Novel Everyone's a Catgirl!

Chapter 183: EXEC_FLIP_ARPHAGE/.

The smoke and haze cleared from the room, leaving the group standing alone inside the immense welcoming hall. Cailu had his sword drawn while Naeemah and Kirti maintained a watch of their flank—that oversight in the tunnel would never happen again.

The high ceilings of the citadel were the same as Cailu remembered all those years ago when he’d first stepped foot on this desiccated island. However, many of its windows were replaced by stained glass depictions of dragons. Dozens of decorative light fixtures dangled low from the tall ceiling, forming a dizzying circle of glass spheres with twin wires lit and maintained by magic.

Naeemah knelt, fingering the rich red carpets that covered the floors beneath their feet. “Not a single expense spared.”

“Oh? You didn’t enjoy luxury while residing in this citadel, Nae?” Kirti twisted her hand in the air, smiling as the lights flickered in response.

“Do not put words in my mouth,” Naeemah snarled. She stood, shoulders tense as she studied the room.

“Not to this degree, Kirti.” Cailu shook his head. “I advise we abstain from idle chatter, lest we find ourselves once again surrounded.”

“Most of the Ejderha should be dead, right?” Matt asked quietly.

“Yes. But Magni still lives,” Cailu replied. “Split up.”

Matt nodded, then moved to the left side of the room with his Party while Tristan occupied the right, Zahra following closely behind him. There was an echo of what sounded like a high whimpering. Kirti’s ears twitched to the side, and she looked in Tristan’s direction with mild curiosity.

“Guys,” Tristan hissed. After catching the group’s attention, he pointed to the hallway leading to the next chamber, then cupped his ear as if listening in.

Cailu nodded, leading their entourage into the corridor with a wave. If he recalled correctly, Naeemah had fashioned the next hall into a reception room for Ichi’s citizens to hold conference with her.

Though never to this magnitude.

A hush befell the room as they entered the reception hall. No small feat, seeing as over a hundred catgirls and their offspring had been herded inside like cattle. Many of them were pregnant, and most had multiple kittens that clung to their sides, whimpering at the sight of the newcomers and their bloody, dirt-stained aspects. The room was impossible to navigate without stepping on toes or tails. Cailu halted their advance at the edge of the crowd.

“At last, the hunter leads his mongrels to the slaughter,” a deep voice announced from the back of the room. “Will you kill my women and children, too?”

“Magni,” Cailu hissed.

The man himself sat at the center of a dais on a tall glimmering throne bedecked in precious jewels and deep purple cushions. His curved horns dripped with golden chains, and the thin black braids of his hair held tiny clasps of silver. Shining, unmarked armor that rivaled Cailu’s [Combat Mode] Equipment wrapped around his chest and limbs, embellished with a purple cape. Magni’s languid posture and apathetic expression summoned the latent fury in Cailu’s blood.

“No one’s here to kill your people, Magni,” Tristan called.

“You’ve done a good enough job of that yourself,” Matt growled.

“Hm. Interesting.” Eerie white eyes studied each person in their group in turn, then rested on Naeemah. “Are you not too old to continue this farce, Naeemah?”

“I could ask the same,” Naeemah retorted. “Only a child hides in their room when confronted with a difficult truth.”

“Truth?” Magni raised his head, then slowly stood from the throne. “What truth is that?”

“That you are a plague on the people of Ichi Island,” Zahra said suddenly. “You starve, torture, overwork, and underpay them. Every city fears your wicked Ejderha and meaningless tax.”

“Is that so?” Magni crossed his arms over his chest and studied Zahra with a frown. His gaze snapped to one of the women in the room, and he barked, “Eshe! Bring them the books.”

“Eshe,” Naeemah murmured.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” A white-haired catgirl with silver eyes curtsied to Magni, holding three thick tomes to her chest with one arm. Her dark face was just beginning to bear hints of crow's feet and small wrinkles at the corners of her mouth.

“Mama, wait!” A dark-haired kitten with eyes just like her mother’s clung to Eshe’s silk dress. Tears streaked her soft cheeks, and her eyes were bloodshot. “Please don’t go. I don’t want them to kill you, too.”

Naeemah hissed a rushed breath between gritted teeth. Cailu raised a hand at his side, cautioning her to silence.

Magni had painted their retinue as monsters, labeling them murderers and doubtlessly blaming them for the tunnel’s collapse. Ravyn’s melting of the door hadn’t won them any favors—the panicked tension in the room was palpable. Ichi Island’s man had grown into a cold calculator since their previous encounter. We must keep our reactions in check.

“We will not hurt your mother, child,” Cailu assured her, sheathing his sword before turning his icy gaze on Magni. “Though, one must wonder the reason for this pompous ceremony.”

Eshe tiptoed through the crowd, curtsying to Cailu. She turned to Naeemah with the same motion, then stopped herself. Magni’s gaze narrowed, and Eshe’s face flushed.

“I wish to confront you with a difficult truth, Cailu.” Magni slowly paced the dais, his cape flowing behind him. “You have come to destroy everything we have worked for.”

With shaking hands, Eshe passed Cailu the first book.

“What is this?” Accepting the tome, he flipped through its yellowed pages. Each one was filled with carefully penned ink depicting charts, lists, graphs, and notes.

“That is a current and accurate account of Ichi Island’s exports and imports. Beneath my rule, we have brought in twice the amount of capital than Naeemah ever mustered,” Magni replied.

“May I?” Naeemah asked, holding a hand toward the book.

Cailu passed it to her, accepting the second book from Eshe.

“And you used your shiny piles of Bells to decorate your castle?” Ravyn snapped.

Keep silent, wretch.

Magni gestured to the throng of women and children in the room. “You yourself have borne witness to the Second and First Shells. My citizens live without fear of wondering where their next meal will come from. They’re educated and pampered. All of this comes at great cost.”

“What about the Third Shell? They live in squalor, Magni,” Tristan countered.

Magni raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. “Boys are leading islands now? I thought this was a man’s job.”

Tristan flushed, fists clenching in his palms.

Matt put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “You’re ignoring his question.”

“You understand that things take time, surely? Luxury and protection will extend into the Third Shell, then the Fourth. The ones worthy of it already have it.” Magni spread his arms wide, sweeping them over the crowd. “Do any of these women look tortured to you?”

“You’re basing the happiness of your citizens on a small percentage. What of the outside cities? Madhyam? Kandota?” Tristan pressed.

“Time, boy. At current, each city receives a monthly stipend from the collected taxes. How they choose to use it is of their own volition.” Magni pointed at Cailu. “That book lists taxes, payouts, and criminal records.”

Naeemah paused her skimming, eyes locking with Magni’s.

A slow smile spread across the self-proclaimed king’s face. “That’s right, Naeemah. Your rule required multiple tomes dedicated to criminal record keeping. Ichi Island’s number of crimes are obsolete in comparison.”

“That’s because you lock them in cages!” Matt snapped. “The Ejderha bully these girls until they fight back, and you let them bake in the sun.”

“You insinuate that I show favor. My Ejderha are not exempt from punishment, as I’m sure you noticed with Aliye.” Magni descended the stairs that led to the throne, and the girls parted to let him pass. “Allow me to level with you. You infiltrated my city, ignored protocol and regulation, kidnapped my hunters, murdered my Ejderha, destroyed one of the walls offering us much-needed safety from the Encroachers, and Defiled. You carry the blood of my second in command, Sanrai, on your hands. Progress on the Fourth Shell must not only be halted but stalled as we rebuild the First Shell’s wall.” He reached Cailu, standing nearly a head taller, and used his full height to look down on him. “All of this in the name of a summit—” he glanced to the side at Matt and Tristan, then frowned, “—with children.”

Cailu stared at Magni in silence, his hatred for the irredeemable bastard striking at his patience like a hammer to the forge. It was an emotion he hadn’t experienced in what felt like lifetimes. Once again, he stood on the defensive against a manipulative, self-indulgent monarch that had won the people to his side with underhanded tactics and ego-driven business practices. Why hadn’t these political confrontations died with him? Vanished with Fera and Heiki?

But… Won the people? Magni has done no such thing.

“Magni, your proposed ‘satisfied populace’ in the Second Shell and Third Shell are outside dismantling that wall with matched enthusiasm.” Cailu forced his voice to remain unwavering. “Your claims of improving this island and its inhabitants lose all meaning by hiding behind those who can’t fight.” He mocked Magni’s sweeping gesture toward the filled room. “Pray, tell me what would happen if you greeted the Second and Third Shell citizens right now? Would they welcome you with open arms?”

Magni’s mouth pulled into a long, thin line as he set his jaw.

“You are the one who brought children to a summit,” Cailu snarled. “You are a coward, Magni.”

“Are you implying I cannot fight?” Magni’s sharp teeth shimmered in the light.

“You fight the weak—the ones who cannot fight back. A detestable, pusillanimous tactic.”

“What are you suggesting, Cailu?” Magni hissed, his features twisting with anger. “Should I strike down one of your boys? Will that satisfy your bloodlust?”

“Fight me, you fatuous bastard.” Cailu straightened his back, never allowing Magni’s gaze to go free. “To the death.”

 

Chapter 184: EXEC_COSMOFLIPS/.

Magni snarled, reeling back from the elf’s suggestion. Always pushing his ideals and forcing his ways, this little man. “Your arrogance is no less cloying than when we first met, Cailu.”

“More cowardice, Magni?” Cailu narrowed his eyes. “You called for the murder of three of Nyarlea’s men, and you dare consider my challenge one of arrogance?”

“Murder?” A smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “You collapse my tunnels and kill my remaining Ejderha, and dare claim I’m the murderer?”

Cailu’s features darkened. “You continue resorting to lies?” He drew his sword, and the catgirls in Magni’s court whimpered and hissed. “Either step down graciously or duel me with the scrapped remnants of your honor.”

Flecks of blood marred the glittering blade, catching Magni’s eye. Ejderha blood, no doubt. Sanrai’s. Fury boiled in his veins. Of all that was lost in Matt, Tristan, and Cailu’s frantic bedlam in Rājadhānī, Sanrai’s absence pierced his heart. He looked over his shoulder at the catgirls awaiting his response. They depended on him for their safety and happiness—it was on his shoulders to maintain the status quo.

And here stood three fools and their cohorts that so stridently believed they had the right of it.

No matter. Their actions had lost favor with any in the First Shell and presumably a portion of the Second. Donning the mantle of a gracious leader had never been easier. “Very well. If your island means so little to you, we will fight.” Behind him were at least a dozen gasps. He held up a hand. “However, it is not my desire to cut a man down when he is at half strength.”

“Half strength?” Cailu blustered, gritting his teeth. “I assure you, I—”

Magni shook his head. “You wear rags and dirt. Where is your armor? The bags beneath your eyes say you haven’t slept, and the smell suggests you haven’t bathed.” He gestured to the entourage as a whole. “As you recall, the citadel can comfortably house you all. Eat, rest, let the duel begin at dawn.”

“What, so you can poison us?” the redhead standing beside Matt snapped.

Magni frowned. “You have a master of poisons among you who can assess the food and drink. Isn’t that right, Naeemah?”

Naeemah’s expression was hidden behind her mask, but the glint of concern in her eyes was enough. I know of your attempts, fallen queen.

“Why do you delay the inevitable?” Cailu growled.

“I believe your challenge to be made in haste. I hope that rest will clear your senses.” Magni replied.

“You understand that I act with the Queen’s blessing?” Cailu’s hands wrung the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. “Killing one of Nyarela’s men in cold blood carries a fatal consequence. But three?” He raised the blade to his shoulder. “Her Majesty would understand if I did not bring you to trial.”

Magni raised his eyebrows. Was Cailu truly so anserine as to execute him publicly? Did he not understand who was perceived as the enemy in the room?

“Cailu. Stop.” Naeemah was suddenly at the elf’s side, hand on his shoulder and mask beneath her chin. A deep scar ran beneath her right eye—a wound sustained after her time as Rājadhānī’s ruler, it seemed.

To Magni’s surprise, Cailu hesitated.

“You wanted the summit, correct? Take the night and have one,” she continued. Her serpentine eyes lingered on Magni’s face. “Magni will not kill us. He would never betray the trust of his court.”

Intrigue is still your strong suit, I see. “Or my guests.”

The woman with patterned skin and unsettling orange eyes studied Magni’s face. “When did you begin to consider us guests, King Magni?”

Magni grinned, pushing away the chilling sensation that she was peering into his depths. “As soon as you crossed the citadel’s threshold.” He clapped his hands twice. “Lakshmi, Aanya, would you be so kind as to show them to the guest wing and draw them baths?”

Two women stepped out of the crowd and bowed, gesturing for the group to follow. Matt and Tristan exchanged uncomfortable looks before Matt touched the shoulders of his Party and jerked his chin in the servants’ direction. Cailu tarried behind, eyes never leaving Magni. At last, he sheathed his sword, then turned and marched behind Naeemah and Lakshmi.

“Eshe. A moment,” Magni announced.

“What about the rest of us, my king? Shall we remain in the citadel?” a young woman named Lotus asked, her voice and demeanor timid.

“Yes.” He watched as Lotus’ face fell. It wasn’t the first expression of upset at being forced from their homes. “I assure you, this is temporary. Once there’s sufficient protection in the First Shell and reappointed guards, you all may return home.”

Lotus nodded, hugging her kitten closer to her side.

“For now, please enjoy the citadel’s facilities and offerings. Hail an attendant should you need anything.” Magni spread his arms wide and smiled. “This is not a prison, dearest subjects. You are free to move about as you wish.”

Many of the catgirls bowed and curtsied before funneling out of the great hall. They would be safe enough—harming any of them would only be a detriment to Cailu, Tristan, and Matt. Besides, spreading the citizens throughout the castle offered a wider range of ears and eyes should the intruders attempt a coup d’état.

“Your Majesty?” Eshe appeared before him and bowed, the record books held fast in her arms. Her daughter was gone, presumably dismissed with the other kittens before her mother answered the king.

“Join me in the room of records.” Magni strode toward the opposite end of the throne room before Eshe could reply. She scuttled behind him, balancing the books in her arms.

They moved inside the small alcove, filled with tomes upon tomes of statistics, registers, and receipts. Books that meticulously outlined and disclosed at least two hundred years of Ichi Island’s history. In his previous world, those born beneath the dragon were meant only to rule as a figurehead, leaving accounting and lawmaking to the royal council. In Nyarlea, he’d had to learn every working cog of Ichi Island’s clock.

Magni traced the leather spines with his fingertips, noting the sheer number of pages that his rule encompassed. “Eshe, you are one of the last women alive that I can trust.”

Eshe crossed her hands over her lap and bowed her head. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“You proved your loyalty long ago when you reported Naeemah’s attempted assassination to me.” Magni tugged one of the books free and thumbed through the pages. “You two were close, were you not?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Eshe’s face flushed, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “However, I didn’t agree with her approach. I… I still don’t.”

“And what of my approach? In keeping Rājadhānī safe from those who wish to see it restored beneath Naeemah’s rule?” Magni sat at the enormous pawm wood desk and snapped his fingers. A half-dozen candles ignited around them, illuminating the yellowing pages.

Eshe’s tail wavered with uncertainty. “I am not versed in battle or defensive tactics, my king.” She peered up through her dark bangs and softened her voice. “I know you must miss her, Your Majesty. I’m not a suitable replacement for Sanrai.”

“No one is,” Magni replied curtly, skimming one page with his pointer finger. “Even so, I would ask you to keep an eye on Cailu and Naeemah this evening. If anything seems out of sorts, report it directly to me. Immediately.”

“Yes, of course.” Eshe bowed again. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my king?”

“No, that will be all. Thank you.” Magni waved her away with his free hand.

Eshe exited the room, closing the door behind her. Magni’s finger stilled over the passage he sought. A personal journal entry he’d penned not long after Naeemah had vanished with Cailu.

The Defiled are not what they seem…

 

Chapter 185: EXEC_with.METHOD_METAFALICA/.

Adrenaline pounded against my eardrums, limiting my hearing and blurring my vision. Magni was there. He was right there. The man that had almost killed us. He had no guards left, no protection. Hell, he’d brought women and children to block our path. It would be so easy to summon my axe and swing. Bury my axe in that scaly neck and watch him bleed out all over the floor.

“Matt,” Keke murmured, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

And just like that, we watched him walk away.

My hands balled into fists, nails piercing dirt-caked flesh. “Cailu,” I snarled as he passed.

“Let it go, Matt,” Cailu hissed. “One way or another, this odyssey ends tomorrow.”

“But, Magni—”

Cailu snatched the front of my shirt in a fist, his cold slate eyes inches from mine. He lowered his voice, the words strung together with a ferocity that paralleled mine. “Games of court intrigue do not absolve Magni from what he has done. One false move here will destroy everything we have worked for. Is that what you want?”

“No. I just—”

Tristan appeared at my shoulder, his hand over Cailu’s fist. “There are a lot of eyes watching how we interact right now.” He tipped his head back, gesturing to the crowd of catgirls lingering behind him. “It would be safest to assume that they’d love to report this back to the king.”

I looked between them, an inch of my anger deflating from my shoulders. They were both right. The only ‘court’ I’d ever been inside was while I waited for jury duty, so I didn’t have a clue what formalities were being enacted now. Plus, seeing the abject horror in the kittens’ eyes with our entry tore at my chest. How could they not know about girls like Meera? Kittens on rationed water and leftover scraps of food.

“Behave yourself, Matt.” Cailu released my shirt, spinning on his heel and jogging to catch up with Kirti and Naeemah.

“Sure. Thanks, Dad,” I grumbled, rubbing the spot on my chest where Cailu’s knuckles had dug into my skin.

Tristan chuckled. “He does kind of give off that vibe, doesn’t he?”

“I guess.” I shook my head. “Tristan, how can you be so damn calm right now?” Our strides fell in sync as we followed the two girls to the guest wing of the citadel.

“Well, any way you think about it, we’re all safe. It’s a nice change from the last couple of weeks.” He glanced behind him and said in a hush, “Magni won’t try to kill us. Not right now.”

“How do you figure?”

“It would ruin the appearance of his hospitality for the First Shell girls. He treats them well, and they’re his eyes. Every one of them will be on high alert to see what either side does.”

“Wouldn’t that be more of a reason to kill us all if we’re the villains in this charade? Seems like the girls would have no problem helping.”

“From what I’ve read, any Nyarlean inhabitant who witnesses a man’s death would need to report the incident to the Queen and have the account corroborated by any other witnessing citizens of the city. They launch a full-scale investigation with the Royal Guard; it’s incredibly intensive,” Tristan explained.

“The boy is correct,” Cailu called over his shoulder. “At least one of you has performed a modicum of study.”

Tristan flushed, then sighed. “Anyway, it’s one thing for three men to die in the unexpected collapse of a wall. Easily substantiated, especially if the Ejderha perished with it. It’s another to commit outright murder.”

I frowned. To me, it seemed Magni was willing to do just about anything to see us all locked in cages or with our heads on pikes. But if both Tristan and Cailu trusted the political song and dance, I would go along with it.

“Here we are,” the white-haired girl stopped at one door, and her black-haired cohort moved to a second one a few steps away. “There are three beds in each room. Lakshmi and I will draw your baths just across the hallway.” She pointed to a door to the room’s direct opposite. “We will fetch you when the baths are ready.”

Three beds. I looked up at my girls, meeting Keke and Ravyn’s gazes. Keke and I could share—

“I’ll stay with Tristan and Zahra,” Cannoli said, moving to stand next to Zahra without ever meeting my eyes.

I see. “Sure, Cannoli. That’s fine.” I didn’t want to push her. We could talk about it later.

Keke, Ravyn, and I wandered into the room the white-haired girl—Aanya, I remembered—had stood by. The chamber was enormous; each bed could comfortably hold three people. Mosaics plastered the walls with more delicate glass tiles in the shape of fire-spewing dragons. A fireplace was embedded into the far wall, with a small water fountain gurgling cheerily beside it.

“Damn. This would fit well in the queen’s castle,” Ravyn noted. She lifted Ball from her shoulder and placed him on a wooden headrest.

“Why is it like this, though?” I ran a hand through my hair, then tossed my [Cat Pack] on the nearest bed. “Is he really hosting anyone?”

“Maybe not. But if it’s an intimidation tactic, it’s working,” Keke admitted. “Magni has enough Bells to afford anything he wants.”

“That’s a dangerous thought,” Ravyn replied.

“Yeah. I think so, too,” Keke agreed.

“Pardon me. Your bath is ready,” Aanya announced with a bow. “I will have a clean set of clothing for each of you here when you are finished.”

“Thanks, Aanya.” There was no reason to be rude to the girls in the castle. It wasn’t their fault that their king was an enormous douchebag.

We watched as she exited the room to tell the others, then Keke whispered, “Honestly, if there’s a long hot bath waiting in there for me, they can poison me all they want.”

Ravyn cackled a laugh, and I responded with a weak chuckle. I wanted to feel better about the whole situation, really. Find some humor in it with the others. But the image of Ceres lying in my lap, holding her guts in with her arms, kept replaying in my head.

I sighed and followed them to the bath.

Once we were clean and redressed, I felt a little bit like a civilized person again. Aanya left me a pair of loose-fitting tan trousers and a white button-up shirt. The material allowed the air to pass freely through it, cooling my skin as I walked.

For the girls, well, they looked like Arabian princesses.

Keke wore an ivory top that wrapped across her chest, around her waist, then crossed high on her back. Flowing white skirts hung at her hips, shifting like water with her every step. Long sleeves belled from the bends of her arms, the edges trailing down to the hem of her dress. Golden chains, charms, and accessories dripped from her neck, waist, and sleeves, shimmering like stars in the light of the lamps.

She caught me staring, performing a twirl on the ball of her foot. Everything moved with her; a hypnotic blend of skin, fabric, and gold. “Like it?”

“I do,” I admitted. “But now I feel pretty underdressed.”

“You can wear mine if you want,” Ravyn grumbled. Her attire was similar, though the cloth was crimson red and the gold accented with rubies. Strings of metal beads around her hips jingled as she walked. “Everyone will hear you from a mile away.”

“It’s better to warn them, really,” I teased.

“Baka.”

The sleek lines of their taut stomachs seemed to invite my fingertips. I shook my head to clear it.

“Pardon me.” Aanya was at the door, her long white hair falling over her shoulders as she bowed. “Dinner is served.”

“Shall we?” I turned to the girls, and they nodded.

Aanya showed us to an enormous dining table packed to every edge with food. Cooked meats, sugared fruits, bread, and vegetables both familiar and foreign. An assortment of wine bottles and pitchers of golden liquid punctuated the feast from one end of the table to the other. The smell was incredible. Magni sat at its head on another golden throne accented with wings and dragon heads, Eshe at his side.

And here I thought Nyarlea’s theming was too strong.

Cailu and Tristan were already there. Naeemah had returned to her green silks while Kirti still wore the pink patterns of her [Witch Doctor] attire. I briefly wondered if she had [Casual Mode] clothing.

Zahra wore a deep red saree that crossed over her left shoulder, and Cannoli donned a simple white shift. She didn’t look at me as we took our seats at the table.

“Now. Let us eat as friends at least, hm?” Magni spread his arms wide, his glowing white smile radiating from his face.

I grunted a non-committal reply; Tristan and Cailu were more vocal. Everyone filled their plates and ate in silence. It had the same feeling as one of those family holiday meals that no one wants to actually be at, but everyone showed up for the free food. Which was excellent. But the whole time, you sit there wondering when Aunt Patti will ask you why you’re not in business school or have a girlfriend.

The other problem was the exhaustion setting in with every bite. It really started to sink in. I hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours. From the Chikara, to the Ejderha fights, to the tunnel. Then working tirelessly to clear the wall enough for us to pass through. After a bath and a good meal for the first time in weeks, every nerve in my body was screaming for me to sleep. Even with sticking to water over wine, I felt my eyes grow heavy. My head lulled forward, threatening to choose the table as an adequate pillow.

“Magni, will you allow me to explain our true purpose here?” Cailu announced suddenly.

His voice jerked me awake. Even Keke and Ravyn flinched with Cailu’s booming voice.

“A summit, correct? That is what you told my Ejderha before slaughtering them?” Magni asked, venom coating his words.

Cailu frowned, then looked around the table. “Matt, choose one of your girls to remain behind.”

I blinked, my tongue trapped in my mouth. “Why?”

“Let us each keep one pair of additional eyes and ears for this meeting. It will help us stay on track and prevent idle banter,” Cailu explained.

“I—” I started.

Ravyn stood and touched my shoulder. “Mattaku. You can explain everything later.” She moved to Cannoli’s side and knelt to grab her hand. It was strange to see her act with so much care. “Come on, Cannoli. Let’s go relax.”

“O… Okay,” Cannoli squeaked, standing to follow Ravyn out of the room.

Kirti shrugged and did the same without another word. Zahra remained between Tristan and Naeemah, and Eshe at Magni’s right.

“Allow me to be frank.” Cailu clasped his hands on the table. “Nyarlea, as a whole, is in desperate straits.”

“My island is fine,” Magni growled.

“Every island,” Cailu continued, emphasizing the word, “as well as Nyarlothep, has its slew of problems and difficulties that would be better handled by all four men as a team. Not a solo endeavor.”

“As I understand, my position in this world is to protect and produce offspring. By all accounts, I’ve done just that for many years,” Magni countered.

“I would argue the latter more than the former,” Tristan said.

Magni’s eyes narrowed, white irises burning into Tristan’s face. “Who are you to cast stones, boy? Is your island free of Defiled? Economically prospering? Are your girls content with their daily lives?”

