Manda raised the stone, his intention plain as day.
He would smash Quinta's skull in, then devour his flesh. It was something he'd done every single day in the Jurassic.
As Manda lifted the stone, Quinta made no move to resist. The boy before him had long since defied all his notions of humanity.
But when the stone began to fall, he had to speak—otherwise, he would lose the chance to ever speak again.
"Wait! I'm human!"
"Human… it's not right for humans to eat each other." Manda hesitated, the bottom line from his life before last still lingering.
Yet a few seconds later, he raised the stone once more.
"But I'm starving."
Besides himself, there had been no other humans in the Jurassic. He'd eaten every animal he could catch, and the instinct of his past life had triumphed over the morals of the one before that.
"I beg you, spare me! I will pray for you, pray to the great Typhon, and beg the Count for mercy! The Count will take you in, he'll let you live at the very least! Don't—don't do this! Wait, there's food here!"
"Food? Where?"
Manda set the stone down. If there was another option, he could spare the little creature for now.
"There are fish here." Quinta pointed at the pond. "Lots of them."
Manda stared at the water's surface for a moment. Beneath the ripples, there really did seem to be fish swimming, and they were no small size.
"I'm not lying. See? Tons of fish here."
Manda shook his head. "But fish are impossible to catch." It was a lesson from his past life—catching fish from the water without tools was harder than hunting a Compsognathus.
"I can catch fish! Free me, and I'll catch them for you. I swear by Typhon, if I break this oath, I will accept any punishment." Quinta looked at Manda with utter sincerity.
Manda actually lifted his foot and let him go. It was not because he was moved by the creature's honesty, but because he was certain he could catch him again if he tried.
Quinta kept his word. He did not run, nor did he attack. He held his oaths in the highest regard.
He squatted down, spread his arms wide, and stared at the water like a statue of clay.
After several minutes of perfect stillness, he suddenly plunged his hand into the water. His fingers curled like hooks, snatching a fish tight in his grasp, then he spun around and slammed it down onto the bluestone beside the pond.
He slammed it down three times in quick succession, stunning the fish, which lay motionless on the stone. The silvery fish was about twenty centimeters long, weighing at least half a kilogram.
Quinta grinned. "These are silver barracudas that swim down from the mountains. Stupid things, easy to catch—just terrible tasting."
Quinta bent down again, muttering under his breath. "This one's different, though. A black fish, native to this pond. Cunning little thing, slips away at the slightest mistake.
Unlucky for him, though—he met me today. Even if he had wings, he couldn't fly out of my grasp!"
Quinta struck suddenly, seizing a black fish and slamming it unconscious on the bluestone. He bent down once more, all weariness forgotten—catching fish was a joy to him.
"This kind's hard to catch, but I love the taste. The flesh is tender, crisp, and there's one more thing…"
"A little sweet."
"That's right! So sweet—how did you know…" Quinta froze. He heard an eerie sound of slurping.
He turned his head, and saw Manda gnawing on one of the black fish.
The fish was still alive, its tail thrashing wildly, flinging blood everywhere.
"You eat them raw?" Quinta's eyes blinked rapidly. He suspected he was looking at some kind of beast that merely resembled a human.
"Do you eat them cooked?" Manda stared at Quinta in surprise.
"Of course I eat them cooked! Oh god, look upon this! Who created such a savage creature!"
It was unbelievable. He was being judged by Quinta—this monster knew how to use fire. He pulled two stones from his person and whispered a prayer to the gods.
''Great Seer, great Awakened One, great Creator, great Guardian—bestow upon me your strength, your wisdom, your most precious gift."
Quinta struck the stones together twice, and with practiced ease, lit a clump of dry grass, as miraculously as a lighter from a far-off age.
Not only could he use fire—he knew how to cook. It was only simple smoking and roasting, but he controlled the heat to perfection.
Starting a fire was a highly skilled art. Manda had tried it countless times in his past life and never succeeded, leaving him to eat nothing but raw meat through all his days in the Jurassic.
After eating three roasted fish and one raw one, Manda let out a loud burp and lay back contentedly beside the pond.
Quinta squatted down beside him, stared at him for a moment, and asked a question he'd been holding back for a long time. "Are you really human?"
"Of course I'm human. Don't I look human?" Manda stared at Quinta with contempt. How could a monster like him dare to question him?
"You do! Very much so!" Quinta nodded, then shook his head again. "But there's a scent about you. It's a little like that of an Old God's follower, but not quite the same."
"What's an Old God's follower?"
"Followers of the Old Gods are the chosen of the divine—true divine beings, I mean. I'll take you to the Count. If you do not deceive him, I am certain he will not harm you."
"The Count?" Manda froze. "Is that Typhon, the one you spoke of?"
