Chapter 30: Chapter 30 — The Festival of the Hunt
The village was unrecognizable. The streets we used to walk in silence now vibrated with overwhelming energy, a tide of laughter, music, and color that enveloped everything. Crimson and gold banners fluttered from every corner, and the aroma of spices and roasted meat mixed with the sweet scent of flowers that the villagers hung from the balconies.
A group of people wearing monster masks passed by us, dancing to the rhythm of drums and flutes. Their movements were chaotic but joyful, and the masks depicted grotesque creatures: twisted fangs, deformed horns, bulging eyes painted in garish colors. It was like watching a Brazilian Carnival, but with monster designs straight out of a medieval bestiary. The mix was strange, fascinating, and, for a certain someone, terrifying.
I felt a small tug on my pants and looked down. Lia had hidden behind us, gripping the fabric with her tiny fingers while her big brown eyes followed the masks with barely contained panic.
Samira crouched down immediately, taking her little hand with a tenderness that melted my heart.
"Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re just people in costumes. They’re not real monsters," she told her, gently stroking her knuckles. "Look, see that one over there? That’s the uncle from the bread stall. He’s wearing a wolf mask, but underneath he’s still the same grumpy baker as always."
Lia peeked her head out a little more, still clinging to my leg.
"The man who gave us free bread the other day?" she asked in her tiny voice.
"The very same," I confirmed, patting her on the head. "So there’s nothing to fear, princess. Besides, you have two orcs, a legendary spiritist, and your dad to protect you. Not even the bravest monster would dare come close."
Lia let out a shy little laugh, and although she still didn’t let go of my pants, her grip relaxed a bit. Progress.
Beside me, Chimera was... very close. Very, very close. Her imposing two-meter-forty figure had attached itself to my right arm like a luxury accessory, and her G-cup breasts pressed against my side with a determination that bordered on obscene. She wore a dark dress that covered her stitched arms with gothic elegance, but the outfit did nothing to hide the fact that she was literally wrapped around me.
Samira looked at me.
She arched an eyebrow.
Then she furrowed her brow, and her violet eyes shot sparks.
"I told you not to bring her," she said, her tone as tight as a bowstring.
Chimera turned her head with calculated slowness, her scarlet eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.
"Huh. I can hear you, you third-rate spiritist," she purred, without loosening her grip on me a single millimeter.
"Third-rate?" Samira stepped forward, and her G-cup bust, squeezed into a tight purple dress, rose defiantly. "Say that again, stitched-up freak. Let’s see if your mouth can produce words or just stray bitch drool."
"The stray bitch must be your grandmother, you carnival sorceress."
The two glared at each other, their foreheads nearly touching. Their gigantic, firm breasts pressed against one another in a volume competition I’d seen before, but which never ceased to be surreal.
The people around us began to stare with a mix of curiosity and alarm. A small child pointed at the two women and his mother quickly pulled him away.
God. This was the classic waifu fight over the protagonist. I’d seen it dozens of times in the animes I consumed back on Earth, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. And it wasn’t as fun as they made it look on screen.
I cleared my throat loudly.
"Ladies," I said, stepping between them with one arm while holding Lia with the other. "I don’t mean to sound like a jerk, but... don’t you think you’re a little too old for this kind of thing? There’s a child present who’s uncomfortable watching her mothers fight over childish nonsense."
Both fell silent. Chimera was the first to look away, followed by Samira, who closed her eyes and let out a tense sigh. The tension didn’t disappear entirely, but at least they stopped glaring daggers at each other.
"These women..." I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.
Lia, meanwhile, looked at the three of us in turn, not quite understanding what had just happened. I ruffled her hair and offered her a reassuring smile.
"All done, princess. Moms argue sometimes, but it’s nothing serious. Let’s go find some food."
---
We made our way to a street food stall that gave off an aroma so potent my stomach growled like a furious dragon. The owner, a chubby man with a grease-stained apron, stirred an enormous iron cauldron while frying pieces of something I’d never seen before.
"Fresh Salmik meat!" he proclaimed. "Just caught! Today only, two servings for the price of one!"
"Salmik?" I asked, approaching the stall.
"A delicacy, Mister Adventurer!" the cook replied with a proud smile. "It’s an aquatic monster. Octopus body, salmon head. We fished it out of the river this morning. See for yourself!"
He pointed to a barrel where pink tentacles topped with astonished-looking fish heads floated. The combination was, at the very least, ripped from a culinary nightmare. Octopus and salmon. Together. In the same animal.
"My God," I murmured.
"I want to try it," Chimera said, her eyes gleaming with culinary interest.
"It intrigues me too," Samira added, momentarily forgetting her rivalry.
"Daddy, daddy! Can I eat some of that?" Lia tugged at my sleeve with enthusiasm.
"I guess today’s the day to be brave," I sighed, pulling out a few silver coins.
