Chapter 115
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: The Bird that Steals Women's Hearts
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“Hic...”
The goshawk sat there with her wings folded tight, letting out pitiful little whines.
Objectively speaking, she looked pretty darn cute.
Goshawks are cute birds by nature, after all.
She bit down hard on my feathers, trying to hide her tears.
...Take back what I said about her being cute.
Pretending to nibble my feathers, she'd actually chomped into my flesh too.
And since she's a raptor, there was even a bit of blood.
I wondered if this was how it felt when my beak struck someone. A real moment of self-reflection.
But seriously, I'd just greeted her politely—why was she crying like that?
“Um, little wind. As I keep saying, it might be better if you use that beak of yours a bit less.”
“Caw?”
“I don't mind, personally, but to other ears, it's not exactly pleasant. Like the wail of some demon clawing its way up from hell.”
“Caw caw.”
What a joker.
Slandering my nightingale-sweet voice like that.
“Kweeeh...”
“S-Sorry! I'll be good, I promise...”
...
Truth be told, I knew my voice wasn't all that great.
To be precise, it wasn't the voice itself—it was that I still couldn't speak properly.
If the voice quality was truly awful, even my caws and chirps would sound hideous.
“Shwoong...”
Swungswung seemed to wrap himself around the goshawk's body, comforting her like a big hug.
Once she finally calmed down, she perked up and scurried about as if nothing had happened.
Probably embarrassed about showing that vulnerable side.
“Ahem! How was I supposed to know birds could make sounds like that? I got startled by the scary noise, that's all.”
Forget I ever saw that side of her.
Was I imagining that it sounded deliberate?
“I'll tell you about the cockatrice. ...Crow, don't respond—just listen!”
She panicked, terrified I'd make that sound again.
“Caw caw.”
“Yeah, that's better.”
She let out a sigh of relief.
Apparently caws were fine.
A mischievous urge bubbled up—maybe I should try the crow gag sound next.
“The cockatrice uses petrification and poison. You already knew that, right?”
...
She'd probably start tearing up again and peck at my back furiously.
“Caw.”
I gave a light nod.
“Lizards are immune to petrification, so they can take it down pretty easily. But we don't have that luxury.”
The goshawk shrugged her wings.
Petrification and poison were seriously dangerous, no doubt.
Had I even run into a poison user since coming here?
At worst, just the fishing snake's pheromones.
But this? Lethal poison wasn't enough—they had to throw in stone-turning petrification too.
It hit me again just how risky facing a cockatrice would be.
“So we'll have to tank it with our bodies.”
She stared right at me.
“N-Not in that way—don't get the wrong idea!”
What way, exactly?
The goshawk flapped her wings frantically, like she was picturing something weird.
“Ahem! The cockatrice does have dangerous powers, but they're not infinite.”
She had a point.
Even venomous snakes don't walk around loaded with poison all the time.
One bite can use up most of what they've got.
Producing poison takes massive resources.
Miss your hunt, and survival goes straight to hell.
That's why venomous creatures hold back unless it's a sure thing—or they're about to die.
To preserve their ultimate weapon.
“Catching one means wearing down its power with speed... or straight-up tanking. Tanking's basically impossible, though, so dodging's the way to go.”
Our plan: drain the cockatrice's power first.
Once the poison and petrification are spent, melee should handle it fine.
I could even intercept from range with Twilight Feather.
Of course, exhausting it would be brutally tough—but not impossible.
A hundred times easier than charging straight in.
“Plus, it's got chicken instincts. Daytime, it's all active. Nights like this? Slow as molasses.”
Like how roosters crow at dawn.
The cockatrice kicks into gear after its big crow.
Meaning before morning, its physical abilities tank hard.
Best would be a night ambush for instant kill, but with the snake head and bird head trading off sleep... yeah, tricky.
When its stats are down, force it to burn the rest of its power. That's the play.
“Alright, follow my lead. Your night vision isn't great, right?”
Birds have poor night sight.
But our crew? Different story.
Swungswung's a ghost flat-out, and Moona's nocturnal despite appearances.
I've beaten the weakness with Crow's Eye.
The goshawk didn't know that yet.
Hence the lesson in body language.
“Like this! Don't rely on eyes—feel it with your senses... Ha!”
To-do-do-dot!
She bolted off at impressive speed.
Hard to believe for a bird with bad night vision.
Thud-thud-da!
“To dodge attacks, use your wings like this!”
She dashed fast, then flapped up for takeoff.
“Ow!”
She plummeted right back down moments later.
Tangled her leg on a tree root while running solo.
“Owwie...”
Her leg looked banged up.
I stared, and she tried hiding it awkwardly.
“It's nothing! My bad. Lemme show you again!”
Peck.
I nipped her wing to pin it.
“Wh-What? Why?”
“Shwung.”
I nodded at Swungswung, who spat out a cloth scrap and herbs from his pouch.
“Sudden much? Wait... you giving me food...?”
The goshawk freaked.
Come to think of it, birds do pass food mouth-to-mouth.
But this wasn't food.
“I'll handle the wound.”
Moona shredded the cloth to size.
With a crunch, Swungswung's spit-out rag turned bandage-ready.
The goshawk just gawked, beak agape.
She wouldn't move now—she got what was coming.
Munch munch.
I chewed the herbs to a pulp.
Had to get the juices direct for effect.
“Gak...”
I made every sour face in the book.
Chewing for juice meant tasting the full bitterness.
“Caw.”
“...You're treating me?”
I nodded, and she meekly stuck out her hurt foot.
Slapped on the juicy herb mash, wrapped and secured the bandage.
“No need... it'd heal on its own. Why bother...”
She mumbled, embarrassed.
Words said one thing, but her tail feathers swayed happily.
Grateful, clear as day.
“...You're really a crow, though?”
Out of nowhere, questioning my species.
“Caw! Caw!”
Who else goes “caw caw”?
“Nah, night vision's killer... and those talons are thicc...?”
She stared blankly at my claws.
Mine were pure raptor: thick, boot-like, built for gripping.
“Totally raptor vibes. Neck twists all owl-like... you an owl or barn owl?”
“Caw.”
Told you, they don't caw.
“Nope. You're a raptor.”
“Caw?”
“From today on, raptor. Got it?”
Some weird fixation.
Declare me raptor, and poof, I am?
And why bother?
“And... one more thing.”
“Caw caw.”
Asking a ton.
“Hey, you're a guy, right?”
“Caw!”
I nodded.
Male crow here.
Least, that's what I figure.
“Hmm... gotcha.”
She hummed pleased, then jolted with a shocked look.
Classic raptor beak-gape surprise.
“...Being all nice won't make anything drop off me, y'know? Get real...?”
“Caw?”
Outta nowhere?
Her thoughts were getting real curious.
And I wasn't after rewards anyway.
Though if she dropped a feather or two, I'd put it to good use.
I kept staring, and she squirmed like she didn't know what to do.
Then she shrieked.
“I-I haven't even laid unfertilized eggs yet!”
Utter nonsense.
She's no chicken—what?
“Get close all you want, but you can't have my heart!”
...
Major misunderstanding alert.
“...Yeah, makes sense. Heroes always got concubines and wives galore. I get it.”
Moona nodded, but his tone sounded kinda miffed.
“Shaaak!”
Swungswung turned needle-sharp and jabbed near my butt.
Mimicking how I poke Moona usually.
Clear these guys were way off base.
What do they even think I am?
I like humans!