Tristan blinked. I could see his hands fidgeting beneath the table. But, to his credit, he never dropped Magni’s gaze. “I understand when it’s important to ask for help. Do you?”

“I do not require your help, boy. Don’t you see? You are the ones who have done everything in their power to manipulate and mutilate this island,” Magni snarled.

I’d had enough. “Because you refused to meet with us on equal terms. Instead of leaving your precious castle, you would rather murder us and our Parties. You’ve built an island where anyone that refuses to bend to your will must die.”

Magni raised his eyebrows, then laughed. “I have never heard such hypocrisy.”

“Silence! All of you!” Cailu bellowed. His deep voice echoed against the walls, and the room fell quiet. “Judgment of ruling methods and approaches aside, I need assistance from all of you in curbing the Defiled threat in Nyarlothep and reestablishing order on the islands. I will not always be here to continue this legacy, and it is high time for us to work together in this world.”

“And if we do not wish to help you with your… legacy?” Magni asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I’ve more important work to do here?”

“Then I will see you at dawn,” Cailu snapped. “My challenge stands.”

Magni looked incredulous. “Do you have such a grand death wish, Cailu?”

Cailu leveled his gaze. “What is your answer, Magni?”

“I have no use for other islands or Nyarlothep. They are not my burden to bear.” Magni pushed his throne back from the table and gestured for Eshe to step back. “A duel to the death, then, as you so desire.” He looked from me to Tristan. “If you are still in my sights when I am claimed victor, I will kill you both.”

I tensed, but the exhaustion stilled any comeback that I hoped to have. We watched Magni leave, and Eshe closed the door behind them.

“Cailu—” Naeemah began.

“Tristan, Matt,” Cailu interrupted. “I will write you both letters of recommendation for Queen Nehalennia. Should I not be available to join you to Nyarlothep, you must take them to her.”

“What?” Not join us? Was he really afraid of losing to Magni? “Cailu, seriously?”

Cailu nodded. “Magni has made it so that I cannot view his information in the iPaw. I must assume he is Third Class, which leaves no room for error.” He looked at Naeemah and Zahra. “This island and its people are promised to Naeemah. I ask you to retreat if the worst happens and find a way to return it to her.”

Naeemah snatched the butter knife from her plate setting and stabbed it into the table with a snarl. A chill ran down my spine as I watched it wobble back and forth. “You promised me, Cailu. Finish this, or I will never forgive you.”

A wry smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Both of you must reach Second Class as soon as possible. Do every Quest available to you and find your way to the Queen. Nyarlothep will fall without your aid. Do you understand me?”

With another frustrated growl, Naeemah stood and marched out of the room.

I wanted to fight him on it, but there was no reason. He’d made up his mind. It seemed Tristan understood, too. We replied, “Yes,” in unison.

“Thank you.” Cailu stood, the dark circles beneath his eyes a lot more evident in the candlelight. “Get some rest. This will all be over soon.”

 

Chapter 186: Ring of Death

Cailu’s sleep was fitful, at best. He watched as the last licks of flame perished beneath the charred wood in the fireplace. The letters of recommendation for Tristan and Matt lay sealed and stamped with the sun emblem insignia he’d adapted for himself in Nyarlea.

Naeemah tossed and turned in the bed next to his. At least twice, her eyes had snapped open, emeralds catching the firelight as she stared at Cailu with a haunting mixture of pain and anger. She felt betrayed, and rightfully so.

There were not enough words in any language to convey his frustration with this venture. This world. He’d spent so long carrying the expectations of the queen, of San Island, of the mysteriously sentient Ai. There were tomes and scrolls detailing Nyarlea’s renaissance—a time when the Defiled were well-managed and the men readily available to assist the capital.

Then, the capable men vanished. Repeatedly replaced with weak-willed, anserine fools that cowed in the face of difficulty. This was the closest he’d ever been to a revival of peace and restoration of trust. Tristan and Matt needed the training, but both understood the urgent necessity of their summit and were prepared to assume their roles within the Nyarlean system.

But Magni… Gods damned Magni.

The shuffling of blankets caught his attention. Naeemah swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She’d remained in her [Combat Mode] attire, despite reassurances that no harm would come to any of them. She marched around the footboard, then paused for a moment at the side of Cailu’s bed. With a deep breath, she pulled the blankets back and slipped beneath them, resting on one of the numerous excess pillows and searching for his eyes in the dark.

“It seems neither of us has managed to sleep,” he murmured. Noting Kirti’s steady breathing, he added, “Well, save for one of our number.”

“You cannot die to him, Cailu.” Her whisper was steady and sharp. “I will never forgive you.”

“My promise will be carried out by—”

“It’s not about your promise. The islands will crumble without you. I– …I will–” Her words trailed into an exhale as a tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.

“You ruled this island with unparalleled dignity and grace for over a decade. Alone, Naeemah. You do not need me to continue your monarchy.” Cailu bent his elbow, propping his head up on one fist. “One way or another, this island will be yours once more.”

“We have not come so far to see you dead at the hands of a tyrant,” she hissed.

“We are out of options and out of time. This was the only certain way to pass off the city to you. Even if I win, the situation may worsen before it improves. But you are more than capable of handling it.”

“Cailu.” Naeemah reached for his free hand, grasping it in hers. Her skin was smooth and warm, and the gesture brought a comfort he hadn’t expected. “I know you tire of this world. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your words. We so rarely have an opportunity to think or space to breathe. Even so, don’t let this be your last day in Nyarlea. Don’t let it be my final memory of you.”

Cailu found himself gently tracing the back of her hand with one thumb. An idle, mindless motion that he couldn’t recall doing in years.

Naeemah…

He wanted to promise her that the duel would go exactly as she wished—Magni dead and Cailu walking away unscathed. But fighting another person was much different than battling a mob of Encroachers or a Defiled. Without knowing his Class or Skills, he would have to deduce them on the spot. One wrong step could cost him the duel.

Kirti jerked to a sitting position without warning, her orange eyes peering out the window, then at Cailu. “It is time.”

Naeemah released his hand and slid from the blankets. She righted herself and marched to the door, disappearing into the hallway.

Cailu ran a hand through his hair, then pushed himself to sit.

Naeemah, I’m sorry.

Breakfast was a disquieting affair. Everyone picked at their meals in silence, most unable to bring themselves to eat. Cailu forced down two eggs and a mug of water—he would need the energy. Tristan and Matt exchanged worried glances while the girls kept their eyes on the table. Kirti seemed the only one at ease, taking her time with her meal and flashing anyone her token sardonic smile should they dare to look at her. Magni was not in attendance.

The duel was to be held in one of the many courtyards of the citadel. Once Cailu and the others had donned their [Combat Mode] attire, Aanya led the group outside, where a handful of First Shell catgirls were gathered around a large, glowing blue ring. One young woman stood on the outskirts—a [Priest] from the appearance of her garb—her eyes focused on the ring as a glimmering trail of magic shimmered from her staff.

“What is that?” Matt asked, pointing at the magic glow.

“It acts as a wall,” Cailu explained, stepping forward and laying his hand on the air just above the circle. As he expected, pressure stopped his palm from falling inside. He gave the invisible wall a few knocks with his knuckle.

“It absorbs magic, too,” Tristan added. He blushed when everyone looked at him in surprise. “I read about them. It’s safer for the spectators this way.”

Perhaps this world still stands a chance.

“Cailu, I pray you slept well?” Magni greeted in his booming voice. His resplendent gold armor clicked as he walked, stopping to stand next to Cailu.

“The workers in the citadel offer excellent hospitality, as always,” Cailu growled. “Their leadership has much to learn from them.”

Magni’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Let’s get this over with.” He slammed the visor of his helmet over his face and signaled for the [Priest] to drop the wall momentarily.

“Good luck, Cailu,” Matt said, extending a hand.

Cailu shook it, then handed him the two letters of recommendation. “Thank you, Matt.” With one last lingering look at Naeemah, Cailu turned and strode into the dueling ring.

Magni stopped fifty paces from where Cailu stood. The hunk of metal he shouldered could scarcely be called a greatsword. It was enormous, black and unwieldy, nicked and dented beyond reason. Cailu raised a brow and drew his dueling sword from the scabbard.

It had been years since Scorn had seen use, but it was just as beautiful as he remembered. Made with the finest steel Bells could afford, the sword was forged to perfection and enchanted by the most powerful [Arbiter] in all of Nyarlea. Augmenting every Spell in the [Paladin]’s arsenal, the [Arbiter] had claimed the sword her life’s work. Gems so clear you could see straight through them laid inside the hilt. Spirals of faded white and red colored the blade, swirling until they met at the sword’s tip.

With the blade's flat held toward him, Cailu rotated the weapon in search of imperfections. The edge was still razor sharp, catching the sun’s light as if it were forged just minutes ago. Cailu had never seen a finer sword in all his life.

The [Priest] gestured the two men to their positions. Fifty paces would separate them, as was Nyarlean custom. Both individuals were allowed to use whatever weapons or Spells they deemed appropriate.

For most duels, anything was fair game.

Magni threw his fist into the air, signaling to the [Priest] that his preparations were complete. Cailu leveled his gaze on the dark-eyed girl, mirroring Magni’s signal.

She nodded and motioned to a pair of flanking catgirls to kneel beside her. Maintaining the barrier was exhausting work, often requiring the assistance of others to help provide a steady pool of [Myana Points] to the [Priest].

Cailu drew a deep breath and readied himself into a fighting stance, one foot in front of the other, sword behind, shield in front.

“[Wall of Sanctity],” the [Priest] recited.

The barrier was up, the gauntlet thrown. All that was left was to put the dog down.

“[Invoke Gale]!” Magni swept his greatsword behind him as if it were weightless. A gust of wind kicked the sand around him up into the air, snaking its way around his weapon. As the Spell completed, Magni added, “[Tailwind]!” The twin sand cyclones wrapping around his weapon leaped to Magni, blanketing him like the eye of a hurricane.

[Tailwind] would significantly improve Magni’s attack and movement speed. These were [Magic Knight] Spells.

With his sword held in one hand behind him, Magni ran at Cailu with an ear-piercing battle cry, like a barbarian lusting for blood, the wind carrying him across the ground at an alarming speed.

“[Iron Wall]!” Cailu yelled as he raised his shield.

Magni came to a skidding halt, kicking sand toward Cailu and lifting his greatsword for an overhead swing. As Cailu raised his shield to block the blow, Magni spun on the spot and came at him from the right instead.

Damn!

The world slowed at that moment as Perception activated much earlier than Cailu preferred. There was no time to block the attack with his shield. He would have to put his sword in danger.

“[Protective Finish]!” Cailu cried in the world of slowed time. A flash of white swept over the blade as time returned to normal, and the greatsword made contact.

The sound of screeching metal echoed in the courtyard as the two weapons clashed. Cailu shifted his weight and used the force of the attack to spin away from Magni, steadying his posture. Magni continued his assault, swinging at Cailu’s left.

Cailu swung his shield against the oncoming strike, yelling, “[Disarmament]!”

The whites of Magni’s eyes flashed beneath his helmet as shield and sword clanged against one another. A loud hum followed, and Magni’s weapon soared into the air, crashing against the barrier before falling uselessly to the dirt.

Now was his chance. Cailu stepped forward and lunged for the slits of Magni’s helmet.

As Magni stepped to the side, Scorn’s tip found purchase inside the outermost hole, tearing the helmet from Magni’s head and sending it careening into the sand.

“[Cutting Wind]!” Magni screamed.

Cailu’s shield went up as a green beam of light erupted from Magni’s palm, piercing through the air and connecting with Cailu’s shield. The blast knocked him back several feet and threw him off balance. As he steadied himself, Magni sprinted to where his greatsword lay, and Cailu threw his shield and sword down beside him.

“[Call Arms]!” Cailu cried, his hand extended. The greatsword trembled slightly before rising into the air and flying toward him.

Magni grasped at the greatsword’s handle, missing it by mere inches. Fury twisted his features as he stretched his arm outward. “[Bind]!”

At last. There it was. A Skill that betrayed Magni’s primary Class. It would have been foolish to reveal both too early in their duel. However, there was but a single Class that could learn [Bind].

A portal as dark as a bottomless well opened between Cailu and Magni. Dozens of chains snaked out of the alternative dimension, coiling around the greatsword and pulling it inside. Moments later, another portal opened beside Magni, and the chains deposited the greatsword into his hand before retracting back inside. With a hum, the doorway disappeared, sparks of violet and crimson licking at the edges.

Magni bowed his head forward, allowing his hunk of steel to fall against the ground. Even at this distance, Cailu could feel the slight tremor it created.

“So now you know,” Magni growled. “It will do you no good.”

Cailu bent to retrieve his sword and shield. As he rose, the corner of his mouth twisted into a smile. “Then what are you waiting for?” He raised Scorn, pointing the tip at his opponent. “Or do you prefer to drivel like a child?”

“[Invoke Blaze]!” Magni bellowed a bloodcurdling roar, a great blaze erupting over his sword. “You think I don’t know what Sub-Class you use?” Magni closed the distance in seconds, jumping into the air with his sword held high. “[Scorching Fervor]!” The heat of the blaze grew tenfold, drawing beads of sweat from Cailu’s scalp.

There would be no avoiding this attack, Perception or not. With [Disarmament] on cool down, the best Cailu could do was increase his defenses as high as possible.

Cailu dropped to one knee and raised his shield, yelling, “[Bulwark]! [Mirror Shield]!”

The greatsword and shield met again, sending a deafening knell through the air as if someone had just struck a bell. Magni landed and pushed the weight of his sword against Cailu’s shield. Hungry flames lapped at Cailu’s body, stopped short by [Mirror Shield], and redirected to the surrounding pitch.

A ring of fire scorched the ground around them, and as Magni began to lift his weapon, Cailu pushed.

“[Shield Bash]!” For the second time, Cailu knocked Magni’s greatsword to the ground. With this momentum, he could not stop. He needed to put himself on the offensive. Cailu stepped forward, swiping his sword through the air at Magni’s face.

Magni hissed through gritted teeth as he stepped back, throwing a powerful kick toward Cailu.

Cailu refused to relent. “[Beheading Swipe]!” A screeching hum followed as Cailu stepped forward and whipped his shield through the air. The metal around the rim morphed to fine edges in the blink of an eye.

However, with [Tailwind] on his side, Magni managed to dodge his attack with inhuman speed. Instead, Cailu caught the man’s breastplate, ripping a gaping horizontal cavity into the unblemished gold.

Magni staggered backward, gasping for air and grasping at the metal. With the effects of [Tailwind] still behind him, he jumped away as if the winds carried him. As his fingers brushed against the fastenings of his breastplate, the metal fell to one side, hanging by its remaining strap.

“You fucking cretin,” Magni snarled.

“Ah, there’s the real Magni,” Cailu mocked. “Show everyone who you truly are.”

“I grow tired of your unmerited hubris,” Magni growled and ripped the strap off, tossing the plate to his right. Cailu saw a large cut across Magni’s shirt where a thin line of blood was forming. “I will defend my people.”

Cailu shook his head. “Still, you insist on playing the role of a benevolent king.” He brought the hilt of his sword level to his face, point held upward. Now that he knew what Class Magni was, he no longer had to hold back. He was done testing the waters. “[Incandescent Weapon].” The gems sparkled in response. White smoke rose from the blade’s edge like dozens of little threads, vanishing a few feet above the sword.

“[Open Gate],” Magni said, then repeated the Spell. Two black portals opened—one beside his discarded greatsword and the other to his immediate right. Without ever taking his eye off Cailu, Magni reached into the nearest portal. Cailu watched from a distance as Magni’s hand came through the exit, grabbing the greatsword and pulling it inside. With Magni’s sword back in his hands, he waved his arm through the air, murmuring, “[Bridge the Gap].” The two gates vanished, morphing into small violet-and-black orbs which flew toward Magni. He inhaled deeply as the spheres entered his chest.

Cailu settled into a fighting stance once more, breathing steadily. [Void Walker] was a Class that depended on its [Myana Points] and portals to get anything done. A defensive style was more appropriate if he wished to keep the upper hand. He prayed that his taunts had encouraged aggressive behavior.

“[Open Gate]!” Magni cried.

A portal began to open beneath Cailu’s feet. He rolled to his left, swiping his sword at the swirling blackness on his way. White light trailed from Scorn’s tip as it arced across the portal, dispelling Magni’s gate. A gut-wrenching shriek sounded from the dark void before it closed. The arc of light remained as Cailu shifted back to standing.

Magni frowned. “[Shadow Double]!”

Cailu turned around, swinging his sword across the chest of the Magni copy that was forming from Cailu’s shadow. The fiend given life screamed, its voice echoing against the dueling grounds like a banshee. Cailu looked over his shoulder to see Magni with his greatsword over one shoulder and the [Void Walker]’s signature chain wrapped around his other arm.

“[Bind]!” Magni cried.

The chains around Magni’s arm came to life, lunging for Cailu like dozens of snakes.

“[Mirror Shield]!” Cailu stepped forward, then dug his back foot into the dirt to brace for the impact. The chains clanged against his shield, reversing direction toward Magni.

“[Shadow Leap]!” With Magni’s command, a portal opened in front of him, the chains vanishing inside. Immediately after, another portal appeared beside Cailu, and Magni jumped through—the redirected chains wrapped securely around his wrist again—and swung the chains back out at Cailu, wrapping around his shield.

Magni pulled, ripping the shield away from Cailu and throwing it behind him.

Cailu reeled, hissing in breath and resetting his footing.

Magni laughed. “Leaving already?” He readied the chains, then unleashed them at Cailu once more.

Cailu staggered backward, cutting at the incoming chains. The light of Scorn vanquished the chains, sending them up into the air like wisps of smoke. Magni advanced, swinging his hunk of steel at Cailu’s side. Scorn pivoted to block the blow, rattling with the contact and sending a shudder throughout Cailu’s entire being.

“You’re mine!” Magni broke the clinch, stepping forward to kick Cailu square in the chest. The impact sent Cailu flying several feet. Magni easily closed the distance on foot with [Tailwind] for an overhead swing.

“[Call Arms]!” Cailu’s shield flew back to his arm, and he raised it to block the incoming blow.

“Hell take you, Cailu!” Magni bellowed. “[Umbral Blade]!” The greatsword’s disheveled form changed as if the weapon were shedding its skin. Chunks of iron and steel evaporated into thin air, revealing a serpentine-shaped sword of black underneath.

“It’s over.” Magni swung with all his might, and the ebony blade soared through the air.

Cailu screamed. The shield, his gauntlet—neither had managed to deflect the blow. Blood seeped through his armor, splattering his ornate silver plate. Magni continued his onslaught, and Cailu could feel the bones of his forearm splintering.

“How does it feel?” Magni whispered. “To know your life is at an end? To know everything you’ve worked for will disappear before your eyes?” A chuckle escaped his lips. “[Force of Will].” With Magni’s Spell, the weight of his blade increased.

“You tell me,” Cailu hissed. “[Martyr’s Vengeance].” At his command, an unassailable force blew Magni backward, forcing him to disengage. The greatsword separated from Cailu’s flesh, a sickening crack following. [Martyr’s Vengeance] offered an initial blast and Stat increases, but it would take more than that to keep Magni at bay.

Cailu rose to his feet, panting. “[Vanquish the Dark]!” He turned Scorn around and plunged it into the ground. A second wave pushed Magni farther back, and a cool breeze blew around the elf, enveloping him in white winds. The sleek ebony greatsword reformed into its initial decrepit appearance. Blessedly, the effects of [Vanquish the Dark] had begun to stop the bleeding. While the Spell could do nothing to mend bones, it kept the blood in his body.

“The devil is this?” Magni grunted, his eyes wide. “What have you done to my sword?”

Cailu leveled his gaze, ripping Scorn out and holding the blade’s point toward Magni. “Your Spell is forfeit.” He didn’t have much time, as [Vanquish the Dark] only afforded him a mere ten seconds of safety. With a trembling sword hand, Cailu brought Scorn close to his face and muttered, “[Burn the Wicked].”

Cailu’s vision narrowed as the stacks of Zealotry clouded his mind—a terrible side effect of [Burn the Wicked]. Each stack granted him Dexterity and Strength, and, in turn, Cailu was forced to fight against a slew of painful memories.

It was enough to drive a man insane.

His breath caught in his throat when the hallucination worsened. An intimately familiar woman and child appeared beside Magni. They were holding hands, smiling, and waving to Cailu. The corner of his mouth twitched in fury.

They are not real. Fera and Heiki are… they are gone. You will never see them again.

Cailu closed his eyes, breathing in and out. When he opened them, the ghosts of his past were gone. “[Searing Weapon]. [Aura Blade],” he snarled. Two ropes of light trailed the blade's edge—one red and the other white. When they joined at the tip, the blade split into two colors, and magic sparked where the colors collided in the center.

At last, the shield brought forth by [Vanquish the Dark] ended, and Magni ran toward Cailu, his blade underhanded. “[Burden the Foolish]!” he cried, his palm extended toward Cailu.

One of Magni’s portals appeared beneath him, immobilizing his feet and slowly pulling him inside. Cailu cursed under his breath. He had no way to dispel the portal. The effects of [Incandescent Weapon] were gone, and his remaining defensive tools on cool down.

While Magni’s attack limited his movements, Cailu could still shift his footing somewhat. He would have less than a second to perform the maneuver. If this did not work, then his life would be forfeit. Tossing the remnants of his shield to the ground beside him, he two-handed Scorn, and settled into a stance common among [Myrmidon]s—[Balance Stance]. He waited and prayed for the moment he needed.

Magni ended his charge and swung, the ragged edge of his greatsword aimed for Cailu’s throat.

“[Third Eye]!” Cailu screamed.

The world slowed, and Cailu saw where the weakest point of Magni’s greatsword was. Striking that point would grant Cailu the highest chance of success. Two finger lengths from the blade's hilt was the slightest flicker of blue-white light.

Now!

Time returned to its normal pace, and Cailu slashed his sword through the air, creating an arc of fire before him. Like a hot knife through butter, the sword and the flame engulfing it streaked through the greatsword, severing blade from hilt. The blade clamored against Cailu’s pauldron before falling to the pitch.

With Magni trapped in his momentum, Cailu thrust his good fist upward, uppercutting the man in the jaw. Magni yelped and reeled backward, flailing as blood stained his teeth and gushed from his mouth. With his concentration broken, the sinkhole caused by [Burden of the Foolish] vanished, and Cailu was back on his feet.

“Let’s finish this,” Cailu growled.

“[Gate to the Shroud],” Magni spat, sanguine droplets pooling in the dirt. A pale green portal appeared before him.

Cailu immediately recognized the Spell. The user could escape into the portal for twenty-four hours, allowing them to recover. It was the second time Cailu had witnessed its utilization, and he would be damned if another person escaped.

“Coward!” Cailu bellowed, throwing Scorn into the portal.

Magni stepped back and watched in horror as the portal turned white for a split second before shattering like glass. “This can’t be—”

Cailu charged Magni and punched him square in the face. Magni stumbled, and Cailu threw another, and another, and another. Magni’s face began to bruise and break under the combined might of [Burn the Wicked] and [Martyr’s Vengeance], and spittles of blood speckled the sand around them. At last, the dragon fell to his knees, gasping for air, his arm held out.

“S-stop!” Magni pleaded.

Cailu stood over the man, casting a shadow over him. “Your reign ends here.”

“No.” Magni covered his face. “It can’t end like this.”

Cailu shoved him backward with the sole of his plated shoe. “[Divine Retribution].” He held out his hand, and a flash of white blanketed the area. A loud ringing permeated the air, rippling and distorting every sound passing through, and then a second later, a beam with enough light to rival the sun shot out from Cailu’s palm, barreling its way through Magni’s chest.

The smell of burning flesh rose from what remained of Magni’s mangled heart. The fallen king reached out and gripped Cailu’s wrist, tears staining his cheeks. As the light faded from his eyes, he spoke a single word. “B-book.”

The strength of his grip faded, and his arm fell to the side.

Magni was dead.

 

​

Side Quest: Ceres and the Sword of Virtues

Ceres sat at an ornate dining table, her hands clasped in her lap. An old grandmother clock stood against the wall of the opposite room, its pendulum swinging and its hands clicking. To date, Amy had never been late. If anything, she had a tendency to be too early.

Ceres shuffled the nails of her thumbs to alleviate the anxiety in her chest.

A nearby door clicked open, and Ceres turned toward the noise. A catgirl with short pink hair and a red ribbon behind her left ear shut the door quietly behind her. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she strode toward Ceres at a brisk pace.

The grandmother clock rang just as Amy took a chair beside Ceres, lifting it slightly so as not to damage the chair or the floor. Ceres adjusted her seat so that the two of them faced each other.

“Looks like I made it just on time!” Amy said, giggling.

“Y-yes,” Ceres said, a portion of her anxiety vacating.

Amy put one hand over the other in her lap and tilted her head with curious ruby eyes. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

Ceres took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “I am considering the possibility that I may join the Knights of Sorentina.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness!” She put a hand on top of Ceres’. “Truly?”

Ceres nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Well, you simply must go! You have my full support!” Amy grinned.

“Thank you, Amy.” Ceres curled an errant strand of her short blonde hair around her finger. With each passing second, her father’s face seemed to occupy more of her idle thoughts and decisions. It had been six years since he’d signed her away to the Venicia School of Etiquette and two years since his final missive. Yet, somehow, she could recall his features and disposition as if she had seen him only yesterday.

