Stain
Author: Neven Iliev
Date: 2022-07-14 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Fiction; Humor
Description: The world waits for no one. While Boxxy is off chasing shinies and delving dungeons abroad, Azurvale's shadows churn, fester, and ferment into a potent cocktail of trouble. Secret organizations maneuver behind the scenes, patiently advancing their nefarious plots. Government agencies lay in wait, ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. Powerful adventurers gear up and train for the next challenge, uncertain as to what form it might take. In the midst of all this, a humble scholar arrives from a distant land wholly ignorant to the mountain-sized powder keg waiting for him. Explosives prim

Everybody Loves Large Chests

Volume Eight: Stain

A book by Neven Iliev

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One – Knowledge Is Power

Chapter Two – Growing Pains

Interlude – A Family Reunion

Chapter Three – Year of the Chest

Chapter Four – Heavenly Gifts

Interlude – What Friends Are For

Chapter Five – Mind Games

Epilogue

Afterword

Prologue

Nine men and women were gathered around a ring-shaped table. The attendees’ appearances varied greatly in their age, attitude, and attire. There were only two visible traits they had in common – they were elves, and they were filthy rich. The former was clearly demonstrated by their tell-tale ears and overall lanky builds while their high-class outfits, abundant jewelry, and overall snobbish demeanor made them practically reek of old money.

Naturally, each of these individuals held a lot of political power within their home nation. Though the Ishigar Republic’s leadership was largely elected, including the highest seat of Exarch, it was nigh-impossible for anyone with this group’s financial support to lose an election. Gold was the driving force behind any publicity campaign, after all.

However, this clandestine council did not believe themselves to be facilitating corruption. While they dictated who publicly led the Republic, they didn’t do so out of some selfish interests. It was undeniable that strong leadership could elevate a nation to greatness. Conversely, the wrong person at the helm could drive the country into the ground. Differentiating between the two had been this group’s sworn duty since the Elven Dominion fell and the Ishigar Republic rose from its ashes. It wasn’t their goal to puppeteer the government to line their own pockets. They made sure the right people got the chance to do the most good they could. Though a largely benevolent goal, it was but one aspect of their operation. These nine had never hesitated to opt for a sinister solution in order to see their vision to fruition, and that was unlikely to change so long as any of them drew breath.

The Foundation of the Founding Father’s purpose was to ensure the elves survived and prospered, whatever the cost.

“Thank you all for gathering, ladies and gentlemen.”

The one to speak first was a middle-aged elf wearing a gold-rimmed monocle. His hair was lush green like spring grass, which matched the vibrant hue of his eyes. His outfit consisted of a prim, proper shirt and vest, the kind one might find on an exceedingly strict accountant. His gaze
quickly scanned the other eight in attendance as they offered curt greetings, though it lingered on the empty chair two seats to his left.

“Mr. Faleth? Still no word on Director Malon’s replacement?”

The chairman turned to the man immediately on his right, who appeared to be the youngest and flashiest in attendance. He was a handsome, dashing young man barely out of his teens, with blond streaks in his blue hair and an eye-catching white robe.

“Afraid not, Mr. Oren,” he shook his head. “His… retirement was so sudden that I hadn’t had the chance to prepare for it.”

“Surely you had some candidates in mind, yes?”

“Of course. Unfortunately, all of them were Malon’s subordinates, none of whom survived the destruction of the T2 Facility.”

Discontent began to spread on the other faces around the room. It was obvious none were happy with how that disaster unfolded, though for different reasons. Some were clear, pragmatic grievances, such as the tremendous loss of talent, material, and information. Several decades of work, hundreds of trusted people, and millions of gold pieces had instantly gone up in smoke. Naturally, not everyone deemed the ‘think tank’ a wise investment, but the majority did. The vote went through, and Malon’s division was established despite the vocal minority’s protests. Though the endeavor had yielded some fantastic results, it ultimately ended exactly as its detractors said it would. Unfortunately, the ability to say ‘I told you so’

was little consolation to those who had originally opposed the matter.

“I hereby motion we cease any efforts to revive the facility and reroute those resources elsewhere.”

The next one to speak up was one of the few women in the room. She was old, wrinkled, gray-haired, and wearing an eyepatch, but nobody on this council dared call her frail. The air she gave off was sincerely more intense than the rest, as she was one of the few among them with actual combat experience. Plenty of it, too. The way her healthy, piercing blue eye seemed to scan every shadow, crease, and crack in the chamber made it clear she was ready for an ambush at any point.

“I oppose this motion,” the half-blond youngster declared. “We are still salvaging data, records, and materials that survived the incident.”

“Incident? That’s what you’re calling it? Azurvale has a bloody crater in it!”

“Yes, and that is unfortunate, but we will lose decades of hard work and progress if we just give up on it.”

“And the civilians? When I joined this little cult, I was promised we’d serve the people first and foremost. For the most part, you’ve all been straight with me, but that little ‘incident’ is too far.”

“I can see why you feel that way, but I assure you, we set up the T2

Facility’s failsafe in a way that would minimize collateral damage.”

“That so? Then what about all the people whose rickety homes were reduced to planks and splinters with winter right around the corner? Do you realize how many among them had family that never came back from the war? How are we serving the Republic if we cannot even care for its most unfortunate citizens?!”

“We have talked at length about blind charity, Mrs. Underwood. You know it will not work.”

It was undeniable that the Foundation’s considerable financial support would make it simple to provide for Azurvale’s downtrodden and homeless.

However, past experiences showed that doing so created a generation of lazy, entitled slobs that relied on those hand-outs. These people were practically parasites – taking from society while providing very little in return. It wasn’t a favorable development in the long term. That wasn’t to say the Foundation just turned a blind eye to those people. Rather than the

‘blind charity’ Mr. Faleth spoke of, their approach was to help the poor help themselves through various employment opportunities. That way, those with the drive and courage to lift themselves out of the gutter had the ability to do so while also contributing to elven society in some way.

The Underwood woman had been told all this, and to some extent agreed, but that wasn’t what her latest argument was aimed towards.

“I am talking about dissidents,” she elaborated. “Allowing war orphans to grow up resenting the nation that sent their parents to their death is how you
end up with twisted fucks that assassinate Exarchs.”

“Noted,” the youngster nodded. “I will look into suitable outreach programs, but my stance on the T2 Facility remains firm. Tol-Saroth’s work must be revived and resumed.”

“Mrs. Underwood, Mr. Faleth,” chairman Oren spoke up, “I have allowed each of you to speak your piece, but I must ask that we shelve this discussion. I apologize for starting it by inquiring about Director Malon’s seat, but the think tank’s validity is not the subject of today’s meeting.”

The two nodded to show their agreement. They had butted heads over this topic numerous times, and they knew better than to waste the council’s time with the same old arguments when there were more pressing issues at hand.

Well, that and Underwood could tell the others were more stressed out than usual. Granted, she’d only been a part of this private club for about four years and still wasn’t all that familiar with the other members, but she could tell the turbulent events of the last six months had taken their toll. At least, it didn’t seem as though any of them would buckle under the pressure anytime soon. This was good news for Underwood, as she had some unenviable responsibilities as the acting Director of Security.

With order restored, the monocled chairman stood while grabbing a stack of folders from the table in front. He briskly walked around the room and handed each of the others a copy of the same dossier, then returned to his seat.

“What I’ve just handed you all is the information we’ve been able to gather on the Gilded Hand’s recent movements. While the data is limited, I think we can all agree that it is deeply concerning.”

That was an understatement. Judging by the Foundation’s intelligence, the rogue spy organization was preparing some kind of large-scale operation. It was impossible to be certain what their end goal was, as the Empire’s former Spymaster trained his people well. They knew how to cover their tracks, yet they couldn’t fully obfuscate something on this scale. From what the Foundation’s agents and contacts had discovered, the Gilded Hand was smuggling a lot of weapons, supplies, and alchemical materials throughout the entire continent. The information also strongly suggested they had something to do with some disappeared dungeon cores. That last bit was
perhaps the most concerning. Everyone on this council was aware what those things were capable of thanks to the now defunct think tank’s efforts to revive Tol-Saroth’s research.

“Mrs. Underwood,” the chairman turned to the one-eyed granny. “You are familiar with Allen, yes?”

“… Could say that, yes.”

Though she didn’t like to talk about it, the mere mention of that bastard’s name made her missing eye throb. She could have fixed the injury in any number of ways, but she refused. It was an excuse to retire from active duty so she could teach and guide the next generation of spies. It also served as a constant reminder to never trust humans, no matter their apparent allegiance.

“Your thoughts?” Oren asked.

“War,” she bluntly stated. “That’s all the man lives for. His attempts to sick the Emperor on us were exposed, so he’ll be taking matters into his own hands.”

“I see. I imagine it won’t be something as simple as marching an army across our borders. I assume you have some ideas how to prepare for this incursion, whatever form it may take?”

“I do, indeed.”

“Excellent. Those in favor of allowing Mrs. Underwood to handle the impending Gilded Hand attack, please raise your hands.”

There was instantaneous, unanimous agreement. Of course, they’d let her handle it. None of the rest were remotely qualified for this kind of stuff, and she was the head of the Foreign Intelligence Bureau on top of Director of Security for the Foundation itself. The vote was mostly a formality.

“I will require financial aid, however,” she added. “The FIB’s budget is already rather stretched, and I will need to hire some… independent contractors.”

“Hm, I see. Mr. Luhorn?”

“Mmmyees?”

Some might call this man pleasantly rounded if they were being nice, or morbidly obese if they were being honest. The only reason he hadn’t died of a heart attack was because he paid a Lifebinder Alchemist to replace his blood-pump with a hobgoblin’s. He was a man whose vocabulary did not contain the word ‘moderation,’ and his attire reflected this. Extravagant fur coats, only the finest of silks underneath, and an overwhelming amount of jewelry were his standard go-to. His was, without a doubt, one of the wealthiest families in the world. It was no surprise the Foundation entrusted him with the position of Director of Finances. As a de-facto treasurer, it was his duty to manage the organization’s expenses as well as ensure each council member made adequate contributions. Though he didn’t look it, the sheer vigor with which he crunched numbers would put even the most zealous of tax collectors to shame.

“What is it, Mr. Oren?” he wheezed, plump cheeks wobbling.

“How much support can we offer Mrs. Underwood?”

“As much as is needed. My department saw considerable growth this year, and without T2’s operating costs to worry about, we have an abundance of idle resources awaiting exploitation at the moment.”

“I do not think this is wise,” the youngster protested.

“I assure you, Mr. Faleth,” the rounded accountant replied, “this will in no way impact your ongoing restoration efforts.”

“Thank you, Mr. Luhorn, but that is not my concern. While I agree the Gilded Hand poses a credible threat, there is a more immediate issue I wish to bring to the council’s attention.”

He pulled a multi-colored crystal from an inner pocket and used a casual gesture to float it over to the middle of the ring-shaped table. He flicked his wrist, and the item produced a lifelike one-to-one scale illusion of a certain individual who’d made a bit of a name for himself during these turbulent times.

“The Sandman?” one of the other members exclaimed. “Was he not on our payroll?”

“He was, Mrs. Virran. However, my sources have uncovered that he is the mastermind behind the attack on our think tank. Without his interference,
the ‘independent contractors’ that Mrs. Underwood is thinking of would never have found the facility.”

Those words clearly annoyed the old FIB director. She intensely disliked how much that guy obsessed over the monster factory, and she didn’t appreciate the way he indirectly accused her of sabotaging it. Sure, he didn’t say it, but he’d been implying it for weeks. She didn’t dare talk back, though. While he looked the youngest, Rhistel Faleth was the Foundation’s oldest member. He’d been here long before any of them were born and would remain long after they were dead. Some say he personally knew Ivran Tol-Saroth – the man whose actions led to the fall of the tyrannical Elven Dominion and allowed the Ishigar Republic to rise from its ashes four centuries ago. It was hard to argue with someone with that much influence, but Underwood would be damned if she didn’t at least try.

“Are you sure of your findings?” she questioned. “From what I know of him, he’s a mercenary to a fault. All else aside, he won’t make a move like this unless there was some big payday in it for him.”

“That so? What if he were to protect an investment?”

Faleth flicked his wrist, and the realistic image flickered from a towering man in a dark cloak to an armored dwarf carrying a crimson-haired catgirl wrapped in a stained bedsheet. This caused quite a stir within the council.

“My people extracted this image from remnants of the facility’s security systems just this morning,” the ancient elf explained. “As I’m sure you’re aware, that is Keira Morgana, the Hero of Chaos and de-facto face of our victory against the Empire. How and why she ended up in that situation is currently unknown, but it is indisputable she was being held in the facility.”

He flicked his wrist, and the bedsheet disappeared from the image to reveal the profane alchemical crystal embedded in her upper back. Everyone present knew what that meant, but none could imagine why and how a dead Hero would end up on Director Malon’s operating table. While there were very troubling implications, one thing was clear.

“I see. So, this is the investment you mentioned.”

It now made sense to Underwood why the enigmatic Sandman would risk breaching that facility, though there was one thing she didn’t quite
understand.

“Wait, did you actually find records of him being there?”

“No. No sightings, either, but we recovered information from the Slyth family that he orchestrated the assault. Given his careful personality, he likely did so remotely through his familiars, one of which was also sighted.”

A flick and a flicker later, the illusion transformed to that of a blue-skinned succubus burning her way through a massive steel bulkhead.

“May I ask why you failed to inform us of this until now?” the chairman asked.

“My people are still piecing the magically recorded data together. I wanted to be certain their findings weren’t… tainted.”

“Tainted? How?”

“It would appear the artificial core’s destruction had corrupted much of the data it stored. Most of the records and images we pulled from its fragmented remains were warped in ways that made it difficult to ascertain their legitimacy.”

Though he didn’t share it with the council, one such example was a snapshot of a stereotypical treasure chest adorned with a lab coat and wig that made it vaguely resemble Professor Honoka. This stood out in Faleth’s mind as the woman in question had been the one most likely to succeed Malon as Director of Research. Nobody knew what that image originally was, and they likely never would.

“This is a fault that we must be sure to rectify when we rebuild it,” he added.

“Before you do any of that,” Underwood interjected, “I have more questions about the breach.”

“I will attempt to answer as best I can.”

“This Sandman, how do you suppose he found the facility in the first place?”

“Currently unknown. We are still scrubbing the site for any traces of information, so I am hopeful I will have more for you when we next meet.

However, it is a lot of ground to cover, so to speak.”

“I think I might offer a direction for you to look in.”

“If you can offer some insight, I will gladly take it under advisement, Mrs.

Underwood.”

“Have you considered that this Sandman might have been one of Malon’s creations? Or perhaps a candidate for one?”

“That seems… unlikely.”

“Perhaps, but not impossible. The feeling I get from him is very similar to a certain friend none of us like to talk about.”

She nodded at a lighthouse painting on the wall behind Director Malon’s empty chair, reminding the council of the man’s greatest contribution to the Foundation. Namely, a certain banker that liked to pretend he wasn’t a ruthless, shapeshifting monster. Of course, that was pure speculation. Mrs.

Underwood had no way of knowing what, if any, connection Reginald Namhel might’ve had to the Sandman. She’d never even met the Warlock in person, but she knew all one could know about him through reports made by his handler during the war – one Silus Underwood, no relation. The man described the towering vigilante as a clever, careful schemer that never made a move without planning it out thoroughly and was well-versed in subterfuge. In short, exactly the sort of skillset one would expect from a seasoned doppelganger.

“Curious,” the azure blond pondered. “While I know not what led you to this conclusion, I will trust your instincts and look into it.”

The man simply hoped that Mrs. Underwood was seeing patterns where none existed, but he’d seen stranger things throughout his extended lifetime. Many of those oddities could be traced back to Tol-Saroth’s meddling with otherworldly forces. As the late sage himself had told him on numerous occasions, gazing into the Beyond was a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. Rhistel Faleth would know, given that his perpetual youth was the result of one such experiment. Naturally, none of the other council members suspected this. They all believed he was
a drow – the next step in the Rank Up ladder after high elf. This deception was necessary, as the youthful-looking fraud felt that the entire Foundation would fall apart if they knew how it actually started.

Then again, perhaps the organization had reached a point where having that dirty secret exposed would not significantly impact it. Its goals and deeds were far too important for petty squabbles to tear it apart. However, Faleth could not know that for sure. He always struggled with ‘big picture’ stuff.

That was why he resigned himself to the obscure and often overlooked Department of Conservation. His job was merely recovering and preserving artifacts and relics relating to the Elven Dominion and Tol-Saroth’s work. It was only his reputation and perceived knowledge that made the others consider his opinion so heavily.

In reality, the man himself was little more than a test subject turned glorified janitor. He had never been the smartest, quickest, or strongest person in the room, and even his current position was little more than a fluke. He considered his only real talent to be faking competence, and he lived in constant dread of the day when his inadequacies would be exposed.

He was also looking forward to it, as Mrs. Virran would be able to find someone far more capable to take his place. She had never failed to recruit excellent and dedicated people in all the decades since she became Director of Personnel, including the scary spy lady.

Rhistel was, ironically, vastly underestimating himself. The Foundation would have surely strayed from its original purpose if not for the man’s commitment to its ideals and centuries of accumulated wisdom. He was the secret ingredient that kept this stew called the Republic from turning rotten, and his latest insight would surely keep it intact for a while longer. Not that the man considered himself that important. The same went for his

‘revelation’ that the Sandman was an immense threat, which he assumed the other council members had figured out for themselves. They were all immensely talented, gifted, and successful individuals, after all. Yes, all of them had a considerable head start in life, but they wouldn’t be at this meeting if they merely wallowed in their inherited success instead of building upon it.

Surely, Rhistel imagined, such people would not fail to recognize the obvious danger posed by someone with the ability to compel dryads into
action.

Chapter One

Knowledge Is Power

Part One

Light flashed within the depths of the Dryad’s Domain, directly beneath the pulsating dungeon core. The gangly figure of a half-plant, half-doppelganger appeared out of thin air, its arms wrapped around a female spriggan of very generous proportions. The hylt creeper immediately released the tree-woman, but Ambrosia continued to cling to it with a pout.

“‘Twas most unkind of you, milord,” she complained. “Thou truly art selfish.”

“Yeah, I got a bit carried away,” Boxxy replied. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

In retrospect, its excitement over the shiny box was rather pathetic. Yet, the greedy monster did not regret its actions. It understood that it acted poorly in the grand scheme of things, but some part of it had determined that the mithril chest called the Vessel of Dreams was worth the dryad’s ire.

Assuming, of course, she actually was as ticked off as she seemed on the surface.

“Hmm… I suppose it could not be helped. Milord is still young and impulsive. Such errors art understandable and expected. I am willing to overlook this lapse in thy judgement.”

Despite her stern words and tone, Boxxy could easily tell she was putting on an act. Rather than being cross, she seemed rather happy that the shapeshifter bothered to go back and collect her. It had no need to do so.

That spriggan body would only last a week before it expired and the consciousness within returned to its rightful place. That seemed like quite the delay to most people, but to a millennia-old tree spirit it might as well have been seconds. There was no way such a thing would actually bother Ambrosia, yet she saw fit to put on this thin veneer of displeasure. Boxxy wasn’t sure what she hoped to achieve by doing this, but it figured it couldn’t hurt to humor her and play along.

“I appreciate your consideration. I will be more careful in the future.”

“However!” she raised her tone. “Mine forgiveness is not offered freely. If thy wishes to have it, then thee must perform a favor.”

Now things were starting to make sense. Well, somewhat. Boxxy fully expected Ambrosia would start making demands of it ever since she broke free of the dungeon core’s influence. The shapeshifter wasn’t against helping her out with some reasonable tasks so long as it got to continue using this extremely convenient, highly secure lair. It was like paying rent, more or less. The puzzling part was why Ambrosia chose such a roundabout way of doing it. She could’ve just said ‘do this or I will kick you out’ and that would’ve been that. On second thought, she probably didn’t have it in her to follow through on such a threat. As far as Boxxy was aware, the dryad had grown quite fond of its company. She carved its name and deeds into her own heartwood, after all. Ambrosia wouldn’t want to risk severing that bond over a selfish request.

Whatever her motives, the creature felt equal parts curious and cautious about this proposition. First things first, though.

“Uh, before we talk about this any further, could you please let go of me?”

it politely asked. “It’s getting kind of hard to breathe…”

“Ah! Apologies, milord.”

The spriggan let go of the doppelganger, allowing it to move freely. It wasn’t like she was actually strangling it, though. Truthfully speaking, the monster felt like it could turn the plant-lady into splinters in an instant if it tried, though such violence would genuinely upset her. At the same time, her embrace was growing quite un-tasty, as those bark-covered hands of hers were hardly comfortable. Hence, it simply opted to ask nicely with a bit of embellishment. As for the dryad, she looked around her own trunk’s interior for a bit before speaking up again.

“I suppose I should slip into something more comfortable while I am at it.”

Five large leaves suddenly sprouted out of the wooden floor, prompting Boxxy to take a few steps back on reflex. They wrapped themselves around the spriggan, forming a cocoon of vegetation around her. A bright green light poured out of the gaps between them for a few seconds before they retreated back into the ground. The spriggan’s lifeless body collapsed on the spot and started crumbling while the hylt tree encasing the dungeon returned to its usual vibrant appearance. The original all-green Ambrosia
rose out of the floor, arching her back and stretching her arms as if she had just woken up.

“Ahh… ‘Tis much better!” she exclaimed with a relaxed sigh. “‘Twas fun keeping milord company, but that shape was far too small for mine liking.”

She then suddenly remembered she was supposed to be upset, so she erased her soothing smile and adopted a sterner expression.

“Milord. Wilt thou hear mine request?”

“Asking is free,” it shrugged.

“Ah… ‘Tis harder to talk about than I thought… Um, doth milord perchance know of what spring means to the hylt?”

“A little. It’s when your flowers are supposed to bloom at their fullest, right?”

“Indeed, though there is more to it. ‘Tis the time of the year when pollination is most likely to succeed. That is what I want milord to assist me with.”

A chill ran down Boxxy’s spine, as it suddenly got a very bad feeling about where this ‘favor’ was headed.

“During our outing, I ran across a remarkable specimen.”

“… Specimen?”

“Yes, milord. ‘Twas one of the dungeon’s overseers. She called herself a mountain alraune. She and I were very… compatible. I wish to cross-pollinate with one of her kind, but I know not from whence they hail.”

“So, your favor… is to find one of those and bring it to you?”

“‘Tis so.”

“Oh, thank all that is shiny!” Boxxy loudly proclaimed. “For a minute there I thought you were going to tell me to fertilize you or something.”

As ridiculous as it was, the shapeshifter could see Ambrosia blurting out such a request, given how attached she had become to it. This was usually a good thing, as maintaining good relations with what was essentially its home base was of crucial importance. At the same time, however, it was
wary of their relationship becoming more intimate. Boxxy already had its hands full pretending to care for Rowana as Keira and entertaining Snack’s urges, so it really didn’t want to waste time and energy on a third pink-minded woman.

“… Ah!” exclaimed Ambrosia after a brief moment of silence.

“Ah, crap.”

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ was written all over her face. If hylt trees could cross-pollinate with any plant monster, surely Boxxy would be a viable candidate even thought it was a hybrid species.

“No, never mind,” the dryad quickly gave up. “The goal of cross-pollination is to absorb the traits of others in order to strengthen my own.

There would be no merit to doing so with another of the hylt, such as milord.”

“Oh.”

“… It is still possible though, if milord wishes it,” she added with a small smile.

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Boxxy had a sneaking suspicion that the act, whatever it involved, would not be as fruitless as Ambrosia thought. This was exactly the sort of thing the Agent of Chaos Skill liked to blow way out of proportion.

“So, an alraune, huh?” Boxxy quickly changed the topic. “I’ve read a bit about them, but I’m not all that familiar with the species.”

It only knew the creatures were native to the southern continent and that even a mild winter would kill them off, hence why they were practically impossible to find anywhere else. Alraune were also similar to mimics in that they were ambush predators, though they drew in potential victims with intoxicating scents rather than the promise of treasure. That was as much as Boxxy learned about the subject before it gave up. The only reason it bothered to look into the monsters was because it heard they had some valuable secretions that were quite potent as alchemical reagents. It wasn’t a venture worth pursuing if it involved having to cross the ocean. However, if

Ambrosia met this ‘mountain’ variant in that frozen dungeon, then it could surely be found in the wild. Ideally, somewhere less… intercontinental.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

That was the shapeshifter’s way of saying it was going to postpone the task indefinitely unless a good opportunity presented itself.

“If thou finds me a suitable mate by spring, I swear to give thee a fittingly delicious reward.”

However, Ambrosia had a firm grasp on its personality and knew just what to say to get its attention. In her eyes, Boxxy was the type of child that responded to rewards much better than threats or punishment. Her hunch was proven correct when the shapeshifter’s attitude made a complete one-eighty at the mere mention of tasty compensation.

“Delicious reward? Like what?” it asked eagerly.

“Should the cross-pollination succeed, I will be able to augment the flavor of mine fruits and nectar. Truthfully speaking, it has been too long since the last time I hath done this, so their taste has actually grown a bit stale.

However, I am confident that an alraune will help them reach new heights.”

“Alright, I’ll do it!”

Boxxy didn’t give a flying damn about the fruits, but a dryad’s nectar was without a doubt one of the tastiest things that had ever crossed its tongue.

Not just in its raw form, either. Ambrosia used it liberally in many of her recipes to spectacular effect. The shapeshifter hadn’t even dreamed that the bounty of her bosom was capable of ‘reaching new heights,’ but the gluttonous monster would do everything in its power to make it happen.

“I just need to find one by spring, right? It’s still the early stages of winter, so that should give me three or four months at least!”

“It is good to see milord so motivated, but please do not sacrifice thine own health for this.”

“… Huh?”

“The… profane object lodged in thy back. Did thou not wish to address it?”

“Oh, right. The soulstone.”

Between looking for Fizzy, conquering a new dungeon, and getting excited over new flavors, Boxxy had very nearly forgotten about the souvenir left over from its death-defying encounter with the Foundation. The same thing that might yet prove to be an entirely temporary lease on life. This wasn’t the time to sleep around in shiny chests and seek out new taste sensations.

“Ambrosia, I’ll be getting busy again. Might have to leave town for a while, depending on how things go.”

“If thou deems it necessary, then I wish thee a safe trip, milord. Mine proxy shalt gladly accompany thee again if thou wishes it. Until then, I shall take my leave to tend to mine branches, bark, and roots. I suspect certain vermin may have wriggled their way in during mine absence.”

The dryad sank into the ground, leaving Boxxy to concentrate on invoking Summon Familiar. The pet demons it left behind in the dungeon had already vanished since they were too far away from Azurvale for the contract to keep them alive, so it had to conjure them some new bodies. It began with Snack, who appeared in front of it after several seconds of channeling and a flash of light. She had her usual provocative outfit, outrageous proportions, and alluring smile. Ironically, these features were completely wasted on the one she wanted to entice the most.

“Hello, Master,” she said with a respectful bow. “Did you sleep well in your new bed?”

“Incredibly well, yes.”

“I am glad to hear that. Then could I ask you to stuff my ass full of-”

“Later,” it cut her off. “First, I need you to visit Reggie and see what he found out about my soulstone.”

The doppelganger capo was supposedly chasing a promising lead before Boxxy left town, so it was good to find out what he had uncovered since then.

“At once, Master.”

The djinn took a bow and left to fulfill her mission while her master got busy calling out the next familiar. Its MP had already been largely restored thanks to its Hylt Metabolism, so it wasted no time in summoning Claws. It
took a moment to appreciate the webstalker’s newer, shinier countenance.

Her ice-like carapace glistened enticingly under the dungeon core’s yellow light.

“Tktktktkt… H-h-hello, M-Master…”

The extra attention Boxxy lavished on Drea only made the arachnid demoness fidget that much more than usual, though her nervous ticks only amplified her shininess. Even if they were minute, her body’s spontaneous movements constantly changed the angle at which the light hit her multifaceted carapace. Between her and the mithril treasure chest known as the Vessel of Dreams, Boxxy felt it was perhaps a good thing Fizzy wasn’t around. It just might have gone comatose from shininess overload if she was.

“Living shinies are the best shinies after all,” it mumbled, satisfied.

Truthfully speaking, it could probably waste hours just staring at her, and it wouldn’t regret it a single bit. In fact, it had already done so multiple times with the absent golem. Even if it had grown somewhat jaded and accustomed to the allure of gold coins, these constantly changing visages held a certain brilliance that no inanimate object could replicate. That was why it was so adamant about reclaiming the former gnome in the first place, as it could never get tired of her. No statue could ever match her radiance for long. Even the luster of that chest it got from Goroth would grow dull and tired if given enough time.

Boxxy shook the errant thoughts away and turned its attention back to Claws. There was a time and place for appreciating shiny things, but right now it needed to focus on the task at hand.

“Claws! Go find someone tasty and deliver them to Ambrosia! I don’t care if it takes all day or how far you have to go, just get me the highest quality meat around!”

It had been far too long since Boxxy had enjoyed the dryad’s cuisine. Just thinking about it made it salivate so hard there was a non-zero chance it might drown on its drool.

“Alright! I won’t let you down, Master!”

The webstalker responded in high spirits, infected by the sheer fervor with which those orders were delivered. Her body shimmered out of view as she departed the dungeon, leaving Boxxy to consider its next move. It wanted to address two more points of interest raised by its recent demise.

One was the nature of that mysterious pink mana sponge of a gem. It vividly remembered when it summoned Arms the first time after its resurrection and how she coughed up the item in question. This obviously meant it had some link to the Beyond, as there was no other feasible explanation. The fact that it had somehow absorbed and then released the contents of Boxxy’s Storage was also indicative of some sort of spatial magic. It knew from its experiences with the Transfamiliar Spell that those two aspects produced very interesting results when combined. It wanted to know more about this gemstone and whether its bizarre properties could be somehow weaponized. So, it summoned the aforementioned fiend in order to question her. Boxxy wasn’t expecting much from the thick-headed horndog, but it didn’t know where else to start.

“Yo, boss! How’s it hanging?”

Kora greeted her master with a triple-handed wave. This gesture indicated to Boxxy that she was relatively relaxed at the moment. Though the archfiend herself wasn’t aware of it, she had a habit of gesticulating with a different number of limbs depending on her mood. It was an easy to understand excitement scale that went from one to six. Usually her mental state wasn’t worth considering, but Boxxy actually had to pick her brain for once. A three out of six was more or less ideal for that.

“Arms, what can you tell me about that shiny you coughed up after the contract was reestablished?”

“Uh, what?”

“I’m talking about this, idiot.”

The doppelganger held out the item.

“Oh! That thing! Yeah, I remember now.”

“So? Can you tell me anything about it that might be useful? Anything at all.”

“Now that you mention it, I guess the summoning that time felt a bit weird.

I just thought it was ‘cus you kinda died, and there weren’t any problems after that, so I didn’t worry about it too much.”

“Different how?”

“Well, normally whenever you call me out there’s a ‘Fwooosh!’ that turns into a ‘Eeeeek!’ and then it’s all ‘Khrrrrrr!’ for a short bit, and then there’s a

‘Bam-bam-bam-DON!’ and I’m here. But that time the last bit felt more like a ‘Skrrrrrra!’ and then a ‘Pak-kak-kak-POP!’ Know what I mean?”

“… I think I do, actually.”

Boxxy was, surprisingly enough, able to make sense of the archfiend’s abstract noises, gestures, and facial expressions. Maybe it was a side effect of being temporarily fused with her during the Malefic Union, or perhaps it was due to the mental clarity following that extremely satisfying nap.

Whatever the case, it attached meaning to what would otherwise be the nonsense of a moron that was so thick-headed it was a wonder she didn’t forget how to breathe. It would appear some external force had interfered in the final stages of the summoning process. Considering the fact that a certain pink gem had been lodged in her throat when she appeared, the culprit was rather obvious. Did the item somehow hijack the demon’s entry into the physical realm in order to transport itself? That would certainly explain its appearance, though it raised far more questions than it answered.

“… Arms? What’re you doing?”

When Boxxy next turned its attention to the archfiend, it found her staring at the magical shiny thing in its hand. Her attention was so fixated on the object she didn’t even respond to its words. Intrigued by this odd behavior, the shapeshifter moved the gemstone around. Up, down, left, right –
wherever the jewel went, her gaze silently followed. It was somewhat amusing, but it had better things to do.

“Arms!” it called out once more, this time using the thought-link to yell directly into her mind.

“Huh?! Wha?!” the shocked archfiend shifted her gaze towards Boxxy.

“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with my shiny?”

“Uh, sorry boss. It’s just that, I never realized it before, but that pink thing is kind of pretty, isn’t it?”

‘Kind of pretty’ was certainly one way of putting it. If Boxxy had to be blunt, this stone was a strong contender for the title of Shiniest Gem in its possession, mostly due to its exotic coloring and exceptional clarity. Arms’s sudden interest was quite baffling, though. It was rather absurd for a demonic entity to bother with material things. Perhaps it was due to whatever demonic magics this thing possessed? Or maybe a side effect of its interference with her summoning that one time?

“Damn, the questions just keep increasing, don’t they?” it grumbled.

“Master, forgive me for intruding on your conversation,” butted in Xera,

“but may I point something out?”

She had been able to listen in on the latter part of Boxxy and Kora’s discussion, as the pair had moved from verbal to telepathic communication without realizing it. Then again, the former mimic had spent so much of its life conversing exclusively with thoughts that it found telepathy more natural than speaking, especially when it came to orderings its demons around. All things considered, the fact that it had used its voice at all in the first place was actually kind of weird.

“What is it, Snack?”

“I’m not sure what you were talking about, but I wouldn’t take anything that moron says too seriously. If it’s about that square gemstone you got from whatshisface the Ranger, the pink color probably just reminded her of a virgin pussy or something.”

“Oh yeah, it kinda does, actually!” exclaimed Kora.

“See what I mean? She’s so simple minded she might as well be a rabid mutt.”

“Hey! I may not be as smart as the boss, but I’m not going to be an idiot forever!”

“Ha! As if! Leave the miracles to the gods, sweetie.”

“Laugh all you want, but you’ll see! I actually met a guy that- Oh, shit!

Boss, I almost forgot!”

“What is it now?” Boxxy was getting annoyed.

“You still need a dungeon master for your base, right? You could contract a ranker demon to fill that spot!”

“Oh? Hmm…”

That didn’t seem like a terrible idea. If Goroth could have a djinn as his dungeon’s manager, then surely a Hero could do the same. The only reason it hadn’t tried before was that it wasn’t even aware that was an option.

“Would anyone actually accept that deal?” asked Xera. “Even if the Master is exceptional, I don’t think any demon would take on the job of tending to its hoard. No matter how important any of us think it is, it’s still a rather dull undertaking.”

Snack raised a very valid point. Generally speaking, the demons’ interest in the physical realm was purely for entertainment purposes. A dungeon master position, for example, would let them boss around the dungeon’s monsters while also having fun with any intruders. However, Boxxy’s lair would ideally have none of those things. The only thing a dungeon master would do there was sit still and maybe talk with the dryad every now and then. They wouldn’t even be able to tune into Gilligan’s broadcasts of Boxxy’s adventures if they weren’t in the Beyond, so there was actually a net loss of fun.

“Actually, I already got a guy willing to do it,” revealed Kora. “His name is Khurpath Sordazzurr. He’s the gazer demon I fought in the dungeon. He said he’s curious about me, the boss, and our potation.”

“… You mean potential?” Boxxy guessed.

“Yeah, that. He wants to track our progress up close and personal. And he’s probably super smart. Might be able to teach us a thing or two. Maybe he even knows something about the Pussy Stone!”

“Please tell me we’re not actually calling it the Pussy Stone,” Xera groaned.

“Why not? Jealous the boss wants none of your stretched-out snatch?”

“Keep talking like that and you won’t get any of it.”

“Like I care! I get to pound Teresa on the regular now, remember?!”

“Really? That frigid bitch? I can’t imagine she’d be any fun.”

“Bitch is right! She becomes a total sopping mess whenever I shove both my dicks down her-”

“Quiet!” Boxxy roared through the mind-link. “I’m trying to think.”

That annoyance settled, the shapeshifter carefully considered the fiend’s suggestion regarding the Ranked Up beholder. It was undeniably an attractive proposition, as information was the one thing the creeper was in dire need of at the moment. Not only about the mysterious arcane gemstone and the soulstone that may or may not be keeping it alive, but also regarding the flower monsters Ambrosia wanted to pollinate with. On the other hand, it was especially distrustful of the demon’s goals. Ulterior motives and secret agendas were part of the whole beholder package, and the fact that this one volunteered for a position implied some deeper plot.

Even if his goals weren’t directly harmful to Boxxy, the monster had a feeling it would get dragged into something bothersome and/or dangerous.

Plus, it wasn’t sure if a dungeon master contract was as strict as the familiar version. Even its Level 10 Demonology Skill didn’t have those details, though it could always call Carl for the information.

“I’ll keep the offer in mind,” it proclaimed. “For the time being, I want Arms to remain here and assist Ambrosia with anything she may need.

Claws and Snack have their orders. I expect quick, concise reports on any new developments.”

Each demon responded affirmatively, though Kora’s mood lessened to two crossed arms. She clearly was not enthusiastic about her duties. Boxxy ignored her unspoken complaints and got ready to head out into Azurvale. It had some time to kill while Snack checked in with Reggie, so it wanted to see if it could find out more about mountain alraune at any of the Central Consortium’s adventuring guilds. It would similarly seek anyone it might consult on the subject of the pink gemstone. It wanted to avoid turning to unknown demonic entities for answers until it had exhausted all other options.

However, since Keira was still supposed to be out on her private mission with the Sandman as her escort, it had to adopt an entirely new identity.

This was a good opportunity, so it decided to infiltrate a new adventurer
organization as a rookie member. Since it was already a Warlock, the Maleficium was the most obvious choice. Alternatively, it could try to enroll in Broken Mirror, which dealt with more reputable Caster Jobs, but that would mean starting from scratch as a Level 1 Wizard or a Pyromancer.

It had an open Job slot, but that wasn’t the issue here.

It was about its cover. Rather than a throwaway identity, it wanted to set up another alter ego – one that could be used repeatedly without drawing any attention. A total newbie going through the building’s archives and records looking for a very specific monster was sure to raise some eyebrows. It was better to act as someone relatively new but not completely green. Such people could be seen all the time in the Consortium’s library, so the front would be far less suspicious. Not to mention that said library was on the same floor as the Maleficium’s offices, so this setup was rather convenient.

The doppelganger began formulating its third Facade. Unlike Keira or the Sandman, this one would need to be far more boring and mundane. The monster shapeshifted into a lanky-looking male elf in his early twenties. He wore a thick, black robe intended to shield him from the winter cold rather than amplify his magic. His green hair was oily and unkempt, he was perpetually hunched over, and his personality was that of a reserved, quiet bloke who wasn’t very good at socializing. He was a completely stereotypical bookworm, no matter how one looked at him.

As for the new personae’s identity, Boxxy would play the part of one Bate Enswich, an elf born and raised within the Empire. He faced a certain amount of prejudice during his upbringing, so he was never quite comfortable there. He finally made up his mind to move to the Republic following the war, though it took him some time to organize the funds to do so. It was a completely reasonable and, more importantly, believable turn of events given the current political climate. Having established a baseline for the new Facade’s background, Boxxy began to consider what to put on its Status via Essence Concealment. A Level 20-something Warlock and member of the Empire’s Order of the Black Wand was a good place to start.

The young mister Enswich would also have the Demonology Skill, which solidified his thirst for knowledge and-Nope, that wouldn’t do at all, actually. Boxxy had momentarily forgotten, but Essence Concealment was unable to lower the apparent Level of a Job.

It could hide the whole thing or show all of it, neither of which would work.

Besides, adventurers with familiars, pets, or other creatures under their control were required by law to register their minions with their guild. That way, the records could be used to easily identify the culprit should said subordinate be used to commit a crime via proxy, so it was by no means an unreasonable requirement. The problem was that the registration process involved a Basic Appraisal check to note the bound creatures’ names and species. Since Boxxy’s Essence Concealment didn’t extend to its servants, it wouldn’t be able to mask its subordinates’ identities. In other words, it’s only option was to show up as a high-Level Warlock with one or more Ranked Up demons under his control, which would surely set off all kinds of alarms. That was the exact opposite of what the ‘Bate Enswich’ persona was supposed to accomplish.

It would appear the monster would need to use a different means of infiltrating the Maleficium.

“Snack, where are you right now?”

“I am still en route to Reggie’s bank, Master. I should arrive shortly.”

“Hold it. I need your advice on something before you enter the building. I want to get inside the Central Consortium’s library to check a few things out, but I can’t think of a good cover.”

“Ah, I see. It’s still too early for Keira to return, and masquerading as a new adventurer would be troublesome.”

“Exactly.”

While Snack’s head may have been filled with nothing but lewd thoughts, her talent for infiltration and deception was still intact. She immediately understood Boxxy’s dilemma. She probably even knew about the bureaucracy involved, as the practice of cataloguing familiars was the standard across the continent since time immemorial.

“Pardon my ignorance, Master, but why not just visit the library as a civilian?”

“… Huh?”

“The Consortium’s library is still open to the general public, right? All Keira’s membership does is make it free and let her see some more sensitive materials. And if that doesn’t work, you can always get a consultation or put in a Quest.”

“Oh… Oh! Right! Yes! Of course!”

Boxxy was so caught up in its own bullshittery that it failed to grasp this painfully obvious solution. Visiting the Consortium under the guise of a random citizen was much simpler and faster than crafting a full-fledged Facade. The monster was so accustomed to complicated schemes and elaborate stories that it didn’t even consider there was a normal, proper way to go about things. And, if it ever needed sensitive information that badly in the future, nobody in their right mind would think to deny or question Keira.

“Good work, Snack.”

“You are most welcome, Master. In fact, I can swing by on the way back from Reggie’s place and look up whatever it is you want to know. I’ll even make that old fart hand over some gold. That way it won’t cost you anything and you can just keep taking it easy.”

That was a very tasty proposition. It just went to show how useful a servant could be once properly motivated. Speaking of which, it would probably be a good idea if it took care of Snack’s needs sometime soon. She had done an exemplary job during the raid on the Palace of the Crystal Maiden, and even managed to present it with a Prismatic Cloak. It was just the kind of helpful attitude it wanted to reinforce.

“Alright, let’s do that,” it consented.

“Understood, Master. What is it you were planning to investigate?”

