Chapter 20: Animal Friend

Chapter 20: Animal Friend

"Please! Please! Give me an SSR! At least something on the level of Inquisitor Nashel's Supernatural Ability!"

"Supernatural Ability: Infrastructure Maniac (Grade B). You are a master of infrastructure, a grand planner. Cities rise from the ground beneath your hands, and material abundance follows your presence. Now that's what I call Industrial Cthulhu!"

"Supernatural Ability: Fishing Elite (Grade B). You're the angler of anglers. No chumming, no bait—even a tree branch gets you a full load. You can catch larger, higher-level fish and save 50% on bait. You'll never get skunked."

"Supernatural Ability: Animal Friend (Grade B). You grew up in the wild, at one with all animals. You can understand and speak their language, and you're quicker to make friends with them."

"..." Lyman went quiet.

After a long pause, he held up the Book of the Evil God and glared at the closed eye on its cover.

"Book of the Evil God, I take back all the nice things I just said.

"Open your big eyeball and get a load of this! Sure, I'm on an island, but it's a prison island—not some deserted island packed with cute critters, right?

"Infrastructure Maniac? Fishing Pro?? And then—Animal Friend??? Throw in Masterful Acting, and what do you think I am, a Disney princess? Did you wind up in the wrong world, or is it me?"

The Book of the Evil God stayed silent, just flickering with light, pushing Lyman to pick one.

Lyman got so annoyed he hurled it away. The Book of the Evil God vanished in midair, then popped back up at his side.

What is this, an "unthrowable book"?! Am I in some creepypasta?!

He rubbed his forehead, forcing himself to chill out. Don't argue with an idiot. A reward beats nothing, and it's not like he did any work—this was all freebies from Sylen's quest...

Lyman reread the descriptions of the three abilities.

Infrastructure Maniac, Fishing Elite, Animal Friend.

The first two wouldn't do much for his mission. Lyman couldn't picture how building stuff or fishing would get him out of here. Building stuff would only make the prison tougher to break out of. And fishing—he couldn't even step out of his cell, so how the heck would he fish?

But Animal Friend, though...

Lyman's eyes drifted to the corner of his cell, where a few rats were darting in and out of wall cracks, squeaking.

He was a prisoner, stuck in one spot, but Cape Prison was crawling with animals—rats and seabirds—that could be his eyes and ears, watching the whole place 24/7!

There were also trained hounds in the prison that could back him up in a fight.

And let's not forget the horses. If he made friends with them, could that land him a stable job? And if he ever had to bolt, he could ride one out.

So from that angle, "Animal Friend"—which looked the most useless at first—was actually the perfect pick for Cape Prison.

"Okay, Book of the Evil God, I'm going with Animal Friend!"

The words on the page melted into streams of light that poured into Lyman's forehead. A flood of know-how about "Animal Friend" came with them.

Once he activated it, he could understand animal talk and chat with them. Whether he could get them to do what he wanted depended on how smooth his talk was. "Animal Friend" boosted his rapport with animals, so talking to them went more smoothly.

Different animals also had different levels of smarts when it came to talking. Mammals and birds were smarter and could mostly chat like people, while bugs, fish, reptiles, and amphibians were dumber—basically brain-dead.

Lyman turned to check out the rats in the corner.

When he zeroed in, those sharp squeaks instantly turned into human words.

"Bread! Bread!" "Chick rat! Chick rat!" "Two-legs, what you lookin' at!"

Whoa, he could actually understand them. So this was what being a Disney princess was like?

Lyman scooted over to the other side of the cell. The rats were already used to him—they didn't even try to bolt. Maybe in their eyes, he was the real tenant of Cape Prison, and humans were just short-term squatters.

"Hey, little rats, can you do me a solid?" Lyman whispered, making sure the guys in the next cells couldn't hear.

The rats instantly shut up, staring up at him in shock, their little eyes bugging out.

"Squeak! The two-legs is talking our talk!"

"So freaky! So freaky!"

Lyman did his best to sound nice: "There's a payoff for you. I'll bring you bread, I—"

The rats bolted in a flash, disappearing into the wall cracks.

Lyman: "..."

Wasn't he supposed to be an animal magnet? Was it him, or had the Book of the Evil God oversold the ability?

Maybe rats just didn't vibe with humans. He'd try other animals tomorrow—the prison island had plenty of seabirds...

With that, Lyman lay down on the straw.

Just then, a rustle came from the wall crack. A silver-gray fuzzy head poked out of the gap, its tiny eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Lyman locked eyes with the little rat. "Uh, hey?"

"Squeak! It's true! The two-legs really can speak our language!"

The silver-gray mouse squeaked excitedly, then zipped back into the crack. A few seconds later, its little head peeked out again, nose twitching, whiskers quivering.

Only after making sure Lyman wasn't going to attack did it work up the nerve to come out.

"I can help you, two-legs," it said, standing up on its hind legs with its little paws crossed. "But I want pay!"

"You know what 'pay' means?"

"Duh! I'm the smartest rat here!" It puffed up and twitched its whiskers. "I want some tasty brown bread!"

