Chapter 436: You Pathetic Maggots!

The horrendous shouts tore through the quiet calm of the lake.

And hearing all this made something inside Grandma Wanda finally snapped.

Her heart pounded so hard that her chest ached. Her old hands trembled, not from fear, but from rage so sharp it made her vision blur.

To hear these men, these filthy, shameless, godless men, speak of her granddaughter like that...to hear them chant about cutting her open, feeding her to a monster—

No.

No one. Not even the gods above would ever dare harm Nala while she still drew breath.

"You wretched dogs!" Wanda hissed, her voice quivering with fury. "You dare speak of my granddaughter like that?!"

She slammed her cane into the ground once, hard enough to make the dirt crack. Then, before anyone could react, she moved.

Despite her age, her body coiled like a spring, fueled by decades of hauling nets heavier than men, of pulling boats through storms, of fighting against the wild waters.

And with that strength, she swung.

Her cane cut through the air like a whip, and cracked against Marcus’s skull.

SMACK!

The sound echoed like a gunshot.

Marcus’s eyes rolled back as the blow sent him flying backward into the dirt, crashing into the legs of the men behind him. A streak of blood splattered across the ground.

For a moment, everyone, villagers, thugs, stood frozen in stunned silence.

Then, Wanda planted her cane back down and glared at them all, her eyes burning like molten iron.

"How dare you!" She growled, voice trembling with righteous fury. "How dare you speak of my granddaughter in such a vile way. She is not a curse. She is not your sacrifice. She is my baby, my precious child. And I’ll be damned before I let you lay so much as a scratch on her!"

Her voice rose, sharp and commanding.

"While I live, none of you will set one filthy foot in this village...Do you hear me? None of you!"

The mob recoiled, whispering among themselves in disbelief.

But Marcus...Marcus was getting up.

He was on his knees first, clutching his forehead as blood dripped down his face and into his eyes. Then he rose slowly, unsteady but fuming, his lips curling into a murderous sneer.

"Oh, you’ve done it now, old hag..." He spat, his voice rough and trembling with rage. "You’ll regret that...I’ll take your life first. And then that little freak you call a granddaughter—I’ll drag her out myself!"

He started toward her, step by heavy step, his hand reaching out as if to strangle her on the spot.

The villagers gasped, several rushing forward to protect Wanda, but before anyone could reach her,

A voice rang out.

It wasn’t loud. But it was enough to stop everything.

"You dare...try to lay a hand on my precious Grandma Wanda?"

It wasn’t the kind of voice one expected to hear in a battlefield, it wasn’t deep or thunderous. It was cheeky and bold like someone was trying to act like a hero.

Marcus froze mid-step, head turning just slightly—

CRACK!

A blur flashed across the air, followed by a sharp, explosive snap.

Marcus screamed as something slashed across his face, a clean, merciless strike that tore open his cheek and split his skin all the way from temple to jaw. Blood sprayed out in a scarlet arc, staining the dirt beneath him.

He fell backward again, clutching his face and howling in agony.

The mob staggered back in shock.

And all eyes turned toward the source of the voice.

Standing there, just beyond the line of villagers—was Nala.

Her white scales glistened under the afternoon light, the tip of her tail still coiled and raised, fresh blood dripping from the sharp edge where she had lashed him.

She looked nothing like the playful, cheerful woman from earlier.

Her expression was cold, furious, her amber eyes glowing with righteous wrath.

She stood in front of Grandma Wanda like a wall of living steel, her body tense, her tail lashing behind her like a serpent ready to strike again.

"You filthy vermin." She snarled, pointing straight at Marcus and his men. "You dare talk about my grandma like that? You dare even breathe her name with your rotten mouths?"

Her voice rang across the field, sharp and venomous.

"You pathetic maggots, you don’t even have the right to stand in front of her! The fact that she’s even talking to you is a gift from the heavens! It’s something you should be on your knees thanking her for, not threatening her!"

The mob shuffled uneasily.

"But no, you crawling dung beetles actually think you can hurt her?" Nala’s tone grew even sharper, her words cutting like blades. "You maggots who dig through filth, shit-stains that should’ve stayed in someone’s underwear, actually dare to touch my grandmother?!"

The men flinched as she went on, her fury unrestrained.

"You useless, brainless, inbred bastards! Your mothers should be ashamed for giving birth to vermin like you! Do the world a favor and cut off your own dicks before you breed more of your kind!"

A few of the men actually stepped back, visibly shaken.

Even the villagers were staring wide-eyed, half shocked, half impressed by how vicious her tongue could be.

Grandma Wanda just stood there, blinking at her granddaughter’s fiery outburst. Then she sighed softly, shaking her head with a helpless smile.

"Nala..." She muttered. "What are you doing here? I told you to run, didn’t I? I told you to hide."