“I want to research alraune, the mountain variant in particular.”

“Really? Might I ask for what purpose?”

“I made a deal with Ambrosia to bring her one by spring, so I need to know where and how I can get one.”

“Oh! Well, you’re in luck, Master!” exclaimed Xera. “I happen to know exactly where you can find those!”

It would appear that the ex-succubus was full of surprises today.

Later on she would also be full of bigger, harder, and more numerous things once Boxxy got around to giving her that extra-special reward.

Part Two

Xera confidently strode towards the Namhel Brothers Bank main office.

Her guise was an upper-class human lady who wore an extravagant coat with poise and dignity. The part she’d be playing was of a foreign big-shot here to drop in on ‘an old friend.’ It was hardly conspicuous since Reginald Namhel, despite secretly being a doppelganger crime boss, was sure to have all kinds of connections. Or, perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was because of the man’s true nature that such high-power relationships existed in the first place. Naturally, this was all a front for Reggie’s hapless employees. The affluent banker would seldom turn away a visit from an unfamiliar face. The ‘ganger was the head of a private network of shapeshifters, after all. Any stranger that showed up at his door could be an agent with an urgent report.

Once inside the bank, Xera pulled one of the guards aside and arranged to have herself escorted to Reggie’s office. Once there, she couldn’t help but notice the new secretary, an elven woman with eye-catchingly vibrant blue hair and rather thick eye glasses. It would appear the boss was busy right now, so the two of them exchanged pleasantries and made inconsequential small talk while they waited. Several minutes later, the ex-succubus entered Reggie’s official place of business.

“Ah, yes, do come in!” said the old-man-looking monster as he walked up to greet her. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Knightley?”

Xera wasted no time and spoke the moment she shut the door.

“Would you kindly tell me what your agents found out about soulstones, old boy?”

Reggie’s eyes glazed over, and his pleasant expression turned dreadfully neutral. He returned to his desk, sat down behind it, and reached under to pull up his findings. The motions were very stiff and somewhat unnatural, but Xera didn’t think too much of his behavior. She was already familiar with it, as this was hardly the first time she’d taken advantage of the brainwashed monster.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who had done so.

Rather than reaching into a drawer, Reggie instead flipped a hidden switch on the desk’s underside. The carpet beneath his visitor lit up in a circled hexagram pattern, with demonic runes written within all six of its points.

Xera immediately recognized this formation, as it was something her Master had practiced on for its Demonology Skill. She moved to get away but hit a shimmering purple wall that had suddenly appeared. Her reaction was too slow, leaving her caught in a Seal of Demonic Binding. Just as the name suggested, it was a trap designed to hold demons. It imprisoned her both physically and spiritually, rendering her incapable of weaving magic.

She tried calling out to her Master, but that triggered a secondary inscription, one in the shape of an octagon that lit up around the initial one with a crimson glow. As it turned out, this was actually a Seal of Greater Demonic Binding, which had the added effect of interfering with her inherent demonic abilities. This forcibly reverted her to her true form as her shapeshifting was suppressed and her telepathic bond temporarily severed.

The djinn placed a hand on the shimmering barrier’s inner side and began pushing. Even if her conjured flesh was relatively feeble, she was still a Ranker. She hoped the barely-contained chaotic energies of her body and soul would be enough to disrupt or even dispel the barrier. Unfortunately, she was wrong. It felt like she was trying to push her way through a wall of steel. Whoever inscribed the Seal knew what they were doing and charged it with a ridiculous amount of mana. They must have been incredibly powerful to make something capable of holding one of Boxxy’s familiars.

The mastermind must have been rich, too. The reagents required to prepare a Seal of Greater Demonic Binding were neither cheap nor easy to come by.

That was why that cheapskate of a box didn’t try it more than once.

After considering the time, place, and resources involved, the ex-succubus could think of only one culprit.

“Foundation of the Founding Father, was it?” she said loudly.

The door to the office and two hidden passages Xera wasn’t aware of all burst open at the same time. Seven individuals wearing red and black hooded robes swarmed into the office, all pointing their staves at the demon in the middle. It would appear this Seal wasn’t the work of one individual, but an entire team of magic users pooling their energies. No wonder it was
so tough. Meanwhile, Reggie merely sat behind his desk in a spaced-out manner.

*Clap clap clap*

A man different from the others stepped forward with a slow clap. His face was obscured by a mask and his body was clad in some sort of dark gray sneaking suit. His silhouette was definitely that of a male, an elf judging by the pointy ears poking out of the sides of his head.

“Jolly good guess,” he spoke mockingly. “It is good to see you still have your wits about you, Xerabadada- Xerabadabudo- Ahem! Let’s just stick with Xera, shall we?”

The demoness glared at the man so hard one would think she was trying to melt his face off with a mystical eye beam.

“It… is you, isn’t it?” said her captor while rubbing his masked chin. “Well, your coloration and face are the same as the last time I saw you, so it’s close enough I think.”

Xera kept staring daggers into him with her arms crossed but didn’t utter any words.

“Don’t try to remember me, we’ve never met face-to-face,” he continued. “I have seen you fight beside the Sandman during the war, though, so I’m quite certain it’s you. Just as I’m certain you are- or perhaps I should say were the same succubus that once served Tol-Saroth.”

The djinn’s eyes opened wide. She had a very bad feeling about what was to happen, so she decided enough was enough and reached up to grab her gilded horns.

“Shadowbind!”

The magic casters used a synchronized Spell on her at the sudden movement. Chains forged out of solidified shadows wrapped around the demoness, binding her legs and arms tightly against her body and preventing any extraneous movement. Now unable to commit suicide by snapping her own neck, the weakened demon could do little but fall to the ground.

“Fuck!” she cursed. “You shitheads have another thing coming if you think I’m going to betray my Master to join your shitty club!”

“Such fierce loyalty from a demon! As expected of the Sandman’s familiar!

Or, perhaps I should call him Boxxy T. Morningwood, eh?”

“What kind of idiotic name is that? My Master would never have such a shameful label!”

“You don’t need to try so hard, demon. We recovered some data from that facility your owner put on ice. We know for a fact that they killed, revived, and imprisoned a doppelganger variant named Boxxy T. Morningwood.

That is the true identity of the creature that calls itself the Sandman!”

Technically speaking, it was the rumor mill that gave the shapeshifter that nickname, but Xera wasn’t about to correct them. Divulging any information under these circumstances was bad, no matter how small, insignificant, or false it seemed to be. Insults were another matter entirely, of course.

“We thought he’d fled the country since he hadn’t shown himself since,”

continued the elf. “That’s when we noticed our resident pet monster troupe had been looking into soulstones. Now why do you suppose he would be doing that, eh?”

Once the Foundation had caught wind of this, it didn’t take them long to determine Boxxy had ‘befriended’ Reggie. They couldn’t get the details out of the enthralled banker since he had been ‘kindly asked’ to forget them.

However, using various eyewitness accounts and written records, they were still able to determine that a mysterious woman had visited him during the times he had no memories of. Knowing the Sandman’s careful personality, they determined he wouldn’t dare show up in person to such a potentially dangerous place. He, or rather ‘it,’ was undoubtedly using its shapeshifting familiar as an intermediary, so the Foundation quickly and quietly prepared a trap to catch her.

The djinn, who was struggling to piece this chain of events within her rotten head, quizzically raised an eyebrow at her captor.

“You actually found out about our little side project?”

“Of course! Did you honestly think an organization such as mine wouldn’t be keeping an eye on our investment?”

“A little,” she shrugged within her bindings. “I mean, you guys made a bunch of really stupid mistakes recently.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, first of all, your pet project got my master killed. Then you lot were stupid enough to revive it, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of trained personnel and the loss of millions of gold and decades of work. I’ve seen goblin villages with more foresight than you reprobates.”

“You were dealing with another department of the Foundation. You will not find our branch such easy prey.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you’ve spent the last while monologuing instead of running for your pathetic lives?”

The demon’s shit-eating grin sent a chill down the elf leader’s spine, prompting him to immediately turn to his colleagues.

“Secure her restraints and ready the portal. We’re leaving before her Master catches wind of us.”

“It’s a bit too late for that, spooky,” called out Xera with a chuckle. “Oh!

Also, there’s one more mistake you filthy twigs made. None of you are covering the window.”

Something more akin to a shimmer rather than a shadow flew into the office the instant she said that by crashing through the glass directly behind the comatose-like Reggie. There were a series of rapid slashing noises as the

‘something’ cut a swath through the room. Three of the Casters were eviscerated and the runes inscribed beneath the carpet tore up at nearly the exact same time. The weakened Seal of Greater Demonic Binding shattered like glass moments later, and Xera’s still-snickering head rolled across the floor.

This all happened so quickly and seemingly with a single motion, making it impossible even for the trained operatives to react in time. Daggers were thrown and Spells were chanted at the barely visible intruder, but they only struck air as the ghost-like presence retreated almost as suddenly as it had
appeared. The only things left in its wake were a wrecked office, a trio of heavily injured elves, and a few stray strands of webbing attached to the busted-up windowsill.

“Damn, he got us!” the leader cursed as he took in the suddenly silent surroundings.

“Sir! Project Lighthouse!” called out one of the subordinates.

The elves only now realized their assailant had done more than prevented them from capturing the sluttiest of the Sandman’s familiars. He or she had also nabbed the doppelganger posing as Reginald Namhel on the way out, depriving them of an extremely valuable resource.

“Shit! He really got us! Grab the injured and get us out of here! We need to leave before the big guy decides to show up in person!”

This lot were no match for a monster of Boxxy’s caliber, which was why they had opted to go after its familiar in the first place. The Wizards in the group wasted no time as they opened up a Gate Spell on the floor. The strike team jumped into the portal, retreating to an undisclosed location to lick their wounds with their tails between their legs and leaving the mess for the proper authorities.

“Master, I got Reggie! I dosed him with my paralytic venom, so he shouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.”

“Great work, Claws. Bring him to the dungeon, but make extra double-triple-mega sure you’re not followed.”

“Of course, Master! I won’t let you down!”

Things were understandably a lot more upbeat on the shapeshifter’s side of things. Drea was practically giddy, not only because she got praised, but because it felt good to finally use her Venomous Sting Skill for its intended purpose. Her timely arrival at the scene was made possible because Xera determined the new ‘secretary’ was acting oddly and warned Boxxy that something was amiss. The monster listened to its paranoia and regretfully pulled Claws away from getting the ‘groceries’ so that she could provide backup if things at Reggie’s place went tits-up.

The djinn’s suspicions were confirmed when she suddenly went silent and her Status became inaccessible. Luckily, she was able to stall those guys long enough to allow the webstalker to arrive on the scene and ‘free’ her.

This outcome was as tasty as could be expected, but the overall situation was anything but. Boxxy decided it needed to get the details on what happened to its familiar from the demon in question as soon as possible, so it did something a little bit out of the ordinary.

555-69-26999-2378-24378

*Ring Ring*

*Click*

“He-hello? This is Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila. May I ask to whom I am speaking?”

“… Snack?”

Boxxy was sure it had ‘dialed’ the correct soul number. The voice certainly sounded like its minion, but the strangely humble way of speaking was completely unlike her. Then again, there were tens of thousands of succubi in the Beyond, and this was its first time trying out this mode of communication. Maybe it messed up and connected to one of Snack’s sisters?

“Ah! Master! You actually called!”

The voice filled with innocent joy was also a bit odd, but it would appear the shapeshifter had reached the right demon after all.

“Oh, wow! I never thought you’d actually- Wait, why are you calling me up directly? N-n-not that I mind or anything…”

Under normal circumstances, if Boxxy wanted to talk to Xera and she wasn’t around, it would just summon her. That was why it hadn’t bothered with this ‘soul number’ business before. However, the current situation was anything but normal. The once-mimic was currently under the guise of Random Old Man B and in public. It wasn’t a suitable place to perform a demonic summoning, and it didn’t want to waste too much time looking for one when it had been attacked so directly.

“Never mind that. What happened at Reggie’s place?”

“R-right! Well, you see, Master-”

The extra-dimensional pervert briefly but clearly described what had gone down in that office just minutes ago.

“They were trying to capture you?” exclaimed Boxxy. “You?! ”

“That is indeed the case, Master.”

Subduing and imprisoning a demon was normally quite challenging since they almost always fought to the death, but physically weak ones like Xera were easier to handle. A set of mana-draining shackles coupled with some portable suppression sigils were more than capable of keeping her in check.

As something of an expert on all things demon, Boxxy was well aware of the possibility.

“But why, though?”

What it couldn’t understand was why anyone would want to catch a contracted demon this badly.

“I suspect they were going to use me to get to you.”

“… You sure about that? I mean, you may be tasty, but you’re extremely disposable. I’d discard you in a heartbeat if that would save my skin.”

“Master’s flattery is appreciated, but misinformed. If I am completely cut off from you and adequately restrained, then I cannot escape to the Beyond through forced dismissal or suicide. This puts us both in a very dangerous position. If you will recall, the Republic government confiscated a certain weapon from Teresa’s Hero.”

“… That cursed warhammer!”

The item in question was a carrier of the somewhat infamous Demonbane curse. It had the power to permanently destroy a demon’s soul. Though the act took a heavy toll on the user physically and mentally, some would consider it a worthwhile trade. All the fanatics in the Foundation probably felt that way if it meant they could destroy a great threat by proxy. The shapeshifter was contractually obligated to protect its familiars’ souls from harm, and failure to do so – regardless of circumstances – would result in Boxxy’s termination. Though, if that was their intention, they would have brought the weapon with them to execute Snack on the spot. The fact that
they planned to capture her meant they wanted to hold her hostage to control the shapeshifter.

“This is something I did not consider,” the monster admitted.

“You hear stories like that from time to time here in the Beyond, Master. It’s rare, but it has been known to happen.”

“Really? Then Carl should be able to do something about this, right?”

If this was a known issue, then Demons ‘R’ Us would surely have come up with some sort of countermeasure. After all, even if the contract allowed them to blame the perma-death of a demon on their summoner, they would much rather avoid such a thing happening in the first place. It was precisely why Boxxy abruptly hung up on Xera – much to her twisted delight – and rang up Carl as quickly as chestily possible.

“I see, so that’s how it was,” said the gruff-voiced devil after hearing the situation. “We do indeed have something to help with that. We call it amendment SD-04 around the office. If I apply this additional clause to your contracts, then your familiars can abandon their physical bodies and return to the Beyond at their own discretion.”

Boxxy finally breathed a sigh of relief. If its minions could easily escape without relying on their master’s orders, then the Foundation’s hostage-taking plan would no longer be a threat.

“That’s good. Can you do that for me as soon as possible?”

“I can, but before I do, I’m contractually obligated to warn you that ‘at their discretion’ is a fancy way of saying ‘any time they want.’ SD-04 isn’t a standard part of the contract because it’s open to abuse. It allows a familiar to abandon their contractor in the middle of combat, while traversing dangerous environments, or any number of other precarious, potentially lethal situations. And there’s no order you can give them that can stop them from doing so. Do you understand everything I’ve just told you?”

“Yes. Hrn… Unfortunately.”

This detail left a sour taste in the back of Boxxy’s throat. Well, it was either this or that hobo it snacked on earlier. Either way, it couldn’t be completely happy about this addendum. Even if its relationship with its bound demons
was monumentally more amicable than the average Warlock, it still did not allow itself to trust them completely. It wasn’t anything personal, though. It was just that, as a monster, Boxxy was incapable of truly trusting anyone with the means and opportunity to stab it in the back.

“So, should I add the amendment to your contracts?” asked Carl, interrupting his client’s brooding.

“I have a few more questions first, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Go right ahead, buddy.”

“Can you do that while the demon is ‘out?’”

“Nope. The familiar needs to be present at the Demons ‘R’ Us office in the Beyond for any contract alterations.”

Boxxy pretty much knew this already, but it wanted to be sure that calling Carl the next time there was trouble and requesting a last-minute addition to the contract was not an option.

“Can you revoke the clause later?”

“Of course.”

“So long as they’re on that side of reality, I assume?”

“Mhm.”

At the very least, it seemed like Boxxy had the ability to retract the

‘privilege’ once the immediate threat was dealt with. Whether it would actually do so was another question entirely, but it was important to know its options.

“Alright, let’s do it. Update Snack’s contract with this SD-04 right away. I’ll send Arms and Claws over a little later, okay?”

“Hey, I’m in no rush, so whenever’s good for me. Y’know, just so long as

‘whenever’ comes before ‘oops my familiar’s soul got wiped out.’”

“I hear you. Thanks, Carl.”

“Sure thing, Boxxy. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else. Wait a second before you go, though. Something came in for you a little while ago while we were talking.”

“It did? What is it?”

“Just gimme a sec here…”

*Takaka-taktak-tatatak-katakatak-taktak*

[Boxxy T. Morningwood has undertaken a Quest: Purge the Order of the Black Wand.]

It would appear that the Mimic had been given its first task as Mortimer’s part-time Hero.

[Purge the Order of the Black Wand]

There is a guild of dark magic users based in the Lodrak Empire who have condoned, coddled, and protected practitioners of necromancy for decades.

They have ignored multiple warnings to cease and desist, and the final ultimatum given to them by the Church of the Dead has expired. Eliminate the corrupt leadership and all sinners within their ranks to serve as a warning to others.

Difficulty: Yes

Time Limit: Before year’s end

Reward: The forgiveness of Teresa, Goddess of Truth and Justice Progress: 0/135

It was a big one.

Part Three

Boxxy was chesting patiently outside a jail cell. Much like the rest of the Dryad’s Domain, this chamber had an overwhelming ‘tree’ theme to it. The

‘door’ was made from various Ironbark spikes that jutted out of the frame and overlapped each other at random angles rather than a metal grate. The walls and furniture were similarly shaped out of wood, bark, and leaves, while a bioluminescent flower bathed the chamber in a serene blue light.

Looks aside, this space was monitored by the dungeon’s Prison Management module, which made sure those trapped inside remained that way for as long as feasibly possible. This included emergency healing magic should they get hurt or attempt suicide as well as maintaining a magical field that helped stymie the onset of hunger and dehydration. It couldn’t produce food or water out of thin air, but, all things considered, it was rather fancy and comfortable as far as prison cells went. It was nicer than most backwater inns out there.

However, no matter how relatively luxurious it was, it was still a place to hold living things prisoner. Such as a very special ‘comrade’ of Boxxy’s who was, unfortunately, currently unavailable.

“Claws? You sure you didn’t get carried away and use too much poison?”

“F-fairly sure, Master. Why do you ask?”

“Because Reggie still isn’t waking up.”

It had been over three hours since Drea captured the brainwashed doppelganger. The paralytic toxin released by her original subspecies’ racial Skill should have worn off after a half-hour at most. Yet, the older monster remained unresponsive ever since he was brought into the prison area of Boxxy’s personal dungeon. Granted, this had given the ex-mimic plenty of time to adequately reward Snack for her performance over the last few days, but the captive’s continued silence was a problem.

“Should I come back to base, then?” the stalker offered.

“No. You wouldn’t be able to do anything even if you did.”

The monster had tried several restorative alchemical products, as well as the Purge Spell courtesy of its first familiar’s Pyromancer Job, but nothing
seemed to work. It also tried zapping the prisoner with the same Stun Stick he had tried to use on Keira in an effort to jolt him awake. It was deliciously ironic, but it only made the shapeshifter revert to his base form. Needless to say, an assassin was not going to be helpful in any way, shape, or form.

Besides, Claws had her own assignment.

“Just focus on finding my dinner. And hurry it up.”

“Y-yes, Master…”

Not that Boxxy was having much luck. Strictly speaking, all of its efforts amounted to little more than poking and prodding what was basically a corpse. It had no idea how to help Reggie snap out of his unresponsive state. Of course, it wasn’t trying to do so out of some sense of responsibility or feelings of camaraderie. It just wanted, among other things, the information the once-banker had gathered on soulstones. Unfortunately, it had no way of getting at that knowledge. Not even Snack’s Dreamweaver had proved useful, as Reggie wasn’t asleep or unconscious. He stared off into the infinite void without moving a muscle aside from shallow breaths, as if still under the effects of a full-body paralysis.

By this point, it was rather obvious that Reggie’s condition wasn’t caused by a demon’s venom, but the alchemical concoction that made him so

‘cooperative’ in the first place. Those Foundation bastards likely anticipated something like this would happen and instructed the ‘ganger to go into mental lockdown should he get captured. That Attitude Adjuster stuff really was as potent as Boxxy’s information claimed. The documents it plundered from the underground facility made it clear that Reggie had been subjected to repeated and prolonged exposure to the formula. The result of that treatment was that his mental and bodily functions had been completely rewired. If he could be ordered to forget things on demand, his mind could just as easily be instructed to go completely blank under certain circumstances.

This left Boxxy with very few options. One of those was to take a shot in the dark and see what memories it could absorb with Broken Reflection. On second thought, that wouldn’t work. The Skill required the corpse possess a heart, and doppelgangers didn’t actually have one of those in their base forms. On third thought, absorbing the magically-addled mind might carry some side-effects even if it was possible, so Boxxy scrapped that idea
altogether. Its next best recourse was to undo the Attitude Adjuster treatment and hope that Reggie’s mind made a full recovery. That was easier said than done. The conditioning was so deeply rooted that it was impossible to remove with basic means like cleansing magic or all-purpose antidotes.

So, if ordinary methods proved ineffective, what of extraordinary ones?

“Ambrosia!” shouted Boxxy. “Are you here?!”

“I am always here, milord,” the dryad spoke as her head rose from the floor.

“Thou need not yell.”

“Sorry. Anyway, could you please prepare a pool of your Waters of Life?”

That stuff was way more potent than any healing magic or potion the monster had ever seen, and it had seen a lot during the war. It was honestly a shame it couldn’t be brought out of the unique environment that was a hylt tree’s mana-saturated trunk. Otherwise, Boxxy could probably make a killing selling the borderline miraculous stuff. If such a thing could not cure Reggie’s condition, nothing would.

“Why? Is milord injured?”

“No, it’s for our guest.”

The chest-shaped monster’s lid creaked open, and a tongue-tentacle pointed at Reggie’s cell. The tree-woman peered inside to get a better look at the doppelganger in its natural form as it lay on a wooden cot with leaf-based bedding.

“Ah. One of milord’s playmates?”

“Something like that.”

“Very well. Thy request is a simple one, so I shall oblige.”

A tub of timber rose up from the floor per the dryad’s will, and a small waterfall of green liquid fell into it from somewhere overhead. It took all but a few seconds to completely fill the vessel. Boxxy thanked Ambrosia for her help and retrieved the unresponsive Reggie from his cell. It brought the elder shapeshifter to the tank of rejuvenating fluid and dunked him into it. Several tense seconds passed while the Waters of Life bubbled and
stirred. Sure enough, a four-fingered hand covered by gnarled black skin erupted from it. The rest of Reggie followed as he leapt out, scattering the magical liquid everywhere. He flew through the air and landed several meters away, frantically taking in his surroundings.

“… Where is this place? And how did I get here?”

As one might expect, he had quite a few questions after waking up in a vast cavern surrounded by bark with nothing for company but a vibrant-green woman and a plain-looking treasure chest. Surprisingly enough, that last one was the most interesting bit of scenery, for it was far too mundane.

Aside from the pair of perfectly round yellow eyes that seemed to gleam out of the box’s barely open lid, of course.

“You’re Boxxy, aren’t you?” he quickly deduced.

“Yes, I am.”

“Figured,” said the old ‘ganger while relaxing his stance. “You’re the only being I know absurd enough to stand side-by-side with a dryad as if you were somehow equals. Ah, do forgive me for intruding upon your splendid interior, madam.”

He punctuated his words with an impeccable bow that oozed class despite his monstrous appearance.

“My! Milord’s playmate is quite courteous,” she remarked with a light smile.

“May I inquire as to milady’s noble name? I know of Sabatia, Alderis, and Roseris, but your beauty does not match any of them.”

“Thou may call me, Ambrosia, mortal. And what might thy name be?”

“… I never really had one of my own. I suppose I’m just a nobody now, aren’t I?”

“Well, ‘nobody,’ I’m afraid I must leave to attend to other matters.

However, I would appreciate it if thou played nice with milord in my absence.”

“Of course.”

The dryad sank into the floor, leaving the two doppelgangers to keep each other company. They stared at each other for a brief moment before Reggie broke the silence.

“Excuse me, I have some things I need to work through.”

Now that the truly dangerous entity was not physically present, the shapeshifter dropped all pretense of being calm and polite. He cursed rapidly in a few languages, yelling at the top of his lungs with a few incoherent screams of rage mixed in for good measure. Deeming verbal outrage insufficient, he repeatedly kicked the walls and slammed his forehead against whatever surface or object was nearby. He even changed his head back to his banker persona only to rip it off, throw it on the ground, and stomp on it viciously enough to splatter it all over the place.

Reggie was, for lack of a better term, actively trying to kill the side of him that embodied everything the Foundation put him through. The sheer animosity and hostility he gave off while engaging in this self-destructive act was the first time in decades he’d been able to unleash his more monstrous nature. And, as was befitting of such a volatile and violent existence, he showed absolutely no mercy while kicking his own ass. The beatdown went on for a solid half hour before he finally calmed down enough to engage in rational conversation. However, it was quite clear the anger simmering within him had not even come close to being sated.

“So, you got a dryad to call you ‘milord,’ did you?” he finally spoke to Boxxy.

“Long story,” it replied. “What about you? You seemed to know a lot about them.”

“Please, youngling. How long do you think I’ve been in this town? Most of the major players in the Republic either know of or have met with a dryad, they just keep it under wraps. Wouldn’t want the sheep knowing they live amongst a dozen demigods who could wipe them out in an instant.”

“Ah. I guess that does makes sense. People around here have a habit of hiding from harsh realities.”

“Tell me about it…”

“What about the other ones you mentioned?” asked Boxxy. “Sabatia, Alderis, and Roseris?”

“Not much I can tell you there. I’ve personally only met Roseris, and briefly at that. The rest are either hibernating or extremely antisocial. You would know all this if you actually tried visiting the rest of Azurvale’s dryads. I’m honestly a bit shocked you haven’t done so yet.”

“Yeah, I’m not too keen to invade an immortal plant lady’s insides without a plan.”

Admittedly, Boxxy didn’t really have one when it first confronted Ambrosia, but it wasn’t quite aware what sort of powers it was messing with back then.

“You made that sound quite rude,” noted Reggie.

“Realized it the moment I said it.”

“You need to mind your tongue more. From what I gather, dryads respond well to flattery and good manners, but such comments could get you killed.

I honestly have no idea how an upstart like you managed to earn that one’s favor. Seriously, how come this Ambrosia’s so nice to you?”

“Not entirely sure. I think some motherly instinct is making her treat me like a surrogate child.”

It made sense in an odd sort of way. After all, Boxxy became a hylt creeper while in her care, so it was possible she felt some sort of familial bond with it. Dryads were born out of the Goddess that best personified mother nature

– emphasis on the ‘mother’ part – so they placed a great deal of importance on such things. This was despite the fact that they were monsters without any actual relation.

“I don’t really understand it,” continued the junior shapeshifter, “but it makes her happy to spoil me with tasty things, so I am not complaining.”

“Tch. You got all the luck, huh?”

“The good and the bad, yeah. Sort of comes with the Hero of Chaos gig, I suppose. What about you, though? How much do you remember?”

“Everything,” was the immediate answer. “I’m still piecing it all together, but yeah, it’s all coming back to me. How those elves captured me, tortured me… Broke me. About how they used me and my kind to fund their own private projects behind the government’s back. About how you tried to do the same. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“To be fair, you did try to get me killed by sending me after the fake Jones Alexis, so I’d say we’re even. Actually no, not ‘tried.’ You succeeded.”

“Wait, what?”

Boxxy stepped out of its preferred chest shape, returning to its base form. It turned around and showed the deeply crimson-colored gemstone still fused to its back.

“Oh, so that’s how it went,” exclaimed Reggie. “They really are idiots, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Then you standing here and now must mean you killed every last one of them as payback, right?”

“Yup.”

“Even Malon?”

“Hero of Death got to him before I could.”

“Did he now? That’s a shame. I was hoping he died horribly. What about that bitch Honoka?”

“I shover her own arm down her throat, then ate her. Got her pet wardrobe, too.”

“That’s good. Shame I didn’t get to rip them apart myself, but I doubt they died peacefully if you were involved. Well, at least I understand why you suddenly wanted that soulstone info. Also explains why you bothered to cure me. Or leave me alive, for that matter.”

“That’s only part of it,” claimed Boxxy, much to Reggie’s surprise. “The Foundation is still aiming for me, which is a problem. One I doubt I can properly deal with by myself. However, you’re the owner of an underground syndicate of shapeshifters and spies.”

“Former owner. Those assholes are probably installing a new figurehead as we speak. Either that or they’re dismantling the whole operation. Granted, it wouldn’t have grown as large as it had without their help, but it’s still my sweat and blood that made it happen, damnit!”

“Exactly, which is why they have no idea how it all actually works. Right?”

“… No. No, they don’t, actually. They just used me as a go-between and never bothered to ask me for specific details concerning the organization’s inner workings, sleeper cells, or ongoing operations. Heh, I even put some contingency plans in place should I ever disappear without warning or notice that they’re probably unaware of.”

“Sounds like you could salvage a good chunk of your criminal empire if you wanted to.”

“Oh, I see. So, that’s what you’re getting at. You want me and my agents to keep the Foundation busy so you can live peacefully.”

“Something like that, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get involved.

You remember our initial arrangement?”

Boxxy would be the ‘muscle,’ and Reggie would be the ‘eyes and ears.’ It was a basic ‘you scratch my back I scratch yours’ sort of deal.

“Come off it. You seriously expect me to believe you’d just let someone who knows your secret identity run free?” asked the elder shapeshifter.

“Please. As if you’d ever go to the authorities with this. Nobody would believe you even if you did.”

There were a number of high-ranking witnesses that could vouch Keira and the Sandman were separate entities. Not only in the military and adventuring communities, but the Slyth family as well. They would all stand by the nation’s beloved Hero. Even the loony bins that thought up ridiculous conspiracy theories for a living would find it hard to believe the perky catgirl and the ‘Demon Tamer’ were one and the same. In fact, Boxxy’s primary Facade was so secure that nothing short of Keira openly revealing her true nature in front of thousands of people would compromise it in any meaningful way. Even then, they might just convince themselves that some monster had taken the ‘real’ Keira’s place.

“Okay, you got a point there. Goddamned easy-mode Hero bullshit,”

grumbled Reggie under his breath. “Anyway, why would you even bother helping me?”

“Because we share a common goal. If you’re even half as spiteful as I am, you won’t be satisfied until you see those guys dead, eaten, and humiliated.”

Boxxy could trust very few things, and one of those was that monsters were extremely partial to revenge. Anything they saw as cruelty upon themselves they would want to return a hundredfold. Granted, a creature with at least half a brain wouldn’t bother tackling the impossible on a whim like that, but Reggie’s wounds ran too deep for him to just skip town and save his own hide. It would barely be much of a bother even if he did, as the only thing Boxxy would lose in that situation was an opportunity.

“It’s us versus them,” it added. “We stand to lose much if we get in each other’s way and may miss crucial opportunities to strike back if we work independently. However, we can only profit if we cooperate.”

The best possible outcome would have the Foundation dismantled, exposed, or otherwise disabled. Absolute worst-case scenario, aside from the threat of re-death, would be Keira’s Facade being torn down. If that happened, then Boxxy would retreat to the Dryad’s Domain without a second thought.

It would gather the most valuable of its shinies and transport itself to Goroth’s dungeon to start anew in dwarven lands. Strictly speaking, Boxxy would probably be safer if it did that right now, but it wanted to at least try to maintain the tasty life it had only just finished rebuilding.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at things,” mused Reggie. “I wouldn’t mind that sort of arrangement at all, though you’ll forgive me if I’d rather we avoid face-to-face meetings in the future. For both our sakes.”

“Fair enough.”

“I suppose since I’ll be taking you up on that offer I should at least give you the good news. Your soulstone – it shrinking in size is nothing to worry about. Apparently, it’s just being, uh, absorbed by your body. Or is it digested? Something like that. Point is, you’ll be fine so long as it doesn’t get shattered or ripped out of you until it disappears on its own. If that happens, you’d die. Again.”

“Oh? You sure that’s all there is to it?”

Boxxy fully expected to be burdened with maintaining the profane object tethering its soul to its body. ‘Waiting around until it went away’ was almost too straightforward a solution.

“Fairly certain,” claimed Reggie. “I only skimmed the report, so I don’t remember the exact details, but that’s what my agents found out about a week ago. This information came from some ‘confidential’ archives from a major guild south of the border, so, for what it’s worth, I’m quite confident it’s legitimate.”

“… That guild wouldn’t happen to be the Order of the Black Wand, would it?”

“It is, actually. Why do you ask?”

“I may have some business with them in the near future.”

Boxxy was still considering whether it would even attempt the Quest it had received earlier. The time limit made it so it had a little over a month to go scour the Empire and take out over a hundred targets. At least it wouldn’t need to spend too much time looking for them, as they would appear as tiny red dots within its vision whenever it activated Eyes of the Dead God. The problem was that it wasn’t sure whether it could cover that much ground in so little time. The Quest reward being so immaterial was quite disappointing as well.

Then again, this was only the first of Mortimer’s tasks. The Gods famously loved to test mortals, so it was possible the bony bastard was treating this as a trial to confirm whether Boxxy was up to his Hero standards. This was all guesswork, though. The pragmatic monster didn’t want to commit to anything based on mere speculation. However, if they were Reggie’s source on occult and profane objects, then perhaps there was worth in taking them on. Even if it wasn’t a test that would lead to tastier or shinier things, it could confirm Reggie’s claims over the course of executing the Quest. After all, verification was the highest form of trust. Being officially taken off Teresa’s shit-list was definitely not a bad thing, either.

“You sure your public side can afford to be away from the capital for so long?” asked the older ‘ganger.

“It’ll be fine. Keira’s currently abroad on a ‘private adventure.’ She can afford to stay away for another month or so without people around her getting worried.”

This was partly because Rowana, her parents, as well as the two VIPs that

‘broke’ Keira out of the Foundation base knew the Sandman was keeping watch over her. It was highly unlikely any of them would share that private information after what the catgirl had supposedly gone through. Admittedly, the adventurers among them had a ruthless side, but they were all good-natured people that cared for their friends and family first and foremost.

It was almost a shame that they had unwittingly put their trust in the wrong

‘people.’

“Well, if you say so. You know your Facade best, after all,” Reggie dropped the subject. “However, I should warn you that my guys heard some disturbing things while across the border. The Inquisition is cracking down hard on all the Empire’s major players, and that guild is no exception.

There’s also hearsay that the Hero of Death is slated to pay them a visit pretty soon. I wouldn’t tangle with that lizard if I were you.”

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the warning.”

“Don’t mention it. Wouldn’t want my ‘partner’ to disappear because of some bumbling humans with a hard-on for truth and justice or whatever.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. What about you? Will you be fine without me? It’ll be some time before I come back.”

“That’s fine. We both need to lay low until the Foundation heat dies down.

Until then, I’ll try to reconnect with the rest of my crew. Ah, I’ll make a personal request to Keira Morgana through her guild when I have something for you. You’ll know it’s me if you get a Quest from someone named ‘G. O. Welles’ talking about frozen peas.”

“Noted. If that’s everything, then I should start planning for my trip.”

“Indeed. I need to get going myself but, uh, mind pointing me to the exit?”

“Right, gimme a sec. I’ll have one of my familiars show you the way.”

Claws was still looking for a suitable meal donor while Arms was busy helping Ambrosia out with some ‘pest problem’ in the old sewers her roots
had broken into. Snack was the only viable candidate left, so Boxxy called out to her through the thought-link. The djinn appeared next to her Master shortly afterwards via the dungeon core’s Nexus Access function. She collapsed on the ground moaning, mewling, and twitching with various dried up fluids all over her. It would appear she hadn’t quite regained the use of her lower body after Boxxy’s extra special reward.

“This is Snack, I believe you’ve met,” Boxxy explained. “She’ll show you the way out once she’s… done.”

“Ah. I see.”

Reggie let out an automatic affirmative response, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the creature wallowing on the ground. Much like the junior doppelganger and the rest of his species, he was utterly deprived of any sort of a sex drive. He still felt the urge to reproduce whenever he saw pregnant women, but that was due to the nature of his species. There was nothing lecherous or particularly pleasurable about the act itself. Yet, his vast life experience made it so there was no doubt in his mind exactly what the ex-succubus was going through, and all the nonsensical implications that followed.

Reggie wasn’t ultimately all that bothered by this turn of events, though.

“Greetings, Miss Snack. I will be in your care for a little while.”

“Hyeeeesh~ ♡ !”

He had already figured out such meddlesome concepts as common sense didn’t apply to the being called Boxxy T. Morningwood.

Part Four

Remy Cromwell entered the room and sat in his puffy chair with a groan.

He massaged his stiff right shoulder with one hand while gripping a glass of imported wine in the other. He glanced towards the windows to his messy, poorly-decorated office, noting the pitch black sky that loomed outside. He grimaced when he realized how late it was. He had just spent several hours entertaining his guests, which was a polite way of saying ‘driving off a bunch of nosy assholes.’ A time-consuming and stressful process to be sure.

He shivered lightly at the gust of cold air and fresh white powder that came through the open window. Even if winters in the Empire were significantly milder than those in the Republic, it still snowed on occasion. Not enough for it to pile up and become a problem, but just enough to bother the joints of aging men like himself. Frankly speaking, that damned window should not have been left open at all, but his well-meaning assistant had recently acquired the habit of ‘airing out the musty old office.’

Not wishing to suffer the chill any longer, Remy somewhat reluctantly got off his chair and shut the window. He then turned to the fireplace in the room and casually hurled a Wizard’s Firebolt Spell at it. The magical projectile seemed like a pale imitation of a Fireball, which wasn’t too far off the mark. The Spells were almost identical, but with two key differences. A Firebolt was weaker, faster, and, most importantly, didn’t erupt into a gigantic blaze on impact. It was just enough to instantly light a cozy fire without burning down half the building.

Remy sat in front of the now crackling fireplace, took a sip of his drink, and calmed down.

*BANG BANG*

“Mister Cromwell! I have urgent news!”

His moment of relaxation didn’t last long, as there was a fierce knocking on his door accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice. Remy let out a tired sigh as he set his glass down on the nearby table. He got up and opened the door to find a raven-haired young woman wearing a heavy robe and worried expression.

“What is it, Grace?” he asked, clearly peeved.

“Ah, forgive me for interrupting,” she apologized hurriedly, “but dire news just came in from up north!”

“Everything is dire news these days, isn’t it?” grumbled the older gentleman as he scratched his chestnut brown hair. “What is it? Did those Inquisition bastards accost another of our members on a whim again?”

Just because they were doing their Goddess’s bidding or whatever didn’t give them the right to do as they pleased. For example, earlier that evening they barged in and demanded the release of the guild’s records without even bothering to acquire the proper warrants. Such acts displayed how little they knew of the world’s workings. Divine duty or not, this grand Empire had laws and due processes for a reason. Those upstarts had to first respect the rules of the nation they lived in before worrying about serving any sort of other power. Cromwell was entirely in his right to turn them away when they started waving their righteousness around as if it gave them any sort of authority, and he did not hesitate to do so.

“N-no, sir! This is serious!” insisted Grace as she held up a piece of paper in front of her boss. “This is a list of our people who have gone missing or were found dead in their homes over the past ten days!”

“What?! Let me see that!” he said, snatching the list out of her hand.

“Nineteen of them? Are you sure this is accurate?”

His assistant didn’t answer with words. She could only stare nervously at him while awkwardly jerking her head at the document. Remy turned his gaze back to the list in his hands and, after reading through it, made a rather troubling realization.

“I recognize these names,” he muttered. “Wally ‘Thumbs,’ Tamara Osborne, ‘Red’ Richard… Aren’t these all Taboo holders?”

Grace nodded erratically with a quivering lip. It would appear she had made certain conclusions based on this trend, which he immediately moved to dispel.

“Calm yourself, girl. I can assure you this has nothing to do with those fanatics at the Church of the Dead. They’ve been making the same threats and ultimatums for years now, but nothing has happened. Their recent bout
of barking isn’t any different. I’d say this is the work of someone using them as a smoke screen to kill law-abiding citizens rather than Mortimer’s Reaper.”

Even if certain Gods considered the practices carried out by a specific subset of the Order of the Black Wand as ‘unethical’ or ‘heretical,’ they were not against the Empire’s laws. The country was not ruled by religion.

Those in power achieved their position through merits, noble birth, or a mix of both. Faith was never at the top of the pecking order, and even if it was it would be Teresa’s doctrines that dictated law, not Mortimer’s. Though, as far as Cromwell was concerned, religion was at the bottom of his priorities.

After all, he was the head of an organization that managed over a thousand magic wielders. His loyalties lied with the emperor first, the guild second, himself and his family third, and the world’s self-serving deities were firmly in last place.

“Are… Are you sure, guild master?”

“Nobody can be absolutely sure of anything, my dear,” he responded cryptically, “but it’s far more likely that the one doing this is acting on their own. Or, at the very least, without any divine backing.”

“You mean a vigilante? Like that Demon Tamer guy in the Republic?”

The Sandman’s infamy as an extremely capable Warlock had spread beyond the elven nation’s borders. His notoriety practically exploded after the clash of the two Overlords during Armageddon Day, which more or less marked the war’s end. That particular event had caused rumors to spread that the masked mercenary was somehow able to direct one of the most powerful beings in existence to clash with another. There was no way the Order of the Black Wand – an organization steeped in the darker side of magic –
would fail to take notice.

“It might as well could be him, given that this is happening so close to their border,” said Cromwell while scratching his chin. “Until we get to the bottom of this, we have a responsibility to our guildmates. Compile a list of all active Taboo holders and gather what guild officials are present for an emergency meeting. I’ll be down in a bit so we can discuss how to tackle this.”

“Yes, sir!”

Grace promptly left the office to carry out her duties, and Remy shut the door behind her. He walked over to his desk and drank the rest of his wine in a single go. He then turned to face a seemingly empty corner of the room and spoke to it.

“Alright, come on out. And you really need to stop setting off my alarms on purpose, you’re gonna get yourself burnt to a crisp if you keep doing that.”

A towering figure stepped out of thin air. It was a brown-scaled raptor clad in a leather bodysuit with a white skull-mask. He also had a hooded, semi-transparent cloak with ever-shifting colors draped over his back. It was an exceptionally flamboyant garment entirely at odds with the one wearing it, so it was only natural Remy’s attention would be drawn to it.

