’s palm, she felt like something would have broken in her. She didn’t want them to eat her.

Adam moved her gently before his eyes, then kissed her head. "She has sweet flesh because she’s a sweet girl."

Bao lifted her face, eyes wide. A blush crept on her cheeks as she covered her mouth and watched Adam shake his head.

"I’ll eat in my room." He gathered a bit of each type of meat on a plate and rose from his seat. Enough of scaring Bao. "Shamans. I wish you a good night."

"Second floor, third room." Zul’Morak pointed at the stairs behind him. Then, he shrugged as Adam vanished upstairs. "Your champion’s no fun, Rakhan. Sleep? This early? Where are the females, the tradition of spreading lineage before a duel to the death? Our ancestors must cry in their graves. What has Gora been doing?!"

"I did just that." Zul’Gora, who had been peeking through the entrance, strolled in. "You’re champion was there. Four at once? Not bad. But Adomash said it would exhaust him before the duel and ran off."

"Clueless fool." Zul’Rakhan swelled his cheeks with a heavy puff of his pipe. After blowing expanding circles with a headshake, he waved his hand. One of the beer barrels floated beside him as he walked to the second floor. "Though I’m as curious as you are about Adomash, I told you all I knew. I’ll take my leave now."

"Mhh? I thought you’d wait for Gora." Zul’Morak snickered, his eyes darting between the old pair. "You know—like back then."

"That old thing doesn’t even let me call him brother anymore. Look at him! Night just fell, but he’s already off to bed like a rooster." Zul’Gora chuckled as she sat and began to fill her plate.

"There is nothing like back then. You’ll understand one day." Zul’Rakhan’s voice was that of an orc who had experienced the dissatisfaction of approaching the end of his life, an echo that faded with him as he ascended to the second floor.

"Leave him be. I’m more interested in discussing tomorrow’s duel." Zul’Gora shrugged, and Zul’Morak nodded.

When Adam woke up with the rising sun, three more barrels lay empty beside the sprawled shamans, dripping what little liquid remained with soft patters.

Didn’t matter. He moved to the doorsill.

Before he could leave, footsteps echoed from the stairs. Zul’Rakhan emerged, without a wrinkle on his neat robes and with his hood pulled over his face. He sighed at the duo before focusing on Adam. "The ancestral ritual fight starts when the sun shines brightest. You’re not leaving my sight until then."

Adam leaned against the wall while Bao growled. "Not like I’ll try to escape three shamans."

"Not like you would have a chance to. You and your... little friend are exotic beasts in a village full of wolves. You can defend yourself. I’ll give you that. But is a stroll worth risking an injury that would impair you during the ritual?" Zul’Rakhan sat at the edge of the table, grumbling something about youth’s foolishness beneath his breath.

Adam glanced at his copper skin, then leaned against the wall. Fair enough, with slavers and violent orcs around. Not that he believed they could wound him, but keeping his relationship friendly, or at least neutral, with Zul’Rakhan was the most sensible choice.

The sun slowly followed its curve in the cloud-covered sky as he had a silent breakfast with Bao after the shamans awoke. Zul’Morak commanded his warriors to gather the villagers, and soon drums drowned the village in a festive beat.

"You know the rules. As the challenger, you watch from the crowd." Zul’Morak grinned at his peers. "Fret not. You’ll have a better view when my champion beheads yours."

"We shall see." Zul’Gora pushed Adam out, ignoring Zul’Rakhan’s grumbles about him being his champion. Her voice sounded like clashing blades when the villagers spread to let them through the growing crowd. "Show us what you can do with your blade this time."

Adam smirked as he gripped his blade. "Sure."