Lyman nodded. "No sweat. I can bring you some every day."

"And I want you to have my back!" the little rat said. "Some big rats push us around just 'cause they're bigger. You gotta stick up for me!"

"That's no problem either." Lyman was, after all, a full-grown adult man—no way he'd lose to a pack of rats.

Only then was the little rat happy. It stuck out a furry little paw. "Deal!"

"Deal." Lyman gave its paw a gentle squeeze. "I'm Lyman. What's your name?"

"I don't have a name. Everyone just calls me Little One."

"Then I'll give you one." Lyman eyed the rat's silver-gray fur. "How about 'Dandelion'?"

The little rat cocked its head. "What's that mean?"

Lyman explained, "It's a flower. Its seeds are just as fluffy as you, and when the wind blows, they float off to faraway places."

"Wow! Dandelion must've been to places no rat's ever been and seen stuff no rat's ever seen! Okay, from today, I'm Dandelion!" The little rat was thrilled, its tail wagging back and forth. "Mr. Lehman, what can I do for you?"

"I want you to be my informant, to keep watch over the people in the prison. You understand what that means, right?"

The little mouse nodded: "I get it! Keep an eye on them and report their every move to you! But I'm just one mouse, I can only watch one person. Who do you want me to watch?"

"You know Captain Prew, right?"

The little mouse huffed angrily: "He's really bad! He's always killing animals, and everyone hates him!"

"He's the one I need you to keep an eye on. You need to tell me every word he says and everything he does..."

***

—Inside the main tower—

Enoch Pry kicked open the office door, the door slamming against the wall with a loud bang.

His face was ashen, veins bulging on his forehead like writhing worms.

"Those two goddamn Inquisitors!" he roared, yanking his ceremonial sash crooked.

His subordinate, Deputy Captain Slavin, trailed close behind. He quickly shut the door and lowered his voice: "Sir, keep it down—walls have ears."

"So what? This is my territory! Mine!"

Pry slammed his fist onto the desk, snapping a gilded quill in half. The desk let out a pained groan.

"They're just here to root out heresy, and they dare to challenge me? Who the hell do they think they are? Especially that Aether Orolan, that pretty-faced punk!"

At the memory of the Inquisitor's face, Pry's face contorted even more.

"What gives him the right to outrank me? Just a commoner—how the hell did he pass the Seminary exam? Hmph, he must have slept his way to the top! That's it, that's exactly it! He screwed Archbishop Mavo to get into the Seminary! A filthy whore dares to order me around?"

Deputy Captain Slavin quickly chimed in: "Exactly, exactly. He's just got some looks and bewitched the Chief Inquisitor to climb the ladder—nothing like you, who earned it through real talent!"

Captain Pry panted heavily: "Sure, sure, I've got real talent. It's just that my uncle's the Preacher General, so everyone claims I got here through him... Bullshit!"

He grabbed the bottle of "Midday Sun" red wine off the desk but couldn't find a glass anywhere. Just as he was about to blow his top, the deputy captain quickly handed him a glass and poured.

After a few glasses, Captain Pry's cheeks flushed red, like he'd been boiled.

He got up and walked to the window, gazing out at Cape Prison in the moonlight and the sea beyond. This was his turf, his kingdom—every soul here had to obey him! That worthless pretty boy had the nerve to embarrass him in front of everyone!

He'd only punched that Eric Mavo a few times—what was the big deal? That punk had it coming!

For some prisoner, some criminal's kin, they want to punish him—a son of a noble family?

He gripped his glass, knuckles going white. The memory of being shamed in public sent him into a rage again.

"I'll make them regret crossing me! I'll kill them!"

The deputy captain drew in a sharp breath: "Sir, calm down! This is too small a thing to kill over, right?"

Captain Pry chucked the glass at him: "Minor? You call this minor?"

"Yes, yes, it's major. But the Warden is being transferred in a year, and then you'll be the new Warden. If something goes wrong right now, of all times..." The deputy captain paused, hoping his superior would think it over.

"I can't stand it! I want them dead now! Cape Prison is in the middle of nowhere—who's gonna stop me here?"

The deputy captain sighed inwardly. He'd been Pry's right-hand man for years. Over the years, Pry had dealt with countless thorns in his side—anyone he didn't like ended up dead or maimed, yet he always got away with it.

It wasn't because his methods were slick or clever, but because his underlings cleaned up after him, and his uncle had his back.

But the ones before were either commoners who crossed him or low-ranking church guys competing with him—dead was dead, nobody gave a damn. But this time, it was two Senior Inquisitors.

"Sir, revenge doesn't have to be rushed. Once you're promoted and back in the Holy City, those two little Inquisitors will be a piece of cake."

"I'll get promoted, but won't they too?! No, I have to do it now, right here on my turf, and take them out!"

Captain Pry paced the office.

"I need a plan to make their deaths look like accidents."

Captain Pry's bloodshot eyes landed on the hunting trophies on the wall, and a nasty idea hit him.

"Right, I'll invite them to a hunt, say it's to make amends. With the Warden's persuasion, they won't refuse. Then I'll finish them off in the woods and say wild animals got them..."