“A Prismatic Cloak?” he noted with a raised eyebrow. “Since when do you need one of those?”

“Ssssince my lassst hit took a heavier toll on me than expected,” Accatau hissed in response.

Even if the one standing in front of Cromwell wasn’t actually the Hero of Death, that statement was not entirely untrue. Unlike the real deal, however, Boxxy did not have access to the Obfuscate Skill. It was a high-Level Rogue technique that allowed one to avoid detection through magical means such as anti-intrusion enchantments or a mimic’s MLG. The shapeshifter had gained awareness of this ability when it first absorbed the body of Mortimer’s chosen, but did not possess anything that could replicate the effects. It had no way of infiltrating the guild hall without tripping an alarm or two, so it did just that with the intent of taking Cromwell down hard.

Thankfully, it would seem a direct confrontation wasn’t necessary, as the guild master acted like he was personally familiar with the original Accatau. Boxxy therefore decided to roll with it for the time being.

“I assume you’re here because of this?” he asked as he tapped the list of victims.

“Why elssse?”

“What, don’t tell me you’re going back on our deal!? I already paid for next year!”

It would appear that the Order of the Black Wand had avoided Mortimer’s executioner by buying him off. The greedy lizard-man was without a doubt the type of person who would put personal gain before his divine duties.

Granted, so was Boxxy, but it imagined the ‘bony bastard’ wasn’t as lenient an employer as Henry. How was Accatau not immediately sacked for taking such a bribe? Then again, this was the God of Death and Commerce.

Perhaps he wasn’t entirely against mortals repenting for their crimes with their wallets. This was all conjecture, of course, as Boxxy was not at all familiar with Mortimer’s scriptures. More importantly, these on-the-spot conclusions about a ‘Taboo tax’ were completely irrelevant. Whatever deal this man had with the previous Hero of Death was null and void, he just didn’t know that yet. Boxxy wanted to get a slice of that pie, too, but that would be difficult under these circumstances.

Difficult, but not impossible.

“Thissss isn’t my doing,” it lied. “However, I am willing to help you find this impossstor. For a price, of coursssse.”

“So, it’s about money after all, is it?”

Remy sighed deeply as he practically collapsed into his armchair. He had to admit, he did not want to let go of those Taboo holders, as the exorbitant membership fees he forced upon them were a good source of guild revenue.

Not to mention there were certain highly profitable Quests that demanded a Necromancer’s unique skillset or a Hexcraft user’s intimate knowledge of curses. They were all strictly legal undertakings that had gone through the proper channels, of course. Regardless of what those Inquisition upstarts seemed to think, the Order of the Black Wand was a legitimate place of business. Well, aside from the whole bribery thing, but every other major guild was doing it, too. It was just how things worked in the upper echelons of human society.

Cromwell had unfortunately failed to realize the casual corruption was precisely what the Inquisition was trying to end. That and investigating any possible links between the guild and the former spymaster, Edward Allen.

Even as a fugitive, that man’s influence and connection ran deep.

“Alright, fine,” declared the guild master after thinking things over. “You find and stop the one responsible for ruining my investments. Only then
will we talk gold.”

“Eeksssselent! Could I trouble you to share a copy of that list of potential victims?”

“Hmm…”

That line made Cromwell doubt his visitor’s identity. The world’s supposedly best assassin would not ask for this information so openly and directly. On the other hand, their previous interactions were limited to a few choice words and gold changing hands, so the guild master was hardly in a position to judge him based on personality. Yet, the uncharacteristic entrance and the odd sense of dread he felt whenever he looked at the brown-scaled lizard gave a distinct feeling of something being out of place.

The guild master did not have to consider these suspicions for long, though, as he soon found himself physically unable to rise from his seat. His entire body had gone completely numb seemingly all at once, and his efforts to shout for help were fruitless. Only his eyes responded to his commands, but even his vision grew blurry as some foreign substance took hold of him.

With his last bit of strength, he glanced towards the empty glass in his hand, realizing he had been affected by a powerful paralytic poison.

His visitor got closer and leaned in, placing a scaly hand on the man’s head.

Cromwell was a prisoner inside his own body and couldn’t resist as he was effortlessly picked up and thrown face-first into the ground. Boxxy stabbed at the nape of his neck, inserting a clawed finger deep inside. It deposited a worm-like Puppet Parasite, which easily took control of the immobilized guild master. Even if the high-Level magic user’s mind was relatively more resistant to magical domination than most people, his constitution was lacking and Boxxy’s Mental Fortitude (MNT) was not to be underestimated.

In the end, the Puppet Parasite successfully hijacked the human’s nervous system without much issue, cutting his consciousness off from the rest of him.

The doppelganger then force-fed the man a dose of anti-venom, instantly curing him of Drea’s demonic toxin. The meat-doll rose up from the floor, nodded at its master, and then left the room to carry out its mission while Boxxy rooted through the messy office. It was looking for information relating to the guild’s operations or item stores. It was unfortunate that the
creature wasn’t able to play along with the human until it secured additional funds for its ‘services,’ though the shapeshifter already knew the charade couldn’t last. It knew very little of the deceased Hero’s mannerisms, way of thinking, or personal history, so its cover was doomed to fail from the start.

The only reason it was even in that form in the first place was so the dearly departed Accatau would take the blame for its handiwork on the off chance a witness escaped.

Its insurance policy had worked out, though not in the way it would’ve hoped. If anything, things went better than expected since it managed to avoid attracting attention through open combat. Doing things quietly was preferable, as this guild hall was situated within Oshinas – the Lodrak Empire’s royal capital. The Inquisition were everywhere and there was no telling what sort of dangerous people were lurking around. No matter what precautions were taken or escape plans prepared, attacking a guild master in his own office was a risky undertaking. Though, perhaps Boxxy was doing things too quietly. The Quest said something about sending a warning to other mortals, but would the message get across if they didn’t know for sure who was responsible? It had been going around ‘dressed’ as Accatau just in case it was seen, but perhaps it might have been better if it allowed itself to be spotted a few times. Much like with the Mercenary Guild Quests of its infancy, the customer would not be pleased if their task was completed in a way that defeated the purpose behind it.

Now wasn’t the right time for that, though. It needed to gather information before it went full hog on the Order’s ranks. Strictly speaking, even though it got through twenty five of its targets – Grace’s list was missing a few names – there were far too many. They were spread throughout the Empire’s territory and possibly beyond, so getting to all of them within the time limit would be difficult. It would’ve been outright impossible if not for the monster’s ability to quickly cover great distances with Transfamiliar.

That time limit was the only difficult part about this Quest. The targets would not prove much of a challenge with enough preparation and locating them was easy. However, while the Eyes of the Dead God highlighted all of its marks as shimmering spots on the horizon, direction was all the Skill provided. There was no clear indication of relative distance, so planning an optimal route between so many points was impossible. It may have gotten rid of a good chunk of them up north, but that was only because a group of
them were working together on some questionable research. As far as Boxxy could tell, the majority of its targets were significantly more spread out, making travel the most time consuming part of the job. That was why the shapeshifter came here to begin with. Its original intent had been to

‘borrow’ its targets’ guild records. Knowing their addresses would help Boxxy plan its route, not to mention it would know all their Jobs, Levels, and Skills in advance, allowing it to devise efficient takedown methods while in transit. But, as it listened to the urgent report, it got a better idea.

One that would be impossible without Cromwell’s involuntary cooperation.

This being a guild headquarters in the Empire’s capital, security would undoubtedly be tight. Boxxy had a lot of trouble breaking in and still managed to trip a number of silent alarms, as Remy himself attested. The monster wasn’t worried. It was confident it could take the man if he put up a fight since he wasn’t even an Ultimate Skill user. The monster felt it a bit backwards that the leader wasn’t the most powerful member, but it understood why things were this way. It was thankful for that, as controlling the guild master would’ve been much more difficult otherwise. But, now that it had gained dominance over him, it could easily bypass the place’s various identity-verifying enchantments. No amount of shapeshifting or Status-concealing would have allowed Boxxy to do that by itself.

Even then, it didn’t have a lot of time. Puppet Parasite was a Skill that lasted for fourteen minutes at most – two for each Level. The doppelganger had a very limited window to work with, so it continued rummaging around the man’s office while being careful not to make a huge mess. It found very little of use, unfortunately. There was a ledger containing some potentially incriminating information and a collection of four enchanted keys, but that was it. The drought was only to be expected, though. A guild master’s office was hardly the best place to keep truly valuable items and records, as it was the first place a thief would look.

Which was partly why it had sent out its meat puppet, and also why it was glad it returned safely with a stack of documents that Grace woman had prepared. The papers contained all the information Boxxy came here to get and then some. Actually, ‘some’ was an understatement. At a glance there appeared to be close to two hundred files in the pile – far more than the creature’s targets. This worried the shapeshifter for a moment before it remembered its task wasn’t to purge the guild of Taboo holders altogether.

It was after the Necromancers specifically, and there were precisely one hundred and thirty four of them in this bundle of records. That number matched up perfectly with the Quest’s count once it factored in the guild master. He wasn’t marked with Taboo, but was made a target for protecting the others.

All of this was well and good, but there was one small hitch. Upon checking the Quest in its head, Boxxy was surprised to see its Progress was at 25/133. Wasn’t the total 135 just a few days ago? It scanned the glowing spots in its vision as it stared beyond the office’s walls, and it noticed that two of them to the east had indeed gone missing. Did they get taken out by a monster? Or did they repent, amend their ways, and rid themselves of their Taboo, thus taking them off Mortimer’s shit-list? Either way, it would appear the Quest was updating itself in real time, which was rather convenient. Boxxy certainly wasn’t going to complain about its job getting easier, but this highlighted that it needed to be wary of any new heretical additions to the Order that might mess up the tight deadline. It had to move fast to minimize the odds of that happening.

However, the monster still had two more things to do before it set out. It telepathically ordered the Puppet Parasite to steer Cromwell’s body over to his desk. The man, still locked inside his own mind and unable to stop himself, took out a piece of parchment and began writing down a set of instructions. He finished the note by saying he was leaving on some urgent business to make arrangements to counteract this serial killer and would be back within a week. The message was placed inside a special envelope and sealed with the guild master’s ring, magically imprinting his identity upon the document. Humans were a species that kept each other in check through power and authority – they would not readily question orders from a higher power, even if they were relayed second-hand. They would eventually catch onto the ruse, but it would already be far too late to stop Boxxy’s plan.

With that out of the way, the shapeshifter grabbed the man’s head and, after putting a good bit of strength into its arms, snapped his neck. The twenty sixth victim fell to the ground motionless, with the now-orphaned Puppet Parasite leaving his neck and dying with a few futile twitches. The body was picked up and thrown into the monster’s Storage, after which it used Transfamiliar to depart the guild’s head office. The djinn that appeared in its
place had only just enough time to smile to herself before she was sent back to the Beyond.

The doppelganger found itself standing inside a barn, about a dozen kilometers outside the city. The cows here were already killed and eaten without leaving behind a single drop of blood. The monster had butchered them to satiate its considerable hunger, and also because they were annoying. One would think they’d never seen a murderous magic-wielding shapeshifter before with how much noise they were making. Once reoriented, Boxxy took out Cromwell’s corpse. There were several things it could do with the prize, but it had already decided on a course of action long before the two even met. Unlike those Necromancers it had purged on Mortimer’s behalf, this one would not be eaten, for it was ‘clean.’ It did not carry the mark of Taboo, and Boxxy would not risk contracting the stigma from what it was about to do.

“Cadaver Absorption!”

Following the chant, an array of familiar yet nostalgic translucent tentacles shot out of its body. They wrapped around the corpse and over the course of a brief two seconds sucked it dry to the point it was just a pile of ashen bones within a pointlessly fancy robe. Then, something happened.

Something that was both inevitable and persistently elusive at the same time.

[Your Cadaver Absorption was a major success!]

[28% of the target’s highest Job Level has been added to your own.]

The shapeshifter finally hit the jackpot on a high-value corpse.

[Level up!]

[Level up!]

[Level up!]

...

[Congratulations, you are now a Level 25 Wizard! INT +75. END +50.

WIS +25.]

[You have learned new Spells: Firebolt, Icebolt, Air Hammer, Flame Jet, Frost Mine, Spark Blast, Earth Spike, Stabbing Rain, Lightning Bolt, Flight.]

[Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Legendary Intelligence.]

Boxxy stood paralyzed as its mind was flooded with knowledge of the mystic arts, granting it access to a total of ten new Spells. The expanded arcane arsenal was unquestionably a great prize, but the jackpot came with an even tastier reward. Its mind attained clarity unlike never before, and for the briefest moment, the monster felt like it knew everything. It then instantly realized it was getting full of itself, as it most assuredly was not omniscient. For one thing, it had no idea what that new Perk’s effects even were.

[Legendary Intelligence]

A being whose capacity for knowledge and understanding are the stuff of legends.

Requirements: Reach 1,000 Intelligence (INT).

[Effects]

Increases total magic damage done by all Skills by 50%.

Can recall events experienced in the last 48 hours with extreme clarity and detail.

This issue was rapidly rectified, much to Boxxy’s delight. The ability to perfectly remember the last two days of its life must have been why it had briefly and mistakenly believed itself to be a literal know-it-all. It wasn’t sure whether it was actually all that useful, though, as its memory was pretty good already. However, the Perk’s other effect was quite exceptional in and of itself. Strictly speaking, although Intelligence (INT) did provide a passive bonus to one’s offensive magic, it normally only applied to Spells.

Therefore, having this amplify Skill-based damage to such a significant degree was a very welcome boost.

It was just a shame it only applied to three Skills in total. The first was the Acid Spray Skill that Boxxy lifted off a murk dweller. The other two were the Blade Dancer’s Winterlich Waltz and Flamenco de Fuego. The Perk could also apply to Chaotic Disposition, though that thing had a habit of working against the user as much as it helped, so the shapeshifter had mixed feelings. On the subject of Skills, the instant Level 25 Wizard Job allowed it to pick four new ones. Boxxy wasn’t sure if it planned to keep the Job long-term since being a Warlock satisfied its needs for magic-based
destruction. Versatility was good, but redundancy was not. Regardless of whether it would keep this Job or not, it would be a while before it could schedule a Job Removal. Since Boxxy was stuck with it for a while, it figured it might as well make the most of it, so the anomalous creature eagerly began expanding its already ridiculously long list of Skills.

[Proficiency level increased. Arcane Stability is now Level 1. INT +2. WIS

+2.]

Its first choice facilitated faster and easier learning of new magical incantations if one were to pursue that knowledge the hard way rather than deriving it from a Job. It also reduced the backlash damage suffered from botched or blatantly misused Skills and Spells, which was what Boxxy was actually after. This would allow the monster to reduce the strain on its body whenever it slipped inside its own Storage as an evasive maneuver.

[Proficiency level increased. Mana Shield is now Level 1. INT +2. END

+2.]

Second on the list was a staple of all but the most idiotic of Wizards. It was the first piece of purely defensive magic that Boxxy actually had. Now it could finally outright block incoming projectiles and Spells rather than having to suffer their various debilitating effects. And if faced with something truly outrageous… Well, that was why it got Arcane Stability.

[Proficiency level increased. Residual Feedback is now Level 1. INT +3.

WIS +1.]

Next came something that would assist with prolonged magical battles. It was a Skill that caused each Spell cast to empower the next, which would in turn amplify subsequent ones even further. The boost was relatively inconsequential at the start and would fade within seconds, but its ability to stack up over time meant it could reach rather ridiculous magnitudes. In theory, it would allow Boxxy to steadily gain power as a fight dragged on, assuming it was allowed to chant Spells in rapid succession.

[Proficiency level increased. Disruptive Barrage is now Level 1. INT +4.]

Last, but by no means least, was an active Skill to take advantage of that brand new Legendary Intelligence Perk. One that would pepper the user’s target with bolts of raw, mystic energy, which supposedly were especially
effective against summoned creatures, defensive barriers, and other magical constructs. The logic behind this choice was that it would help against undead, demons, and Casters, which were either completely unaffected by Boxxy’s Domination magic or highly resistant to it. Disruptive Barrage could be used on other targets, too, though to a lesser effect. The main catch here was that the user would need to stand still in order to channel it, making them vulnerable. Still, it was better having it than not.

After settling all Skill-related matters and still riding high on the sudden power spike, the shapeshifter focused its attention on achieving a minor yet long-held dream. It was something that always seemed just out of reach, despite its natural ingenuity and repeated attempts. It was a feat that it always lacked the means of accomplishing until now.

At dawn the next morning, a small subset of Imperial citizens reported seeing an unidentified flying chest soaring through the skies near the capital, cackling gleefully as it passed overhead.

Part Five

A place of darkness and despair.

That was the most succinct way to describe Aynor Keep. It was a gloomy place flanked on all sides by depressing swamplands. Its walls, towers, and buildings were hewn out of cold, black stone, and grotesque creatures patrolled the skies above. To say this keep had a gloomy atmosphere was an understatement, though it was to be expected. It was, after all, one of the major holdings of the Order of the Black Wand, and the organization had an image to uphold. Even if it was one of creepiness and foreboding, it was still, for lack of a better word, their brand.

However, the current oppressive atmosphere was much heavier than usual, as every Necromancer under the guild’s employ had been called here. The air stank profusely of rot, as each had brought their own entourage of the dead. They had ordered their creations to bury themselves in the ground to not take up space, but it was inevitable some would be left roaming around.

There were also living and breathing guards, of course, but they couldn’t be trusted to maintain a vigilant watch with sleet pouring down from the skies.

Especially when it was the dead of night, hours before the morning twilight even considered showing itself. Hence, undead sentries were needed, as these creatures were bothered by neither darkness nor cold. Admittedly, they were rather brainless, but they could still ceaselessly patrol the perimeter and scream their heads off at anyone approaching the base.

Determining whether this trespasser was an intruder, a passerby, or another member of the guild would then be left up to the living.

The monsters circling above were a different story, for they were very much alive. There were about a dozen beholders, all of whom were made to stand watch for any disturbances, magical or otherwise. Demons were tireless, required no food or drink, and thought for themselves, so they made ideal lookouts, provided that their summoners had issued the right instructions, of course. These literal eyes-in-the-sky were not the only things flying around.

There were also nine gargoyles – winged humanoid monsters with smooth charcoal-black hides covering their slender bodies. Their hands and feet were tipped with sharp claws, their faces and ears shaped like a bat’s, and their snouts full of sharp teeth. These required significantly more upkeep
than the demons or undead at the site, but with good reason. Gargoyles were fast, vicious, and nimble, able to evade almost anything thrown at them long enough to move in and tear into their targets. Though they lost some of their natural ferocity after being wrangled by a Monster Tamer, the Job’s other Skills more than made up for it.

Aynor Keep’s current state wwas caused by a number of reasons that could be summed up in three words – guild master’s orders. The Order of the Black Wand had officially recognized the threat of the serial killer targeting their Necromancer members across the Empire. In fact, given the sheer speed at which those people were being eliminated, it seemed unlikely that it was the work of a single individual. The guild had no choice but to recognize it as an organized attack on their ranks, which required an adequate response. An emergency message was sent out to all potential victims, urging them to head to Aynor Keep where the Order of the Black Wand would offer protection and shelter. It was a temporary arrangement that would only last until the ones responsible for killing their members were found and brought to justice. That was also why the guild master had supposedly disappeared, as he had launched his own personal investigation by going off to consult his… less reputable associates. This news reassured many of the Necromancers, as it showed Cromwell was taking their plight seriously. There were, of course, quite a few cynics who assumed the old donkey had gone into hiding to save his own skin.

Regardless of their personal feelings on the guild master’s absence, over a hundred corpse-talkers had answered Cromwell’s summons from ten days ago. As ordered, they had converged at Aynor Keep as soon as possible through whatever means they had available. Some took advantage of their guildmates’ teleportation magics, while others arrived via fantastical creatures like griffins or skeletal steeds. There was even one Necromancer who suffered some nasty burns after taking a chance on an Artificer’s previously untested automobile prototype. That was just how urgent this gathering was.

Or, rather, that was just how desperate these people were. Though Necromancers weren’t outlawed, their existence was almost universally distrusted and reviled. Common folk saw them as a necessary evil at best, or heretics to be strung up by their necks at worst. Yet, many continued to walk the path, as it was an easy way of quickly amassing power with the
potential of achieving immortality through lichdom. It was a Job favored by cowards and outcasts – people who were almost always on edge anyway.

Having such a direct threat looming over them made them even more paranoid than usual. Though they gathered at the keep for safety, being around a bunch of other nervous wrecks was not exactly relaxing.

Furthermore, they were barred from leaving Aynor Keep’s grounds for their own protection, which led to quite a few Necromancers feeling like they were being imprisoned.

Despite all those misgivings, this still seemed the best course of action. The guild had provided comfortable lodgings and ample provisions, so the stay wasn’t all that unpleasant. After the first few days of arriving and settling in, people started swapping ideas and knowledge, raising their overall understanding of their dark arts. Educational benefits aside, it was nice to socialize with like-minded individuals without fear of pitchforks and torches. There was a significant portion of Necromancers that planned to make ‘Necro-Con’ a regular event once this serial killer business was resolved. It was questionable whether any of them would actually step up and organize the event, but the thought alone helped keep the powder keg of nerves from exploding.

Indeed, though its occupants were coping as best they could, Aynor Keep remained largely gripped by unease and uncertainty. Arguments and disagreements over increasingly petty matters cropped up with greater frequency as the days rolled by. The tension wasn’t helped by the lack of news regarding the mystery assassin or the guild master’s movements. Both were understandable, of course. It wouldn’t be much of an investigation if Cromwell leaked what he knew before he could act on it, and the killer wouldn’t dare make a move on such a heavily fortified location. Or would he? Perhaps this vigilante saw this gathering as an opportunity to take them all out in one fell swoop.

That worrisome thought was frequently thrown around by some, though others were quick to reassure that wouldn’t happen. Between the Necromancers, their undead minions, and the various adventurers and mercenaries serving as guards, Aynor Keep was presently home to a small army. Anyone brazen enough to attack would be put down in moments.

Assuming, of course, those hirelings did their job of patrolling the perimeter. Unsurprisingly, there were many who refused to babysit over a
hundred Taboo holders no matter the coin on offer. It wasn’t just the principle. It took a certain level of scumbaggery and poor morals for someone to be able to ignore the disgusting sensations emitted by that stigma of a Skill.

In other words, all these high-strung Necromancers were seeking shelter from an unknown assailant while guarded by a bunch of borderline bandits.

The level of distrust between potential victims and would-be protectors was astronomical. Even though a fair chunk of the adventurers and mercenaries were technically part of the Order, none gave a shit about any of the lives in their charge beyond earning a paycheck. It wasn’t hard to imagine one or more of these people might sell the corpse-talkers out for the right price. Or worse – the killer could very well be among them. Frankly speaking, it was a small miracle that Aynor Keep hadn’t devolved into a paranoia-fueled riot. It was only a matter of time before something set off the mass of twitchy twinkle-fingers.

And tonight, it finally happened.

A loud screech pierced the stormy darkness as a gargoyle fell to earth with a massive, frozen hole punched clean through its chest. Three more followed by the time the alarm was raised, and four beholders were banished to their home dimension before they could report on who or what was assaulting them. People spilled into the courtyard, primed and ready for a confrontation. Undead rose from their buried positions and demons were being rapidly summoned. The keep’s magical defenses were activated, and a shimmering blue barrier covered the entire base, cutting off the icy rain while providing ample light.

This contingency was activated far too late, as the assailant was already inside, dropping the floating sentries left and right with frightening speed.

The gathered people stared skyward, but they couldn’t see any sign of an intruder. It was almost as if the levitating heads were being sliced apart by nothing. The unseen invader wrapped up the gargoyles in barely visible webs and gouged out their innards, rendering the tamed monsters just as ineffective. Not even a minute passed before the fort’s air superiority was completely decimated.

The unknown invader then started picking off the ground forces by crushing a random Necromancer flat with an unseen force. Three of his colleagues
were decapitated simultaneously. Another’s upper half disappeared, gobbled up by the invisible monster in one bite. The next victim didn’t even feel anything as a blade cut him neatly in half top-to-bottom. It wasn’t just the corpse-talkers, either. Warriors, Rangers, Rogues, Wizards, Warlocks –
all were dismembered one after the other. Death spread seemingly at random, with no warning or reason behind it. As the violence spread, chaos and fear took hold. The hardened veterans who were desensitized to bloody battlefields kept their wits about them, but the newbies were another story.

It was inevitable that one of them would make a horribly poor decision that made things worse.

The first greenhorn to buckle was a barely Level 20 Necromancer. She was a homely-looking black-haired girl that frantically prepared a certain Spell.

It was one of the Necromancer’s few means of direct offense, and quite the powerful one to boot. Unleashing it in such a crowded space was going to hurt more people than it would protect, but the girl was already terrified beyond reason. The rookie snapped when she saw the man in front of her suddenly collapse without a head, blood spraying from the stump of his neck.

“Corpse Explosion!”

The incantation was unleashed in the next instant with the latest victim as the target. The fresh corpse exploded into a shower of boiling blood and flaming bone, injuring the caster and three other people in the process.

Everyone’s attention focused on the blast’s location. By sheer chance, that desperately thrown out Spell had also caught the assailant in its wide area of effect. It dealt minimal damage, yet that was enough to knock out the optical camouflage that obscured their form.

It was then that every person on the scene was finally able to lay eyes upon the monster that had been butchering them. It had a slender humanoid body, rather androgynous in shape. It was fully covered in an ice-like carapace so black it seemed to suck away what little light there was. The creature’s right half was covered by steaming crimson blood, courtesy of that panicked incantation. Its hands and feet were adorned with bladed claws that put the gargoyles’ natural weapons to shame. Eight crystalline appendages jutted out of its back, each tipped with a massive double-edged blade. A sleek,
pointed abdomen that seemed more at home on a wasp than a spider hung from its lower back where one might expect to find a tail.

What cemented this monster’s arachnid origins, however, was the appearance of its head. It maintained vaguely human-like proportions, which was difficult to determine since it had spikes of tar-colored ice instead of hair. The same stuff also obscured its upper face, although a set of eight orange eyes glimmered just beneath the transparent mask. Two pairs of massive, bladed mandibles flanked its mouth, forming an ‘X’ as they clacked together. The maw behind them was unnaturally wide, seemingly encompassing over half of the head’s lower region. Naturally, it was filled with teeth so sharp each of them might as well have been an arrow.

The observers were allowed a brief glance at the blade-like dentures, as the creature had opened its mouth for one express purpose.

* SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK *

A deafening screech washed over the fort, drowning out all other noise. The disorienting sound, the monster’s truly nightmarish features, the side-effects of Butcher of Humanity, and the full force of Despair Aura blended together to create a wave of pure terror. It was so potent that people began fleeing for their lives, abandoning any pretense of working together or caring for another. Those that didn’t run still found their hearts pounding, hands
shaking, lips quivering, and vision blurring. Since no Priests or Paladins could be found on this unholy ground, there was nobody around to shield the residents from this mental assault.

The spider-thing resumed its duty with extreme fervor. Enraged by having been revealed in such a clumsy manner, it was no longer content to just slice people open or bite chunks of them off in passing. It activated Power Overwhelming and sent a horizontally-oriented Reality Slash through the crowd. Dozens of men and women were bisected in an instant, sending sprays of blood through the air. Spell Crystals and grenades were hurled all over the place, peppering the courtyard with flames, shrapnel, darkness, and even a supercharged Singularity.

Boxxy then moved on to rounding up those that tried to flee initially. It leapt through the air at a low angle, beheading people and undead alike as it bounced from shoulder to shoulder. The dopple-stalker tossed wads of Impact Webbing all over the place, which expanded and wrapped around any poor sods they hit. It liberally sprayed acid on people, making them scream out in pain and further adding to the chaos. Some desperate souls sent their minions at it, barraged it with magic, or put up magical defenses, but all was for naught. Boxxy’s Malefic Union with Drea had given it access to the Counterspell Skill, which allowed it to rip through any magic standing in its way. The Mana Locator Gland hidden inside its body gave it omnidirectional awareness, allowing its numerous limbs to deflect attacks coming in from all angles at once.

The rest of the people gathered didn’t fare much better than the Spell-slingers. The few well-armored bodyguards were set ablaze by Ebonfire, while the more agile ones fell victim to the shapeshifter’s superior speed. It also created multiple copies of itself through Mirror Image, further increasing the rate at which the sheep were slaughtered. As for the ones that ran and actually made it out of the fort’s confines, they would find themselves facing either a djinn or an archfiend, depending on how terrible their luck was.

Unfortunately for Boxxy, it lost track of time as it indulged its natural urge to kill, maim, and devour. Malefic Union’s three minutes expired all too soon, causing the monster to collapse on the spot. It vomited uncontrollably as its hard shell became a viscous sludge, rendering it unable to defend
itself. Some of the adventurers noticed this moment of weakness and moved in to strike, but Boxxy’s body doubles – which still maintained their pseudo-arachnid form – stepped in to protect it. These Mirror Images couldn’t use many of the original’s Skills and only commanded a fraction of its strength, but they were more than enough to cover Boxxy until it got back on its feet.

Once it did, the hylt creeper wasted no time. Wielding Voidcaller, it instantly summoned Drea back to the physical realm, where the two began merging once more. Unlike that first time with Arms, Boxxy found Claws a far more agreeable ‘host.’ The process was still painful, but nowhere near as agonizing as with the archfiend. It would appear that the once-mimic and the former-stalker were, for a lack of a better word, extremely compatible.

Thinking back on it, the monster’s original instincts were quite similar to that of a spider, and it thoroughly enjoyed the use of arachnid limbs. In some ways, this outcome almost made sense, even though it really didn’t.

It wasn’t necessarily a good thing, though. The merger between them was so seamless that Boxxy was finding it hard to differentiate its own personality from Claws, her intents and habits reinforcing its own primal wants and needs. That was why it found itself unable to resist taking a bite out of its victims now and then even if it was risky or inefficient, or why it was so superbly pissed off it had been seen as a result of that Corpse Explosion. Even though it practiced fusing with the webstalker leading up to this event, maintaining total control while in the thick of battle had proven exceptionally difficult.

Having become a dopple-stalker once more, Boxxy wasted no more time resuming its grim duty. This fodder hardly even stood a chance, though.

The majority of them were magic-wielders, the natural prey of demons like Claws. The rest were crushed under the monster’s ridiculously bloated Status. Regardless of whether they fought back, ran for their lives, or hid in a corner somewhere in the keep, they were all methodically hunted down and eliminated. Even as the second Malefic Union wore off and the shapeshifter was forced to rely on slightly less expedient means of murder.

Rather than a battle, the situation ultimately became a one-sided massacre that saw the death of one hundred and eighty seven people within less than twenty minutes.

Boxxy took down the last survivor by ripping their heart out with a bladed hand, which it viciously chomped on as the life faded from their eyes. A dreadful silence enveloped Aynor Keep as the shapeshifter casually climbed atop the tallest tower and looked upon its work. There was blood everywhere, and mangled bodies were strewn all over. It was a gruesome, grizzly scene that would surely make all but the most jaded of adventurers vacate the contents of their stomachs. The only thing that could’ve caused this much carnage was without a doubt a vicious monster who thrived on naught but death and violence.

“… Crap. I got carried away, didn’t I?”

This was a bit of a problem. The plan was to have Accatau, the ‘current’

Hero of Death, take the blame for all this. However, nobody in their right mind would think this was the doing of the world’s greatest assassin. Oh, well. The issue was more of a chore than a problem. The shapeshifter had already eliminated anything resembling a witness, so at this point it only had to set the scene. That would involve a whole lot of cleanup, which was why most of the tasks were delegated to the demonic trio.

Snack was assigned to lookout duty, whereby she would keep watch for any approaching people from the air. Not that her Master was expecting company. The only ones who would think of coming this way were members of the Order of the Black Wand who were running late, drunkards who lost their way, or idiots who didn’t know any better. As unlikely as it was for someone to just show up at a place like this, it was vital that nobody saw it until it was done, otherwise this entire ruse would fall apart.

Arms’s considerable muscle power was put to use carrying the bodies and their various bits into a huge pile in the courtyard. She naturally felt dissatisfied having to do menial labor, especially since she hadn’t had enough fun. She only got to crush twenty or so skulls while she was watching the perimeter, which was more than most days, but not nearly enough violence to satiate her inherent bloodlust. Then again, as far as archfiends were concerned, pummeling every living thing on this world into soup wouldn’t be ‘enough violence.’

As for Claws, she was given the task of processing the corpses. Anything that looked magical or shiny was stripped from the dead bodies and thrown into a nearby treasure chest for her master’s later perusal. After looting a
body, she would do one of two things to it. If the deceased wasn’t afflicted with Taboo – which could be felt even after their passing – then they would just be set aside to be eaten or absorbed. If they were a sinner, their skull would be removed and meticulously stripped of all skin, hair, flesh, muscle, and sinew. The webstalker took great pleasure in doing that with her own claws and teeth. She also got first pick of the tainted bodies’ remaining organs for her midnight snack. In her eyes, this was an amazing reward considering she didn’t need to do much aside from lending her power.

While all of that was going on, Boxxy got busy erasing any evidence of violence from inside the keep. It was one of the few things it had a natural talent for since the day it was born. Admittedly, the scale of this operation was unlike anything else it ever had to deal with, but that just meant the volume of work was bigger. The methods involved would still be the same.

Blood splatters were either licked up or burned away with acid, depending on the surface. Rogue body parts were gobbled up, and any smashed up objects were collected for later disposal. Even scratches or gashes in the furniture or floorboards were covered up thanks to the monster’s Phytokinesis Skill. The chips and cracks in the stonework were unsalvageable, but it was unlikely anyone would notice those. Even Boxxy had a hard time telling which of the markings had been there before it arrived. Cleaning the courtyard would be a bit trickier since the soil had soaked up much of the blood, but it wasn’t impossible. Fortunately it was still raining, so the monster merely had to bring down the siege barrier and let the weather dilute the bodily fluids for a few hours.

Once its work was complete, the shapeshifter could leave the keep in a state that would make it impossible to think a large-scale fight had broken out.

“Master! We have an airborne intruder coming in from the east!”

Unfortunately, Snack had made a rather un-tasty report before it could finish up.

“Claws! Arms! You two get inside and hide!” it commanded. “I’m on my way up to see for myself.”

Boxxy threw on Accatau’s disguise and dashed to the roof of one of the central keep’s towers. The rain had lessened to a light drizzle by now, allowing the monster an unobstructed view of the sky. The clouds had been
dyed a fitting blood-red by the sun that hadn’t quite risen over the horizon, but there was something far more impressive flying just beneath them.

Boxxy used Eagle Eye to zoom in on the dragon-shaped shadow and confirmed that it was, as one might expect, a dragon. One made out of bleached bones and stitched together with rotting flesh and muscle that was just barely keeping it whole. It had a wingspan of over thirty meters and was about twenty meters long from snout to spike-tipped tail. Riding upon this unholy beast’s back was someone the Eyes of the Dead God identified as another of Boxxy targets – arguably the most troublesome one on its

‘naughty list.’

The rider was Nora Cromwell, a Ranker. Boxxy was unpleasantly surprised to see her, as she was one of several Necromancers who didn’t respond to its ‘invitation.’ It was understandable that not all of them would show up.

Some probably felt they couldn’t trust the guild with their lives and remained in hiding, while others couldn’t be reached at all due to them being away on a Quest or some other errand. Nora’s case was quite different, though, as she had clearly shown up ready for war. She probably felt quite confident going it alone, and with good reason. According to Boxxy’s information, she was the only Level 100 Necromancer in the Order. She was also the guild master’s sister, and likely a big part of why the organization was so readily accepting of her kind. As for her Ultimate Skill, the only thing Boxxy knew was that it was called Bone Dragon, though it was painfully obvious what its effects were by now.

However, it was worth noting that the thing she was riding wasn’t actually a skeletal wyrm. Upon further inspection, Boxxy’s enhanced eyesight determined it was merely an undead construct in the shape of one. Its skull, for example, was made out of the compressed remains of dozens, probably hundreds of corpses. It made the shapeshifter quite curious whether this thing was anywhere near as strong as its legendary namesake. Luckily, it had just the guinea pig to test it out.

“Snack, can she see you?” it called out.

“I don’t think so, Master. I’ve covered myself with a cloud-shaped mirage.”

“Then would you kindly introduce yourself by spraying your fire magic all over our guest’s face?”

“As you command, my Master.”

Boxxy kept staring at the circling not-dragon in the sky while the djinn drew closer. The bone construct suddenly swerved around and unleashed its version of a dragon’s most fearsome weapon – its breath. A stream of sickeningly green mist was ejected from its maw at high speeds, enveloping the ‘invisible’ djinn and wiping all but her soul out of existence in a matter of seconds. The shapeshifter was quite surprised, though not at Snack’s detection. A Level 100 adventurer would surely have countermeasures against something like illusions and mirages, especially if she had shown up expecting trouble. The shocking part was how much power was behind the attack that just hit Snack. Even Boxxy might get wiped out if it took that thing head-on. It would appear that, even if it was a knock-off, that dragon was quite formidable.

However, it was ultimately just another undead pawn under a Necromancer’s control, which meant it had three key weaknesses. The first was fire magic. This was Snack’s specialty, though it was quite obvious she’d be unable to get in close enough to actually use it. The second was holy magic, which Boxxy did not have access to since Fizzy was still unaccounted for. The third and arguably most exploitable weakness was Nora herself. If she could be eliminated, then her minion would lose cohesiveness and crumble to bits. The problem was that her bony beast was covering her completely, making it quite difficult to get a clean shot. Boxxy could theoretically float up there to get a better angle, but maintaining the Flight Spell and engaging in combat were mutually exclusive activities unless one had the right Skill. Any ranged attack would have to be launched from the ground, but hitting her from its current position was outright impossible.

Unless, of course, the shapeshifter could somehow curve its shots.

Up in the air, Nora was silently cursing under her breath. She had come here because that ‘invitation’ smelled fishy. Rumors tended to spread at the speed of light, so she was aware that her guild’s Necromancers were being targeted, but the Order offering them protection? It was ludicrous to think her brother would ever approve something that expensive. He wasn’t a cheapskate, but he was far too frugal to spend so much gold on a bunch of nobodies. She would understand if he did it just to protect her and maybe a
few of the more promising ones, but that wasn’t the case. Otherwise, she would have received a secret communication or message or something –
anything – to explain his intentions. Unfortunately, the man had disappeared abruptly without a word, which only deepened her worries.

She therefore came here, as it was the only lead she had on her missing brother. And what did she find? A bloodied courtyard, a pile of bodies, a floating pest, and a masked lizard standing atop one of the keep’s tallest towers. Granted, she didn’t have a scout’s trained eyesight and couldn’t make out any details since she was over a hundred meters away, but she still concluded two things. One, she had just missed the ‘party,’ and, two, that scaly bastard was either directly involved or outright responsible. As she glared down at him, she noticed something else. Streaks of shimmering blue flew towards her at breakneck speeds. She stopped peering over her seat in between the massive spikes along the Bone Dragon’s spine and ducked behind the protrusions to protect her head. The attacks coming from below shattered against the beast’s underside with loud noises akin to glass breaking. They did a grand total of zero damage, nullified by the Bone Dragon’s Chill of the Grave Perk. It was something present within all undead with corporeal forms and the source of both their immunity to cold-based damage and their vulnerability to fire.

Nora was not an idiot. Even if that ‘warning shot’ did nothing, the fact that her suspect was able to hit a fast moving target like her pet at this distance was immensely impressive. It showed he was a Ranger of considerable Level and not someone she should underestimate. It also made her question if that really was the Hero of Death. She had never met Accatau, but she knew of him from her brother, and this didn’t seem like his handiwork. Not that it mattered at this point. Regardless of the stranger’s identity, it was clear he’d take her head off if she gave him the opportunity, so she resolved to avoid doing that as much as possible.

Casting the Sight of Korolog Spell upon her gigantic minion, she was able to perceive the world through its senses. She began controlling the almost-dragon more actively, making it turn towards the archer. He fired dozens of arrows at her, but they all smashed hopelessly against the creature as it dived closer. Once close enough, the wyrm unleashed its breath once again with the intent to kill. Nora had determined this was not an opponent she
could safely capture alive, but she could still interrogate his corpse.

Assuming something was left behind, of course.

However, Boxxy’s servants triggered the fort’s magical defenses before the stream of decay could reach their master, causing the Bone Dragon’s attack to be repelled by the siege barrier. Nora clicked her tongue in frustration.

While her pet’s strongest move was stupidly effective against living things, it didn’t do much against inanimate objects or magical barriers. These were the ups and downs of using concentrated Blight as a weapon. The blast did have a corrosive property to it, but it was nowhere near potent enough to breach those military-grade defenses. This shortcoming was why she had denied participating in the recent war, which turned out to be the right decision considering how many of her peers had fallen. Admittedly, she was rather thrilled when she learned that pompous bastard of a ‘Holy Necromancer’ had bitten the big one, but she had more pressing matters to worry about.

Another volley of arrows came in from the archer, passing through the one-way barrier and peppering the undead abomination once again. These were different from the first, however, as they exploded violently in fire and smoke. The Bone Dragon was far too tough to fall to those, but they obscured its vision and forced Nora pull up all the same. She was continually bombarded with more of the weird, flat-headed projectiles, but they became easier and easier to evade the higher her altitude. As she climbed, Nora realized this fight wasn’t in her favor. If her enemy could damage her pet, but she couldn’t return the favor, then the outcome was obvious. The best course of action was to flee, so she did.

The Necromancer turned the faux-dragon’s head around to look back over its shoulder as it flew further away from the keep. Its glowing blue eyes showed her that more bomb-tipped arrows were incoming, which she reacted to by firing back a half-powered breath. Even if its corrosive effects were relatively weak, they were more than enough to prematurely detonate the explosive devices and cover her retreat. Just then, a stream of more enchanted ice arrows flew out of the smog. Nora’s focus sharpened, as she wasn’t sure why her enemy would keep using ineffective attacks. It was only when it became obvious they’d fly harmlessly over the dragon’s back that she allowed herself to relax the tiniest bit.

