Campaign 18

Malachi was finally released from his detention. The first place he went to was the special place allotted to his tamed monsters. A cave located at the base of the mountain where the academy was built on. The detention center where he was detained was located at an isolated ridge overlooking the field and, further down, the dormitories. He had to go down if he wanted to see Shyama and Jin.

He paused for a while when he got outside and scanned his surroundings. Looking to the left, there was a pair of guards patrolling the ridge. To the right was a class returning from the field.

‘Looks like Alexa isn’t here…’ he mused, ‘That’s good…’

Malachi looked over the ridge. Below him was the field, and there was a class being drilled by Axton. From where he was, he was bowled over from hearing Axton’s booming voice.

“You call that running?! I’ll give you something to run for!”

Axton was chasing after the dregs of the class he was drilling. Malachi had a wry smile seeing how peaceful the academy was.

‘Now then, I don’t really want to run into her after that,’ he thought, ‘and I don’t want others to tell here where they saw me. Climbing down the cliff side will make me too conspicuous… so that leaves only one other option.’

Malachi began tapping his fingers in a rhythm and slowed his breathing. He nodded his head and tapped his feet to the same rhythm. He maintained the same actions for a few seconds, and then took a step forward to the stairs down.

He ran across the same class that was returning from the field. When the cadet at the lead was about to look at Malachi,

“Si—ce…” he said in Perlasian tongue, “Sec—t…”

The cadet stopped in his tracks, making those behind him bump into him.

“Hey! What did you stop for?!”

“Uh, I’m certain I saw Skaria in front of me… but…”

“Skaria? There’s no one in front of you! I know you’re tired, but we’re all tired too! Move it!”

The bewildered cadet was pushed forward by his classmates. Malachi sidestepped to avoid the rushing crowd as he “hid” himself.

“S—ence… S—ret…”

He repeated his strange chant the more he weaved through cadets, soldiers, and faculty. However, with the increasing number of people he had to pass by, his concentration was always at the limit. His eyes looked straight without blinking, and his sweat poured incessantly under the unforgiving sun.

This phenomenon was the same when he sang as he ran from the Hell Worm. It was also the same when he chanted as he ran through the kill house, and when he shared the effects to his class—the one that they thought was magic. He used sounds—words—to influence the people who “heard” him. It was the same phenomenon that allowed him to take full control of the Royal Army squad during the Fire Ant incident.

Now, he was using this to hide himself in—as literal as it could be—plain sight. “Silence” to have others be unaware his voice, his noise; “Secret” to have others not perceive his figure, his image. He was like a ghost, shifting and passing through all he came across; all through hypnotic suggestion using sound.

After a half hour of shifting through the sands of people, he finally arrived at his destination. Malachi still kept his vigilance as he entered the cave, but there was a surprise waiting for him instead.

“Grr?”

Shyama was looking directly at him. The Manticore was lying on the ground with the Hell Worm nestled in her fur. When Malachi entered, Shyama perked up and looked at him. Jin was still in torpor even when she moved.

“Looks like your sense of smell is just as good as I thought it would be,” commented Malachi, “How are you guys?”

Shyama rose from the ground and went towards Malachi to lick his face. Jin also woke up when it heard his voice, raising its body from Shyama’s back to reach out to Malachi. Jin wrapped itself around Malachi’s shoulders, rather than his neck, to form a shawl of insect carapace.

“Have you eaten?” asked Malachi, “What do Hell Worms eat besides Fire Ants, anyway? Manticores can eat meat, so Shyama shouldn’t be a problem.”

Shyama answered by pushing Malachi deeper into the cave. When Malachi went forward, he saw a deposit of pyrocite crystals.

“Uh, pyrocite? What about it?” he wondered, “Wait… seriously?”

When Malachi reached out to a large piece of pyrocite, Jin suddenly roused and reached out for the same piece. In front of Malachi, Jin swallowed the crystal in one gulp. This shocked Malachi as the piece was as big as his fist, but the Hell Worm swallowed it with no problems.

