Chapter 116
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: Suspiciously Suspicious
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Hooh... But it hasn't even laid an unfertilized egg yet.”
Moona spoke with an intrigued expression.
No, wait—what does that even mean?
A chicken thing? An unfertilized egg?
Do raptors normally lay those?
I tilted my head with that puzzled look, and Moona gave a slight nod.
“I overlooked that Little Wind doesn't know basic bird facts. You're still young, so it's only natural.”
The words felt a bit off-putting, but he was right.
I'd started out as a lone hatchling crow breaking free from its shell.
No parents to teach me bird lore, so of course I wouldn't know what they took for granted.
Luckily, I had my human knowledge to fall back on—or I'd still be chirping helplessly.
“It's a metaphor of sorts. Think of it as a young bird that hasn't undergone its coming-of-age rite yet.”
Thank goodness I had Moona by my side.
A wise kiwi bird packed with knowledge, fitting his Sage trait perfectly.
Of course, he sometimes spouted tough words I couldn't follow, but he could explain things simply like this too.
A coming-of-age rite, though? For that yellow eagle-owl?
Well, its size had seemed a bit small, now that I thought about it.
“Its size is full-grown, of course, but it seems it couldn't perform the rite for some reason.”
...So that's adult size?
“Wh-why bring that up?”
It jammed its beak into the ground a bit, like it was embarrassed.
Reminded me of how chickens act around predators.
“You think a coming-of-age rite is as easy as it sounds? And I had my own reasons...”
The term “coming-of-age rite” caught my interest.
It didn't sound like some ordinary ritual.
“Well, a forest rite is probably different from what I know. I'm not blaming you, Little Gale. Like I said, Little Wind's knowledge is a bit lacking.”
Little Gale?
So that's what they call the yellow eagle-owl.
“...Hmph. How can someone that big not know this stuff?”
“Mm... Little Wind is far younger than you.”
“Wh-what?”
The yellow eagle-owl flapped its wings in shock.
Moona wasn't wrong—I wasn't that old.
Not even a year since I hatched. Just a fledgling.
“Liar! That one's younger than me?”
“I believe it hasn't hit a year yet?”
“No way! Hey, beak! Open your beak for a sec!”
What the heck?
The yellow eagle-owl suddenly demanding I open my beak.
Not a big deal, so I parted it slightly.
“Gasp!”
Then it charged like some crocodile bird.
Shoved its head right into my beak without fear.
“Kawk...”
Even Swungswung wouldn't do this.
After poking around inside my beak forever, it finally pulled back.
“Y-you really are younger than me...?”
Can birds judge age by beaks?
Handy knowledge. Might come in use someday.
...Not that I'd ever want to peer into another bird's beak.
“Hmph... I see...”
The yellow eagle-owl seemed pretty pleased.
Why was it happy I'm younger?
Couldn't figure it out.
...Not that I cared to.
We kept scouting the area.
Nothing much, except the yellow eagle-owl sticking close to me now.
“Shwoong...”
Except Swungswung seemed a bit pricklier than usual.
“Crow, speak up if you spot anything.”
“Kawk.”
The yellow eagle-owl had better night vision than most birds, but not as good as mine or Moona's.
“And if you hear a rooster crow, run first.”
“Kawk?”
Rooster crow?
Probably the cockatrice's cry.
“A cockatrice's call falls into two main types. One's your standard bird noise. It sometimes mimics snakes too, but that's natural enough.”
Moona picked up the yellow eagle-owl's thread.
“But a rooster's crow? That's different. The dawn crow of a waking rooster. Yes—that's what they call Command Roar.”
Command Roar!
From the glossary: 계명성 LV1 is Command Roar LV1.
The morning star that heralds dawn—Venus.
But here, it meant the rooster's crow.
“Oh, you know your stuff? Smarter than I thought.”
The yellow eagle-owl nodded.
Still clueless about Moona's Sage status, huh?
