Battle Pig

The big white pig in the pen was still shaken.

That morning, it had enjoyed a rare feast: all the cooked corn porridge it could eat, along with plenty of slop. It had eaten until its belly was full. But before it could rest, a huge net had suddenly dropped over it. Several people had tied it up so tightly it could not move, then hauled it along a bumpy road to this place reeking of blood.

And just moments ago, it had been thrown hard by someone filled with murderous intent.

It did not know why any of this had happened. The throw had not truly hurt its thick hide, but this unfamiliar environment and that terrifying burly man had made it sense an unprecedented danger.

The big pig cautiously huddled in the corner, trying to find some sense of security that way as it waited for the humans it knew to appear.

They were kind people who fed it. Perhaps they would soon realize it had gone missing and take it back to that safe home with endless food.

But it did not see any familiar faces. It only saw someone holding that bloody, vicious object walking toward it.

The big pig sensed danger and kept letting out threatening squeals, trying to scare the other party away. Yet from somewhere it could not see, a pair of somewhat familiar hands reached out, accompanied by a warm call. "Here, piggy, piggy, piggy."

That was the sound that meant it was time to eat.

The big pig was at a loss, but its desire for food overwhelmed its unease. It followed the sound forward.

Maybe it would soon see someone familiar.

But it found neither familiar people nor food, only a vicious stab that seemed intent on taking its life.

Blood spilled out, and the terror of death overwhelmed everything else. The big pig squealed in pain again, then used all its strength to lunge forward and leap away from where it had been wounded. Its tiny eyes, filled with fear, looked toward the young man in the same enclosure before it retreated into the corner and squealed with all its might, trying to call for the familiar person who had just summoned it.

Du Pont had no idea what it was thinking. He was simply startled to see the big pig still able to run with a knife stuck in its body, and he could not help taking a step back.

"Damn, it's still not dead?"

He had just called over a farmer to distract the pig. When it ignored him, he had followed Butcher's instructions, moved to the fat pig's side, and tried to stab the dagger into its heart.

But perhaps the pig was simply too fat, or perhaps the difference in height had prevented him from putting enough force behind the blow. Du Pont's attack had probably only gone six or seven centimeters deep. It left the pig with a frightening-looking wound, but it had not even cut a major artery. The sharp dagger was still lodged in its body.

Judy had been watching from the side, and he immediately burst out laughing at the sight. "Du Pont, kid, you really can't manage this, can you? You lost your weapon trying to kill a pig. If word gets out, people will laugh their teeth out. If those nosy reporters find out, it'll definitely make the front page tomorrow."

Barbarian also laughed loudly. "I've already thought of the headline: 'Northwest Academy Apprentice Faces Off Against a Giant Fat Pig With a Magical Weapon, Fails Despite Giving It His All—The Younger Generation's Incompetence Gives Us Much to Reflect On.'"

"What nonsense are you talking about? I call that compassion. You wouldn't understand even if I explained it to you." Du Pont did not dare turn around. His face reddened as he shouted back, while his eyes remained locked on the fat pig.

If he actually got bitten by this pig and had to go to the infirmary, that would be beyond humiliating.

Fortunately, his worst fear did not come true. Even though it had been stabbed, the pig showed no intention of attacking. It merely ran to a corner and grunted nervously, as if warning him not to come closer.

Without a weapon in hand, it would be nearly impossible for Du Pont to kill the pig barehanded. But borrowing another weapon would be too embarrassing, so he could only think of another way.

He could use Light Spell again, but that would more or less prove that he had no other tricks left. He did not want to do that unless he had no choice.

The pig kept squealing, but it showed no sign of attacking. It was afraid of him.

With that thought, a plan formed in Du Pont's mind. He first paced around three meters in front of the big pig. As it watched him nervously, he suddenly leaped forward, spread his arms, and let out a booming roar.

"Die!!!"

The big pig was already afraid. That sudden roar scared it out of its wits. It scrambled away from the strange man with all four hooves, fleeing with all its strength, and found an unobstructed path beside the man's legs.

What it did not know was that as it moved and tensed its entire body, the dagger lodged behind its left leg was forced out by its muscles. A large amount of blood slowly poured from the two-centimeter-wide wound.

Butcher looked disappointed when he saw this and shook his head.

The outcome had been decided.

The pig was simply too timid. Even when injured, its first choice had been to flee for its life, returning the weapon that posed the greatest threat to it.

Now, even if Du Pont did nothing, the pig would bleed to death.

Still, that was normal. It was only a domestic pig and had no experience surviving in the wild. Even with a certain degree of intelligence, it would never have imagined that humans would harm it. On top of that, being castrated had greatly reduced its ferocity, so there would be no exciting show after all.

"All right, come over. It'll die soon enough." Butcher called out, but Du Pont shook his head and approached with the dagger in hand.

This time, his movements were much bolder.

Although the domestic pig still let out threatening grunts, Du Pont ignored them. He quickly took several steps forward, reached the earlier wound, raised his arm at a slightly different angle, and stabbed again.

The entire blade sank in. The big pig let out an earthshaking scream, but Du Pont was not scared away this time. His hand gripped the hilt tightly as he yanked out the dagger, and a fountain of blood sprayed from the wound, shooting more than two meters before splattering onto the ground.

The big pig fled again in pain, but it no longer had endless strength. After only a few steps, its front legs gave way and it dropped to its knees. It stared in terror at the human who had once again come before it.

But Du Pont did not strike again. He only looked at the big pig and sighed. "There's a saying in my hometown: 'Treat you like a pig being slaughtered.' I know it's an insult, but I never really understood what it meant. Now I finally do."

"Yeah. It clearly has decent strength and a strong body, but because it is cowardly, it does not even dare fight back. It's pathetic, but what can you do? It's a pig." Butcher gave an evil grin. "Actually, this kind of thing is not rare. Some novice adventurers set out full of heroic ambition, but once the fighting truly begins, they find reality is nothing like they imagined. Some become cowardly, throw down their weapons, kneel, and beg monsters for mercy. Unfortunately, very few survive. Most of them end up much like this pig."

"What about you Barbarians?" Du Pont shook his head and asked, "I don't believe every member of your tribes is a warrior who fights to the death."

"Of course not. The Northlands have only so many resources. Every few years, tribes go to war. The winners take everything and kill those who resist, while the remaining weaklings join the other tribe and change their names. That is the law of survival in the Northlands." Butcher shrugged, looking unconcerned. "The tribal elders call it survival wisdom. They say it is how Barbarians have lived for thousands of years. I only think it's stupid, so I left and became a free adventurer."

As the two spoke, the pig breathed its last, and a line of text appeared before Du Pont.

You killed a domestic pig and gained 12 Experience Points.

He had gained only 22 Experience Points in total, which disappointed Du Pont.

It seemed a single class at the academy giving twenty-four to thirty Experience Points was actually quite generous. Ordinary livestock provided pitifully little Experience Points, though the advantage was that they did not fight back.

"All right, stop standing there thinking nonsense like some woman." Butcher then shouted at the farmers. "You brats, stop slacking off over there! Get over here and work!"