A Mythical Journey To Remember - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Billy The Goat

Billy the Goat, that was his name now, but he wasn't always so unique. In fact, he used to be just another goat in a herd, living a life of simplicity and routine. But one tragic day, a lion appeared and mercilessly devoured his mother. Billy would never forget the sight of the predator's crimson-stained jaws and piercing gaze as it looked upon him, sizing him up as a potential meal.

But to his relief, the lion ultimately deemed him unworthy of the effort, already sated from the feast on Billy's poor mother. In that moment, Billy's life was forever changed, his world rocked by a loss so devastating that it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

As Billy had watched his mother being devoured by the lion, he had been paralyzed with fear. The scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils, and the sound of crunching bones echoed in his ears. His heart raced and his muscles tensed, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Even after all these years, the memory of his helplessness still haunted him.

But what disturbed him most was the shameful sense of relief that washed over him when the lion finally turned away. He had known it was cowardly, but he couldn't help feeling grateful that he had been spared.

From that moment on, he made a solemn vow to himself: he would train relentlessly every single day, no matter the cost. He would hurl himself against any obstacle, smashing his body and mind against it until he emerged victorious. He longed to be strong enough to shatter a mountain with a single blow, to defy the very laws of nature with his might. He seethed with a burning desire for revenge, to erase the memory of his former weakness forever.

He would rather die than ever be a coward again, no matter how many times his skull might shatter and break beneath his unyielding will.

As the sun began to rise over the horizon, Billy stirred from his slumber and opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his surroundings. The birds outside chirped a pleasant melody as they began to welcome the new day, but Billy paid them no mind. Instead, he focused on his new owner, who lay sound asleep next to him. Though Billy didn't understand the human language, he could tell from the tone of their voices that they were discussing something important. However, Billy's attention was quickly diverted as he nudged his head against Idas' feet, eager to start his day.

Despite his persistent nudging, Idas remained in a deep slumber, and Billy continued to press on. Eventually, the human stirred, his eyes heavy with sleep. Without much thought, Idas scooped Billy up in his arms and pulled him close, snuggling with the little creature as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Despite his attempts to struggle, Billy found himself trapped in the human's embrace. His body was held firmly, rendering his resistance futile. However, as the warmth of the embrace enveloped him, he began to relax, and soon he found himself surrendering to the comfort of the human's touch. It was as if his mother and family had returned to him, and the sensation was so overwhelming that tears began to trickle down his cheeks. In the quiet light of the morning, with the world still hazy and unreal, Billy finally allowed himself to mourn the loss of his mother.

The pain of her death, which he had suppressed for months, poured out of him in waves, leaving him feeling empty and vulnerable.

***

After that gut-wrenching conversation with my parents, I trudged my way to the bustling village square, holding my goat in my arms.

The marketplace was a chaotic symphony of smells and sounds, with vendors bellowing their wares and children darting around my feet. Despite this being just a small village, it was quite crowded.

Surprisingly, the once-skittish goat now nestled calmly against me.

Heh, a tsundere goat. I knew he would eventually give in.

As I walked around the village square, everything appeared normal. There were a few shops, a blacksmith, a carpenter, and the village head’s stall, which could be considered the local merchant. He usually took trips to the nearby town to sell the things he bought here for a small profit.

But I didn’t stay in the village square for long and went to a house on the corner of the village, close to the river. The only thing that stood out about this hut from the others in the village was that the roof was made of green grass, and there was a flower garden around it. No one in the village had time to manage a garden, but this guy was different.

I didn’t recognize any of the plants as I walked closer to the hut, but I was sure they must be herbs with medicinal properties. Or maybe not, from what I knew, medical practices during these times were more speculative than actual medical practice.

I knocked twice on the door before it opened, and a whiff of medicinal smells assaulted my nose.

"Yep, this is the healer's hut, no doubt," I thought to myself.

The healer had a head full of hard hair, and his beard was bushy and dark, making him look like a character from ancient times. As he stared at me, his gray eyes were cold.

