Chapter 10 - 10. Warnings, Meows, and rotting Mice

Opeka's village hall, a sturdy stone chamber lit by flickering torches carved with Verdantrix's vines, thrummed with tension as Killyaen and Janko stood before Elder Mara. Her earth charms hummed, a faint ripple of soil coiling at her feet, her stern gaze pinning the troublemakers like moths. The tavern brawl—splintered tables, cracked beams, feathers strewn like a molting goose—had frayed her patience, and this dawn summons drew her line in the sand. Villagers peeked through open doors, whispering about the Supreme Elf's chaos, some stifling chuckles as they hummed "Plumed Cat!" from the festival.Killyaen, his curse-heavy steps denting the floorboards, stood with a lopsided grin, gold-flecked eyes glinting. Janko, the "Cursed Cat," shifted, his beard faintly sticky with Moonflower sap, claw marks from that cursed cat still red on his leg. Guards flanked the hall, spears glinting, their faces twitching as Killyaen winked at a young villager, earning a stifled giggle. Elder Mara, a Middle Beginner (Level 3) cultivator, her robes etched with earthen runes, leaned forward, voice sharp. "You've turned Opeka into a circus," she snapped. "Killyaen's ballads, glowing barns, wrecked tavern? Janko, your feather fiasco didn't help. Our Zenoite mine keeps us steady, not your feuds."She slammed a fist, a tremor rippling the floor with her earth qi. "Zenoite—light as steel, strong as stone—fuels our crafting. You threaten that stability. This time, a warning. Another ruckus, and you'll face fines, labor, or worse. Clear?" Janko, seizing his moment, puffed his chest, pointing at Killyaen. "Elder, it's his fault! That Elf's taunts—'Plumed Cat,' goose waddling—forced my hand! I was defending my honor!" His voice whined, hands flailing like a cornered beast.Killyaen tilted his head, whistling a jaunty tune, eyes wide with mock innocence. As Janko ranted, Killyaen slyly slipped a chicken feather into his pocket, smirking. He paused, cupping a hand to his ear. "Pardon, Elder, but is that a cat meowing in this hall? Sounds like a stray's tantrum!" The guards coughed, spear butts tapping as they bit their lips; one's shoulders shook. Villagers outside snorted, a muffled "Cursed Cat!" chant rising. Elder Mara's eyes blazed, face a mask of fury, but her lips twitched, betraying mirth. Killyaen's jab was too sharp, but laughter would crack her authority. She slammed her fist, soil coiling tighter. "Enough, Killyaen!" she barked, voice wavering. "Your tongue's sharper than your swords, but it won't save you."Janko sputtered, "See? He mocks me now!" but Mara silenced him with a hand. She fixed Killyaen with a glare. "To keep peace, one pays. Janko, dismissed—stay out of trouble. Killyaen, your provocations started this. The Zenoite mine, our lifeline, is infested with Rotting Blind Mice. Clear them out. Alone." Killyaen's grin faltered. The mice—fist-sized Aenerian pests with matted, decayed fur, blind glowing eyes, and a stench like rotting meat—swarmed at Peak Apprentice strength, tough for a qi-less elf below Initial Beginner. His curse-enhanced strength and dual-swords would help, but the numbers and reek promised misery."Rotting Blind Mice?" Killyaen muttered, scratching his head. "Sounds like Janko's cat stench." The crowd snickered, a guard choking on a laugh. Mara's eyes narrowed. "Mock me again, and you'll scrub the mine's floors. Get it done, or your next summons won't be kind." She waved them out, guards smirking as Killyaen sauntered past, whistling defiantly, his amulet pulsing faintly, unnoticed.Outside, Janko smirked, jabbing a finger. "Served you right, Elf. Enjoy your stinking mice." Killyaen turned, grinned wide, and purred, "Meow," plucking the feather from Janko's pocket and twirling it. Janko's face purpled, fists clenching, but Killyaen was already strolling away, the taunt lingering like a cat's hiss. The feud simmered, ripe for another spark.Killyaen kicked a pebble, the hall's shadow fading. His cultivation book—meridians, dantian, twenty levels with Initial, Middle, Peak sub-levels—felt heavier. Three Altars of Awakening had left his qi dormant, but Vuk's tale of "ancient ruins" in Solaria's wilds, holding a "glowing blue relic," glowed in his mind. "Clear a mine, find a ruin," he mused, grinning. The book detailed breakthroughs, but Killyaen wasn't even Beginner. The mice were a step toward proving himself, stench or not.At the tavern, Bera caught wind of the punishment, leaning on the bar, festival lanterns etched with Azurion's waves flickering. "Off to fight smelly mice, Supreme Mage?" she teased, flicking a rag. Killyaen winked, leaning close. "Warming up for my ruin quest, Broom Queen. Care to warm me up after?" She snorted, tossing the rag at his face. "Don't reek of rot when you're back, pervert!" Mirna, overhearing, muttered about "cursed Spirit Stones" spawning rodents, while Marko, sharpening Killyaen's swords, chuckled. "Bring me a mouse tail for luck, Supreme Elf." Killyaen, hefting his blades, felt the curse's weight but no fear.By noon, he reached the Zenoite mine, a jagged maw in Opeka's hills, its entrance framed by glowing Moonshadow fungi casting eerie light. Zenoite veins, etched with Azurion's swirling waves, glimmered in the rock, light as steel yet strong, fueling Opeka's forges. The air reeked of decay, the mice's stench wafting out. Killyaen gagged, muttering, "Janko's barn smells sweeter." His amulet pulsed, catching a faint carving in the rock—a faded ruin with a blue glow, whispering of Vuk's tale.A skittering echoed, and three Rotting Blind Mice—matted fur, glowing eyes, reeking like death—lunged from the shadows. Killyaen drew his dual-swords, curse-enhanced agility kicking in. Wind's Rebuke spun him aside, dodging a bite, his blades whistling. Thunder's Edge slashed upward, cleaving one mouse, its stench exploding. Another nipped his arm, teeth grazing, but the curse's regenerative pulse closed the scratch fast. He kicked the third, its squeal echoing, curse-heavy boot denting the ground. A tiny Glintmite—a qi-sensitive beetle with Zenoite-like scales, drawn to the mice's qi traces—scuttled past, its shell glinting, dodging Killyaen's swing."Stinking pests!" Killyaen growled, wiping sweat. "Janko'd faint at this smell." The mice were tough, Peak Apprentice, but his training held. The mine's depths loomed, swarming with more, a slog awaiting. Yet the carving's glow lingered in his mind, a spark of ancient ruins fueling his grin. He sheathed his swords, the Glintmite vanishing into a crack. The Supreme Elf, sore, reeking, and defiant, was ready to carve another legend.