Chương 88: Calm Before The Storm

"Checkmate." Avelyn glances at the board with visible aggrievement.

"I was close this time!" Not particularly. The game ended fourteen moves ago. I merely sacrificed several pieces to lure her into a forced checkmate sequence. Simple concept, really. My tail flicks smugly behind me. Fortunately, I am also unbelievably magnanimous, so I choose not to say that out loud.

"You were." Her ears flatten slightly as she narrows her eyes at me. …I get the distinct feeling that she knows I am lying. I think about this for several seconds. Then shrug internally. My expression, naturally, remains perfect. Anyone remotely competent at chess would immediately recognize that my strategy unfolded flawlessly, so her figuring it out is hardly catastrophic. I tilt my head slightly.

"Care for another?" She scoffs lightly.

"After seven consecutive losses? I will pass for tonight." A brief pause follows.

"... Possibly forever," she corrects weakly. Rin, naturally, seizes the opportunity instantly.

"You sure got your tail handed to you there, little miss noble," he snickers.

"After all that talk about your chess skill too." Avelyn grinds her teeth slightly but wisely chooses not to engage. I turn toward Rin with a pleasant smile.

"Would you like to take the next match, then?" He laughs again, loudly.

"Nah. I ain't in the habit of picking losing fights." I glance toward the rest of the group and am immediately met with deeply aggressive head shakes from Sylrae and Marek. … Zeke too, apparently. Tragic. It seems everyone here has already been psychologically devastated by my overwhelming chess superiority. With a lazy wave of my hand, the board and pieces dissolve into drifting motes of kaleidoscopic starlight. I actually had to work decently hard on creating that set.

My constructs almost always share the same kaleidoscopic aurora-like coloration, so creating two distinctly colored sides became a logistical nightmare. I had to manually alter the energy density flowing into each individual piece during construction, keeping the lower-energy pieces aggressively rainbow while feeding additional energy into the opposing side until they adopted the same silvery coloration as my dahlia. The board itself was worse. Far worse.

It is a single unified construct with differently colored spaces, meaning I had to split my astral energy into thirty-two separate microstreams simultaneously in order to feed alternating amounts of energy into each square during creation. Naturally, as the most beautiful and intelligent prodigy in the universe, I mastered the concept successfully. But still. It took nearly four entire minutes. Four. Completely unreasonable. I pop another strawberry into my mouth in protest against reality itself.

Dinner ended nearly two hours ago, but snacking is eternal. In my defense, the berries are unbelievably good. Besides, Pride would never permit something as undignified as weight gain anyway, so me increasing my snack intake threefold will clearly have zero consequences whatsoever. A flawless system. I was initially mildly concerned about remaining stationary long enough to sleep, but according to Marek, mana surges eventually slow their level acceleration effects considerably.

After a certain point, the excess mana instead begins increasing spawn frequency and causing mutations among existing monsters. Which means, according to his estimate, we still have around two days before the dungeon erupts into a full stampede. Progress will naturally slow from here. More enemies, stronger variants, and everything gains another skill at level sixty-five. Still, we should have enough time, assuming nothing goes wrong. … Which means something will absolutely go wrong.

That is simply how reality functions. Personally, my money is on the roaming boss. It has the strongest narrative energy by far. After all, nothing transitions a dungeon crawl from "comfortable grinding expedition" to "desperate heroic catastrophe" faster than an ultra-powerful monster appearing at the worst possible moment and forcing the protagonists into increasingly questionable improvisation. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. I can't wait.

It will be deeply catastrophic for everyone involved. Sylrae yawns, stretching both her arms and wings high above her head. The most dangerous contagion in existence—a yawn—spreads instantly through the camp. Within seconds, everyone is stretching, shifting around, or preparing for sleep. Tragic. The party collectively eyes the three sleeping bags and two tents before arriving at the same obvious conclusion almost immediately. Marek speaks first.

"You three girls take a tent and the sleeping bags. We'll take the other one." A perfectly reasonable arrangement. Avelyn and Sylrae nod gratefully. I do not bother, considering the supplies are mine to begin with. Instead, I turn toward Avelyn.

"Avelyn." She tilts her head slightly. I point toward the deer hide Marek skinned for me earlier, now free of its bark-like armor.

"Can you purify that?" She looks confused for approximately half a second before realization dawns. The admiration already present in her posture and expression somehow intensifies further. Concerning. Then she raises a fingertip. Golden radiance blooms softly from her hand, tattoos flaring briefly along her wrist and forearm like flowing molten lines beneath her skin. Very dramatic. I approve wholeheartedly.

The lingering scent of blood, dirt, and monster immediately vanishes, leaving behind nothing but pristine brown fur that looks significantly softer than expected. Apparently Avelyn is the only one who understands my intentions so far. The rest of the party is still watching us with visible confusion. Astra Nocturne settles into my grip. A few precise cuts later, the massive hide transforms from an awkward torso-shaped sheet into a clean square large enough to comfortably line the floor of a tent.

Then I walk over to the designated male tent and toss it inside. They can handle the setup themselves. At that point, realization finally spreads across their faces. Several grateful looks are sent my way. I smile pleasantly.

"I imagine that is preferable to sleeping directly on stone." It would be deeply inconvenient if they woke up with stiff backs and sore shoulders tomorrow. I am already going to be carrying this party. I refuse to allow the male side of the formation to become an even larger liability due to poor sleeping posture. The others wish us goodnight. I respond with a graceful curtsy. Avelyn immediately mirrors the motion beside me. Solidarity.