“Do Hell Worms eat anything that burns?” he said as he looked at Jin, “Huh, considering that you are named after the hottest place known to man…”

Malachi looked around the cave and found a few crates of meat. It seemed to be for Shyama, and the meat inside were preserved by large pieces of glacite placed in protective containers along the crates’ walls.

“I’m guessing these are from the other Eskurs?” he asked the two monsters, “Is it really fine for them, though?”

“Grr,” responded Shyama.

The Manticore directed her head towards the entrance. When Malachi also turned to look, there was a pair of Eskur soldiers bringing in crates of food.

“Oh, Young Master,” greeted one of them, “Are you here to check up on your beasts? We have been taking care of them while you were gone.”

The Eskurs dropped the crates to greet Malachi, but the young man just gestured it was fine.

“I was just checking to see if Jin was fine,” explained Malachi, “I hadn’t really planned to tame another monster, but it just happened, and I don’t really know much about a Hell Worm’s needs.”

One of the Eskur soldiers smiled.

“Well, we also had a hard time, Young Master,” said the soldier, “You see, of all our kin, you are the first to tame a wild Hell Worm. It wouldn’t be surprising that none of us would know how to take care of one.”

Malachi looked down on Jin’s golden eyes. It would seem that this particular Hell Worm would always go into torpor when it did not need to do anything.

“It took us a few trials and errors,” continued another Eskur, “but we were able to find out that they eat anything that could burn. With that in mind, the easiest food we could give it were pyrocite crystals, which shouldn’t be a problem since the kingdom is abundant with them in the first place.”

When the Eskur soldiers finished delivering the food to the two monsters and had left, Malachi stayed behind for a while before leaving as well. By the time he judged that no one would be able to see him, he bid farewell to the two monsters. He repeated his chant to hide himself once he stepped out of the cave. Fortunately, the crowds had thinned, easing the burden on his concentration a bit as he went to his class.

Malachi entered the academy’s empty lobby. The only people present were guards that were patrolling the halls, and the cadets and faculty were busy in their own classrooms. Despite the lack of people, he was still vigilant. If it was possible for him to be outside, it was possible for other people to be out and about, as well. Maintaining his chant whenever he came across a person, he eventually arrived at Class 13’s room with two people waiting outside.

One was Arlianne, who was obviously waiting for him, and the other was Carlos, who was asking Arlianne a question.

“Malachi should be here by now,” commented Carlos, “Where is he? I need to ask something from him.”

“It is a wonder, sir,” agreed Arlianne, “But, knowing Malachi, he may have important business to attend to. He was, after all, detained for a day. He might have needed to check on things left unattended. Speaking of…”

Arlianne turned her gaze away from Carlos. To the teacher, she was looking at nothing. However, to what she was looking at—Arlianne was looking directly at Malachi. Malachi nearly forgot to breathe when he realized Arlianne’s sharpness.

‘Goddamn, she’s sharp,’ thought Malachi, ‘Is it because of Uncle Greg’s training, or is she just sharp when it comes to me…?’

Since she could already see him, he gestured with a finger on his lips, indicating silence. Arlianne returned her attention to Carlos.

“It would seem that Malachi will be arriving soon,” she said, “Please wait for a while longer.”

Carlos raised a brow.

“Hm? What did you mean by that?” he asked, “And why were… you…”

Before he could finish his question, Carlos looked at the supposed empty place Arlianne looked at. To his shock, he found Malachi already standing there. Malachi ended his chant and walked leisurely towards his classroom.

“Did you need something, ‘teach?” inquired Malachi.

Carlos was blinking repeatedly at Malachi, trying to make sure that he was really standing there.

“Uh, how… where…?” muttered Carlos. He took off his glasses and massaged the place between his brows. “I must be getting tired.”

Carlos replaced his glasses and faced Malachi.