“This is about your dad, isn’t it?”

“Am I so transparent?”

“That’s what friends are for.” Amy squeezed Ceres’ hand. “Hey, he would be really proud of you if he were still with us. You should seek your dream out, Ceres.”

“I wish… not to betray his expectations,” Ceres said through a forced laugh.

“I think you soared above his expectations,” Amy said with an easy smile. “Most kittens don’t even know who their dad is. You were one of the lucky ones.” She rubbed her thumb against Ceres’ skin. “His actions were not those of a man who didn’t care. They were those of a man who wanted everything for his daughter. I’m sure he would agree if he were still with us.”

Ceres fought back the tears that built in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am sure you are correct.”

“Come on! You’re sixteen! You have so much going for you!” Amy performed an arm pump. “The Knights of Sorentina would be lucky to have you! Besides, I’ve seen how you handle that broom. You swing it like it’s a weapon.”

Ceres’ cheeks grew hot. “I… did not know anyone had seen that.”

“Nothing gets past me. You know that.”

“Thank you, Amy.” Ceres bowed at the neck. “For everything.”

“H-hey! Don’t say your goodbyes yet! Surely you’re not leaving already!”

---

Ceres spent days acquiring any letter of recommendation she could find. Every submission was another voice, another chance the Knights of Sorentina would acknowledge her. Any who had joined the knights swore to lead a life of honor and respect. Denying her entry would be akin to denying the instructors of their position. Thankfully, not a single person rejected her request. By the time she finished, she had accrued six letters.

The months that followed were the most stressful in all her life. Every day held dreams of becoming a [Magic Knight]. Visions of standing proud in her armor, protecting those who could not defend themselves. As she waited, she spent the passing days practicing motions she had learned from a book about combat with her trusty broom.

Ceres knew little of blacksmithing, but at least she knew how to tie a shaped rock to the broken end of a broomstick. She originally had her heart set on a greatsword, but with no blacksmiths in town, her only option would be to order one from Sorentina—an expensive commitment for one whose job security was dubious at best. Her tuition would also need to be paid, assuming she was accepted.

So, for practice, a spear would do.

The weight, the balance, the motions, all of it felt natural to her—as if this was what she was meant to do. Day after day, she spent her time in the courtyard, spinning, twirling, pivoting, anything she could teach herself from one book and a handful of sketches.

It was a cold morning when a voice grabbed Ceres’ attention.

“Ceres!” Amy cried from behind her.

Ceres spun her spear to her side with the point held downward. She let out a slow, steady breath, looking over her shoulder at her friend.

“Something came in the mail for you!”

Ceres’ breath caught. Her heart began to pound against her chest. Service. Grace. Urgency. Always a lady.

It was no good. Ceres broke into a jog, unable to contain her excitement, and ran to Amy. Her friend held out the yellowed envelope with a big smile, and Ceres took it with trembling hands. She turned the letter over, admiring the red wax seal—a pair of crossed swords held before a flame. Her mouth dry, Ceres broke the seal and retrieved the letter.

She read it aloud.

“‘To Lady Ceres of Venicia. A most curious letter arrived on my desk a month ago. It seems that the Venician school of etiquette has taken an interest in offering us one of its most talented students. Its contents told of a woman of unparalleled virtue and stoicism. A woman who was not afraid to strengthen not only her mind but her body and spirit as well.’” Ceres cocked her head back, and a snowflake landed on the tip of her nose.

“Keep reading, keep reading!” Amy encouraged.

“Right.” Ceres cleared her throat. “‘I must say, I am most impressed with your record. You seem a fine woman with the proper understanding of what is expected of a knight. It is for this reason that we invite you to join the Knights of Sorentina. One of my [Magic Knight]s will be there in seven days to escort you to Sorentina. Please follow the instructions below. Do not be tardy. Signed, Lady Emersyn, [Magic Knight] of Sorentina.’”

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” Amy gripped Ceres’ wrists and jumped up and down. “You did it! You did it! You got accepted!”

Ceres was dumbfounded. Then, slowly, a smile overwhelmed her. Soon, she and Amy were hopping up and down, thrilled about the future.

---

Ceres’ farewell proved to be a bigger deal than she had anticipated. There had to have been at least a few dozen girls who wished her a safe trip. They crowded around the [Magic Knight]’s cart, eliciting a few snippy remarks from the knight.

“W-w-will you come back soon?” Amy asked, her face red from crying. “I-I’m going to miss you!”

Ceres offered her a sweet smile. “I will return. You have my promise. On my honor as a future [Magic Knight].” Admittedly, she was unsure when she would be allowed to return. While the school supposedly offered the girls short vacations, Ceres was aware of the rumors surrounding the knights. It could be a long time before she returned. “Become a great [Wizard], Amy. I have the utmost faith in you.”

“T-thanks, Ceres.” Amy hugged her friend for the fifth time that morning, drenching her apron in tears. “I’ll do my best on San Island,” she said muffledly.

“I know you will,” Ceres said, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. She ran her fingers through Amy’s hair, and for one brief moment, Ceres wanted to join in the sobbing.

There will be time for that later, she reminded herself.

“It’s time,” said the [Magic Knight]. “Come.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ceres said, nodding. She and Amy parted, and Ceres sat on the wagon next to the armored catgirl. The wagon began to move, and Ceres waved.

She only stopped waving when she could no longer see Amy.

---

Seven days later, Ceres arrived at the Sorentina keep. It was a structure of incredible majesty. Women dressed in black and white garbs similar to Ceres marched their way around the building, silver plates of armor held firm against their bodies. Flashes of fire and ice drew Ceres’ attention, her stare lingering longer than was proper.

Two catgirls who bore breastplates over their maid attire came down the main staircase, curtsying before her. “We have been awaiting your arrival, Lady Ceres,” said the catgirl on the left.

“Please follow us,” said the one on the right.

“Thank you,” said Ceres.

The girls led Ceres up the stone staircase, past the portcullis, and into the main hall. Lush, red carpets embroidered with threads of gold lay upon black marble floors. Chandeliers made of crystal hung from the ceiling while a nearby catgirl snapped her fingers, igniting the wick of the candles. Ceres had to practice constant self-control whenever something caught her eye.

This place was everything Ceres had expected and more.

The knights escorted Ceres up a pair of spiral staircases and into the center room on the second floor. Several others briskly strode past them, platters of food perched on their palms. She listened as the girls in the kitchen to her left barked orders.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Understood, ma’am!”

The knights gestured to a door opposite the long hallway. “You are to refer to her as Lady Captain at all times. Is that understood?” said the one on the left.

“Yes. I understand,” said Ceres.

“Good. Go on in. She’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” said Ceres. Drawing a deep breath, she turned the knob of the dark wood door and pushed it open.

A catgirl in stunning armor halted her pacing upon Ceres’ entrance. She bore striking red hair tied into a long ponytail and eyes of emerald.

“Take a seat. Close the door behind you.” She gestured to a chair in front of her desk.

“Yes, Lady Captain,” Ceres said. The door clicked behind her as she shut it. Taking great care to remember her etiquette lessons, Ceres gracefully settled into the chair, her back straight and with one hand clasped over the over in her lap.

The captain hummed. “Your etiquette is refined.” The woman took the seat opposite, mirroring her posture. “You are the one they call Ceres, are you not?”

Ceres nodded. “Yes, I am Ceres of Venicia.”

“My name is Aline. However, you are to continue referring to me as Lady Captain. Is that understood?”

“I understand, Lady Captian.”

“Excellent. Do you have any experience in combat, Ceres?”

Ceres wished to be honest. “My knowledge is somewhat middling. Most techniques I have learned have been self-taught from books.”

“We will need to change that immediately. It is good that you come from the school of etiquette. That saves us a step in your training.” Aline’s tone was flat, almost cold. There was an air of shrewdness surrounding her. Ceres could not help but feel that Aline spent every glance, every second, managing and observing any inflections in Ceres’ voice or movement. It left her feeling uneasy and vulnerable. “Do you know of your affinity?”

No. Ceres thought back to when she was a kitten, and the other girls picked on her. At the time, she had been able to use ice-related spells. They were parlor tricks at best but promising ones for one as young as she was.

“I do not,” said Ceres. “However, I am of the belief that I lean toward the element of ice.”

Aline raised a brow. “My, that is a rare one. Most of my girls lean toward fire or earth.” She cocked her head to the side, her gaze resting on an oil painting on the wall. “I can think of only one woman suited to teach you.” She pulled open a drawer on her right.

“My apologies for causing undue distress,” Ceres said, bowing her head.

“Hardly. Pray, allow me one moment.” Pulling out a piece of stained paper, she dipped a quill in a nearby ink bottle and began to write.

Ceres’ gaze wandered to the numerous paintings on the wall. Her lessons in Venicia allowed her to identify the many strokes and techniques used by the painters. As she scanned the room, a watercolor painting of a ship at sea caught her attention. It depicted a man in tattered clothes, standing atop the foremast before an enormous Defiled with dozens of tentacles. She could not help but wish to jump into the painting and combat the evil alongside him.

“Here you are,” said Aline.

Ceres’ attention snapped back to her captain. She extended a folded piece of paper before her. “Take this to Lady Giselle. She will see to it that you are properly trained.”

Ceres’ eyes lit up. “Thank you so much. Where is she now?”

“Go back to the main hall and take the door on your right. That will lead you to the courtyard. That is where our knights train.”

“You have been most gracious, Lady Captain,” Ceres said, bowing again.

“As have you. You are dismissed.”

Ceres carefully rose to her feet, gripping her hands tightly against her belly to hide the shaking. Goodness, was she excited to begin her training. With the letter held flat against her stomach, Ceres exited the room, offering one last bow before she departed—as was expected of a subordinate. When she acknowledged no one else was around, she grinned and squealed quietly to herself.

At last, it was time.

When Ceres arrived in the courtyard, she counted dozens of crosses adorned with thatch bags. Each bag had been stuffed with hay and painted, offering each knight an opponent of equal size.

“Excuse me,” Ceres said to a passing catgirl. She looked new, as she bore no armor and was littered with pocks of dirt and sweat. Despite that, she still carried herself with the grace expected of a Knight of Sorentina. “Where might I find Lady Giselle?”

The catgirl clicked her tongue, then pointed over her shoulder. “The one standing behind the girls there. White hair, blue eyes. Can’t miss her.” Without so much as a goodbye, the catgirl quickened her pace and returned to the main hall behind them.

Goodness, I hope she is alright.

With apprehension in her breast, Ceres approached the woman, stopping a few feet from her. “Excuse me.”

The woman raised a hand to silence her. “Put your back into it! You’re not bringing plates of food to a man; you’re striking with the intent to kill! So, kill!”

“Yes, ma’am!” the girls cried back.

She turned toward Ceres with a raised brow. “What is it? I haven’t got all day, so make this quick.”

Ceres extended the letter. “You are Lady Giselle, are you not?”

“I am.” She rolled her eyes as she took the letter from Ceres. “Another would-be [Magic Knight], huh?” Unfolding the letter, she began to read its contents.

Ceres was unsure what would be proper to say, so she chose to remain silent.

“I see,” Giselle said. She crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire pit behind her, where a pot of stew was cooking. “Don’t think that just because you might have an affinity for ice that it somehow makes you special. I’m going to grind you into the dirt. And you are to refer to me as Lady Commander. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lady Commander. I understand.” Ceres bowed at the waist.

“Good. Stay here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ceres nodded, glancing at the lady commander as she disappeared inside the building. As she waited, she observed the girls training. They all wore outfits like Ceres’, though many were not wearing armor. Their swings were uniform, and judging from the expressions on their faces, they were struggling. One of the dummies was missing a training partner, and Ceres surmised it had belonged to the girl who passed her by.

The door behind her clicked open. Giselle made her way back onto the courtyard, standing before Ceres with two closed fists in front of her.

“In case you’re unaware, [Magic Knight]s are unable to conjure lightning and water.” Giselle opened her left hand to reveal three diamond-shaped stones. “Only as a Third Class, an [Arbiter], will you have access to these Spells. You will struggle fiercely if your affinity lies in one of those two areas.” She opened her right hand to reveal three more stones. “Most catgirls have a primary and secondary affinity. Let us hope you’re attuned to ice as you claim you may be.” She plucked a yellow stone from the group with one gauntleted hand, pouring the remaining stones into her other hand. “Do you know how to manage your Myana?”

“I do,” said Ceres.

“This will be a quick process, then.” Giselle placed the stone in Ceres’ hand. “Close your hand around the stone and focus on pouring a small bit of Myana into it.”

Ceres shut her eyes and held the stone close to her chest. Breathing slowly and steadily, she experienced a strange sensation like dozens of little pins poking into her skin.

“I can sense it. Open your hand,” said Giselle.

Ceres opened her hand, palm upright, so that Giselle could see it.

“Not the glow we would expect. It seems earth is your secondary affinity.”

Ceres gasped. “Did you know that would happen?”

“I figured it likely. In most cases, those who have used ice-related magic gravitate toward water or earth. Consider yourself lucky you didn’t land in the former.” Giselle gestured for the rock. “Hand it here.” Ceres placed the rock back in the lady commander’s hand. “Now for the real test.” She snatched a blue-white stone from the bunch and gave it to Ceres.

The effect was instantaneous. Before the rock had even touched Ceres’ skin, it began to glow and vibrate between Giselle’s fingers. The light pulsated, humming as if charged with lightning.

Giselle frowned. “Interesting.” Collecting the stones into her one hand, Giselle slid them into the [Cat Pack] around her waist, folding her arms. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Ceres, was it?”

“Y-yes,” Ceres stammered.

“Grab a weapon.” Giselle flicked her head to a rack of wooden training weapons on her right. “The sooner we start, the better.”

---

Four years had passed since Ceres began her training. Giselle was ruthless, cunning, noble. Everything Ceres wanted in a mentor and more. For the most part, that is. Ceres felt her tone and word choice could use some work, but it was never more than a thought. Speaking ill of your commander was a fine way to end up on kitchen duty.

Amy’s letters of encouragement always soothed the sting of the difficult days. Her dearest friend was doing well for herself on San Island, her [Wizard] training proceeding as planned. They would both achieve their dreams. Ceres mused of their reunion, hoping it would come sooner than later.

“Are you prepared for the ceremony?” Sheerie asked, jogging in place. Most likely to calm her nerves. She and Ceres had become close friends during their time in Sorentina. Ceres felt she could trust her with her life.

“I believe I am,” Ceres said.

The door to the common room swung open. In the doorway was Nora, a high-ranking [Magic Knight] clad in gold armor laden with jewels of every color imaginable. The armor was ceremonial and unfit for combat.

“It’s time,” Nora announced.

Sheerie halted her jogging and made her way over to stand beside Nora. “I’m ready,” said Sheerie. She gestured for Ceres to follow. “Let’s do this.”

Ceres rose from the bottom bunk bed, smiling. “Let’s.”

There was a strict rule for the ceremony hall. Only those who were [Magic Knight]s could enter. The one exception was the [Magic Knight] initiation. Getting caught in this hall as a trainee was grounds for exile from the Knights of Sorentina.

The hall was just as large and grand as Ceres had pictured. Unlike the red and black themes seen throughout the keep, the room was constructed from white marble. A rug of royal blue stretched from one side of the room up to a narrow table adorned with a white tablecloth, where a single silver sword lay at its center—the Sword of Virtues.

Lady Aline approached Ceres and the other initiates, bowing at the neck while the initiates bowed at the waist—a common courtesy granted to those of higher ranking.

“Pray, follow me,” Lady Aline gestured.

Lady Aline's was the most ornately decorated of all the knights Ceres had seen up until now. While the others wore gold armor similar to Nora’s, Lady Aline wore silver. Her cape bore the same deep blue color as the rug beneath her feet, granting her an almost queenly presence.

If anyone in their number could be named the queen’s protector, it would be Aline.

The ten would-be [Magic Knight]s followed Aline to the table. Upon it rested the Sword of Virtues—a blade every [Fighter] had enchanted to get where Aline, Giselle, and the many other [Magic Knight]s were today. The weapon sat upon a bed of black pebbles. Gemstones sparkled inside the sword’s hilt, and the light of the flickering candles cast a spellbinding glow upon the faces of the knights.

“I will call your name, one by one,” began Lady Aline. “When I do, approach the table and retrieve the sword. Call upon the Invoke Spell of your choice. The Spell will succeed if the sword finds you worthy of becoming a [Magic Knight]. If not, we must ask you to continue another year of training.” All eyes were on Lady Aline, the shared tension in the room palpable. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Captain,” Ceres and the others recited in unison.

“Excellent.” Lady Aline unfurled the scroll in her hand and began to call out the names.

Only two of the six girls who had approached the altar had been found worthy by the sword. Ceres had expected to see tears from the ones who had failed. Instead, they remained stoic and forthright. As a knight should.

“Lady Sheerie,” Lady Aline called next.

Sheerie looked at Ceres, eyes wide with anxiety.

“You can do it. I have the utmost faith in you,” said Ceres.

Sheerie’s teeth chattered. “Right. Okay. I can do this.” With steady steps, Sheerie ascended the stairs and approached the sword. Pulling back the hood of her white cloak, she reached for the handle and held the point upward. Seconds passed. “[Invoke Blaze]!” she said, raising the sword as high as she could. Flames erupted from the sword's hilt, coiling around the blade like a pair of snakes. As the ropes of fire joined at the tip, the blaze roared to life, engulfing the edge.

The girls clapped, and as Sheerie brought the sword down to eye level, the flame subsided in size, reaching a point of stability.

“Congratulations, Lady Sheerie,” Lady Aline said with a gentle smile. “You have advanced to [Magic Knight].”

The flame disappeared, and Sheerie set the sword down. The pebbles shifted from the weight, and with the dignity of a Sorentina [Magic Knight], Sheerie descended the stairs, taking her place beside Ceres.

“Lady Ceres,” said Lady Aline. “Please approach the altar.”

Ceres swallowed the lump in her throat and ascended the stairs next. Just as Sheerie had, Ceres removed the hood of her cloak before the Sword of Virtues. The blade was infinitely more intimidating up close than it was from afar. Jewels caught every hint of light that touched them, creating a dancing prism of colors against Ceres’ alabaster skin.

Ceres reached for the sword with trembling fingers and mirrored Sheerie’s prior gesture.

Saoirse. If you are watching, please grant me the strength to protect the weak.

Ceres raised the sword into the air. “[Invoke Frost]!”

An ephemeral gust blew past Ceres. Wisps of blue swirled around the blade, ascending to the point. As the wisps rose higher and higher, tiny flakes of snow and ice manifested within the air, moving toward the sword as if it were a magnet. The air around her grew colder, and the flakes and shards grew larger around the blade. A second gust of wind came, only this time it erupted from where she stood. She shut one eye and squinted the other.

Then, as if the temperature had never descended, the room's warmth returned. Ceres opened her eyes, delighted to see a blue-white aura had surrounded the sword. As she moved it from side to side, the particles within sparkled. It was beautiful.

“Congratulations, Lady Ceres,” said Lady Aline. “You have advanced to [Magic Knight].”

 

Chapter 187: Fair and Square

Magni crumbled to the side in a heap of blood and viscera. Cailu’s final Spell had seared his insides, and his face bore an empty horror that twisted my stomach. As I’d watched them fight, a sobering realization dawned on me.

There would have been no way in hell that we could have taken Magni down. Not me, not Tristan, not the combined force of both of our parties.

Third Classes were in a league of their own. Every Spell cast, portal opened, and Skill utilized would have crushed us a dozen times over. The look of astonishment on Tristan’s face as the battle raged on said he felt the same.

The clashes and clangs still rang in my ears as I turned to say as much. However, a grinning Kirti caught my eye. She balanced three polished stones between her fingers, all glowing with a potent light. The [Witch Doctor] caught me staring, and her malevolent smile widened, bright, sharp teeth illuminating her face.

“It seems a man’s soul holds an incredibly potent Essence,” she purred.

Cannoli jerked forward, and Ravyn caught her wrist.

I stepped between them, holding an arm out to shield them, and narrowed my gaze. “Put your rocks away, Kirti.”

“You are evil!” Cannoli shrieked. “Hell will welcome you with open arms!”

“Of that I pray,” Kirti replied, sliding the stones into her pack.

“Cannoli, let’s go inside,” Ravyn insisted.

“Evil!” Cannoli repeated, tugging against Ravyn’s hold.

“Come on. We should check on Buttons, remember?” Ravyn said calmly.

“She’s right. We can rest now,” Keke added, stepping forward to take Cannoli’s hand. “We’ll all go inside.” Keke leveled my gaze, and I gave her a slight nod. I could meet them inside.

Tears bubbled over Cannoli’s eyes. She fretted at her lip but finally gave in to Ravyn and Keke’s suggestion, turning to head back inside the citadel.

“Kirti—” I started.

“I will not filter every word I speak, boy,” Kirti hissed. “Your [Acolyte]’s fragile beliefs are not for me to fix.” She crossed her arms and shifted to face the evaporating [Wall of Sanctity]. “Besides, we have more to concern ourselves with than Cannoli’s inadequacies.”

I wanted to argue with her, but she was right.

“The duel is Cailu’s,” the head [Priest] announced, gesturing to the [Paladin]. “It shall be recorded and submitted to Queen Nehalennia with our blessing.” Turning to the crowd, she spread her arms wide and announced with a shaking voice, “Per the conditions set by our ancestors, Rājadhānī’s future is in Cailu’s hands.”

The two dozen or so girls that had crowded around the ring converged into its center. A handful were tearful, the rest flush with surprise. One woman hung on the outskirts, then fell to her knees and retched onto the dirt.

Aanya, the white-haired girl who acted as our hostess, stepped forward, her light eyes wide. “What will become of us?”

Cailu rested his hand on the small of Naeemah’s back, exchanged a long, unreadable glance with the [Assassin], then stepped backward.

Naeemah took center stage, her back straight and chin held high. Her posture and mannerisms were perfect, befitting of a noblewoman. “I will take King Magni’s place,” she proclaimed. “However, before I speak to you of politics and plans, it is important to take time to mourn.”

I blinked. Mourn that asshole?

But, as soon as the words left her mouth, more tears streaked the onlooker’s faces. Shoulders shook with grief, and the few kittens in attendance clung with their faces hidden against their mother’s skirts.

Naeemah’s tone softened. “I know many of you had close, personal relationships with the king, and this will be a difficult adjustment. We will honor him with a burial ceremony befitting his station and a period of bereavement. Then, and only then, will we move forward together.”

“Can we… can we go home?” a golden-haired kitten asked with shimmering eyes.

“Yes. You can all go home.” Naeemah nodded. “Nothing inside of Rājadhānī’s walls will bring you harm.”

Two young women turned heel and stalked back to the citadel, faces twisting in anger. Two more followed. Just when I thought they were all ready to walk out on their new queen, Eshe stepped forward and bent on one knee.

“Lady Naeemah,” Eshe began, bowing her head. “I pray you can forgive me for my misguided decisions. If you find them unpardonable, please return me to the sands.” She licked her lips. “If you choose to accept me for all of my faults, allow me to be the first to welcome you home.”

Naeemah leaned forward and took Eshe’s hand, gently assisting her back to standing. “I’ve missed you, Eshe.”

Eshe beamed through trails of tears, then encircled Naeemah in a tight embrace.

The remaining girls followed Eshe’s lead, bending to one knee and awaiting Naeemah’s greeting. Cailu nodded, then turned and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Let us leave her to it.” He gestured to Tristan, Kirti, and Zahra. “We can regroup inside.”

He marched toward the citadel, and Tristan joined me in watching him go. Something was off—the way he carried himself was different. I was having a hard time placing it.

“It killed me to leave Ara behind,” Tristan murmured. “I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.”

No way. I crossed my arms over my chest. “He sees catgirls like tools. It was one of the first things he said to me.”

Tristan shook his head. “Everyone protects themselves a little differently, Matt.” He shrugged. “Maybe there’s more there than you think.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” I had to admit, Tristan’s knack for reading people hadn’t steered us wrong yet. Though, in Kirti’s words, we had bigger things to worry about. “Let’s go inside.”

Ravyn, Cannoli, and Keke had vanished inside the halls of the Citadel. I guessed they’d gone back to the guest wing to give Cannoli some time away from Kirti. Cailu, Tristan, Zahra, and I sat at the enormous dining table while Kirti worked on Cailu’s arm. Much like Cannoli, her healing regimen was a mixture of magic, tinctures, and potions.

I really need to get back to Alchemy.

It seemed in Nyarlea that potions weren’t the end all be all to healing. I remembered a lot of games I’d played that I could tank a mob of baddies as long as I spammed the thousands of potions in my inventory. But here, the effects were slow and sometimes uncomfortable. Stomach aches, headaches, and hallucinations, if Ravyn was to be believed. Even with Kirti’s magic and knowledge in Alchemy, once she’d finished wrapping his arm in clean bandages, she fashioned him a sling.

Cailu looked at her with incredulous disdain. “I must wear that?”

“The bone was splintered and fractured into a dozen pieces. You are lucky to keep it,” Kirti growled, hooking the sling around his neck. “This will keep you from using it. Unless, of course, you want to lose all control of your hand.”

“This is… primitive,” Cailu grumbled, resting the arm in the sling.

“Healing takes time, foolish man. All your years in this place, and you have yet to learn something so fundamental?” Kirti flicked his forehead.

Cailu scowled. “I had heard as such from lesser healers. Perhaps I overestimated your capabilities.”

“And I yours.” Kirti’s wry smile returned. “Should you not have returned from your duel unscathed?”