“A cockatrice's Command Roar is special. They raid at night to catch it sleeping, right? Even if it wakes, it'll be way weaker than usual. Not weakened, exactly—more like it can't power up.”
Night raids prevent full power.
Not weakening, but blocking enhancement.
And that ties into the Command Roar.
“Kawk kawk kawk!”
“Right. Command Roar boosts its physical stats. Melee power, petrification, poison—all enhanced. That's why they hit at night, when it can't use it.”
Cockatrices, with their chicken habits, rise with the dawn crow.
Full power after sunrise, fading as the day wears on.
Best to strike at its weakest, pre-dawn.
“Sure, rare tales of crowing without sun exist, but that's exceptional. Sometimes they die without crowing when hunted—not something they can just do on command.”
Tch, makes me uneasy.
These stories always tempt fate with the “rare” case.
“Kawk.”
But no worries.
Even if it crows, I doubt it'd beat me.
Dabih and Vega could seal my feathers, but at full power? No contest.
“And... whoa, looks like we're near the nest? See that over there? ...Not that you'd miss it more than me!”
Mid-sentence, the yellow eagle-owl pointed a wing at a corner of the ground.
Following it, I spotted a wriggling black thing.
“Chirrup.”
Little Lesser Centipede LV2
A type of centipede surviving alone after separation from its mother.
It carries strong venom but, lacking maternal guidance, failed to develop normally.
Survival odds are slim, though a stroke of fortune could let it revert to its true species.
A centipede, alright.
A venomous one, at that.
“Cockatrices love eating these. They ingest the venom and make it their own. Finding one here means it was drawn by the cockatrice's poison.”
“Hooh. Indeed...”
Moona sounded genuinely fascinated.
“Luring centipedes with its venom, then hunting them to replenish its own supply.”
“Exactly. Doesn't eat 'em all—sometimes captures spares. Can draw out the venom on demand.”
Like a backup battery.
“Best to clear these out early. Cockatrice might recover strength from them.”
Possible mid-fight venom refill via snacking.
Attrition war? We have to prevent that.
“It's venomous, so watch out. Oh, right—you're the young one? Hm, time to show some elder dignity. Alright, I'll demonstrate.”
The yellow eagle-owl waddled up to the centipede.
“Chirrrup...”
Here to show how to hunt venomous prey, apparently.
Peck.
Not its beak—mine. Not the centipede's head—its butt.
“Eek!”
The yellow eagle-owl jolted like it'd been shocked.
“Wh-wh-what was that! Why'd you do that?!”
Sudden butt-peck? Yeah, startling.
“Kawk.”
I flapped my wing to nudge the centipede the opposite way.
“Huh? What? The centipede?”
It stared at me blankly.
I saw no reason to eat this thing.
Cockatrice is our target—why bother with it?
Just keep it from getting eaten.
“...Worried I'd get bit? Wow... real pro, huh...”
Not my intent, but it seemed pleased, so I said nothing.
“Ahem! R-right! Belly's full anyway—no need to bother.”
It fluttered its wings happily.
This was cockatrice turf either way.
We chased off the centipede and pressed deeper.
“Chirrup...”
Before I left, it dipped its head slightly.
A thank-you?
Status was nothing special—thought it a mere pest.
But it knew I'd spared it.
No real reason to kill or save, though.
Could've built venom resistance eating it.
Something held me back, though.
Knowing it'd lost its mother and survived alone?
Reminded me of my early days here?
Maybe both.
No big deal.
Won't cross paths again.
“Chirrrup...!”
Still bowing as we distanced.
Kinda cute, actually.
....
...Huh?
“Kawk!”
Lately, weird thoughts keep popping up.
Stuff human-me never would've considered. This crow body changing me?
More reason to find Dorothy ASAP.
Stick around like this, and something awful might happen.
Like my human-loving identity twisting into... something suspiciously off. That eerie feeling hit me for a moment.