Orion's Herald
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Chapter 57: (Interlude) How long will I have to tolerate these mortal pigs?
🕑 Added 2025-02-06 13:00:08 +0000 UTCHammond raised a hand, blocking the rays of the afternoon sun. He let out a sigh as he shielded his eyes and glanced around at the inhabitants of the Papyrus Quater. In a word, they were disgusting, little more than sad animals going about their pathetic lives.
They paled in comparison to someone as chosen as him, someone as favoured as him. He glanced back at Marlon—a lucky one, indeed. Hammond had chosen him, after all. Hammond needed followers and their help to awaken the egg.
The sacrifices would not gather themselves. “Why is it again we came to this dump of a quarter?” Hammond asked, cringing in disgust as one of the filthy animals stumbled out of a brothel. Such a pointless endeavour—but then again, most of the things these lesser creatures did were pointless.
“We’ve been too active in the Sirius Quater lately,” Marlon said. His brown eyes shifted around as his short brown hair tussled in the wind. Hammond nodded. It was pointless to move when they’d found such a good feeding ground for the egg.
But Marlon was sometimes right—not as much as Hammond, but it was enough to at least humour him. Besides, Marlon understood how important the egg was to their success, to Hammond’s greatness. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. He was a smart boy.
Hammond’s gaze continued to wander as he waited for the guidance of the seed—a gift given to him by the egg. It gave him and his fellows power as long as they fed it. Hammond scowled as a beggar, teeth rotting out of his mouth, clamoured for spare coin.
The seed did not respond, of course not. How could someone so pathetic have any potential for the egg to make use of?
He would have been lucky to become the egg’s power, my power. But he can’t even serve as the runoff we sell those collar gang idiots. Perhaps I should end his suffering. He’d no doubt appreciate it.
“I’m not picking up anything, Marlon,” Thomas, a fellow Farmhand and someone also lucky enough to be picked by Hammond, said. His head turned from side to side, a frown crossing his features. He’d taken to the eggs gift almost as well as Hammond himself.
Though, that was a given as someone picked by him. Hammond had smiled when the egg had told him how much potential he had. Finally, someone had seen him for what he was. It had given him authority and kept him in its heart. Hammond scowled as a small child assisted a hanger-on. They, the old, occupied unnecessary space.
When the egg hatched and bestowed upon him greatness that he could hardly imagine, all this would change. These pigs would finally become of some use and those hangers-on. He will get rid of them unless they prove useful to his growing kingdom.
Hammond moved around the bustling quarter, the air slithering with the chatter of hapless mortals. The stink of the unwashed forced him to cover his nose a few times. He’d have cut them down right there if it wouldn’t have drawn too much attention.
Marlon said they didn’t need any more of that, and Hammond saw the logic in it. The last thing he needed was to talk to the city guard. They’d accept any lie he told—they always did, but it would still be an annoyance.
He stopped, his feet crushing a flower that lay on the cobblestone. The footfall of other ruined its wilted petals, shredded and torn. Flowers and other plants were the only beautiful thing about this world, and these pigs treated them like this.
As he turned his head to ask Marlon what his plan was, a tight spike pulled at his chest. It didn’t hurt. The pain was dull and muted, more a call for attention than anything else. But Hammond listened. The seed’s pull was never to be ignored.
He rested a hand on his chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The seed hummed, urging him forward. He ambled forward; the pull growing as he did. “Hammond, do you feel that?” Thomas asked.
Hammond set his jaw and continued. He opened his eyes as the pull intensified, practically dragging him forward. He had no time for Thomas’ pointless question, someone with as much potential as him—of course, he could feel it.
That is why you will never come close to my height, Thomas. Far too eager to question, you should just feel and follow. Nothing more, nothing less.
A wave of energy rocked his body. It shook him, sending snakes of ecstasy lashing from his chest. The seed had found someone. The taste of honey pulled at his lips. Whoever the seed had found had a lot of potential indeed—far more than the last few.
“Come on,” Hammond said, waving his hand forward. They need to stick close. He didn’t have time to get distracted.
Hammond rushed forward, almost sprinting. He slammed into something, the force barely phasing him. A girl bounced off his stomach. He snarled and looked down as she scrambled around pathetically on the cobblestone, trying to get to her feet.
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to,” she said, stumbling to her feet with a limp. Her dirty brown hair was a mess of dirt and sticks. Her ugly, weak smile drew attention to the various scars that ran along her features.
“Did you not see me walking, you moron,” Hammond said, as the girl struggled to fix the cloth sack she used for clothes. Hammond scowled. She was an eyesore. “Get out of here, before I lose my patience, pig.”
The girl nodded, limping away. Her pathetic form shaking as she did. What a waste of resources. Hammond turned, sniffing the air. The scent grew stronger. The seed inside him shook, and he smiled—they were getting close.
A cart rattled by splashing dirt behind it as the donkey pulling it neighed. A woman pressed herself against one of the support beams, holding up the small porch of a brothel, making eyes at Hammond. Disgusting. He powered forward, shoes slapping against the stone.
He strolled past the brothel and rounded the corner, the two other Farmhands trailing behind. The seed hummed in his chest. The pull grew as he stepped around the corner of the building. There, further in the alleyway, was a boy.