We ordered a generous feast and sat down on some wooden benches nearby. To my surprise, the Salmik meat was delicious. The tentacles had a firm but tender texture, with a flavor reminiscent of seafood mixed with the smokiness of salmon. The local spices gave it a spicy, sweet kick that exploded in the mouth.
"This is incredible," I admitted, polishing off my portion.
"I didn’t expect such an ugly bug to taste this good," Chimera commented, licking her fingers with her long tongue.
"Lia, do you like it?" Samira asked.
The little girl nodded with her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, unable to speak with her mouth full. It was so adorable that even Chimera cracked a genuine smile.
As we sampled the culinary oddities of the festival, a large group of villagers gathered around a stall on the other side of the square. Laughter, cheers, and applause erupted from the crowd.
"What do you think is going on over there?" I asked.
"Let’s go see," Samira said, taking Lia’s hand.
We politely made our way through the crowd, asking permission and apologizing for the occasional elbow. When we reached the front, we discovered it was a game stall.
A tall, gaunt man, with theatrical makeup that gave him a sinister yet comical air, gestured dramatically while holding two rag dolls: one depicted a knight in silver armor, the other a golden-haired maiden.
"Who dares to win these precious dolls of the Great Hero and his Beloved?" he announced in a town crier’s voice, moving the dolls like puppets. "Only the most skilled can claim them. Is there a brave soul among the audience?"
Lia looked at me immediately. Her little eyes shone with that pleading expression that only small daughters know how to make, and that is utterly impossible to refuse.
"Daddy, please," she said, grabbing my clothes with both hands.
"Alright, princess," I replied, unable to hold back a smile.
I raised my hand.
"Oh, a brave one!" the stall keeper exclaimed, pointing at me with a bejeweled finger. "Step forward, young adventurer."
I approached the counter. The man produced a pair of rough-looking knives and placed them in front of me, along with a vertical wooden board from which several dolls hung by thin strings.
"The rules are simple," he explained. "You just have to hit the wooden pegs that hold the dolls, and the prizes will fall. But I warn you: no magic allowed. Only skill and aim."
I looked at the knives, then at the wooden pegs. They were small, about the thickness of a finger, and set at strange angles. Hitting them with the blade was already difficult, but doing it with the handle to avoid damaging the dolls was a challenge of pinpoint precision. No doubt the game was designed to make people fail over and over, spending coins in the attempt. The classic carnival scam.
But I wasn’t just any customer.
I took a deep breath. Lia was waiting for me. Or rather, she was waiting for her dad to get her one of those dolls. And I wasn’t about to let her down.
"Before you throw, you must know that you can’t use magic," the man repeated, emphasizing the rule.
"Fine," I replied, though a part of me was already calculating how to compensate for the lack of magic with my enhanced physical stats. Grip wasn’t magic. Strength wasn’t magic. And my eye for distances, trained in the recent battles, wasn’t either.
I got into throwing position. I gripped the knife handle firmly, applied a bit of force, and visualized the trajectory. Then I threw.
The knife spun through the air and struck the wooden peg exactly where it needed to. The board creaked, spun on itself, and released the knight doll, which fell onto the table with a heavy thud.
The stall keeper’s jaw dropped.
"What—!" he started to say, but cut himself off.
"That was luck," he muttered, regaining his composure. "Just luck."
I smiled inwardly. Alright. If he wanted luck, I’d give him luck.
I got back into position, took the next knife, and repeated the process. Then another. And another. What followed was a rain of precise throws. Each knife traced a perfect arc and struck the wood with surgical precision. The dolls fell one after another: the hero, the beloved, a bear, a dragon, a small winged creature...
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. The stall keeper’s eyes went blank, his jaw hanging loose and his gaze lost. He was so stunned that he didn’t even react when I started gathering the prizes.
"Let’s go," I said to my group, distributing the spoils.
I gave the knight doll to Lia. She hugged it as if it were the most valuable treasure in the world.
"Thank you, Daddy," she said, her smile lighting up the entire square.
The hero’s beloved doll I handed to Samira, who accepted it with a delicate blush on her cheeks.
"You’re a romantic idiot," she murmured, but her fingers clutched the doll tenderly.
To Chimera I offered a bear plushie, but she politely declined and pointed at the knight doll Lia was holding.
"Would you mind swapping with me, little one?" the stitched giantess asked with unusual sweetness.
Lia, who was a ray of sunshine in child form, agreed immediately and handed over the knight. Chimera held it with reverence, her scarlet eyes gleaming with fascination, as if she’d just been given a jewel. The little girl, in exchange, ended up with a bear plushie three times her size, and she didn’t complain at all. In fact, she hugged it tightly while laughing.
"She sure knows how to negotiate," Samira commented under her breath.
"I had good teachers," Chimera replied, and for an instant, the two exchanged a glance that almost, almost seemed like a hint of mutual respect.
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