"Blasphemy! A great blasphemy! Do not speak the name of the divine with such contempt, nor confuse the divine with their followers." Quinta spoke with the utmost gravity.
"The Count is like us— a follower of Typhon, the beloved firstborn son of the great Typhon. Believe me, if you beg him with a sincere heart, he will take you in."
Manda's heart tightened. He thought he knew the creature's identity now. A heretic.
From the original owner's memories, there was only one true god in this age: the Lord of Divine Wrath. All others were false gods, and their followers were heretics—especially the ancient gods and their devotees.
Though Manda cared nothing for faith, he knew heretics were burned at the stake. That was the last thing his survival instinct would allow.
"To hell with your gods and your Count! I will beg no one for anything!" Manda sat up. "I'm full and watered. Time for me to go. Nice meeting you, Quinta."
Quinta sighed. "You cannot leave. Nowhere at all. No one has ever left the Valley of Malignant Mists alive."
Manda let out a cold laugh. "We'll just have to see about that."
"Try all you like. I have kept my promise, and my oath ends here." Quinta stepped back a few paces. "She's coming."
"Who's coming?" Manda stood at once, snatching up a stone and scanning his surroundings warily.
"The Sphinx is coming. She will ask you a riddle. You had better answer it correctly—then you might have a chance to live."
The Sphinx. The name sounded familiar, as if he'd read it in a book somewhere.
Manda was still thinking when a slender figure suddenly emerged from the mist.
In this age, women's clothing was loose and shapeless, with little difference between men's and women's attire.
So why was her figure so clearly defined? Could it be she was not wearing any…
It had been more than eighty years since he'd had any such experience, and Manda felt a flicker of anticipation for what he might see. But that did not mean he let his guard down. His left hand clenched the stone tight, and the cheat ability in his right hand was already activated.
The figure drew closer, and a soft, mature voice sounded in his ear. "New guest, what is your name?"
Manda curled his lip. "Why should I tell you?"
"What a pity. You've already answered the first question wrong."
As the words left her mouth, the woman suddenly darted forward and wrapped one hand around Manda's throat.
Manda tried to fight back with the stone, but to his shock, a pair of wings suddenly sprouted from the woman's back, and she lifted him into the air, carrying him aloft.
If she had grabbed his waist, or any other part of his body, Manda would not have suffered so terribly.
But she had his throat in her grip, and she flew with him up to a height of more than ten meters. The sensation was almost identical to being hanged.
"Young man, I will ask you another question. What can go out and come in, but must always come in when you eat?"
Go out, come in.
The riddle was simple. It was the tongue—you could stick it out, but you always had to pull it back in to eat.
Manda repeated the answer a thousand times in his mind, but he could not speak. His throat was still clamped in her hand.
"What a shame. You cannot answer." The woman circled the sky with him in her grasp, then spoke again. "I will give you one more chance. What grows constantly from the moment it is born?"
Manda was on the verge of fainting. He tried to use his cheat ability, but the woman kept changing direction as she flew. Disoriented and off-balance, Manda could not control his arms—let alone breathe.
The gap in their strength was too vast. Manda decided to surrender. He dropped the stone from his hand to show he would not fight back, then gestured weakly at his throat to indicate he could not speak.
"Poor child. You cannot make a sound. That is not fair to you."
The woman released her grip. Manda began to plummet in a free fall, but halfway down, she snatched the back of his tunic and lifted him up again.
"Answer my question, young man. This is your last chance."
What grows constantly from the moment it is born?
Suffocation and terror had robbed Manda of all ability to think.
"I have no choice. I gave you a chance, and you could not take it." The woman flew higher than ever before. She was about to hurl Manda down to his death when she heard him shout: "Hair!"
The woman beat her wings and froze mid-air. Manda was face down, unable to see her features, but he heard her crying.
"You got it right." She sobbed. "You really got it right. I am so ashamed. I lost. And those who lose do not deserve to live in this world!"
As the words fell, her wings stilled. She intended to kill herself—it was the Sphinx's rule.
Both of them began to fall in a free fall through the air. Manda's vision blacked out, and he yelled: "Crazy woman! Suicide is your business alone!"
Before he hit the ground, Manda fainted from fright. No one could stand such a terrifying game more than once.
The woman beat her wings and drifted slowly down to the earth. Quinta hurried forward. "Sphinx, you cannot kill him. He is special. Can you smell that scent on him?"
"Of course I can smell it!" The woman stared at Quinta with contempt. "A mere white duck—what right do you have to lecture me?"
"I only wish to warn you." Quinta blushed and hung his head. "We should leave him for Lord Count."
"As if I needed you to tell me that." The woman smiled and ruffled Quinta's hair. "Fool. Come with me to claim our reward. His scent is extraordinary—it will earn you a great deal of merit."