Nala turned to her, flipping her hair back and huffing. "Really, Grandma? You think I’d actually run away while you’re out here fighting alone?"

Wanda exhaled, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small, proud smile. "Honestly...I should’ve known. You’ve never listened to me a single day of your life."

"Exactly!" Nala said proudly. "So don’t bother trying to send me away now!"

She then turned to face the villagers, who were both relieved and horrified at her appearance.

"And you guys too." She said, her tone softening slightly. "I know you wanted me to stay hidden, but there’s no way I’m letting you fight alone. You said they’d have to go through you to get to me, right? Well..."

She raised her chin and pointed at the mob again, eyes burning.

"I’ll say the same thing—if they want to harm anyone in this village, they’ll have to go through me."

The villagers murmured in awe, their fear giving way to renewed courage.

Marcus, meanwhile, groaned and pushed himself up again, blood pouring from his face. His expression was pure hatred now.

"You...you bitch!" He shouted hoarsely. "You ruined my handsome face! You, ugh, you made me touch your filthy tail!"

He gagged and spat blood, his expression twisting into one of disgust.

"Now I’m cursed just like you! You disgusting creature!"

Nala’s eyes darkened, as Marcus sneered wider, rage twisting into perverse mockery.

"You know, I was just going to sacrifice you before, give you a clean death...But now? Oh, now I’m going to ruin you."

He stepped forward again, wiping the blood from his face and smirking.

"Your tail might be disgusting, but that upper body of yours..." His eyes ran over her in a sickening way. "...that’s another story."

The crowd murmured uneasily.

"I’ve never seen a woman like you in my life." He continued with a lewd grin. "It’s a shame about that bottom half, really...But don’t worry, I’ll make it worth my while."

"I’ll enjoy every bit of you before throwing you to the Leviathan. I’ll run my tongue all over you, kiss those lips, bite into those plump breasts until you bleed and make sure my seed fills your cursed body before I feed you to the lake."

The men behind him howled with laughter, shouting vile encouragements.

"Yeah! Let us have a go too!"

"I want her first!"

"No, me!"

"Let’s see what a snake woman feels like!"

"She’ll beg before the end!"

"We’ll take turns with the snake bitch!"

"Cut her tail off and feed it to the monster after!"

The laughter turned to a grotesque chorus, filled with filth and cruelty.

The villagers’ faces darkened in fury. Mothers clutched their fists tighter, old men clenched their jaws, and the younger men tightened their grip on their tools.

They were fishermen, not fighters—but they weren’t cowards either.

They had fought storms, tides, and famine before, and now, they were ready to fight monsters wearing human faces.

Nala’s tail also uncoiled behind her, muscles tensing like a drawn bowstring. The villagers braced themselves. The mob raised their weapons.

It was about to explode into a full-blown war.

But then—

A voice cut through the chaos.

Soft. Calm. So casual that it almost didn’t belong in that scene.

"I know, Mr. Fish...I know."

Everyone froze.

The mob, the villagers, even Nala, every eye turned toward the direction of the voice.

"I know you feel sad...." The voice went on gently. "...and you’re crying because you lost your head. But don’t worry. I’ll find you a replacement soon."

It sounded like someone comforting a child, or, in this case, something much bizzare.

Then the voice brightened suddenly.

"Look, Mr. Fish! Over there!" It said cheerfully. "See that crowd? So many people! I’m sure one of them has the perfect replacement for your upper body!"

Every single head, mob and villager alike, turned in confusion.

And then they saw him.

Walking slowly down the dusty path toward the gate was a tall young man, his steps unhurried, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly under the cloudy sky.

Cassius.

He was smiling pleasantly, as if he were taking a morning stroll.

But the strangest thing wasn’t his demeanor.

It was what he was carrying.

In his hands, slung casually over his shoulder, was a giant fish—or rather, half of one.

It was enormous, almost as tall as him from head to mid-body—but the front half was completely gone. Torn clean off, leaving a jagged, meaty edge where the head should’ve been, leaving the tail and the bottom half.

And he was actually...talking to it.

The sight left everyone staring in stunned silence, villagers, thugs, even Marcus.

"What...the hell..." One of the men muttered.

But Cassius didn’t care for their reactions and smiled wider, brushing some scales from his sleeve as he approached.

"Don’t worry, Mr. Fish." He said softly, patting the tail of the enormous creature as if it were a pet. "We’ll find you a brand-new tail. I promise."

"...After all, there are so many candidates we can ’borrow’ a head and upper body from, we’ll surely find a match for you! "

The absurd calmness in his tone, the casual confidence in his walk, it was utterly baffling.

The mob exchanged uncertain glances, whispering among themselves.

Who was this guy?

Was he crazy?

Was he joking?

Or worse—was this calmness the prelude to something much more terrifying?