Chapter 25: The Giant Serpent

After Joan finished washing up, the sun had already risen above the treetops, and judging by the light, it was about seven or eight o’clock. Grey hefted the large tree he had snapped with a single blow yesterday and strode away from the cave. Joan lingered behind, hoping in vain that Grey would simply forget about him. Unfortunately, Grey had only taken a few steps before stopping, turning to wave at him and letting out a low growl, urging him to keep up.

Joan had no choice but to shoulder his pack and follow. Grey led the way, guiding Joan through vine-choked paths as they retraced their steps off the island. The road ahead was tough; unlike the towering Grey, Joan found it hard to trudge through the mire, and more than once he stumbled into bottomless mud pits. At first, Grey would turn back in time to haul him out, but after a while, perhaps growing impatient, he simply grabbed Joan and slung him over his shoulder.

Grey’s shoulders were broad and powerful, easily wide enough for two grown men to sit side by side. Adjusting his seat a little, Joan looped his left arm around Grey’s thick neck to avoid toppling off. Once Joan was settled, Grey broke into a full run, his stride long and sure. Seated on his shoulder, Joan felt as if he were riding a speeding carriage—surprisingly steady overall. The morning wind, heavy with the damp scent of grass and leaves, blew against his face, refreshing his spirit and lifting his mood from its earlier gloom.

Though Grey appeared to be running aimlessly through the marsh, Joan soon noticed that he would sometimes slow down to examine faint traces on the wetland, suggesting he was tracking prey in his own peculiar way.

They traveled this way for half an hour before Grey suddenly stopped. He set Joan down on a patch of drier ground, freeing his hands to grip the tree trunk. Cautiously, he approached a muddy pool and, with a sudden burst of strength, smashed the thick trunk down upon the mire. The blow sent mud flying, and a dying wail rose from the chaos.

Grey discarded the shattered trunk and plunged his long arm into the muck, feeling around for a few seconds before hauling out a massive crocodile. Holding it aloft by its tail, he gave it a shake; seeing it still twitching, he brought his left fist down hard on its pale jaw.

One blow, two, three! The muffled thuds were clear to Joan’s ears, making his scalp prickle. He thought, if Grey ever landed a punch on him, his skull would surely burst on the spot.

The unfortunate crocodile confirmed Joan’s fears. After three punches, Grey shook it again to make sure it was truly dead.

There was no doubt—the crocodile was lifeless. Broken teeth and blood spilled from its mouth, and murky greyish brain matter oozed from its nostrils and ears. Satisfied, Grey grinned widely, tossed the dead crocodile over his shoulder like a sack, and strode toward Joan.

“Grey!” Joan’s expression suddenly changed; he shouted, “Behind you!”

The grey giant turned, his six eyes scanning the area. He quickly spotted unusual ripples in the mire, as though a long canoe were gliding beneath the surface. As he bent down to investigate, a spray of thick mud caught him off guard, splattering his face and blinding him.

Grey roared in fury, cursing “Morg” as he tried to wipe the muck from his eyes. At that moment, a massive serpent’s head reared up from the swamp, its scarlet tongue flickering. Its body, covered in dusky blue scales, was more than a foot in diameter, and just the portion exposed above the water stretched fifteen feet.

Joan had never seen such a monstrous serpent; a cold sweat broke out for Grey. The giant snake slid rapidly through the mire, wrapping its lengthy body around Grey’s legs, trying to drag him into deeper water to drown him. Grey, still blinded by mud, sensed the constriction and roared in rage, dropping the dead crocodile to grapple with the python.

The serpent’s strength was immense—enough to crush the bones of a wild bull—but Grey’s was even greater. As his arms flexed, the muscles beneath his silvery-grey skin swelled, hard as stone and tough as steel cable, and he tore the snake from his body with brute force.

Realizing it couldn’t prevail through strength alone, the serpent reared back, baring its hooked fangs as it lunged for Grey’s throat.

From the moment the deadly struggle began, Joan had dashed toward them on instinct. Seeing the serpent about to strike, he wasted no time, forming the gestures for a spell and uttering a short, sharp incantation.

“Ringa!”

A beam of icy blue light shot from Joan’s fingertips, wreathed in chilling cold, striking the serpent’s flickering tongue just before it could bite. The slender, forked tongue—perhaps its most sensitive and delicate organ—was assaulted by the freezing ray, flooding the serpent with a pain and cold it had never known. It snapped its jaws shut, no longer daring to expose its vulnerable tongue.

Thanks to this, Grey escaped disaster. While the serpent was distracted, he wiped the mud from his face, his eyes bloodshot with rage, and wrenched the snake free from his body at last.

The python, realizing it had lost its chance to hunt the grey giant, wisely abandoned the struggle. It melted into the mire as smoothly as a ribbon of silk, vanishing before their eyes, leaving only ripples spreading across the water—a sign of its hasty retreat.

Grey had no intention of letting his enemy escape so easily. Beating his chest and cursing “Morg,” he charged off in pursuit.

Joan ran a few steps after him, but the gap in their size made it impossible to keep up. Watching Grey’s back recede, he called out, trying to calm him and persuade him not to chase the serpent further. But Grey, blinded by fury, ignored him and continued his pursuit.

Joan stopped in disappointment, bracing himself against a beech tree and gasping for breath. After a while, as his breathing steadied and his mind cleared, a sudden realization struck him:

“Why am I even running after Grey?”

“Isn’t this the perfect chance to slip away?”

Joan admitted that Grey had treated him kindly, but his friendship was so overbearing it had robbed him of his freedom. Joan bore no ill will toward this simple-minded giant, but given the choice between trudging through the mire with him or returning to his own life and home, he now longed for the latter far more.