Chapter 16 Pay Back

Blackie's newly awakened skill cast a ripple through the flock, stirring a mix of emotions—envy, awe, and, most importantly, desperate hope. It was no longer just a battle for survival or dominance; it was a race to awaken their own latent powers.

John observed the shift, noticing the flicker of fierce determination in their eyes.

"Just stick to the plan," he advised, his tone carrying an edge of authority. "Do what I taught you, and you'll find your strength soon enough."

As he studied the flock, his mind wandered. Bubble... It's fierce and brutal. A natural punisher, its darker edge makes it perfect to keep the others in line—a discipliner. He smirked slightly. On the other hand, Blackie has the makings of a hero—strong, resilient, and capable of inspiring others to take the brighter path. Together, they'd be unstoppable: one leading with resolve, the other enforcing with fear.

Despite John's musings, the chaotic brawl continued in earnest. Birds swarmed Bubble from all directions, their claws outstretched and beaks aimed to strike. It was a frenzy of flapping wings and screeches, each bird desperate to prove itself.

Bubble, hovering at the center of the onslaught, chirped in exasperation. "Enough with this nonsense! Have you all forgotten my skill? Let me remind you."

Ignoring its warning, the flock surged forward undeterred.

With a sharp, almost disdainful cry, Bubble opened its mouth. A barrage of tiny, shimmering watery orbs burst forth, far smaller than the trapping bubbles it had used before. These weren't meant to ground or confine—they were projectiles, precise and brutal.

The first wave struck the parrots leading the charge. Each orb exploded on contact, releasing sharp bursts of energy. Feathers rained down as the parrots cried out in pain, their formation shattered. The sparrows fared no better, their attempts to evade ending in futility as they, too, were struck by the relentless barrage.

The most vicious blow landed on the woodpecker that had doggedly pursued Bubble with its beak. It let out a guttural screech, careening off course and slamming into the cave wall.

John watched in stunned silence, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and amusement. "Good lord... Bubble's not just using its skill—it's evolving it. Finding new ways to weaponize those bubbles. Genius, pure genius."

As the chaos unfolded, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a mechanical voice.

["Do you want to establish a mental link with Bubble, the sparrow?"]

John's lips twisted into a smirk. "Not that I'm expecting much from this unreliable thing, but sure. Link me up while I try not to lose my mind over how brilliant this little psycho is."

["Linkage Failed. Error!"] The announcement rang out repeatedly, grating on John's nerves.

He sighed, shaking his head. "As expected, very unreliable."

["The Mental Linkage Succeeded!"]

Before he could react, the familiar sensation of being pulled through a mental tunnel overwhelmed him. Colors and lights blurred past as his consciousness linked to Bubble's mental spectrum. It was a bizarre, almost overwhelming experience—suddenly, he was feeling what Bubble felt, hearing its thoughts as if they were his own.

Initially, John had expected chaos—a maelstrom of cruelty and madness befitting Bubble's psychotic tendencies. But what he found was far more nuanced.

Bubble isn't just crazy—it's calculated. He mused, listening to the bird's chain of thought. Sure, its ego and pride are way off the charts, but there's something else... A weird kind of care for its kind, buried under layers of disdain. It's not a mindless killer—it's just convinced none of them are worthy of its respect. Perfect. I'll shape that twisted pride into the ultimate punishing machine.

Suddenly, John's vision shifted, encompassing an almost surreal clarity. Through Bubble's eyes, he saw a bird's-eye view spanning nearly 270 degrees. He could pinpoint the precise coordinates of the approaching birds, smell the faint tang of their hostility, and even feel their intent like a pulse in the air.

The bird's thoughts were a whirlwind of analysis, strategy, and confidence, plotting the next ten moves of its opponents with mechanical precision.

"Shit," John muttered, both impressed and unnerved. This sparrow's scarier than I thought. It's already mapped out every possible move they could make. The only gap in its awareness is the remaining 90 degrees, but even that's compensated by its sharpened beastial senses—especially its ability to smell intent. It doesn't just see its enemies—it reads them. And they all seemed sloppy, including Blackie.

Bubble's prideful thoughts reverberated in John's mind. Pathetic. They're all beneath me. Why should I waste my power teaching them a lesson when they're not even worth it?

John chuckled darkly. "Oh, Bubble, you're going to be such fun to work with. Let's see how far that pride can take you."

