Isekai Terry TOD: Chapter 6 – To Battle… (Patreon)

Terry was once again filled an intense desire to just leave. This was more of that hero bullshit. It was straight out of a volume of some isekai manga. The wayward traveler from another world makes… Well, Terry hesitated to the call the farmer and his family friends. The wayward traveler inherits some mostly inoffensive companions, only to be confronted with some monster that requires him to dig deep and find his true heroic spirit. Which, Terry admitted, made perfect sense if your wayward traveler was a 17-year-old virtual shut-in who had been recently been rubbed up on by a busty farmgirl—or any girl—for the very first time ever. That would invoke the Power of Lust and blind the wayward traveler to the Harsh of Facts. Fact: fighting monsters in general, and especially monsters you knew nothing about, was stupid. Jumping into that kind of fight only made sense if the libido was calling the shots and getting enthusiastic backing from a teenage sense of indestructibility.

Terry was no Lothario, but he had been to college. An environment almost specifically designed to let even the most socially awkward people find someone that would sleep with them. That meant that he had been in the presence of naked women before. All hail the power of beer-driven decisions. There had even been a couple of disastrous, mutually-disappointing flings along the way. There was Mary, thought Terry. That could have worked. Maybe. If we’d both tried a little harder. Focus, Terry ordered himself. So, pleasant as it might be to have a pair of big boobs pressed up against him, it wasn’t enough to make him spring into heroic, self-destructive action. Of course, the first time Terry was up against this decision, it had been easy. They were strangers. Rule number two had applied. Now, they weren’t strangers. They had shared their campsite and even their food with him. It hadn’t been good food. God in heaven, Remdell was a terrible cook. But it had been what they had to offer, and they had shared it with him, someone who really was a stranger. Plus, Mira had done him the solid of beheading those bandit corpses. Something he was pretty sure he never would have worked up the nerve to do.

Fuck me. Did rule number two just get checkmated by the Power of Conscience? Terry examined his own feelings. Son of a bitch. Heaving a sigh, he walked up to the front of the cart. Harena was stone-faced, her arms wrapped protectively around Mira as the younger woman sobbed in terror. Tovan was curled up into to a tiny ball in the back of cart, his eyes as big as plates. Remdell was holding the reins with a white-knuckle grip, his eyes locked on the beast ahead. Terry looked from them to the monster. He honestly had no idea what it was supposed to be. It had a vaguely dragon-like body with two legs, but what looked like the head of a chicken. If it wasn’t so big, it’d just look ridiculous. Like something a child made up. If not for its leathery wings, he doubted the thing could have maintained its balance.

“What the hell is,” he took another hard look, “that thing?”

“It’s a cockatrice, you ignorant brute,” snapped Harena.

Terry turned what he hoped was potent glower on the girl. He decided that it must have been pretty good, because the girl had the decency to blush.

“What do you usually do in these situations?” asked Terry.

“Run? Hide?” asked Remdell.

From the questioning tone of his voice, it seemed pretty clear that the man had, against all odds and reason, never actually faced a similar situation before. How the hell had this guy reached middle age without ever once being confronted with a monster on the road? Terry had been traveling on this road for less than two days and already had it happen. Oh, or is the world doing to this to me, specifically? That one was probably a coin toss. There wasn’t enough data to be sure. The cockatrice let out a bellowing roar-crow noise that shook the whole area. Mira started screaming again, and even Harena had gone the color of freshly bleached sheets. This doesn’t make any sense, thought Terry. I’ve had enough time to have a short conversation over here and that thing hasn’t moved. If it’s rampaging beast, it’s not doing a very good job.

“Quiet!” shouted Terry.

Mira stopped screaming. The cockatrice stopped whatever the hell noise it was making. Everyone was looking at him. Terry took a couple of steps forward. The ox that was harnessed to the cart looked over at him, it’s expression one of placid acceptance. That’s a mystery for later, decided Terry. He glared at the enormous monster that had fixed him with its yellow bird eyes.

“Get out of the road,” said Terry, making a shooing gesture.

The cockatrice cocked its chicken head to one side.

“Yes. You! You big chicken-lizard monstrosity. Move!”

The monster kept standing there, not attacking, but not moving. Maybe it needs some encouragement, thought Terry. He reached down and picked up a loose rock that fit comfortably in his hand.

“Go on! Go!” shouted Terry.

He drew back his arm and, after a moment of consideration, and threw the stone at the creature as hard as he could. The rock shot away as if he’d fired it from a cannon. A split-second later, there was a noise like a small clap of thunder and an explosion of rock dust around the cockatrice’s head. The monster let out squawk-roar of surprise and pain, then turned and fled into the forest. I didn’t think that was actually going to work. Terry stared for a while in the direction the monster had gone, mostly to make sure it didn’t decide to circle back to try actually rampaging. The thing had left a huge swath of destruction in its wake. There were felled trees and huge limbs had been broken off at the trunk. If they have forest rangers here, someone’s going to be pissed about that. Not my problem, though, thought Terry as he turned back to the cart. He was immediately caught in Mira’s busty embrace.

“I can’t believe you made it run away!” she shouted in his ear while enthusiastically squeezing him.

I’m going to go deaf if she keeps yelling in my ear like that.

“You really are a hero!” she shouted.

Somehow, the mechanics of it completely eluding Terry, the girl managed to jump up and down without ever actually releasing him from the vice-like hug she’d caught him in. Terry sighed and patted the girl on the back. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Sure,” he said.

Harena didn’t share her sister’s enthusiasm for Terry’s exploits based on the way she had stared glaring at him again. What does it take to get on that girl’s good side? I saved them from bandits and scared away the chicken-lizard. Maybe setting the expectation bar a little too high there, sweetheart? Tovan finally peaked his head up from the back of the cart and looked around. When he saw that the monster was gone, he slumped back down in relief. Terry looked to Remdell, hoping that some dad authority would peel the girl off of him again. Apparently, he only got to play that card the one time. Remdell was slumped over, face in his hands. The guy looked like he was crying, or praying, or both maybe. Terry wasn’t sure why. The chicken-lizard, cocka-something had been big and loud, but it hadn’t actually attacked any of them. Then, it ran away. Now, I just need to figure out a way to run away from this human octopus.

“Mira,” said Terry.

“Yes,” she said, staring at him with sparkling eyes.

“I’m going to need my chest back. Kind of hard to walk without it.”

The girl pouted at him, but finally let go. Terry walked over to where he’d unconsciously dropped the sack of heads. He picked it up and, not putting his nose too close, he sniffed the air. He’d expected the bag to start stinking and attracting insects, but it hadn’t. Was the sack some kind of magic burlap? He almost opened it to see if the heads had started to decay, and then immediately discarded that obviously stupid plan. There was nothing in that sack that he wanted to see. Even the idea of it was enough to make his stomach start to do unpleasant things. He stood awkwardly by the cart thinking that he should say something comforting or supportive. Except, comforting and supportive wasn’t really his bag. He did the only thing he knew to do. He reached out and patted Remdell on the back. Once. Twice. Three times.