“...Witch,” Cailu murmured under his breath.

Zahra leaned into the table, clasping her hands and staring wistfully at Cailu. “It was an honor to witness your use of the [Myrmidon] Class, Cailu.”

“It is an excellent pairing for [Paladin],” Cailu replied, testing the sling’s range of movement.

Kirti struck him on the shoulder. “Stop moving it.”

Tristan chuckled. “What Third Class were you thinking of taking, Zahra?”

Zahra’s expression brightened. “[Samurai]. It has been my dream for some time.”

Cailu nodded in approval. “Not as fast as [Assassin], but [Samurai] will still perform well with our Party composition.”

“That is wonderful to hear you say.” Zahra beamed. “I will—”

“Matt,” Keke appeared in the dining hall’s doorway, breathless. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Everything okay?” I stood, my pulse racing.

She studied my expression and nodded. “Cannoli and Ravyn are fine. But there’s something all of you will want to see.”

“Okay. Lead on.”

We all rose from the table and followed Keke across the castle. She led us through more hallways and furnished rooms before stopping at a polished door designed exactly like the one that led to the dueling courtyard.

“I was exploring the castle to get a better idea of the layout, and I wanted to see what was in the other courtyards.” Keke grabbed the handle and pushed it open. “This one is… well, you’ll see.”

For a brief instant, the sunlight blinded me. A chorus of growls, snarls, roars, and hisses plugged my ears as I blinked away the white spots in my vision.

“Woah,” Tristan murmured.

Understatement of the year. Humongous cages with golden bars lined the courtyard walls, and each one was packed with Encroachers of a different species. Feline, reptilian, and winged roaches paced, gnawed, and screamed inside their enclosures. And with them, miniature versions of themselves picking at food bins and lapping at water dishes.

“Was Magni… breeding Encroachers?” I asked aloud.

Cailu laughed. Not the high-and-mighty laugh he reserved for when I said something stupid. A real laugh. “That bastard.”

“What?” I asked. What am I missing here?

“Magni could Level and practice any Class he wanted to without ever leaving the citadel,” Tristan deduced, stepping into the courtyard. “This is a literal Experience farm.”

Kirti rolled her eyes and went back inside. Keke frowned and shook her head, and Zahra joined Tristan in getting a better look at the Encroachers.

“Tristan. Matt,” Cailu said, his laugh diminished. “Your training begins now.”

 

Chapter 188: Durga Yantra

The courtyard was large enough to give Olympic-sized swimming pools a run for their money. Tristan could think of no single room in the citadel that matched the courtyard’s colossal span. The snarls and snapping of the Encroachers shook him of the reverie.

“Training?” Tristan asked.

“Yes.” Cailu furrowed his brow. “If the two of you are to become proper protectors, then we must expedite the process. Appear, iPaw.” The device fell into Cailu’s hand, and the man awkwardly perused the screen with a single hand and thumb.

Tristan briefly remembered his grandfather trying to navigate modern cell phones with both hands.

“Level 22.” Cailu’s gaze landed on Tristan. “Have you settled on the Second Class you wish to advance to?”

“M-maybe [Wizard]?” It sounded right the first time he’d said it, but seeing how Ravyn worked her Spells, Tristan had his doubts. Her lessons had proven invaluable on their journey, and he tried to imagine what Desiree might become if he advanced to [Sorcerer] instead. “I need more information first. What are the differences between them?”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Cailu’s mouth. “[Wizard] had many tools in its arsenal. It specializes in overwhelming its enemies with the elements. It should be noted, however, that they require front-line support to perform adequately. Many of their Spells take a considerable amount of time to cast.”

Tristan bowed his head and put a finger to his lips in thought. With Zahra joining Cailu, that limited his options.

“You, on the other hand,” Cailu said, looking at Matt, “are still Level 9. With a single Level separating you from Second Class, it is paramount we rectify the issue of your competence in combat.”

“Yeah, I know,” Matt said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been meaning to get to it. Just a lot going on.”

“What do you know of [Sorcerer]?” Tristan asked, hoping to deflect criticism away from Matt.

Cailu blinked. “It does not have the potent force of a [Wizard], electing for support and control in more areas than the [Wizard] offers.” He cracked his neck from one side to the other. “Did Ravyn not tell you this?”

“N-no, she did. I just, uh, wanted to hear it from a man who’s been around for a long time,” Tristan said quickly.

“Hmm.” Cailu dismissed his iPaw, then walked past Tristan and Matt. “I’m going to locate the one responsible for this pen.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Keke offered as she moved to stand in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m sure you don’t want Kirti to catch you walking around more than you should.”

Cailu sighed. “So be it. But be quick about it.” Keke saluted as she left, and Cailu turned around to face Tristan and Matt. “Let us discuss some qualities the two of you lack while we await her return.”

“Like what?” Tristan asked.

“What do you know of Subclassing?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, nothing.”

“Yeah, not a lot, admittedly.” Tristan remembered seeing maybe a sentence or two in a history book, but the memory was foggy.

“As expected. Upon reaching Second Class, you may select another Class to act as your secondary.” Cailu stepped forward and stood between Tristan and Matt, lowering his iPaw so both of them could see. Tristan’s eyes widened at the sight before him. Cailu’s Stats were every bit as fearsome on the screen as they had been in the heat of battle. “[Myrmidon] is a fine Class for dueling. Thus I selected it for my fight against Magni.”

“Do you have any other Third Classes?” Tristan asked.

Cailu nodded. “[Templar].”

“Why not subclass another Third Class, then?”

“Subclasses must be one tier below your own. Hence, Second Classes may only select First classes, and by extension, Third Classes may only select Second Classes,” Cailu explained.

“So I could do something like an axe-wielding magic user?” Matt asked.

“Precisely.” Cailu nodded. “It is vital to find synergistic Classes and gear to utilize this function best. [Paladin], as I imagine the two have noticed by now, is a Class primarily dependent on defense. [Myrmidon] offered a portion of the offense and mobility I required.”

“Fascinating,” Tristan said, scratching the tip of his chin. “So, how come we’re only hearing about this now? This would’ve been helpful earlier. Especially since some of the girls we’ve met are Third Class.”

“Only men may select another Class.”

“Are you sure?” Matt asked, frowning.

Cailu glared at Matt. “Yes. I am sure.”

Well, that explains the lack of text. “Do the catgirls know about this?” asked Tristan. “I feel like this is really important to know.”

“Many do not. You must understand that few men ever get far enough to be offered the option to select a Sub-Class.” Cailu rolled the shoulder of his bad arm. “In addition, a unique Quest must be completed. From the information I have gathered, no two Quests are the same.”

Tristan exchanged a quick glance with Matt. So we can’t really help each other with them. “Cailu,” he started, “what would you suggest we do first?”

“I’m back!” Keke announced.

She’d brought another with her—a girl littered with freckles from head to toe with fair skin. Her emerald eyes sparkled beneath a crop of bushy, bright orange hair cut short and curled at the tips. Thin silks of white crossed over her ample chest, creating a revealing V-shape of her torso from the belly button up. A sash of golden fabric was tied around the woman’s waist, giving Tristan the impression that it was the only thing keeping the outfit from falling to the ground.

Keke had her arm hooked around the bend of the girl’s elbow.

“W-what is this?” the girl stammered. “Y-you’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

“No,” Keke said, pulling her closer. “Promise. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Tristan watched as the girl’s stare darted from one person to the other. After a few passes, she bowed her head, her face as red as a beet.

“Are you the one who manages this pen?” Cailu asked as he approached.

The girl nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.

“My name is Cailu Raloquen, first of his name.”

“J-J-Jeenie.” The girl snaked her arm away from Keke and covered her face. “I’m s-sorry. I…I’m not good with people.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Tristan said with an easy smile as he moved to stand in front of her. “We don’t bite. Well, maybe Cailu does a bit.” He hoped he might elicit another genuine laugh from Cailu, but as he looked up, Cailu met his stare with a cocked brow. “A-anyways, my name is Tristan.” Tristan leveled his gaze with Jeenie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Mhm,” she mumbled.

“Are you scared?” Matt asked, a hand on his hip. “Like he said, we don’t bite, so you don’t have to—”

“Quite the opposite,” Jeenie hissed under her breath. Her fingers wormed between one another, her face growing redder by the second. “I couldn’t ask for a better situation. I did not often find favor with Magni. It felt as if I could never get the truth out of him. As if he was always hiding something. I just admired his—” she stopped to breathe. “Incredible physique.”

“We want to make a bigger difference in Nyarlea.” Tristan smiled. “Would you be able to help us?”

Jeenie squeaked, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. She nodded quickly and mumbled some incoherent words before brushing past him and Cailu. Jeenie moved to stand beside a cage—one that accommodated a pen of angry-looking birds—and reached between the bars to scratch one behind the neck. Tristan and the others walked up to her at her command, standing a few feet behind her.

“What are these?” Matt asked. “They look like vultures.”

“Yeah, they do,” Tristan replied. Standing around four feet tall, they were black with large chests, bearing necks like flamingos. As he moved closer, one of them tilted its head toward him, black smoke rising from three pairs of nostrils lining its beak. A hollow hiss whistled through the holes.

“Scorchers,” Jeenie said, reaching through the gaps to scratch one below the beak. The bird responded fondly, leaning against Jeenie’s finger. “Touchy creatures. Very dangerous.”

“What’s so dangerous about them?” Matt asked as he leaned closer next to Tristan. The scorcher puffed up its chest and opened its wings, squawking.

“Too close. Get back,” said Jeenie, her tone suddenly serious. “They’ll breathe fire if they feel threatened or see you as food.”

Tristan and Matt stepped back a few paces, their hands held up.

“But they’re softies once you get to know them. Just don’t make any weird, sudden movements.”

“Can they be trained?” Keke asked, her curiosity peaked.

“Absolutely!” Jeenie exclaimed proudly. “Incredible for [Hunter]s like me. Makes up for all that Magic we’re missing out on. They hunt their prey by setting them on fire from the sky.”

“Like a dragon?” Tristan asked.

“Like Ball,” Matt murmured.

Jeenie nodded and continued excitedly, “Yeah! Like a dragon! They can only eat cooked flesh, so they only breathe fire as a last resort. Most of the time, they’ll just blow smoke out of their nostrils.” Jeenie looked Keke up and down. “You have a [Hunter]’s build. Nice abs. Are you a [Scout]?”

“Yeah,” Keke said, a rare hue of red decorating her features. “Thanks. I was thinking of becoming a [Hunter] eventually.”

“Then a scorcher would be a great partner for you!”

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Don’t we have enough fire between Tristan, Ravyn, Buttons, and Ball Gag?”

Keke frowned. “Matt. Look at it. It’s majestic. Can you imagine letting this thing loose?”

Matt and the scorcher locked eyes. The scorcher didn’t blink or look away. The irises of its blood-red eyes continued to enlarge until Matt averted his gaze.

“Yeah. I think I can, actually,” Matt said. “Wouldn’t want to fight that thing.”

“You are here to fight, though, aren’t you?” Jeenie asked. “I can’t think of why else you’d be here.”

“That is correct,” Cailu answered.

“What Level are you?”

“It is not for me.” Cailu waved his hand. “It is for them,” he said, gesturing to Matt and Tristan. “Do you have any Encroachers suitable for Level 9?”

Jeenie snorted. “It’s been a long while since I’ve had to get the babies out. Let me see what I have. Stay here for a few.”

Jeenie made her way over to a cage on the opposite side of the courtyard. Tristan smiled as she ran. There seemed to be no shred of the shy girl that had first appeared on Keke’s arm. She moved with the enthusiasm and motions of a person who’d been doing this for years.

“The babies?” Matt said, his shoulders slumping. “Come on, man. I’ve killed Defiled, I don’t need to be fighting a bunch of baby Encroachers. I can take on something tougher.”

“Uh-huh. And what happened the last time you said something like that?” Keke grinned.

Matt grunted.

“Your safety must be secured,” Cailu explained. “There is no reason to put you in greater harm than is necessary during training. I am not about to watch you wound yourself and lose days, possibly weeks of valuable Experience because of your hubris. A steady pace is imperative.”

“I get that, I do,” Matt said. “I just want to put my abilities to the test.” He sighed. “Sorry, I feel like a loser compared to you guys. Hell, Magni never left the damn castle, and he had a subclass.”

“Matt, that’s a little melodramatic,” Keke giggled.

Matt looked at Keke. “Watching their duel just kinda put things into perspective for me, you know?” He pocketed his hands into his pants. “Feel like we’re so far behind, and it’s my fault.”

“Matt,” Cailu began. “I will be candid with you. When I offered you assistance, you refused it. I am sure the catgirls have explained to you your role in this world, so I can only assume you have neglected your duties on that front as well.”

“Cailu, that’s—” Tristan began.

Cailu raised a hand to silence him. “You have no one but yourself to blame for where you are. With that said, you did as I asked, located the remaining men, and even managed to secure one in your group. You are to be commended for it. The past is just that—the past. The future has not been written. You have a chance to redeem yourself. Do better.”

Tristan struggled to read the expressions on Matt’s face. His features seemed to dance on a fine line between anger and self-deprecation.

“Let’s just do as he said, Matt,” Tristan offered. “We have plenty of time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know you’re right,” said Matt.

Jeenie came back, gasping for air. “Hey! I got a few cages set aside for a Level 8! I know they’re a Level below you, but they should still be worth a good chunk of Experience!”

“Thank you,” Cailu said, bowing at the neck. “Your efforts are appreciated. Returning to our earlier discussion, getting you and your Party to Second Class takes priority. Afterward, we can discuss what to do. Nyarlea’s future is in our hands.” He stepped forward and stood beside Jeenie, looking at Tristan and Matt. “Do not disappoint me.”

 

Chapter 189: Red Diamond

“This feels pretty awful,” I said, looking at the tiny Encroachers. A few cages with thick iron bars were set around me. Each pen stood as high as my waist, the infantile roaches snarling at me from inside.

“Try not to let it bother you,” Jeenie said with a dismissive wave. “They were born for this; bred for it. Try to look at it more like a farm—nothing here goes to waste once it’s all over. These babies’ll provide food and materials for the rest of the girls living here. Kittens included.”

“I guess that helps a little.” I was bullshitting. That didn’t help me at all. There was no way I could feel good about killing Encroachers who were already at an extreme disadvantage.

Then again, Jeenie had a point. It really wasn’t that much different from farming chickens or cows. At least it would be a quick death.

That should make it a bit less painful. Right?

“Do not hesitate,” Cailu said as he moved to stand beside me. “We must expedite your journey to Second Class. Do not make me repeat myself.”

I drew a deep breath and exhaled.

“Yeah, I get it.” I leveled my gaze with Jeenie. “So, how does this work?”

“We can do it in a number of ways. I can open the door, and you can start swinging—”

“No. Neither Matt nor Tristan will not learn how to defend themselves that way,” Cailu countered immediately.

“Yeah, Sanrai and Magni were the same way,” Jeenie said with a half laugh. “What I usually did was take them out to the arena to do battle.”

“The one we just came from?” Tristan asked.

Jeenie shook her head. “This one’s…a bit different. I’ll escort the Encroachers over and release them in whatever way you see fit.”

I leaned in and studied my first potential opponents. They were pale violet, about a foot high, and thin as a tree branch. Two tiny claws extended from the top of one’s scaly wings. Its head was round, bulbous, and its beak long and pointy like a hummingbird’s. Spirals were carved into the creature’s beak, which was strangely absent of nostrils. I tried to put myself in a child's mind and imagine that this could’ve been some kid’s bizarre interpretation of a pterodactyl baby.

“I guess one at a time would be best, right?” I wondered aloud.

“That depends,” said Cailu. He knelt to get a better look at the Encroachers. “Have you ever fought a didrilla?”

“A what?”

He pointed at the strange pterodactyl-looking Encroachers.

“I, uh, guess not.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Should I have?”

“No,” Cailu said, standing up. “A rare encounter in the deserts of Ichi Island.”

“Real annoying to fight, though,” Jeenie added. “If you’re going to fight one, then—”

Cailu raised a hand to silence her, and Jeenie’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

“Tell him not of what they do. I want to see how Matt deals with a situation he has no knowledge of.”

“Y-y-yes, Cailu,” Jeenie said, averting her gaze.

What is with this girl?

“I bet I could pluck one of these out of the air,” Keke said as she looked at them next. “Didrilla, you said? It’s cute, in a creepy sort of way.

“The color is interesting,” Tristan noted. “You have to wonder how it hides in the desert.”

Keke nodded. “That’s a good point. By the way, where are its eyes?”

“It has no eyes,” said Cailu. “It is blind.”

“You want me to beat up a blind Encroacher? What are you not telling me about this thing?” I asked. Looks were deceiving; I’d learned that the hard way. It seemed like every Encroacher or Defiled had some sort of trick up its sleeve, no matter what I brought to a fight. I wasn’t about to underestimate these things again.

“Worry not. Let us take these to the arena,” said Cailu. “Jeenie.”

“Huh? What? Oh, hey, uh, yes?” Jeenie stammered, blinking rapidly.

Cailu frowned. “Repeat what I said.”

“Um. Take these to the arena?”

“With haste, if you would.”

“R-right! I’ll take care of it.”

What have I gotten myself into?

I stood waiting at one side of the arena in [Combat Mode], axe in hand, waiting for the others to give the word that Jeenie had everything in place. I watched as Cailu, Tristan, and Jeenie carried on a casual conversation, Keke close behind me.

I say arena, but this courtyard was practically a colosseum. High walls contained us in an enormous bowl, complete with a row of seats behind a bar that prevented anyone from falling inside.

“Why wasn’t their duel out here?” I meant it rhetorically, but Keke tried anyway.

“The walls probably don’t stop Magic. If a roach uses a Spell, it won’t be as terrifying as a Third Class using a Spell.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” I dug the heel of my boot into the sand. “What’s taking them so long?”

“Relax, Matt,” Keke cooed. “You’ll be fine.”

“I just wish he would’ve told me what I’m getting myself into,” I said, rolling my shoulder and cracking my neck to one side. I needed better sleep than I’d been getting for the last week. Hell, better sleep than what I’d been getting since we first arrived on Ichi Island. “Knowledge, you know?”

“Cailu’s not going to let you get hurt any more than you have to. This is good practice anyway.” Keke slid her arms around my waist and nuzzled her cheek against my back. “How are you feeling?”

Her body felt soft and warm against mine. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. “Tired. Drained. Touchy. I want to get away for a while, you know?” I sighed. Cailu motioned to us with his good arm, and I waved back. “Maybe sometime soon.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“What about you?” I asked. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Conflicted. I’m worried about Cannoli.”

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“No,” Keke mumbled against my top. “I’m not sure what to say to her right now. I can only hope Ravyn’s been keeping her calm.”

“It probably sounds crazy, but I believe in Ravyn,” I said, smiling. “She might be rough on the outside, but you can tell she cares. I never imagined she and Cannoli would get along.”

Keke giggled. “Neither did I.”

I rubbed the back of Keke’s palms with my off hand. Her skin had become a little coarser lately, probably due to the desert air and the unending sea of sand. I couldn’t wait to take Keke and the others back to the beach for a bit of R&R.

Cailu approached, and Keke let go, opting to stand next to me.

“The battle’s specifications have been finalized,” said Cailu. He wiped a bead of sweat from the side of his head. “You will engage with three didrillas. Are your preparations complete?”

“Yep.” I gestured to my axe. “Not a whole lot else to prepare with.”

“Potions? Tonics? Enchantments?”

Every word out of his mouth felt pointed and deliberate. It was hard not to see them as personal attacks, but I felt he already knew the answers to his questions.

“Potions, yeah.”

“Let’s let Matt focus on the battle, Cailu,” said Keke, her arms crossed. “We can offer advice when he’s done.”

“Very well.” Cailu put a hand on my shoulder as he and Keke walked past me to the stands.

The nearby gates shut, the ground beneath my feet trembling slightly. Ahead of me, the portcullis was rising, and I could hear a light screeching from within. After a few seconds, a didrilla hopped across the stone-laid entryway and out onto the arena’s pitch. Its jerky movements mimicked that of a finch; the creature occasionally whipped its head from side to side. Around its neck was a small black choker with a red diamond-shaped jewel at its center.

What’s that choker for?

“The hell?” I mumbled.

The Encroacher’s attention snapped toward me. I slowed my breathing, my feet glued to the spot. The didrilla and I “stared” at each other for a while. It felt like a game of chicken. But after a time, I rolled my eyes. What the hell was I doing? I wasn’t here to try and stay away from it. I needed to fight it, gain some Experience and move on with my life.

I readied into a battle stance, the sand scratching beneath my shoes.

“Shwa! Shwa! Shwa!” the didrilla squawked. At least, it had the resemblance of a bird that squawked. The sound was very much like the creaking of wood and—

“Ahh!” I spun on my heel as the creature launched itself at me like an arrow, narrowly avoiding my arm and landing in the sand behind me. There was no room for hesitation. Not when you were fighting. I was learning this more with each passing day. I lunged for the tiny pterodactyl, screaming, “[Adrenaline Rush]!” The axe grew lighter mid-swing, finding its mark against the Encroacher’s back. The sickening sound of crunching bone made its unwelcome return to my ears, and as I pulled my axe away, the bottom half of the Encroacher came with it, sticking to one side of the blade. “Oh, god.”

“Shwa! Shwa!” came the cries of others.

Two more barreled out of the arena’s corridor, each soaring through the air like Olympic divers. I sidestepped to my right, evading one. But the second one was a different story. I raised my shield to block it, but the beast moved like lightning. Its beak spun like a power drill, screeching against the metal and drawing a long line across the shield and my forearm.

“Ouch! Hell!”

“[Heal]!” cried someone from the crowd beyond. Within seconds of the word, the pain was leaving. The bleeding stopped within moments, and the wound slowly stitched itself together. My entire body felt lighter as if someone had breathed air into it, giving it the precious oxygen it desired.

One of the didrillas had recovered from its attack, fluttering toward me. It hopped, hopped, hopped, and as I stepped back, it launched at me again.

This time I was ready for it. I reeled to one side, catching it by the neck with the edge of my axe. The two pieces of its body continued their momentum, landing in the sand next to me.

“You’re next!” I cried as I advanced to strike the last one; its head was stuck in the dirt. Its tiny legs batted behind it while sand blew into my face. “Ack!” I shielded my face, mostly my eyes, stepping back until I could no longer feel the coarse dirt strike my skin. When I opened my eyes, the didrilla was gone. “Shit, where did you go?” I mumbled, both hands on my axe.

A scene from a movie I watched when I was a kid resurfaced. It was about a bunch of worms under the ground that could sense the vibrations of their prey. Then they’d erupt from the soil, swallow them whole, and retreat underground.

I wonder if I could trick him in a similar way?

Taking great care not to move my feet more than was necessary, I reached into my [Cat Pack] and pulled out one of the potions I’d made a while ago. A strange sticky film had begun to form across the surface. I couldn’t imagine this was safe to drink anymore. Not that it mattered.

Holding the bottle at arm’s length, I leaned forward and dropped the bottle on the ground.

Like clockwork, the little buzzard rocketed out of the sand right where my, uh, jewels would’ve been, its beak pointed to the sky.

“Gotcha!” Instinct guided my swing, and the hatchet found purchase in the beast’s breast. It squealed as I took it to the ground, leveraging my weight against it until it grew silent. My breathing rapid, I ripped the blade out and waved to Cailu and the others waiting in the wing.

That wasn’t so bad. Wonder how much I got?

“Appear, iPaw.” The device manifested in my hand. I gawked at the sight before me. …How in the hell?

Matt has gained: 93 XP!

 

Chapter 190: Circling Back Around

The Encroacher battle had proven to be much more effective than Tristan had anticipated. Since his escape from the school, he had seen the slow trickles of Experience and understood how long it could take to gain a Level in Nyarlea. To hear Matt obtain 93 Experience in mere minutes was simply jaw-dropping.

Tristan approached as Jeenie entered the arena to retrieve the collars from the didrillas.

“What does that collar do?” Tristan asked, pointing at Jeenie’s hand.

“O-oh, this?” Jeenie held the collar by the tip of its leather strap, and Tristan nodded. “This strengthens the Encroacher. Magni spent an exhaustive amount of time with my mother experimenting.” Jeenie sniffed the jewel embedded in the collar, nodding to herself. “After a while, they realized that the stronger the Encroacher, the more Experience it gave.” Jeenie rose to her feet and shook the collar for effect. “So we made these things. Boosts their offense, reduces their defense.”

“That’s why I got so much Experience?” Matt asked as he came up behind her. “Because they were stronger than they were supposed to be?”

Jeenie looked at Matt over her shoulder. “That’s right. On a frail Encroacher like didrillas, it can be pretty hefty to—” Her voice trailed off, her gaze attached to Matt’s torso. After a while, she shook her head and averted her gaze. “I-I-uh, anyway. These things are great on Encroachers who aren’t very sturdy to begin with.”

“But it’s a risk,” Tristan reasoned. “You strengthen the Encroacher too much, and it could prove to be more than you can deal with.”

“That’s why we caged them,” Jeenie said, shrugging. “Get a stick or a spear and start stabbing them at a distance. Free Experience. Does make getting the collars out a little tough, though.”

Tristan and Matt exchanged wide-eyed stares.

“We could hit Second Class, hell, maybe Third Class while we’re here?” Matt asked.

“I doubt that,” Tristan said, pinching his chin in thought. “These gems look expensive. There’s also no guarantee they won’t break after some time. Am I correct?”

