Chapter 460 The Survivor

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Each of its knuckles landed on the ground with titanic tremors that briefly caused both of the men's feet to lift from the ground; its hands were thicker than redwood trees, large enough to grasp elephants.

"Emilio," Everett whispered.

"Shh..." Emilio responded, not breaking eye contact with the colossal primate above, "...Don't speak."

The nostrils of the grand beast flared as it exhaled, bringing a mighty gust of wind that rustled the Dragonheart's cloak.

"Spare them, Musafala!"

—A voice that didn't belong to either of the men shouted at, seeming to be yelled directly at the colossus.

It was then that a figure became obvious in the near distance, standing on a hill between trees: a man with a scruffy, red beard, dressed in shoddy, leather armor.

'Another person? Who is he?' Emilio thought.

Whoever the stranger was, it seemed that the mountainous gorilla held some respect for his words as it pulled away, exhaling once more with a tree-rustling breeze before walking off.

Each of its steps, growing more distant, still rumbled the land.

Everett let out a breath of relief, gasping out, "We're saved!"

"Yeah..." Emilio looked over at the stranger on the hill, "Thanks for the assist, but who are you?"

As the stranger jumped over, clearing a dozen meters with a single leap, two things were made clear—the man was quite capable, and also, looked as though he hadn't bathed in months.

The black-and-brown leather gear the man wore was scratched up, full of holes, and covered in dirt, blood, and grime.

In addition to the adventuring gear the man wore, he seemed to have a few teeth replaced with golden ones.

There was definitely a stench of "nature" given off from the man, who arrived with a smile as he scratched his beard.

"The name's Maverick Jones, good to meetcha!" The man introduced himself, "—Well, it's good to meet anybody, actually! Ha-ha...ha..."

Maverick watched the act of magic be performed, "Huh, magic without an incantation? That's pretty rare. Makes sense why you'd be here, then."

"What do you mean?" Emilio asked.

"Oh, nothing," Maverick said, brushing the question aside as he continued on, "My camp is close by. I've got enough lunch for both of you, too."

Though Emilio had his own suspicions about the odd man, he felt there wasn't enough to justify rejecting his hospitality, instead opting to follow along to get any information he could about the dangerous island.

The camp claimed by Maverick was huddled up inside a cave, hidden behind a barrier of leaves.

"Argh–what's that smell?!" Everett complained as he passed through the leaves, gagging as he covered his nose.

Maverick laughed, patting one of the leaves to show the orange, sticky substance that was lathering all of the leaves, "Ha-ha! It's "Dead Man's Jo", I call it. A type of flower on this island secretes it to throw off predators with the rancid smell. That makes it perfect for warding off unwelcome guests from my camp."

"Smart thinking," Emilio remarked.

Knowing the reason for the use of the secretion that smelled like an unholy combination of rotting carcasses and feces didn't make it any lovelier, especially for Everett's all-too-strong sense of smell.

As the two followed the strange inhibitor of the island into the cave, it was surprisingly "home-ly", having chairs made out of intertwined straw, a bed of the same material, and some furniture that was, nicely put, imperfectly made out of hand-chopped wood.

"This is my kingly abode! Nice, isn't it?" Maverick asked with a proud smile.

Emilio nodded wryly, looking around, "Err...Yeah."

Placing himself down on one of the seats, Maverick lifted a bowl made out of leaves that was filled with wriggling larvae.

"Hey, whaddya got that f–" Everett began to ask.

The question was answered as the man shoveled a few of the grub straight into his mouth, chewing with juicy crunches that made both of the newcomers to the island wince in disgust.

"Eugh..." Emilio breathed out, trying not to get sick from the sight.

Maverick looked over at him, offering the bowl of insects, "Want some? Good protein."

"No thanks...not hungry," Emilio declined.

"Me neither," Everett nodded.

"Suit yourself–more for me," Maverick shrugged, happily continuing his feast that seemed gourmet to him.