Monster's Genie

The bonfire crackled and popped as the flickering flames illuminated the gathering of mercenaries. About fifteen collectors, which was the total of three distinct groups of collectors, were celebrating their recent harvest. Laughter and boasts filled the air as they recounted their victorious raid on a lamia village hidden in the thick of the forest. 

The scent of roasting cockatrice meat mixed with the sharp tang of wine, adding to the festive atmosphere.

"Did you see the look on that lamia's face when I took her down?" one man bragged, slapping his thigh. "She thought her venom would save her! I'm glad we had all the antidotes ready."

"You see I made those antidotes with lamia glands! It's hilarious when you think that there venom is the thing that helpedus to fight against them," A woman added to his story, showing she was indeed the prestigious alchemist in this group of collectors.

Another man chimed in, holding up his wine flask. "I'll drink to that! We've proven that even those so-called 'monsters' can't stand against us."

Amid the revelry, one drunken man stumbled toward a large iron cage sitting near the edge of the camp. Inside the cage, a young lamia girl cowered, her snake-like tail coiled tightly around her body. Her mouth was bound with cloth, muffling her sobs.

The drunken mercenary lurched forward and yanked the girl out by her tail after breaking the lock of the cage. Her cries grew louder, but the cloth muffled them as she wriggled in his grasp.

"Look at this little freak, why do they have human looking body as their top. How disgusting!" he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Let's see how fireproof these scales really are!"

He dragged her toward the bonfire, but before he could get too close, a sharp voice cut through the chaos.

"Stop what you're doing!" A woman stepped forward, her expression icy. She wore leather armor adorned with various trinkets and a long scar down her cheek. "Put her down, now! Who do you think you are?"

The man hesitated, but the woman's glare was enough to make him drop the lamia girl. She switched on the floor trembling in pain.

"Who let this idiot drink?" the woman snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the leader of the drunken man's group. "If this freak's scales get damaged, her price will drop. And if that happens, your group will pay for it."

The leader gritted his teeth but said nothing, avoiding her gaze. He knew she was right, but talking against his own group was not something he was willing to do.

The woman knelt beside the lamia girl, her demeanor showing no remorse. "Back in the cage," she muttered, carefully dragging the girl back to the cage. 

She turned to the rest of the group, her voice firm. "Listen up! Every part of these monsters is valuable. Their hearts, their poison glands, their scales, even their hair. Damaging the merchandise is the same as burning gold. Do I make myself clear?"

The group muttered their agreement, chastened by her words.

She continued, "Ten of our comrades already left for the city with part of the haul because they were too eager to make money. We stayed behind to rest, but that doesn't mean we can act like fools. We're professionals. Start acting like it."

The group quieted down, returning to their food and drink. However, the man who had been scolded was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. How could this woman scold me? Who does she think she is? he thought, a devious plan beginning to form in his mind. A sly smile crossed his face as he looked at the woman who had scolded him, his lips curling into a lustful gaze.

The celebration continued, albeit with a more subdued tone. They feasted on cockatrice meat and drank wine, sharing stories of their past exploits. But as the night wore on, a faint sound reached their ears—the crunch of footsteps approaching through the forest.

The mood shifted instantly. Weapons were drawn, and the collectors formed a defensive circle around the bonfire. The dark forest loomed around them, the flickering firelight casting eerie shadows on the trees.

"Who's there?" one man called out, his sword gleaming in the firelight.

From the shadows emerged a figure—a man with dark hair, dressed in a black noble suit trimmed with gold intricate lines. He carried himself with an air of confidence, his strikingly handsome features almost ghostly in the firelight. In his arms, he cradled a small child, who seemed to be asleep.

The collectors tightened their grip on their weapons but didn't attack. The man's attire and demeanor made it clear he was no ordinary wanderer.

He was undoubtedly someone of noble birth, and the last thing anyone wanted was a noble family seeking revenge for the death of their son.

"Identify yourself," the scarred woman demanded, her voice steady. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

The man didn't respond immediately. Instead, his piercing gaze swept over the group, lingering on the woman who had spoken. He stepped closer to her, his movements graceful and deliberate.

"You," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Breastfeed the child. She is hungry!"

The woman blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

The man's gaze didn't waver. "The child is hungry. Feed him."

A stunned silence fell over the group. The woman's cheeks flushed, and she stammered, "I… I can't do that."

She was able to take a closer look at the man. He was indeed the most handsome man she had seen. They way his eyes looked at her, and his moist lips requesting something rather strange. She knew this was rather dangerous for her heart.

The man's expression darkened slightly. He turned to the other women in the group. "What about you?"

One by one, they shook their heads, their discomfort but curiosity evident.

The man clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Useless humans," he muttered under his breath.

A younger mercenary bristled at the insult. "Who the hell do you think you are? Suggesting something like that to my girlfriend? You—"

He came forward to argue with the guest and stood in front of him, pointing his fingers at him. But this didn't continue for long, as something unexpected happened.

Before he could finish, the man's free hand shot forward, piercing the young mercenary's chest. There was a sickening crunch as his hand emerged on the other side, clutching a still-beating heart.

The man's voice was calm, almost bored, as he dropped the lifeless body to the ground while throwing away the heart to the bonfire. "I am Jinnara O'Meega," he said, his tone laced with cold menace. "And I will uphold my promise to cleanse this land of human pestilence."

The remaining collectors recoiled in horror. Some raised their weapons, while others stumbled back, their faces pale with fear.

Jinnara's gaze swept over them, his crimson eyes glinting in the firelight. "All wishes shall be granted," he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "And your wish for wealth will cost you dearly because you refused my wish."

With a sudden burst of speed, he moved toward the nearest collector, his movements almost too fast to follow. The night erupted into chaos as the collectors' cries echoed through the forest.