“Heh. Well, you’re a smart one.” A breathy sigh escaped Jeenie’s lips. “I like that in a man.”

Tristan smiled. “So, then, what are the particulars?”

“Well,” Jeenie said, composing herself and breathing deeply, “the gems do break after a while. They require the enchantment of an [Arbiter], so as you can imagine, they are not cheap to make. It’s hard enough to find an [Arbiter], let alone one experienced enough to enchant a stone with such complex magic.” Jeenie sighed. “On top of that, the enchantment is temporary, and as the wearer grows weaker, the magic has to work harder to bridge the power gap, thereby shortening the lifetime of the enchantment. So it’s best to kill the Encroacher as quickly as possible to make the most out of it.” Jeenie’s cheeks pinked as she waved her hands in front of her. “I-I’m sorry if that was too much to explain all at once! Erm, does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Tristan said. “You’ve cleared up a great deal for me, so thank you, Jeenie.”

“Y-yeah! Of course! Any time! Haha!” Jeenie bowed her head and continued to collect the collars in silence.

Keke soon approached from behind Tristan.

“You did great, Matt!” She put a gentle hand on his arm. Tristan had seen that gesture hundreds of times. He hid his smile under his hand as she continued, “You’ve gotten good at this.”

“You think so?” Matt said, the slightest hint of blush coloring his cheeks. “Thanks, Keke. I guess I should get this taken care of quick, huh?” He gestured to the wound on his arm. It had healed substantially since the initial attack, but the skin was red and welting, like a nasty sunburn.

“Let me see.” Keke lifted his forearm. Her stare glided across Matt’s arm, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It looks worse than it is.”

“When you’re finished, why don’t we pay Melly a visit?” Tristan suggested. “I’ve been wanting to check in on Destiny and Lara, anyway.”

Matt and Keke exchanged looks and nodded.

“Yeah, sounds good,” said Matt. “Think we should get Cannoli and Ravyn too?”

“No,” Keke said, shaking her head. “Let’s leave them alone for a little bit.”

Exiting the First Shell was a stranger experience than Tristan had expected. As immaculate as the Second Shell was, it didn’t hold a candle to the First. If the Second Shell was New York City, then the First Shell was Beverly Hills.

A few of the catgirls were still cleaning up from the tunnel's collapse, and, as far as Tristan could tell, the peace between them had been maintained. He hoped the relations between the Shells would only continue to improve. There would be much to discuss once Cailu and Naeemah had sorted out their affairs.

Melly was quick to answer the door when Tristan knocked.

“Oh, it’s you! Your name was, uh…”

“Tristan,” Tristan said, smiling. “Melly, right?”

“Yes! That’s me! Please, come in!”

The door shut behind them, and Melly motioned them upstairs. Each step was sturdy, devoid of the squeak Tristan was accustomed to hearing during his short time with Matt and his Party. A long rug of red and white fabric trailed from one end of the hallway to the other upstairs, bedrooms lining the wall to their right. Melly stopped at the second door, pushing it open and stepping inside to make way for everyone else.

Tristan walked in to see Destiny perched on a small stool beside her sister’s bed. She turned her head toward Tristan, her eyes red and puffy. She wiped away the remnant of a tear and approached with brisk and quiet steps with a finger to her lips.

“They fell asleep just a quarter of an hour ago,” Destiny whispered.

“How are they doing?” Tristan asked.

“Better now.” Destiny bowed at the neck and put a hand to her chest. “They’ve been having fits off and on all day.”

“Fits?” Matt asked.

“They had fevers for a while,” Melly explained. She gestured toward the bed in the back where Ceres was resting. She had her hair down and back turned. “Ceres’ was exceptionally high. But, I’ve never seen an injury that bad before.”

Matt visibly swallowed. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes. They just need time to rest.” Melly nodded. “It was fortunate they came to me when they did.”

“Anything else we should know?” Tristan asked.

“Well, the wounds were infected. There was a great deal of dirt and grime.”

Probably from the tunnel collapse, Tristan thought bitterly.

“Destiny has been invaluable as a triage partner.” Melly looked at Destiny, smiling. “I’m not sure I could have saved both of them if not for her. She’s a talented [Alchemist].”

“I had to do what I could,” Destiny said with what Tristan knew was a forced smile. “I’m just glad they’re finally stabilized.”

“Is it okay if Keke and I sit next to Ceres for a bit?” Matt asked.

“I don’t mind,” Melly said, shaking her head. “Just be quiet. They haven’t been able to sleep much.” Reaching into her [Cat Pack], Melly procured two small blue marbles and handed one to Tristan. “If anything bad happens, shake that until it glows.” Melly held up her other marble and pointed at it. “When one glows, so does the other. That’ll let me know if something happens. I need to go visit my daughter and let her know what’s going on.”

“Will do.” Tristan pocketed the small rock.

“Great. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Three beds were lined up parallel to one another, their headboards against the far wall. Lara slept in the center while Ceres occupied the bed beside the curtained window. Tristan, Matt, and Keke entered the room as Melly brushed past them, shutting the door behind her. Quietly, Tristan and the others each took a stool from the neighboring table and sat beside their respective Party member.

“How are you holding up, Destiny?” Tristan asked. He gave her some time to answer.

When she didn’t, Tristan reached for one of her hands and put his palm on top. He massaged the knuckle of her pinky, and they watched as Lara breathed slow and deep.

After a time, Destiny readjusted her hand and slid her fingers between Tristan’s. Gradually, her grip tightened, and a tear escaped the corner of her eye. She shook her head and rested her forehead in her free hand. Tristan glanced at their entwined hands and noticed the dried blood under her nails.

Tristan fought the emotions welling up in his chest. Destiny had said on countless occasions how dear her sister was to her. No one else in this world was more important to her than Lara. Seeing her sister’s blood on her hands must’ve been traumatizing.

Tristan continued to rub his thumb against Destiny’s hand while she quietly sobbed.

Lara’s skin was an ashen pale. Deep, dark bags hung under her eyes, and her cheeks sunk into her thin face. A rag lay draped across her forehead while beads of sweat collected around her hairline. Tristan looked away, noticing Lara’s maid uniform hanging over a rack in the room's opposite corner. Blood pocked the whites of the dress, a dark stain barely visible between the threads of black. The entire left sleeve had been torn off.

“She’s going to be okay,” Tristan said.

Destiny sucked in her lips and leaned her head against Tristan’s shoulder.

Tristan kissed the top of her head before resting his head against hers. Truth be told, the tunnel fight was still replaying in his head. The image of Lara bent over, bleeding over the stones, had begun to haunt him. A couple of inches to her right, and she would’ve been dead. Tristan swallowed hard at the thought.

Cailu was right. If anything was going to change, they’d need to take this more seriously. Another misstep like that could mean the end of their lives.

I will never be so powerless again.

 

Chapter 191: Risk

After leaving Matt and Tristan to their affairs, Cailu moved to the citadel’s foyer alone. Kirti was still occupying herself with whatever dark avocations she filled her pastimes with, but Naeemah had found her way back to the great hall. She was discussing quiet affairs with a dark-haired girl, Naeemah’s face serious and her voice soft. It was bittersweet to see her returned to her element—though the dark looks and sharp glances of other catgirls still in the palace did not escape his notice. Cailu was certain that the reestablished queen was also well aware of the tension within the grandiose walls.

Naeemah caught Cailu’s eye and offered a slight nod. She wanted him to wait. He shifted uncomfortably against the sling and rolled his shoulders. How long would it be until he could fight? Tristan and Matt should have a reliable escort to Nyarlothep for their first voyage, and Cailu wouldn’t prove much of a help if he was at such a severe disadvantage.

The glimmering of the dragon’s eyes in the gratuitously embellished throne raised the hackles on the back of his neck. He hoped Naeemah would have the gods-forsaken chair melted in a pit with the heinous cages trapping citizens above the walls.

“How did they do?” Naeemah asked, bringing Cailu back from the image of an enormous bonfire that smelled of burnt iron and charred gold.

“Well enough for a first day,” Cailu replied. “There is a courtyard filled with Encroachers and maintained by a [Hunter] who knows her craft.”

Naeemah nodded. “I’ll make a note to see her.” She looked behind her, long, golden earrings tinkling as she did. “Let us find some privacy?”

“You are far more familiar with the citadel than I.” Cailu gestured with his good arm. “Lead on.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she guided them past the throne and into a smaller corridor.

“I want to destroy that throne,” she sighed as they walked out of earshot of the women idling in the foyer.

“I was just thinking the same.” Cailu chuckled. “You have my full support.”

“It weighs as much as a gigashank. I could hardly lift one of the legs on my own.” Naeemah turned a corner and procured a key from her pack. “I’ll need as much support as I can receive.”

“Certainly some of the more capable hands outside will aid you. I can only lend you a single arm.” He tried to raise his hand in the sling and flinched. “Though, Kirti may resort to violence if I go against her orders.”

Naeemah’s eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” She slipped the key into a locked door and turned it to the side. The tumbler clicked on its release. “Do I need to speak with her?”

“No. I believe it is for my own good this time. You will be the first to know should my supposition change.” Cailu dismissed her concern with a wave.

“If you insist.” She leaned into the door, and it swung open. Cailu stepped inside, and she closed it behind him, resecuring the lock.

The outside light trickled in from the surrounding windows, illuminating the spacious chambers within. A plush bed covered with red, silken sheets was situated in the far back right corner, flanked by night tables made of dark, polished wood. Along the walls were multiple wardrobes, a writing desk, and round stands with vases of fresh flowers on display. Near the entrance were a twin set of sofas, separated by a narrow table of the same dark wood.

“Is this the grand chamber?” Cailu asked, noting the tapestries and paintings on the walls.

Naeemah shook her head. “If you mean Magni’s room, I believe he slept upstairs. All the better, as I’ll be able to,” she paused, rolling her options on her tongue, “refurnish it.”

Cailu chuckled and took a seat on one of the sofas. The space reminded him of Queen Nehalennia’s private rooms. A creeping tension crawled the length of his spine as the weight of expectation throbbed at his temples.

No. Naeemah has never asked for a child. He watched Naeemah glide to the sofa opposite and gracefully take a seat. My promise to her is fulfilled. And still, the dull ache in his chest suggested that he was not prepared for their parting.

“What has you so pensive, Cailu?” Naeemah asked softly, crossing her long legs beneath her skirts.

Cailu couldn’t cross his arms or fold his hands in his lap. Damn this sling! In a frustrated compromise, he rested his hand on his knee. “I fear that my departure will leave you at the mercy of wolves.”

“You’re worried about me?” Naeemah murmured.

Cailu blinked, working to keep his gaze leveled with hers, then nodded.

“When Krethik passed, it was only a few of us who took to the citadel to lead the rest. A temporary arrangement, we assured. Rājadhānī fought against us. Every city sent delegates in protest,” Naeemah explained. “They wanted to leave the seat open for the next man.”

This was a story she’d told him shortly after they’d begun traveling together. Tiny pieces of it collected and formed in his memory like the delicate threads of a spider’s web. At the time, he’d needed a capable warrior to assist him in forcing Nyarlea beneath his thumb. Naeemah’s history made no difference—she would accompany him so long as she was returned to her rightful station on her island.

How things have changed.

“A year passed. Then two. The angry voices quieted, and those in direct opposition’s opinions shifted in favor of my rule.” Naeemah smoothed her skirts. “These women just need time. Should the sands walk with me, time is a commodity I can offer them in ample quantities.”

“I know you can give them more than just time, Naeemah. You are a queen this island—this world—deserves,” Cailu replied, watching her hands. The soft, warm hand that had slid into his just hours earlier. The emerald eyes that had begged him to emerge victorious.

Naeemah studied his face for a long time. “Cailu, why not stay here?” Her voice softened. “With me?”

To his surprise, his initial reaction was to agree with her. Whoever may appear on Ichi could just as easily be whisked to San Island to take care of the girls there, leaving Cailu to assist in rebuilding Rājadhānī and the outlying cities. At Naeemah’s side. But…

Damn this world. Cailu inhaled deeply and sighed. “I cannot. I must ensure that Matt and Tristan arrive in Nyarlothep safely and discuss strategies to protect Nyarlea and its islands’ futures.”

“It does not have to be right now,” Naeemah countered. “Once you feel Matt and Tristan are ready to play the parts set before them, and you have reached an agreement that takes this world from your shoulders, you can return here.”

“Naeemah—”

She raised a hand before he could continue, a gesture she rarely deployed. “You have done your duty over and over again. You deserve to rest.” She lowered her gaze as her hand returned to her lap. “You deserve to find happiness. If not with me, then whenever you feel most at ease.”

The poignant sting of discordant emotions was as keen as Magni’s blade in his flesh. So many years before, in another lifetime, he’d pledged his heart and soul to his wife. Now, Naeemah’s invitation stirred a once-forgotten tonic of compassion and longing. Fera, do I betray your memory?

“I will consider it,” Cailu replied at last.

Naeemah stood, crossing to the second couch in two elegant strides before taking a seat beside him. Her shoulder touched his, and she tipped his chin to look at her. “What do you fear?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, cursing himself in silence for his racing heart.

“Liar.” Naeemah brushed his cheek with her thumb. “What are you afraid of?”

He searched the depths of her gaze, finding more of the singular emotion forbidden in Nyarlea.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a delicate, sensual kiss. Cailu’s breath caught in his chest, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to wrap his arm around her waist and reciprocate.

Naeemah… We cannot do this. Their connection was more than this. Better than this. He never wanted to view Naeemah as one of them—the women who followed him at every turn, pleading for their chance at offspring.

Cailu drew away and stood. Naeemah’s conflicted stare followed him—heartache painted in her expression. “We will stay until Matt, Keke, and Cannoli are ready to advance to Second Class.” Turning to the door, he switched the lock and pried it open the width of a few fingers. “I would not want to impose longer than necessary.”

“As you wish,” Naeemah replied, not moving from the sofa.

He exited the room and closed the door behind him, unable to spare Naeemah another look. The ghost of her kiss echoed through his skin, and he shook his head to clear it.

I am afraid of you, Naeemah.

 

Chapter 192: Twister(NSFW)

We left Melly’s house after the sun had set, so the moonlight and oil lamps from the Second and First Shells were what guided us back to the castle. It was good to see the girls in high spirits, still working vigorously on taking down the wall. Jaya caught my arm to let me know that all cages had been lowered, and they were nursing many of their inhabitants back to health. A handful hadn’t made it, but everyone was doing what they could to help those that did.

Well, almost everyone. As Tristan and Cailu had expected, there were still plenty of people in all Shells who refused Naeemah’s takeover, and whispers that the duel was rigged made it to our group as we headed back. I hoped that those would stop soon, if just for Naeemah’s sake. She had enough on her plate already.

My thoughts kept drifting back to Ceres. Her damp hair clinging to her cheeks, her rasped breathing, the sweat dripping from her forehead. It had felt like an eternity since she’d been the one watching me while I slept, teetering on death after the Defiled attack.

“I should be there with her,” I mumbled. Keke and I were a few paces behind Tristan, who was lost in his own thoughts.

“Matt, she’s in the best place she can be right now,” Keke replied. She slid her hand into mine and squeezed. “Melly and Destiny are taking great care of her.”

“I know, it’s just… she was there for me when I needed her. I don’t feel like I’m doing enough.” I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Hey, you’re doing what you need to be doing right now. What would she say if she woke up and found out that you could have been gaining Levels instead of watching her sleep?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “‘Sir Matt! I have hindered your progress!’” I put on my best Ceres impression.

Keke grinned. She straightened her back and held a hand to her chest, warping her expression with concern. “‘Pray, my lord, allow me to fetch a thousand Encroachers for you to single-handedly slaughter.’”

“And that’s the part we’re buried under a thousand gigashanks.” I found myself smiling, too. “Yeah, you’re right. She’d want me to keep pushing to Second Class.”

Tristan glanced behind him and stopped walking. “You two all right?”

I didn’t realize just how far back we were. “We’re fine!” I tugged on Keke’s hand and we jogged to catch up. “What about you, man?”

Tristan nodded and fell into step beside us. “I’ll be okay.” He looked up at the sky. “Not to eavesdrop, but I know how you feel, Matt.”

“Melly and Destiny are doing everything they can,” Keke reassured him. “If anything happens, we’ll be the first to know.”

“I know you’re right, and I get where Matt’s coming from. I want to help where I can, too.” Tristan shrugged.

I patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll keep working hard. Impress the hell out of all of ‘em when they’re back.”

He flashed a bright smile. “Yeah. We got this.”

The mood around us lightened, and we switched to easier conversations as we crossed through the First Shell and back to the castle. The scents of smoked meats and roasted veggies beckoned us all to the dining hall, where Kirti and Cailu ate in silence.

“What’s on the menu?” I asked, pulling a chair out for Keke before taking a seat.

Kirti raised her eerie orange eyes with a smirk. “Whatever you killed in the arena, boy.”

Now that she mentioned it, the long, sinewy strips of meat did look like the didrillas. The shwa shwa sound they made rang in my ears when I took my first bite. It tasted like chewier chicken and was strangely cajun in flavor.

“Will we be back in the arena tomorrow, Cailu?” Tristan asked, spooning cubed orange vegetables onto his plate.

Cailu didn’t reply.

That’s new. I leaned forward, catching a glimpse of him around Tristan. Cailu was staring off into space, not blinking. Kirti smirked as she watched him expectantly.

“Cailu?” I called between bites of didrilla.

Cailu blinked and shook his head. “Apologies. What did you need?”

“Are you feeling okay?” Tristan asked. “I know it’s been a long day.”

“Yes. I just need a full night’s sleep, I believe.” Cailu pushed his plate away and stood. “Let us meet here in the morning before we move to the arena. If you will excuse me.”

He left without another word. I exchanged looks with Tristan, and Kirti chuckled under her breath.

“What’s so funny?” Keke asked, sliding the plate of fruit closer to herself.

“Nothing, child. Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts.” Kirti tapped her napkin to her lips before standing. “I, too, will take my leave.”

After she’d gone, Keke grumbled low enough for just me to hear. “The cure for ignorance is knowledge, Kirti.”

I chuckled, spooning another helping of didrilla and vegetables onto my plate. “Don’t let her get under your skin. I think she enjoys it.”

Keke sighed and nodded, popping a slice of red fruit into her mouth. “She’s doing enough to Cannoli as is.”

I grimaced. That was one conversation I wasn’t looking forward to in the near future.

“Honestly, I think all of us need some time to process this… adventure,” Tristan said. “The good news is, we have it.”

Tristan was right; we could finally take some time to recover. Magni was gone, and we were safe. With real beds and water and three meals a day. Cailu had probably paid Agni enough to get her through the next three years of her life, and there was an entire football field of Encroachers outside to farm. “Yeah. All we can do is our best, right?”

“Mhm.” Tristan and Keke hummed in unison, then smiled.

We finished our meals, and Tristan waved us goodnight before disappearing down the hallway.

“Hey, Matt.” Keke slid her fingers through mine and gently touched my arm. “Want to get cleaned up?”

“Sure. They should have drawn the baths by now—” I stopped talking as soon as I met her eyes. That tiny, mischievous smile curved the corners of her lips and lit up her golden gaze. That was the look. My heart skipped, and I squeezed her hand. “Yes. Please.”

The sound of her giggle was like lightning through my veins as she led me down the hallway and into the bathing room across from our quarters. Abalone felt like a million years away—another lifetime since I’d felt her skin on mine.

I closed the door behind me, glad to see the tub still filled. Aanya had drawn a long curtain across the steaming water as a separator for our privacy—of course, it wasn’t hiding anything I’d already seen. But Tristan and I had followed the rules and stayed on our side of the curtain. Well, until now, at least.

Keke tip-toed around the bath, and we disappeared behind the drape. I’d barely kicked off my shoes before she was yanking my shirt over my head. I had enough time to steal a kiss between her unbuckling my belt and her skirt hitting the floor.

Her lips trailed to my jawline, dipped into my throat, and the tip of her tongue traced my collarbone. I buried one hand in her hair and caressed the length of her spine with the other. She shivered as she sank to her knees.

“Keke—ah!” Keke’s lips encircled my cock, and she peered up at me with wide, hungry eyes. I sucked a gasp between my clenched teeth, hoping the doors were thick enough that no one could hear me.

“Fuck, I missed you.” I slid my fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head.

She hummed a sensual reply, reaching for my free hand and moving it right behind her ears. Her tail wrapped around my calf, and she pressed her thumbs just inside my hip bones.

I pulled her head closer and could feel her hot breath against my thigh. Gentle licks with the tip of her tongue against the underside of my shaft sent tiny pulses of ecstasy through every nerve of my skin. Her throat was slick and searing, tightening around me every time she crept nearer, trying to take me deeper.

I massaged the base of her ears, urging her down every few seconds. Her tail twitched and constricted around my leg, and with each gasp for breath, she looked back up at me with one word written on her face: More. She wanted me to push her; encourage her.

My mouth went dry when she looked up again, waiting.

“Good girl, Keke.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. An embarrassed heat bloomed on my neck and rose to my face.

An erotic whimper escaped her, and she worked her tongue harder, the strokes more desperate. I groaned and tightened my grip on her hair.

“You like that?” I whispered, breathless with pleasure.

“Mhm,” she hummed, the sound reverberating against my shaft.

I thrust my hips forward and pressed her head down until I hit the back of her throat. She squeaked in surprise but remained in place, her breathing quick and uneven through her nose. I drank in the picture of her hair tumbling down her arched back, the perfect curves of her body quivering beneath my grip.

I relaxed my hold, and, to my surprise, she drew back for only a second to catch a breath before descending again with even more enthusiasm than when she’d begun.

The pleasure and sensitivity skyrocketed in equal measure. I blinked, dizzy with need and drowning in her desire. “Keke, you’ll make me come like this.”

A sound between a hum and a giggle slipped from her tongue, and she doubled her efforts. I couldn’t hold back—it had been way too long. I climaxed, and she drew her tongue along my length, then swallowed.

“Such a good girl,” I growled, watching her drink every drop.

She slowly pulled away, and I stepped down into the bath. I grabbed her around the waist and guided her to join me. “Come here.”

Keke licked her lips and nodded, sinking into the warm water beside me.

Could you get any sexier?

There was a smooth, narrow ledge for occupants to sit and soak, and I propped her on it. “Your turn.”

“Matt, you don’t have to,” she murmured.

“I want to.” I repositioned myself between her legs and kissed her. God, I want to. I followed the bend of her inner thigh with my hand, parted the soft skin of her center, and slid two fingers inside of her.

“Mnh!” she whimpered against my mouth, her chest gliding against mine.

I held the small of her back with my free hand, cradling her at an angle that let me reach as deep as her body would allow. Breaking our kiss, I kissed her throat and moved down to her breast. She twined her fingers in my hair as I teased at her nipple with my tongue, kneading her yielding depths.

“Ngh! That’s so good,” Keke breathed, tilting her head back. “Don’t stop.”

“Not a chance,” I murmured against her skin. I added a finger to her heat and set my thumb to her clit, caressing it every time I thrust inside her.

She covered her mouth with one hand, masking the sharp squeals and moans that managed to break free. Her heels dug into my back, and the tip of her tail teased between my legs.

God, enough of this, and I’ll be ready to go again.

“I’m close! Please don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice strained. Her body tightened around my hand, and her breathing was erratic.

I repositioned so that our eyes were level and my lips were moments from hers. “Be my good girl, Keke.”

“Matt!”

I nibbled her lower lip. “Come for me.”

“I’m coming!” Keke gasped, sealing our kiss before the convulsions rocked around my fingers. She rolled her hips against my knuckles, releasing euphoric moans into our shared breaths.

I massaged and kneaded every spot that made her tremble and squeal until the tension left her body and her shoulders relaxed. I carefully drew away from her and took a seat beside her, curling one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair.

“What?” Keke tipped her head against my chest, the fur on her ears tickling my skin.

“You like being my good girl?” I asked.

I could feel the heat on her face as she blushed a deep red. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“I would never.” I kissed the top of her head. “That’s a first for me, too.”

“Did you like it?”

“Probably too much,” I admitted.

Keke giggled. “Or just enough.”

She snuggled closer to me. “I wish we could be like this every day.”

Maybe. Some day. But I can’t make those promises just yet. “Me too.”

We were quiet for some time; our even breathing and the faucet’s rhythmic dripping were the only noises in the room. She reached up and touched my face and watched me for a few drawn-out seconds. I kissed the tip of her nose.

“We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow. Let’s get cleaned up.” I touched her shoulder and chuckled. “For real this time.”

 

Chapter 193: Spin the Bottle

Tristan returned to his room to find Zahra asleep while Ravyn and Cannoli were huddled at the headboard of the second bed. Dark circles framed Cannoli’s eyes, and Ravyn had one arm over her shoulder while Buttons and Ball Gag affectionately fussed at Cannoli’s hair and cheeks.

“Do you need me to leave?” Ravyn asked, tossing her head toward Zahra. “I don’t want to wake her.”

Tristan looked at the three girls in turn, then shook his head. He riffled through his [Cat Pack] and retrieved the plate he’d taken from the kitchens. The girls there had stacked it with fresh fruit, slices of bread, a wide selection of meats and cheeses, then secured it for easy transport with a lid. Nothing that big should have ever fit in his pack, but he’d learned to stop questioning the magic in Nyarlea.

He pried off the lid, and Ravyn stared at it with wide eyes, then licked her lips.

