Chapter Forty-Five: The Birth of Another Battle Companion (Part Two)

“Oh, my little Lamb…” Upon seeing her pet's tragic death, Yan Zhen immediately cried out in distress, her eyes turning watery. When she looked again at Kiriel, the elven girl’s gaze held no affection; her emerald eyes blazed with a merciless fury, like the green flames that spurt forth when I sear copper plates during alchemy.

Bang! With a swift raise of her arm, the powerful firearm “Serra Glow” thundered, launching its projectile in a burst of fire that felled the mighty beast in an instant.

It was the first time I had witnessed the long-haired beast-tamer girl point her weapon at an animal. Faced with the choice between “cute” and “even cuter,” the elf wielding the gun chose the latter without hesitation, vowing to avenge her unfortunate pet. I had to admit, the luck of this clumsy lion was truly poor; among the five targets before it, any would have sufficed, but only this one should never have been touched. Having chosen the wrong prey, it lost its life.

“Hey, did I see that right? She actually attacked an animal! Oh my…” Xian Ge Yayi stared in astonishment, completely unable to adapt to the elf girl’s shocking display of violence, and whispered to me in disbelief.

“I saw the same as you!” Eagerly, I drew my sword, brandishing it with excitement as I rushed forward.

Throughout my journey alongside Yan Zhen, I had suffered greatly at the hands of wild creatures—whether it was a level thirty grizzly bear, a level twenty-seven wild wolf, or even the less-than-level-twenty white fox, all dared to bare their fangs and chase after me, seeking any chance to bite me hard. Yet I had no power to retaliate, forced to flee in frustration, letting these once feeble pursuers bully me, with my grievances left unvoiced.

But now, the long-haired elf maiden finally broke her own constraints, and all the humiliation and anger I had accumulated found a target for revenge. Scenes flashed before my mind—strangled nearly to death by a snake, doused in foul venom by a spider, knocked to the ground by a wild boar and left bruised and battered—each villain’s face replaced by the lion’s snout. The thought of finally venting my frustrations on a living wild beast made my heart soar as if it had grown wings.

“But… what should I do?” Xian Ge Yayi, thoroughly affected by Yan Zhen’s eccentric disposition, stood helplessly with his bow and arrows, unable to decide whether to shoot or not, stomping awkwardly.

“Idiot, what do you mean what should you do? Help us!” Fei Yin, without hesitation, unleashed two ice arrows and then turned, furious, to shout at Xian Ge Yayi. She added, “Don’t forget to skin it after it’s dead—I haven’t gotten any animal pelts in ages!”

I had to admit, the fate of the Roaring Hunter was grim. Facing four adventurers four or five levels higher than itself, it played the perfect role of punching bag and scapegoat, never getting the chance to strike back: stunned by a gunshot, wounded by a sword, its body soon bristled with sharp arrows and bizarre ice spikes, until it collapsed silently. Even after it lay motionless in death, Yan Zhen, still dissatisfied, lifted her elegant high-heeled boot and gave it a thorough stomping.

Watching the lion, flattened just for wanting a meal, I suddenly felt a sense of balance. Though I had been chased all over the place, I’d never truly faced mortal danger; compared to this unlucky lion, turned into our outlet for frustration, my own grievances seemed minor.

Death is not the absolute end for tamed beasts. After a period of life’s cooldown, their masters can revive them through soul summoning skills. Soon, with the elf beast-tamer’s call, Lamb stretched lazily on the ground, rolled over, and stood up again. It shook its plump body and fluffy coat, looked around blankly, seemingly unmoved by its death-and-rebirth, uninterested in those of us gathered around it, and simply lowered its head to munch on a clump of grass, chewing contentedly.

“My little Lamb…” In contrast to Lamb’s composed revival, its owner was both joyful and sad, looking quite distraught. Yan Zhen hugged her second pet tightly, showering it with kisses and caresses, tears glistening in her eyes as she still blamed herself for its earlier demise. Yet, her emotional display left this carefree creature unmoved; it lounged comfortably in the long-haired elf’s arms, squinting in delight, its pointed mouth still chewing grass with gusto.

“Hmph…” Watching Lamb and Bunny, both so endearing, Fei Yin’s eyes sparkled with affection yet her teeth gnashed in frustration as she scolded Yan Zhen, “You big fool, catching these two little idiots—how will they help you fight? Serves you right!”

Yan Zhen stroked the little sheep’s head, smiling lovingly. “I never intended for them to help me fight.”

“Then why do you want them?” Fei Yin stomped her feet in exasperation.

“Because I like them. Look how cute they are…” Yan Zhen tilted her head without a second thought, as if it were obvious. “Who says pets must fight? I chose them simply because I like them. What’s so good about fighting?”

