God of Trash-Chapter 123. Easy as 1, 2, 3

Rhys instructed his underlings on how to craft chips, ketchup, and fries, and left them to get started on their industrial-scale endeavors. He set off, taking only Lira with him. When they were far enough from the hideout that no one could sense them anymore, he turned to her. “I’m going to free another camp’s worth of prisoners.”

“You already freed a camp of prisoners? And for that matter, there’s prison camps?” Lira asked.

Rhys frowned at her, then raised his brows. “Right. You were stuck in the sewer.”

“I was, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I didn’t have the worst of it,” Lira replied.

“No, you… you probably did have… well, you had it really bad,” Rhys said, not wanting to compare levels of suffering or trivialize any of the horrible things that had happened to the other mages in the mine.

Lira nodded, understanding. “It was bad everywhere, wasn’t it.”

Rhys took a deep breath. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why’d you take me?” she asked.

“You seemed like a competent fighter with a grudge, who’s good at melting away when she needs to hide. Also…” Rhys grimaced. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can use you as a fry salesman. You’re too distinctive. Even if I disguise your face, your aura is still too unique, and over a long time—”

Lira raised her hand, cutting him off. “I get it. I’m a water sprite.” freёnovelkiss.com

“I’m not trying to be rac… speciesist, but—”

She waved her hand. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to be a fry salesman in the first place. I’d rather fight.”

“Oh, good. Well, that’s that, then,” Rhys said, relieved.

“And you are right. As long as there’s a fresh water source nearby, I can easily escape any situation,” Lira said.

Rhys nodded. “Excellent. That’s exactly what I need.”

“So, where are we going?”

Rhys pointed. “When I was in the mines, we heard about another camp nearby. A farm that grew spiritual herbs. They’d send the worst-off of the miners there instead; only the people who were too far gone to benefit, even if they ate the herbs. It’s huge, and right next to a river for cheap irrigation. What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me.” Lira smiled, showing off her shark fangs. Her hands clenched, and long, almost needle-like fangs slid out from under her fingernails.

Rhys stared. “Creepy.”

“Men instinctively fear what hunts them,” Lira replied, sheathing her claws.

“That’s… deeply fair.” Rhys turned and ran, speeding between the trees. Lira followed after him, lowering her umbrella for a moment. A white blur chased a dark smudge, the both of them hurtling through the forest.

As they ran, Rhys glanced back. “How long can you be dry for?”

“Huh?”

“Your umbrella’s always up. I assumed you always have to stay wet, or something.”

Lira chuckled. “Oh, that. I can stay dry for days, if need be. I get uncomfortable without my umbrella, but it won’t kill me for quite some time. It’s like… if you stood still in a cold river for hours, you would be uncomfortable. Like that.”

Rhys opened his mouth in an ‘O’ as he understood. It would be somewhat insane for someone who died if she got dry to flaunt about in a might-makes-right world like this; it’d be too obvious to simply grab her umbrella and leave her out to dry, literally. For it to simply be a comfort thing, a kind of feint where anyone who went for it, simply wasted their first move, made far more sense.

“Of course, I prefer to be wet at all times, but it is rather like how you prefer to be dry,” Lira added.

“I get it.”

They ran on. Leaves crunched underfoot, and sunlight dappled over the ground around them. Once, Rhys sensed mages and diverted around them, not wanting to charge into them, but realizing how obvious it would be if he stopped dead instead. He touched the badge on his chest, then turned and tossed another badge to Lira. He still hadn’t determined if the merchants’ badges were in any way registered to their given merchant or not, but he had determined that there was no callback or trace function, so they were good enough to use for bluffing, at least. He’d investigated them with his mana, but the little twinkle of mana he got back didn’t tell him clearly whether they were identified to a merchant or not; still, given that he’d successfully bluffed the Empire once, he knew that one, they were good until closely examined, and two, that the Empire wasn’t overly excited to closely examine them, even in somewhat sketchy situations.

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Lira caught the pin and pinned it to her chest, understanding the assignment without further instruction. On they went, climbing up the mountain on the other side of the city. The other auras reached out and scanned theirs, and at that, the pins gave a tiny response. The auras retreated, and the soldiers they were attached to never appeared at all.

Rhys raised his brows. Interesting. So it didn’t have a callback function, but it did have some kind of long-range signal that the other mages could read and understand at a distance. It was convenient, since it meant they didn’t have to bluff their way through another encounter with the Empire, or, in fact, even show their faces. On the other hand, if there was a way to identify who was using the pins, or even track the pins on their won, the Empire would know these pins were in the region before the attack on the farm.

Rhys gestured Lira in. She closed the distance, quickly reaching his side. “We abandon the pins after this. They’re burned.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll put ‘em somewhere we can find them again, in face my guesses are wrong, but if I’m right, then we need to abandon them immediately afterward.”