“I figured the two of you might be hungry. We could get some fresh air? There’s a room with a balcony nearby,” Tristan suggested. It had caught his interest during the short opportunity he’d had to explore between meals.

“I think that would do us both some good,” Ravyn replied, squeezing Cannoli’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go with him, Cannoli?”

Cannoli held a stuffed blue parrot close to her chest, avoiding Tristan’s gaze. After a stretched moment of silence, she nodded and stood. Ravyn sighed and followed, motioning for Ball to move to her shoulder.

They padded into the hallway, and Tristan led them down the expanse to a sitting room with lush sofas and polished tables. So far, it seemed unoccupied, and a pair of doors led outside to an expansive balcony with four chairs and a small glass table set between them. A fire pit was stationed near the balcony’s stone railing, and the kindling burst to life with a murmured word from Ravyn.

Tristan set the plate on the table and allowed the girls to choose where to sit before situating himself near the firepit. The flames lapped away the evening chill while thousands of stars blinked at them from overhead in a blue velvet sky.

Ravyn stacked squares of meat and cheese on a slice of bread before she passed it to Cannoli. “You need to eat.”

Cannoli stared at the offering and frowned.

“Please?” Ravyn added.

With quivering hands, Cannoli accepted the bread, then nibbled at its edge.

She has the same vacant stare as she did on Shi. Tristan ran a hand through his hair as he watched Cannoli gingerly eat. Cannoli locks all of her emotions away… “Cannoli, can I ask you something?”

Cannoli’s ears flickered in his direction, and she gave him a tiny nod.

“Of all the books I had on Shi Island, the ones Celestia said were the hardest to get ahold of are about Saoirse,” Tristan explained, careful to keep his voice neutral. “Can you tell me more about the goddess of Nyarlea?”

Ravyn visibly tensed, and her mouth pulled into a thin line. She crossed her legs, and the look she shot Tristan said he’d gone too far.

“I want to understand how you feel,” he added gently.

To his relief, Cannoli lowered her snack to her lap and met his gaze. “Saoirse is the Mother of all catgirls. She guides our queen and her subjects. We are created in Her image and carry Her line to our kittens. She is the reason we can use Magic and Skills, and by Her hand alone are we permitted to transcend Classes.”

“What about the men? It’s not Saoirse’s approval we need, right?” Tristan asked.

Cannoli looked at Ravyn.

“Men aren’t held to Saoirse’s… standards,” Ravyn said carefully, feeding a section of bread to Ball. “Once you have enough Levels and training for your next Class, your iPaw changes it for you.”

“However, men and iPaws are gifts from Saoirse as well,” Cannoli added.

“If you believe that, yeah,” Ravyn countered.

Cannoli flinched as if she’d been struck.

Ravyn sighed. “Cannoli, your faith is your own. No one can take that from you—”

“You still don’t believe what Kirti did is wrong, do you? What she’s doing?” Cannoli snapped.

“Cannoli, hang on. Let’s back up.” Tristan moved his chair closer to Cannoli’s and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what Kirti’s doing.”

Cannoli’s tone sharpened, her words thick with malice. “[Witch Doctor]s should be persecuted and burned like [Necromancer]s—”

Tristan pulled his hand away and leaned forward, watching her face. “But they aren’t.”

“Departed souls belong in Saoirse’s care. It is Her judgment alone that will determine our eternity. Kirti not only delays Saoirse’s judgment, she interrupts its cycle by destroying souls to cast her Magic,” Cannoli snarled.

“The thing is, Kirti says they’re souls, but they might not be,” Ravyn said with the bland reassurance of someone repeating the same sentence a dozen times.

“What makes you say that?” Tristan asked.

“A lot of [Classes] need a cost satisfied to use Skills or Spells. Sometimes it’s an item, most times it’s Myana, and almost every cast takes a toll on Energy.” Ravyn grabbed a slice of cheese and ripped it in half. “What Kirti’s siphoning and using could be any one of those things.”

“I told you. I can feel them, Ravyn,” Cannoli whimpered and shivered. “I feel their sadness and their desperation.”

“Is it possible that you’re projecting your own emotions onto Kirti’s stones?” Tristan measured his words, guessing that Ravyn had said something similar.

Cannoli’s frown and furrowed brow confirmed that this wasn’t the first time she’d heard that conclusion.

“I know my experience is limited, but I read at least three books on the history of forbidding [Necromancer]s and another half-dozen on Nyarlea laws,” Tristan explained. “I admit, there’s very little out there I could find about [Witch Doctor]s, [Dark Priest]s, and [Demonologist]s, but if the queen herself believes them safe, maybe Kirti’s overplaying her role?”

Cannoli blinked. “Overplaying?”

“Exaggerating what she’s doing to get a rise out of you,” Ravyn supplied. “That’s what I said she’s been doing from the beginning. She’s a bitch and wants to watch you squirm.”

“But, I…” Cannoli trailed. “Matt, he…”

“Matt had to make a snap decision, or Ceres would have died,” Tristan finished for her. “Every choice has consequences.”

Cannoli was quiet for some time.

“I think you might look at this as him choosing Kirti over you, Cannoli,” Tristan continued. “But it really isn’t the case. He cares about you and would have done the same if it were you or Ravyn or Keke who was badly hurt.”

“I wouldn’t want him to do the same for me,” Cannoli countered.

“No, but we all make bad decisions when it comes to the people we care about.” Tristan laid his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay to feel mad and upset, even betrayed. But I can say for certain, Matt acted with the best of intentions.”

Ravyn fed Cannoli’s abandoned food to Ball and took her opposite hand. “We’ve all been through a ton of shit together. Tristan’s right, Matt’s a baka, but he’d never do something to hurt you on purpose. Or… any of us for that matter.”

Cannoli squinted her eyes shut and nodded. Her shoulders twitched, and her breathing was sporadic as she fought off sobs. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ravyn rubbed Cannoli’s back, and Tristan squeezed her hand.

Tears streamed down Cannoli’s face, and the twinges in her shoulders turned to shakes.

“It’s okay,” Tristan murmured. “We’re right here.”

Cannoli’s sobbing escalated.

Just let it out, Cannoli. Don’t keep the bottle closed.

Ravyn mouthed a silent Thank you. Tristan nodded his reply.

They stayed at Cannoli’s side until the early hours of the morning.

At last, Cannoli’s tears dried, and she wiped the streaks from her cheeks. She sniffled and rubbed her nose on the back of her wrist. “I’ll… I’ll apologize to M-Matt tomorrow.” Her voice was hoarse with crying, but it had lost its angry edge.

“Pfft, nah. Let him sweat over it for another day or two,” Ravyn replied with a wry smile.

For the first time in days, Cannoli giggled and pushed her hair away from her eyes. “You’re right. He is a b-baka.”

A baka that needs you.

Cannoli took a hand from Ravyn and Tristan and pressed them to her forehead. “Thank you both.”

“Anytime, sweet,” Ravyn crooned as she stroked Cannoli’s hair. “Anytime at all.”

Tristan quietly watched the exchange between them, surprised by Ravyn’s tenderness.

Your whole Party needs you, Cannoli.

 

Chapter 194: Clue

When I awoke, Keke wasn’t there. Her scent covered the bedsheets, filling my nostrils and putting me at ease. I groaned as I stretched my ligaments—every bone and muscle in my body felt weighty. The last day or two had hit me a lot harder than I’d anticipated. The constant tension we’d been suffering was at last melting away, and I struggled to find the willpower to leave the one place of comfort we’d found.

I really could just sleep for a couple of days, I think.

Sighing, I turned my head to the side and tangled my fingers in the sheets behind my head. It’d been so long since I’d been able to wear the robe Shizen gave me. With how clustered together we were and the relentless hint of danger constantly nipping at our heels, I’d lost the chance to wear it ever since we arrived on Ichi. Until I wore it to bed last night, I’d forgotten just how comfortable it was. Between the robe and Keke, I fell asleep within minutes.

I knew I’d be bombarded by something the moment I left the room. There was still much to do—probably more than ever. The discovery of the Experience Farm meant we had an incredible opportunity to better ourselves. To be honest, we couldn’t ask for a better position. And yet, the thought of more fighting made my stomach churn.

At least here, in this bed, I was safe.

Okay. That’s enough of that. There’s stuff to do. Come on, Kelmer.

I forced myself to my feet and reached for the ceiling. My muscles screamed in protest, beckoning me back to the bed. Before I could fall prey to the bed’s seductive comfort, I switched into my casual clothes and left the room, closing the door behind me.

I happened to see Cannoli walking down the hall to my right, her tail swaying side to side.

Ah, right. What do I do about her?

Space, Keke had told me. Just give her space.

Hoping to stay out of her sight for the time being, I took the opposite path and made my way to the dining room.

It felt great to see everyone eating and smiling. Cailu waved me down from the other end of the table, and I took the seat closest to him. Keke came to sit next to me, and beside her sat Ravyn.

“We have much to do today,” said Cailu. He was dressed in a simple tunic and pants. Reminded me of something I’d seen in art from the renaissance.

“I figured as much,” I replied simply. “Got another fight for me?”

“Yes. We can discuss it after breakfast.”

“Sure.”

“I went to see Lara this morning,” Tristan said across from me. “She’s awake now, thank goodness. Ceres too.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” Truth be told, I was sorely missing Ceres’ voice. My day felt absent without a ‘Sir Matt’ to accompany it. “I want to pay her a visit first before we start.”

Cailu nodded, tipping a golden cup against his lips. His cheeks were flushed, and his stare looked vacant. Well, more vacant than usual.

He’s not drinking wine this early, is he?

“Hey,” Ravyn said, leaning over the table to look at me. She fed a cookie to Ball as she looked at me. “Have you seen Cannoli?”

“Saw her, yes. But she went the other way.” I shrugged. “Why?”

Ravyn frowned and relaxed in her chair.

I guess that’s the end of that.

By the time breakfast was over, I’d barely said a word. Cailu asked that I meet him back at the arena when I was finished checking in on Ceres. Keke offered to come with me, but I declined. With how hectic things had been lately, I needed to clear my head and hear my own thoughts for a while.

I descended one of the staircases to the ground floor. Halfway down the stairs, I saw Cannoli waiting at the bottom. She had her arms behind her, kicking at a loose pebble on the ground. Despite our disagreement, I couldn’t help but smile.

I hope you’re okay, Cannoli.

While I considered how Ravyn had acted during breakfast, I continued down the stairs. Putting a serious talk off wouldn’t do either of us any favors. Our gazes met, and she quickly bowed at the neck, averting her eyes.

“Good morning, Cannoli,” I said with a casual wave. “Did you sleep okay?”

Cannoli looked up at me. Dark bags hung under her half-open eyes, and her skin had more of a pale sheen than usual.

That’s a no.

She clasped her hands in front of her, and they shook slightly. I’d hoped she’d eaten or bathed since Magni’s death, but I had my doubts.

“Mhm. Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, her small smile clearly forced.

“Yeah, sure.” Despite anticipating the question, my heart skipped a beat. Does anyone like hearing ‘We need to talk’? “What did you wanna talk about?”

“Um.” Cannoli fidgeted. “It’s about how I acted earlier. When you… had to help Ceres.” She kept her stare glued to the ground the entire time she spoke. It left me feeling uncomfortable. “I still think it’s wrong what Kirti does, and I’m still mad at you.”

I felt a tinge of irritation, but I kept my mouth shut.

“But I shouldn’t have lashed out at you the way I did. So, I’m sorry. It just, well. It hurt me. It hurt me a lot, and I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

In cases like this, I’d usually reassure whoever apologized to me that it wasn’t a big deal or that we could move on. Water under the bridge, as far as I was concerned. Many of my friends said I was a pushover in that regard, always willing to bend over backward for people. ‘Wipe your feet on the welcome Matt’ is how they would sometimes refer to me, and I despised the term.

So, I’d take a note from my friends today. There would be no reassurance, no bouncing back. Saving any of my girls, no matter the cost, was never something I would apologize for. This world wasn’t holding its punches. And after watching the fight between Cailu and Magni, I knew I still had much to learn about Nyarlea. Hell, probably lots to learn about myself.

This time, I would simply accept the apology.

“Thank you for apologizing,” I said. “We can agree to disagree.” I continued past her when she caught me by the hem of my shirt. I was eager to talk with Ceres, and while it may have come off as insensitive, I wasn’t in the mood for a sermon. I turned my head to look at her. “Something else, Cannoli?”

“Really, Matt. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” she squeaked. Tears fell down her cheeks. I stood frozen in place as she sobbed quietly. I couldn’t leave her like this.

“Hey,” I said, embracing her. “It’s okay. Really.”

Damn it, Kelmer. What happened to accepting the apology and walking away?

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay at all.” Cannoli’s body felt so small against mine. She buried her face in my chest and balled my shirt in her hands. Her tears soaked my front, and my heart crumbled as I tightened my arms around her. “I couldn’t bear to watch it, to see it. To know that those souls were gone, forever kept from Saoirse’s cycle. It tore me apart. It’s cruel.”

“Have you thought maybe that Kirti doesn’t actually destroy souls?” I suggested. I’d regretted the words as soon as they’d left my mouth. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this sorta conversation, but here we were.

Cannoli whimpered something I couldn’t make out.

Keep trying? I had to make sure Cannoli was getting by. “I mean, she did use the word ‘Essence’ once or twice. Maybe she’s just an edge lord.”

“Huh? An… edge lord?” Cannoli drew back, an eyebrow cocked. Her puzzled expression looked out of place among her red cheeks.

I flushed. “It, uh, shit. It’s a, uh, term for someone who’s being a little too dark and stoic, sorta?” Did this even make sense as I was saying it? “To the point where it comes off childish. Like someone who can’t grow up. We’d call it edgy in my old world.”

“Edgy.” She hummed the response. “Are you an edge lord?”

Ouch.

“N-no. Not me,” I said, chuckling. The heat was rising in my face. “Why would I be an edge lord?”

Cannoli pursed her lips and averted her gaze.

Oh no. She does see me as an edge lord.

“A-anyways,” I said, scratching the back of my head, “try not to beat yourself up over it. We all say stupid things sometimes. Maybe just try and stay away from Kirti. I think she enjoys taunting people.”

“Oh, she does,” Cannoli said matter of factly. “You can see it if you watch how she speaks with Cailu and Naeemah.”

“Yeah, probably. I’m sure Cailu keeps her around because she’s effective.” I shrugged. “If he could take someone else, I think he would. Regardless, she’s not our problem.”

“Maybe.” Cannoli relaxed in my arms, letting her forehead rest against my chest. “I’ll try to be better. I will.”

After a time, I let Cannoli go, and she sighed. It seemed to be one of relief.

“Thanks, Cannoli,” I said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “We can talk this out later, okay? Hopefully, we won’t have to work with her for much longer.”

“Yes.” Cannoli offered a wry smile. “I hope so. Are you visiting Ceres?”

“I am. I heard she woke up, so I wanted to pay her a visit and see how she’s feeling.” I started to walk away as I spoke. “I’ll see you soon. Make sure you eat something, okay?”

“Okay. Have a nice visit.” Cannoli rubbed her sleeve against her nose and tiptoed upstairs.

As I entered the Second Shell, I replayed the conversation with Cannoli over and over in my head. It was awkward and stilted, just as I had imagined.

There was no way I could’ve let Ceres die. I made the right choice. I know I did.

I hoped Ceres would agree with me.

 

Tristan sipped his water as he watched Cailu and Ravyn finish off one dark bottle, then a second, then called for another. Cailu’s cheeks were flushed, and, despite his claim of needing a good night’s rest, the dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he’d barely slept. Something was wrong.

Naeemah hadn’t joined them for breakfast, and Kirti had come and gone without a word. Matt left to see Ceres while Keke, Cannoli, and Zahra were elsewhere. Tristan reasoned that he’d give Destiny time with Lara before he went to check on them, which left him in the dining hall with the increasingly intoxicated Ravyn and Cailu.

“What’s the celebration?” Tristan asked, casually gesturing to the newly appeared bottle.

Ravyn shrugged. “I see wine and I drink it. Elf?”

Cailu chuckled, swirling his golden goblet. “The false king is dead, and the queen is restored. I have achieved my goal for unity among men in Nyarlea.” His eyes lingered on the wine, and his voice softened. “There is much to celebrate.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it,” Tristan replied. He kept his tone even, hoping not to spark Cailu’s ire.

“Mm,” Cailu hummed, then looked up at Ravyn. “Now that I think about it. You hid away with the man who came before me, did you not? On San Island?”

The room seemed to drop ten degrees as Ravyn’s furious violet gaze raised to Cailu’s face. Tristan’s shoulders tensed.

“The hell are you getting at?” Ravyn growled.

Cailu shook his head. “I do not ask to ignite your rage or persecute your actions. You paid for it with a surfeit of rehabilitation before joining my Party, as I recall.”

Rehabilitation? Ravyn? Tristan recalled a passage in one of the difficult Nyarlean Law tomes outlining the need and utilization of rehabilitation for men and catgirls who fell in romantic love. It was meant to “cure” them of the emotion.

It was a sensitive enough topic for two people on good terms. From what he’d gathered in Ravyn and Cailu’s interactions, they’d parted on a sour note, to say the least.

Ravyn’s eyes flashed to Tristan before she stole another deep drink of wine. “Then what the fuck is your point, Cailu?”

Setting the goblet on the table, Cailu rested one hand beside it, adjusting uncomfortably against his sling. “You clearly cared for him to an unlawful degree, yet it appears that you harbor similar feelings for Matt.”

“Oh?” That single word from Ravyn’s lips carried a heavier challenge inside it than Cailu’s demands of a duel with Magni.

Tristan felt compressed between them; caught in the crossfire. “Cailu, hang on—”

“How can you stand it? Betraying the memory of the one you cherished most?” Cailu pressed on.

A sharp, strident slap rang against the walls before Tristan could register that Ravyn was on her feet. A pink haze blossomed on Cailu’s face where she’d struck him, and her ears lay flat against her head. Ball Gag flapped erratically around her shoulders, shrieking with surprise.

“Mayhap, I could phrase my questions more adequately—” Cailu began.

“How fucking dare you,” Ravyn snarled, punctuating every word. She snatched the bottle and her goblet from the table. “Don’t you ever talk about Finn again.”

“Ravyn, sincerely, I did not mean—”

“Always a cunt,” Ravyn spat. She spun on her heel, taking the wine with her and vanishing from the dining hall.

“Cailu the cunt! Squawk!” Ball’s cry rippled behind her.

Cailu sighed, kneading the place she’d hit him with his fingertips. He leaned back in his chair and glanced at Tristan with a weak smile. “Well, that was a disaster.”

Tristan blinked, overwhelmed with questions. Where do I even start? “So, I’ll pretend like you weren’t trying to brutally insult Ravyn for a moment. What just happened?”

“It is a cruel irony.” Cailu’s eyes searched the vacant chair where Ravyn had sat only moments before. “Ravyn is likely the one person here who…” His words trailed, dying in the enormous room. He shook his head and drained his goblet. “No matter. It is a fool’s errand to expect anything of her.”

“Cailu, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. All is well.” Cailu pushed his glass away and looked thoughtfully at Tristan. “You are an avid bibliophile, are you not?”

“Er, yes.” Tristan was more than a little taken aback by the unexpected inquiry. “Why do you ask?”

“What book in this world would hold enough importance to be recommended with a man’s dying breath?”

“Is… this a hypothetical question?” Tristan asked, puzzled.

“No.”

Tristan’s brow furrowed. “What exactly was said?”

“Just before he died, Magni said ‘book.’” Cailu rested his temple against his good fist. “At first, I pushed it aside as the final prayer from a tyrant. However, to ignore any information that could potentially help us in this world is blatant ignorance.”

“Hm.” There were thousands of books in Nyarlea—some more difficult to find than others. To Tristan, all knowledge was important and necessary, especially in a world different from his own. But to recommend a title in his final moments?

As he mentally thumbed through the countless books in his time at Venicia, an idea struck. If he wanted to convey information to a stranger, he would have left it in his sketchbook.

“What if it’s a journal?” Tristan asked.

Cailu raised an eyebrow. “More of his self-serving ideals for Ichi Island?”

“It could be. Or his record books or a sketchbook like I have.”

“It seems that for us to all ponder over this would be a waste of time.” Cailu crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “While I help Matt train when he returns, I task you with researching the nature of his final request.”

Tristan flinched. This could take a while. Unless… “Maybe we could ask Eshe? Magni’s previous assistant?”

Cailu shook his head. “I would err on the side of caution and draw your own conclusions first. Let us make Magni’s confidants a final resort.”

Tristan held back a sigh. “All right.” He finished his water and pushed away from the table. “I’ll look around.”

“Oh, and Tristan?”

“Hm?”

“How old are you?”

Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “Eighteen.”

Cailu nodded. “Two summers younger than Heiki would be now,” he said, his features wistful. “But I digress. I shall meet with you later.”

“Oh… kay,” Tristan replied, watching as Cailu exited the dining room, leaving him alone.

There was something very wrong with Cailu.

The citadel had more wings, stairs, and hidden rooms than Tristan could fathom just by looking outside. Most of them were empty beyond a few pieces of furniture or imported decorations. He passed a handful of catgirls in his wanderings, but it seemed like most of the women and kittens they’d seen on their first day in the castle had dispersed to their homes in the First Shell.

He did spy Naeemah through the open slot of one grand room, sitting at a wide polished desk and looking over what he only assumed were Magni’s books of record. It wouldn’t make sense for both of them to pore over the same information. He kept silent and continued on.

At the top of a second-story banister was a grouping of three rooms out of the way with closed doors. He approached the first, knocked, waited, then peaked inside. There were stacked crates and furniture covered in white blankets. Spiderwebs glittered in the sunlight peaking through a high window, and a thick coating of dust flooded the floor.

Doesn’t look like this has been used for a long time. If I’m right about the journal, it won’t be here. He made a mental note to check it out if nothing else turned up and moved on.

Knock, knock, knock.

Tristan waited.

This is silly. No one’s up here.

Just as he pushed on the door, it opened from underneath him. He stumbled forward but quickly caught his balance. A catgirl with deep almond skin and dark hair tied back in a circle of braids at the base of her neck blinked in surprise. Her eyes were a pale yellow—like stars.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was smooth and even.

“Sorry to bother you. Just looking for a—” No, Cailu said a last resort. “A book collection, I guess. Maybe a library?”

Her perfect eyebrows raised, and she stepped back, opening the door wide. “It’s tucked away, but you’ve come to the right place.” Her blue skirts swayed around her ankles, bedecked in golden beads that matched the fastenings of her long-sleeved top. She paused and held a hand up. “You’re not here to… damage them, are you?”

“No! I wouldn’t dream of it.” Tristan shook his head vehemently. “It would feel like killing friends.”

“Then you may pass.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I’m Svarga.”

“Tristan,” he replied, stepping through the threshold. As he peered around the room, he withheld a gasp. Shelves upon shelves of books were stacked neatly together from one end of the room to the other, each with just enough room for a single person to move between. The scents of aged paper and ink wafted through the room like a siren’s call, begging to show Tristan their secrets. He thought his collection on Shi Island was expansive—this room was at least three times that size. “This is amazing. Someone wanted to get rid of it?”

Svarga nodded. “The late king did not care for Nyarlean literature. This was the last safe haven for these stories.” She frowned. “One particularly cold and unprosperous winter, I lost a handful to kindling.”

Tristan’s stomach turned. Just when I think he can’t get any worse. But, if Magni considered the books in Svarga’s wing of the castle disposable, what Tristan sought was likely elsewhere. Your book is in another castle.

“What do you do here, Svarga?” Tristan asked, wandering to the nearest shelf. It wouldn’t hurt to look all the same.

“I was the scribe for many years. King Magni could read and write, of course, but there’s power to be had in dictating to someone beneath your station.” Svarga whisked away to a desk, her footsteps barely disturbing her posture. Like she was floating.

“Were you unhappy with his reign?”

Svarga fingered an impressive sapphire pendant at her throat. “He was generous and kind with those of us in the First Shell. My daughter and I have wanted for nothing.” She sighed. “Even so, I hope the Second and Third Shells receive the same kindness beneath Naeemah’s rule.”

Tristan nodded. “I believe they will.”

Svarga shuffled through a stack of papers, catching his attention. Curiosity got the better of him, and he wandered to her side, glancing over the tower of books framing her workspace. Delicate cursive decorated the loose parchment in long paragraphs and strings of dialogue.

I’ve seen her handwriting somewhere…

“Are you writing a book, Svarga?” Tristan asked, lifting one of the tomes that flanked her current work.

Chapter 195: Guess Who

“I’ve written a few,” Svarga said hurriedly, reaching for the book in his hands. “But, Tristan, wait—”

Before she could take it back, Tristan caught the name Josselyn penned in the same elegant writing as the paper on the desk. He favored her with a wry smile as she clamped the cover shut and held it to her chest. A pink tinge hued her cheeks, and she avoided his stare.

“Josselyn’s your pseudonym,” Tristan said.

“Y… Yes.”

“You’re the erotica writer.” He chuckled. “I’ve read your work and know a few other people who have, too.”

Svarga carefully set the book back on the tower. “I know it’s fantasy drivel. I couldn’t let it leave this citadel beneath my own name.” Her blush deepened. “I am certain there are many… inaccuracies. Writers work with what they know.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the papers before her. “That statement says enough, I believe.”

Tristan traced the spines of the leatherbound tomes with his fingertips. Magni was gone, but his scribe was a good place to begin asking around for the elusive ‘journal.’ Easing Svarga’s tension couldn’t hurt.