His ginger hair clung to his forehead as he panted, arms resting on his knees. He spat. A glob of saliva smacked into the dirt. His head turned as he glanced towards Hammond. The boy frowned as the two other Farmhands rounded the corner. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, pushing off his knees and straightening his back.
Hammond fought back the smile wrestling to break out across his lips. The seed’s pull softened in his chest but hummed subtly. He’d found the target. Hammond took a step forward, eyeing the boy, “What’s your name?”
“Huh?” the boy said, taking a step back. Was he trying to run? Surely not—that would be stupid. He’d miss his chance to be more than the pig he was born as.
“You heard me,” Hammond said, stopping before him. “What is your name? I have something for you that I think could very well change your life. Don’t you want to be important?”
The boy glanced back. Hammond raised a brow. What was he looking for? He’d never make it out of the alleyway before Hammond could catch him, so what was the point? The boy turned back, his eyes narrowing. “No. I’m fine. I don’t need to be important.”
You are more of a fool than I thought. But, luckily, it’s no longer up to you.
Hammond smiled. His gaze flickered to the other two Farmhands beside him, and he nodded. He didn’t need to waste time anymore, not like the other day with that swine from the marketplace. Hammond was stronger now.
He pulled on the seed. His legs kicked off the stone as he shot at the boy. This would be over quickly. Hammond’s hand whipped out, chopping for the boy’s neck. The boy staggered back as Hammond’s attack went wide. The ginger-haired boy turned to run.
Too slow. Hammond shot forward, cobblestone cracking underfoot as he moved. He was on the boy in seconds, his hand chopping down. But Hammond's eyes went wide as the boy raised a hand, blocking it with a slap.
The ginger-haired boy used the momentum to push himself forward.
“We’re meant to be doing this quietly,” Marlon yelled from behind. He was a fool. Hammond was stronger now. If he wanted something, all he had to do was take it.
He pulled on the seed in his chest. It responded, energy bubbling at his back. It writhed underneath his skin, undulating with power. A sharp rip tore through the alleyway as Hammond continued to give chase to the boy.
The seed had given him more power. A tentacle whipped at his back. It was like an extra limb; it was beautiful. The tentacle shot forward, wrapping around the boy’s arm and pulling him back with a sharp tug. He let out a scream.
Hammond stepped to the side as the body moved past. With a smack, Hammond chopped his hand down onto the boy’s neck. He slammed into the cobblestone with a heavy thud. The fool shouldn’t have run.
The ginger-haired boy, eyes closed, lay motionless, but the seed could still sense his potential. The boy wasn’t dead. “You didn’t have to do that,” Marlon said, shrinking back as the black tentacle whipped through the air.
Hammond narrowed his eyes. He did what was best. He did what was right—how could someone as lowly as him understand? “You think you could have done better?”
“No,” Marlon said, his feet scuffing across the dirt as he stepped back. “I just think you put us all at—”
“Shut up,” Hammon snapped, cutting him off. He took a step forward, leering at Marlon. The tentacle at Hammond’s back snaked forward, twitching as it moved towards the foolish idiot. “Just because I listen to you from time to time, don’t think that you can tell me what to do.”
Marlon gulped, lowering his head. Towards the back of the alleyway, Thomas’ eyes seemed to almost glow as he watched. The boy kept his gaze on the tentacle—as he should. Hammond smiled. This proved his chosen status and his divine nature. At least one of these two idiots could see it.
He had been too kind to these fools. Yes, he had given them power, but they had grown brave. Marlon's questioning of him proved that. He couldn’t have this happen again. He wouldn’t—from now on, it was time they knew their place in the dirt.
Only he and the egg were to rule. These few Farmhands would be the lucky pigs that got to stand by his side. Hammond brushed past, slamming his elbow into Marlon as he walked by. He glanced to his side, looking at Marlon from the corner of his eye. “Pick the boy up. We are returning to the barn.”
Marlon went to speak. Hammond's tentacle flinched. He wanted Marlon to talk, to give him a reason to put him in the dirt. He hadn’t reminded them of the tools they were, and with his seed growing in strength, he was itching to test it out.
In the end, Marlon didn’t say a thing. He bent down and scooped the boy into his arms. Hammond tutted and turned around, walking past Thomas, who still kept his focus on the tentacle.
Hammond smiled as he pulled the tentacle back into his body.
It wasn’t the time for the world to see his greatness. But they would soon know of him. The egg would make sure of that. He would make sure of that. He was becoming perfection incarnate, and he couldn’t wait to be seen.
A crunch came from beneath Hammond’s feet. He glanced down at the flower poking out from underneath his boots. It was still beautiful, but it was not like him. He’d attained something this small thing could never.
Freedom… and he would never waste it. He walked forward, placing the flower in the back of his mind. They had found a perfect sacrifice, and the egg was waiting. Hammond glanced at the unconscious boy in Marlon’s arms and smiled.
Comments
Leonardo Phipps
Yeah, I see your point, especially since he's not part of the main cast. I'll go with Interlude.
Casual Ham
I might suggest adding something to the title to clarify that this chapter isn't following the MC. Maybe call it an Interlude or Side Chapter so readers will know what to expect.