“I know you will give your class a two-day break for a successful mission,” he began, “would it be possible to persuade a few of your classmates to remain for studies? I know the Headmaster gave you freedom to decide a lot of things, but this cannot do for an educator like me.”

Malachi cocked his head.

“Aren’t you a soldier, ‘teach?” he asked.

Carlos sighed.

“I may be a soldier, but I am still a teacher,” he argued, “You should at least expect this from the academy, Malachi. Now, will you allow me to do my job, or will you have your class waste away precious knowledge?”

“What will you be teaching, anyway?”

“Humanities and literature.”

“Specifically?”

Carlos handed Malachi the curriculum in his hands. Malachi flipped the pages and made understanding and interested gestures. After flipping through it all, Malachi did not return the curriculum. He, however,

“About this, ‘Teach,”

Malachi pointed out numerous flaws and fallacies in Carlos’ curriculum. He spent ten minutes talking to him about prose and writing, cultural differences and similarities between civilizations and eras, the techniques in delivery and feedback, and many other related subjects. Carlos had already dropped the rest of what he held until Arlianne had to stop Malachi from talking by pinching his cheek.

“Malachi, Sir Carlos has frozen,” she said, “It would be best to stop talking.”

“Ah, sorry,” apologized Malachi, “I guess I won’t be joining the class for study time. Haha!”

Carlos grabbed Malachi’s arm.

“Why do you know all of that?” he interrogated, “That was everything I know and more.”

Malachi shook off his hand.

“Why should I not know?” he argued, “Isn’t it great that a student like me knows the same things as you do? Isn’t that why you became a teacher, to pass on knowledge to the next generation? Hahaha!”

Carlos’ arms hanged limply as Malachi entered with Arlianne. Malachi was laughing as he entered the room and greeted his class. When he entered, the class was already noisy and crowds had formed around a couple of people. One crowd was centered on Samantha, and another was centered on Tyler. Malachi could guess why since Arlianne would always give him a rundown of what happened.

“All right, all right, settle down, kiddos,” said Malachi, “As you all know, the mission was a success—hold on, I haven’t said anything yet! I know you’re all excited for that break, and I do try to keep my promises, but I was approached by a teacher for a request.”

The class was silent as they waited for his announcement. A number were visibly impatient as their legs had been going up and down, and a few were already tapping on their tables. Malachi glanced at the door, and Carlos was still there picking up the books and papers that had fallen to the floor.

“Those who wish to get on with their break, get the hell out of the classroom. I’ll see you all the day after tomorrow. BUT! Those who wish to use their time to learn from someone aside from me, feel free to stay.”

The cadets of Class 13 looked at one another. Of course, most already stood up to leave, but a few glanced at the door and saw Carlos waiting outside. Those who left did not give Carlos a glance and continued on their way, but those who stayed brought out their writing materials.

The ones remaining were the Eskurs, Samantha, and—surprisingly—Patrick.

“Are you sure, Mr. Bryant?” inquired Malachi, “The only Perlasians here are Samantha and ‘Teach, and the Rabbits outnumber you five to three.”

Patrick glanced at the five Eskurs around him.

“I have no reason to tell you,” he answered, “Go on, shoo! Let the teacher take over, already.”

“Fine, I expect higher marks in that case!”

Malachi left Class 13 with Arlianne. He asked her if it was fine for her to just accompanying him to the captured Hell Worm and not learn about literature.

“You do need an assistant, at least?” she asked back, “Even with the guards posted by His Highness, I doubt they would assist you with whatever you might need from them.”

“Well, okay,” assented Malachi, “But, do you mind if I hide as we go there?”

“Alexa?”

“Er, yeah…”

“I don’t mind.”

Malachi smiled from hearing her answer. He began to tap his fingers and slow his breathing. Malachi repeated the actions he had done before, hiding from the awareness of others. From the awareness of others who were too dull to detect him, of course.

Along the way, they passed by a class heading out.