This was exactly the opening her opponent intended to exploit, as, in that moment, the magical projectiles swerved unnaturally towards her. Nora nudged her ride to roll to the left in a panicked response, but it was far too late. A total of five icy arrows ripped right through her robe and the chainmail armor underneath despite their enchantments. The projectiles dug deep into the woman’s back. She screamed out in pain as the searing sensation was instantly replaced by biting cold when the wounds began to ice over. She struggled to maintain a grip on her consciousness as heat rapidly left her body, and she fumbled around the potion pack strapped to her hip to administer some first aid.

Down on the ground, Boxxy continued firing Winter’s Bite. Unfortunately, it had lost the angle it needed to allow the Artifact-grade bow’s heat-seeking arrows to curve around the Necromancer’s cover. If it was too wide they wouldn’t pick her up at all. If it was too close, they would end up hitting the dragon. Thankfully, the beast was cold as death, so they only had one viable target. One that it had just severely injured, yet lived. The not-a-dragon’s flight path was a bit wobbly and unsteady, but it was clearly not dead. Or was that re-dead? Un-undead? Boxxy never knew what word to use in these situations. What about ‘destroyed?’ Yeah, that worked.

Semantics aside, Boxxy still had a job to finish, so it put away the crystal bow and started focusing its magic onto its own body.

“Flight!”

Its body shot up into the air as the lizardman-shaped monster gave chase. It steadily gained on its target, but doubted it could reach Nora in time. As convenient as it was, Flight was a Spell with certain hard limits. One had to keep their body as still as possible to maintain it, and it would only last a certain amount of time or a set distance traveled, depending on which limit was reached first. It also had a top speed and a maximum altitude, the last of which was the most pressing problem given the Necromancer’s mostly vertical trajectory.

Boxxy had a fix for that, though. Once it felt the Flight Spell reaching its height limit, it reached into its Storage. The sudden movement broke the Spell, leaving nothing but inertia to carry the monster upward. Before gravity could fully reclaim it, the shapeshifter pulled out a grappling gun it had thrown together in its spare time. It was a one-shot wonder that would
need to be reloaded with blast powder and then repaired in order to be re-fired, but that one shot was all the monster needed. It aimed the handheld device’s barrel and pulled the trigger. The hook was launched with a loud bang and a gust of smoke, sending it flying towards the dragon-shaped skeleton. It hit the monster’s flailing tail and lodged in between its bones.

Boxxy climbed up the rope, which threatened to snap due from the combined strain of the creature’s weight at the lower end and the way it was swaying wildly in the wind.

Nora was too busy treating her grievous wounds with healing potions to notice she had a hitchhiker. It was only when her heart was gouged out from behind that she realized her opponent had followed her aboard. Needless to say, it was far too late for her at that point. With its master dead, the Bone Dragon let out a pathetic cry and grew still, after which it fell towards the ground. On its way down it began to crumble into the countless bones that made up its body, just as Boxxy predicted. The macabre debris rained down on the swamp where they would remain scattered for good.

That still left the matter of the plummeting shapeshifter, but it wasn’t worried. Even though activating Flight under these circumstances would probably be impossible, it didn’t need to even make the attempt. It leapt off the decaying pseudo-dragon and sprouted a quartet of leathery demonic wings, which it used to glide back to the ground and land without much incident. As satisfying as that kill had been, however, it would appear it hadn’t been enough. Aside from the five other blips on its divine radar, Boxxy’s augmented vision also spotted what seemed to be Nora’s tainted soul darting off towards the horizon at a speed no mortal could match. That was the only explanation it could think of for why her glow hadn’t disappeared like the others. The Quest Progress counter didn’t go up either, which, when combined with past experiences, led Boxxy to one plausible explanation.

Its quarry was about to become a lich not unlike the woman called Valeria from the Boxxy’s final days as a mere mimic, better known to the creature as Nasty. This was an issue, but ultimately amounted to little more than a brief delay. While that pervert had been a formidable opponent when they first met, the shapeshifter had grown astonishingly more powerful since then in every imaginable aspect. It was quite confident it could take Nora down a second time. Especially since changing bodies like that would have
deprived her of both her Ultimate Skill and her Level 100 Necromancer Job. Needless to say, a powerless being like that offered so little of a challenge that she would not be worth a single drop of XP. To make matters better – or worse, depending on the point of view – her tainted spirit was even flying in the direction of another of its marks.

Boxxy was quite confident it could still accomplish the Quest well before the time limit. In fact, with a bit of luck, it would already be done with this business and back in Azurvale an entire week before the deadline, perhaps even earlier. That was just how much of a resounding success Operation People Herder had been. As for the Imperial authorities, the only thing they would find at Aynor Keep would be a spotless yet deserted fortress. That, and a bunch of polished Taboo-ridden skulls strewn across its courtyard in a way that spelled out one of Mortimer’s most famous and infamous decrees.

‘Death brings absolution.’

Chapter Two

Growing Pains

Part One

Boxxy had miscalculated.

The shapeshifter watched helplessly as Nora Cromwell flew off towards the horizon to the south. While the monster had been correct in assuming she had become an undead lich, the Bone Dragon she was riding made it clear that she did not, in fact, lose her Level 100 Necromancer Job. The woman had already bound her soul to a phylactery through some ungodly ritual years ago, allowing her to retain most of her original Status. She had done this as a sort of insurance for the inevitable day when she would perish, though she collected on it much sooner than anticipated.

However, Boxxy did not know that. It had mistakenly used Valeria’s transformation into a lich as the standard. In retrospect, it was a bit ludicrous to think that a lich’s natural lifecycle involved getting killed, being revived by a dungeon as a banshee, breaking free of it, and only then possessing a phylactery. This misunderstanding was why the shapeshifter failed to consider the possibility that Nora would maintain her mystical abilities. Otherwise, it would have made a beeline for her position instead of saving her for last. At least it wasn’t as if it put off tracking her down out of something as self-destructive as arrogance. Following the events at Aynor Keep, the former human’s soul had flown off towards the other side of the Empire, ‘landing’ somewhere on the south-western edge of the continent. Now that there were only a handful of targets left, Boxxy was able to determine the shortest route to connect the dots between them, which, coincidentally, put Nora at the very end of the list. Since it had assumed she’d be a pushover, it didn’t think to prioritize her.

Therein lay the root of the problem. Boxxy’s ignorance caused it to underestimate the lich and give her too much time to gather her strength.

When the shapeshifter eventually came for her a second time, she was ready. It tried to sneak up on her physical form in order to assassinate her and use the Eyes of the Dead God to track down her phylactery through her befouled spirit. However, the monster lacked the ability to evade magical detection, so Nora’s Detect Life Skill, courtesy of her new Lich Job, had picked it up long before it was in striking distance. Once she realized she
was still being targeted, Nora decided to play it safe and ran away at full speed aboard her reconstructed pseudo-dragon.

Boxxy would have given chase, but its final target had flown south across the ocean, likely headed for the next continent over. Since she was riding a tireless flying beast in pristine condition, it could not hope to match her speed with just Flight. It might have been able to keep up if it was running over dry land, but swimming had never been its strong suit. Plus, crossing the Shimmering Ocean was notoriously difficult due to the gigantic sea monsters and violent storms that frequented those waters. The only feasible way to follow the lich to her destination was to charter a boat or look into hiring aerial transport in the shape of a griffon. However, the former would take far too long to get there, and the latter was out since cross-continental flights couldn’t be booked by just anyone.

As such, with just eleven days left before both the year and Quest ended, Boxxy had to begrudgingly give up on it. Admittedly, it was highly unlikely the lich would go blabbing about who really wiped out Aynor Keep, but that small upside failed to quell the monster’s fury. It wasn’t angry just because Nora had gotten away and wasted weeks of effort, but also at itself for making such a blunder. The core of the issue was that it had underestimated adventurers’ resourcefulness. Perhaps arrogance was the root cause after all.

It was such an infuriatingly stereotypical and basic mistake it felt like wiping out an entire city just to vent its frustrations.

Speaking of which, wasn’t that place nearby?

Boxxy tore its hateful glare away from the point in the horizon where Nora had disappeared and took a closer look at its surroundings. The lich’s recent handiwork had tainted the area with Blight and killed off much of the vegetation, but it soon realized why this foggy swampland felt oddly familiar. It was currently standing on the edge of the Whispering Marshes that lay south of the city of Erosa, which was relatively near the Calamity of Monotal. The shapeshifter needed to distract itself somehow, so it decided it might as well check in on its birthplace after all this time. It threw on a hooded traveler’s cloak and heavy-looking backpack, assuming the guise of a wandering human merchant. It was still the middle of the day, so it proceeded towards Erosa at a brisk pace that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. It soon saw the city’s familiar walls in the distance, which triggered an odd
surge of nostalgia. Sure, this was the place where that man Edward had captured it and crippled it by removing its Warlock Job, but it was also where it met Cornie Fizzlesprocket – the gnome that eventually became its most prized shiny.

However, as Boxxy drew closer, it realized the place had been abandoned.

The gates were wide open and unguarded, and there wasn’t a single sign of life on the streets. The creature investigated the area out of curiosity and almost immediately spotted a clue. Copies of the same poster seemed to have been plastered all over the city, though its full contents proved more difficult to read than anticipated. Rain, snow, and wind had ruined whatever postings weren’t already ripped up or otherwise vandalized. The monster continued searching for an intact copy of the document. While it did, it happened to come across a certain hovel. It was a simple dwelling fit for a no-name peasant, yet it stood out because of the pair of chest-sized holes on the opposite side of its walls. The monster realized this was the same building Edward had kicked it through during its capture, so it vented some of its frustrations by annihilating the structure with a Dark Explosion.

That bit of petty revenge felt good, and more importantly helped clear up the peeved creature’s thoughts. It realized the posters were probably issued by the local government, meaning the best place to find a legible copy was at the keep. Sure enough, it found plenty of them littering the ground just inside the entrance. Without further ado, it picked up the cleanest-looking one and gave it a quick read.

NOTICE OF MANDATORY RELOCATION

Attention, proud people of Erosa!

As many of you have already heard, the poisonous smog released by the Calamity of Monotal is slowly spreading with no end in sight. Though the Sawblade Mountains to the north keep it from spilling out of Cradle Valley and infecting the heartlands of our beloved Empire, this fair city will sadly not be spared. Members of the Arcaneum, who are working tirelessly to counteract and contain this threat, have determined the region surrounding Erosa will be unsuitable to support life within half a year.

His Majesty, Emperor Joseph Frederick von Einhart III, has therefore decreed that all law-abiding citizens are to vacate the city of Erosa by the
last day of the month of Juniper. Please rest assured that the Empire will provide funds, provisions, and protection to facilitate the smooth relocation of all citizens from the city and its neighboring settlements. Those who refuse to evacuate the city by the specified deadline will be found in violation of an imperial decree, and will be punished accordingly. I understand that being forced out of one’s home may seem harsh and unfair, but I ask that all citizens keep in mind that this is for their own safety and well-being.

Signed,

Thomas Broadhurst, Lord-Mayor of Erosa

Well, that certainly explained why this place was a ghost town. That deadline had expired more than three months ago. Boxy was curious exactly how far that toxic cloud had spread, so it climbed one of the central keep’s towers to get a better vantage point. There didn’t seem to be anyone around to stop it from trespassing, but it moved stealthily just in case. Once it reached the top, it looked to the northwest – the direction this ‘smog’ was supposedly rolling in from. Using Eagle Eye, it confirmed that the land itself seemed to be slowly dying, as a huge portion of the luscious, dense Troll Woods were gray and barren. There was also an ominous bright green cloud hanging heavily in the air, far in the distance. There seemed to only be about two or three kilometers of healthy soil between the city and the encroaching fog, which was probably why not even vagrants could be seen around. The sheer scale of this ongoing disaster made the shapeshifter worry if it should have been seeking Zephyra’s forgiveness rather than Teresa’s.

It most certainly did not want the web of lies it built in Azurvale to unravel because some fickle Goddess branded it with Taboo.

*Ring Ring*

The monster was still staring at the decaying treeline in the distance when it got a call from Demons ‘R’ Us, which it knew to answer as soon as possible.

*Click*

“Yes?”

“Hey, buddy! Carl here.”

“Hey, Carl.”

“You doing anything important?”

“Not really.”

“That’s good, because the big man would like a word with you. Should I patch him through?”

“Sure. Been meaning to speak with him anyway.”

*Click*

“Boxxy!” came Rupert’s cheerful voice. “Sorry for interrupting your brooding, but I just realized something. It’s about the Quest I asked you to take care of on Morty’s behalf.”

“I don’t think I can get it done before I hit the deadline,” said Boxxy matter-of-factly. “That one Necromancer got away, and I can’t catch up to her in the next eleven days.”

“Yeah, about that… Since you’re my Hero rather than Morty’s, I was the one responsible for handing you the task. Thing is, I misunderstood what the bony bastard meant. The deadline for it wasn’t ‘by year’s end,’ but

‘within one year.’”

“… You’re telling me I didn’t have several weeks, but twelve full months?”

“Pretty much.”

Boxxy quietly and rapidly processed this news. It weighed the likelihood of this blunder being intentional rather than accidental. It also considered the fact that, regardless of how it originated, the Goddess of Coincidences purposefully waited until now to clear this up. It was likely she wanted to watch the shapeshifter take unnecessary risks like Operation People Herder in order to keep things ‘interesting.’ So, after carefully thinking things over, Boxxy reached a singular conclusion.

“I hate you.”

“Heh. Well, can’t say I can blame you for that. It’s not all bad, though.

Morty’s actually quite pleased with how things turned out. That stunt you
pulled with the skulls has already put the fear of death into heretics throughout the Empire. That was the point of this whole endeavor to begin with, so I’d say your job is pretty much done.”

“Yeah, I thought as much. That said, do you mind marking this Quest as complete?”

“No can do, Boxxy. Though it was presented as a Quest, what you accepted was a devil’s contract. Same stuff as what your familiars are bound by, and I’m sure you’re aware how strict those are. So, I’m afraid a Progress counter that’s one short of completion is not enough to claim your prize.”

“Of course it’s not,” groaned the shapeshifter. “I’m starting to wonder if I really want to bother with this bullshit. I mean what the crap is that

‘Teresa’s forgiveness’ even about?”

“Oh, that? Hmm, how should I put this… Let’s just say Teresa owed both me and Morty for all the shenanigans she pulled leading up to her rehabilitation. So, I got her to agree to officially pardon your crimes against her people. Mind you, she’ll still hate your guts afterwards, but she’ll be able to tell her Inquisition that ‘the perpetrator behind the Calamity has paid for their crimes against humanity’ in good conscience.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” confirmed Julian. “It’s mostly a formality, to be honest.

Though the mortals may have some trouble accepting it, your death already absolved you of your sins as far as the pantheon is concerned.”

“You sure about that? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but I did come back to life.”

“Not by your own hand or intention, though. Unlike that Necromancer from earlier, your resurrection was entirely out of your control – aside from the dying part – and the soul of the one who did that has already been claimed by Morty’s Hero. So, all’s square and settled as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh. You know you could’ve mentioned all this earlier, right?”

“I thought it was rather obvious. Did you seriously think that the very words you spelled out with skulls didn’t apply to you?”

“How would I know? This entire thing sounds like a flimsy technicality to me.”

“Technicality or not, such are the laws of this world as decreed by its deities. And those, my box-minded friend, do not allow exceptions. Except when they do.”

“Whatever. My point is, I still haven’t heard anything that would make me want to keep this up. I’m not going to run around doing your guys’ dirty work if all I have to show for it is ‘forgiveness’ and ‘favors.’”

“Don’t be like that. I assure you I have some tasty rewards lined up for you.

I was actually planning to get rid of that Cat Job for you at some point.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“… I wouldn’t be against it, no.”

“That’s not even the big one! I’m planning to tell you all about the Divine-class item I personally created, so long as you keep up the good work!”

Boxxy immediately salivated at the mention of the highest rank of magic equipment. It had previously only heard rumors of the ‘Divine’ tier of gear and wasn’t sure if it truly existed, but now it had confirmation directly from McCoy. However, its enthusiasm rapidly made a nosedive when it remembered who it was speaking to. The God of Chance was very particular about his words, so it was not a good idea to take them at face value. A certain phrase particularly stood out.

“What do you mean you’ll tell me about it?” it asked dubiously.

“I’ll let you know its location, its function, and how to obtain it,” explained Rick. “Whether you want to chase after it is up to you. So, what do you say?”

“… Alright, fine. I’ll see about tracking that lich down eventually. Right now I really should head home and deal with the situation there.”

“Whatever you want, little guy. Girl. Thing.”

“What about Fizzy? You promised you’d tell me where she is.”

“I did, didn’t I? Well, I have some time to kill so I can get that over with right now if you want me to.”

“Please do.”

Boxxy set off for the nearest major city while Greg explained what the missing mithril golem had been up to. Apparently, she escaped the destruction of the Vault Beneath the Mountain by accidentally teleporting herself to one of the three moons. Tascuna, to be specific. Apparently, there was some business involving moon-gnomes and moon-bugs that she was uniquely suited to handling on the Gods’ behalf. Unfortunately, as much as it wanted to blast off and retrieve her that very instant, Boxxy lacked the ability to reach Tascuna since the device Fizzy used to get there was vaporized. The golem had to make it back under her own power, and that was extremely unlikely to happen before year’s end. At least Chloe seemed confident the radiant construct would return to Azurvale eventually, so Boxxy only had to wait.

The relatively good news reinvigorated the shapeshifter as it began the long journey home, though it didn’t head there directly. Its first stop was the city of Stanmore, a major port about a hundred kilometers east of Erosa. Once there, it began gathering some information on ships headed out to the southern continent. It was planning on heading there eventually, so now was a good time as any to scope things out. It visited a guild called Dave’s Mariners which, despite the plain name, was the best in the country when it came to intercontinental voyages. It confirmed the trip was indeed quite lengthy, dangerous, and expensive. Those nautical experts assured their visitor that only fourteen out of the fifty-seven voyages they undertook over the past year had suffered casualties, and only one was completely wiped out. This, apparently, was an impressive track record.

After receiving a few more details about the trip and what to expect for future reference, Boxxy visited a different guild. This one was called the Keepers of the Way. It was a magic-centric organization that specialized in teleportation and spatial manipulation. They had a network of Wizards stationed around key outposts and villages to allow rapid transit via consecutive use of the Gate Spell. Their services were rather expensive and had a limited capacity, making it so wealthy individuals were their only clients. Boxxy had made use of their network quite extensively during its hunt, as it was much quicker and less tiresome than using Transfamiliar.

The shapeshifter, still disguised as a wandering merchant, paid for a one-way trip to the royal capital of Oshinas. The journey was completed within half an hour. It could have transferred further north, but the price tag made it reconsider. It wasn’t in that much of a hurry to get back, and it had given those bastards more than enough shinies already. It proceeded the rest of the way on foot. Which, in Boxxy’s case, meant that Snack flew on ahead while her master attended to other matters before swapping places. However, unlike the weeks it spent following Fizzy’s trail around the Horkensaft Kingdom, it made much better use of its time. For one thing, it had discreetly stocked up on parts and components before it left Azurvale, allowing it to steadily advance its Artificer Job in between Transfamiliar jumps. The blast-powered grappling hook it used during its first encounter with Nora, for example, was something it made especially to tackle her Ultimate Skill. Granted, back then it wasn’t sure whether something called

‘Bone Dragon’ would do exactly what its name implied, but its endeavor had still paid off in the end.

Yet, as useful as making gizmos and gadgets turned out to be, tinkering soon took a backseat to something else entirely. After Boxxy stole Remy Cromwell’s Wizard Job, it realized something. If all its Job Slots were filled up, it would be able to use Cadaver Absorption as much as it wanted without fear of contracting another useless vocation it couldn’t get rid of.

There might have been some Monster Job that was worth it even at Level 25, but it had no idea where or even if such a thing could be found. Until then, however, it could continue to acquire seemingly limitless amounts of Skills and Attributes without any negative long-term repercussions. The monster only wondered why it didn’t realize this sooner. It wouldn’t have gotten rid of that Rogue Job it got during the war if it did. Then again, it got a much tastier occupation as a replacement, so perhaps it wasn’t too bad a decision. Retrospect aside, it ended up going on something of an absorption spree ever since that night when it killed the Order of the Black Wand’s guild master.

Boxxy fed more than five hundred corpses into its Cadaver Absorption Skill since that revelation. It had gotten a total of eighty one successes – two Jobs, fifteen Skills, and sixty four Attribute boosts. The Jobs in question were Warrior and Goblin, both of which disappeared into nothingness since its Job slots were full. The total amount of stolen Attributes were easily in
the hundreds and spread out rather randomly, though the majority of them had gone into STR, AGI and END. Not surprising considering monsters were its primary targets, and creatures with relatively tough bodies were far more common than those with inherent magical or mental abilities.

The Skills had some duplicates and overlaps with the shapeshifter’s existing abilities, but it still managed to secure nine new ones. Out of the two purely defensive ones, the first was a gargoyle’s Padded Skin, which reduced damage taken from blunt trauma by a flat amount. The other was Sense Danger which it lifted off a deer. It supposedly helped the creature pick up on nearby threats, but Boxxy wasn’t sure how reliable this thing was considering it did nothing to help its former owner.

The offensive skills were far more interesting. It had gotten Vile Blades off a hobgoblin, which allowed it to spend a bit of MP to coat any hand-held bladed weapons with a toxic substance that dealt additional damage over time. Another janther gave it Aerial Strikes, which enhanced jumping melee attacks. A mid-Level Monk contributed Path of the Dragon, a staff-based combat style that relied on heavy attacks to punch through an opponent’s defenses in one hit. Boxxy didn’t typically fight with a staff, but it used Voidcaller on occasion since the Artifact’s heft and sturdiness made it an effective bludgeoning weapon, so it saw some potential use in this Skill.

The fourth and final offensive ability was Web Throw, a Skill from a giant spider that allowed it to entangle its target in sticky thread from afar. This one was very similar to Claws’s Impact Webbing, though it had a significantly lower range.

In terms of utility, Boxxy was only able to acquire Alchemical Fortitude off a dwarven Alchemist living by himself in the mountains. It raised the user’s tolerance for magical mixtures, allowing them to consume a lot more before succumbing to potion sickness. It also slightly lessened the effects of poisons, but the creature’s Legendary Endurance rendered that a moot point. It was unusual that this was the hermit’s most well-developed ability, though the research journal in his cottage shed some light on that.

Apparently, he had been developing an original alcoholic drink called a

‘Ginger Gangbang,’ and had been testing it on himself ever since he turned his last willing subject permanently blind.

Lastly were the two largely useless Skills. The first of them was Dustoff, a gust of air meant to help harpies rapidly gain altitude. However, it was far too weak to lift a monster of Boxxy’s considerable bulk. Not even growing a dozen wings or using Keira’s weight-reduction rings could help it get airborne. At least it learned how to make feathered wings rather than leathery ones by mimicking the avian humanoids, but it was still unable to soar without the Flight Spell. The other worthless ability was the Monocular Rage of a cyclops, which could only be activated if the monster’s singular eye was blinded. This was not a condition Boxxy wanted to fulfill even if it could.

Those weren’t all of the recent additions to the former mimic’s mind-bogglingly long Skill List. There was also the matter of the monster’s Ranger Job, which had grown to Level 41 since Boxxy had used Winter’s Bite to murder a number of high-value targets, including a Ranker. This allowed the shapeshifter to pick up the Razor Volley Skill, which could be used to put a bit of wind magic behind its shots. This allowed them to fly straight even in a cross-wind and significantly increased their piercing power. It could only be activated once every ten minutes and would only work on the next five to ten shots based on Level, but had the potential to be devastating. Especially when combined with the right arrows and/or Martial Arts. It had acquired some of those, as well. The Ranger’s Marksman Skill had hit Level 9, allowing the use of Tornado Shot. This fired an elementally-charged arrow which, upon striking a target, would create a miniature whirlwind capable of throwing people and monsters into the air. The stolen Path of the Dragon Skill, on the other hand, had given knowledge of two staff techniques. These were Rising Claw, a vertical upward strike that had a bonus towards disarming the opponent’s melee weapon, and Tail Sweep, a lightning-fast circular trip attack.

All things considered, Boxxy’s murderous tour of the Empire had proven to be immensely successful, just not in the way it originally envisioned.

Having finally tapped into Cadaver Absorption’s potential had allowed it to grow significantly more powerful than when it left Azurvale. However, it time and again reminded itself not to get too cocky, as it had still made a good deal of mistakes. It had tripped the guild master’s alarms and let Nora slip away, which were painfully obvious signs that it was still sorely lacking in experience.

And much as the late Milo Faehorn liked to say, experience was something that no amount of Levels or Attributes could make up for… though he’d probably think different if he saw Boxxy’s current Status.

[General Information]

Boxxy T. Morningwood

Creeper (Hylt), 10 months old

Member of Hidden Arrow

Level 36.11 Doppelganger

Level 50.00 Mimic (MAX)

Level 5.00 Cat (MAX)

Level 66.53 Warlock

Level 23.02 Artificer

Level 41.63 Ranger

Level 39.51 Blade Dancer

Level 25.00 Wizard (MAX)

7984/7984 HP (+31.9/sec)

6242/6242 MP (+9.6/sec)

[Attributes]

STR 924, DEX 892, AGI 850, END 1294, INT 1156, WIS 643, LCK 261, MNT 530, CHR 259, PER 377, FTH 59, AFF 118

[Doppelganger Skills]

Mirror Image – Lvl 8.74

Pheromone Control – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Broken Reflection – Lvl 5.12

Puppet Parasite – Lvl 7.20

Spirit Echo – Lvl 3.75

Hylt Metabolism – Lvl 5.62

[Mimic Skills]

Assassination – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Storage – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Cadaver Absorption – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Biomass – Lvl 14.31

Natural Armor – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Metal Mimicry – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Mend Flesh – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Adaptive Defense – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

[Cat Skills]

Feline Agility – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

[Warlock Skills]

Summon Familiar – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Power Overwhelming – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Demonology – Lvl 9.20

Crystallize Magic – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Chant Reduction – Lvl 8.97

Demonic Insight – Lvl 8.83

Despair Aura – Lvl 5.66

Soul Link – Lvl 7.28

Enslave Demon – Lvl 4.36

Graviton Manipulation – Lvl 5.43

Malefic Union – Lvl 3.22

[Artificer Skills]

Clockwork Expertise – Lvl 8.86

Explosives Handling – Lvl 7.88

Deconstruction – Lvl 5.21

Optics Expertise – Lvl 3.05

[Ranger Skills]

Tracking – Lvl 8.93

Marksman – Lvl 9.12

Whisper Wind – Lvl 7.91

Fleet Footed – Lvl 7.11

Hunter's Mark – Lvl 5.75

Eagle Eye – Lvl 5.23

Razor Volley – Lvl 2.51

[Blade Dancer Skills]

Hornet Style – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Adagio Variation – Lvl 8.62

Winterlich Waltz – Lvl 8.44

Evasion – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Rapid Riposte – Lvl 2.62

Flamenco de Fuego – Lvl 4.22

[Wizard Skills]

Arcane Stability – Lvl 3.54

Mana Shield – Lvl 2.41

Residual Feedback – Lvl 3.25

Disruptive Barrage – Lvl 2.15

[Hero Skills]

Chaotic Disposition – Lvl 1.00 (MAX)

Agent of Chaos – Lvl 1.00 (MAX)

Essence Concealment – Lvl 1.00 (MAX)

Vengeance – Lvl 1.00 (MAX)

Eyes of the Dead God – Lvl 1.00 (MAX)

[Martial Skills]

Sword Mastery – Lvl 15.00 (MAX)

Projectile Mastery – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Dagger Mastery – Lvl 11.04

Shield Mastery – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Staff Mastery – Lvl 6.50

Bow Mastery – Lvl 13.81

Axe Mastery – Lvl 6.19

[Caster Skills]

Ruin Mastery – Lvl 17.22

Domination Mastery – Lvl 11.24

Primal Mastery – Lvl 6.23

Basic Mastery – Lvl 2.14

Arcane Mastery – Lvl 3.66

[Other Skills]

Shapeshift – Lvl 14.09

Phytokinesis – Lvl 6.15

Acid Spray – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Divine Attunement – Lvl 4.10

Ruinous Reach – Lvl 5.89

Aerial Strikes – Lvl 3.96

Vile Blades – Lvl 2.53

Monocular Rage – Lvl 1.15

Dustoff – Lvl 1.83

Padded Skin – Lvl 3.90

Path of the Dragon – Lvl 3.03

Sense Danger – Lvl 2.62

Web Throw – Lvl 2.13

Alchemical Fortitude – Lvl 2.42

[Spells and Martial Arts]

Ruin Spells – Shadowbolt, Ebonfire, Frostbite, Dark Explosion, Shadowbind, Singularity, True Darkness, Massive Rejection, Reality Slash, Momentum Anomaly, Weightless Space

Domination Spells – Mass Panic, Delirium, Dark Infusion, Mind Blast, Hysteria, Mind Control

Basic Spells – Firebolt, Icebolt, Water Slicer, Air Hammer, Lightning Bolt Arcane Spells – Flame Jet, Frost Mine, Spark Blast, Earth Spike, Stabbing Rain, Flight

Other Spells – Implosion, Transfamiliar, Demonate Marksman Arts – Power Shot, Guided Arrow, Multishot, Blast Arrow, Shrapnel Shot, Pinning Shot, Snipe, Chain Shot, Tornado Shot Path of the Dragon Arts – Rising Claw, Tail Sweep

[Perk List]

Arcane Assassin

Monster Magic

Grand Theft Arcana (2)

Collateral Damage

Butcher of Humanity

Rare Golem Dismantler – Jade

Natural Enemy of Termites

Seeker of Redemption

Anti-centennial

Nature's Bounty

Hero Killer

Soulbound

Hero of Chaos

Usurper of Justice

Slayer of Elfkind

Legendary Endurance

Usurper of Death

Rare Golem Dismantler – Aquamanarine

Legendary Intelligence

Part Two

The ground shook and falling snow swirled as the Forest Gate powered up.

The usual line of waiting departees was there, albeit with a lot more shivering, sneezing, and snot than any other time of year. This was perfectly natural given the biting cold that swept over the gloomy plaza. Even if Azurvale’s hylt tree canopy absorbed much of the otherwise heavy snowfall, the titanic trees could not stymie the breath of winter that blew in from the north. Thankfully, the frigid weather had no adverse effect on the ancient mass-transit device. The Forest Gate successfully conjured a portal linking it to its counterpart near the border. The crowd of bundled-up travelers gingerly walked through one side while a similar collection of people emerged from the other. The rattling of carts rose to deafening proportion, matched only by the wind whipping against the colorful tarps and fabrics protecting countless goods from the frigid onslaught.

Seen from afar, the scene could be mistaken for a river of mismatched cloth that filtered through the ring-shaped archway. Spotting a face in these shifting crowds would be nigh-impossible even if the people weren’t covering their heads and faces. Yet, the collective eyesight of all idle bystanders was unerringly drawn towards a certain individual. She had a relatively short, slender frame wrapped up in a heavy fur coat. A poofy hood and checkered scarf covered most of her head and face, but even the little that could be seen was enough for the people of Azurvale to identify her. There was only one person the commoners could think of that sported that chocolatey skin, golden eyes, and untamed crimson hair. They were so familiar that they didn’t even need to see her mouth to tell it was curved in a bright, life-affirming smile.

“It’s good to be back!” Keira shouted as she threw her arms up.

“Miss Morgana, where do you want me to drop off these?”

The catgirl looked over her shoulder at the dwarf that just called out to her.

He was part of a delivery company she hired to help transport a cartload of goods from the dwarven border all the way to the capital. The wagon, which was being pulled along by a stone goat, held the various spoils of her latest adventure. That considerable pile of loot that seemed far too much for
a girl so young, yet it all was undoubtedly hers. She even had the customs documents to prove it, though obtaining those cost her a fair bit of coin in taxes and fees. Matters of ownership aside, the delivery dwarf raised a good question.

“Crap, I didn’t think that far. *Sniffle* There’s too much stuff for me to take it home…”

She paused to wipe her runny nose on the back of her gloved hand.

“Yeah, the guild should do. You know where the C.C. is?”

“Sure do. Want me to head there?”

“Yes, please. Leave them with the Hidden Arrow office under my name and tell them I’ll sort the stuff out later. Oh, there’s also a crate marked

‘volatile’ with a note attached. Tell the receptionist to send that to miss Hilda. She’ll know the one.”

The package in question was the Firebrand whiskey that the elder Berserker had requested. Maintaining good relations with such a powerful fighter was pretty high on the priority list for the monster behind that smile, so it was more than happy to oblige. Sure, it spent a small fortune on this stuff, but it was a worthwhile investment.

“Understood, miss,” the dwarf nodded. “I take it you’re not coming with?”

“No, I got some, uh, urgent stuff I gotta do first.”

“What about the rest of my fee, then?”

“Right. Uh, just a second.”

She rummaged through her coat’s pockets for a few moments before pulling out a small satchel, which was tossed then caught with a metallic jingle.

The dwarf had a quick peek inside to confirm the amount, then nodded firmly.

“Aye, that’ll cover it. Have a nice day, miss Morgana.”

“You too, Mister Corkbutt!”

The man took a deep breath. Just how hard was it to remember his name?

Then again, the girl was too cute to get mad at, so he sucked it up and
directed the company golem to start moving. Keira watched the delivery dwarf merge with the rest of the cart traffic while she limbered up. After several good stretches and a few hops in place, she dropped to all fours, butt and tail sticking up in the air. Recognizing her infamous ‘take off’ position, the crowd in front immediately parted as she darted off through the streets at top speeds. She dashed between people, over stalls, and under carriages.

This seemingly reckless sprint used to invite only angry yells and startled curses, yet now elicited cheers and greetings. Pedestrians and peddlers alike seemed thrilled to see their resident Hero return after a long absence. Keira was so famous among the locals she was practically Azurvale’s mascot. Her

‘rush hour dash’ was equally well known. People didn’t need to see her tail or ears to immediately tell it was her charging through traffic and swinging around lamp posts and tree signs. They nevertheless got a good look at her defining feline features since her hood had slipped off when she initiated the quadruped sprint. Purely by accident, of course.

“Welcome back, miss Morgana!” shouted a kebab vendor.

“Yaaay! Keira’s back!” called out a boy playing in the snow.

“Watch the ice, kiddo!” yelled a beefy-looking adventurer as he passed by.

“Never thought I’d miss someone vaulting over my fence until now…”

grumbled an innkeeper.

The random cheers and greetings she received steadily became more familiar and casual as she approached the house of one Rowana Slyth. This was the catgirl’s home neighborhood, so it was only natural she’d be especially popular around here. Keira excitedly looked up at the tree towards her house, and, as such, failed to notice a freshly frozen puddle on the ground. Her hand slipped on it, making her fall on and flip over her shoulder before crashing magnificently into a nearby wall, leaving her upside-down with her feet and tail in the air. The impact also shook some loose snow from the tiled roof, which plopped straight onto her face as if it had a grudge.

After picking herself up and dusting off, the red-faced beastkin continued on her way at a brisk pace while onlookers held in their laughter. Seeing a young girl have an adorably clumsy yet ultimately harmless tumble was definitely a crowd pleaser. Boxxy would indulge in such ‘fan service’ on
occasion, but this wasn’t one of those. The slip and fall were a genuine accident. This was the shapeshifter’s first taste of real winter as Keira, so it had underestimated the slipperiness of hard-packed snow that had turned to ice. It played it off well enough, but the monster groaned inwardly that it could really do without any more surprises for a while. Boxxy brushed the incident off and had its ‘game face’ back on by the time it reached Rowana’s home and stood in front of the door. In typical Keira fashion, the girl flung the door open with a light kick while loudly declaring her return.

“Honey! I’m hooooome!”

It would appear Boxxy’s earlier wish had failed to come true, as a surprise was waiting for it inside. The familiar, silver-haired elven beauty was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the single-room hovel’s only occupant was a strange, dark-haired beastkin boy. The furry ears poking up from his scalp were distinctly canine, as was the bushy tail draped over his knees. He had been sitting at Rowana’s desk pouring over a thick tome of some sort when the catgirl barged in, and the two of them were now staring right into each other’s eyes. Keira lunged at the stranger in the next instant, dropping the rucksack she was carrying while pulling out a mithril dagger from under her coat.

“Woah!”

The boy let out a startled yelp at the sudden motion, but the mid-Level Ranger was too quick for him and tackled him off his chair before he could make a move. Keira pinned him to the floor and put her shiny knife to his throat, causing the poor lad to squeal in fear with tears welling up in his bright blue eyes.

“Who are you?!” she growled while looming over him. “Where’s Rowie?!”

However, the intruder could only muster gasps and fragmented sounds, as he was unsure how to deal with this sudden outburst of violence. Some unseen force interpreted his awkward flailing and stammering as a form of resistance, which prompted a series of very informative notifications.

[Clash of Fate has been invoked!]

[The Hero of Chaos will now face the Hero of Magic on the field of battle!]

[None may interfere in this righteous contest!]

[May destiny smile upon the victor!]

“…”

The two beastkin stared at each other in total silence as the revelation began to sink in. In the heat of the moment, Keira ended up pressing her dagger against the stranger’s throat hard enough to draw blood. Boxxy wasn’t sure what was going on, but the monster’s ‘kill or be killed’ mentality had come to the forefront and was influencing the actions of its Facade. Given how low this unknown Hero’s HP was, a single, full-powered slash would be more than enough to decapitate him on the spot and net the power-hungry monster another God-given Skill.

Keira then felt a warm, damp sensation spreading over her leg. She glanced down to find that the stranger had wet himself out of fear. That pathetic reaction snapped the shapeshifter out of its murderous intent, allowing it to realize this was a horrible idea in the long run. Its public persona could not be caught killing other Heroes in cold blood. And that Clash of Fate announcement? It would have been broadcast to everyone in the city. This was neither the time nor place. The catgirl rose to her feet, dragging the mumbling buffoon she was accosting up along with her, then slammed him face-first against the wall while still holding him at knifepoint.

“I’m going to ask you only one more time. Where. Is. Rowana?!”

“Sh-sh-sh-sh-she’s out shopping!” he managed to yell out. “Something about a special lunch! She insisted!”

“And what about you? What are you doing here?!”

“I’m a guest! A guest! Honest! Look, my bag is over there! You’ll find a letter from Lady Imiryl in it! She’s one of my teachers and the one who invited me!”

The catgirl let go of the boy and slowly moved for his bag while keeping her blade trained on him. She reached in and pulled out a fancy-looking parchment. She unrolled it with one hand and gave it a skim. It definitely bore Imiryl’s personal seal and was addressed to Nao Shoki. That strange name matched the one hovering over the stranger’s head, visible only to the creature with Mortimer’s borrowed Skill.

“Okay, say I believe you,” she put down the document, blade still at the ready. “How do we undo this Clash thing? I’m still new to Hero stuff, so I
have no idea.”

“Just lower your weapon and cease hostilities! It should go away if we give it some time!”

Keira warily did as instructed, and the two beastkin stared at each other tensely for about a minute before the man’s words were proven true.

[Clash of Fate has been rescinded!]

[The Hero of Chaos has made peace with the Hero of Magic!]

“Oh, thank Lunar,” he exclaimed as he slumped down to the ground.

“Yeah… Uh… I guess I should apologize for that…”

“N-n-no, it’s fine. You were only protecting your home against a suspicious individual. I can hardly blame you for being on edge, especially after what you went through.”

“… What I went through? What’s that supposed to mean?!” she raised her blade once more.

“Woah, woah, woah!” exclaimed the lad, throwing his hands up. “Look, I mean you no harm. I’m here to help, actually! After I came here at lady Imiryl’s request, I was told by a very kind Paladin named Lichter that you’ve had some… recent troubles.”

“Define ‘troubles,’” she snarled, murderous intent rising.

“Uhm! I swear I don’t know much!” he answered quickly in a panic. “I was just told you were kidnapped and woke up with a weird thing in your back!

I know a lot about stuff, so they asked me to take a look at it! Strictly confidential, of course!”

“Ah… Oh… Oh my God!” exclaimed Keira as what she had done finally sank in. “You’re to help me and I pulled a knife on you! Oh, shit! I cut you!

You’re bleeding! Are you okay?!”

“I’m- I’m fine! Just a scratch. Barely lost any HP.”

The catgirl glanced around the house, specifically at the blood and urine stains on the floor.

“Quick, we need to clean this up before-”

“Keeiraaaaa!”

The sound of an angry Rowana came in through the still-open door.

“Damnit, Keira!” she shouted when she saw the mess. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back for an eternity, and when you finally show up, you try to assault our guest! Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… Honey, I’m home?” the catgirl smiled awkwardly.

“Wha-?! That’s not-! You can’t just-! Why did-?!”

The elf’s shoulders dropped, followed by her giving off a long, tired sigh.

Once she calmed down a bit, she walked over to her girlfriend and gave her a rather forceful hug.

“Welcome back, sweetie,” she whispered softly.

After a bit of cleaning up, a change of clothes, a good deal of apologizing, and a pleasant chat with some heavily armed guards that had arrived at the scene, the three of them finally managed to clear up all misunderstandings.

They then sat around the dining table for a civil conversation over a nice cup of Rowana’s special blend of calming tea.

“Again, I’m really sorry for what I did,” the catgirl apologized once more.

“I just, I didn’t see Rowie, and there was a stranger, and-”

“It’s alright, miss Morgana. Like I said, I completely understand. Though, I must say, your timing was rather exquisite.”

Apparently, even though he had been in town for a few days now, the Hero of Magic known as Nao Shoki had only arrived at Rowana’s abode shortly before Keira did. After introducing himself to the mistress of the house and explaining his purpose, she invited him in. She then insisted she prepare a special meal to welcome him to Azurvale, which was why she left him to watch the house while she left to procure ingredients. Long story short, if Keira had come back from her month-long trip just fifteen minutes sooner or later, none of this would’ve happened.

“Ugh, yeah. It’s a Hero of Chaos thing,” the redhead groaned. “I always end up in freaky situations. It’s kinda my thing.”

“Sounds troublesome.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Rowana forced a smile.

“You get used to it, though,” the catgirl shrugged. “Mostly.”

“I can only imagine. Nevertheless, I would appreciate if you refrained from grabbing me like that again,” pleaded the visitor. “I’m… not very good at dealing with women. Especially violent ones…”

“Is that why you freaked out like that?”

He answered Keira with a sheepish nod.

“Wow, okay. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look or act like a Hero at all.”

