Chapter 136: Ren Got Tortured (1)
The tendrils came back with what looked like an old backpack at last. It looked like it might have been left behind by some alpha way back. Covered in layers of dust and grime, it was a surprise to find the food inside was still good. Several cans of food in there looked like they could still be eaten. The tendrils proudly displayed these cans to Ren.
Seeing Ren’s agreement, the tendrils seemed puzzled. It was strange for them to see that such a sweet-looking alpha would want food that had such a plain smell.
In the tendrils’ opinion, the food wasn’t the best. It was cold, a bit old, and full of stuff that wasn’t natural. It wasn’t nearly as healthy as eating fresh rats or bugs.
A campfire was alive and crackling, brightening up the inside of the den. The place was massive. Everywhere Ren looked, there were dark tunnels and paths, each one leading into some deep and hidden place.
There were pipes running along the ceiling and walls, and big, heavy metal things. It was hard to guess what the place was for in the past.
But, something cool? The water system still worked. Ren noticed a big water container close by, with a faucet over it. There was a broken water pipe somewhere, making a drip-drip sound. That was where the sound was coming from.
The tendrils, holding the cans, swished over to the water and rinsed their tips. They wiggled on a big towel to get dry. They even gave the can a quick rinse.
Ren realized that even if Kestrel had forgotten things, some of her habits were still there, like making sure her "hands" were clean and being sweet to Ren.
The tendrils popped open the can, gently held Ren’s chin, and were about to give him a mouthful of the meat sauce.
"I got this," Ren spoke up, "But... thanks."
He wasn’t so thrilled about having Kestrel’s tendrils feed him, especially with her watching without any emotion. It made him feel super awkward.
Lucky for him, it was just the two of them. Without others, things felt a little more personal and less blush-worthy.
After a moment of thought, the tendrils set the opened can right in front of him on the ground. freewёbnoνel.com
Ren tried to pick up the can in the dancing light from the campfire. His fingers were sticky from dried blood, and there was a nasty cut on his palm slashed by his sword. The injury looked really bad, with ripped flesh and all.
When he touched the cold can, everything went dark for Ren, and he almost dropped it.
Super quick, the tendrils grabbed the can, keeping it from tipping. All of them crowded around, looking forward to seeing this cute, fragile guy eat.
Ren seemed so breakable, like he needed someone to take care of him. This made him super lovable in the tendrils’ eyes. They were excited to see how he would handle his meal.
Ren held the can steadily, even though his fingers slightly shook.
Once, he was a soldier with a gun in his hand. Now, he found it tough just to grasp a small can. He had imagined himself lasting longer, fighting fiercely until he found Kestrel and got her home.
He now saw clearly that if Kestrel hadn’t been there, if her tendrils hadn’t shielded him in the den, he probably would’ve been done for, caught by the terrifying mutants outside.
Picking up a metal spoon, Ren scooped some meat sauce from the can and tasted it. After being on so many meds, he barely felt hungry anymore. But he chewed and swallowed, forcing himself to eat.
He had to get his strength back. He needed to understand what had happened to Kestrel and how to bring her back to her old self.
But the big question was: how could he get Kestrel’s memories back?
Pushing that thought away for now, Ren took another big spoonful of food, forcing himself to eat it.
The tendrils seemed to enjoy watching Ren eat. Every now and then, he’d rest and snuggle up against a tendril, drifting off into sleep surrounded by them.
He felt soft, and his smell was enchanting. Even in sleep, his grip on the tendril never loosened. The tendrils playfully quarreled about who got to be closest to him, their movements hidden from Ren.
When Ren woke up, he seemed a bit more energetic. He moved closer to the fire, pulled out a foldable pot from the backpack, and prepared some hot soup. He sipped it slowly, looking so endearing.
He even offered some to Kestrel, but she just shook her head.
Next, Ren fetched a small sugar packet from the backpack. He melted it in the pot until it turned a light yellow and poured it into a bottle cap to harden. Using a tiny stick, he carefully flipped out the round, hardened sugar.
His hands moved with skill. By the firelight, there was a calm mood about him. Everything he did looked so captivating, and both the tendrils and Kestrel were drawn to watch.
Finally, Ren presented the clear, golden candy to Kestrel on a small stick.
"For me?" Kestrel asked, looking at the candy. "You know, I’m different. I don’t eat like you do."
Kestrel declined with words but her curiosity won over. Her fair fingers played with the candy, intrigued by its transparent, amber shine and inviting smell.
She hesitated, then gave it a quick taste. Her eyes gleamed in surprise before she popped the candy fully into her mouth.
Ren let out a soft laugh.
"What’s so funny? Not planning on taking it back now, are you?" Kestrel teased mentally.
"Have you eaten at all in the last few days?" Ren asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"Eaten? I never eat. Not since... well, since I came into being," Kestrel replied, the candy stick moving as she spoke.
"How long has that been?" Ren wondered, his gaze focused on the flickering fire.
Kestrel pondered. "Not too long. Maybe just those few days you mentioned?" Time wasn’t a concept she was familiar with. Everything felt new, recent.
Feeling Ren’s probing yet caring energy, she continued, savoring her candy. She spoke of her being—the deity of this vast underground realm. Her memories spanned only a few days; everything before was lost in shadows.
She ruled over all creatures of the underground city, consuming only the souls offered to her in sacrifice. She didn’t need to eat. But in truth, she’d heard these facts from Taja. As a newly born deity, she had never actually tasted any offerings, and she didn’t seem genuinely interested in the idea of consuming souls.
She laid it out for Ren, marking her territory, "Everything here is mine. That includes you. You can’t escape this world."
"I have no plans to," Ren replied, warmth reflected in his eyes, "I won’t leave you."
Kestrel smirked, "Such a loyal human." She missed the nuance in his statement—the promise of staying with her, not just in the place.
After two days indoors, Kestrel yearned to explore but was hesitant about leaving Ren unattended.
She found old chains, said to restrain even the mightiest of beings. Attached was a metal collar, its inside lined with thin, sharp needles. Once fastened, no creature could break free.
Kestrel knelt beside Ren, holding the collar to his neck, gauging its fit. Ren remained still, eyes lowered, surrender evident in his posture. He seemed to trust her, even in this.
"Is it really necessary to lock him up? He’s been so well-behaved," Kestrel thought out loud.
"You can’t just leave," she warned Ren.
"I promise, I won’t," he assured her.
"And don’t wander too much. There are places you should steer clear of," she added.
Ren gently nodded, letting out a quiet hum, signaling he understood.
She couldn’t pick up on any deceptive feelings from him, so she felt reassured.
"Just stay here and rest. I’ll be back with more food," Kestrel told him.
True to his word, Ren didn’t move from Kestrel’s hideout. When she returned the first time, she found that he had tidied up the place. The floor was clean, and the tangled tubes on the walls had been organized. This made it easier for the tendrils to move without getting scratched.
She started feeling a certain fondness for him. She gave him various items she had collected — from tools and food remnants left by humans to random objects she thought were interesting, even though she didn’t really get their purpose.
Ren seemed happy with some of the things, but a few made his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. "This isn’t really for me. Maybe don’t bring such stuff next time."