Trafficked: Reborn Heir's Revenge-Chapter 32: Carcass Mail

Chapter 32: Carcass Mail

Oliver sat perched on the thick, gnarled branch of the cactus tree, breathing heavily as he pulled the needle-like thorns from his body one by one. Each sting was a sharp reminder of the pain, but he barely flinched. In his previous life as a slave, he had endured far worse than this. Compared to the whips, the starvation, the fangs, the abuse, the hopeless nights — this was nothing.

One by one, the thorns came out, tiny punctures riddling his body like a worn-out cloth. Yet, curiously, no blood flowed from the wounds. Just as he suspected.

No matter how injured I get… bleeding out won't kill me.

Honestly not a bad gift from the blood flowing in his veins. Dying of blood loss was not a nice way to go. But the wounds still hurt.

Then again, Oliver was not so foolish as to believe that a deadly blow would not kill him. Also, there were other ways to die outside blood loss.

And in the somara empire, there were at least a thousand of them.

He looked down at the scorpions prowling below, then up at the burning red sun that hung heavily in the sky. It was blisteringly hot. His body ached. But he was alive.

At that thought, a small chuckle escaped his lips. It grew, bubbling up into full-blown laughter, raw and victorious. It was reckless. It was dangerous. It was human.

The bloodline will — the floating, bloodied skull that haunted his every step — tilted slightly, regarding him like one would a madman.

><"Are you going crazy already?"> it asked, its voice dripping with amusement. <"Or is the heat cooking what’s left of your brain?">

Oliver snapped his head toward it, his grin fading into a scowl. "Shut the hell up," he growled. "You didn't lift a damn finger to help. You're nothing but a pain in the ass."

The skull blinked — if something so grotesque could blink — seeming genuinely surprised. For a moment, it looked like it wanted to retort, but the look in Oliver’s eyes made it think twice. It drifted back a little, uncharacteristically silent.

Oliver turned away, not wasting another second.

He was beginning to realize that the bloodline will wasn’t here to save him. Its true purpose was something he'd figure out later. Right now, survival came first.

His gaze fell on the dead scorpion lying below. Curiosity tugged at him. An idea had bloomed in his head, and he wanted to see to it.

Slowly, he crawled down the cactus tree, careful not to slip. The scorpions below shifted uneasily at his approach but didn’t lunge.

Oliver assumed fear or maybe the memory of their comrade’s acid-melted death kept them at bay.

Reaching the ground, Oliver removed his shoes, the coarse sand burning against his skin. He edged forward carefully, extending one foot toward the corpse, toes just brushing the sticky blood oozing from the ruptured shell.

The moment his skin made contact, two things happened.

First, his body — riddled with punctures — began to heal, the wounds knitting shut, slow, but at a visible rate as he absorbed the scorpion’s blood.

Second, a familiar, thrilling alert rang out in his mind.

> [Blood Shard: 2/5]

Oliver grinned wide.

Just as I hoped.

Without wasting time, he scrambled back up the plant, heart pounding with renewed excitement.

Today was a good day to be alive.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid.

He had survived so far, yes — but the real battle was still ahead. The battle against Barka, the monstrous commoner.

Oliver’s current cultivation rank — Blood Initiate — was laughably low. He could only sense Aether, nothing more. Against a brute like Barka, it was nearly useless.

Still, he wasn't helpless anymore.

The nightmarish dream trials he'd endured had hardened him, strengthening his body enough to survive a direct hit from that monster. And with every victory, he climbed closer to real power.

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Hope was a dangerous thing, but right now, he allowed himself a little of it.

Wishing won’t make it happen, Oliver reminded himself. Action will.

He glanced at the swarm of scorpions. In a head-on fight, even a single one could kill him easily. Ninety-five more was just... excessive.

But he wasn’t worried.

Not anymore.

Because now, he had a secret weapon.

He looked up at the massive cactus tree — the Blue Carcass Plant — that had saved his life. Its fruits, poisonous and deadly, hung low and heavy. He counted four fruits on this tree alone. Scattered around him, there were ten more trees, each tree was a significant distance from the other, and each carrying four or five fruits.

Lethal acid bombs, ready to be harvested.

A plan formed swiftly in his mind.

Removing his shirt, Oliver reached up and carefully plucked one of the fruits. It was tender to the touch, almost delicate. Too much pressure and it would burst, melting him alive just like the scorpion below.

Tying the fruit securely into the folds of his shirt, he left one hand free.

Gripping another fruit carefully, he raised it high — and hurled it into the mass of scorpions.

It arced beautifully, landing squarely on the head of an unfortunate creature. A sizzling crack filled the air as acid exploded, melting through the thick shell into the flesh beneath. The scorpion shrieked, curling into a tight, desperate ball — but nothing could save it now. It writhed once, then went still.

