Trafficked: Reborn Heir's Revenge-Chapter 31: Fangs, Fruit, Fool’s luck.

Chapter 31: Fangs, Fruit, Fool's luck.

The weight of the scorpion’s corpse pressed against his back, heavy, warm, and rotting. But right now, it was the safest place.

Oliver dared not to breathe too loud. Every rasp of air sounded deafening to his ears. Above him, the crunch of carapace against fang echoed — slow, deliberate, wet.

A claw scraped against the ground just inches from his exposed foot, and he clenched every muscle, praying the darkness would keep him hidden a little longer.

The stench of blood and bile filled his mouth. His body screamed for him to run, to crawl, to move — but he knew: one mistake, one shift, and the horde would find him.

And there would be no mercy.

It was a heavy, growing panic sitting right in his chest.

He peeked out from the crack under the carapace.

The scorpions were still there.

All 96 of them.

Some scuttling around lazily, some chewing noisily on corpses.

None of them in a real hurry now — not without any living prey left.

But that didn’t make things any better.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

If he stayed here too long, he was going to die.

Simple as that.

The problem was... there was nowhere to go.

Just sand.

The burning red sun.

Those weird fat Blue Carcass Plants scattered around.

And nothing else.

No walls. No ruins. No caves. Just the desert swallowing everything whole.

Oliver’s throat tightened. There was no way out.

Until—

Wait.

His eyes landed on one of the plants again.

The Blue Carcass Plants.

They were big.

Big enough to maybe climb, if he made it there.

And now that he was looking properly, he realized something that had always been there, but was now ringing more than ever. The scorpions were giving them space.

They weren't getting too close to the plants.

Oliver felt a small spark of hope light up.

The name "Poisonous Blue Carcass" sounded nasty, but he knew what this thing really was.

A cactus.

He'd never been to a desert before, not as a prince.

But as a slave?

He’d been dragged through dungeons with desert biomes a few times.

His former masters, nobles and royals of the somara empire had been careful, almost paranoid, and they'd made him study every detail about dungeons before they entered.

It had been a miserable life.

But right now...

That knowledge was the only thing keeping him alive.

The Blue Carcass Plant was poisonous — but it wasn’t the cactus itself.

It was the round, blue fruit hanging off it that was dangerous. Each plant carried 4, maybe 5 of these fruits.

Still, it was enough to keep the scorpions away. Even a person would be wise to stay away from them.

But if he could reach one of those plants, climb it regardless of the thorns, or at least, if he could just get close enough...

He might actually be safe.

Oliver’s eyes flicked up.

The mission description still floated faintly in the sky:

< [Trial Objective: Vengeance of the Wastes]

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

100 Bottomless-Bellied Desert Bloody Scorpions have taken over this land, killing its people, poisoning its soil, and consuming all life—save for the accursed poisonous Blue Carcass Plant.

Objective: Kill Count: 4/100

Duration: 72 Hours

The people cry for justice. Be their blade.>

Exactly what he thought.

The plant was poisonous.

That’s why the scorpions didn’t touch it. Beasts usually had good instincts when it came to danger.

But getting there was the problem.

The moment he made a move, the scorpions would rush him.

Unless... unless the ones closest to him weren’t facing him.

Maybe— just maybe— he could sprint past before they caught up.

He paused, frowning. How did he even know that? It was not like he had fought these things before.

There was no reason he should know how they moved.

And then it hit him.

The contract.

<Contract Gift: Access to demon knowledge, can request minor aid.>

Because of his pact with Accra, he had access to information he shouldn’t normally have.

That had to be it.

And the knowledge came flooding in:

Scorpions moved fastest forward.

They could move sideways, but it was slow and awkward for them.

Their tails could only strike forward, not backward, nor to the sides. The target had to be in front of them.

Even their pincers worked better head-on.

It wasn't much.

But right now, even a scrap of information was life or death.

Oliver almost laughed bitterly.

He would have hugged that damned demon, and given him a kiss if he could.

He squinted ahead. The closest Blue Carcass Plant wasn’t far.

Maybe twenty meters? About 65 feet — if he ran flat out, maybe 25 or 30 big steps.

It was doable.

Barely.

The path wasn’t clear, though.

On the right, three scorpions were facing away from him. One was turned slightly to the side.

On the left, three were side-stepping, slow and clumsy. The last one had its back to him completely.

He had a chance.

Above him, the gnawing, scraping sounds grew louder.

Something was getting closer.

He could practically feel the breath of death on the back of his neck.

He had to move.

Now.

But just as he was about to, one of the scorpions shifted. Its heavy pincers clacked, and its tail curled tighter.

Then it turned — directly forward.

Right into his path.

Oliver froze, heart hammering painfully in his ears.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," he cursed silently.

