Charlemagne froze, staring at the message from his Patron.

  The prohibition confused him. He was a simple bird, with simple instincts. In fact, the idea of getting revenge against something that had stolen from him in the past was still a fairly advanced concept for the young rooster. Why would Grimfalk tell him not to hunt something that was rightfully prey? Why would he rob Charlemagne of his vengeance?

  These were thorny philosophical questions that the rooster was ill-equipped to answer. Nonetheless, Charlemagne did his best, delving into his recent memories to find a framework that made sense to him. Images began to flash in his mind as he looked for a time where he had forsaken his own appetites to obtain something greater. He remembered pieces of snakes lying everywhere, a desperate hunger driving him to consume them. Then he recalled his fruitless search in the air above the parks and the battle against the crocodile. Further back were the fonder memories of dalliances with his hens, counterbalanced by the somber discovery of Francois’ body lying on the grass.

  Francois, the giver of bread.

  Understanding blossomed in Charlemagne’s simple mind. The concept of time being already pretty fuzzy for the rooster, he would not have classified the concept he was in the process of understanding “delayed gratification”. Instead, he thought about it in more simple terms.

  “If I ate Francois right away, I wouldn’t be able to eat the delicious bread Francois made.

  In that vein, Charlemagne decided that if his Patron had ordered him not to kill and eat the pangolin, that surely meant that there was a greater prize to be had by not killing and eating the pangolin. The rooster wondered what it could be. Maybe the pangolin had an item like Francois’ that made food, or maybe Grimfalk knew that the only way to get the information he wanted about the animal city was to leave the other creature unharmed.

  Charlemagne never considered the possibility that the benefit would go to someone else.

  As the rooster stood there, still using all his available brain power to divine the motivation of his Patron, the wind shifted. A breeze blew through the forest, bringing a temporary respite from the ever present and ever oppressive heat and humidity. The scent that Charlemagne was after was carried on that breeze. The rooster shot off at full tilt, sensing that his target was close.

  As he ran, Charlemagne reminded himself over and over that he was not to attack the pangolin. He was only going to talk to it. Then his Special Ability, Food for the Stomach and the Stomach for Food, kicked in, allowing him to pinpoint the location of his prey. It was just up ahead. As the devolved rooster approached the stationary pangolin, more light started to stream through the dense forest canopy as the forest started to thin. There was a clearing up ahead, and the rooster’s sharp eyes spotted a large number of brown mounds rising high into the air. All his senses told him that he would find his answers just ahead.

  Slowing down as he broke out of the tree line, the young rooster took a moment to evaluate the situation. The brown mounds were almost like small hills, but they were too steep to be natural. Something had made them. Whatever it was, this was probably where it lived, since Charlemagne could smell its scent all over the clearing.

  Charlemagne was still trying to figure out what was going on when the earth beneath him began to rumble. He hopped back a few times, looking like an enormous robin moving in reverse as he sought more stable footing. A plume of dirt rose high into the air as something exploded upwards out of the mounds. It was the pangolin. And it was being chased.

  The strange-looking scaled creature had rolled up into a ball and had launched itself high into the air. But hot on its heels were a horde of angry creatures that looked like ants. They had a few key differences from the ants that Charlemagne knew, however. First of all, the body shape was different. Instead of a shapely hourglass figure that clearly denoted the head, thorax, and abdomen, these creatures appeared to only have a head and a body. The other difference was a bit more profound. Instead of being so tiny they weren’t even snacks for the pre-squiggles Charlemagne, these creatures were about the size of his head. And they looked delicious.

  Evidently, the pangolin was of the same opinion, as it uncurled and began to chow down on an insect it had captured in its claws while it was still in midair. The rooster watched, dimly aware that he should probably be concerned, as the scaly creature reached the peak of its jump and began to fall back towards earth, headed right toward the middle of the swarm of outraged insects. Then the realization dawned on him that he definitely should be concerned, since he would lose out on something good if the pangolin died.

  Forgetting that he had the Identify skill, Charlemagne took a short moment to size up the numerous yet smaller opponents that stood between him and his prize. Their bodies appeared sturdy but not particularly well-armored. The real question was if their jaws would be able to penetrate his Ironskin-enhanced natural defenses. But what he saw didn’t particularly worry him because he thought that even if they could, he would receive only shallow wounds due to the way their jaws hinged. Feeling confident, the young rooster surged forth to defend the very creature that he wanted to eat the most.

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  The first few Strikes took out several of the insects at once as Charlemagne caught the creatures unprepared. He avoided using his beak in favor of keeping up his momentum, breaking through the crowd with his sharp talons before doubling back for a second run. The insects reacted mindlessly, closing the gaps in their ranks and continuing to menace the now rapidly falling pangolin. A few broke off to attack the newest threat, but these were almost instantly trampled by Charlemagne as he waded through the mass of enemies a second time.

  Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be time for a third pass, or the devolved rooster would have been able to continue the tactic indefinitely. But the pangolin was landing, and so Charlemagne came to a stop and began to thin the numbers of the mouth-wateringly crunchy insects, his beak flashing forward several times in under a second to punch through the exoskeletons of his opponents.

