Our Family Has Fallen

After a brief cleanup of the area, Lance lifted his torch and moved forward, re-entering the cave they had just exited.

The place had been dug out, its original features and layout almost completely obliterated by the extensive damage. The space was vast; no wonder it could accommodate so many Pigmen. Amanda’s recent tactic had indeed been brilliant; most of the Pigmen had surged into the passage, directly facing the light source, which allowed the flash to envelop them all. Otherwise, with the light scattering in such an excavated cave, its effect wouldn’t have been nearly as potent.

Lance initially raised his torch, intending to get a clear view of the ceiling. However, after taking a few steps inside, he seemed to discover something and lowered the torch.

The ground was firm and dry. Based on past experience, in a filthy Beast Lair, such conditions were typically found in only two types of locations. One was a ritual site, and the other was where the Pigmen ate their meals.

Pigmen value cleanliness, such refined little piggies, eh?

”Boss, look! What’s this thing?”

Boudica, walking at the front, had found something. Since there was no need to maintain formation at this point, Lance went straight over, using the torchlight to see what it was.

It was a crudely assembled wooden cart. Inside, various remains were jumbled together; one could vaguely make out parts of human tissue, while other remains were difficult to identify. These items were piled onto the cart, resembling a disgusting feeding trough, with trickles of blood still seeping and dripping from the cracks.

But something feels a bit off, doesn’t it?

Suddenly, as if realizing something, Lance pulled off his disease-resistant mask. Only then did he confirm his suspicion.

”No wonder I couldn’t smell any stench of rot.”

He had found the missing piece: the reason his nose hadn’t reacted to what should have been a powerfully bloody and foul stench.

I’ve been in here too long; my sense of smell seems to have become desensitized.

His words startled the others, who seemed to realize it only then as well.

”Huh! I really can’t smell anything either!” Boudica exclaimed, removing her mask and tentatively flaring her nostrils.

Her sense of smell was usually very keen, especially her sensitivity to the scent of blood—an ability that allowed her to confidently track prey in the Mountains. But now, it seemed useless.

”Boss, what’s going on?” Boudica subconsciously raised a hand to her nose, a hint of unease in her expression. The memory of being poisoned in the wilderness and going blind for a period was still vivid.

”It’s nothing serious, just the body adapting to the environment. You’ll be fine once we get out,” Lance said. He had only meant it as a casual remark and hadn’t expected Boudica to react so strongly.

”Huh? Why do I smell alcohol?” Boudica hadn’t smelled blood, but she now detected another, familiar scent. She even wondered if she was hallucinating due to alcohol withdrawal.

”You’re not wrong.”

Lance, also seeming to have discovered something, moved the torch to one side. The torchlight revealed something else that was utterly out of place in the Beast Lair.

It was a common oak barrel resting horizontally on a wooden rack. Judging by its ancient appearance, it was impossible to tell how many years old it was. It was covered in grime, and adorned with grotesque skulls and strips of hide.

”There really is alcohol?” Boudica immediately shed her earlier unease and approached, a curious look on her face.

”Even if there is, you can’t drink it.” Lance, knowing exactly what she was thinking, lightly tapped her on the head as she leaned in.

”OW!” Boudica yelped, snatching her head back and rubbing it with an innocent look. ”Why’d you hit me, Boss?”

”Oh, come on, I barely touched you,” Lance said, half-laughing, half-scolding. ”You’d actually dare to drink wine brewed by Pigmen? Do you have any idea what ingredients they use? Aren’t you afraid of getting sick? Wasn’t the last lesson enough for you? That’s not being brave; that’s being suicidal!”

Hearing his reprimand, Boudica could only offer a sheepish grin. Seeing her expression, Lance couldn’t help but shake his head in exasperation.

”Stop grinning like that. If you want to drink, I’ll let you have your fill when we get back. But for now, stay focused.”

”Got it, Boss! I’ll listen to you,” Boudica immediately beamed, her expression showing she was anything but foolish.

Amanda felt a pang in her heart as she watched this exchange, feeling even a little envious. Neither her teachers, the Elders, nor the people from her organization had ever shared such an easygoing relationship with her. More importantly, the unconditional trust they shared made her deeply envious.

Why couldn’t it be me?

No one seemed to notice what she was thinking; the others remained focused on the Pigmen’s creations around them.

Soon, they discovered a nearby table constructed from stacked stones, with remnants of food still visible on its surface.

”Hmm... We’ve seen something like this before. This must be where the Pigmen eat. That’s the food cart, and over there should be the alcohol brewed by the Pigmen,” Lance briefly explained his deductions. ”There are a few interesting points here. Both the wheeled food cart and this stacked-stone table suggest that these Pigmen might have a more developed social structure than we initially thought. Moreover, they’ve learned to use tools, likely mimicking humans.

”Additionally, many details in the wear patterns indicate a clear hierarchy. For example, the height of this tabletop suggests that only Pigmen of normal stature can sit at it; deformed or crippled Pigmen wouldn’t be permitted.”

Lance gestured to indicate the table’s height, then lowered the torch to illuminate some marks on the ground, continuing his explanation.