“Hey, has anyone seen Lady Alexa?” asked a cadet, “She hasn’t shown herself since yesterday.”

“I didn’t see her leave her room, though?” added a cadette, “She might still be in the dormitories.”

“But why would she lock herself up in there?” wondered another, “Did something happen?”

Malachi and Arlianne looked at one another.

‘Ahh, was it really that bad…?’ he thought as he clenched his fists, ‘If we met in under different circumstances, I might have accepted her confession. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid…’

Malachi tugged on Arlianne’s sleeve to have her continue walking.

They eventually arrived at one section of the field where the Hell Worm was bound. Eight watchtowers encircled the Hell Worm, and the perimeter was patrolled by multiple pairs of armed soldiers. These soldiers no longer carried fusils or repeaters, but were now equipped by Malachi’s creations. While Malachi was training his own class, Eleazar seemed to have taken the initiative to have those subordinated to him learn from the engineers.

Malachi had already stopped chanting and pretty much surprised the soldiers in the area.

“Malachi?! Where did you…?!”

“You had holes in your patrol,” he lied, “It was easy to slip in, undetected. Peace has seriously dulled your senses.”

His comment was like an axe through their egos. They were, after all, soldiers working for the former king, but Malachi ignored that fact and approached the Hell Worm.

On the place where they cracked open the Hell Worm’s carapace was a team that regularly administered the drug, forcing it into a state of torpor.

“How is it?” he inquired.

“No abnormalities since yesterday,” reported a soldier, “Is it really alive? It looks dead to me.”

“Insects don’t have a concept of sleep neither do they have lungs,” explained Malachi, “Later, I plan to open it up to see its insides. Aside from the Fire Ants, this is one other insect that has an enclosed circulatory system. I want to know more about it. Oh, speaking of Fire Ants, I also plan to capture one to study it.”

“Uh… huh…” muttered the soldier, “By the way, that drug, did you make that?”

Malachi looked at the massive needles being injected into the Hell Worm.

“Nope. Ask Clan Skrima,” denied Malachi, “I got it from a doctor of that clan. I have no idea how to make it, but I know how it feels to get hit by it. For a grown man to get knocked out, I just need a teeny-weeny bit of the drug. For what we use for the Hell Worm, might as well dig a grave. Did someone accidentally inject it into themselves?”

The soldiers shook their heads.

“Good. I won’t be responsible if any of you die,” he warned, “Now then, I need to borrow a shotgun. I’m going to pull off a few pieces of the carapace to measure it.”

The nearest soldier with the shotgun handed over his gun along with a number of shells. Malachi loaded the shotgun with astonishing dexterity, leaving the other soldiers dumbfounded. He pulled the charging handle as he approached the underside of the Hell Worm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Malachi shot four places at point-blank range. The carapace visibly cracked from the kinetic energy released by the shotgun. He inspected the cracks, and then hit them with the butt of the shotgun repeatedly—smashing holes in them.

“Arlianne, help me pull out this piece,” he said, “You pull from there and I’ll pull from here.”

Malachi and Arlianne placed each of their hands on the punctured areas. With a heave, they barely pulled off the square piece of insect shell.

“Damn, this thing is hard,” he commented, “Can someone get a pair of steam knights here? Oh, and get me something to write with.”

A soldier saluted and ran off to the armory. While they waited for the soldier to return with the steam knights, Malachi inspected the other parts of the Hell Worm and wrote in a notebook he asked for.

‘Enclosed circulatory system… armor-like carapace… can resist the kinetic force of buckshot and a slug to certain degrees…’

Ten minutes later, the thundering march of steel giants could be heard. When the steam knights arrived, he had them pull off the piece of carapace he wanted to get. It was easy getting it off using the machines compared to manually tearing it off.

When they got the carapace piece off, the flesh did not go with it. It was as if it was just a container and not a part of the main body. The piece was also thick, measuring at approximately 20 millimeters, but was abnormally light.

Malachi had an evil grin when he held the carapace piece.