Upon closer inspection, Nao’s short and spiky hair was not uniform in color, but made up of both light and dark streaks of grey. The odd coloration was also present in his bushy tail and pointy ears. Combined with his unnaturally bright blue eyes, it gave off the impression of a mountain-dwelling timber wolf. Or, at least it would have, if not for his incredibly youthful face, soft voice, and overall meek demeanor. He was more pup than predator.

The rest of him was also quite non-threatening and distinctly un-manly. He was only a few centimeters taller than Keira, though he appeared shorter since he was constantly hunched over. He wore a dark blue robe with a bright yellow trim that wrapped snugly around his slim arms and torso, with a slit in the back to let his tail dangle freely. The clearly high-class garment’s lower end obscured his legs aside from his leather sandals which exposed his bare, clawed toes. He also had, for whatever reason, three whole belts hanging off his waist. Each was studded with a series of tiny precious stones and all of them seemed quite useless from a practical standpoint.

“Hahaha, I get that a lot,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “You, on the other hand, are just as terrifying as I thought you would be.”

“Terrifying?!” she exclaimed while leaning forwards. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Eep!”

“Keira. You’re upsetting our guest,” Rowana said, her voice stern.

“S-sorry, Rowie, but he just called me terrifying! I’m not all that scary! …

Am I?”

“F-f-forgive me, miss Morgana,” stammered Nao, “but I just heard a rather… colorful collection of nicknames on my way to Azurvale. They may have influenced my, uh, preconceptions…”

“Colorful? Like what?” inquired the catgirl.

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“I promise.”

“Hammer Breaker. Hero Killer. The Mad Cat. The Blood-soaked Jester.

Herald of Armageddon. And those are the more, erm, flattering ones.”

“Egads!” Rowana gasped. “My dear Keira is the kindest person I know!

Who would dare spread such vile filth?!”

“The shitheads over in the Empire I would imagine,” said the ‘kind person’

with a scowl. “Bunch of sore losers can’t cope with the fact their poster-child got his ass handed to him by a girl.”

“W-well, you can’t put all the blame on propaganda,” muttered Nao. “You were super intense when you, uh… Ahem! ‘Greeted’ me earlier.”

“Look, I’ve been through a lot, okay,” she argued. “Everyone gets twitchy when they’re stressed out. And my trip was pretty damn stressful.”

This statement rang far truer than the standard deluge of dishonesty that normally spilled out of Keira’s mouth. Even if Boxxy enjoyed certain parts of its latest adventure and obtained significant profits and benefits, it had been a mentally and physically draining endeavor. The way it failed to ‘seal the deal’ with Nora Cromwell was especially bothersome. Then there was the fact that it failed to capture any dungeon cores, though not for a lack of trying. The ‘hearts’ of the places it visited were either inaccessible or outright missing because someone else had beaten it to the punch. Probably the Spymaster’s lackeys, if it had to hazard a guess. It therefore had to take the long way home, where the Foundation was no doubt waiting for it.

After all that, the shapeshifter was looking forward to laying low and relaxing for the foreseeable future, at least until this soulstone business was resolved.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Rowana reassured Keira with a smile. “A hot meal and a hotter bath will help you forget those troubles. Did you manage to find your friend?”

“Sort of. Fizzy’s busy doing Julian’s work, so it’ll be a while before she can come back. I would’ve honestly come back sooner, but- Oh! Right! Rowie, I have some great news!”

The catgirl suddenly perked up, taking the elf’s hands in her own.

“What? What is it?”

“The thing in my back – we don’t need to worry about it! We just need to be patient and wait for it to go away on its own!”

“Really? You’re certain?!”

“Yes! One hundred million percent sure!”

While an exaggeration, the monster had definitely confirmed Reggie’s intel on the matter while it dismantled the Order of the Black Wand.

“Oh, thank the Gods!”

The two shared another long hug as a few tears of happiness fell out of Rowana’s emerald green eyes and rolled down her pink cheeks. She tried to be strong for her girlfriend’s sake, but it was only natural she’d worry about her lover when she suddenly came home with a tumorous jewel in her back.

“Uhm… S-sorry to interrupt your moment,” butted in Nao, “but do you mind if I take a look at that anyway? It’s the main reason I’m here.”

The two lovebirds broke up their embrace and Keira gave Rowana an apprehensive look.

“It’s fine, isn’t it? Who best to make absolutely sure you’ll be fine than your fellow Hero.”

“No offense, Rowie, but the last ‘fellow Hero’ I met tried to kill me.”

“Come now, don’t be like that. This sweet boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I am not a boy!” shouted Nao in his first show of genuine anger. “I am twenty-fucking-five years old!”

He realized what he said and shrank back into his seat with a red face.

“S-s-sorry… I just… I really hate being called ‘boy.’ Or ‘darling.’ Or

‘cutie.’ Or ‘brat.’ Or anything of the like. It’s hard enough to get people to take me seriously as it is.”

It was a bit ironic, as those were exactly the sort of words one would use to describe the man. The complete and total absence of facial hair was especially damning, though his biggest problem was without a doubt his personality. The ‘shy but cute bookworm’ thing probably invited all manner of teasing, perhaps even bullying.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Keira. “Are you sure you’ll be fine, though? I don’t mind taking off my clothes for an examination, but you said you had a fear of women, didn’t you?”

“S-something like that, but I’ll be fine with you, miss Morgana. You’re more like a monster than a woman anyway,” he said with a light smile.

“Haha… hah… haaah... “

The catgirl splayed herself out across the table with a dry, humorless laugh.

“That’s right. I’m just a Herald of Armageddon, after all,” she mumbled in a dull monotone, her eyes unfocused. “Just a bad omen that destroys lives with its very presence, turning everything it touches to ash and cinders. The world would be better off if I crawled into a hole and disappeared forever…”

“Nao!” Rowana squealed. “You shouldn’t say such things! Do you have any idea how much Keira struggles with self-doubt every single day?!”

“I’m sorry! It was a bad joke! I didn’t mean it!”

After a bit more hamming it up under the pretense of ‘too much has been going on recently,’ Keira finally took off her coat and shirt, showing her back to the Hero of Magic. The crimson soulstone had already shrunk to a fraction of its original size and was currently no bigger than a palm print.

Nao reached for his bag and started pulling out a number of magic tools, including a pair of enchanted rimless spectacles, a mithril needle, and a magical magnifying glass. He began inspecting the soulstone, careful not to chip or scratch it with his various instruments. Boxxy was keeping a close
eye on his movements, ensuring he didn’t do anything weird that might endanger the soulstone’s integrity. Its life was still tethered to this thing, so it needed to protect it at all costs. It couldn’t help but be on edge even though there didn’t seem to be anything particularly dangerous in his bag.

On the upside, this was an opportunity to see if the Hero of Magic was indeed as smart as his title implied, so there was something to be gained by humoring him.

Thankfully, Boxxy’s vigilance proved unnecessary, as the youthful wolfkin concluded his examination after only a few minutes.

“Well, the bad news is I can’t say I know exactly what this is,” he said calmly, “but I can tell an alchemically created stone when I see one. The good news is that miss Morgana-”

“Please, call me Keira.”

“Uhm, alright. The good news is that Keira’s information was correct.

Whatever this thing is, it’s mostly inert by now. It should be absorbed into her body and then, uh, ‘expelled’ from it without further complications.”

“Wait, ‘expelled?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

Boxxy asked out of genuine concern, as neither Reggie nor the intelligence from the Order mentioned anything about that part.

“Ah, w-w-well, it’s when you, uh…”

“He means poop, sweetie,” Rowana bluntly stated.

“Yeah, that.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.”

That was a bit of a problem, as doppelgangers did not, in fact, poop. Not usually, anyway. They could produce excrement, they just didn’t need to.

Their bodies, much like those of mimics, were capable of completely breaking down anything they put into their mouths if given enough time.

Bone, meat, fruit, leather, glass, pebbles, wood – pretty much everything aside from metal and large stones was fair game. Should something truly indigestible find itself into their system, it would just be, for the lack of a better word, ‘spat out.’

Boxxy therefore decided to do like the city of Erosa and scheduled a forceful evacuation of its own.

“You can put your shirt back on, miss Mor- uh, Keira.”

The catgirl mumbled a ‘thanks’ as she quickly got dressed.

“I just feel bad so about this,” she winced at Nao. “It’s like you came all this way and nearly got stabbed for nothing.”

“Haha. Yes, well, Azurvale is indeed a long way from the Pearly Dunes, but I wouldn’t say the trip wasn’t worthwhile. I got to experience real snow, for one thing. Though, if I can be honest with you, I did have a secondary motive in coming here. You see, I heard tales of a Warlock that could command a demonic Overlord. One that you’re supposedly quite close to, Keira.”

When Nao heard the nickname ‘Herald of Armageddon,’ he naturally followed up by asking what such an ominous moniker could mean. That was how he found out about the events of Armageddon Day, which practically ended the Cataclysm Conflict between the Lodrak Empire and Ishigar Republic. Teresa’s chosen taken down by a newly revealed Hero was big news, so it was only natural it would spread to the continent’s far corners. What Lunar’s studious disciple wanted to know, however, was what exactly happened before that encounter.

“I see,” the redhead squinted suspiciously. “You want to meet Mr. S, do you?”

“If you’re referring to this ‘Sandman’ character, then yes, I would like to trade words with him.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I can’t make that happen. He gets in contact with me, not the other way around. Besides, he’s not exactly the, uh, sharing type. I haven’t even seen his face, so I doubt he’d be revealing his trade secrets to some random guy. Uh, no offense.”

“Oh… That’s a shame. I was hoping to borrow his insight regarding demonic beings for a project I’m working on.”

“Project? What project?”

“In all honesty, it’s not something that I expect would yield anything of value,” Nao admitted while scratching his cheek. “It’s just that, every now and then you hear tales of people being turned into demons, or vice-versa.

It’s extremely unlikely those stories are anything more than outlandish myths and legends, but I wish to separate the fiction from the facts.

Assuming there are any to be found, of course.”

“Why would you even look into something shady like that?”

“I just want to know, that’s all,” he said with a pure smile. “It is my mission in life to seek out and unearth the truth behind all those old tales, to unlock the secrets of magic lost to time. The Goddess of Magic and Learning saw I had the potential to learn and comprehend a great deal, so she chose to support my goals. Whether I will actually put my discoveries to use, well, I’ll leave that for my older, wiser self to decide.”

“Huh. You’re not as reckless as I thought,” Keira leaned back in her seat. “I was so sure the Hero of Magic would be looking for the ultimate way to flatten mountains or something.”

“Same here,” agreed Rowana with a nod.

“What?! Why would you ever think that?!”

“You are Imiryl’s student, right?” pointed out the catgirl.

“Yeah, the one that zapped an entire flock of birds out of the sky because they pooped on her?” chimed the elf.

“I’m her student as an Enchanter!” he protested. “I want to ward off disease, avert disaster, and prolong lifespans. My work aims to make life better, not end it faster!”

“Those aren’t so different,” Keira argued. “The world isn’t the kind of nice and fuzzy place that would spare someone just because they have a warm bed. We live with monsters that cannot be reasoned with and will not stop their destructive ways unless someone puts them down. If getting rid of them before they cause tragedy isn’t making lives better, then what is?”

“Look, I’m not an idiot. I will not belittle the adventurers and soldiers that keep people like me safe. I’m not going to argue that magic is a weapon.

The thing is, so are swords, axes, catapults and bows. We live in an age
where the average Level of both adventurers and their armaments are higher than they’ve ever been. However, the mystic arts can do so much more than slaughter beasts in some dank cave!”

“Like making entire cities disappear in a puff of flame and smoke? You’re right, there’s no way I’d be able to do that with just a bow and arrow.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Nao got heated. “If harnessed and used right, the energy we call mana has the potential to uplift our civilization! Yet, we’re too busy flinging it at people’s faces to fully explore that possibility! Any idiot can blow up a mountain, but how many can piece it back together?!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about putting things back together!” snapped back Keira. “I’ve seen things! I know what becomes of those who act ‘for the good of the people.’ The only thing your idiotic ambitions will accomplish is give some monster the means to harm others!”

“Oh, yes! I’m sure a troll will be able to do all sorts of damage with a bracelet that can, say, halt the advance of the otherwise incurable Paralyzing Rotflesh disease!?”

“No, you misunderstand. The monsters I’m referring to don’t live in the woods and bash things with clubs. I’m talking about the vile creatures that pat each other on the back as they send fathers, sons, and brothers to die so they can redraw some lines on a map! The kind that will take your noble intentions, twist them into a knot, and then shove them so far up your-!”

“That’s enough! Both of you calm down!” butted in Rowana, her tone stricter than ever. “Keira, sweetie, you’re tired and my sensitive nose does not appreciate the faint smell of urine on you. Our guest has had a rather eventful day himself. So, let’s avoid getting political so we can all get some rest, and we can get you into a nice, hot bath.”

“R-right. I’m sorry again, Nao. Certain topics just… agitate me.”

“So I’ve noticed. Then, if you’ll excuse me…”

Just as the still upset wolfkin was getting up to leave, Boxxy had a flash of brilliance.

“Wait, hold on. You said you wanted to unlock the secrets behind old, strange magic, right?”

The wolfkin stopped in his tracks and silently regarded her with a raised eyebrow for a few moments.

“Yes?”

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I think I have something you would want to look at.”

“Alright, but no promises.”

She stood up and walked over to the rucksack she brought with her. She reached in and, after discreetly accessing Storage, pulled out a certain pink square of a gem. She walked back to Nao and held it up for him to see. His curiosity piqued, he glanced at it from a few angles before holding out his hand. The redhead obliged the silent request and dropped the precious stone in his palm.

“Very interesting, indeed. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a gem quite like this.

What is it?”

“That’s what I want to know. It’s something that was entrusted to me, but I have no idea what it is, where it came from, or what it does. Or even why it was given to me in the first place.”

“I suppose it’s certainly mysterious, isn’t it? Might as well take a look-see.

Excuse me for a moment.”

Nao cupped his hands together, pressing the item between his palms.

“Identify. Appraise Item. Detect Enchant.”

Boxxy reclassified Nao Shoki inside its mind, increasing his threat level from ‘Probably Harmless’ to ‘Potentially Catastrophic.’ He had just used a trio of Scribe Skills, which implied he was capable of viewing Keira’s Status. That could not be allowed under any circumstances. The Essence Concealment Skill common among Heroes was ineffective against ‘divine eyes.’ While it was unclear whether being chosen by the Gods classified Nao’s peepers as such, it was probably a safe bet to assume he’d see Boxxy’s real Status if he ever Appraised the monster.

The wolf-boy-like man remained ignorant to the brewing danger just in front of him as he looked over the jewel in his hands.

“How strange,” he noted. “I’m not getting anything. It’s so utterly devoid of magic it’s like I’m trying to appraise a random rock.”

“Yeah, everybody else said the same,” claimed Keira. “Except Mr. S. He said it seemed to soak up mana or something.”

“An absorption property, eh? Hmm… Something like that could potentially interfere with an item’s analysis, but the absorption rate would need to be ridiculous.”

Considering it took an estimated 50,000 MP to fully charge this thing,

‘ridiculous’ was definitely an apt way to describe it.

“Do you mind if I borrow this for a few days so I can study it?” asked the wolfkin. “I’m afraid I don’t have the proper equipment on hand.”

“Well, okay. Just make sure to bring it back safely when you’re done. It’s the only memento I have left of my teacher, and I’m only entrusting it to you because you’re a Hero. If you think I was violent before, you wouldn’t want to see what I’d do if something happens to that. So, don’t do anything that both of us would regret!”

The threat may have simply been lip service, but the underlying message of

‘it’s your funeral if you don’t give it back’ was loud and clear.

“I, uh, I shall make extra sure to treat it with utmost care, then.”

That was a satisfactory response. Boxxy wanted to avoid an actual Clash of Fate if at all possible since that would, in all likelihood, make Keira’s reputation take a nosedive. The time with Bernard was fine since they were on opposing sides during a war, but society normally looked down upon Hero Killers – repeat offenders especially. However, if it was for the sake of that exquisite shiny, the negative publicity would probably be worth it. With that in mind, it decided to have Claws track the guy just to make sure nothing weird happened.

“Wait, is that the thing Faehorn left for you?” asked Rowana while squinting at the shiny thing. “Looks a lot… pinker from what I remember.”

Ah, crap.

Boxxy had forgotten that it lied to the elf about that inherited item and showed her a plain ruby in its stead. It did that to avoid any unwelcome
reactions, since the relationship between them was still somewhat fresh.

Things were different now, giving the shapeshifter an easy out. There were several ways to smooth things over when one partner had caught the other in a bare-faced lie, but one was clearly the best option in the long term.

“Yeah, I might have… shown you a different one back then.”

Which was to admit to it, then beg for forgiveness.

“You what? Why?! Didn’t you tell me there’d be no more secrets?!”

“I forgot, okay?! Back then I didn’t want to upset you by bringing in suspicious magical gems that may or may not blow up!”

“That thing can explode?!”

“I said it might! I don’t know!”

“And you had that in the house?!”

“This is exactly why I lied about it! It’s probably fine, but I knew you’d raise a fuss!”

“You-! … We’ll talk about this later. In private.”

Rowana was about to unleash a torrent of loud, full-hearted bitching, but stopped when she remembered they still had a guest. The person in question was barely containing a chuckle as he watched them quarrel. His reaction seemed innocent enough, but something about his attitude ticked off the elf even further.

“What? Does our relationship amuse you?” she said in a thoroughly un-amused tone.

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought you two seemed like an old married couple for a second.”

Nao didn’t know it yet, but he had stepped on a landmine. Hearing the ‘M-word’ did little to abate Rowana’s bad mood. Just the opposite, in fact.

Frankly speaking, she’d had enough of her own mother harping on about it without some random furball butting his head in. To be more precise, it was the fact that she couldn’t get married to her lover that really ticked her off.

She knew she shouldn’t be taking it out on a Hero, especially one who came here to help them, so she did her best not to fly off the handle at him.

“… I think you should leave now,” Keira whispered while Rowana visibly seethed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Realizing he had overstayed his welcome, Nao immediately turned to leave.

As he was walking out the front door, however, there was a rather violent gust of wind that knocked him over, making him drop the gem in his hand as he fell backwards. It drew a wonderful arc through the air, landing softly on Keira’s crimson hair.

“Ah… terribly sorry about that,” he said as he picked himself up. “I’ll just put that in my bag for safe keeping.”

With the item once more securely in his possession, he finally left the house. Rowana and Keira glared at each other for a few moments, but neither was keen to resume the argument. Not yet, anyway. The elf went downstairs to draw a bath while the redhead finished off her tea. Once her cup was empty she went over to the bed and began undressing while the muffled sound of running water came up through the floorboards. Boxxy wondered, was this place always this quiet? It then realized something was missing from this humble abode. Something small, hyperactive, incredibly lucky, and enviably square-shaped.

“Rowie!?” Keira shouted. “Where’s Minic!?”

“Damn! I forgot to feed it this morning!” the elf yelled from the cellar.

“Must have gone out to find lunch! Now it’ll come back all filthy and covered in sewage again!”

On cue, the house mimic burst through the tiny flap in the front door. It ran up to Keira’s feet and bounced around excitedly while rapidly yipping. The catgirl bent over, picked it up, and put it on her bare lap. She smiled sweetly, then proceeded to stroke its smooth surface. Especially the bright red gem that stood in the middle of its lid. Boxxy wasn’t surprised to see its older-yet-smaller ‘sibling’ was alive and well, though it was glad to see the little guy again. Rowana walked up from the basement at that point, feeling her heart melt a bit at the sweet scene.

“C’mon, love. Water’s ready,” she called out after a few moments.

“I can take Minic with me, right?”

“I don’t know. It might get in the way with both of us in there.”

“You’re coming in with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” the elf crossed her arms.

“Aren’t you still mad about the gem thing?”

“Quite a bit, yes. And you’re going to make it up to me by washing my back, cuddling up with me, then doing that thing you do with your tongue until I’m satisfied.”

“Well! When you put it like that, perhaps I should get you mad more often.”

“Hack! Hack!”

Keira’s attempt at flirting was rudely interrupted when Minic started coughing and heaving. It managed to dislodge a foreign object from its throat a few moments later and spat it out into the catgirl’s cleavage. She reflexively grasped the choking hazard, and both her and Rowana were surprised to find it was a certain square-cut pink gem.

“Uh, Keira? Is that what I think it is?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But how did-”

“Wait for it.”

“…”

*BAM BAM BAM*

“Excuse me in there! It’s urgent!”

There was a panicked banging at the door, followed by Nao’s voice. The girls traded some curious glances before Rowana trotted over and poked her head through the entrance.

“Yes? What is it, Nao?”

“I’m terribly sorry about this, but I lost the heirloom miss Morgana gave me!” he explained, his words firing off faster than a lightning elemental. “I know you just gave it to me five minutes ago, but it fell out of my bag when I slipped on some ice! A weird box-creature snatched it off the ground
before I could pick it up and disappeared into a snowbank! Again, I’m really sorry, but I need miss Morgana and her Ranger Skills to help me track it down!”

The elf looked back at her lover, and the two shared a quick laugh. The catgirl quickly redressed then the two introduced Minic to Nao and explained not to worry, though the animate box seemed to dislike the wolfkin for some reason. Rowana returned the item back to the flabbergasted scholar while he apologized a dozen times over. Nao then somewhat reluctantly placed the bizarre stone in his Item Box, a lesser version of Boxxy’s Storage Skill. He didn’t want to do this initially because, in his own words, ‘you never know when these mystery trinkets will react badly to spatial magic.’ But, after a solid amount of urging from Keira, he finally agreed and went on his way.

Once the bumbling Hero was gone for good, the two women were finally able to share a romantic, extremely passionate bath. They spent the rest of the afternoon indoors as Boxxy regaled its Doppelganger XP source with stories of made up adventure while they snuggled on the bed with Minic.

They then went out for a brief walk, had a nice dinner, and followed up with another round of make-up sex before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Boxxy had already slept soundly prior to organizing Keira’s official return to Azurvale, but it still felt drained from all the needless effort it put into Mortimer’s Quest. Using enormous amounts of magic was quite taxing on the body, and the hundreds of Transfamiliar hops were no exception.

Admittedly, sharing a bed with a piece of convenient meat and a purring mini-box wasn’t its ideal sleeping arrangement, but it still found itself dozing off in the familiar atmosphere. When it woke up the next morning, it found something waiting for it on top of the old night stand on its side of the bed.

It was an impossibly familiar pink gem that betrayed not even a hint as to how it got there.

Part Three

Boxxy, as Keira, continued to lay in bed with Rowana’s hands wrapped around the redhead. The shapeshifter stared so hard at the pink gem on the nightstand that one might think the not-catgirl was trying to smash it with her glare. Its golden irises could see what its magical sonar could not. That proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the object was the very same article as the one it had sent away for study last night. Its authenticity was not in question. The real issue was the matter of how, exactly, it got here.

Luckily for Boxxy, it knew just who to ask.

“Claws, where’s Nao?” it telepathically reached out.

The shapeshifter had sent its pet assassin to keep a close eye on the Hero of Magic the day before. It initially didn’t want to do that since Nao might detect the spider-demon, what with her being made up of mana and him being a Hero with unknown Skills. However, the shapeshifter rapidly changed its mind after that Minic incident. It showed that Nao Shoki was even less alert than he appeared, though at least his intentions appeared legitimate. He didn’t seem stupid enough to steal another Hero’s treasure, but his carelessness was a problem.

“Good morning, master,” Drea replied. “He’s currently in the Central Consortium building.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“What about last night?”

“He spent most of it up and about until he collapsed on his desk about three hours ago. The way he struggled but failed to keep his eyes open was quite adorable.”

“So, he’s been there since yesterday?”

“Yes, Master.”

“What about you? Where are you right now?”

“I’m hiding on a rooftop with a clear view of the magical laboratory he’s in.”

“Then you don’t know exactly what he’s been up to?”

“No, master. I can track his position through the windows, but the place is rigged with surveillance magic. I can’t get closer without risk of raising an alarm.”

The monster groaned reflexively, making the slumbering elf clinging to it shift in her sleep. It should have known those damnable security measures would be there, just like the Order’s guild office. The worst part was that Claws couldn’t break the enchantments with Counterspell. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. It was certainly within her ability to do so, but whatever security personnel was monitoring the area would notice. It’d be no different from tripping the alarm, and doing so would go against her orders.

While Claws was instructed to keep a close eye on Nao, she was to take every possible precaution to avoid detection, be it by the Hero or someone else. The arachnid demon had centuries’ worth of experience when it came to sneaking about and circumventing security measures. Therefore, if she, in her honest judgement, deemed it too risky to approach her target, then her master would be a fool to say otherwise.

Still, that did not answer the shapeshifter’s most pressing concern.

“What about the shiny I gave him? Can you see it right now?”

“No, master.”

“Do you have any idea where it is?”

“Yes, Master. I saw him carry it around and use a bunch of tools and wands on the thing. The last thing he did was stick it inside a rune-inscribed cylinder that he placed on his desk. He kept staring at it as if he was waiting for something, but the cutie dozed off before it happened.”

“Nothing weird happened after that?”

“Hmm… I don’t know if it qualifies as weird, but the little guy accidentally knocked the container off his desk while he was asleep.”

“So… you can’t see the thing that should have my shiny?”

“Er, no? But it should still be in there. It had a screw-on lid and the pup didn’t get a single visitor since he entered that room, so I don’t see where it could’ve gone.”

Well, so much for that idea. It would appear the best way to figure this out was the direct approach.

“Continue monitoring him and notify me if he leaves the room. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

“Ehehe! With pleasure!”

Something about that overtly enthusiastic response struck the shapeshifter as a bit odd. In fact, thinking back on its conversation, the demon’s attitude towards the one she was stalking was a bit worrisome to say the least.

“Say, Claws? I can’t help but notice your choice of language.”

“What do you mean, Master?”

“Why do you keep calling the man things like ‘adorable’ or ‘darling?’”

“W-w-well, it just sort of slipped out. He’s so cute that I can’t help but want to eat him right up!”

Of course, with Claws being Claws, this intention was very much literal.

Allowing that was clearly a terrible idea. Bound demons were considered extensions of their summoner’s Status, so there was no doubt in the shapeshifter’s mind that a Clash of Fate would trigger if Claws were to assault him. Besides, it would be preferable if Keira and Nao could forge a cooperative relationship, as the wolfkin could prove to be a valuable resource in the long run.

“But Master’s w-w-way better!” added the webstalker in a hurry. “There’s no way that brat and his pinchable cheeks could measure up to Keira’s world-class beauty!”

“Who cares? Just keep your appetite under control and your jaws away from him,” demanded Boxxy. “The last thing I need is for you to

‘accidentally’ eat him like you did that famous Bard during the war.”

“… Understood, Master,” Drea replied with obvious disappointment.

That potential disaster handled, Keira reached out and grabbed hold of the shiny she had been staring at the entire time. Feeling her lover shuffle around also roused Rowana from her slumber.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said with a yawn while snuggling against the catgirl.

“Hey, Rowie.”

“You getting up?”

“Mhm.”

“Why, though? Still early, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but we got a little situation.”

The elf blinked the sleep away from her eyes while confusedly staring at the object in Keira’s hand. She jolted awake when she finally recognized it, and the answer her brain came up with to the very obvious question of ‘How did that get here?’ filled her with dread.

“Did-! Did that guy from yesterday sneak in here last night?!”

“Calm down, Rowie. You know full well either me or Minic would’ve noticed if someone tried to do that.”

“Then how in the world-?!”

Rowana’s worries came to a grinding halt mid-sentence when she noticed the ‘take a guess’ look on Keira’s face.

“Oh, right. Hero of Chaos,” she exhaled as she rubbed her face. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Nao and demand an explanation.”

“What, right now? It’s not even dawn!”

“It would be if it wasn’t winter. I’m already up, so I might as well make sure nothing shady is going on. Better safe than sorry and all that.”

“I guess. Can I at least whip you up some breakfast before you go?”

“That’s okay, I’m still full from last night,” said Keira as she kissed Rowana’s forehead. “Just get some rest, I’ll try and be back as soon as I
can.”

After that tiny bit of persuading, the catgirl got dressed in her winter coat and stepped out of the house. Nao was still fast asleep by the time she made it to the Central Consortium and arrived in front of the double doors to the lab he had borrowed. Unfortunately, there seemed to be something of a bodyguard in front. A wolf-eared male beastkin in an unfamiliar, white-colored military uniform, to be precise. He had brown skin just like Keira and Nao, though his eyes, tail, and braided hair were pitch black. He looked to be quite a bit older than the Hero of Magic and significantly more muscular, too. He was either a Berserker or Warrior judging by broad build.

He didn’t appear armed at first glance, but Boxxy’s MLG revealed he had dozens of bladed weapons of varying lengths on his person, mostly beneath his long coat.

“Hold it right there, pussy-feet,” he snarled as he stood in Keira’s way.

“This area’s off limits, so scram!”

“Excuse me?!”

It wasn’t like the catgirl to raise her voice like that, but she had good reason. This was probably the first time anyone in Azurvale had taken such an outwardly rude tone with her, even before she became something of a war hero. Boxxy felt quite confident in Keira’s adorable and approachable appearance, so this burst of unwarranted hostility indirectly injured its pride. It didn’t need to fake being pissed off.

“What, are those ears just for decoration? I said beat it!”

“Mister, you don’t know who you’re messing with,” the redhead snarled.

“If you did, you’d get out of my way.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’re the Emperor himself. You ain’t getting in here, ya runt.”

“I’ll put this in a way that you can understand, dog breath,” she pointed a finger at him. “You will let me pass. Whether its voluntarily or by force is up to you.”

“You’re gonna have to try a lot harder if you wanna scare me, ya twerp.

And, just so you know, you lay a finger on me, and you’re losing that arm.”

The door behind the he-beast suddenly opened to reveal the one he was supposedly protecting. Nao had woken up from the very vocal arguing and had come out to see what all the fuss was about, which was more or less what his visitor had been aiming for.

“For pity’s sake, Kuro, I said I needed quiet,” grumbled the Hero of Magic while he scratched his scalp out of annoyance. “Oh! Miss Mor- Ahem!

Keira! Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

“Wait, you actually know this cheeky brat, Nao?” asked his bodyguard.

“Yes, I do. She’s… a friend,” he said as he turned back towards the catgirl.

“Please, come in so we can talk in private.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” replied Keira as she walked past the much taller wolf-man. “Actually, I could really use a cup of hot black tea to wake me up, so could your lackey get one for me?”

“Lackey?! Who do you-?!”

“Kuro,” butted in Nao, interrupting him. “Do as she says and get one for me, too. And for yourself, while you’re at it.”

“You’re serious?”

“This country has some amazing tea. The one I had yesterday was quite delicious. It’ll do you and that temper of yours some good.”

“I dunno. I don’t feel right leaving you alone with a stranger. Not after that psycho Hero of Chaos cut you yesterday.”

“Psycho?!” squealed Keira.

“Oh, I get it!” growled Kuro. “You’re the one, aren’t you?!”

“Guys, guys, guys!” shouted Nao. “It’s way too early for this, so let’s dial it down. Keira, Kuro here is my sworn brother. We look out for each other, that’s what we do. And Kuro, I assure you, miss Morgana is no psycho. I already explained that Clash business was a misunderstanding. Like it or not, she’s a Hero like me, so I would appreciate it if you treated her with the same respect.”

“Respect has to be earned.”

“Just get the blasted tea, will you?!” insisted Nao in another uncharacteristic show of anger.

“Fine! Fine. If you wanna get cut by psycho-pussy again then that’s on you.”

The two shorter beastkin walked into the lab and shut the door behind, though not before Kuro exchanged a few extra spiteful glances with Keira.

“For a guy who hates violence you sure do keep strange company,” stated the catgirl once the two of them were alone. “That one’s a Berserker, isn’t he?”

“Why, yes, he is. How could you tell?”

“I’ve just seen that sort of hot-headed intensity before.” The catgirl leaned in a bit and whispered, “Miss Hilda is way scarier than that mutt.”

“Oh. I, uh, I see. Still, even if he’s a bit of an asshole, Kuro’s heart is in the right place, so please don’t hold a grudge over his words.”

“Fine. I’ll let it go… even though he started it,” she grumbled.

“Haha, I appreciate your consideration. Come, have a seat.”

The Consortium laboratory was rather messy to say the least. The alchemical mixing stations as well as the enchanting table were in complete disarray and there was just as much loose paper on the floor as there was on the nearby desk. One of the walls had a huge blackboard nailed to it, with all sorts of sigils, symbols and equations written in absurdly neat handwriting. A bunch of large, peculiar devices with globes, rods, and pylons sticking out could be seen lining the other walls, each giving off a sporadic hum or click to signify they were active. There wasn’t much else in terms of available furniture, so Keira and Nao had to sit at an empty desk next to each other.

“So, huuuaah,” the wolfkin yawned, “what brings you here this early?”

“This.”

The redhead pulled out the enigmatic gem and placed it on the desk.

“I woke up to find it next to my bed. Care to explain how that happened?”

Nao blinked at the pink gemstone a few times before he glanced towards the workstation he’d dozed off at. The forearm-sized cylinder that Drea mentioned was on the ground, though its cap had somehow fallen off next to a drain in the ground. The opening was probably intended to soak up any questionable alchemical mixtures that spilled on the floor. However, the gaps in its tiny grate were just wide enough to let the relatively slim gem slip through it if it fell just right. From there, it found its way through the sewage system until it somehow ended up on Keira’s nightstand. After piecing together the likely yet highly improbable chain of events, the wolfkin scholar took this development as evidence that more or less proved one of his theories.

“… Ah, I see. So it’s like that after all.”

“Like what?” asked Keira.

“Probability manipulation of the highest order. That trinket of yours possesses the uncanny ability to make things happen seemingly by accident, but always with a singular purpose. Just yesterday there were four instances when it very nearly escaped the lab the instant I took my eyes off it. I tried sticking it in a demanatizing unit to drain any residual magical charge, but that obviously did nothing.”

“Purpose? Escape? You make it sound like this thing’s alive.”

“Is it really that strange?” countered the wolfkin. “If lumps of rock and piles of metal can move around by their own free will, what’s to say the odd mystical artifact can’t do the same? Granted, sentient equipment is…

exceedingly rare… and often cursed… But! It does exist. And that little guy? If I were a betting man, I’d wager he hates being separated from you.”

“So, what? It’ll always come back to me?”

“Based on my observations and given the fact that neither of us really knows how it returned to your possession, I’d say that seems the most likely conclusion.”

“Huh… Mind if I put that to the test?”

“Knock yourself out, but don’t blame me if something goes wrong.”

Keira stood up and walked to the window. She opened it and, after silently ordering Claws to get ready for a catch, tossed the gemstone out into the cold air with all her might. It unerringly flew towards the camouflaged webstalker on the nearby rooftop for all of six meters before things got weird. It collided in midair with a clump of snow falling from the branches high above – one of the hazards of living under an enormous tree during winter. This knocked the gem off-course and prevented it from falling into Drea’s waiting clutches. Keira’s trained eyesight tracked the bright pink jewel as it bounced off an awning and fell into the street below, landing inside the coat collar of a passing pedestrian. Feeling something cold and hard against his neck, the man panicked and began flailing about. He managed to fling the gemstone at a passing adventurer, who ended up deflecting the small object with his hand on reflex, knocking it upwards.

The valuable item then drew a graceful arc through the air before coming to a stop in Keira’s untamed hair, its dampened surface making it stick to her crimson locks like glue.

“Wow! That was cool!” she exclaimed.

“‘Cool’ is an understatement, miss Morgana,” Nao smiled. “It’s extraordinary. I’ve never seen probability manipulation this powerful. Same with the mana absorption rate. It’s so strong that none of the tools here can analyze the thing since it keeps soaking up all their magic. See that silver-plated bucket over there in the corner?”

The catgirl walked to the vessel in question and peered into it to see a clear, odorless liquid.

“It’s full of… water?”

“That used to be mana potion until I dunked the gem in there for a few seconds.”

“That’s just ridiculous. Whoever heard of an item ‘drinking’ a potion?”

“Again, ‘ridiculous’ is an understatement. That item seems to toy with the natural and magical laws of this world on a whim. And, as I’m sure we both know, there’s only one force in existence capable of something like that.”

“… It’s the work of the gods?”

“Mm-hmm,” nodded the wolfkin in agreement.

A thought somehow tasty and untasty crept into Boxxy’s mind.

“Say, Nao. Is it possible this is a Divine-class item?”

“Possible? No. I’m certain of it. And given that your patron deity loves toying with predictions, probability and the like, I’d say it’s rather obvious who made it.”

“Argh!” groaned Keira. “I knew it! That bastard was messing with me again! ‘I’ll give you a good reward’ my arse! Lying piece of goblin shit!”

In a fit of rage, Boxxy ended up tossing the jewel in question into the floor only to have it bounce off the ceramic tiles and smack it right in the forehead.

“Ouch! God damnit!”

At that point, the doors opened and the half-troll, half-wolf, all-man known as Kuro returned with a tea platter in one hand.

“Dial it down, flea-brain,” he snarled at the rowdy catgirl. “Before I have to make you.”

After a few minutes and a cup of hot tea, Keira simmered down while Kuro glared at her from the corner of the room.

“I take it your patron offered you a Divine item for some Quest?” Nao chanced a guess.

“Something like that… Actually, how come you seem so casual about this?

I was super hyped up when I got the offer, yet you’re treating this like another day at the office.”

“That’s because yours is the third Divine relic I’ve seen, so I’m afraid my hype regarding them has mostly been spent. And let me tell you, those rumors and legends about them being all-powerful items? They’re wrong, blown way out of proportion. Divine equipment follows its own set of rules and can be considered miraculous, but they won’t let you rule a country or whatever. Yours, for instance, seems determined to always come back to you. I’d wager that property was how it wound up in your possession to begin with.”

Come to think of it, it was quite strange that Faehorn would bequeath this thing to Keira even though he never found out about her being a Hero. He might have suspected as much, but it was far more likely the Divine gem manipulated events without anyone realizing. That seemed pretty much a guarantee as the deceased’s niece admitted there were some oddities involved in the processing of the will.

“Just my luck,” groaned Keira as she slumped into her seat. “I should’ve known something was up when Bob promised he’d tell me about it rather than giving it to me. That guy, he’s always so peculiar about his words. I knew he was yanking my chain, just couldn’t tell how.”

“Ahah, well, that’s how the deities are. Lunar can also be infuriatingly cryptic at times, but I don’t really mind. Unraveling the mystery is all part of the fun.”

“I’m glad at least you’re enjoying the Hero thing,” she scoffed. “I’ve nearly had my life ruined several times because of Joshua’s bullshit.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe. I mean, I know the God of Chaos is a notoriously duplicitous deity, but he still means well. At least, that’s what Lunar told me.”

“Means well? Yeah, right! That kettle doesn’t give a single shit about what happens to me! He outright told me he’d enjoy watching me die in interesting ways! And that’s not the worst of-! … Look, I’m about to say a lot of shit right now, but I’d prefer it if we kept it between us.”

Keira looked away from Nao and glared over her shoulder at Kuro. Taking the hint, and after a nod from Nao, the fiend-like beastkin left the room while repeatedly giving the catgirl the ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ gesture.

The nuisance out of the way, Keira began explaining Chaotic Disposition and Agent of Chaos to Nao. The actual effects, not some made up version.

It was hardly the first time Boxxy had to talk about them, so it was possible it might contradict its alter ego if it started lying about those Skills now. It was risky giving away this potentially sensitive information, but the shapeshifter deemed it worthwhile. Its goal was to befriend Nao, and it figured garnering sympathy was a good way to do that. Revealing those stress-inducing Skills was the first step towards that goal. The second was regaling the gullible wolfkin with one of its tried-and-tested sob stories.

Boxxy shared a few, but decided to focus on the tale of the kindly fruit vendor who died of Paralyzing Rotflesh because of Keira’s chaos-inducing presence. It chose this as the highlight because Nao mentioned something about treating diseases during yesterday’s visit. Much as the shapeshifter hoped, the tall tale resonated with the naive Hero and scored quite a few sympathy points for Keira.

Once that deluge of disinformation was done, Nao could do little but sigh and shake his head.

“I don’t know what to say after hearing all that. I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, or what you’re still going through, but I can clearly see being a Hero of Chaos has taken its toll.”

“Yeah. To make matters worse, I saw the Vengeance and Judgement From Above Skills that Teresa’s Hero used when we… you know. They’re so straightforward and uncomplicated compared to Virgil’s that it made me furious. And jealous. That self-righteous prick probably had a super easy life because of them, whereas I’ve had to live like a rat for like… six years!”

“I must confess, though I sympathize with your feelings, I can’t really relate. I’m also guilty of having purely beneficial Hero Skills.”

“Really? What do yours do?”

“They’re called Higher Learning and Elemental Shift. The first lets me train magic-related Skills and Jobs quicker while also making it easier to learn Spells by myself. The other lets me alter the elemental makeup of my Spells on the fly, provided I can spare the extra MP.”

Boxxy had to work extra hard to contain its wicked smile. The ‘I showed you mine so show me yours’ plan to find out what this Hero was capable of had worked flawlessly. This was vital information. It knew what to expect if it went up against the Hero of Magic and the sort of ‘prize’ it could expect should the wolfkin somehow find himself in its belly. Higher Learning was clearly tasty, but Elemental Shift was definitely the big one.

“Tch,” Keira clicked her tongue. “Should’ve known. It’s just me that has it rough.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I hear Axel’s chosen Hero of the Sword has to meet a monthly monster kill quota, otherwise their title gets revoked. And the Hero of Death had to run all over the globe doing his dirty work. Nobody even knows what Nyrie has Her Hero doing, but they’ve been missing for at least twenty years now. It’s hard to imagine such people have the time to do anything for themselves, or foster any meaningful relationships.”

“Maybe, but at least they have purpose. Me? I’m like a fish flopping around in a puddle while a bored kid pokes at me with a stick.”

“I think that’s just your negativity bias talking.”

“Huh? My what-now?”

“Negativity bias. People tend to focus on the bad things that happen to them to a disproportionate degree. I won’t go into the details, but I bet if you really thought about it, the flows of chaos have presented you with fortune and misfortune in equal measure. For instance, you complain about everything you’ve gone through – and rightly so by the sound of it – but it’s also undeniable it left you in a very enviable position.”

Keira had the adoration of thousands. She was a Hero to the Republic’s people in every sense of the word. She was also highly respected by her peers, judging from what Nao heard from the Consortium’s staff. The entire building had been abuzz with the impressive haul the ‘Mad Cat’ brought in from across the border, which also signified her latest adventure had been highly lucrative.