This wasn’t good. 'What the hell? Can't you just be like your other brothers, and face your ass the other way?' Oliver cursed the mother of the scorpion in his heart.

But there was nothing he could do about it.

He waited.

Watched.

Lickily, the scorpion twitched again — Its back leg shifted just a little.

Was it about to turn?

The sound of gnawing above him grew louder. It was closer than ever.

He could feel it now, the tremble of whatever it was coming down the eaten flesh toward him.

No more waiting.

No more second chances.

Oliver gritted his teeth, bent his knees —

—and pushed off the ground as hard as he could.

He ran.

The moment Oliver kicked off the ground, a voice chuckled dryly.

><"And he's off, ladies and gentlemen! The desert’s slowest escape artist, sprinting for his miserable little life!">

It was the Bloody Skull — the wretched thing that symbolized his bloodline, and refused to answer when oliver was calling for it— lounging somewhere atop a nearby sand dome, its crimson, skeleton hands somehow clapping mockingly.

Oliver ignored it.

He had no time to waste.

His feet slammed against the sand with desperate force. Each step, uneven, felt like it might sink him into the desert forever. The sun burned overhead, the heat clawing at his skin. His heart thundered like a war drum.

But he did not stop.

The scorpions noticed him almost instantly.

Legs scraping, tails twitching — but they were slow to turn, just as he’d hoped. He tore through the shifting sand, aiming for the towering cactus-like Blue Carcass Plant in the distance.

<"Ladies and gentlemen, our contestant is making a bold move! Will he survive? Probably not!">

The bloody skull cackled again, its voice somehow crystal-clear over the roar of Oliver’s own blood pounding in his ears.

Just a few more steps.

He could almost feel the cool shadow of the plant brushing his skin—

Then—

A dark shape lunged from the corner of his vision.

The last scorpion.

The one that hadn’t fully turned.

Its pincer snapped just inches from Oliver’s ankle. He yelped, twisting mid-stride. A sharp, sour stench filled the air as the creature hissed.

Oliver had no choice.

He hurled himself forward, his small frame aided him–slamming into the Blue Carcass Plant with a bone-jarring thud.

Pain exploded across his body.

The cactus spines stabbed into him like burning knives.

His arms, his side, even his thighs — punctured, bleeding.

He wanted to scream, but the rush of terror kept him silent.

The only thing louder than the pain was the frenzied scrabbling behind him.

The scorpion wasn’t giving up.

It slammed into the base of the plant, furious that its prey had slipped away.

Oliver scrambled upward, ignoring the stabbing pain of every cactus spine that tore at his flesh.

Blood slicked his hands. His muscles burned.

Again and again, the scorpion rammed the plant.

Its tail lashed up, jabbing wildly, missing Oliver’s small frame by mere inches every time.

><"Brave! Or perhaps just incredibly stupid! Give it up for our tiny gladiator!">

The Bloody Skull’s voice rang out, dry and amused.

Oliver gritted his teeth.

He would not die here. That’s when he saw it.

Above the raging scorpion’s head — faint, but visible:

> [Inflicted with Accra’s Ancient Rage]

Oliver’s gut twisted.

Of course.

No demon’s gift ever came without a curse. Now, he wanted to slap Accra across the face once more.

Snarling, the scorpion struck at him again, narrowly missing his ribs.

Oliver climbed higher, gasping for breath, each movement agony.

And then —

His foot slipped.

Scrambling for purchase, his shoe landed squarely on one of the bobbling blue fruits, each the size of a melon.

It popped free.

Fell.

Time seemed to slow.

The fruit hit the scorpion’s head with a splat — bursting open.

A flood of steaming acid poured down the beast’s carapace.

The scorpion let out a shriek that scraped at Oliver’s very bones. Its flesh sizzled, melted, caving in as the poison devoured it. The creature twitched once, then collapsed lifeless beneath the tree.

The other scorpions, watching from a distance, scuttled back hastily.

Even they knew better.

Up above, Oliver clung to the bleeding tree, panting heavily, his arms trembling.

He watched the corpse steam and melt into the sand beneath him, feeling the first tiny flicker of real hope since this nightmare began.

Far off, the Bloody Skull gave a standing ovation, conjuring more tiny bloody hands to clap mockingly.

<"Bravo, little prince! Bravo!">

A small alert blinked into existence in front of Oliver's blurred vision:

> [Bellied Desert Bloody Scorpion Killed: 5/100]

Oliver barely noticed it.

He just stayed there for a moment, clinging to the cactus, feeling the hundreds of needle stings of the cactus on his body, and the poison fruit stink in the air.

He was alive.

For now.

(Author's note: Ratings... Ratings... I'm like in my zombie mode now.)