> [Bellied Desert Bloody Scorpion: 6/100]

Oliver felt a surge of savage joy.

So this is what winning feels like.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the last two fruits from the branch and flung them as well. Another two scorpions met gruesome ends, their bodies melting into smoking pools of acid and shell.

Gingerly, Oliver dropped back to the ground, mindful of the fruit tied to his back.

As he expected, the remaining scorpions were wary now. They wanted to attack, but instinct told them that the fruit clinging to his body spelled certain death.

The bloodline will floated nearby, observing silently.

For the first time, it didn’t taunt him.

Instead, a ghost of an approving smile flickered across its face. It nodded once — a rare gesture of respect.

Damn right, Oliver thought grimly. I figured it out.

He made his way to the first corpse, kneeling beside the steaming remains.

Pressing his hand into the blood, he triggered another alert.

> [Blood Shard: 3/5]

A grin tugged at his lips.

He moved to the next.

> [Blood Shard: 4/5]

Good. Very good.

He needed more fruits.

Without hesitation, Oliver sprinted toward the next cactus tree, ignoring the thorns that ripped at his skin. His bloodline gift would prevent infection or blood loss. He could endure it.

Climbing up — almost slipping once — he reached another set of fruits.

Carefully, he repeated the process, tying one to his body and throwing the others into the scorpion horde.

This time, one missed — but three others found their mark.

> [Bellied Desert Bloody Scorpion: 9/100]

A second notification followed, golden and brilliant:

> [Blood Shard: 5/5]

[Congratulations. You have unlocked a Blood Shard.]

Oliver paused, the moment sinking in. His body felt different. Stronger. Hungrier.

He grinned to himself, a glint of sharp determination flashing in his eyes.

Today really is a good day to be alive.

Oliver’s gaze settled on the red notification pulsing before him.

> [Blood Shard Acquired: Tap to Unlock]

He hesitated for a moment, then tapped.

The moment his finger touched the icon, the air around him shimmered. A low hum filled his ears, and from the red light emerged an armor — deep crimson, forged in a shifting pattern of jagged, curling lines like veins carved into metal. It pulsed faintly, as though alive. The design was sharp, twisted, and distinctly demonic.

It hovered there in front of him, glowing faintly.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

> [Blood Shard Armor Unlocked: Carcass Mail]

<Requirement: 50 Aether Points to Equip

Note: Can be equipped in full or in parts. Invisible mode available.>

“Carcass Mail…” Oliver whispered.

He reached forward, knocking gently against the floating chestplate. The sound it gave off was solid — thick and hard, like the shell of the desert scorpions. It wasn’t ornamental. This was real protection.

He could already picture it — wearing this in battle against Barka. The way the brute’s fists would slam into the armor and bounce off.

With this, he could turn the tables. With this, he might actually win.

But then, reality intruded.

Firstly, this was merely for defending. Attacking was a whole other issue.

Secondly, equipping it would mean manifesting armor out of thin air. Someone–no, everyone would see.

Even if it was just for a moment, it would raise too many questions. He was still in chains. Still collared. Still marked as a slave.

And the Bloodline Suppression Seal on the chains was supposed to prevent Aether use.

If word got out — and on this ship, it definitely would— someone would snitch for an extra loaf of bread.

Worst of all, Oliver wasn't alone. There were over a hundred people aboard this vessel stronger than him.

And someone like Garron — someone with that quiet, knowing stare — would come up with a more miserable plan to take him out.

Oliver leaned back against the cactus, not caring if the thorns dug into his skin. He let the pain sit with him.

What good is a miracle, he thought bitterly, if you can’t even use it?

But then something caught his eye — a small tab at the corner of the display:

> [View Properties]

He clicked.

A scroll of information unfurled before him, neat and precise in its bloody red font.

> [Carcass Mail - Properties]

• Integrity: 100%

• This armor grows with the user it bonds to.

• Can block 9 attacks from an enemy of equal level.

• Can block 3 attacks from an enemy one level above.

• Can be equipped partially (arms, legs, chest, etc).

• Invisible Mode available.

Consumes Aether at 2x the normal rate.

• Cooldown: Once unequipped, cannot be summoned again for 24 hours.

• Usable in both dream world and reality.

Oliver read it twice. Then a third time.

Partial equips. Invisible mode. Durable, adaptive. And it wasn’t just a one-time gimmick — it would grow with him.

That changed everything.

Still, the cooldown was dangerous. One wrong call, and he’d be stuck armorless for a full day. And the invisible option burned twice the Aether — not ideal when every point mattered.

Oliver sank to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest, the dream heat baking down on him. His fingers drummed lightly against his elbow as thoughts spun in his head.

He needed a plan. A real one.

Because when he woke up, the fight with Barka would be waiting.

And this time, his life, and Velma’s, depended on what he did next.