“But…” Yan Zhen’s words left Fei Yin at a loss, unable to argue. “Your chosen profession—if you don’t have pets to help you, you’ll never win against others.”

“Why must I always win?” Yan Zhen retorted, taking out the beast-tamer’s magic bracelet and summoning a half-human-high portal. She gently placed Lamb inside—if needed, she could call it out with an incantation.

Afterward, the long-haired elf beast-tamer took Bunny from her friend and continued, “I play this game for fun. At home, I never see so many animals, and being with them here makes me happy. I don’t find fighting enjoyable; if I lose, so be it. Do you think killing others is fun? Who says we must kill people here?”

She spoke with a pure smile, her expression childlike and, perhaps, naively foolish. I believe she knew her words were impractical, meant as a jest, not to win our approval.

“I…” Yet Fei Yin was rendered speechless, unable to continue her argument.

Not only Fei Yin, but also me and Xian Ge Yayi. In the face of Yan Zhen’s naive honesty, all three of us fell silent.

We all knew that beast-tamers formed partnerships with their pets to support each other in battle because they were devout followers of the goddess of nature, possessing wild hearts as clear and warm as morning light. They could walk safely among beasts, win their trust and loyalty, because they revered nature and respected life, seeing themselves as equals among all living things, bonded to their pets in soul and fate.

But is that truly the case?

During my not-so-lengthy adventures, I had encountered a few successful beast-tamers and witnessed their battles. Sadly, I saw little of the wild heart in them anymore—animals were merely weapons, shields, armor, or mobile platforms for magic. Their only purpose for taming beasts was for combat: easier, safer, faster battles—to defeat enemies, protect themselves, and kill efficiently.

They mercilessly drove their pets into danger, while staying safe themselves, shooting at foes from afar. When their pets were wounded or dying, I saw no anxiety or sorrow. On the contrary, when things got dire, these children of the wild, stripped of reverence for life, would readily sacrifice their pets to buy time for their own escape.

They compelled their loyal companions, manipulated and abandoned them, doing so naturally, so even we onlookers saw nothing amiss, accepting it as normal and even using it as a standard for choosing suitable pets for Yan Zhen.

Looking back, I doubt those people truly loved a venomous wolf spider, a ferocious grizzly, or a tusked wild wolf. If these creatures did not offer substantial combat strength, they would not even glance at them, or would slaughter them to turn their lives into their own power.

I do not know when the wild heart was lost, when beast-tamers ceased to revere nature and became mere practitioners of a unique craft. Toward their pets, their intentions were entirely utilitarian—they thought only of how best to use them, or rather, exploit them.

Only the girl before me truly loved her pets, wanted to protect them, cherished them, and showed them care and affection rather than exploiting them.

This should have been normal, yet now it seemed abnormal to us.

Many things in the world are like this: when error becomes fashionable and widely accepted, what is truly right becomes harder to accept.

Perhaps, I thought, among the tens of thousands of followers of the goddess of nature, Netchneia, only the actions of this girl truly align with her intentions. She has truly befriended animals, lived close to nature, and made choices faithful to her soul and beliefs.

“I’m tired…” As I drifted into thought, Yan Zhen’s clear, melodious voice sounded in my ear again. “That’s enough for today. The last pet can wait until later.”

“Please, just catch one that’s actually useful.” Fei Yin, unable to convince Yan Zhen, could only plead.

“I’ll try…” Yan Zhen stuck out her tongue playfully.

“Wait…” Seeing Yan Zhen about to leave, Xian Ge Yayi quickly called to her. When she turned, the cheerful elf archer blushed and stammered, “When do you log in? When you do, could you send me a message? Let me join you to catch the last pet…”

Yan Zhen looked at Xian Ge Yayi in surprise, thought for a moment, then smiled gently and replied, “Sure.”

(The recent chapters have been rather poorly written, which has led to much criticism. I wonder if I should turn back and revise them, since if all readers dislike them, it must be my own fault. The dilemma is whether to pause updates and tidy things up now, or wait until the whole story is finished. It’s hard to choose.

I thought I was a carefree person, indifferent to others’ opinions. But when it happens to me, I find myself quite dejected. I need to reflect deeply.

I feel most sorry for my wife, who suffers criticism alongside me because of my inadequate writing—that is truly a heavy guilt…

Still, I want to express my gratitude. If not for readers’ heartfelt engagement, no one would raise such sharp questions. Since you’ve clearly voiced your opinions, it shows you have higher expectations for my writing, not just flipping through it casually. That is enough to be grateful for.

Fortunately, this volume has ended, and the next will return to the main quest. After such a long period of leisure, I too have begun to miss the days of battle.

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