  Then the pangolin approached the ground and pandemonium ensued.

  As one, the insects unhinged their mandibles and began to spray a yellow liquid that made the air sting Charlemagne’s nostrils. Some of it splashed on him, causing his feathers to smoke and hiss as the yellow substance began to break down their proteins in an exothermic reaction. The rooster, having never taken a chemistry class, merely noted that the liquid was causing his feathers to melt away. He flapped his wings, which fortunately sent the droplets flying before they could reach his skin

  The scaly creature’s reaction was completely different to being sprayed by the highly volatile substance. It simply ignored the dozens of creatures assaulting it, except for one, which it grabbed in both of its front claws before pushing off the ground with its back feet. Like a shot, the pangolin flew off into the forest again, leaving both Charlemagne and the insects behind.

  Using his wings for a bit of additional speed, the devolved rooster bawked in anger and sprinted after the scaly missile. He was almost as fast as the pangolin was on land, but he had one significant advantage: he didn’t have to completely change direction every time he hit a tree trunk. Feeling that he could eventually catch up, Charlemagne rocketed after the pangolin, once again receiving random snake bites from time to time. A particularly unlucky snake bit him right next to his beak and swiftly found out that Charlemagne bit back.

  The chase took the pair all throughout the forest, until another influx of sunlight announced that they had reached the end of the trees. As usual, there was no announcement that they had left the N’dali Nature Preserve, but that didn’t matter. Charlemagne could immediately tell due to the way the air immediately changed.

  As the pangolin accelerated in the open air, Charlemagne flapped his powerful wings, taking to the skies. He pushed his Mana Core to its utmost limit, allowing him to close the gap and fly directly next to the curled up creature.

  “Bawk!” he shouted, struggling to make himself heard over the sound of air rushing past.

  There was no response.

  “Bawwak!” he added, hoping that the pangolin would understand and slow down a bit.

  The other creature didn’t slow down, but it did uncurl the tiniest bit. Charlemagne saw the glint of a beady black eye staring at him, and his Monocle of Refinement noted that it was one of the creature’s weak points.

  “Bawwk,” he added encouragingly.

  “You just want to talk? Really? And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

  “Bawk,” Charlemagne confirmed.

  “Well, as long as you do not make any suddenly aggressive moves, I am inclined to a temporary truce. Honestly, I was certain that I was going to have to fight you, and you seem like you would be a hassle to put down. Three-dimension movement capabilities, at least one defensive skill and offensive skill, I’m guessing some sort of evolution-based ability, and you weren’t affected by that snakebite at all. My, what a monster your Patron has cooked up.”

  “Bawwak!” the rooster agreed.

  “Well, I’m flattered that you want to eat me. I probably would taste amazing, but I am afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that. You see, I much prefer to remain alive, and I’m sure you would as well. Perhaps you are the world’s most intelligent rooster on top of being its strongest. But speaking of food, I am somewhat upset that you interrupted my dinner. Those termites are my favorite food, although you couldn’t have known that. Now that I think of it, you were trying to rescue me from them, weren’t you? Whatever you want to talk about must be rather important to you, hmm?”

  The pangolin uncurled a bit more and licked a tiny bit of termite goop from its snout, seeming to believe Charlemagne’s assurances that he was not looking for a fight.

  “Bawk,” the Champion rooster explained. “Bawwk, bawkk, baaawk.”

  “A city where animals rule and humans are not allowed? I am afraid I don’t know where that might be.”

  Charlemagne almost lost patience with the conversation then and there, and a murderous gleam flashed in his eyes. His Mana Core, which had been beating steadily, ramped up in anticipation, pumping energy throughout his body.

  “I don’t know where the city is,” the pangolin admitted, its eyes growing wide as it sensed the rooster’s anger boiling over. “But the traitorous gorilla, whatever was his name. Bartholomew…no, that wasn’t it. Oh yes, Benedict. He said that his team was supposed to meet up in a farm on the outskirts of a town far in the north. What was the name of that town? I was there not too long ago…ah, right. Karimama. It’s right along a river and it’s really easy to find. Are you ready for the directions?”

  “Bawk,” Charlemagne confirmed, having nothing but his memory to use and hoping that the instructions were better than the ones that he had gotten from Francois.

  “All right. Just outside this forest is a big road. You need to go to the road and head to the left, which will take you north. Follow the big road until you reach the city of Malanville. You’ll know that you’ve got the right city if you see a large river just to the north with a bridge connecting the two sides. Once you get to that river, head west until you spot a small town just on the banks of the river. You’ll know you’re about to arrive when the river splits in two. Look on the left bank for the town just after the fork.”

  “Baawwwk,” Charlemagne answered, relieved that the directions were specific and easy to understand.

  “Well, if you’re that thankful, you could always help me catch more of those delicious termites.”

  “Bawk.”

  “Oh, you’re already letting me live in exchange for the information, huh? Well, I guess that works too. I hate fighting on an empty stomach. As soon as I’m satisfied you’re not going to attack me, I’m going to find more dinner.”

  Charlemagne, exulting in the unfailing wisdom of his Patron, flew away content, digesting the lesson that he had learned, instead of his opponent’s flesh.