I dim the dahlia's light slightly as the others settle into their tent and begin adjusting the hide lining. Then I follow Avelyn and Sylrae into ours. The light vanishes briefly as I enter before reforming overhead moments later in a soft silvery glow. I glance around the interior for several seconds. Then nod approvingly. Acceptable. Not ideal, obviously, but there is enough room to avoid accidental midnight wing collisions or surprise tail-related violence.

I decide to accept these conditions with dignity and grace. Sylrae and Avelyn are already setting up the ultra-comfortable sleeping bags I purchased from the tutorial shop. Helpful. Under the soft silver glow of the dahlia, I quickly strip down to my underwear. Sylrae does not care in the slightest. Avelyn, meanwhile, immediately averts her gaze so fast it almost produces a sonic boom, her face flushing bright red in the dim light. … That is a highly concerning reaction.

I will have to monitor this situation carefully. With practiced motions, I pull my absurdly comfortable pajamas from storage and change into them. My tail swishes happily behind me. Comfort achieved. Avelyn finally finishes setting up my sleeping bag—face still suspiciously red—and I settle into it immediately. Hm. Nine out of ten. Not bad for only eight hundred tutorial points.

Everyone eventually settles into place, and once I confirm nobody is still moving around, I extinguish the dahlia's light completely, plunging the tent into total darkness. … For Avelyn and Sylrae at least. I can still see perfectly fine. And now that it is dark— A vine slips silently from my thigh and begins brushing gently through the fur of my tail. Another rises upward and starts scratching lightly behind one of my ears. I immediately lean into it. Yes. Very good. Understandable, honestly.

If one possesses prehensile vines and Beastkin features, refusing to automate ear scratches and tail petting would simply be irresponsible. I begin slowly drifting toward sleep. But before unconsciousness fully claims me, I make a solemn vow. A serious one. If we get ambushed in the middle of the night, I am burning down another forest. And Asterian forests are significantly larger than the tutorial ones. I nod sleepily to myself.

Now that the universe has been properly warned, there absolutely will not be a midnight ambush. … Good. I close my eyes. ✦⋆✦⋆✦ Avelyn genuinely didn't understand what was happening to her anymore. Getting this flustered over seeing someone—another girl, no less—in their underwear was ridiculous. And yet the warmth still lingered stubbornly across her cheeks, her heartbeat refusing to settle no matter how many slow breaths she took. So she closed her eyes and tried very hard not to think about it.

It worked for nearly three seconds. Then her thoughts wandered straight back to Lyn. The way she'd appeared out of nowhere to save them. The quiet confidence she carried into every battle. The absurd elegance with which she somehow managed to cook dinner in the middle of a monster-infested cave as though preparing a meal at home. The terrifying predator who danced through hordes of crawlers without hesitation.

The gentle girl who had patiently held Avelyn through her Evolution, softly patting one of her ears until the panic finally faded. Every new memory seemed to reveal another side of her. The composed mask she showed everyone else. The tiny, vulnerable cracks Avelyn occasionally caught when nobody else seemed to notice. It all should have been confusing. Instead... It just made Avelyn want to understand her better. Foxkin were naturally curious creatures. Avelyn had always considered that one of her better qualities.

Unfortunately, curiosity became rather difficult to manage when it insisted on attaching itself to an impossibly pretty white-haired girl. Her ears twitched. A sound. Extremely faint. Before her Evolution, she would never have noticed it. Now she could. Hallowed Sense sharpened more than her awareness of corruption. Her hearing had become noticeably keener as well, allowing her to pick out tiny disturbances hidden beneath the silence inside the tent. Soft rustling. The quiet shifting of fabric.

Something gently brushing through thick fur with slow, careful motions. Avelyn blinked.... Was Lyn petting herself with her vines? The mental image felt almost impossible to reconcile with the elegant swordswoman laying a few feet away. Then again... Perhaps it fit better than Avelyn first thought. Lyn always seemed so composed around other people. Maybe this was simply what she was like when she believed nobody was watching. The thought made Avelyn smile. A few tiny, sleepy noises drifted through the darkness.

Barely louder than breathing. Comfortable, content, and entirely adorable. Avelyn quietly buried half her face in the sleeping bag. This was becoming a problem. Then Lyn mumbled something in her sleep. So quietly that even with her enhanced hearing, Avelyn only caught fragments.

"... middle... I am... the forest..." A brief pause.

"... good." A few seconds later, Lyn's breathing settled into the slow, even rhythm of genuine sleep. Avelyn promptly buried the rest of her face in the sleeping bag. She still couldn't understand it. How could someone be so frightening in battle, yet somehow become this unbearably cute the moment she let her guard down? Everything about Lyn seemed to pull in opposite directions, and somehow none of those pieces felt false. Violence versus gentleness. Confidence versus loneliness. Danger versus softness.

The elegant, untouchable prodigy everyone else saw versus the sleepy Foxkin quietly petting her own tail with vines because she thought nobody was awake to hear it. Those things should not have fit together so easily. They should have made Lyn harder to approach. Instead, Avelyn only felt herself being drawn closer, slowly and helplessly, like she had stepped too near the tide and noticed the current only after it had already caught her ankles. Maybe everyone else only saw the fighter. The beautiful dancer.

The impossibly powerful Foxkin carrying the party through the dungeon. Avelyn wasn't so sure anymore. She thought there was another Lyn beneath all of that. One very few people ever got to meet. Sleep gradually tugged at her thoughts. Half-awake, she smiled into the sleeping bag.

"... She really is cute though." The warmth lingering in her chest followed Avelyn all the way into her dreams.