Chapter 3: The Truth About the Rooster
But then Lucas’s expression suddenly changed. He started patting himself down, searching for something. My curiosity spiked.
His hands moved frantically, checking every pocket and seam. His eyes grew wide, panic flickering across his face. Uh-oh.
"What are you looking for?"
"Did you see my bonded beast?"
"Bonded beast? Haven’t seen it. What does it look like?"
"My bonded beast is a giant centipede. I remember it was still with me when I passed out, but now it’s gone."
At his words, my smile froze. Oh no. I glanced at the proud rooster strutting on the counter.
The bird was preening its feathers, looking smug and innocent. Guilty as charged, I thought.
"What thousand-legged worm? You were alone when you got here—maybe you remembered wrong?" I said, trying to keep my voice casual, but I could feel sweat prickling at my hairline. Please don’t put two and two together.
Lucas scratched his head and sighed. "Maybe so. I’m not strong enough. Tried to force my way into the hunting grounds and lost my companion in the process. Maybe that’s just my luck."
He slumped onto the cot, looking defeated. I let out a little sigh of relief, mixed with guilt. At least he wasn’t blaming me—or my feathered assassin.
"Hey, you’re too young to be talking about fate and all that. It’s just a centipede, right? If you don’t mind, I’ll give you this big rooster. You can take it home and, uh, keep it as a guard bird or something."
I pointed at the culprit, trying to sound casual.
I didn’t really want to, but I couldn’t stand people sighing and moaning in front of me. Might as well try to cheer him up.
I forced a smile, hoping he’d take the offer and stop looking so miserable. The rooster cocked its head, eyeing me with suspicion. Sorry, buddy.
Lucas turned to look at the rooster on the counter, and his eyes lit up. Wow, I thought, he’s really into birds.
He stared at the bird like he’d just found a winning lottery ticket. I’d never seen anyone so excited about poultry before.
"Where did you get this rooster? This is a legendary beast!" he whispered, like he was seeing the Mona Lisa.
His voice was hushed, almost reverent. I glanced at the rooster, wondering if I’d missed some hidden superpower in its breed description. This world, man.
"Bought it from a breeder for a little over a thousand bucks. More than enough to make up for a centipede…"
I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. In reality, that bird had cost me more than my first car.
"What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing. If you like it, just take it. I can’t sell it here anytime soon, and with no water or electricity in the shop, keeping it with me is just making it suffer. Better to find it a good home."
I waved my hand, hoping he’d accept. The rooster fluffed its feathers, as if sensing it was about to be rehomed. Sorry again, buddy.













