Chapter 64: Three True Names of Animals

[Dungeon Selected — The Mad Gnome's Alchemical Circus]
[Current Difficulty: Normal]

Inside the amusement park, at this difficulty level, apart from the two white wolves, a green parrot had been added. Its chest and wings had been modified; flapping its wings allowed it to dart about swiftly, while opening its beak enabled it to emit complex and beautiful melodies like a music player, though, of course, it could also produce piercing noises.

The green parrot and the twin wolves acted simultaneously, with the wolves taking the offensive while the parrot provided interference. Its positioning was similar to the Maw-Throat servants of the Sea-Spirit Altar; within the kill zone of its sharp sonic waves, it would inflict a certain amount of sonic damage on players while carrying a high probability of applying short-term negative statuses, including confusion, stiffness, and deafness.

The difference was that the Maw-Throat servants moved slowly and had a larger kill zone, whereas the alchemical parrot, despite having a smaller kill zone, was agile and not easily dealt with.

Unless one was a sharpshooter, it was extremely difficult to kill such a small, high-speed moving target through ranged means. The strategy guide recommended adopting a marathon tactic, widening the distance between the parrot and the white wolves, and seizing the right moment to kill the bird in one strike when it approached to shriek.

Upon seeing the green bird's majestic prosthetic limbs, the little king danced a tap dance excitedly on Limbo's shoulder.

"Good human, I want wings that sparkle!"
"*(Magical Language)* There will be a chance," Limbo placated it.

The alchemical parrot stood atop the fortune-telling stall's tent, unleashing its voice through the music player embedded in its chest, sending soaring sopranos and classical melodies drifting across the corpse-strewn amusement park.

The instrumental music felt like hazy, thick clouds, causing listeners to lose their way within them, while the female vocal performance was a gust of wind and a pillar of light splitting the clouds and mists, compelling the listener to subconsciously follow the singing and climb upward until their soul reached the boundless, open firmament, enjoying unfettered freedom.

Limbo paused to listen.

The little king muttered with intense jealousy, "Watch me defeat it; the sky belongs to seagulls!"
"*(Magical Language)* Don't go; you can't beat it."

Unlike players who could resurrect upon dying in a dungeon, subordinate units like the little gull meant true death if they perished. Limbo suppressed the little fellow's surging combat desires.

The green parrot spotted the player entering the amusement park. The music stopped abruptly, and the soaring soprano transformed into the piercing ghost-wails of a grievance-filled woman.

Watching the ghost-wailing alchemical parrot dash toward him, Limbo pointed at it from afar and commanded, "*(True Word)* Silence!"

The alchemical parrot's frail will could not resist the True-Name Mage's spell-command power. Its wide-open beak snapped shut instantly, and the piercing shriek vanished along with it.

With a flick of his finger, Limbo sent iron pellets piercing through the skulls of the two charging alchemical white wolves like leaping stars, causing them to stumble, roll on the ground, and drop dead instantly.

Then, turning his gaze to the alchemical parrot, he commanded once more, "*(True Word)* Down!"

The green parrot folded its wings tightly against its sides, its body describing a parabolic arc like a lump of stone as it plummeted right in front of the mage, rolling clumsily on the ground with a thud.

Limbo grabbed an iron pellet, twisted it into a fine chain, and tied the parrot up securely. He made sure to bind its beak with special tightness; he had no intention of using auditory perception to discover its true name—letting this parrot howl right in front of him would be enough to shatter his eardrums.

The tongue's sense of taste was unsuitable for perceiving an animal's true name; surface touch and internal introspection were the only way.

The alchemical parrot was already diminutive, and its body had undergone a degree of modification that far exceeded the white wolves. Its native internal organs were squeezed into the corners, clinging to life solely by the vitality provided by alchemical potions.

Especially its slender, tiny lungs, which were crushed beneath the massive metal music player; its breathing relied entirely on a turbine motor driving air in and out.

These tiny, unremarkable, bean-sized lungs still heaved incessantly, attempting to vibrate vocal cords that had long since been excised, though the former windpipe now smelled only of machine oil and copper rust.

Through surface touch and internal introspection, he perceived those feebly pulsating lungs and listened to the language suppressed deep within them.

Unlike the white wolves, which constantly cried out "It hurts," the parrot's brain was too small, and the pain exceeded its comprehension. Thus, it did not cry out in pain; it merely murmured, "Master is the most beautiful, sings the best..."

When the brass music player roared, playing the throat-tones of a female elven vocalist from years past that had once shaken cities and nations, the parrot's frail lungs echoed in response.

Beneath the magnificent red carpet of the touring show, the petite female elf always had a small parrot perched atop her head. Aside from the violin, piano, trombone, horn, and clarinet, it was yet another wonderful accompanying instrument.