“That’s a thing? Huh,” the girl paused to consider those words. “You might have a point. I certainly wouldn’t be here without Terry, for better or worse.

I just wish he’d tip the scales towards nice things more often, you know?

Oh, actually, that reminds me. There’s a… delicate matter I could use your help with.”

“How delicate?”

“You can’t speak of it to anyone.”

“Does it have anything to do with your death?”

Part Four

“What?!”

The redhead screamed in shock, then put a hand over her mouth once she realized how much she’d raised her voice.

“I’m not an idiot, Keira. I recognized the thing in your back as a soulstone, and we both know there’s only one way that could’ve gotten there.”

“… You can’t tell Rowie. Or miss Hilda. Or anyone!”

“I figured you might feel that way, that’s why I kept my mouth shut yesterday. And why I intend to keep it that way. You have my word that I won’t tell a soul. Or even things without a soul. I can even swear it on Teresa’s name, if you want.”

“Your word will have to do. Me and that Goddess, I doubt we’d get along, all things considered.”

“Ah, right. The Hero Killer thing…”

A heavy silence hung in the air as the catgirl and the wolfboy took sips of their tea.

“So, uhm, this is kind of awkward,” Keira stammered, “but that wasn’t actually what I meant. The delicate matter is something else entirely.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, it’s… rare for me to jump to conclusions like that.

Nevertheless, I can at least hear you out.”

“Right. Ugh, there’s no good way to say it, but I… somehow ended up with a Level 25 Wizard Job out of nowhere.”

Nao slightly turned his head with a quizzical look that suggested he was skeptical, yet intrigued.

“You did, did you? Dare I ask how?”

“It’s… complicated… Look, that part’s not important. It’s just that I have all these new incantations in my head, but I’m scared to give them a try.

I’ve done magic through Skills and stuff before, but this is different. Spells
are like… official, you know? I’m afraid I’ll hurt myself or those around me if I start playing around with the mystic arts.”

“Oh, I see. That’s definitely the right attitude to have with unfamiliar magic.

You’d be surprised how many people toy with supernatural powers they barely understand and… youuuu… want me to train you, don’t you?”

“Mmm, s-something like that. I just, I figure if I’m given this power, I should probably learn to use it responsibly and safely, you know?”

“Well, sorry to say, but I’m not a holder of the Wizard Job myself. I have my hands full with the Scribe, Alchemist, and Enchanter already, so…

yeah.”

“I already know you’re useless in a fight. You made that clear when you wet yourself yesterday.”

“Hey!”

“But you still know stuff about things, right? About how magic works?”

“I would certainly hope so. Otherwise, I might as well be the Hero of Muffins!”

“Heh. Muffins.”

“On a more serious note, why not just go to one of the guilds? They’d be able to do a lot better than I would.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll go over well. ‘Hi, I just instantly got 25 Levels of a Job because I’m special.’ I’d rather not.”

“It’s not that bad. Anyone can get Level 25 in a combat Job if they work on it for one or two months.”

“I’m not just ‘anyone’ though. I’m the Hero of Chaos. I don’t want any more horrible rumors spreading, especially about how I’m an entitled brat that had everything handed to her. That’s the last thing I want to be. They can call me violent and crazy all they want, but at least I’m willing to admit there’s some truth to those.”

“But-”

“And don’t get me started on the glory hogs who just want to ‘teach’ me in order to elevate their own status. I have to beat those pricks off with a stick as is. I’d really rather not invite a bunch of wand-twirling, pajama-wearing twinkle-fingers breathing down my neck!”

“… Twinkle-fingers?”

“Sorry. Heard that from a dwarf recently and it got stuck in my head.”

“Ah. Well, I can certainly see where you’re coming from. I’d personally prefer if nobody knew about my connection to Lunar. It’s convenient at times, but certainly a bother at others.”

“So, you’ll help?”

“I suppose I might as well since I won’t be leaving for at least another week, and I need something to keep me busy. I can show you the basics until then, but after that you really should find a proper Mentor.”

“I will! Thanks a lot!”

“Don’t mention it. First things first, though, I’m going to need a few things from you.”

The wolfkin stood up and reached into his robes, pulling out a notebook and enchanted quill.

“Wait, we’re starting right now?”

“No, no, I’m far too tired for that. This is just prep work,” he explained.

“Here, I want you to note down all your Attributes, Jobs, Skills, and any relevant Perks.”

“Uh, what? Why?”

“Because I need to know what I’m working with.”

“No, I meant-”

“I know what you meant. I’m not a Scribe capable of Full Appraisal just yet. I can barely do a Basic one, to be honest. All your non-caster Jobs and Skills would fly over my head since I lack a great deal of knowledge.

Besides, I wouldn’t want to put you through that gross-feeling process.

Nobody likes being Appraised.”

“Yeah… Thanks for that. You know, you can be rather sweet when you want to.”

Nao blushed ever so slightly at Keira’s bright smile and kind words, both of which were positively oozing with charm.

“D-d-don’t mention it. Hah! Ahahah! Ahah!”

The wolfkin ended up stuttering his way over to some cabinets with a forced, nervous laugh, as he was unused to this sort of treatment from the opposite sex. The sort of attention his vulnerable appearance attracted from most women was superbly undesirable. This was the first time in recent memory a girl had treated him like a person rather than a doll or toy. He tried to put those thoughts out of his head as he rummaged through the cupboards. Meanwhile, Boxxy was thanking its lucky stars for dodging that Appraisal and began writing out Keira’s Status. Or, at least, the part of it that it wanted Nao to see. Meanwhile, the wolfkin was struggling to find the device he was after. He was a guest and didn’t know where everything was, so it took him a few minutes to locate the item. This gave Keira plenty of time to finish her task.

“All done?” he asked as he took back his notebook. “Let me see here…”

“Uh, Nao? What’s that crown-looking thing in your hand?”

“I’ll explain in a bit. Before that, your Job Levels are kind of ridiculous.”

“Are they? What’s wrong with them?”

“You said here you’re a Level 41 Ranger, a Level 39 Blade Dancer, and a Level 23 Artificer. Plus, your Skills are all reasonably developed. And that’s not even counting this new Wizard Job.”

“Okay? And?”

“It’s just hard to believe this is the Status of a sixteen year old who’s only been an adventurer for- How long was it?”

“Little over half a year?”

“I’ll be blunt – it’s extremely impressive you managed to get so strong this quickly. What’s your secret, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The redhead’s mood visibly soured as she took a deep breath, but she answered nonetheless.

“Taking part in a war and going on grueling month-long treks through the monster-infested wilderness. I imagine anyone would go up in Levels in those circumstances.”

“Ah… I apologize. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. A lot of things happened, but I’m stronger for it. And, if there’s anything being Jordan’s Hero has taught me, it’s that you can overcome

‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ or whatever as long as you have two things – mettle, and the power to back it up. If I’m going to make the world stop treating me and my loved ones like its playthings, then I need to harness every weapon I can. Be it the bow, the blade, the bomb, or a Wizard’s magic.”

“… You are a lot more complicated than you initially let on. You know that, Keira?”

“I’d rather not be, but here we are,” she offered a defeated smile.

“Ahem! Right! Speaking of magic and blades and whatnot, I was wondering about something. Is it true Blade Dancers can evoke Spells purely through motion?”

“Uh, no? Of course not. Well, kind of. I mean, there might be some advanced technique that does that, but the most I can do right now is conjure flames and ice through a Skill. It’s certainly not a Spell. More of a Martial Art, I suppose.”

“Ah, so it was a Skill! Sorry, I heard it was magic that scaled with one’s Intelligence Attribute, so I assumed Spell. If it’s not, that makes me even more curious! I would be quite interested in seeing it sometime, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Sure, I don’t mind.”

“Great. For now, I still need to- Wait, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re holding one of the old swords used for Enchanting practice while taking up a fighting stance…”

“Glad to see being such a bookworm hasn’t impacted your powers of observation,” said the catgirl with a wink. “Better keep putting those to good use, yeah?”

“I said I would like to see it ‘sometime!’ Not here and-”

“Winterlich Waltz!”

Before Nao could stop it, the genius at showing off that was Keira Morgana was already at it. The dull blade in her hand was coated with a pure white sheet of ice and let off a fine mist as it and its wielder danced gracefully around the room. A series of long, flowing movements blended together into a single sequence, each pirouette, spin, or jump seamlessly leading into the next motion.

“Nanananaaaah, lah-lah, lah-lah. Lararara-daaah, lah-lah, lah-lah.

Narananaaah! La-la-la! La-la! La-lah!”

She also made her own music with a combination of her humming voice and the beautiful sounds the ice-imbued sword made as it cut through the air. It was undoubtedly something meant to end lives, yet the elegance, grace, and slow tempo with which the girl performed the technique gave it an air of class and charm. It was a performance worthy of being in a palace or opera, not a stuffy laboratory. Even though she was moving so much in a cramped space with all sorts of apparatuses strewn about, she never once faltered or knocked over anything. Her limbs and weapon came within millimeters of colliding with various objects, but never so much as touched them. It was a masterful display of depth perception and precise movement.

The display positively enthralled her slack-jawed audience. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or the oddity of his company, but Nao couldn’t help but feel as if he was staring at a dream. He almost wanted to ask who was this mysterious creature that had replaced the ‘complicated person’ he was talking to mere moments ago. It was as if someone had distilled elegance and beauty into a physical form. Even the one-size-too-large plain blouse she was wearing almost seemed like a billowing gown as its hem flapped about. The head of crimson hair that topped it all off flickered like a piece of living flame amidst a misty winter wonderland.

“Pam! Pam! Tadaaah!”

With a final flourish and a kneeling finish, the performance finally ended.

“So? What’d you think?” asked Keira as she jumped back to her feet, already back to her tomboyish self. “I’ve had plenty of chances to practice my moves lately. I’ve gotten pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”

Nao didn’t think they were ‘pretty good,’ no. In his humble opinion, the performance was marvelous. Beautiful. Stupendous. He would even go so far as to say it was literally enchanting.

“Y-Y-Yeah…”

Unfortunately, that weak response was all he could muster. Truth be told, he had already seen Blade Dancers in action. However, that was in the field during combat. Watching it up close and in such an intimate setting had been a rather extraordinary experience. It opened his eyes to the otherwise obvious fact that Keira was a young woman, and an extremely attractive one at that. The epiphany reduced him from a scholar to a hormonal teenager whose mind had trouble thinking about anything other than ‘I’m alone with a pretty girl!’

“Ah, that felt good,” Keira happily stretched her arms up. “Skipped out on my morning stretches, so that really hit the spot. Anyway, what were you saying about the crown in your hands?”

“Right! Yes! Yes, of course! So, the, uh… the aptitude scanner…”

His thoughts were still somewhere else entirely, though, and he ended up unintentionally staring at Keira’s face, especially her lips. They were thin, but looked incredibly soft all the same.

“Nao?” her sweet voice woke him from his stupor. “What’s wrong?”

“S-sorry. I’m, uh, still quite sleepy,” he deflected nervously. “So, like you said, this crown-looking thingy. It, uh, you see all these colorful crystal rods sticking in- out of it?”

“Yeah? There’s sixteen of them, right?”

“Yes, yes, quite right. So, uh, this tool samples your internal mana – just a tiny bit of MP, nothing to worry about,” he added in a hurry. “It then determines which magical element you’re most in tune with, which then indicates which arcane disciplines you have natural predisposition towards.

This is mainly determined by lineage, but can be influenced by the environment of one’s formative years. The exact factors are largely unknown, so there’s currently no way to accurately determine aptitude without one of these scanners.”

“Uh… Okay? Now can you explain that in more practical terms?”

“Oh, sorry. Here, let me demonstrate.”

The Hero of Magic then placed the ‘crown’ on his head. Four of the crystals lit up instantly, though the pink-ish one was much brighter than the white, deep blue, and dark green.

“See, in my case, my strongest element is space, followed by cold, water, and scourge,” he explained by pointing to each glowing stone in turn. “It’s a bit of an awkward combo, but normally it means I should look into becoming a Cryomancer rather than a Pyromancer.”

“Oh, I get it! So, it lets you know what your talents are? That’s pretty neat!”

The girl leaned closer to Nao as if to get a better look at his enchant headwear.

“There’s quite a lot of these stones, though. Are there really that many elements?”

“Th-that’s right,” he stammered nervously, unsure how to deal with the invasion of his personal space. “Some are more c-common than others but… s-sixteen. Yeah.”

“What happens if I use, uh, an unattuned element?”

“Well, st-statistically speaking you’ll be more prone to messing up the Spell, or it may produce a weaker effect than expected. Experienced Spell-slingers can overcome this after several years of, well, experience. A beginner like you should definitely, uh, stick to your strengths.”

“Hmm, hmm, I see,” said Keira while vigorously nodding along. “Can I give it a go, then?”

“Be my guest,” he said weakly as he handed over the item.

Boxxy momentarily paused its efforts to charm the shy wolfkin as it was quite eager to see how this turned out. It had no idea this aptitude test was
even a thing, but then again it hadn’t really looked into applying for a magic-centric guild as a newbie. The only thing Hidden Arrow asked of Keira before letting her sign up were some basic tests of her overall fitness and hand-eye coordination. The girl naturally passed with flying colors, though that was hardly an achievement. Those exams were so easy that she’d have to be crippled or otherwise disabled not to pass. On second thought, that was probably the point.

Regardless, even if the shapeshifter used magic quite a bit, it had no idea what its ‘strongest’ element actually was, so it put the aptitude scanning device on with high expectations.

“Well?” asked Keira excitedly. “Which one is it?”

“Huh. Now that’s weird,” said Nao scratching his left ear. “I mean, usually you’d see anywhere between two and five of the things light up, but in your case… I don’t see any.”

“Uhm, okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm, let me think,” said Nao, tapping his chin. “The magical charge extracted from the user… path of least resistance… can’t be none of them…

maybe too many paths? … Okay, I have an idea. Do you know how to use magic tools that accept variable MP input?”

“Yeah, my Artificer Mentor showed me how to work her spot-welder.”

“Then try to channel some MP into the item. As little as you can manage.

It’s quite sensitive, so it might break if you give it more than ten points or so.”

This was going to be difficult. Nao didn’t know, but that was such a miniscule portion of Boxxy’s power that his request was akin to tipping over a bathtub full of water until precisely three drops landed in a cup below. Still, it tried its hardest to accomplish it. It even ended up shutting Keira’s eyes on reflex as it narrowed its focus. Unfortunately, it was a wasted effort.

*SNAP*

All sixteen crystals popped at once as the measuring device was overloaded.

“So, it’s like that after all,” mused the Hero of Magic.

“Sorry!” apologized Keira while taking the thing off. “I’m still a newbie, so I misjudged the-!”

“No, never mind that. See here,” he said, taking the item from her head.

“Notice how flawlessly you cracked all of these right down the middle?

Well, aside from the one for shock. That one seems like it got a slightly lesser charge, but still more or less equal.”

“… Please tell me that’s a good thing.”

“It is! I think I’m starting to understand why Fabio is so interested in you!

Keira, you have a rare gift!”

“I do?!” she asked, her face brimming with anticipation.

“You’re something us scholars call a polymagus!”

“Nice! What’s that mean?”

“None of your elements stand out! You’re completely average on all of them!”

The girl’s excited grin stiffened into a tight-lipped smile that was best described as ‘annoyed disappointment.’

“What?” the oblivious wolfkin looked around. “Is something the matter?”

Keira beckoned him to lean closer with a finger. The gesture might have invoked feelings of intimacy if not for the sharp glare in her golden eyes.

He wasn’t sure what that entailed, but leaned in all the same.

“If you get my hopes up like that again,” she half-whispered, half-growled,

“I’m going to slap you so hard it’ll sting for a week. Understand?”

Nao had never been an expert on women, but he was especially clueless when it came to a young girl’s heart. He couldn’t fathom why his excitement about Keira being a polymagus would upset her. In reality, it was his ‘completely average’ phrasing that really ticked her off. No teenager liked being told that not being special was their best feature.

However ignorant on the matter, the Hero of Magic was still a lightning-fast study, so he already knew what to do in this situation.

“… Yes, ma’am.”

Namely, to seek forgiveness first, and save the explanations for later.

Part Five

Boxxy awoke curled up inside the aptly named Vessel of Dreams, situated deep within its personal dungeon. It crawled out of the mithril chest in its natural form, then rapidly moved through a series of bodily transformations in rapid succession. It became a wooden chest, a perky catgirl, a tower mercenary, a mini-Nagnamor, a goat-headed toad, and a giant porcupine with swords for needles, only to end up back where it started. These

‘morning stretches’ were something it had been doing quite regularly lately, as its body had been feeling strangely stiff whenever it woke up. That oddity was troubling in and of itself, but it wasn’t the only irregularity the creature was experiencing. Fatigue was another issue. Normally, it could go two or three days without sleep, yet lately it found it difficult to remain active for more than twenty hours at a time. The strangest thing was that it didn’t feel weaker or slower, just inexplicably tired. The fatigue was so profound that it had slept every single night since Keira’s official return to Azurvale four days ago, and that still didn’t feel like enough.

Initially, it had attributed this lethargy to pushing itself on Mortimer’s Quest, but it now had serious doubts whether that was the cause. It was ludicrous to think someone with Legendary Endurance would succumb so easily to something as simple as exhaustion. Did it catch a weird disease from all those Necromancers? No, it surely would have noticed it before it came back to Azurvale if that was the case. That and the aforementioned Perk would render it immune to all but the most virulent of plagues, and if it caught something like that its symptoms would surely be far worse.

Changing mental tracks, it pondered if its hybrid nature was to blame. It was common knowledge that many plants went into a dormant state during cold weather, and the Republic was known for its harsh winters. It was entirely possible that the vegetative part of its confusing physiology was instinctively trying to hibernate. On second thought, it dismissed that idea.

Even if creepers suffered from such a condition, Boxxy was part hylt. Those trees continued to produce fruit and maintain their foliage even as they were pelted by blizzards. If the shapeshifter inherited even a tiny bit of that absurd vitality, then there was no way the cold was the cause of its constant drowsiness. The only other thing it could think of was that something was
going on with the doppelganger side of its body. Unfortunately, it had nobody to ask. Reggie still hadn’t made contact ever since going dark, making Boxxy wonder if the old ‘ganger skipped town entirely. Well, it expected that sort of thing when it cut the elder monster loose, so it really shouldn’t have gotten mad at him for running away to preserve his own life.

It shouldn’t have, yet it still did.

This was another issue Boxxy noticed ever since coming back to its lair – it was far too easily agitated, growing needlessly emotional over seemingly inconsequential things. The creature liked to think it still possessed at least some of that monumental patience it had as a mimic. Yes, the trait had weakened somewhat since it evolved into a doppelganger, but getting incredibly ticked off at the smallest thing was a very recent development.

Its temper had grown so bad it started spilling out into its Facade despite its best efforts to keep a lid on it. For instance, most of the times Keira snapped or snarled at Nao’s insufferable bodyguard had been unintentional ‘leaks.’

Speaking of which, it was about time to get back into character, so it reached out to its body double.

“Snack, how goes it?”

“Good morning, Master. I am almost done eating breakfast with the elf. I’ll be out of the house and on my way to the C.C. within minutes.”

The ex-succubus had been filling in for Keira so that her master could get as much rest as possible within its shiny bed-chest. This didn’t help its fatigue much, but it did wonders for its unstable mood.

“Alright, let me know when you’re out of the house so we can swap. You’re to resume tending to the alraune seedling afterwards.”

“Ugh. That thing again?” groaned Xera. “Can I not?”

Boxxy and its demonic posse had acquired the plant during their trip through human lands. The djinn was the one who led the shapeshifter to the source of the mountain alraune that Ambrosia had taken a liking to. Despite her involvement, she had quite a few reservations about handling it, mostly because of what she was forced to do in order to secure it. It had not been a tasty experience, to say the least.

“You know full well you’re the only one who can care for it, so don’t slack off. Ambrosia’s expecting a prime specimen, and you do not want to disappoint her. Or me. Understood?”

“… Yes, Master.”

“Arms, how are things on your end?”

“Hey, boss. Still as fucking quiet as ever,” reported Kora.

“Hmmm, perhaps you were a bit too subtle last time?”

“Pfahahaha!” Xera burst out. “Subtle! Aaah-hahahahaha!”

“Shut it, Snack!” snapped the master. “Claws, find Arms another target to crush. Something a bit higher profile.”

“You got it, Boxxy!” responded Drea in high spirits.

The intent was to have the archfiend serve as bait to draw out the Foundation. She was the most easily recognizable of the Sandman’s minions, so having her trample a few illicit businesses was sure to catch their notice. She was, of course, not the most observant of demons, which was why Claws was on hand to act as her eyes and ears. Boxxy didn’t have to worry about either of them getting captured. Even if they could be overpowered and subdued, the addendum to their contracts allowed them to flee at any point. Admittedly, whether such a crude tactic would actually work on an organization as secretive as the Foundation was… questionable.

However, the shapeshifter refused to sit and wait for them to make a move.

It had to take initiative.

At the very least, the living embodiment of violence called Kora was able to bring back a decent amount of loot from her outings. Not just gold and gems, but also alchemical supplies, raw materials, enchanted gear, and various smuggled or otherwise illicit goods. She was actually getting rather good at discerning the value of an item beyond ‘it looked fancy,’ which was a pleasant surprise for Boxxy. Perhaps her claims that she wouldn’t be a singularity of stupidity forever had some weight behind them, though Xera remained skeptical.

After sorting out its shady business for the day, Boxxy swapped places with Snack and resumed its role as Keira. It continued on its way to the Central

Consortium while mulling over its recent health issues, for lack of a better term. Nothing had changed since earlier that morning, so it still couldn’t think how to go about addressing them. Not even a dunk in Ambrosia’s Waters of Life had cured it, so it was already out of options. No, that wasn’t quite true. There was still What's-His-Face the gazer demon, the one that Arms met during their last dungeon crawl. Hiring him as a dungeon master so the shapeshifter could poke around his centuries-old mind was definitely an option, but not a tasty one. Demons were inherently devious, untrustworthy beings, and the Rankers were even worse. The business with acquiring the alraune seedling in particular showed just how unpredictable they could be. Therefore, Boxxy continued to resist the temptation to hire the mega-beholder, at least for the time being.

The creature dropped all those distracting thoughts upon its arrival at the Central Consortium so that it could focus on the task at hand. Keira walked into the lobby and, with her trademark smile and cheerful voice, called out to the beastkin waiting for her.

“Hey, Nao! I’m not late, am I?”

“Morning, Keira,” he replied. “No, you’re right on time as usual. Did you, uh, sleep well?”

“More or less. What’s tall, dark, and gruesome doing here?” she frowned at the big guy in the back.

“My job, ya little shit,” responded Kuro “You burned off Nao’s eyebrows yesterday, so I’m tagging along to make sure you don’t take off his head next.”

“That was just Chaotic Disposition randomly going off! I wasn’t trying to harm him on purpose!”

“Oh, so you only accidentally set people on fire? I guess that’s alright, then!”

This was bad. Boxxy seriously could not deal with this guy, as his hostility towards its Facade was a major source of ire. It was well warranted, all things considered, but that was beside the point. The shapeshifter needed to make an effort not to engage with him, otherwise things could get out of
hand real fast. It took a mental step back and decided to let him do what he wanted.

“Yeah, okay, I guess you have a point,” the catgirl gave up with a sigh.

“Intentional or not, it was my fault. I do need to be more careful.”

“Now, now, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Nao reassured her. “Random magical emissions aside, you’re getting the hang of things much smoother than anticipated. I guess being a polymagus isn’t just for show, huh?”

This ‘polymagus’ thing did turn out to be relatively tasty, despite how poorly the Hero of Magic had phrased it initially. Apparently, it was an exceptionally rare trait amongst people, but present in nearly all dungeon-born monsters, including Boxxy. The important part was that, while a polymagus didn’t have a ‘strongest’ element, they also didn’t have a

‘weakest’ one. They had the potential to wield all forms of magic at a reasonably high degree of competence, though actually doing so would take considerable training, study, and dedication.

“I fail to understand why shock seems the odd one out though,” the woflkin scratched his cheek. “You seem to struggle with it a lot more than you should. Perhaps it’s some form of psychological block or mental trauma?

Can you think of anything like that?”

Boxxy knew full well what ‘psychological block’ was causing this. ‘Shock’

was the main component of all forms of lightning, which was the shapeshifter’s Bane. Channeling the element filled it with a sense of instinctive loathing bordering on fear. This reflex made it profoundly difficult to successfully cast either the Lightning Bolt or the Spark Blast Spells. It could still do if tried hard enough, and it wouldn’t even get hurt.

At least, not unless it was stupid enough to stand within Spark Blast’s area of effect or fumbled the invocation so bad that it backfired. All things considered, this wasn’t something the shapeshifter intended to use in the heat of combat, nor was it about to divulge that information to its teacher.

Luckily, it knew just the right scapegoat to blame for Keira’s inadequacies with lightning.

“… Well, I suppose there was this one incident near the end of the war,” she winced. “I’m not going to go into details, but a superior officer subjected
me to a rather harsh and unwarranted jolt of electricity. Right after waking up from being in an inexplicable coma for a few days, no less.”

“O-oh. I, err, see. I suppose that would have caused you to have some reservations about the element. But it’ll be okay! I’m sure you’ll overcome it and get the handle of shock if you put your mind to it!”

“I can’t take all the credit,” she replied with a smile. “You’re a pretty good teacher, you know.”

“Eheh! Hehe…”

Seeing him laugh in a goofy manner at such a superficial and stereotypical compliment gave Boxxy pause. It was plain as day that Nao had steadily been developing a crush on the redhead catgirl over the last few days, which was perfectly in line with the monster’s plans and goals. However, the same couldn’t be said about Keira’s. She wasn’t the sort of girl who’d fool around on her significant other, nor was she dense enough not to notice the awkward wolfkin’s affections. It was almost impressive that this lasted so long. Keira’s relationship with Rowana was public knowledge, and something of a hot topic within the capital’s rumor mill. Then again, Nao was the shut-in bookworm type, so he probably didn’t have a lot of chances to gossip.

His sworn brother Kuro was another matter entirely, however. He may have been rather crude and vulgar, but he didn’t seem like the type that would miss a saucy rumor. If anything, his continued hostility towards Keira hinted at him being unusually perceptive when it came to people. The bodyguard most assuredly knew about the redhead’s significant other as well as his sworn brother’s growing infatuation. Boxxy concluded it was in the catgirl’s best interest that she be the one to clear this up, lest she be accused of stringing Nao along on purpose. The only reason someone like her would do that was if she was buttering him up for her own personal gain. Either that or she secretly played for both teams and was about to become a cheating slut, but, as previously established, Keira wasn’t that sort of girl.

“Nao, I really need to tell you something,” she spoke in serious tone.

“Wh-what is it?” he kept stammering awkwardly.

“We, uh, we should probably go to the practice range first. It’s kind of…

personal.”

There weren’t that many people around. In fact, the place was pretty dead during winter since very few adventurers were willing to undertake Quests in this sort of weather. Nor were there any juicy commissions to begin with.

Nevertheless, the lobby was still a public space where anyone could walk past and overhear something sensitive.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Let’s go, Kuro.”

The beastkin trio headed towards a certain room in the building’s basement, one large enough to be an auditorium. The walls were heavily fortified with magic dampening enchantments and lined with bronze to further raise their durability against Spells while various target dummies shaped like common monsters were strewn about the place. This was a space where magic users could practice their craft without fear of hurting or inconveniencing others and was the site of Nao and Keira’s private lessons. Though situated within the Central Consortium, it wasn’t available to everyone. The facility was owned and maintained by the Broken Mirror guild so that their members could practice the arcane arts in peace, and they often did so even during this ‘off season.’ None were present at the moment since the Hero of Magic had requested to reserve the space, and the guild was more than happy to oblige. Nao’s title carried quite a bit of weight within the robed community, after all.

“So, what’s this about?”

The gray-haired wolf-boy wasted no time and got to the point as soon as the doors were shut.

“Well… Uh… Wow, this is harder than I thought it would be… I guess I should start by saying that I’m sorry. I might have unwittingly sent you some mixed signals and given you the wrong idea.”

“… Okay? And what idea would that be?”

“It’s… Sweet Brandon, this is awkward!” she groaned. “Look. I like you, Nao, and I don’t want to hurt you, but if you’re going to be like this, then I’ll just come out and say it.”

Her words understandably confused the wolfkin. He was happy to hear ‘I like you,’ but the context filled him with unease and dread that were quickly proven to be well-warranted.

“I can see clear as day that you’re… attracted to me, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I’m already in a serious romantic relationship, so I can’t be with you.”

“Oh… That’s…” muttered Nao, obviously not sure how to cope with this news. “So you don’t… feel anything towards me?”

“I do! Just not in that way.”

“Why not in that way?!” he shouted, his voice cracking and taking on a weird tone. “What’s wrong with me?! Is it because I’m not ‘man’ enough for you?!”

“No! For real, it’s not because of you! You’re great guy that any girl would be lucky to-”

“That’s what women always say!” he snapped back. “I’m not an idiot! If you have a problem with me, come out and say it! I’d rather have the truth than your pity!”

“Nao. She is telling the truth,” Kuro butted in. “The girl’s a carpet muncher.”

“… A what?” he blurted out dumbly.

“She’s not into men, but women. Really girly girls, too.”

“So you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I just heard it recently from the receptionist. Besides, it’s not like you would’ve listened to me with all the blood rushing to the wrong head.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Neither is getting angry at me. I’m not the one you have a problem with right now.”

“Yeah, about that!”

Nao’s outrage snapped back to Keira after Kuro skillfully deflected it.

“How come you didn’t tell me sooner?!”

“I thought you knew!” she countered. “It’s not like I went out of my way to hide it! I mean, what sort of relationship do you think I had with Rowie for us to be living together in a one-bedroom house?!”

“… I thought you were roommates or cousins or something.”

“Lovers, Nao! We’re lovers! Girlfriends! The kind that take long moonlit walks through the park and do naughty things together!”

“… At the same time?” interjected Kuro from the side.

“You stay out of this, Fido!” snapped Keira.

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” yelled Nao, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I never stood a chance! You didn’t have to rub it in!”

“Yes, I did!” she insisted. “You may be smart, but you’re way too dense!

Otherwise, you would have realized this on your own!”

Thinking back on it, the baby-faced Hero realized she had a point. Though he only saw them together for a little while, Rowana and Keira were indeed exceptionally close. Intimate even. He was so overjoyed there wasn’t a

‘mister Morgana’ that he turned a blind eye to the possibility of there being a ‘missus.’

“Again, I’m really sorry,” the redhead kept apologizing. “I didn’t mean to string you along and give you false hope, but it just sort of happened.”

“No, no, I get it,” he said in a quiet, quivering voice. “It was my fault for assuming that I, uh… That you were… You know…”

“We can still be friends,” she put an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “I’d very much like that, to be honest. Us Heroes need to stick together, y’know?”

“I, uhm… I don’t… I just… Exc-excuse me, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Nao left the practice range and ran into an adjacent storage room to sulk in peace, leaving Keira alone with Kuro. The two maintained an awkward silence for about a minute before the catgirl finally addressed the elephant in the room.

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Of course. Even if he acts and looks like a kid, he’s still a grown-ass man.

He’ll get over this without too much drama.”

“That’s good. I was really worried how this would turn out.”

“So did I, to be honest. You were the first girl he’s allowed to get so close to him in a long time, so I wasn’t sure what to do. Heh. Y’know, it’s kind of ironic, but being a carpet muncher might turn out for the best in the long run.”

“Please stop calling me that. I’m not completely sure what it means, but I’m sure it’s something vulgar.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still, I’m glad I misjudged you, kiddo. Don’t tell Nao I said this, but I’d appreciate it if you tried to make this friendship work. Goddess knows he needs more of those.”

“Oh? Does this mean you’ll finally get off my case?”

“Fuck, no! You may not be a two-timing skank, but you’re still a goddamn psycho!”

“And you’re still a troll masquerading as a person, so I guess we’re even.”

The two glared at each other yet again, though the atmosphere this time around was more akin to friendly rivalry than outright hostility. It would appear Boxxy had made the right move, as Keira coming clean and resolving this matter on her own had clearly alleviated some of the bodyguard’s worries. He wasn’t about to join the fan club, but at the very least he would be less abrasive going forward. Or, so the shapeshifter hoped.

“We could always just work out our differences in a hand-to-hand duel,”

suggested Kuro with a very Arms-like grin. “They say fists speak louder than words.”

“No, ‘they’ don’t. Nobody says that. Nobody’s ever said that. That’s idiotic.

Even for you.”

“Yeesh, what a spoilsport.”

Silence filled the room again until Nao returned about twenty minutes later.

He had freshened up quite a bit, but it was obvious by his puffy red eyes that he had been crying most of the time. He and Keira made up, and the Hero of Magic declared that he would indeed like to remain friends. Even though he had his affections so completely rejected, he still appreciated her company. Especially the way she treated him as an equal. That was the main the reason he developed a crush on her in the first place. Not to mention that, now that all the cards were on the table, he found it much easier to communicate with Keira. Both parties were silently grateful for this development, though admittedly for very different reasons.

The magic lessons began more or less according to plan as Keira launched Spell after Spell at the target dummies while Kuro kept an eye out for any random magical discharges. There was a delay of just over a second between Chaotic Disposition triggering and the effect manifesting itself.

This gave the Berserker enough time to cover Nao with his body, assuming that the catgirl warned them the instant she got the message. The Hero of Magic kept watching over his pupil, giving her various tips on the deceptively intricate matter of chanting. Some of his advice was obvious, but much of it would be hard to find in a book or from a Skill. One such trick was the technique of ‘cooking’ Spells, whereby the caster would deliberately stall the invocation in order to unleash it at an opportune moment. All of his hints were seemingly little things like that, but Boxxy was more than happy to feed off Nao’s expertise and experience. The shapeshifter naturally did not forget to act out a few total failures here and there, as the catgirl it was portraying was supposed to be a total beginner at magic.

Practical tricks aside, the theoretical knowledge it picked up over the past four days was the truly valuable part of these lessons. For instance, Boxxy was now aware that Spells were made up of two major parts – the shape and the payload. The first referred to what form the magic took when invoked.

In other words, the payload’s delivery method. ‘Missiles’ such as Shadowbolt and Fireball were the most common, but by no means the only ones. The other five basic forms were beam, field, wave, infusion, and aura.

Respective examples of each of those forms were the Scorching Ray and Inferno Spells from Snack’s repertoire, followed by Dark Explosion, Ebonfire, and Shadowbind from Boxxy’s.

The payload portion of a Spell was where things got more complicated, as this part employed a combination of up to three of the sixteen magical elements. Keeping track of each magical ‘flavor’ and the relationship between them was proving harder for Boxxy to memorize than anticipated.

It could still call them up with Legendary Intelligence’s ‘rewind’ feature, but that had a time limit. So, until it was able to commit everything to its long term memory, the monster prepared a little cheat sheet for future reference.

Opposites:

Heat – Cold

Dark – Light

Shock – Stone

Wind – Water

Mind – Force

Space – Gravity

Cure – Scourge

Holy – Curse

Complementary:

Heat – Wind – Space – Shock – Light – Holy – Cure – Force – Cold – Water

– Gravity – Stone – Dark – Curse – Scourge – Mind – Heat – (Repeat) Most of these were quite logical and natural, like how cold was the inverse of heat, but easily combined with water to create ice. The other, less obvious relationships seemed rather counterintuitive at first, like the fact that wind and water were opposites. Boxxy’s initial assumption had been that the counter to air would be earth, and expressed as much through Keira.

Nao admitted that was a common misconception and warned the redhead not to make assumptions based on naming conventions. Yes, it was normally impossible for wind to blow through a solid chunk of rock, but it definitely could with the right Spell or enchantment. The whole point of magic was to subvert and manipulate the natural order of things, after all.

The elements on Boxxy’s cheat sheet were merely abstract ideas that sentient minds used to ‘color’ the ‘blank canvas’ called mana.

This distinction between the laws of magic and laws of nature became painfully obvious when considering the arcane aspects that had no mundane equivalent. The one called ‘scourge,’ for instance. Boxxy had no idea this
was even a thing until these tutoring sessions started. Apparently, this flavor of magic manifested itself as disease, decay, poison, and the like.

Combining it with other elements would produce magical ailments usually intended to impair and hinder rather than outright kill. Its opposite being the only restorative element made sense in that context, but its supposedly cooperative relationship with mind magic? That seemed rather puzzling to say the least, but the combination was indisputably effectively. Boxxy’s Hysteria Spell, much like most of the Domination school of magic, was one such composite incantation. The auditory and visual hallucination it invoked upon its targets could easily be described as ‘a malady of the mind,’ so Nao’s claims seemed to check out.

Once it learned all that, the shapeshifter began to pick apart other magics it knew of in an attempt to figure out how they were put together. Fireball, for instance, was a missile-shaped lump of heat and wind, the latter facilitating the explosion of fire that came out when it hit something. The last part was how it differed from a Wizard’s Firebolt, which, just like all Basic Spells, had only a single element. This made it less flashy and more limited in scope, but arguably deadlier since the magical power was significantly more focused. It was similar in that respect to Ruin magic’s Reality Slash, which was actually a narrow wave of pure force. However, being so straightforward also meant that it was easier to defend against these, even if they were technically more damaging than Spells with a composite elemental makeup.

Needless to say, most incantations that employed multiple elements used ones that were relatively close together on the ‘complimentary’ chain.

‘Most’ being the operative word in that statement, as Spells that employed

‘distant’ components most definitely existed. A good example was Snack’s Purge, which literally burned through toxins plaguing the body while also cauterizing any open wounds. This was made possible through an unbalanced, counterintuitive infusion of cure and heat, which had the harmful side effect of causing mild damage to the recipient. The upside was that heat’s aggressive nature made the Spell act quicker and with greater potency than purely restorative cleansing magic.

While distant elements could potentially be mixed, total opposites could not. Those were the relationships that interested Boxxy the most, as it was finally starting to grasp how to put the Pandomenium Spell to good use.

With enough practice and study, it would be able to predict exactly how a Spell would react when filtered through this magic-flipping field.

Interestingly enough, the effect also applied to both payload and shape.

Missiles became beams, fields turned to waves, infusions transformed into auras, and vice-versa. For instance, Snack’s Fireballs became freezing beams the instant they passed through Pandomenium’s area of effect.

Boxxy’s Shadowbolts, missiles of volatile gravity stabilized by darkness, became rays of bright light that disintegrated a chunk of whatever they hit.

Those were just the straightforward ones. The exact effects of flipping more complex incantations like Shadowbind were far less obvious. In that case, the ‘aura’ of earth and darkness that normally produced chains to physically hold people down transformed into a magical shock that could potentially paralyze its target. It still had the same overall effect, just achieved through different means.

Yet, as convoluted as those interactions were, they became even more bizarre when mixed in with the two outliers among the sixteen elements –
holy and cursed magics. Unlike the rest, neither could exist on their own, and their inclusion in an incantation altered the effects of the other elements in ways that varied greatly depending on the source of the divine or malignant energy. Every Priest’s healing Spells would restore a certain amount of vitality, but might also bestow a secondary effect depending on the invoker’s faith. Lunar’s followers would imbue their target with a miniscule amount of MP whereas Goroth’s would provide a measure of protection against future harm. The same went for Paladins and Monks, as all their divine powers, whether it be Spells or Skills, carried their patron deity’s ‘flavor.’ Usually, these differences were quite minor, serving as little more than a type of branding.

Curses, on the other hand, had a much more telling impact on how magic behaved, often in ways that perverted or ignored the usual laws of the arcane. Boxxy tried to get a better grasp on this aberrant phenomenon by asking Nao about Fizzy’s Artifact-grade gauntlet. After hearing about her transformation, the wolfkin theorized its elemental make-up consisted of a mix of earth, cure, and curse. The latter pair were near-total opposites, so any magic that combined them was bound to be bizarre and unpredictable.

Or miraculous, depending on one’s point of view. The wolfkin was quite excited to hear about the mithril golem’s situation and eager to study her
and her shield-gauntlet, but was immediately disappointed to learn both were absent and wouldn’t return anytime soon. Incidentally, this line of questioning also revealed that curative magic could be used maliciously in order to deform or mutate a living creature, which stoked the shapeshifter’s creative cruelty. It was probably for the best that it didn’t have the means to act on any of the twisted ideas it got.

On the whole, Nao’s explanation of the sixteen elements was a wonderfully detailed talk befitting someone who aspired to become the greatest scholar of their generation. Unfortunately, he was a bit of a crap teacher. His lectures often got far too technical for someone as uninitiated as Keira, so much of the information sailed squarely over Boxxy’s head. The monster was able to grasp the gist of it, at least. It had learned enough to at least hazard a guess as to what was going on with the ridiculous phenomena it ran into on occasion. One practical example was that it now understood why the Beyond-related Spells gained through the Demonic Insight Skill were the way they were. The abnormally long chants and bizarre mental gymnastics required to cast them were necessary because they tapped into the reality-warping energies of the demonic realm and mingled them into Terrania’s mana. This alien element was also why none of those Spells completely conformed to the conventional framework of magic that Keira was still learning about. Well, ‘deciphering’ was perhaps a more apt term considering Nao’s inability to concisely convey theoretical knowledge, but today’s lesson was primarily a practical one.

“Alright, now let’s try this one last time,” he said towards the end of it. “Try putting some more vigor behind the trigger phrase this time around, it’ll help solidify the mental image.”

Keira nodded in response and turned her attention towards the troll-shaped wooden dummy at the other end of the practice range, some fifteen meters away. She gripped the practice staff she was given tightly and pointed it at the statue while keeping it level at her hip. She then took a deep breath and began uttering the words of power while focusing on the mental image of a room’s worth of air being stuffed into a marble-sized container.

“Twisted, turned, and packaged tight, behold the winds’ compacted might!

Air Hammer!”

A green-tinted, transparent lump of compressed air shot out of the staff and flew into the inanimate target. It crashed into it with a dull thud and a concussive gust of wind that made the troll doll wobble violently for a second before it settled down.

“Maaan! Still can’t knock it down!” she whined. “You sure I should be able to do that?”

“Quite so. Even a Level 15 Wizard should be able to kick over a hollow carving of that size with a decent Air Hammer.”

“Then what gives?!”

“Your chanting is on point, but your mental images are still sloppy,” he sternly stated. “I guess I was wrong for thinking that blowing wind at a dummy would be natural for an airhead like you.”