Bubble spat another volley of water bubbles—small, concentrated orbs acting like water bullets. They struck with precision, hitting anything that dared come within its range.

The attacking birds persisted, weaving through the air with zig-zagging flight patterns in an attempt to dodge the relentless onslaught. Yet, as they got closer, the water bullets intensified, causing sharper stings and bruises. Every strike drew pained cries, scattering feathers and forcing the birds to falter mid-flight.

Despite the relentless assault, there wasn't even an iota of surrender in their eyes. They pressed forward, driven by desperation and hope. Each of them wished to use this chance—to push their limits, strengthen their resolve, and, with luck, awaken their innate skills.

Among the chaos, the persistent woodpecker managed to edge closer to Bubble, flapping its wings furiously as its sharp beak gleamed under the dim cave light.

John's brow furrowed as he noticed something unusual. Wait! Why is Bubble letting it get this close? That's not like it. Is there some deeper agenda here?

He focused, diving into Bubble's thoughts through the mental link. The sparrow's mind brimmed with vindictive glee, its plans unfolding like a dark horror movie.

Let it come closer, Bubble mused with chilling precision. Draw it in—let it think it's winning. Then I'll crush this annoying pest once and for all.

John couldn't help but grin as he pieced it together. Ah, I see now. This isn't just a battle; this is personal. That woodpecker must've been a thorn in Bubble's side for a while—landing that heavy peck earlier, bruising its body and, worse, its ego. This is payback. And Bubble's pride won't let it rest until the debt is repaid in full.

The woodpecker, oblivious to the trap, surged forward with renewed vigor, its beak aimed straight at Bubble. The sparrow remained perfectly still, poised like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Bubble began to chirp a peculiar chant. To the other birds, it was nothing more than a sweet, melodic tune. But John, still linked to Bubble's mind, felt the ominous energy radiating from it.

This is insane, John thought, panic welling in his chest. Is it actually planning to kill the woodpecker? He wanted desperately to intervene, but the mental link left him powerless. His physical body was disconnected, unable to issue any command to halt the psychotic sparrow's attack.

Sensing the growing tension, Blackie chirped loudly, "Little brother, it's a trap! Get out of there, now!"

The woodpecker, either too stubborn or too prideful, chirped back defiantly, "No. This is my fight! Stay out of my way." It continued its reckless charge, undeterred.

"Ah, ignorant fool!" John hissed, his frustration mounting as he watched helplessly.

Bubble twisted its head and chirped. For a moment, nothing happened. No bubbles, no attack, nothing.

The woodpecker laughed nervously, "See? You were worried for nothing, Big Brother!"

But Bubble's mocking snarl cut through the air. "Really? You still don't get it? Now I almost feel bad for you."

Suddenly, the air in the cave grew heavy with tension. Ten suction points materialized, pulling water vapor from every corner of the cave. Within moments, the gathered moisture coalesced into five massive, spherical water masses, each the size of a bucket, floating ominously around the woodpecker.

The woodpecker froze, its earlier bravado replaced by terror. The other birds, too, watched in stunned silence, fear gripping their hearts.

Bubble chirped once more, its tone dripping with malice.

John muttered under his breath, "Now you're a cornered beast... with no way out. No mercy, huh? Bullseye!"

Then it began. The water spheres fragmented into rapid-fire bullets, each one denser and faster than before. The relentless barrage rained down from all directions, striking the woodpecker mercilessly.

The cave echoed with the woodpecker's agonized screeches, each cry a chilling reminder of Bubble's ruthlessness.

"This is just a competition! Stop it right now!" Blackie chirped, its voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Bubble turned its gaze to Blackie, its expression cold and mocking. "Who are you to order me around?" it sneered. "Do you think your shiny little wings put you on my level? Laughable."

The sparrow's tone darkened. "But fine. I'll humor you. Beg for its life, and I might consider letting it go. What do you say? Are you willing to swallow your pride for this pathetic fool?"

Blackie's feathers bristled with anger, its steely resolve shining through. It didn't respond with words. Instead, it spread its metallic wings, their sharp edges glinting ominously as it launched itself toward the fight.

Bubble's mocking laugh rang out. "Oh, you're actually trying? How amusing. Let's see how far you get, hero."

The tension thickened as Blackie surged forward, its intent clear. The other birds held their breath, watching as the inevitable clash unfolded.