“I could help.” He flashed Svarga a disarming smile as her gaze locked his. “What would you like to know?”

 

Chapter 196: House of Healing

I was in a strange mood. On one hand, I felt like skipping over to Melly’s house. The fact that Ceres and Lara were awake was great news. I’d spent the majority of my time agonizing over what I could’ve done to prevent Ceres from suffering such a terrible wound. Still, every time I tried to think of what I could’ve done better, I was always led back to the same thought—Sanrai was a monster. A catgirl truly deserving of the word. If anything, we were lucky to come out in as good shape as we did.

On the other hand, though, things still felt a little stilted between everyone—especially with Cannoli. There was an awkward force in the air that made it increasingly difficult to just be myself.

Some part of me blamed Cailu for that. Now that he was around, I felt I had to work three times as hard to earn my place in the group. Every word out of my mouth was met with either a disappointed glance or a scolding. Admittedly, I know I deserved some of it.

I wasn’t as well-read as Tristan or as seasoned of a fighter as Cailu. But, man, I hadn’t really had the chance to do a lot of either since I’d come to Nyarlea. Hopefully, there was still enough time to prove myself to both of them.

I knocked on Melly’s door, then waited with my hands in my pockets. Most of the First Shell’s debris had been cleared, with the stray stone or trinket resting against the walls beside the tunnel. A few of the catgirls had wandered off to see what the other Shell looked like, though the Second Shell girls seemed a bit more optimistic and curious than those who resided in the First Shell.

There was a clear divide of wealth and luxury between the two Shells, though not to the degree we’d seen in the Third Shell. Many remarked on the jewelry and fine housing in the other’s district. I hoped that our being here and forcing them to mingle would work out for the better.

“Oh, Matt! Good to see you,” Melly said, answering the door. Her hands were dyed purple, and streaks of the same color splattered her cheeks in a messy array. “Here to see Ceres?”

“I am,” I said, nodding. “Is she awake?”

“She is! I was just making pie. Come on in.”

“Oh? Do you mind if I have a slice?” I hadn’t had pie since the girls had made one together.

“Well,” Melly hummed, “it needs to cook for close to an hour. But if you’re still here, then you’re welcome to it.”

“Thanks.”

Melly led me up the stairs for what was the third, maybe fourth time? I wasn’t sure; I’d lost count at this point. She knocked on the door, then pushed it open.

“You have a visitor,” she announced. She stood to one side and waved me in.

“Sir Matt!” Ceres whipped the covers off her and threw her legs over one side. “It’s good to—”

“Hey!” Melly barked. “Stay in bed. You’re still in no condition to be moving around like that.”

“A-ah. Yes. My apologies.” Ceres resumed her position in bed and brought the covers back over her legs.

“Can I use one of those?” I asked, pointing to one of the stools next to the table.

“Go ahead. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Melly said with a smile.

“Good to see you, Matt,” Destiny said, glancing at me with a curt nod. She looked better than before. The dark bags were gone, and there was life in her features again. Seeing Lara awake seemed to have done wonders for her well-being.

“Same, Destiny. How are you feeling, Lara?” I asked as I grabbed one of the stools by the leg.

“Better. Melly said I could leave soon. Tomorrow maybe.” Lara’s tone of voice hadn’t returned to its airy, whimsical norm, but seeing her and Destiny talking again was a huge weight off my shoulders.

“The nightgown looks good on you.” Maybe it was a weird thing to say at the moment, but I wanted to make things sound casual. Ceres and Lara were provided a change of clothes at some point. They wore matching one-piece gowns of white, which frilled around the edges of the fabric. They looked comfortable as hell.

Lara blinked. “Oh, thank you.”

I set the stool next to Ceres’ bed and took a seat.

“It is wonderful to be in your presence once more, Sir Matt.” Ceres offered a polite nod. Her hair wasn’t braided and fell around her shoulders in long strands of gold. There was a tender tone to her voice, a bit hoarse. She coughed to the side, away from me, and cleared her throat. “It seems I cannot drink enough water this morning.” She reached for the glass beside her and swallowed two large gulps before setting it down.

“You look so much better, Ceres,” I said. To be honest, she was striking. Seeing her out of her armor with her hair freed was rare. It was softer than I was used to, but she wore it well. “I was worried about you. The wound was pretty rough, from what I heard.”

“Indeed. I lament that I have caused you undue stress. From what I have been told, you have visited me a few times now.”

“Yeah,” I said, averting my gaze momentarily. “Melly stressed that you would heal, but for a while there, she didn’t seem to know what the damage might entail. Has she talked to you about it?”

“Yes. She informed me that I shall make a full recovery.” Her gaze landed on Lara. “However, I may be here for another day or two.”

“That’s okay. Take time to heal.” I half laughed. “I don’t know a lot of people who can say they were stabbed in the stomach and lived.”

Ceres clasped her hands upon her lap. She made several complex expressions before she responded. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”

Her gaze looked lost and sad. I noticed the book resting on the table beside her and cleared my throat. “Keeping yourself busy?”

Ceres turned to the book and retrieved it. I recognized the cover; it was the same one she read when I was recovering from the Defiled twins.

“Yes, Sir Matt.” She flipped the book open and thumbed through the pages until halfway through. She straightened the folded paper corner and grazed her pointer finger down the page. “I have learned much. Our tendency to find ourselves in trouble has further expedited my desire to see my [Alchemy] improve.”

Yours isn’t the only one that needs improving. Those Potions I made don’t look too great anymore.

“How does your expedition fare?” Ceres asked, shutting the book and placing it on her lap. “From what little I have heard from Destiny and Tristan, it sounds as if the infiltration was a success.”

This wasn’t really what I wanted to talk about. I admit I don’t know what I really wanted to talk about—just something that didn’t involve politics, the duty of men and catgirls, or fighting for Experience. What sounded great right now was a vacation away from it all.

But hey, catgirls.

“It went great,” I said. Hearing the tone of my voice, I put a bit more enthusiasm into my next words. “Cailu defeated Magni in an official duel, so he’s dead now.” I scratched the side of my nostril, sniffing. “Naeemah is working to bring order to the city, and Cailu’s helping me train. There’s an Experience farm that Magni had been working on.”

Ceres frowned. “Forgive me. Experience farm?”

“They trained up a bunch of Encroachers and bred them for battle. The girl responsible for them, Jeenie, said that Magni used them to get easy Experience and Levels.”

“Celestia entertained a similar thought,” said Destiny. I repositioned and sat parallel to the beds, looking at her. “The costs were enormous. Celestia estimated a minimum of two years before a proper Experience farm could be made. Even then…”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” Lara said with a finger to her lips, her eyes half open. “‘Too many to manage,’ she said.”

“Well, seems like Magni managed just fine,” I said. “Jeenie mentioned that she straps some sort of choker to their body. It’s supposed to make them stronger, and so—”

“They provide more Experience,” Ceres finished. “Fascinating.”

Yeah, I guess.

“Anyways.” I waved my hand in hopes of getting away from the topic of the Experience farm. “We’ve been relaxing and training while we try and figure out what we do from here. Cailu is adamant about getting Tristan and me to Second Class.”

“I must admit, that is a fair demand to make,” said Ceres. “If I recall correctly, your Class is Level 9, is it not?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Excellent.” Ceres nodded. “I shall do whatever I can to hasten your journey to Second Class.”

I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions.

“What was Second Class like for you?”

Ceres bowed her head. Her smile vanished, replaced by a thin line. She seemed pensive, almost reluctant somehow. It was hard to get a read on her.

“My journey was a complex one,” she finally said, raising her head to look at me. “I spent years training my body and my Magic so that the Sword of Virtues would receive me as one worthy of the [Magic Knight] title.” She shuffled one thumb over the other before continuing. “I met many who shared my passion for eliminating the Defiled threat. I gained many allies and lost many who trained alongside me. Reaching Second Class is an arduous task for any, and [Magic Knight] remains among the most difficult of Second Classes to gain access to, let alone master.”

“Years?” I repeated. “I’ll be training for Second Class for years?”

“I admit, I do not know. That would be an excellent question for Cailu.” She shuffled her thumbs again. “There are many times that I miss my training and my peers.”

With each word she recited, she spoke as if she was talking to an old friend. For a moment, I wondered if I was digging up some bad memories from the sad look on her face. I didn’t want to upset her.

“So a sword decides if you’re allowed to become a [Magic Knight]?” I teased. “What if the sword broke or got stolen?”

Ceres smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “There are several like it, each with different monikers.” I nodded, pretending I knew what ‘moniker’ meant, and let her continue. “Saoirse left behind a number of holy swords. The queen considers each one a treasure, and thusly they are heavily guarded. To breach the fort holding the Sword of Virtues would mean to enter combat with every catgirl available, a great deal of them formidable [Magic Knight]s.” She sighed. “At least, that is how it was until shortly before you arrived.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Sword of Virtues was stolen,” Destiny explained.

“Is that true?” I asked.

“Yes,” Ceres said with a sullen expression. The corner of her lip twitched. “The fault was mine. I was the acting vanguard the day it was taken. A detestable Defiled had breached the city’s walls, and I called upon the actions of every available [Magic Knight], including the [Fighter]s who were still training.” A pause followed. “I left behind two [Magic Knight]s to protect the sword. They were killed by the thieves.”

I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t expecting such a bombshell, and honestly, I wasn’t ready for it.

“I’m really sorry, Ceres.” The words left my lips, but they didn’t feel like they were enough. My dad never talked much about being in the military, just that it was tough. I imagined it was a similar concept for Ceres. Seeing your friends dead and a priceless relic stolen underneath your command had to sting.

“Do not worry yourself over me,” Ceres shook her head. “The past is the past. There is little more I can do now than try to atone and make amends wherever I am able.”

“I’m sorry if I sound insensitive, but then how do [Magic Knight]s come to be, now?”

“The [Magic Knight]s still possess two more swords capable of bestowing their power to adepts. Since that theft, the queen has taken it upon herself to keep the remaining swords.”

I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be going down that path.

“I see. Is it… tough to talk about?”

“Somewhat,” Ceres said. “But it does no soul well to dwell on what cannot be changed. As I have said, the past is simply that—the past. You can continue living in it, but no one is there anymore.”

“So wise,” Lara said with evident admiration.

After that, I shifted the conversation away from Second Classes as we continued to talk. I was more concerned about Ceres and her personal interests than Nyarlean politics. As uneasy as it made me to probe her for information on her past, I was glad to learn more about her. I wanted to know my girls and how they ticked.

I’ll need to make a better habit of this.

 

“...And that’s how your journey into Nyarlea would transpire,” Leiana concluded, closing the screen with a few quick keystrokes.

Wait, what? What the hell had we just watched? “That was catgirl world?”

“Correct.” Leiana folded her hands on the desk. “I must say, you most certainly looked as if you could successfully battle the metal demon upon reaching Level 10.”

“Jesus. I almost died. Again. Four or five times,” I grumbled. “And that was after getting better gear.”

“This particular simulation was the one where you continued to live. Our systems simultaneously calculated 13,667 simulations of your experiences in Nyarlea. In every other one, you perished.”

Holy shit. “Uh…huh.” I blinked. “I thought I told you just to send me?”

“You did, Matt.” She gave me a solemn nod. “However, the dangers and tribulations are so statistically high that I believed showing you a simulation of your time spent among them would behoove you.”

“Why did your simulation jump to other people? Most of the time, I wasn’t in those.” I frowned, stretching my incorporeal legs away from my chair. “Like, what do, erm—” I struggled to remember their names. “The guys.”

“Tristan and Cailu?” Leiana supplied.

“Yeah, them. What do they have to do with me and the catgirls?”

“All threads of a world are important to its fabric.”

I squirmed a bit in my seat. “Even their sex lives?” In Leiana’s simulation, I’d personally seen plenty of action with catgirls. But, man, watching another guy go at it just wasn’t my thing.

“The simulation is quite detailed.” A tiny smile toyed at the corners of her lips. “Besides, I found ample enjoyment in our time together.”

I’m sure you did. “Hang on. How long have we been watching this?” Time here seemed nonexistent. I didn’t feel the nagging pull seeking productivity—I was perfectly content in the manager’s office.

“Let’s see.” Leiana’s fingers danced across her desk. “In Earth time, it has been one year, seven months, seven days, and three hours.”

“What? We’ve been watching a simulation for almost two years?”

“That is correct.”

I stared at her while I let her words sink in. Two years. Two years of near-death experiences, heartbreak, and struggling to keep my head above water in the name of Nyarlea; the catgirl world. Thirteen thousand opportunities to die. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was way out of my league.

“Alright. Fine.” I shrugged. Something new couldn’t hurt. “I’ll be a dungeon.”

“That is an excellent choice.” The screens lit up with foreign glyphs and expansive graphs. “Your necessary tools will be available to you upon your arrival.”

As a dungeon? “Tools?”

“Yes.” She reached for one of the holographic screens nearest her and pressed her palm against it as if it had a tangible form. The image shot forward, enveloping me in a blue haze. “For your valor, Matthew Kelmer.”

For the second time that day, the world went dark.

Now Loading…

Life as a dungeon was weird enough. Life as a dungeon on another planet took a lot more getting used to.

For starters, it took weeks before I understood what the hell my purpose was. My new form as a rocky cavern was underwhelming, to say the least. A few wandering critters and beings covered from tip to toe in purple fur chanced to check inside but left when they realized there wasn’t much to see. Let me tell you, it was strange as hell feeling them walk inside me.

But then I started hearing the whispers. Like idle thoughts from other dungeons, challenging travelers to come search for their treasure and try to make it out alive.

So, is my goal to trap them in or let them out? I wondered.

A bit of both, an undistinctive thought replied.

The trapped ones give you Skills and Experience, another chimed in. Trap too many, and they’ll stop trying.

I could only assume “they” referred to passing adventurers. So, don’t kill all the residents. Seemed easy enough.

Though, what the dungeon hive-mind failed to explain was that the treasure needed to come off of whatever I trapped. No one seemed to want to take a deep dive for common animal parts. I did catch one hungry guy after setting fire to a blue, four-legged deer thing.

I have to admit, no matter how much time and work I put into expanding my dungeon self, glimpses of Leiana’s simulation from Nyarlea continued to slip through the cracks.

As I willed the leafy tendrils that acted as my arms to strip the armor from an adventure claimed by a pit of doom, Keke’s laugh as she reeled in a fish echoed against the halls. Cooking always made me think of Cannoli. The adventurer’s polearm was uncannily close to Ceres’ favored weapon. And screeching birds that lost themselves in the darkness recalled visions of Ravyn cuddling with her blue parrot.

Even if I hadn’t lived through it, I’d spent over a year with all of them through Leiana. They felt like friends. And the Nyarlea version of me hadn’t been such a bad guy.

Maybe I made the wrong choice.

Hey! That jackass was supposed to be mine! Another dungeon cried. I’ve been after that armor for months!

Get good, Carl. I piled the expensive armor into a locked chest resting at the bottom level. A full Party would come for that set, I was sure of it. And they’d be in for a surprise when the chest bared its teeth.

I didn’t have to wait long.

“Guys, it’s this way!” a familiar voice called.

“Keke, wait up!” another girl squeaked.

“Kehehe. Last one there’s a roach!”

“Ugly roach! Ugly roach! Squaawk!”

“Ladies, please! This is not a contest! We will share the spoils equally, as always!”

When the four catgirls crested the hill nearby, I felt a rush of excitement and familiarity that made little sense. I’d never seen them before. Besides, it’s not like I could say hello, or hug them.

After all, I was just a dungeon.



I know it's a couple days late, but Happy April Fool's!

 

Chapter 197: Sea of Stars(NSFW)

Tristan went to the kitchens, tossing three goblets into his [Cat Pack] before filling a pitcher with clear water. Staying well-hydrated during intimate encounters was a habit ingrained into him at the School—one of the few he’d let stay with him. Even if Svarga claimed she wasn’t thirsty after their tryst, it was worth having it on hand, just in case.

Besides, now she’d asked for Matt to join them.

Matt…

Hesitating, Tristan set the pitcher on a nearby marble counter and fished a dark bottle from a rack that stood beside the cooling chests. He uncorked the stopper and drank deeply. The taste was somewhere between brandy and whisky but not unpleasant. Some liquid courage couldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t that they’d never done it before. Honestly, that may have been the problem. During their time in Abalone together, when it was just him, Matt, and Peony, the feeling had struck him like a bolt of lightning. That more-than-friends crush that high schoolers chased and inhaled like a drug.

Tristan took another swig.

The last thing Tristan ever wanted was to make things awkward between them. Ravyn’s comment while they were camping about them making out had completely thrown Tristan for a loop. He thought for sure she’d figured it out. But, judging from Matt’s reaction, there was no mutual interest to be had. Which was fine. Tristan was honored to call him a friend.

Except that now Tristan found himself worrying that he’d destroy their friendship by accident thanks to his silly crush. Maybe he’d say something offensive, or a stare would last too long. Or, the current contender, Hey, Matt, want to get naked with me again? There’s another catgirl waiting.

Tristan groaned and stole one more sip. The warm tonic was at least calming his nerves.

“Hey, Tristan. Didn’t expect to find you here.” Matt rounded the corner into the kitchens.

Tristan nearly leaped out of his skin. He swiftly corked the bottle and shoved it into his pack. “O-oh! Hey! I was looking for you, actually.”

Matt grinned and began sifting through cupboards and cabinets, grabbing a handful of dried fruits here and a few strips of smoked meats there. “Cailu let me go early today. Said he had too much of a headache.”

“Probably an early hangover.”

He popped the fruit into his mouth and tore a bite of jerky before leaning against the counter. “Wait, seriously?”

Tristan nodded. “He and Ravyn split two or three bottles of wine this morning.”

“Sorry, Cailu and Ravyn shared wine?” Matt looked incredulous.

“It went about as well as you imagine.” Tristan scratched his chin. “I think Cailu was honestly trying to ask her for advice and failed catastrophically.”

“Jesus. All right. I’ll check on Ravyn later.” He chewed another handful of jerky before he continued. “You said you were looking for me. What’s up?”

This sounded a lot easier to do when Svarga asked. “Remember the book Peony was reading? In Abalone?”

“The one you said was smut?” Matt chuckled.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

“The author lives here.”

Matt paused. “Really?”

Tristan nodded. “Yeah. Her name is Svarga. I, er, was just in her room with her.” He shifted uncomfortably, then crossed his arms over his chest. “She asked to try some things. With both of us.”

Matt’s brow furrowed, and Tristan shrank beneath his stare.

Do you see right through me?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just offered to ask, is all,” Tristan added quickly. Very smooth. I’m sure that didn’t raise any suspicion.

“No, it’s fine.” Matt sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you’re good with it, I am, too.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Yeah. You’re right—no reason for you not to be. You’re a pro at this.” Matt flinched, his smile wavering. “I mean, I’ve only finished the breeding Quest once.” He laughed. Something about it seemed forced. “I don’t know why I thought that’d sound better than ‘sex quest,’ but there it is.”

Tristan flushed. His initial years in Nyarlea were filled by Celestia setting a calendar of girls for him every single day. Being able to choose whose bed he’d spend time in was still very new—and admittedly exciting. It dawned on him that Matt’s hesitation had nothing to do with him. “Matt, seriously, you don’t have to—”

Matt waved a hand, then gestured to the door. “We’re good. Lead on.” When Tristan hesitated, Matt’s easy smile returned. “C’mon. Not nice to keep a lady waiting, yeah?”

Tristan grabbed the pitcher with a nod, guiding Matt up the stairs to the secluded hallway where Svarga’s library and bedroom resided. He paused outside the closed door, then knocked.

“It’s Tristan,” he announced.

“Come in,” Svarga called.

Tristan opened the door and let Matt in first before he followed and switched the lock. Svarga perched nude in the middle of her bed on her knees, thighs parted and yellow eyes studying them in turn. Her spine arched slightly forward, accentuating her chest, and her long tail swayed behind her like a pendulum.

Matt’s eyes widened, and he coughed into his fist. “Svarga?”

“The one and only.” Svarga smiled.

“I’m Matt.” He looked over at Tristan, sliding his jacket off and tossing it into a nearby chair. “Is it my birthday? She’s got the pose and everything.”

Tristan snickered under his breath. “She wants to write more accurate material.”

“It is as he says.” Svarga slowly leaned forward, planting her hands on the bed before walking toward them on all fours. “So, Matt, what will you teach me?”

Matt shrugged, watching her as she moved. “I’m still pretty new at this myself.”

Tristan approached the bed. He cradled Svarga’s face in one hand and followed the line of her lips with his thumb. “What are you comfortable with?”

Svarga sucked his thumb inside her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue. The moist heat of her mouth echoed across his skin. “Anything,” she murmured.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she crooned. “Please.” She reached for Tristan’s shirt and yanked on it. “Everything off.”

Tristan and Matt divested their clothing and tossed it aside. Tristan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Svarga and Matt, and he prayed that neither seemed to linger for too long. He crawled on the bed behind Svarga, drawing her shoulders backward until she was seated, her back against his chest. Matt joined them, positioning himself at her front.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Tristan murmured.

Svarga did as he said, folding her arms behind her head until they rested around Tristan’s neck. He slid his hands beneath her thighs and spread her legs.

“How do you feel?” Tristan asked.

“Vulnerable,” Svarga replied, her legs trembling in his hold. “Helpless.”

“Do you like it?” Matt trailed his fingers along her abdomen, kissing her cheek while he waited for an answer.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Matt let his hands wander higher, massaging Svarga’s ample breasts against his palms. Tristan sunk his teeth into her shoulder as Matt captured her kiss. She whimpered, her toes curling. One hand fell free from Tristan, circling Matt’s neck and pulling him closer.

All awkward tension between them vanished with Svarga’s desperate moans.

Matt took Svarga’s hips from Tristan, shifting them to rest in his lap while her head rested on Tristan’s shoulder, her arms still shared between them. Matt plunged his fingers inside her just as Tristan moved his attention to her chest and masked her groans with his lips. She yielded to his tongue, seemingly welcoming the dual penetration of her body. She tasted like cinnamon and wine, and Tristan drank her in.

Svarga’s airy whimpers escalated in pitch and speed. She wrapped her legs around Matt’s waist, and her arms returned to Tristan’s neck. Her entire form shuddered with her climax, and her back arched to welcome their touch.

Tristan pulled away from their kiss, pushing the hair from her face and waiting for her breathing to slow.

Before he could say anything, Svarga uttered a single word, “More.”

Tristan exchanged a look with a surprised Matt. I know. Catgirls are made of different stuff. “Can you lift her?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

Tristan blushed. “If I told you I saw this in an eroge once, would you trust me?”

“I don’t know what that means, but sure.” Matt shrugged and slid away from the bed.

“Put her back to you and hold her thighs like I just did,” Tristan instructed.

Matt took the euphoria-drenched Svarga and carefully lifted her from the bed, leaning her head against his chest and supporting her just beneath the bend of her knees. “Still okay, Svarga?”

“Yes,” Svarga whispered, wrapping her tail around Matt’s back. “Goddess, yes.”

Tristan moved to stand in front of them and cupped the cheeks of Svarga’s backside in both hands. Holding them apart, he looked at Matt. “Lower her down on you. Slowly.”

“Tell me to stop if you need to,” Matt murmured to Svarga. He positioned himself against her opening and gingerly let gravity do the work.

Tristan moved his hands to her chest, pinching and teasing her nipples to keep her concentration divided.

“Mnh… ah!” Svarga hissed a breath through her teeth. One arm reached behind her, hand holding onto Matt’s neck, the other forward to hold Tristan’s shoulder. “That’s really tight.”

“Yeah, it is,” Matt groaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Tristan kept one hand on her breast and used the other to angle the head of his cock to her heat. Her body welcomed him as Matt lowered her down, and there was a collective gasp. She was scorching hot and soaking wet. Her head rocked forward, and her lips met Tristan’s.

“I’m gonna move you,” Matt warned. He lifted Svarga by a few inches, then left her to the descent. He moaned and bit his lip. “Jesus. Good on your, er, arrow-gee.”

Tristan nibbled Svarga’s lower lip and chuckled. “Eroge,” he corrected against her mouth.

Matt sputtered a laugh, then lifted Svarga again. “How’s that, Svarga?”

“I-I don’t—mnh! I don’t have the words,” she stuttered, grasping at their skin with her fingernails. “It’s so good.”

“Better hang on, then,” Tristan growled, winding his arms through her legs to further stabilize her. He bucked into her, thrusts hard and measured. Standing added a new dimension of pleasure—he could reach the limit of Svarga’s depths, more constricted and textured from Matt behind her.

Too many overwhelming thoughts and sensations pushed Tristan to an uncharacteristically fast edge. Svarga’s sweltering body, her fingernails raking into his back, the taste of her skin, Matt within arms reach, the sound of his ragged breathing, the muscles in his arms working as he held her.

“Ngh! Shit!” Tristan cried, tipping over the edge of his climax.

“Don’t stop! Harder!” Svarga commanded.

Matt grabbed Tristan’s forearm and held fast, keeping both him and Svarga in place as he plunged furiously inside her until they climaxed. Tristan barely heard her squeals or Matt’s groans. Instead, his imagination moved Matt’s solid grip beyond his forearm to pinning his wrists—

Dammit! Stop it!

Tristan blinked, clearing his thoughts, and returned to the present. He drew away from Svarga so Matt could bring her back to the bed and lay her down. He fished his pants from the pile of clothing and ran a hand through his hair.

“Think your next book will be more accurate?” Tristan asked as he dressed.