“… If you’re going to be snarky about getting dumped, you need to get better material,” the girl pouted.

“I’m still working on it, give me a day or two. I was serious about the first part, though. You need more visualization practice.”

What the Hero of Magic didn’t know, however, was that Boxxy was

‘visualizing’ the Air Hammer exactly how it wanted to. The shapeshifter never once struggled with that part, actually, ever since it first got the Warlock Job. The knowledge of a Spell was like a recipe or a blueprint. All it had to do was follow the formula and execute the mental and verbal motions. It wasn’t sure whether it was because of this polymagus thing or not, but it used to struggle more with the chanting than the imagery. It honestly had no idea how anyone could find the mental portion difficult, yet most people did, according to its tutor.

Could it be that Boxxy was a genius at magic all along?

Wild fantasies aside, if the shapeshifter were to cast Spells like normal, the resulting Air Hammer would’ve done a lot more than knock over a wooden troll. It would rip it to splinters and maybe even punch a hole through the reinforced wall behind it. As such, Boxxy had been intentionally sabotaging its mental image to bring its considerable mystic might to a fraction of its actual strength. It took some trial and a lot of error, but it had mostly nailed down how much it needed to ‘muddy the waters’ so that Keira’s magic
didn’t seem more powerful than it should be. It was actually rather proud of how accurate its inaccuracy had become.

“Should I try again?” asked the redhead.

“I dunno,” said Nao, scratching his cheek. “We’ve been at it for a while.

You really should stop here for the day.”

“I have plenty of MP left, though.”

“Magic stresses the body and the mind just like any form of physical exercise. You need to pace yourself.”

“I’m a Ranger, though. My conditioning is a lot better than your average weak-bodied twinkle-fingers. No offense.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Keira. Even if you think you have the power to keep conjuring Spells without end, the build-up of mental fatigue can creep up on you and trip you up when you least expect it. Or worse, you could subconsciously develop some bad habits to cope with it. Much as with physical training, overworking your magical muscles is counter-productive, so let’s stop here for the day.”

“…”

However, the catgirl did not answer, as she was too busy spacing out.

Something about Nao’s words had caused a particular phrase to resurface in Boxxy’s mind.

“Keira?” he called out, snapping the doppelganger back to its senses.

“… Sorry, I tuned out for a sec,” she replied as she put away the practice staff.

“Is something the matter?”

“No! Well… Yes. There is, actually.”

The jolt to the monster’s memory from a few seconds ago had shaken loose a certain phrase it had heard in passing and only amongst veteran adventurers. It was something it had offhandedly dismissed at the time as unrelated to itself since it was a ‘people problem,’ but in retrospect could potentially be related to its recent drowsiness and temper issues.

“Is it something I can help with in any way?” Nao offered.

“I don’t know if you can,” answered Keira, “but I’ll ask you anyway. Have you ever heard of power creep?”

Part Six

“Power creep?” repeated Nao. “Hmm… The phrase does ring a bell, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I think she means that PMS thing, bro,” Kuro butted in from the side.

“Oh! Right, of course!” he exclaimed with a clap.

“I see, I see, so that’s how it was,” said the catgirl with a smile and a nod as she casually unsheathed the mithril dagger at her waist. “So, you two want to get cut after all, don’t you?”

“What?! No! C-c-calm down Keira! Kuro was just kidding! Let’s put the shiny knife away and talk about this!”

“Sorry, that joke was a bit overboard,” she immediately apologized. “I’ve just had it with that guy’s attitude.”

Even if Boxxy knew he wasn’t serious, the terrible timing triggered a fit of anger which it failed to contain completely. Suggesting that its health issues were somehow caused by Keira’s menstrual cycle was ludicrous. Under normal circumstances, the shapeshifter would’ve just brushed it off, but Kuro’s talent for pushing its buttons was already at VIP level.

“In my defense, that one wasn’t on purpose,” claimed the culprit. “It’s just that this guy isn’t all that familiar with adventurer jargon.”

“Yeah, I usually let Kuro handle the talking with strangers.”

“Okay, fair enough. Wait, how come he wasn’t around when you visited my house?”

“I was, actually, but, uh, I got a bit lost,” he admitted reluctantly.

“… Lost?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, then I have to hear this! No, wait! Let me guess. You… slipped on some ice and fell off a street branch?”

“It was your fault actually,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, right. That was before we even met, dumbass.”

“Ugh, fine,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you, just don’t go all knifey-wifey on me.”

Keira’s mischievous smirk disappeared as her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because when you and Nao first met, I was with your girlfriend. She’s quite the woman, and I didn’t know she was taken, so I tried to hit on her.

Ended up going with her on that shopping trip and didn’t get the message that she was never going to be interested until we were on the ground. Then the Clash warning popped up, she disappeared in a huff, and left me in the middle of a crowd with no idea how to get back to your place.”

“You lost her?” Keira was in disbelief. “But you’re a Berserker and she’s just an Alchemist! How do you lose someone like that?!”

“She’s a local,” he shrugged. “She knows all the shortcuts and back alleys, not to mention the timing to those funky flying platforms around here.”

“Wow. I am almost speechless,” Keira shook her head. “You are, like, the worst bodyguard ever.”

“To be fair,” butted in Nao, “I was the one who asked him to go. The city seemed peaceful enough, and I thought I’d be perfectly fine in that out-of-the-way house while he got to know the area. Plus, my visit was pretty low profile, so very few people knew I was even here until you showed up with that impeccable timing only a Hero of Chaos can pull off. Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, I sent him a Message to stay away lest he complicate things even further.”

“… Oh. Yeah, alright, I guess that makes sense. Wait, when did you send a message? I didn’t see a Comm-crystal or anything.”

“No, no, a Message, as in the Psionic Spell. Instant long-range telepathic communication. Picked it up about a year ago when I was visiting the southern continent. More importantly, I’m surprised you’re asking about Milton-Presley Syndrome.”

“Who-the-what-now?”

That term clearly confused both the inner shapeshifter and the outer catgirl.

“Milton-Presley Syndrome,” Nao repeated,” or MPS for short. Not PMS.

That’s… something else entirely. Point is, it should be far too early for you to worry about it.”

“That may be, but I still want to know more about it. I don’t want to be working with incomplete information if and when it becomes relevant.”

That was more or less the truth. Boxxy knew that power creep was something bad that happened if an adventurer grew too many Levels too quickly, but was otherwise completely ignorant on the subject. The monster never had any problems with its explosive growth, so it had no reason to worry about it. In retrospect, this might have been an oversight.

“I suppose someone with four Jobs is more susceptible to it than not,” Nao pondered while scratching his cheek. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but I’m a bit sketchy on some of the details. It’s been a long time since I last read about it, so I don’t trust my memory too much.”

“Oh. That’s okay. I’ll just look it up in the library or something.”

“There’s no need for that. I have one on hand, actually. Stand back a bit, if you don’t mind.”

Concentric rings of light shot out of the Hero of Magic, and Boxxy immediately recognized the pattern as the Summon Familiar Skill. The shapeshifter was stunned to see it second-hand and wasn’t sure how to react, but it managed to keep its cool this time around. Keira had been in the company of other people’s familiars before, so it would likely be fine. Even if the ‘Boxxy Show’ was popular on the other side, Hamilton had forbidden any denizens of the Beyond from divulging anything they might have seen to mortals. Its secret was probably not in any direct danger, but it still undid the MLG hidden in Keira’s torso. It was a precaution just in case the one called out was a beholder that might be asked to scan the room for anomalies.

This proved a wise decision, as the demon that popped out of thin air did indeed look like one. He had marble white skin, a single giant eye with a triangular blue iris, and a total of six eye pods hovering around its floating head of a body about one and a half meters in diameter. He didn’t seem all
that impressive at first glance, but Boxxy knew from its Demonology Skill that the peculiar shape of that eye and those hovering appendages signified this was no common demon. They were the tell-tale signs of a beholder that had Ranked Up into a gazer, and this revelation immediately put Boxxy on edge. This was the first time it had seen another Warlock with a Ranker for a familiar, so there was no way it wouldn’t grow more wary of Nao. The Hero of Magic had once more proven himself a threat in ways other than physical.

The demon took a brief look at his summoner and barely even glanced at Kuro, but his stare lingered on Keira and her forced smile for several seconds.

“Hah. Hahahaha! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA!”

He began laughing in a deep, booming voice.

“What is it this time, Ogbolg?” asked Nao, clearly miffed at this disrespectful behavior.

“Aaaah, it is nothing, master,” said the gazer with a toothy grin. “I was just thinking it would be amusing to watch you and that pretty face of yours get ripped apart by a vicious monster in a dark cave. A creature that is like nightmares made real – a merciless whirlwind of steel, teeth, and death.”

This guy, is he TRYING to expose me?! Boxxy panicked inwardly.

“Tch, that fat-head’s still quite the charmer, ain’t he?” Kuro chimed in again.

“He… does this every time?” asked Keira.

“Pretty much,” confirmed Nao. “Ogbolg dislikes me since I only use him to remember stuff in my stead. He talks big, but I keep him on a tight leash, so he’s harmless.”

“Foolish mortal! We’ll see who is harmless when the unspeakable horrors of the Beyond pour through the gates of this reality, eager to tear into your magic-rich blood and devour your very-!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure I’ll suffer greatly,” he said dismissively. “Now shut up about that and tell us everything you know about Milton-Presley Syndrome.”

“… The phenomenon formally referred to as Milton-Presley Syndrome and is colloquially known as ‘power creep’ or ‘leveling fatigue’ is the anomalous occurrence whereby an overabundance of physical and/or mental amplification and/or augmentation begins to overextend the legitimate and essential characteristics of an organism’s corporeal form, whether organic or inorganic in nature. Research into the condition was spearheaded by the humans Ashor Milton and Jennifer Presley, for which it was ultimately and officially named after, despite being widely known as

‘power creep’ or ‘leveling fatigue’ within the various non-scholastic circles and communities for centuries prior.”

“Let’s take a seat,” Nao whispered to Keira. “This will take a while.”

The two of them parked their rears on the bench next to Kuro’s as the demon continued divulging the requested information. However, his dull, drawn-out tone of voice, combined with the needlessly pretentious wording and pointless tautologies, threatened to put his listeners to sleep. It was far, far worse than his master’s lectures. Kuro failed to resist and dozed off in his seat, but the other two were not so easily swayed. The Hero of Magic was actively paying attention and occasionally took notes while Boxxy did its best to decipher every syllable. The doppelganger knew it was probably a lost cause, but nevertheless attempted to get the full scoop. This matter was far more important than its magic lessons, and it desperately wanted to find out more than ‘too many Levels too quickly can be bad.’

As it turned out, that statement was not entirely accurate, but not completely false, either. According to the lecture, MPS manifested itself whenever an adventurer gained too many permanent Attribute bonuses regardless of their source. Those gains dwelled within the body and amplified certain mental, physical, and spiritual traits. However, such supernatural luxuries were not without their burdens or limits. There was only so much ‘boosting’ a living being could take before the cumulative stress upon the body caused side-effects to manifest. It was more than a little plausible that Boxxy could have contracted this condition following its recent Cadaver Absorption spree.

Unfortunately, that was all the creature was able to gather before it lost track of the presentation. The deluge of words pouring out of Ogbolg’s mouth were extremely difficult to follow along and understand. Terms like

‘fait accompli,’ ‘arcanophilogical’ or ‘ventral superluminal resistance’ in particular made it seem like the demon was speaking in a foreign language.

The whole thing was likely the gazer’s attempt at malicious compliance. He was technically fulfilling his master’s orders, but was trying to do it in a way that rendered the exercise largely pointless.

Yet, Nao didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest as he continued scribbling in his notebook despite Ogbolg’s unceasing stream of verbal diarrhea.

Whether it was because he understood all the technical mumbo jumbo or because he was used to the demon’s shenanigans was unclear, but Boxxy couldn’t help but be impressed. The Hero of Magic didn’t even wait for the gazer demon to finish his lecture before he cut him off, tore out a page from his booklet and handed it to a thoroughly confused Keira.

“Here.”

“Uh, what?”

“Ogbolg likes to use big words to confuse people, so I took the liberty of jotting down the important bits without all the filler.”

“Oh? Lemme see!”

The catgirl took the piece of paper and eagerly gave it a once over.

Power creep / Leveling fatigue / MPS

Varies between individuals, but usually starts at around 2,500-3,000 AP

(Attribute Points) in non-rankers. Which symptoms manifest first depends on AP distribution. MPS can easily be avoided by focusing only on 1 main

& 1 or 2 side Jobs, more than that is not advised. For reference: Lv 50 Job

+ max Skills = 700~800 AP; Lv 100 equiv. = 1,700~1,900 AP.

Stage 1 – Occurs 1-3 days after exceeding AP limit. Causes relatively minor problems similar to potion sickness. Do not ignore these if they persist for more than a few days!

Symptoms: lethargy, sore joints, mood swings, difficulty concentrating, tooth pain/decay.

Stage 2 – Occurs 400-500 AP after Stage 1. MPS starts getting worse over time from here on out, even if no AP is gained.

Symptoms: blurry vision, partial deafness, periodic numbness of left side of body, alchemical intolerance, reduced effect of healing Spells received.

Stage 3 – Occurs 200-300 AP or 30-40 days after Stage 2. This is where the brain starts being affected.

Symptoms: memory loss (short & long term), dementia, blacking out, sleepwalking, spasms

Stage 4 – Occurs 7-10 days after Stage 3 sets in regardless of AP gain in interim. MPS becomes terminal, incurable, and untreatable if allowed to progress this far.

Symptoms: full body paralysis, coma, death, in that order.

Treatment options:

1. Grow up – Those under the age of 15 are far more susceptible to MPS
than adults. AP tolerance continues to slowly increase until 19-20 years of age for most enlightened.

2. Bulk up – Physical conditioning through exercise and diet has been shown to raise AP tolerance by 10-20%. DO NOT USE ALCHEMICAL

SUPPLEMENTS FOR THIS!!

3. Job Removal – bit extreme, but AP reduction is the quickest and surest way to get rid of MPS. Highly recommended for stage 2 sufferers.

4. Rank Up – Raises AP tolerance by a factor of 2 (double all the AP
numbers above). Can theoretically cure Stage 4, but no confirmed cases.

Boxxy greedily soaked in all the concisely written information and began processing it. It wasn’t sure how much it could trust those numbers since they were extrapolated from data on enlightened adventurers. A monster would surely have different AP limits, especially one that had Ranked Up three times, including a species change. At the same time, its Attribute scores totaled around 7,300 – two-to-three times more than the average enlightened tolerance. More than 500 of those had been acquired during the aforementioned Status-bloating excursion. With staggering numbers like that, and considering its symptoms mostly matched up with those listed here, there was no room for doubt. Boxxy was suffering from the initial stages of power creep.

With the diagnosis out of the way, the next question was obvious – how could it address this? Aside from the obvious desire not to make this MPS
thing worse, it also hated being temperamental and constantly feeling tired.

It wanted to get back to normal post-haste, yet all of the treatment options listed would either take far too long or, in the case of the third, required a significant sacrifice. That said, reading all this gave the monster an idea for a potential fifth method to alleviate its power creep. It should work in theory, and Boxxy was eager to test it in practice, but that would have to wait until tonight. It still had a Hero’s favor to curry.

“Oh my word!” Keira exclaimed. “You managed to get all of this from that?! And in such clean, beautiful handwriting, too! Nao, you’re amazing!”

“Ah-hah,” he laughed awkwardly at the sincere compliment. “W-well, I knew a good deal already. Just had to double-check my numbers.”

“Still, I really appreciate you helping me out even though I shut you down earlier. I really don’t know what to say other than thank you! You’re the best!”

The catgirl leaned over and gave the beastkin a quick peck on the cheek.

“You’re gonna make some woman very happy one day,” she added with a brilliant smile.

“… Sure it can’t be you?” asked the blushing wolf-boy.

“I’m pretty certain I’d know if I developed a craving for men over the last two hours,” she rolled her eyes. “But, if that happens in the future, you’d be the first to know.”

“Uh, thanks? I guess?”

“Pfaaahahahaha!”

The gazer demon abruptly burst out laughing, clearly aware of the literal man-eater hidden behind Keira’s cheerful demeanor. The sudden, loud noise made Kuro stir from his drivel-induced coma. The Berserker glanced around the mostly empty practice range in a bout of panic, then mumbled something about ‘five more minutes’ and went back to napping.

“Your pain shall be legendary, whelp!” Ogbolg shouted in-between fits of guffawing. “I shall forever treasure your inevitable demise!”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” declared the demon’s master. “Away you go!”

With that, the security risk in the room had been forcibly dismissed and sent back whence he came, much to Boxxy’s relief.

“Again, don’t worry about him,” Nao turned back to Keira. “Attitude is all he has, and I’m never sure how to handle it. I’d tell him to shut up altogether, but that would defeat the purpose of using him as a portable personal library.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I already know all demons are jerks.

Frankly speaking, I’m surprised you even have a familiar. You know, you could’ve told me you were a Warlock.”

“I don’t consider myself one. I stopped advancing the Job at Level 16, as I only cared about the knowledge offered by the Demonology Skill. The only reason I have Summon Familiar is because it’s a prerequisite. I figured I might as well make use of the ability while I have it. I ended up relying on Ogbolg more than I expected since he is very convenient to have around.”

“Oh, for sure. I don’t know how Mr. S keeps his demons in line, but they’re definitely effective. Though, I much prefer your way of handling familiars.

It’s refreshing to see a demon used for something constructive rather than destructive.”

“Thanks. I just wish everyone else was as understanding as you,” he added while furrowing his brows. “People who catch wind of me having Summon Familiar take one look at my boyish face and instantly assume I’m a hormonal teenager who wanted a succubus for immoral purposes. It’s quite frustrating to explain I only have Ogbolg.”

“Sounds troublesome. How come you don’t have more demons, though?

Seems odd to have the potential yet not use it.”

“… I’m afraid of what would happen if I have to keep tabs on more than one of them. I’m not very perceptive. Or attentive. Or confident. Or strong-willed.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she interrupted the one-man pity parade. “But even if it’s one at a time, having more options couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, no offense to Kuro, but look at him.”

The bodyguard was still quietly snoring while laying down on the neighboring bench.

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about him. Looking after me can be a bit demanding, so he needs to get all the sleep he can,” deflected Nao. “You’re actually to blame for that, you know. We were supposed to remain incognito during our stay here, but your dramatic return kind of blew it.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose,” the redhead deflected. “Besides, that still doesn’t change the fact that you can never be too careful, and sleeping on the job is downright irresponsible.”

“Might seem that way to you, but I trust Kuro to know his limits. He has a good nose for danger, so he’ll wake up the instant he feels a threat is near.

Not that anyone with malicious intents can reach us down here in the Consortium’s basement.”

“… Someone like Mr. S could probably do it.”

“Well, yeah, but Kuro wouldn’t be a match for such a person anyway.”

“But he might be if he had backup,” Keira argued. “Like a fiend. They’re super strong and tough. Or maybe one of those spider-things could cover you from a dark corner. Even Oldblob, or whatever his name was, could see the threat coming before it gets here, giving you time to escape. Though they might not be all that powerful and you may be wary of using more than one at a time, your familiars can still keep watch. They don’t need food or sleep or bathroom breaks, so they’re perfect for the job!”

Nao opened his mouth and raised a finger in protest, but couldn’t argue with the validity of her point. Using bound demons as sentries and guards was by no means a strange concept. Just like Keira said, they were uniquely well-suited to such duties. It was also possible that, should his gazer be given something more to do in the physical realm than just retaining and divulging information, he might actually mellow out a bit. The Sandman himself had supposedly earned genuine loyalty from his familiars, and, given his achievements and reputation, he likely accomplished this by indulging in their constant need for violence and entertainment. That approach wasn’t unheard of, but it did have its drawbacks. The most notable one was that the summoner had to be an unbelievably scummy piece of shit to build a favorable rapport with the Beyond’s denizens.

Nao was certain he didn’t have what it took to venture down that path, but suspected there was more to the Sandman’s methods. If the vigilante-
turned-mercenary truly was an irredeemable bad guy, then his reputation would surely be far, far worse. More importantly, Keira clearly respected the man despite her reservations, perhaps even trusted him. Given all she’d been through as Hero of Chaos, it couldn’t have been easy to earn her approval. Her words carried weight because they came from a place of experience and uncanny insight. She had fought at the notorious Warlock’s side and was an expert in dealing with unforeseen consequences. To the spunky redhead, the unexpected was a way of life. Having seen Chaotic Disposition flare up time and again, Nao could only imagine how unsettling and upsetting her patron’s influence could be once Agent of Chaos started manipulating events. Yet, judging from what he’d seen and heard, Keira handled each incident with far more poise and grace than he ever could.

Well, aside from the occasional fit of strangely creative swearing.

Bottom line, Nao would be a fool if he dismissed her sincere concerns regarding his personal safety.

“Yeah, you may have a point,” he said after mulling things over. “I’ll think about it.”

[Your actions have altered the flows of chaos.]

“… Oh, crap.”

It would appear that Keira’s gentle nudge had set in motion a chain of events that, given the context, would probably have a profound impact on the Hero of Magic. This entire conversation was supposed to be Boxxy offering some helpful hints free of charge, as it seriously wanted Nao kept alive. He had been such a wonderful source of information that it would honestly be a shame if he were to bite the big one, especially after all the effort it put into buttering him up. The shapeshifter wasn’t going to risk its life for the guy, but it wouldn’t mind stopping an assassination plot or two if it happened to stumble upon them. However, a weakling like Nao was unlikely to emerge unscathed once the flows of chaos had their way with him.

“What is it Keira? Did something happen?”

It was therefore probably for the best to inform the Hero of Magic he was in for a wild ride. While the outcome of Agent of Chaos was largely unpredictable, the existence of free will meant that it wasn’t set in stone. It
could possibly be steered towards a relatively favorable direction so long as one knew that ‘something’ was coming. Of course, the mere act of notifying the man might backfire and make things worse, but it would probably be better if he was on high alert for the time being.

“Remember the Agent of Chaos thing I mentioned? It just popped up in my head, so I think you need to be extremely careful how you handle the familiar thing.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“…”

The two stared at each other in total silence, but it didn’t seem to be a bout of quiet contemplation regarding an uncertain near future. It was more of the ‘nice day, isn’t it?’ sort of atmosphere.

“… So?” asked the catgirl.

“Hmm? What?”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?”

“About the Agent of Chaos!”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, it just activated.”

“What did?”

“The Agent of Chaos Skill!”

“I don’t follow.”

“Argh! Listen to me!” she screamed, shaking him by the collar. “I’m telling you some weird shit is about to go down!”

“Hey, hey, hey! Put him down!”

As if on cue, Kuro woke from his nap and instantly separated the two, putting himself between them.

“What’s gotten into ya this time, runt?” he snarled at Keira.

“Nothing! The problem is your brother’s being way too dense!” she insisted. “I’m trying to warn him something extreme is going to happen to him, but he won’t listen!”

“Him being a bit slow is hardly cause for you to accost him like that,” he said sternly. “You already know he can’t deal with violent women. You should be helping him overcome that, not making it worse.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is it, ya psycho?”

She kept trying to warn them over and over, but the message wasn’t sinking in regardless of how she phrased it. The way her words refused to stick to either of their minds made it seem as if they were literally going in one ear and out the other. Since speech wasn’t working, the crafty catgirl tried writing down her warning instead. That was also met with repeated failure.

Either the quill would snap, the page would tear, or the ink would splotch and render the message illegible. The one time Keira succeeded in making a proper note, Kuro sneezed and absentmindedly wiped his nose with it, then balled up the paper and binned it.

Boxxy gave up at this point. It had quickly deduced that these communication issues were Cornelia’s doing, but only now realized that no amount of effort on its part would overcome that bucket’s divine influence.

It spared a thought about what could’ve warranted this interference and remembered that, by his own admission, the God of Gambling hated spoilers. It wasn’t hard to imagine this attitude extended to Agent of Chaos.

The enigmatic Skill’s creator wouldn’t want to have its extraordinary outcome averted, diluted, or otherwise ruined by having others aware that things were in motion. It would appear that if Boxxy wanted to influence the enigmatic flows of chaos, it had to personally do so through action rather than words. Unfortunately, the shapeshifter had no idea how to do that. Keira had already wasted ten minutes trying and failing to issue a warning that ‘some funky shit is about to go down,’ and all she had to show for her efforts were a pair of thoroughly confused wolf-men.

“What’s this really about, Keira?” demanded Nao. “I know we’ve not known each other for very long, but this sort of cryptic attitude doesn’t
seem like you.”

No. I’m being extremely direct with you right now, Boxxy mentally retorted.

I’m being so honest that it actually hurts a little.

The shapeshifter wasn’t even sure if it wanted to get involved anymore, so it just shifted the topic to something else entirely.

“… Okay, I’ll stop beating around the bush and say it. I want to find out what happens if we fully charge and set off the maybe-Divine item I showed you when we first met.”

That statement didn’t really match up with the conversation thus far, but it expected Vladimir’s cognitive interference would fill in the gaps.

“Ah, I see. Hmm…”

That was precisely what happened, given Nao’s thoughtful reaction. This was fortunate. Boxxy had no idea what was about to happen to the innocent Hero, but at the very least it wanted to take advantage of him while it had the chance. That was why it brought up the topic of that pink gem. No amount of examination was able to reveal a single thing about that blasted stone’s properties or function. By Nao’s own words, the only method left that didn’t include a convenient divine revelation from the big brick himself was to set it off and see what happened.

“I’d really like that, to be honest. Dangerous or not, I’m itching to learn its secrets.”

“Here we go again,” the elder wolfkin rolled his eyes. “You and that mystery fetish of yours are gonna be the death of one or both of us. This one smells especially fishy. You know what they say about curiosity and cats, right?”

“Careful Kuro, you’re starting to sound like Ogbolg.”

Nao paused briefly as he finished piecing together his thoughts, then turned to the girl.

“Alright Keira, tell you what. I don’t feel confident about setting that thing off ourselves, but it should be fine if we ask Lady Imiryl for assistance”

“Are you… sure that’s wise?”

Keira was clearly skeptical, and Kuro silently agreed.

“Why wouldn’t it be? She’s got a much better sense for obscure enchantments than I do, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to lend us her expertise and insight.”

“If that’s the case, then let’s go see her right away.”

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “she’s currently away on guild business and won’t be back until a day or two after the new year celebration.”

“More like she’s off to booze it up where her drunken self will cause the least amount of collateral damage,” mumbled Kuro, shuddering slightly.

“The last time I saw her party it up, she turned the Seven Spires of Solitude into the Seven Piles of Rubble. Spent five fucking months cleaning that up.”

“Huh. Hey, Nao?” Keira’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you were saying something about putting mountains back together?”

“Uh… that’s not relevant right now,” he clumsily deflected. “My point was that we should wait for her to return before we do anything else.”

He also mumbled something along the lines of, ‘if she’s sober,’ but Boxxy pretended not to hear. It had a more pressing question.

“Wait, you said a few days after the new year? Will you still be here when she comes back?”

“Where else would I be?”

“I thought you had to leave in, like, four days from now.”

“Yes? You do realize the new year starts the day after tomorrow, right?”

Keira’s eyes opened so wide one would think they were trying to escape the confines of her face.

“I completely forgot!” she shrieked.

With all the travelling, magic lessons, fruitless Foundation baiting, and power creep troubles, Boxxy had completely lost track of the date. It wasn’t like the turn of the year held any special significance to the monster. It was just another day in the calendar as far as it was concerned. However, it was
a very special day for Keira, who was supposed to join her girlfriend’s family for the festivities.

“I need to buy presents for Rowie and her folks! I should also get something for my guildmates! I don’t even have a dress! Or shoes! Oh no, I even promised I’d get my hair done, but I haven’t made an appointment! I can’t waste my time here!”

The hyperactive catgirl paced around in a circle as she listed off all the things she neglected to arrange then abruptly turned on her heel and ran towards the exit. She already had a foot out the door before Nao realized what was happening.

“Wait, hold up!” he called out to Keira, stopping her in her tracks.

“What?! Oh, sorry about this, but I really need to get going!”

“Can I borrow that mithril dagger you, uh, showed me earlier?”

The catgirl cocked an eyebrow, then unsheathed the weapon from her belt and held it up for all to see.

“You mean this?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I want to run some experiments on it.”

“What kind of experiments?”

“Oh, nothing special. Just some minor things to satisfy my curiosity.”

“… Can you swear my shin- my treasure will survive your ‘curiosity?’ I just got it on my last adventure, you know.”

Keira’s Boxxy-ness very nearly spilled out in the middle, but she managed to keep her act together. Despite what its Facade stated, that weapon had been the shapeshifter’s constant companion for almost as long as Snack and Arms. It wasn’t as if it was especially attached to the blade, but it definitely had a bit more sentimental value than other pieces in its collection. Having it ruined in some magical malfunction would not be tasty at all.

“I’ll return it better than new,” promised Nao. “Even if I somehow break it, I’ll make sure to replace it.”

“… I’ll hold you to that. Hey, Kuro!”

Keira flipped the weapon in her hand and grabbed it by the blade with three fingers.

“Catch!”

She abruptly threw it at the towering Berserker a bit faster than she should have, though he managed to catch it by the handle before it embedded in his leg.

“Hey, watch it!” he yelled back. “Were you trying to- Aaaaaand she’s gone.”

The frantic catgirl had already shut the door on her way out, long before he could finish voicing his complaint.

“… Must be nice,” Nao lamented.

“What is?”

“Having so many people to give gifts to.”

“Meh. Seems like just a waste of time, energy, and money if you ask me. I don’t need some fancy holiday to go get pissed with my buddies, you know?”

The younger wolfkin ignored the snide comments as he took the old yet tenderly cared for weapon in his hands with a soft smile. He wasn’t initially sure why his patron insisted coming here would be a learning experience, but now he understood. One could study arcane sigils, ancient artifacts, and peculiar pink gems all they wanted, but it was people who remained the biggest mystery of all. And Keira? She was one of the big ones. Just like a book that always had another page, he couldn’t help but feel there was more to her than he could ever know. Her enigmatic personality was what initially intrigued him, though the pretty face, nice figure, flawless skin, and cheerful demeanor certainly helped draw him in further. It was a shame their relationship didn’t pan out as he hoped, but he only had his ignorance to blame. On the bright side, though his attempt at romance had failed, Keira and Nao had already formed a special bond. It was regrettable he’d
have to part ways with his new friend so soon, but he’d be damned if he didn’t leave the quirky redhead with a fittingly unique gift to remember him by.

“Come on, Kuro. I’m eager to find out how much mana it can hold!”

Namely, an enchantment that only a truly inspired Hero of Magic could produce.

“Just take it easy with this one, okay? My knee still hurts from the last time you had that ‘inspired’ look in your eye.”

“Oh, nonsense! We got all the shrapnel out, didn’t we? Besides, that axe was steel, not mithril. It’ll go much better this time around. In theory.”

Provided the weapon survived the treatment, of course.

Interlude

A Family Reunion

It was a cold, windy evening four days before the Necromancers of the Order of the Black Wand were fated to be wiped out at Aynor Keep. Two demons traversed a snow-covered forest together, albeit with drastically different methods. One bulldozed her way through it, knocking over trees and ploughing through rocks as if she was paving the way for a new section of highway. The other hovered silently above the treetops, massaging her temples at the annoying cacophony coming from below.

“You sure this the right place?” asked Kora impatiently. “I don’t see shit around here!”

“I’m sure of it,” replied Xera. “I’ve not visited in a long while, but it should definitely be- Yes! I see it!”

The djinn spotted their destination from her elevated vantage point. Flying everywhere was quite convenient, and Kora couldn’t help but be envious.

This was mostly because she wanted to drop down on things from a few hundred meters to see them go splat. It was more a source of entertainment than a tactical advantage. She found it a crying shame that her slutty colleague had all the fun on the road. Still, the archfiend didn’t complain too much since Xera was able to successfully guide them to where they needed to go on their master’s behalf. The red-skinned demoness made her way through the pinewood forest with renewed vigor until she wound up in a secluded valley with rolling snow-covered hills on the horizon.

A settlement stood in the middle of this oddly serene scenery, though perhaps ‘village’ was too strong a word. There were barely thirty houses here, and all of them looked to be quite old, if well-maintained. The hamlet looked like it wouldn’t reach a hundred people even in its prime, which had obviously passed long ago. It only had a few dozen living in it at present, indicated by the sparse number of pedestrians milling about in broad daylight. However, this was no mere collection of country bumpkins, as any visitor would immediately notice a few odd things about the residents. They certainly weren’t the usual rural peasants one might expect. Rather than a
bunch of middle-aged or elderly rural folk, the hamlet was filled with nothing but nubile women in their prime. Pretty faces, vibrant hair styles, bewitching figures, revealing clothing – it was a cornucopia of beauty entirely unbefitting a settlement this far in the sticks. They also had simple yet sensual outfits that showed a lot of smooth skin that bore none of the blemishes associated with menial labor. These lovely ladies radiated so much class and appeal that they seemed like they’d fit right in with both the nobles’ quarter of the royal capital. That or its premium pleasure district.

Either way, it was obvious they didn’t belong in such humble and aging surroundings.

Attractive appearances aside, their attitude was also quite atypical.

Common sense dictated that they might want to seek shelter the instant they spotted a pair of wandering demons without an apparent summoner in sight.

This was doubly true for fiends, the most notorious and feared of rogue familiars. Yet, when Kora entered the village, she wasn’t met with fear, caution, or even curiosity.

“My, my, it seems the average Intelligence of the ranch suddenly dropped by a few dozen points.”

“How did she get here? Was it a fluke? It was probably a fluke.”

“Must be a stray bitch. It’s honestly a miracle a witless moron like that hasn’t forgotten her head yet.”

“To be fair, she’d probably be alright if she did. Her kind uses the head down below a lot more than the one up top anyway.”

“C’mon girls, give her some credit. She can walk and breathe at the same time, so she’s definitely better than your average fiend.”

“That’s not saying much when the average for their kind is so low I’d need a mole-beast to dig it up! Ah-hahahahah!”

The archfiend was being ridiculed and belittled from all sides. This naturally ticked her off, which she demonstrated by twisting her face into a snarl and letting out an aggressive growl. Any more of this and she would surely start killing, pillaging, and raping everything in sight, despite coming here with peaceful intentions. Well, ‘peaceful’ by her standards, at the very least.

“Take it easy, fuck-for-brains! I told you to wait for me at the outskirts!”

Kora’s rage was just about to boil over from all the insults and jeering when Xera descended. She had disguised her true nature as a djinn by presenting herself as the succubus she used to be. The sight of the winged demoness as she floated down, slapped the back of the fiend’s head, then casually sat on her shoulder instantly silenced the crowd of women. One of them, a blonde bombshell with bright blue eyes wearing a frilly apron and little else, stepped forward.

“Xerababadubuth,” she spoke in a cold tone. “I see you have returned to us.”

The not-a-succubus smiled sweetly and nodded in greeting while still seated atop the archfiend’s shoulder.

“I have indeed,” she replied respectfully.

“And what of your… baggage?”

“Baggage?!” snapped Kora. “You’ll be the one with baggage when-!”

*SMACK*

“Shut it, jizz-nozzle!” Xera yelled after another slap to the scalp. “You’re speaking to your betters! Just stick to our deal and let me handle this!”

The fiend snarled lightly but didn’t say anything. The demoness on her shoulder turned towards the blonde woman and offered a light bow.

“I apologize for this cretin’s rudeness. I just sort of picked her up after we ditched our summoner. I hope it won’t be too much of a problem.”

The lady raised an eyebrow in wonderment, but decided there were far more important things to address before dealing with the random musclebrain intruding on her territory.

“Rejoice my children!” she yelled out with a wide smile. “For your sister has returned to us!”

All of the women suddenly erupted into cheers, each firing off various Spells high up into the air like fireworks. Xera looked on happily, letting nostalgia overwhelm her as she couldn’t help but feel somewhat elated at this extravagant welcome.

“It is good to be back, mother,” she said with a wide smile.

“It is good to have you back, child,” the blonde responded in kind. “Now, would you be so kind as to explain the… thing you brought.”

“Ah, I suppose introductions are in order. Everyone! I’d like you to meet my new toy! Her name is… uh… What was it again?”

“It’s Koralenteprix, you insufferable whore!” snapped the fiend.

“Koralenteprix Khusuuszun Caonthioxxaa!”

“Yeah, that. She may be dumber than she looks, but she still has her uses. I believe she could be of service to you and my sisters, mother, which is why I have brought her here.”

This den of demons was filled to the brim with unbound succubi from all across the continent, brought together by the demon called Yuukhiolelelari L’okrelaila. ‘Yuu’ was no mere succubus, but a higher form of demonic being known as an alcubus. It was the type of demon Xera would have normally Ranked Up into if not for the extraordinary circumstances through which she achieved her breakthrough. As expected of one who has reached the next level, Yuu could do things that low-class demons could not. One of those was the ability to make children, though the process was nothing like the mortals’ method of siring offspring. It required two Rankers working together to deliberately mold the raw negative emotions swimming in the Beyond into a new demonic being. The child would inherit some traits from both parents, but there was no mating, pregnancy, or conventional blood relations involved. Furthermore, it was more of a responsibility than a privilege since it was rare for intelligent demons to spawn from the emotional melting pot by themselves. Nor was it something exclusive to succubi as any combination of Rankers could perform the act, though it was traditionally carried out by a male-female pair.

However, though it lacked the physical aspects of mortal procreation, it was still a deeply intimate experience. Creating life from essentially nothing was no easy feat and required that each parent put a little bit of themselves into their progeny. It was only natural that the offspring of such a union would feel a certain fondness towards their kin, which was more often than not reciprocated. That was why demons, despite being inherently selfish,
devious, and treacherous, treated those they saw as family more favorably than others. Relatively speaking, of course.

“I have no need for dumb muscle, child,” Yuu coldly stated. “She’ll only jeopardize our cover should actual visitors show up.”

Even if one would imagine a den of succubi would be painfully obvious, mortals were much easier to deceive than they would like to admit. Any unwitting traveler that happened upon or, as was more often the case, was lured into this place would become instantly enamored by the otherworldly beauty around them. Even women who didn’t swing that way would find themselves charmed and taken in by the extravagance on display. In such a state, it would take them far too long to realize something was amiss before they were imprisoned, enthralled, or otherwise trapped here. But, that only worked so long as there was no obvious cause for suspicion, and a gigantic bright-red eyesore strutting around town was sure to ruin the illusion. While having a fiend would certainly bolster security, it was unnecessary since each and every demonic resident of this place was a formidable magic user in their own right. Any bandits or monsters that showed up with ill intentions were instantly obliterated, though this society of sorcerous seductresses tried to subdue the former whenever possible.

“I disagree, mother,” Xera insisted. “If I recall correctly, this place had a reoccurring problem. Tell me, is there still a chronic shortage of livestock?”

“… Indeed. No matter how many we capture and chain down, it is never enough for this ranch’s needs.”

Men caught in this honeytrap would be imprisoned in one of the hamlet’s basements and have their life force harvested for their captors’ enjoyment until they expired. Which, given the insatiable nature of demons, didn’t take longer than a week or two, three at most if the prisoner was especially sturdy. As for the women, aside from the odd squirter, they were usually brainwashed into thralls and made to do menial labor unless Yuu claimed them as her playthings. Even though she was originally a succubus with the same cravings as her daughters, the alcubus had developed some rather…

unique tastes over the centuries.

“Well, this is where dicks-on-legs comes in handy,” Xera smiled widely.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

She hopped off Kora’s shoulder and skillfully removed the fiend’s lower armor, revealing a pair of impressive meat poles standing at attention.

“It may not be the real deal,” explained the blue-skinned vixen, “but her spunk is quite enjoyable all the same. She has stamina and vitality in spades, so you can be sure she’ll last a looooong time.”

“Interesting. Though, I find it hard to believe an uppity fiend would just let us do as we please.”

“She has no choice in the matter, mother. I beat her in a Devil’s Gambit, so now she has to listen to me and do everything I say until one of us is sent back to the Beyond. See?”

She dug her nails into Kora’s shafts as hard as she could, but the fiend did nothing. She didn’t even wince in pain. Seeing the red one restrain herself despite the humiliation, Yuu and the rest of her brood found it quite difficult not to believe Xera’s story. Their common sense dictated that there was no way one of those meatheads would let anyone – least of all a succubus – get away with making a fool of them like that without going berserk.

Unless, of course, a Devil’s Gambit was involved. As the name implied, this was a wager overseen by a contractor from Demons ‘R’ Us, and the loser was forced to submit to whatever demands the winner had established.

The agreement was on par with summoning contracts in terms of strength and strictness, so it was the only plausible explanation for Xera and Kora’s supposed relationship the succubi could come up with. They’d think differently if any of them had seen a single episode of the Boxxy Show, but that was extremely unlikely. It had been a few years at least since any of them had returned to the Beyond, so it was a safe assumption that none of them knew of Charles’s latest Hero or its entourage.

“Is… is it really that good?” asked a red-haired bimbo from the sidelines.

“Fiend cum, I mean.”

“It’s not all that great when compared to sucking the life out of mortals,”

Xera shrugged, “but what she lacks in flavor she makes up for in volume.

The only problem is it takes a bit of effort to wring it out of her.”

“I wanna try!”

“No, me first!”

The redhead stepped forward while undoing her disguise, revealing her skin to be a light shade of pink and horns a shining onyx black. She was joined by a brunette that reverted to a pale-skinned, ivory-horned, angel-winged seductress. The two demonettes stepped forward while licking their lips and discarding what clothing they had. Like all succubi, they were voluptuous beauties born from the unfulfilled fantasies of countless mortal men. Yet, though undeniably attractive, the archfiend didn’t find either of them as hot as Teresa or Xera. Why was that, she wondered? Was it because she preferred to play with ‘claimed’ holes? Or, maybe she just liked the idea of being wanted by the thirsty goddess or the sexually frustrated djinn. Indeed, though she talked mad shit, her cerulean colleague didn’t hesitate to ask for a pounding whenever their Master wasn’t giving her enough attention. This was nearly all the time, considering how needy she was, and Kora was happy to oblige.

Whatever the case, these random bitches weren’t shit by comparison.

“You can share if you want, girls,” Xera said with a smile. “I’ve already told her she’s forbidden from resisting or harming any one of us, so knock yourselves out. Just keep in mind not to completely wear her out. She’s mine, m’kay?”

“Thanks for the meal!”