"You're Krano's son. Did your father's arm have any complications?" he asked.

"No, nothing like that," I replied, trying to act as innocent as possible. "I'm just wondering how I can take care of my father, sir. He seems feeble and weak, and I don't want to do anything wrong-"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted me. "Your father might not be able to use his arm, maybe permanently. But that doesn't mean he can't take care of himself."

After saying that, he closed the door, leaving me to hang. I didn't mind his rude behavior. On the contrary, I had gotten what I wanted out of him and didn't want to waste any time.

What my parents were hiding from me was that my father probably wouldn't be able to use the arm the wolf had cut into. With one simple swipe of a beast's claw, it had crippled my father's arm.

Humans are fragile creatures, and now I have to take care of my father.

With him injured, it didn’t matter if I gave up some of my future inventions for money. As long as he could get better, everything would be okay.

My hands were shaking a bit as I walked away from the healer's hut, so I put the goat down. Surprisingly, the little guy didn't run away and instead rubbed his head against my leg.

This panic… It seemed like a part of the original Idas was still here.

From now on, I had to take care of the lands and the family by myself, at least until my father's arm healed, which seemed doubtful at best.

As I thought of how to earn money for the family, one idea came to the forefront of my mind: something that the villagers would love to have and that wouldn't cause too much trouble outside the village.

I walked through the village square, and Billy followed me like a loyal pet. This guy had been strong-headed initially, but as he trotted next to me, he looked cute as hell!

We walked close to the river when my eyes caught a crowd gathering around the shore. I approached them curiously.

"What could they be clambering over?" I wondered.

When I got closer and pushed through to the front of the dozens of people, I heard someone whisper, "Must be a foreigner."

"Probably a mercenary," responded another.

The subject of their conversation was a strikingly beautiful woman, with a golden tan that hinted at hours spent under the sun's embrace. She lay still on the ground, her eyes closed as if in a deep slumber. Her upper body was protected by a sturdy leather armor that hugged her curves, accentuating her lithe form. A metal chestplate, intricately engraved with symbols and designs, glinted in the sunlight. The skirt was adorned with metal plates, each one lovingly embroidered with an intricate pattern that spoke of a master craftsman's skill.

Old, thin scars crisscrossed her toned body, bearing testament to a life lived as a warrior, despite her being a woman. The scars were like roadmaps, telling the story of battles fought and won, and the strength and resilience it took to survive. Despite her feminine features, she was at least a head taller than most of the men in the village, and her silky dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of shadow.

But what truly caught the eye was the blood. A gaping wound just above her hips oozed crimson, its edges ragged and torn as if ripped open by a vicious beast. Another wound, high on her shoulders, looked as if a rusty spear had pierced through flesh and bone, leaving a sickly greenish liquid mixed with blood in its wake.

She was poisoned, bleeding, and half-dead. Yet the first thoughts that ran through my mind weren't of how she was probably already dead, but maybe there was still a chance for her to survive.

I crouched down and took off her metal chest plate.

"What's he doing?!" bellowed one of the villagers.

"Pull him off!" a woman screamed.

Before anyone could intervene, I pressed down on the breathless woman. I had only learned about CPR and chest compressions from TV shows and movies, but I tried to perform them with the form I had seen on screen. On my third attempt, someone pulled my shoulder, trying to get me off. But just then, the woman coughed, and I moved her to the side as she vomited the water, and her chest started moving again.

Although the woman was still not fully conscious, she muttered under heaved breaths, "Arachsh..."

Whatever that name meant, it was a mystery. I didn't care much about it, as the woman was alive but still poisoned and bleeding profusely.

"A miracle..." one of the villagers whispered.

I turned to them, and everyone was looking at me with wide eyes.

The only miracle here was that the woman was poisoned, bleeding, had drowned, and was still alive through all that.

"A man brought to life!" yelled another villager.

"A miracle of the gods!" joined another.

I didn't like the feverish look in their eyes. My heart sank as I finally comprehended how it must have looked to them.

Oh… this was bad.