Svarga smiled. “I do.” She looked between Tristan and Matt. “Though you will still need to teach me how to touch a tail correctly.”

“I will later on. No problem.” Tristan threw on his shirt and retrieved the empty goblets from his pack. “Make sure you drink plenty of water.”

“Tristan, you okay, man?” Matt asked, leaning against the bed. “This is pretty ‘hit and run’ for you.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just need some fresh air,” Tristan lied. He left the room without another word, heading for the nearest courtyard.

No matter how much rubbing or scratching he did, the pressure against his forearm wouldn’t go away.

 

Chapter 198: Streaks of Red

To help transition Svarga from an awkward situation, I talked with her to keep her company. I wondered what was going on in Tristan’s head, but I chalked it up to stress. This island had been the personification of Satan’s asshole, breaking wind whenever the sun rose.

Svarga was pretty reserved with Tristan’s absence. She spent much of the time scribbling in a yellowed book. With how silent things were, it took a while to get a good feel for when I could leave. Eventually, I found an excuse in the form of Ravyn.

Svarga was still penning down notes when I left.

It was just a matter of time until Ravyn and Cailu were at each other’s throats. That wasn’t strange when I spent more than a minute thinking about it. What was strange to hear was that he somehow thought to ask Ravyn for advice. Besides Naeemah, I had a hard time imagining Cailu asking for anyone’s help, let alone Ravyn’s.

Not wanting to catch Ravyn off guard, I knocked on the door to our room. It didn’t take long until it swung open, the stink of alcohol rising into the air. Ravyn kept one hand on the door handle and a bottle of wine in the other. She wore a robe reminiscent of the one I got on San Island, her cheeks beet-red. The black and red fabric crossed over her chest, and a sash secured it around her waist. Cutting just above the knee, the robe offered a sneak peek of her shapely legs. Deja vu swept over me as the memory of our first meeting replayed in my head.

I swallowed.

“Well, isn’t this a familiar sight,” Ravyn hiccupped.

“Are you okay?” I asked. The tone of her voice had me worried. It squeaked, and there was a bit of hoarseness behind it. As if she’d screamed her throat ragged. I wondered if the red I saw in her cheeks was from the wine or something else. “You don’t look so good.”

“The cunt was being a cunt,” she said with a growl. “You’re here to make nice, aren’t—” she hiccupped. “Ah, fuck.” She took her hand off the handle and rubbed her forehead. “Head’s killing me.”

“Ravyn, really. Are you okay? What did he—”

“He made wild assumptions about me and my fucking… rehabilitation.”

Rehab? Well, I guess I could picture you at an AA meeting.

“What rehab?” I asked. “You never said anything like that before.”

There was always something more to Ravyn than meets the eye. Her lips formed a thin line as her violet eyes searched me. It put me on edge. Something was up.

“I need some time alone, Matt.” Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. My mind warred with itself. With how reliable Ravyn was, it was like watching a great wall crumble in front of me. I wanted to help her. “I’ll be fine after this bottle.” Before I could stop her, she shut the door behind her, the clicking of a lock following.

I stood there for a moment, baffled. I turned to leave, and after a few steps, I stopped and glanced over my shoulder.

I wish you’d be more open with me, Ravyn.

Cailu’s enthusiasm to get us leveled seemed to return with each passing day. The next morning he knocked on my door at the crack of dawn and demanded I make my way down to the arena for more training. My muscles were still recovering from the day prior, but I supposed Nyarlea wouldn’t wait for any man.

I ate a light breakfast and hurried to the fighting pit, where a strange creature awaited Keke and me. Once Jeenie finished hooking it up with the choker, business continued as usual.

“Behind you!” I cried.

Keke turned on her heel and went down on one knee as she nocked and fired an arrow in a single motion. The arrow sang as it soared through the air, grazing the bulb of the pricklepuck—a strange hybrid between plant and Encroacher that stood up to my waist. It bore a bell-shaped head and walked on its roots, gliding across the sand at an alarming speed. It whipped its leaves through the air as if they were arms. The stem and roots of the creature served as its body, with spines as long as my finger lining its, uh, skin?

“Crap!” Keke yelped as she dove to the side to dodge the incoming Encroacher. The roots of the pricklepuck made disturbing scuttling sounds as it ran past her, turning on a dime and maintaining its momentum toward her.

I positioned myself between Keke and the pricklepuck, swiping my axe through the air at its stem. The creature reeled back, then caught my leather bracer at the wrist with the razor-like teeth around its “mouth.”

“Ah!” I swung with my free hand, nailing it in the face with the blunt of my shield. Hitting the damn thing felt like I was striking a sponge—the axe’s blade just would not stick. I hit it a few more times until it whipped its head to one side, tossing me to the ground and sending my axe across the sand. The pricklepuck was eating through my Energy and patience way too fast. “Damn it!”

Adrenaline pounding in my ear, I felt the renewed vigor granted to me by the arena’s [Priest] and reached for my axe. The pricklepuck drool dripped down my bracer as it stared at Keke briefly before lunging toward her. Keke leaped into the air as the pricklepuck’s bulb opened wider. The bulb narrowly missed Keke’s heel, and the pricklepuck tripped over itself, landing in the dirt with Keke settling back to the ground a few feet behind it.

Keke nocked another arrow as I ran to the Encroacher’s side with my weapon in both hands. One of the beast’s sharpened leaves flew at me, slicing across my cheek like a shallow paper cut. It stung like a mother but did nothing to impede me. I struck the pricklepuck overhead, shouting “[Adrenaline Rush]” before the attack landed.

I felt the blade enter the creature’s spongy flesh, and feeling its resistance, I doubled down and pulled back to hook the axe into its body. Three arrows struck the weed from the back of the head, drawing violet blood from the puncture points. It moved to look in Keke’s direction, but I pulled it back to the ground and stomped on it with my boot while I extracted the axe and struck it again.

Arrows continued to lodge themselves in the Encroacher’s body, and I soon felt the thing’s strength leave. A sickening gurgle escaped the mouth of the creature as I withdrew my axe and exhaled.

“Well, that was an… interesting one,” I commented.

“Nyarlothep is not to be trifled with,” Keke sighed.

The pricklepuck, as Jeenie had explained it, was not native to Ichi Island. This was a creature that resided in Nyarlothep. Hearing Jeenie say that these bastards hang out in communal groves together just made the idea of running into them that much worse.

My skin crawled at the thought.

The gate opened, and soon Cailu and Jeenie appeared. Jeenie practically bolted over to us while Cailu took his sweet time to arrive.

“Oh my goodness, you were dashing in there,” Jeenie said, biting her lower lip. “Did you see how much Experience it gave?”

I didn’t think to check.

“Appear, iPaw,” I said. The small device fell into my hand, and while I was getting used to seeing bigger numbers in the arena, I couldn’t help but gape. “Two hundred and fifty-three Experience?” I scrolled down with a flick of my thumb to see Keke had gained the same amount. I turned and imagined I was just as wide-eyed as she was. “How do you feel?”

“Stronger! Much stronger!” Keke said as she opened and closed her spare hand. The look on her face said it all. “I feel it. I’ve gone up a Level. I think I’ll grab a point of Strength.”

“Been meaning to ask since we met,” I said, feeling silly for never asking her before, “but does Strength actually help you?”

“Of course it does,” she frowned. “How else am I going to pull the string of my bow back if I don’t have the Strength to do it? Isn’t that common sense?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. I’ll explain why I asked later on.”

“Okay,” Keke smiled.

Matt has gained: 253 Base XP!
Matt has gained: 308 Class XP!
Matt is now: Base Level 10!
Matt is now: Class Level 10!

Keke has gained: 253 Base XP!
Keke has gained: 308 Class XP!
Keke is now: Base Level 9!
Keke is now: Class Level 9!

“No way,” I muttered. “I’m Level 10 now.”

“Excellent,” Cailu said, arriving just in time to hear Matt. “It was fortuitous that Jeenie still had a pricklepuck in her pens.”

“Takes a real careful hand to keep them from growing out of control, I’ll have you know,” Jeenie said, shooting him a glare.

“I am aware,” said Cailu.

“Thanks, Jeenie. Seriously,” I said, hoping to break the awkward tension between her and Cailu. They were all business all of the time, and they were mostly snippy with each other. It was like watching my parents fight all over again. “I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

Jeenie grinned. “Yeah, you will.”

Keke cuffed the bends of our elbows together and pulled me close. “Congratulations, Matt! You can become a Second Class now!”

“Second Class, huh?” I holstered my axe around the belt loop and examined the shield on my arm as I thought. Guess I couldn’t spend my time thinking about where I wanted to go with my build anymore. It was time to get an expert’s opinion on the matter. I swallowed my pride and inhaled deeply. “What options do I have, Cailu?”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “For a [Warrior], you have the option of pursuing [Battleguard] or [Myrmidon].” Cailu sniffed. “From what I understand, you have had the fortune of fighting alongside both. Which one appeals to you more?”

It was hard to say. I’d grown attached to my axe, and it didn’t seem like [Myrmidon] had many—if any—options for fighting with an axe. To learn how to use a sword, let alone a katana, felt like I’d have to re-learn my Class all over again.

Maybe I should’ve used a sword. Zahra’s attacks were incredible.

“Can I be honest without getting talked down to?” I asked, meeting Cailu’s gaze.

I don’t know why my tone sounded so angry. Maybe the weight of the world was pressing down on me. Perhaps I was starting to take my role in the world more seriously. Whatever the case, if I was going to ask for advice, I wanted to hear something fair and open-minded. Good decisions required knowledge—something I still lacked.

Cailu nodded, albeit slowly, and I continued. “Thanks. I’d like to know the difference between them.” When Cailu opened his mouth, I raised a hand. “And I need details. Not simplistic explanations. Please.”

He raised a brow.

“That goes without saying. I will pour what knowledge I have of [Battleguard] and [Myrmidon] into you.” Cailu rubbed his chin in thought. “Allow me to retrieve Zahra before we continue. I feel her input regarding [Myrmidon] will also be important.”

“Thanks, Cailu. Sorry if I came off harsh.”

“Do not trouble yourself over it,” Cailu shrugged. “Meet me in the dining room when you are ready. I will discuss it with you then.”

I nodded and watched as Cailu quietly left the arena.

“What a hardass,” said Jeenie, a hand on her hip. “Ah, well, what does it matter.” A snide smile was forming. “Did I mention how good you looked out there?”

“You did,” said Keke. “We have a few things to take care of, so we’ll see you later, Jeenie.”

Jeenie raised a brow. “Suit yourself. See you in the dining hall.”

Keke tugged me away with more force than necessary. I waited until we were a good distance away before I spoke.

“That was sudden. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keke said, flashing a smile and returning to her usual tone.

I’m not sure I’ll ever understand women.

 

A note from DoubleBlind



Everyone's a Catgirl! Volume One and Volume Two are available for pre-order now!

---

Chapter 199: Dozens of Details

Stretches of stone between square structures. Enormous pots of exotic flowering plants.

Tristan paced the courtyard, noting every detail as if preserving it to draw later. It was a habit he’d picked up long before Nyarlea—taking mental snapshots of people and places he wanted to sketch. It doubled up as a good distraction from stress and hunger on the days he only managed to scrap together enough for a couple of candy bars.

But, this time… this time it was so much harder to deflect the thoughts that plagued him.

Mosaics built into the smooth ground. Sweeping designs, powerful dragons, licks of fire.

Destiny’s soft knock at the door.

Ara’s gentle smile as she sleeps.

Pawm trees, woven furniture, curved pool.

Matt’s… Dammit!

Tristan furiously shook his head. It wasn’t just his feelings for Matt that bound his chest so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He loved Destiny and Ara—the former he’d known for years; the latter was realized during their expedition through Shi Island. And he could never say it out loud. Not to either of them.

Nyarlea would never allow it. Nor would Tristan ever put them in a position that called for rehabilitation.

Cabanas, sheer red curtains, dragon-embroidered cushions.

“Tristan?” Zahra’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He paused halfway around the enormous pool and looked up. Zahra padded down the stairs, shading her face with one hand as she peered across the water.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Tristan offered a half-hearted smile but felt it falter. Not really. “Yeah, I think so.”

Zahra frowned, then jogged around the painstakingly detailed tiled edge of the pool. Tristan sped his walk, meeting her halfway.

“I did not know there was a courtyard like this,” Zahra murmured, gaze darting to the lush cabanas and what appeared to be a portable bar.

“Everything about the late king was overly extravagant, it seems,” Tristan replied. Back on Earth, the courtyard would have easily passed as a resort pool. It felt very… modern. “We should invite the Shells to a pool party.”

“They wouldn’t all fit in here,” Zahra laughed. “Maybe the oasis would be a better choice.”

Tristan nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think Naeemah would appreciate all the sudden company anyway.”

“I believe Lady Naeemah would find a way to make it work. She resolves conflicts faster and more efficiently than anyone I have ever met.” Zahra fingered a pendant around her neck, then shook her head. “We divert from the path. What’s on your mind, Tristan?”

Tristan swallowed against the building lump in his throat. There was no way he could talk about his feelings with Zahra, not when she had the ear of a woman who could send him to face the Queen of Nyarlea with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Your face says it is far more than ‘nothing.’” Zahra placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. “You helped me achieve my quest and allowed me to fulfill the wishes of my queen. The least I can do is lend you an ear.” She took a seat in one of the cabanas, patting the cushion beside her with a grin. “You may speak freely here.”

Accepting her invitation, Tristan sat, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his thighs and clasp his hands between his knees. “It’s complicated.”

“All of the best things are.”

He rubbed his face in his hands. How can I tell her without breaking at least a dozen laws? With a deep breath, he began slowly, “So, Shi Island is my island.”

“Right.”

Dropping his arms, he lifted his face to the sky. It was a cloudless day, just broad strokes of brilliant blue. “My first three years of Nyarlea were spent in one room. Reading, drawing, studying, and sleeping with whoever was scheduled for me.”

Zahra blinked. “That sounds like a prison.”

“In a way, it was. But in other ways, it was so much easier. I knew what my days looked like, and everyone was—” he hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheeks.

“Everyone was what?” she pried gently.

“Everyone was emotionally kept at arm’s length,” he admitted, letting the words tumble free before he could stop himself. “It’s part of my job here—to keep the population going. I should be better at not feeling protective or…”

“Or love,” Zahra finished for him.

Embarrassment heated his face. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, and for a few terrifying heartbeats, Tristan feared that he’d misplaced his trust.

Then, Zahra touched his hand. “May I offer another perspective?”

“Of course.”

“We are raised to revere men. Much like the Goddess Herself, men are seen as out of reach for the majority of catgirls and are taught to respect their wishes and their time. This puts you in an extremely disadvantageous position.” Zahra squeezed his hand and drew away, resting it on her thigh.

“How so?”

“The weight of expectation upon you before you arrive is entirely unfair. Per Saoirse’s decree, men and catgirls should not show favoratism or preference. We should not be jealous of others’ positions or interactions. We must put the good of our island and of Nyarlea before our own personal feelings.” Zahra shook her head. “We are taught and trained in these things from birth. Men like you, who existed in an entirely different plain, must adapt.”

“And rehabilitation awaits us all if we fail.”

“As I said. Disadvantageous,” Zahra repeated. “When I was still a kitten, my mother told me that there were many who loved Krethik. He was brilliant, just, and kind. Much like yourself.”

Tristan blushed. “You and Ishani are too kind.”

“I imagine he felt similarly conflicted, too. Many times,” Zahra continued. “It is not a widely shared belief, but my mother told me that to deny your feelings is foolish. However, to love is to understand that you must let them go.”

Tristan’s heart sank. It was the same realization he’d come to with Ara, and he missed her more than words could say.

“I know it must hurt. Deeply. I—” it was Zahra’s turn to hesitate. She looked back toward the entrance to the citadel and surveyed the courtyard. Dropping her voice to just above a whisper, she said, “I see the same pain on Queen Naeemah’s face, and I am helpless.”

Behind Tristan’s personal turmoil, it felt as if the final piece of a puzzle he’d been waiting to solve had fallen into place. Cailu’s question of betrayal to Ravyn. His fluctuating moods. Naeemah’s solemn isolation from the rest of their group.

I am not alone.

“Dammit. It really isn’t fair,” he murmured. There was a fraction of solidarity in it. Understanding.

“It is not,” Zahra whispered. “Yet, still, we steel ourselves and press on. We must, or the whole world suffers for it.”

Tristan nodded. “You’re incredibly observant, Zahra. Cailu’s lucky to have you in his Party.”

“And it was my honor to be in yours, Tristan.” She clasped him on the shoulder. “Never stop caring for those closest to you, and may the wind carry your desires.”

“Thanks, Zahra.” He still felt frustrated and hollow, but hearing it out loud and knowing that this battle wasn’t his alone to shoulder eased some of the tension.

“Ah, there you are, Zahra!”

Cailu’s call snapped both of them to attention. Zahra leaped to her feet and offered him a quick salute.

“Come. I need your assistance.” Cailu waved a hand, gesturing for Zahra to follow.

That’s new.

“Of course, sir. Right away!” Zahra hollered. She turned to Tristan with an apologetic smile. “Come find me if you want to talk again?”

“Sure thing. Thank you, really.” He nodded toward Cailu. “Best not to keep him waiting.”

After Zahra disappeared inside the castle with Cailu, Tristan summoned Desiree. The sweet Familiar wove through his legs with a purr, then hopped into his lap. He scratched her behind the ears and leaned back, grateful for the cool breeze that toyed with his hair.

Polished white shells, tall thin torches, copper-colored wind chimes…

 

A note from DoubleBlind



Everyone's a Catgirl! Volume One and Volume Two are available for pre-order now!

---

Chapter 200: Clash of Classes

Keke and I waited in the dining hall for Cailu to return with Zahra. It was nice to spend some extra time with Keke lately, but I had to admit, it was weird not having Ravyn’s snappy retorts, Cannoli’s soft voice, or Ceres’ melodic laugh with me. I missed them. If I was being honest, I was looking forward to getting the hell out of Rājadhānī so we could all be together again.

“Are you excited?” Keke asked suddenly.

“What?”

“To hit Second Class!” She grinned and bumped her shoulder against mine. “It’s about time we reached Level 10, hm?”

“Yeah. It’s been a hell of a ride,” I replied. It sounded a lot more tired than I’d intended.

Keke searched my face. “Are you feeling okay?”

Ravyn was at the bottom of a bottle. Cannoli was in a religious crisis. Ceres was healing from a near-fatal wound thanks to my possibly condemning someone’s soul. Both Tristan and Cailu were acting strange and seemed caught in their own heads. “I’m great. Really. Nowhere to go but up, right?”

She frowned, and her ears flattened against her hair. “Matt.”

I never was very good at hiding my emotions—my face always gave me away. “Just a little homesick for Ni, I think.”

“Really?” Keke’s expression softened. “That’s…really sweet, actually.”

“Why?”

Tinges of pink bloomed across her cheeks. “Just that you see Ni Island as home. It makes me happy to hear.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Cailu and Zahra’s entrance saved me the trouble.

“Shouldn’t Tristan be here?” I asked once they’d taken seats at the table.

“As disdained as I am to admit it, Ravyn would be a better tutor in Nyarlean Magic.” Cailu adjusted his arm in his sling and rested his free hand on the table. “I have done little more than dabble in the ways of witchcraft.”

Sounds like someone’s superstitious.

“I’m sure Ravyn will be happy to teach him,” Keke said. “She seems to like teaching quite a bit.”

“Plaudits to her, then.” Cailu sniffed and waved his hand. “However, we are here to discuss Matt’s options.” He turned to face Zahra. “Would you please assist him in understanding [Myrmidon]?”

Zahra’s eyes widened, and a small gasp caught her tongue. “But, sir, you so expertly showed your skill as a [Myrmidon] in your duel against Magni. Are you certain you wish me to speak instead?”

Cailu nodded. “It is a Class I practice, but it is one you have dedicated your life to. Your experience surpasses mine.”

Zahra nodded, but I could see the excitement burning from her eyes and the pleased flick of her ears.

I couldn’t blame her. In my experience, Cailu rarely deferred to catgirls for anything. But, I’d watched him hand the city to Naeemah, Tristan had claimed he asked for Ravyn’s advice, and now this. What changed, Cailu?

“The first, and arguably the most important, aspect of [Myrmidon] is Perception.” Zahra straightened her back and clasped her hands on the table. “As you have witnessed, Perception warps how you perceive time, allowing you to make quicker movements than normal. This trait is vitally important when advancing to [Ninja] and [Samurai] Classes.”

“Right. That seems like it would take some getting used to,” I noted.

“It takes years of practice to grow comfortable with it. Timing its use and making precise strikes under Perception requires copious amounts of honing. Agility and Dexterity improve Perception’s effectiveness,” Zahra continued. “The second vital factor you must master for [Myrmidon] are the various stances. Each stance offers specific Skill enhancements depending on which stance you take. Some Skills require a certain stance to perform.”

“That must take a lot of set-up,” Keke said. “Anticipating your enemy’s moves that far in advance has to be hard.”

Not something I’ve been great with. Zahra and Cailu both used [Myrmidon] like it was second nature. Just how long had they been practicing? “Do you always have to use a sword?”

“Some Skills require a katana, but not all of them. There are a few axe Skills available, but the katana far outweighs them,” Zahra said.

“If you wish to continue with axe and shield, it may benefit you to select a different Class for the time being,” Cailu replied. “Keep in mind that Sub-Classing will be available to you, and knowledge of multiple weapons can only improve your ability to survive and adapt.”

Sounds like I’ll have a few weapons for Espada to work on. Gotta pinch my Bells. “It sounds like [Myrmidon] doesn’t have a lot of Strength. Does it not do much damage?”

Zahra shook her head. “[Myrmidon] requires a balance of Strength, Agility, and Dexterity to make it stand out. The attacks are swift and strike deep.”

“Oftentimes, a [Myrmidon]’s blows are not as violently gruesome as the blade of an axe. However, Perception is a desirable trait, and many Parties utilize a [Myrmidon] to have it on hand. It is a boon for both the user and their group,” Cailu added.

Death by a thousand cuts, then. It sounded like a powerful subclass, but I was having a hard time imagining myself with a katana. I’m cringe enough. I don’t need to add a weeb flair. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Zahra.” I turned back to Cailu. “Now, what about [Battleguard]?”

“[Battleguard]s have a dissentious reputation. They are overzealous in combat due to their Skills encouraging reckless behavior. They are known for their vicious tendencies,” Cailu began.

I thought of Erina, still ready to fight after losing her arm. Yeah, I can see that.

“Many of their Skills require a tribute of Health Points,” he said.

Keke blinked. “That sounds a little masochistic.” She looked at me. “You’d use it well, I think.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I coughed behind my hand.

“As I said. Dissentious,” Cailu continued. “Most Skills require an axe. They can use a shield, but some call for a two-handed weapon. [Battleguard]s have options that will allow you to perform offensively or as a protector for your Party. It is the only Class with a [Provoke] Skill that affects multiple targets.”

I thought about the minotaurs. I couldn’t decide if that would have helped or just gotten me killed. “Risky.”

“It is. To its credit, [Battleguard] is one of the strongest Sub-Class options. It can bridge the gap of survivability for Classes that suffer from low Health Points.”

I drummed the tabletop with my fingertips. “Honestly, that sounds more my style than [Myrmidon]. As great as you’ve both made [Myrmidon] look, I feel like I’d have to start over from the beginning to get the hang of it.”

Zahra nodded. “Wielding a katana in a fight is much different than using an axe.”

Cailu frowned. “If that is what you wish. However, Matt, if you do pursue [Battleguard], you will need to employ a capable healer.”

“I have a capable healer,” I snapped.

“You have a fledgling [Acolyte]. She may be able to stop your bleeding, but she cannot restore your Health Points—a reserve you will spend the duration of your combat draining,” Cailu retorted.

“I’m not leaving Cannoli behind.” I looked at Keke, who shook her head. Why aren’t you backing me up here?

“Matt, I want Cannoli to come with us as badly as you do. If she starts Leveling with us and ascends to Second Class, then I think we’ll be fine.” Keke laid a hand on my shoulder. “Cailu’s right.”

I wanted to shake her away. “You’re joking.”

“Nyarlothep is not for the weak-willed. You have come this far, do not squander your efforts on poor decisions and lack of observational awareness,” Cailu chided. “If you plan to bring Cannoli in her current state, you should choose [Myrmidon].”

Thanks, Dad. I hated what I was hearing. From both of them. Regardless of our disagreements, I wanted Cannoli to stay in my Party. We could get past this.

Right?

“We have some time before we depart. I could show you a few stances and help you learn the katana,” Zahra offered. “Whatever would help you make your decision.”

I worked my jaw, staring at each of them in turn. “I’ll talk to her,” I said at last. “Then I’ll choose.”

Cailu nodded, wearing the disappointed dad look well. “Our time here grows short. Do what you must. But, Matt, do not let trivial emotions withhold you from your potential.”

“Yeah. I’ll try,” I replied dryly. “Are we done here?”

Cailu shrugged his good shoulder. “If you have no further questions.”

Not for you, anyway. “I’m good.”

“Very well.” Cailu stood. “You are dismissed for the evening.”

Sir. Yes, sir. “Sure.” I pushed away from the table and stood.

“Matt, listen—” Keke started, reaching for my arm.

“I’m going to talk to Cannoli,” I interrupted. Her hand hesitated inches from my elbow. Nothing she could say would make me feel better about what had just happened. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Right. Of course.” She dropped her hand.

I left the room without another word.