Lira shrugged, but nodded. “If you think so, then I’ll do it. We don’t have many of these, though. We shouldn’t throw them away so easily.”

Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it. He frowned, pinching his chin as he ran. Throw away. Throw away. Hmmm. Something about that tickled his brain. He could feel a solution at hand, but he hadn’t quite reached it yet.

“Let’s worry about the farm first,” Rhys said, putting the thought to the back of his mind. He smiled at Lira and sped up, and she sped up to match him.

Past the city and up the mountain. The trees came to an abrupt end. Rhys stopped just within the trees, watching from within their shifting shadow. Lira drew up beside him, and as she drew to a halt, she unfurled her umbrella once more. Rain pattered down, its sound swallowed up by the breeze.

The air was thin up here. It didn’t matter much to them, but to the once-mages who tiled in the sun, it mattered. They paused now and again to suck deep breaths of air, or just to rest. Others, more acclimatized to the low oxygen, labored on, their eyes dull and heads low. Compared to the creamy-skinned mages they’d been, untouched by age and the sun, they were now wrinkled, dried up like raisins in the sun. Some bore visible wounds, not just from carelessly tending to the herbs, which flourished around them, spreading their frilly green leaves to the sky, but from human attacks, sharp cuts from blades and dull blows from whips or clubs.

Despite that, there were no guards. No fences. As far as Rhys could tell, the mages simply wandered around tending to the fields of their own volition, though he knew that couldn’t be true. He wanted to extend his aura, but killed it back at the last second. If he released it now, he’d reveal his presence, and the battle would start before he’d figured anything out at all.

His hand shook. Rhys clenched his teeth, physically fighting the urge to leap in, and damn the consequences. Here he stood, right here, with all the power in the world, and the ability to save these mages, and all he did was stand and watch. He felt more powerless than he’d ever felt before. It writhed under his skin, demanding release.

Not yet. Just a little longer. This was no scouting trip. If he couldn’t figure it out, he’d launch his attack anyways and simply bear what came, but maybe, if all it took was another few seconds, then—then he’d hold out. He scanned the fields slowly, looking among the mages for the white uniforms of the guards, the telltale tingle of mana, anything. Nothing. He sensed nothing but the mages, laboring away.

One of the mages stumbled, and instantly, a sharp cut appeared across her chest, not deep enough to kill, just enough to hurt. She numbly climbed back to her feet, too tired even to cry out.

Rhys lifted his head, searching the area. Where had that come from? There had to be guards. He’d always known it, but now it was confirmed. And yet, he still had the same question: where were they?

Before he could finish searching, his question was answered for him as a figure in gray swooped down on a sword. He crouched on his sword, hovering over the woman, and laughed. “Twice today? You’re in a lazy mood, aren’t you, taking so many breaks.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. It was transparently obvious that the woman wasn’t taking a break. She’d stumbled, and that was all. But this guard wanted to make it into a bigger problem, regardless of reality.

The mage woman shook her head numbly and walked on, reaching out to check on the next herb.

The guard smacked her hand out of the air. “What are you doing now? Trying to harvest it too early?”

She mumbled something, pointing on the plant. A beetle sat on the leaf, eyeing the plant’s nascent flower bud. She hadn’t been going to harvest the plant at all, but rid it of the pest.

“Sabotage? Three faults in a row. You know what that means. It’s time to go to the special punishment room,” the guard said, clicking his tongue.

The woman cringed, but didn’t run. She knew there was no escape. All around her, the other prisoners averted their eyes. There was nothing they could do. Nothing any of them could do.

Lira glanced at Rhys, whose hand had clenched so hard it threatened to cut into his flesh. “You know we should wait until night.”

“I know.”

“Are we going to?”

Rhys drew his broken sword. At that, Lira chuckled. “I didn’t think so.” She swished her umbrella around, folding it in, then drawing a thin, flexible blade from its center.

Rhys tossed his merchant’s badge away, and so did Lira, and like that, the two of them strode out into the field.

The guard turned. “Haa? Where’d you come from? Wait… you have mana signatures? You’re not—”

Rhys dashed in, closing the gap before he could finish the words. A single blue rat flew out, launching itself at the guard ahead of Rhys. The guard startled and batted it away, and Rhys reached him, separating his head from his neck with a single stroke. He reached up, hauling the man off his flying sword and simultaneously absorbing him, then mounted it for himself.

Lira hopped up behind him. “Don’t steal all the fun for yourself.”

Overhead, more guards shouted, startled by their appearance. They darted down, reaching for their swords and summoning their mana. Rhys rushed up to meet them, his eyes full of vengeance.

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