The music bursting from the chests of the female elf and the parrot brought hundreds of thousands of listeners in the concert halls and plazas to their feet, clapping until their palms burned red. Limbo lingered within this distant memory, sitting in the audience of the resplendent concert hall, listening like a ghost.

A moment later, he opened his eyes and acquired the second animal true-name rune.

Then, he snapped the alchemical parrot's neck, granting it release.

"*(Magical Language)* May you sleep sweetly in your dreams amidst the elven songs."

[Dungeon Selected — The Mad Gnome's Alchemical Circus]
[Current Difficulty: Hard]

The amusement park's slaughter maniacs had increased once more.

This time, it was a robust red baboon riding a magnificent warhorse. The baboon and the warhorse were good friends—another popular duo in the circus. They lived together and performed together.

The baboon often stood upon the back of the galloping warhorse, tossing eight colorful rubber balls with its four brass arms, while the warhorse's six legs ran as steadily as the surface of a lake, without the slightest jolt.

Whenever they approached the audience seats, they could always reap waves of cheers.

This kind of performance made the baboon very sad, because its good friend the warhorse did not like running in circles around the circus's circular arena. Constantly repeating the same route within a finite space left the warhorse deeply frustrated and showing symptoms of depression—though, of course, it might also have been because the brass prosthetic limbs inside its body hurt so terribly.

Now, outside the circus tent, they were enjoying a truly wonderful open space, breathing in the fresh outdoor air, with a feeling of home.

The baboon grasped four weapons with its four arms—a spear, a knife, a rapier, and a pistol—riding astride the back of the warhorse, which possessed six metallic legs. Their charge was as unstoppable as a roaring chariot.

Having disposed of the twin wolves and the parrot, Limbo intercepted the path of the baboon and the warhorse.

"Warhorse! Warhorse!" the baboon cried out, firing a shot into the sky.
"Baboon! Baboon!" the warhorse neighed, galloping toward the invading player.

"*(True Word)* Iron." Limbo turned the knife in the baboon's hand into a rope that wound around its neck, hoisting it high into the air, and threw out a handful of iron pellets that transformed into a snare in the warhorse's path, binding its six legs.

The baboon still tried to struggle, using its flexible and powerful mechanical fingers to snap the iron ring around its neck, but more iron chains flew through the air, binding it like a zongzi.

Limbo sat cross-legged beside them, probing their true names one by one, holding one in each hand.

He listened to bodies and minds battered and tormented by mechanical violence, transforming into a ghost sitting in the audience of the circus within his memories. As the baboon and warhorse duo ran past the edge of the arena, Limbo gently applauded along with countless other spectators.

The baboon came from the mountains and forests, while the warhorse came from the grasslands. Coming from opposite ends of the world, they should never have met, yet they had made a pact that once they escaped the circus, they would find a place with both forests and grasslands and continue being good friends for the rest of their lives.

Limbo opened his eyes, flicked an iron pellet to pierce their skulls, and whispered softly before the corpses, "*(Magical Language)* May your shouts and neighs echo each other in the forests and grasslands."

[Dungeon clearance conditions met...]

The circus's three daily challenge attempts had been exhausted. Limbo shoved the alchemical beast corpses toward the [Scavenging] pile, and then ran through the three challenge attempts of the mechanical factory.

He felt somewhat fatigued, but what made him happier was that he had finally finished working and could afford to idle and read books.

He removed his mask, stripped away his iron shell, bathed in hot water for a moment to relax his stiff body, and then returned to his desk to sit down cozily.

Iron Guard One walked up the spiral staircase, carrying a steaming cup of coffee.

"*(Magical Language)* How thoughtful," Limbo praised the increasingly sensible robot.

He chanted his true name in a low voice, "*(True Word)* Green Parrot."

A phantom parrot appeared on the wooden shelf beside the desk, and the little gull squatting near it let out a threatening sound.

Limbo placated the little king, and then the phantom parrot—untouched by mechanical brass modifications—opened its beak to emit the melodious voice of the former female elven vocalist.

Even the waves and the wind grew quiet; the little gull ceased its watchful glaring, and the quiet stars and moon of the night shook with brilliant light amidst the song drifting out from the lighthouse.

[Skill check successful, [True-Word Illusion] basic proficiency +1]
[Exquisite coefficient × 1.0 (Fair and square)]
[Health status coefficient × 1.6 (Excellent)]
[Inspiration proficiency +1 (Fleeting reminiscence made real)]
[Final calculation result: [True-Word Illusion] proficiency +2.6]

"Splendid." The Night Watchman smiled, drank a dose of neuron-activating tincture, pulled a book from the shelf, opened it, and took a gentle sip of the steaming coffee.