“How were Hell Worms when subjected to blast hammers?” he inquired one of the steam knights, “Did it break open, or did you need another hit?”

“A blast hammer, sir?” the engineer thought for a while, “If we get lucky, just two hits, but since it moves a lot faster than us, we don’t dare to do so.”

Malachi looked at the bound Hell Worm.

“All right, let’s strip this thing bare!” he announced, “I need to keep the shell intact to study it further, so help me out here!”

“Are we going to kill it?” asked a soldier.

“No, not yet,” clarified Malachi, “Since the shell just comes off cleanly, we can just crack a few parts then let them fall off.”

Malachi and Arlianne went to work, carefully stripping the Hell Worm of its carapace. Since it was taking too long with just two people, the other soldiers helped out. With Malachi’s directions and the steam knights’ assistance, the Hell Worm was fully naked—except for the eyes—in a couple of hours. Beneath the pitch-black shell was bright-red unknown flesh.

The disturbing interior made some of those with weaker stomachs vomit on sight. As for Malachi, he took a step back to sketch the naked Hell Worm. It was not a quick sketch, but a detailed one. Each part of the Hell Worm was meticulously observed and drawn on paper.

“It’s really soft,” he commented, “I wonder…”

Malachi approached a soldier and asked for a blade. The soldier handed him a guard saber. Malachi took it and made a few practice swings, and then he went back to the Hell Worm. Giving the notebook to Arlianne, he climbed up the Hell Worm’s back and went to its head.

He pierced the back of the Hell Worm, causing a fountain of gore to spew forth and covering him in what seems to be its blood—only it was green and disgusting. A few more vomiting noises were heard around him, and even Arlianne had to retreat a bit. Malachi did not mind, however, as he continued to slice open the back of the Hell Worm up to its tail-end and be bathed in it.

With such an action, it would be no wonder if the Hell Worm truly died. At the very least, it died in torpor, rather than in pain and suffering.

Once the Hell Worm was bisected, Malachi had the hesitating steam knights separate the two halves.

‘There are no organs?’ he observed, ‘The hell is this, a flesh giant?’

Indeed, the Hell Worm was just one massive piece of flesh beneath the shell. The only organ-like object he could find was a small pocket that he found within the neck. In it, he found pieces of molten pyrocite that still produced a good amount of heat. No matter how many parts he dissected, no organs would appear.

Malachi kept the pieces of pyrocite and went to a nearby fountain to wash off the gore. Fortunately, a bit of water was enough to get rid of it. Once he dried himself, he wrote in the notebook his findings about the Hell Worm. When he finished, he took one more look at the Hell Worm with the saber in hand.

‘Only one more thing to find out…’

Malachi chose the fleshiest part of the Hell Worm and sliced off a piece. In front of many people, he did the unthinkable that caused everybody—both with weak and strong stomachs—to vomit immediately. It was so shocking that Arlianne had to avert her gaze, and that some of the soldiers had to run away.

Malachi ate a piece of the Hell Worm.

“Chewy,” he commented, “A bit sour, though… Maybe, if I cook it…?”

“Ma-Malachi… Uh…” Arlianne did not know what to say or how to react.

Malachi was still chewing on the piece of flesh when he looked at her.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you all,” he apologized nonchalantly, “I needed to know if it would be plausible to feed on it during emergencies.”

He pulled out the pyrocites he got from the Hell Worm, struck two pieces together, and then placed the meat on top of it. He stayed still for 15 minutes. Soon, the smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air. Since Malachi did not put spices or prepare it, the smell was terrible. He burned the meat well enough to not char it before taking another bite. By this time, a few medics had already been requested to take care of the soldiers who could not stomach it any longer.

“The sight of him eating… that… it will be engraved forever in my memory… urp…” groaned a soldier.

Malachi ignored the rest and busied himself with eating the Hell Worm.

“Mm, crispy,” he commented, “Should taste good if I marinate it.”