With a unified cry, the two ravenous succubi jumped the fiend and knocked her to the ground. Since they didn’t have Xera’s eccentricities, they didn’t even try to take those monstrous shafts inside them. Instead, they sandwiched both of them between their pillowy breasts and began licking and sucking on one each. Two more of their sisters joined in almost right away to assist with the lewd act, as there was still available dick to go around. The rest formed a messy line behind them, eager to try out this new plaything their wayward sister had brought before them while the demoness in question stood off to the side. There was one oddball among them that caught Xera’s attention. A succubus with luscious red skin to rival Kora’s grinned wickedly as she approached the fallen fiend’s head. She caressed her nether regions for a few moments before sitting on the much larger demon’s face with a sort of ‘since nobody else is using it’ demeanor. She ground her genitals into Kora’s nose and mouth while demanding she put
that useless tongue of hers to work. Judging from the ‘O’ shape her lips made the next instant, the fiend had begrudgingly complied.

“Huh, that’s unexpected,” the djinn remarked. “Since when is Pria into that sort of stuff?”

“Priadraossiuz has awakened since her last contract,” Yuu explained as she walked closer.

“Awakened? What do you mean?”

“Her summoner was apparently a lonely girl that had called on a succubus to relieve her desires, foolishly thinking herself safe due to her gender.

Long story short, that child learned the pleasure of being serviced orally and has been pursuing it ever since.”

“And this is… a good thing?”

“In a way. In my experience, succubi that have found and embraced their inner kink and eagerly chase after it are far more likely to Rank Up. But, then again, you already know all about that, don’t you?”

The ex-succubus stared wide-eyed at her mother, who simply gave her a knowing smirk.

“You cannot fool me so easily, silly child. Come, let us talk in private.”

The two demons left the scene just as Kora reached the first of what were bound to be countless orgasms. Her sizable load flew up into the air like she was some kind of perverted sprinkler, much to the joy of those around her.

It had been so long since they tasted the stuff that many of them found her supposedly subpar substance to be extremely sweet and gathered around her to ‘feed.’ The fiend wasn’t enjoying this in the slightest, however, as she was being treated like the bottom bitch. The ‘Devil’s Gambit’ may have been an excuse, but the fact still stood that her master’s standing orders prevented her from going against her co-contractor’s instructions.

Yuu and Xera left the developing orgy behind, venturing inside one of the better-looking houses to get some privacy. The older demon reverted to her true form, causing her figure to deflate at an almost alarming rate. She assumed the shape of a sweet-looking young girl on the cusp of womanhood who seemed to radiate innocence. Her blonde hair and blue
eyes remained the same while her already pale skin turned several hues whiter. Her naughty maid outfit transformed into a surprisingly chaste one-piece dress that enhanced the illusion of purity. Even the tiny black horns on the sides of her head and the miniature bat-like wings on her back looked cute rather than menacing. It was an appearance akin to a rare flower, something that demanded protection and elicited emotional attachment rather than sexual desire.

“Well?” she said demandingly. “Won’t you reveal your true self?”

Xera sighed in a defeated manner and undid her disguise. Her true form was the opposite of her mother’s, becoming even more stacked and obscenely dressed from the succubus form she was wearing moments before. Yuu raised an eyebrow at this visage, as she was able to confirm her daughter had indeed ascended, though not in the way she’d hoped.

“Well, that’s rather disappointing. I suppose I should’ve known you’d never follow in my footsteps.”

Her tone mirrored her words, though she wasn’t talking about the voluptuous body. Even though all succubi had the same overall shape, their natural appearances varied wildly after their Rank Ups. Yuu’s was the result of her lusting after cute young girls. It was by no means the standard fare.

In fact, most alcubi retained the buxom forms they had prior to their Rank Up, so she was definitely an oddity. However, Xera was clearly no longer of her kind. Her crown-like horns and exotic garb were a dead giveaway to Yuu’s experienced eyes, although she had more than just sight and intuition to go on.

“You know, I refused to believe it when I heard you’d turned djinn, but I’m not stupid enough to deny what’s in front of my eyes.”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I did, child! I acted along with the rest of your ignorant siblings since I didn’t want to spoil their fun or ruin that present you brought them.

You probably thought it would serve as a distraction while you butter me up, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I am a bit insulted you thought I would fall for it. Did you honestly believe I couldn’t immediately tell both of you had Ranked Up?”

“I don’t buy it. You’ve never had a nose for that stuff.”

“… Okay, you got me,” admitted Yuu with a cheeky smile. “I was mostly guessing just now, but I was expecting something like this after hearing how the most stubborn of my daughters got herself contracted to an extremely interesting Hero of Chaos.”

“Who told you?”

“I have my sources.”

“Ah. It was father, wasn’t it?”

“Might’ve been.”

“Figures. That guy never could keep his mouth shut.”

“Indeed. He was actually bragging about his exploits during Overlord Nagnamor’s recent incursion into the mortal realm when he offhandedly mentioned he caught a glimpse of you floating around and doing him proud with those flames of yours.”

“Wait, father’s in the Flaming Legion? Since when? Wasn’t he living it up in some lavish hardcore dungeon in the southern desert?”

“His contract was terminated some forty years ago. Apparently, his employer wasn’t too keen on having someone with such a volatile temper roaming about.”

“Well, he never was the type to follow orders, but that only makes his joining up with the Legion harder to believe.”

“Don’t act so surprised, child. There aren’t a lot of employment opportunities for an ifrit sultan. Come to think of it, he’s partly to blame for you turning out like this. You may have gotten my ravishing looks, but your obsession with flames and ash is definitely his.”

“Yeah, yeah… Wait, how did he tell you about my master in the first place?!”

“I heard about that loudmouth Nagnamor showing his dumb face during the recent war, so I called your father to congratulate him on his first official invasion of the mortal realm.”

“That’s not what I meant. I thought the Progenitor forbade demons from leaking information about my master.”

“Yes, he did. To mortals.”

Xera’s first impulse was to question and protest that technicality, but she resisted the urge. It would’ve been a pointless argument. Instead, she merely let out a defeated sigh, followed by a groaning complaint.

“I suppose it’s good to see you haven’t gone senile in your old age, mother.”

“Alright, enough beating around the bush. What in Queen Shridiaphrial’s fuckable nipples is going on with you, child?!”

“… I guess I happened to meet the right master,” said the djinn with a surprisingly pure smile.

“Yes, yes, but what’s it really like? Having a monster for a summoner?”

“Like nothing else on this world. As you said, I had been awakened to pleasures of the flesh I had never experienced before. It took a little while for me to embrace it, but once I did, it felt like my world had suddenly expanded. At some point, my Master started catering to my new desires, both regularly and, mmmm, vigorously.”

“And what needs would those be? I’d rather hear it from your own mouth rather than believe rumors and hearsay.”

The djinn laid back as if she were resting on an invisible lounge chair and stared dreamy-eyed at the ceiling.

“I was humiliated beyond belief and torn limb from limb until my mind broke and I could no longer discern pain from pleasure. My insides were ravaged by insertions you wouldn’t believe, stretching me to the point I would burst open, only to be devoured while still clinging to life. Hnnnng!

It’s the absolute best!”

“Yeesh,” Yuu reflectively pulled back. “Even for a kink that’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“I can’t help it, mother! My Master is just that good! Just thinking about being dominated by it gets me going like you wouldn’t believe! If I didn’t get brutally railed on a regular basis, I’d probably have gone nuts!”

“It’s far too late for that, methinks. I must admit, I’ve never imagined one of mine would turn out to be such a… submissive.”

“Yet, it was inevitable! Master isn’t some weakling human or elf held back by worthless things like morality or common sense! It is a monster of unparalleled cruelty and deviousness. Hnnnnng! Boxxy really is the best Master a worthless, shameless slut like me could have!”

The hopeless pervert was getting so worked up that she started rubbing her crotch while biting her lips.

“Stop that, will you? You almost make it sound like you’d fallen for it.”

“Oh, but I have.”

“… Come again?”

“I love my Master. Or, at least, I think I do. I cannot bear the thought of never seeing it again. I had my contract severed twice now by outside influences, and both times it hurt like nothing else ever had. Not in the tasty way, either.”

“Wow. You really have it quite bad, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid I do, mother.”

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing, though,” Yuu took on a sagely tone. “I also felt such flights of fancy long ago… I don’t want to ruin it for you, but let me just say this. That terrible feeling you mentioned? It’s going to hurt even worse when you eventually outlive the thing. Enjoy yourself while you can, but learn to let go.”

“I like how you assumed Boxxy will succumb to something as trifling as death.”

The alcubus rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She hadn’t heard of that shapeshifter’s resurrection just yet, so she just took Xera’s comment as ‘the folly of the young.’

“Regardless, it gladdens me to hear you’ve found something that excites you so. I will admit, it makes me a bit envious, though I suspect you didn’t pay me a visit just to brag.”

Yuu’s demeanor changed once again as her motherly side took a back seat to her role as matriarch to this little cloister of sin.

“Frankly speaking,” she spoke sternly, “your presence here does not put me at ease. Nor does the fact that you revealed this place to a mortal. So, I’m going to get straight to the point. What does that master of yours want with us?”

“… My Master demands one of your alraune.”

“Ah, it demands one, does it?” Yuu cocked an eyebrow.

Xera walked over to a nearby table and slammed her forehead into it hard enough to draw blood. After administering the ‘self-punishment’ per her master’s telepathic instructions, she turned her glossy eyes back to her mother.

“I misspoke. My Master respectfully requests your assistance. I am the one who is demanding you honor its wishes.”

“That’s more like it, though I cannot imagine what that creature would want with our ranch’s plants. Care to enlighten me?”

“Does it matter? It’s not like losing one or two would put your livelihood at risk.”

“Of course it will. Mishandling a single specimen could jeopardize everything I’ve built here.”

“Well, if you must know, it’s not for personal use. A dryad from across the border has requested that Master bring her a mountain alraune, and it has deemed it fit to oblige the old vegetable. It will not be seen by any outsiders.”

“Hmmmm, is that so?” the alcubus thoughtfully cupped her chin. “I suppose I might agree to that request then. However, I am not doing this for free. I will have this master of yours assist me with a few simple requests.”

“Master says it makes no promises, but asking is free.”

“Quite. Well, for starters, I need you lot to promise me you will depart this place as soon as our business is done. I want to avoid having the Inquisition
snooping around because you’ve been spotted in the area. Naturally, I’d also rather avoid any hostilities between us.”

“That’s fine by us. Getting an alraune is the only reason we’re even here.”

This ranch was located at the foot of the White Peaks, a pair of peculiarly-shaped mountains in the south-eastern part of the Empire. It was something of a detour Boxxy had taken while its plans regarding the Order of the Black Wand took shape. It would be several more days before it could act on those, so it had decided to make the most of that time by tackling Ambrosia’s request. It had no idea when or if it would be in the Empire again and was quite eager to experience the new nectar flavor the dryad had promised it, leading to this surprise visit.

“What else?” asked the younger demon. “Neither of us can imagine you’d want to part with your exclusivity for a simple non-aggression pact.”

“My, how perceptive.”

The knowledge and seeds required to raise and care for a mountain alraune could not be found anywhere else on this world. This ‘ranch’ was, after all, where that particular strand of the monster had first originated. It shared many characteristics of the more common variants from across the southern ocean, such as the ability to use a combination of magic and pollen to mentally unbalance their prey. With their inhibitions loosened and judgment clouded, the monsters would draw their potential victims in and lull them into a sleep they’d never wake from, or just kill them if they resisted. Either way, their flesh and blood would serve as nutrients for the monstrous flowers. It was a hunting pattern not too different from that of succubi, but the two races were completely unrelated. In fact, anyone who survived the carnivorous plants of the southern continent would find any implication to the contrary to be ludicrous.

The original alraune were giant monstrous flowers without any humanoid features whatsoever. They had powerful and flexible vine-like tendrils that could potentially imitate a person’s shape if they coiled around each other the right way, but nobody would ever mistake them for the real thing. At least, not until Yuu got involved several hundred years ago. A skilled Lifebinder Alchemist herself, she used a combination of life-altering concoctions and corruptive demonic energies to create a mutant variant of
the species that would eventually become the voluptuous flower-girls known as mountain alraune. They were significantly less violent and much hardier than the original, making it feasible to grow and farm them for their valuable secretions. That was the short version of how this ranch was founded, though the ‘why’ of it had nothing to do with profits.

Yuu’s ultimate goal had been to create a safe haven where she and her daughters could relax and play around without having to constantly look over their shoulders. However, such a place would be pointless if it didn’t allow its intended residents to indulge in their twisted desires and prey upon mortals. It had to be near civilization, but that also meant it would come under scrutiny. A remote ranch full of nothing but beautiful women and plagued with an abnormally high number of disappearances in the area?

That would be immensely suspicious if not for the fact that the place tended to nearly a hundred mountain alraune in the surrounding fields.

For instance, it was no surprise said workforce would be full of women since they were far more resistant to the intoxicating pollen that blanketed the region for several kilometers. As for their uncanny beauty, why, that was merely one of the benefits of working there. The establishment used the alraune’s exotic secretions to produce a range of premium cosmetic products. These oils, ointments, and tonics did wonders- nay, miracles for a lady’s skin and figure if applied correctly and consistently. It was hardly unusual for the workers to get regular free samples as part of their benefits.

All of that worked fairly well as far as covers went, but Yuu’s vacation home inevitably attracted attention whenever someone noticed the abnormally high volume of disappearances in the area. When questioned, the deceitful residents would simply point out that it was ‘a regrettable consequence’ that some horny fools wanted to sneak in for a passionate night with a buxom flower-girl. The ranch had put up warning signs and posted lookouts, of course, but the aforementioned pollen did weird things to men’s brains, especially in spring. That was why the surrounding villages knew to give the area a wide berth, and why they warned any travelers passing through to do the same. Any deliveries to and from the ranch were made by its employees, so it was safe to assume that any outsiders that came near the place were either trespassers, idiots, or tax collectors.

That third group was actually a vital part of maintaining the den’s cover.

The government would have little reason to launch any formal inquiry into the ranch’s operation so long as its dues to the state were paid in-full and on-time. It wasn’t as if a bunch of demons needed money anyway, so pretty much all of the profits went into maintaining good relations with those in power. Not just through taxes, but also various gifts, a few bribes, and a plethora of sexual favors. Yuu did everything in her power to ensure that her public persona as ‘Lady Emilia Applebottom’ remained in excellent standing with the Empire’s nobility. That was also why she was on alert regarding this Inquisition business. It was the biggest threat to her operation in over a century, but she likely had plans and contingencies to deal with them should they come knocking.

Xera had explained all of this to Boxxy, and the enterprising young shapeshifter did not fail to anticipate that the secrets it was requesting probably had a hefty price attached.

“My Master wishes you would state your fee outright,” the djinn relayed.

“It has brought gold, jewels, and numerous magic items with it, so it is prepared to meet any reasonable cost immediately.”

“Well, I can see that master of yours is still a little naive,” her mother sneered. “ Money is not exactly high on our priorities here at the Honeypot Ranch. We have more than enough to cover our needs, and it’s not within our nature to covet material belongings. There is only one thing an unbound demon truly wants – to satiate their desires and fill the void that is an eternity in the Beyond. That is why I require your master’s aid. Have it do a little favor for me, and I shall give you what you seek.”

“… Master wishes to complain,” was the slightly delayed reply. “It asks,

‘Why is it that everyone with some modicum of power wants to deal with favors instead of shinies?’”

“Because there are things money cannot buy, of course.”

There was a brief delay as Boxxy considered those words and prepared a reply via proxy.

“My Master will attempt to fulfil your request, but it wants you to know it will refuse to engage in anything that would endanger its life.”

The promise of Ambrosia’s enhanced nectar was an enticing reward, but it wasn’t worth risking death.

“Oh, it’s nothing that dangerous,” claimed the elder demoness. “There’s no fighting involved, and it should only take a few hours… hopefully more.”

“’Spit it out already,’ Master says.”

“Very well. For starters, I heard this shapeshifter contractor of yours has a certain… preferred form. A petite little number with a healthy brown countenance. I wish to see it for myself.”

“If you insist.”

The djinn kicked her Conjure Mirage Skill into high gear, instantly producing an extremely lifelike illusion before her mother. One of a polished oaken treasure chest, bound together with braces of shimmering steel.

“… What is this?”

“You said you wanted to see my Master’s favorite brown shape, right?”

Xera’s mouth curled into a shit-eating grin that made Yuu close her eyes, pinch the bridge of her nose, and sigh deeply. She should’ve known better than to be cryptic with a djinn, but didn’t expect that her daughter would be so in tune with her new self’s predisposition for annoying others with mischief.

“No, not that one,” she said calmly. “I meant the beastkin girl. The one that supposedly tricked an entire nation. And I don’t want to see an illusion, I want to be able to touch it.”

“Should’ve said so from the start.”

Xera undid the illusory rendition of a false chest and rapidly transformed into a naked Keira, her evil grin turning into a pleasant smile. Yuu greedily ogled and groped her as she marveled at how flawless yet natural she looked. The combined impact of the adorably pretty face, the perky developing breasts, the gently swaying tail, and the twitchy triangular ears made her momentarily forget this form wasn’t real.

“Ugh, could you not?” groaned the young not-a-catgirl as she pulled back with a look of disgust.

“Ahah, do forgive me, child. I was just surprised is all.”

The alcubus had a feeling about this, but seeing it first-hand proved her suspicion that Keira was just her type – young and bright with a face almost lethal in its cuteness. She wasn’t all that sexy, but it was an appearance that almost anyone would adore.

“This is quite the sight,” cooed Yuu as she leered closer and sniffing at the air. “Even the scent is splendid.”

“Okay, you’re officially creeping me out,” Xera grimaced while pulling further away.

“And the voice, too! Oh, you are just a treat!”

“I don’t think I like where this is going…”

After recollecting herself somewhat, the elder demon got straight to the point.

“Okay, enough foreplay. Your master’s orders are for you to relay what I say word-for-word, are they not?”

“Uh, they are? Why?”

“Because I’m going to take the liberty of speaking ‘directly’ to it for this final request. You see, Boxxy, was it? Someone with my tastes finds it difficult to satisfy herself in this sort of environment. It’s honestly quite frustrating at times watching my daughters enjoy themselves while I am denied indulging in my preferences. So, I wish to lay with this facetious persona of yours while she remains completely in character. I have a feeling the memory of such an act will help me cope with particularly lonely nights for decades to come.”

“My Master says that it will not, under any circumstances, go anywhere near you, so it will have to reject your offer.”

Intercourse with a succubus was dangerous enough on its own under normal circumstances, so doing it with an unbound and upgraded one? That was more than a little suicidal, even for a box without a single drop of libido.

“No, no, you two misunderstand. While I will not give up one of my plants until I have that scrumptious little thing diddle my twat, I never said the master was the one who had to administer the payment.”

The shorter-yet-older demon leaned in and gave the Keira-shaped and wide-eyed Xera a thoroughly un-motherly look.

“I imagine you’ve filled in for the girl’s ‘duties’ plenty of times, yes?”

“Uh… what? Where did this come from?!”

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to do it with one of my children, but none of them would ever agree to it.”

“Of course not! I don’t want to do it, either!”

“I’m afraid you don’t get a say in this, my dear. This is an agreement between me and your master. So, what say you, oh Hero of Chaos on the other side of my naughty daughter’s dirty thoughts?”

The next morning, Boxxy left the province with its very own alraune starter kit and all of its shinies intact. Not a bad day, to say the least. Admittedly, it also had to deal with an archfiend with a demolished ego, a traumatized djinn, and a webstalker who would not shut up about how grateful she was to be left out, but all things considered?

Not a bad day at all.

Chapter Three

Year of the Chest

Part One

High above Azurvale, in the jungle-like environment that made up Ambrosia’s upper canopy, there was a single shapeshifter. The monster was disguised as a middle-aged elven woman wrapped in thick furs and sat cross-legged on top of the tallest, flattest branch around. It glanced up at the night sky, quietly thankful for the clear weather and countless glittering stars sparkling across the great void. Okay, that was something of an exaggeration. They weren’t countless at all considering Boxxy had indeed counted them all. Either way, the 4,169 twinkling lights were a welcome distraction from the howling of the frigid wind. At least, none of the ice and snow reached the monster due to the thick, layered, open-top dome of stalker webbing surrounding it.

The structure wasn’t by accident, of course. Claws liked to come up here to hunt and spin her threads in her off time, so she was able to assemble this shelter quite rapidly once ordered. The shapeshifter was also fairly certain this was the exact same spot it performed the Ritual of Unholy Wealth.

There just weren’t that many suitable gaps in the hylt tree’s foliage where the branches were wide and the sky visible. It had come up here precisely because it was about to perform another borderline heretical ceremony. That said, the spot wasn’t quite suited to its needs, hence why it got permission from Ambrosia to do a little construction. The wind-resistant shelter erected and star-gazing finished for the moment, it briskly assembled a two-by-three meter platform out of planks and nails. It got out a fresh pail of troll blood and used it to paint a six-pointed star on the flat surface then adorned each protruding corner with a demonic sigil. The stage was set. The elf-shaped monster sat in the middle of the macabre formation and started whispering some mystical gibberish-sounding words.

As it performed the incantation, the bloody rune directly in front of it seemed to bubble and boil before suddenly evaporating in a puff of rush-colored smoke. Boxxy drew a curved dagger from its cloak which instantly soaked up the gaseous substance and took on a corroded appearance despite it being brand new. The monster held out its other hand and cut open its forearm with the empowered knife as it continued chanting under its breath.

Copious amounts of dark red blood flowed freely from its open wound.

There was far more than there should have been, which was expected considering this ritual was sacrificial in nature. The supernatural forces conjured by the shapeshifter continued to draw out globs of the near-black fluid that leapt out of the cut and splashed against the iron dagger. They wrapped around the infused blade, merging with the rust-tinted vapors to create a smooth crimson sheath. Boxxy resisted the urge to wince, grunt, or yell at the profoundly un-tasty sensations involved as it uttered the last words necessary to complete the ritual.

“Dolor sit amet.”

At that moment, the blade in its hand let out a crumpling noise as blood and metal merged together to create a bright green lump of crystal that held a tiny glowing spark at its core.

[A special action has been performed. AGI -50.]

[You have created a Greater Quintessence of Agility of Superior quality.]

Boxxy panted heavily from the ordeal, its breath turning white the instant it contacted the freezing air. This wasn’t the first time it had performed the Rite of Jul-Keshir, but it was impossible to get used to having its strength and speed literally sucked out of it. It was just as tiring and unpleasant as it sounded, but it was necessary if it was to stave off the onset of power creep without sacrificing its Jobs or Skills. Their active or passive effects were far more important and impactful than those of raw Attributes. Furthermore, this method of Status moderation opened up some interesting possibilities.

Boxxy could, in theory, target certain monsters in an attempt to seize their most powerful abilities without worrying about power creep since it could perform the Rite of Jul-Keshir as many times as deemed necessary.

However, there were two troublesome caveats with that approach. One, the ritual could only drain the subject of the six base Attributes – STR, AGI, DEX, END, INT, and WIS. If any of the specialized statistics like PER or MNT began to bloat, then the monster would have to compensate by bleeding out more of the core ones. It was… inefficient. That aside, the second and more immediate drawback was that the Rite was a superbly uncomfortable and draining experience.

The monster remained still for a few minutes in order to recover from the ordeal. Once its strength had returned, it firmly grasped the newly formed
green crystal and carefully snapped it off the dagger’s handle. Boxxy was wary of damaging the object as these Quintessences were quite brittle. They were also an exceedingly valuable and versatile crafting material since the only ways to create them were taxing demonic rituals and an Occult Alchemist’s time-consuming experiments. Once formed, a Quintessence could be ground into dust and distilled into elixirs, fashioned into gemstones to augment weapons and armor, or used as a catalyst for heavy-duty enchanting. Every Artisan Job could find a use for these little marvels.

They could even be consumed raw to provide a minor yet permanent Attribute boost, though that was by far the most wasteful option since it would be a net loss.

Boxxy hadn’t yet decided what it would do with the Superior-grade Quintessence it made. They were currently little more than a byproduct of its power creep treatment and, while valuable, really weren’t all that shiny.

In its raw form, the crystal was too muddled and its surface too rough to glisten in the way the former mimic liked. Still, it was sure to find some practical use for it in due time, so it carefully stashed its first Quintessence, took out another dagger, and repeated the ritual. An Attribute loss of 50 was monumental for most people, yet it was less than 1% of Boxxy’s AP total. It would take more than one or two Rites to get itself out of power creep range, though the monster was wary of performing the ceremony too much.

Ideally, it would stop at a point where it could maintain the most power without burdening its body, but it could only guess where that sweet spot was. Trial and error seemed to be the only way to determine that.

Once its business at the treetop ritual site was concluded, the monster began the windy descent towards its lair. It briefly considered whether it should dismantle the web-and-wood shelter before deciding to leave it intact.

While it would be bad if some random nose-poker found it, the odds of that happening were astronomically low. The upper reaches of the hylt canopy were their own monster-infested ecosystem. Combined with the sheer altitude and overall absence of treasure or secrets, practically no one explored the place. The only exception were Ranger trainees like Keira used to be, but even they never went higher than the lower-middle layer.

Besides, Claws had already spread a ridiculous amount of her non-conjured webbing throughout the area. There was so much of it that it had practically become a treetop city of silk. The only way to feasibly remove it was to
burn everything, and that was sure to upset both Claws and Ambrosia. It just wasn’t worth it considering the extreme remoteness of the location.

In short, it would be a waste of time and effort to dismantle the platform, only to reassemble it the next time Boxxy needed to perform the ritual. The monster had used enough energy for the day even before it started draining its Status, so it returned to its private dungeon without delay. Once inside, it immediately relocated itself to the hidden treasure room. It took a long, prideful look at its ever-growing hoard of gold and jewels before going over to a mostly vacant spot. It reached down and put a hand on an enchanted steel safe, although this one was so small it would be more accurate to call it a deposit box. Having recognized its owner by their unique mana signature, the container unlocked itself with a loud click and Boxxy opened it to reveal it was currently empty. That simply wouldn’t do.

The shapeshifter pulled four unrefined crystals from its Storage – a green, a yellow, a blue and a white one. These were the freshly made Greater Quintessences of Agility, Dexterity, Strength, and Intelligence. It carefully placed them inside the lockbox and sealed it back up, though this was not to deter thieves. The only way to access this space was through the dungeon core’s Nexus Access function, as entry through either physical or magical means had been blocked off. Therefore, the only threat to those precious items was, in a fit of mild irony, the one that made them. Boxxy had sacrificed a total of 200 Attributes to make those things and wanted to be certain they didn’t get smashed in a tragic gold-bathing accident. It might not have had a good use for them at the moment, but that was hardly a reason to risk wasting them after all that trouble it went through. Stupid Rite of Jul-Keshir. Why couldn’t it work within the dungeon’s confines?

Was the overabundance of ambient mana really that big of a deal? More like Rite of Jul-Ke shit.

Regardless of its petty grievances with the arcane ceremony, it was objectively better to be ‘safe’ than sorry, so Boxxy carefully placed the steel lockbox in a slightly larger one in a corner of the treasury. That settled, all that remained was to wait and see if shedding ‘just’ 200 AP would alleviate its symptoms. There was no way to tell right now since performing the physically and mentally draining ritual left the creature feeling like absolute crap even without the power creep. It would probably take a day or two for any results to show, so the monster left Snack to handle Keira’s nightly and
morning duties while it retired to the Vessel of Dreams for some much-needed rest.

As the shapeshifter expected, it overslept yet again and woke up around noon. When it got up to do its new stretching routine, it realized there was no need for it. There was not even a hint of the soreness or lethargy that had plagued it for the past week. It wasn’t feeling at a hundred percent yet, so it decided to give it more time to recover before repeating the Rite again. On second thought, perhaps this not-quite-peak condition was normal. Though it felt lighter and more energetic than the day before, it was unquestionably weaker in several aspects. Only time would tell for sure, and with the power creep matter more or less settled, Boxxy could focus on the evening’s proceedings.

Today marked one of the most significant events in the calendar of every civilized society – Aurora Eve. It was the night when the old year gave way to the new, celebrated across all cultures and countries since time immemorial. The holiday’s origins were naturally shrouded in mystery, but it supposedly celebrated the emergence of enlightened across Terrania.

Boxxy had no idea why anyone in their right mind would hold such an event in the dead of winter. It was probably a tradition thing, but the monster was quite ignorant on the subject of Aurora Eve as a whole. It had heard of it, and knew the date, but never got around to learning more about it since it usually had more important things to do. The only thing it actually knew about the holiday’s history was its presumed age since the current year was about to roll over from 4,523 to 4,524 SE – short for ‘Since Enlightenment.’ Boxxy imagined it originated when some primitive shmuck randomly decided to start counting winters one day. It personally couldn’t care less.

The same was not true for its public persona, however. Keira had no choice but to participate in the event. It was only common sense. Everybody celebrated Aurora Eve. Even criminals and beggars took time off from stealing and pleading despite it being the ideal time to do both. Apparently, there was a widespread belief that anyone who dared bring harm or sorrow to their fellow man on Aurora Eve would face a year filled with terrible misfortune. Boxxy dismissed this as a silly superstition when it first caught wind of it, but it soon found almost everyone believed in it. This made it impossible to ignore. After all, this world was home to a deity whose entire
existence revolved around random events. There was a non-zero chance that the so-rumored Aurora Hex was a very real, very deliberate phenomenon.

That was why the shapeshifter was resolved to be on its best behavior tonight, which meant trying its best to genuinely enjoy the festivities.

Speaking of which, the actual celebrations varied from one family to the next. Every household observed their own unique mix of little rituals, silly ceremonies, and pointless traditions. That said, there were three universal aspects of it – good food, strong drink, and a generous amount of merriment. Azurvale’s most prestigious families were no different, although they threw more gold at their Aurora Eve parties than most citizens saw throughout the year. Professional chefs, imported dwarven liquors, exotic performers, and elaborate parlor games were lined up to make the evening a truly momentous one. The Slyth family, being members of the capital’s elite, would also participate in these opulent festivities. Naturally, this meant that their unofficial daughter-in-law would be tagging along, though it was worth noting that Rowana’s parents wouldn’t be the hosts.

Azurvale’s upper class had their own set of traditions surrounding Aurora Eve. One such quirk was that the affluent households would take turns organizing, sponsoring, and holding the big party for the entirety of the disgustingly rich community. It wasn’t the Slyths’ turn this time around, so they and their ‘plus one’ would be guests of another influential family.

Their only responsibilities for the night were to have a good time without making asses of themselves. Well, that and actually arrive at the venue, which was why Keira and Rowana were cooped up in a luxurious carriage while it took them someplace neither had been before.

“Ugh…” the redhead groaned as she stared out of the window. “I really wish we could’ve spent tonight together, just the two of us.”

“You and me both,” the elf seated next to her sighed. “Usually, I talk my parents out of dragging me into these pompous gatherings since I’m not all that important, but this year was a no-go.”

“What? Why not?”

Keira looked to Rowana with a quizzical expression and was met with an accusatory glare.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Right, stupid question.”

There was no way a socialite like Doris Slyth would pass up taking advantage of Keira’s popularity, so she practically strong-armed her daughter into bringing both of them along. This was something of a problem for Boxxy, as it had no idea how it was supposed to act in such a formal setting. Granted, neither did a teenage street-rat-turned-adventurer like Keira, but it wanted to avoid making a bad impression if at all possible.

Rowana had a similar thought regarding her strong-willed girlfriend, but she tried to look at the bright side.

“Well, it’s not all bad. At least you get to finally meet my big brother.”

“Your brother? Oh, yeah! He was studying abroad to take charge of the family business or something, wasn’t he? I guess he’s back for the holiday?”

“Hah! ‘Holiday.’ Today’s just another day on the job for him. He’ll be too busy socializing with the big shots and making connections to actually enjoy himself.”

“Money doesn’t party, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“While on the subject, I have a question about these dresses you picked out for us.”

“What’s with that dissatisfied tone? Didn’t you say it looked good on me?”

“No, it does, but that’s not the issue.”

Rowana was wearing a pure white gown with a rather daring neckline. It covered the shoulders and arms in intricate, floral-patterned lace, and a matching pair of leggings poked out from beneath the calf-length skirt. It was certainly a fancy outfit, but one made positively shiny by the countless flakes of Fool’s Diamond sewn into it. The synthetic gemstones made the garment flicker and sparkle with every movement, which Boxxy wasn’t about to complain about. Nevertheless, it had one very legitimate concern.

“It wasn’t me and you that paid for them, right?”

Keira had brought home a rather substantial sum of money from her month-long adventure in the Horkensaft Kingdom. It was something Boxxy had already written off from its private hoard as a necessary expense, but that wasn’t to say it wanted to see it wasted on such frivolous decorations. Even if the clothes were shiny, they were far too impractical to warrant the hefty price tag that most likely accompanied them.

“Of course not, don’t be silly. It’s not like we can afford something like this on my pharmacist’s salary and your adventuring income. Just think of them as early Eve gifts from my mother and father.”

“Really? Then how come mine is… like this?”

Keira’s dress was bright red and wasn’t made to sparkle like Rowana’s, though that wasn’t the issue. The outfit was, to put things mildly, rather scandalous. It covered up her stomach and modest breasts, but left the rest of her upper body quite bare. The tight skirt was so short that it didn’t even reach halfway down her thighs, yet the genius that designed the garment still added a slit on the right side. That wasn’t even the most provocative part. The extreme dress exposed the entirety of Keira’s slightly toned back all the way down to the base of her tail, just above her rump. Any lower and the catgirl would be arrested for indecent exposure. That was still a very real risk considering the outfit cast some serious doubt as to the existence of her undergarments.

In short, it was a scrap of fancy cloth more at home on a shameless tramp than a law-abiding citizen.

“I’m pretty sure neither of your parents would buy me something like this,”

she added.

“They may have paid for it, but I picked it out for you,” Rowana calmly claimed.

“And you’re sure there were no… I don’t know, more decent ones?”

“There were some, but they were not nearly fashionable enough for this sort of party. That’s what happens if you wait until the last moment to pick out an Aurora Eve dress – you end up with clothes only insane- extremely bold people would wear. I figured you could handle it.”

“Uh-huh. So, this dress you found at the last minute just so happens to fit me perfectly?”

“Don’t be silly, of course it fits. It’s a magic item, after all. How else do you think it stays on without any straps?”

“Yes, I know how the Well Fitted enchantment works, which is why I can tell that this oversized napkin doesn’t have it. It’s not a lot of fabric, but it still clings to me as if it was made specifically for someone with my exact measurements. So, either this is a coincidence so unbelievable that it would make Ivan drool, or someone took my sizes to a tailor behind my back.”

The redhead crossed her legs and arms while staring hard at the elf.

“Ahah. Is, uh, is that so?”

“Rowie.”

The culprit tried to act dumb, but crumbled quickly under Keira’s pressure.

Sharp glare aside, she looked so ravishing that it made her partner weak in the knees.

“Oh, alright! Yes, I had this made months ago, but then you suddenly got that you-know-what on your back so I couldn’t bear to bring it up! And then I saw that the thing was completely healed, so I sort of… went for it.”

Technically speaking, there was still a bit of the soulstone left, but it had diminished so much that Boxxy was able to perfectly conceal it under a layer of bronze-tinted skin.

“You ‘sort of went for it?’ You do realize people will think I’m a slut if I go out in public in such clothing. And I use that word loosely.”

Panic dawned on the elf’s face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was looking forward to seeing her girlfriend in that tantalizing dress so much that she neglected to take third parties into account. She had originally intended to have Keira wear it in a far more intimate setting, but it was far too late to do anything about it now.

“Then again, there are weird rumors floating around already,” the redhead grumbled. “For all I know, being called a loose woman might actually be an improvement.”

“Ah. Ahah. Hah…”

A strangely awkward silence descended upon the cabin as Keira resumed staring absentmindedly out of the window. Rowana wasn’t sure if it was her place to speak up since her own selfishness might have caused some trouble for her girlfriend, but the more she stared at her, the less guilty she felt.

After all, her lover looked incredibly stunning tonight. It wasn’t just the extravagant mini-dress. The fact that she had agreed to style her previously untamed hair into a straight bob made her look like a completely different person. She exuded such a refined sense of beauty that it boggled the mind to think she was the same person from four hours ago. Keira was talking too much while eating her lunch and nearly choked on a piece of fish that she hacked up into her hand and immediately put back in her mouth. Looking at her now was akin to catching a glimpse at an alternate reality. A sexier, more dazzling reality that made the elf want to pin the catgirl down right then and there.

“Rowie. You’re drooling.”

“Ack! Crap, sorry,” she quickly wiped her moist chin. “You just look so terrifyingly beautiful that it made my fantasies run wild.”

“Well, try to keep dry at least until we get back home.”

“I fear it may be a bit too late for that,” the elf confessed with a slight blush.

“… Your dress, Rowie. I meant your dress.”

Another round of awkward silence overcame the carriage. Was Boxxy imagining things, or was this elf getting more perverted by the day?

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the vehicle reached the enormous mansion that was its destination. The driver opened the door and helped both ladies off while shielding them from the cold winds with a Climate Baton – a luxury magic item that was essentially an invisible umbrella on steroids.

The two ladies linked arms and proceeded down the stone path while the driver escorted them to maintain the bubble of warm and dry air.

“When did you get so good at walking in high heels?” asked the elf.

“Since your mother made me practice while we stayed at her place for a few weeks,” Keira replied.

“Huh. That’s unexpected. I mean, you were pretty vocal about how uncomfortable they were last time.”

“That hasn’t changed. I still think they’re terrible footwear. I have half a mind to just take them off and go barefoot.”

“Please don’t do that. They look so cute on you.”

“… Alright, I won’t. Only because you asked nicely, though.”

The extravagant mansion’s owners and hosts of this year’s high-class Aurora Eve party were the Bryric family. According to Rowana, they started out as successful adventurers that put their considerable earnings into choice pieces of property in and around Azurvale. The investments paid off big time over the past fifteen years, making them the newest addition to the capital’s elite. Thomas Bryric’s aptitude for real estate was made obvious by the fact that they managed to secure a residence this damn big on the capital’s ground level rather than on an elevated branch-street. It wasn’t easy to claim this much soil in the ancient city, and the former adventurers had made use of all of it. The front garden was filled with the usual eye-pleasing decorations one would expect, but those with the right knowledge would recognize that most things had practical applications.

Rowana spotted a number of beautiful yet potent flowers that could be used to make health-boosting teas and tonics. Keira, on the other hand, realized there was a collection of hedges and sculptures that seemed eerily similar to an obstacle course she’d run dozens of times as a rookie Ranger. Beneath the surface, Boxxy noticed that some of the statues were actually dormant stone golems that could prove useful in case of home invasion or maybe as sparring partners.

A sharply dressed butler greeted the couple at the mansion’s front entrance.

Some polite words were exchanged, after which the servant guided Rowana and Keira to the main hall where the event was taking place. It proved a longer walk than Boxxy anticipated, making it question whether some spatial magic was used to make the already large building even bigger on the inside. It was a very real possibility, given the frivolous spending habits of the filthy rich. The guests eventually reached the main hall, but were asked to wait just outside the grand double doors while the staffed prepared their introduction.

“… Introduction?” whispered Keira nervously.

“Just smile and wave, sweetie,” Rowana replied. “Just smile and wave.”

The massive doors flew open to reveal exactly what one might expect from such a high-profile gathering. The decor was needlessly fancy, with art lining the walls and chandeliers heavy with magical lights dangling from the tall ceiling. About a hundred or so important-looking men and women in expensive clothes were having polite conversation over cocktails while a dozen servants darted around carrying trays and bottles. There was even a stage with a band performing a soft, calming tune that just barely overpowered the general murmur.

“Now announcing,” the porter shouted loudly and clearly, “the Hero of Chaos, Keira Morgana, and her partner, miss Rowana Slyth.”

All of that buzzing about came to a sudden halt when the two entered the ballroom. The elf, who was still linked at the elbow with the catgirl, gave her lover a light tug. Taking the hint, the redhead started walking forward and down the wide staircase amidst near-total silence. Even the band had stopped playing to stare. Boxxy was, just as it had expected, quite unsure what to do. It had studied up on formal elven etiquette somewhat, but it had no idea what the proper response to this sort of situation was. Not having many other options, it ended up following Rowana’s advice and had Keira wave lightly at the crowd while putting on her best smile.

The guests immediately stopped gawking when they saw that and, as if on cue, went back to whatever it was they were doing as though nothing had happened. There were a few who lightly applauded the catgirl’s entrance, but other than that her introduction to high society had passed without incident. Rowana flashed her girlfriend a small, cheerful nod to reassure her and one of the servants quickly showed them to their table. Mr. and Mrs.

Slyth were already there, dressed in matching outfits the color of fresh snow just like their only daughter. This attire was another one of their little traditions, not unlike the platinum blonde hair. Rowana sat next to her mother and Keira took the next chair over, putting her squarely on the opposite side of the family’s acting patriarch. There was one more empty seat presumably for the elusive heir, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Well!” Samulus spoke first. “I must say I’ve never seen an entrance quite like that.”

“What?” asked Keira, her eyes darting left and right. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not something you did, dearie,” Doris chuckled lightly, “it’s what you’re wearing.”

“… It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“If anything, I’d say it’s too little,” the husband remarked while taking a sip of champagne. “Not even Doris would be bold enough to show up in something like that, and she once fought off a wyvern in nothing but a blanket.”

“What my husband is trying to say,” the wife sternly interjected, “is that it caught us by surprise. Truth be told, I was aware that my daughter ordered a rather… creative garment. I just didn’t expect you to be brave enough to wear it in public.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. A certain someone,” Keira paused as she jerked her head towards Rowana, “insisted this was the only fancy dress left in town.”

“She probably wasn’t wrong, demand gets quite high every time Aurora Eve rolls around,” Samulus noted. “Almar Ularic made a killing by waiting until the last moment to sell his ‘special line of winter outfits.’ He does that every damn year, and it just keeps working.”

“That’s because he keeps buying out the competition and reselling it,” came a voice from behind Keira and Rowana. “It’s easy to push goods at a massive markup when you control all the supply, but that’s borderline fraud, if you ask me.”

The speaker was a male elf, who, by the look of it, was Rowana’s older brother. He had the same platinum blonde hair, albeit pulled back in a short ponytail. His green eyes also matched his sister’s and he looked to be only a year or two older. His face was quite handsome and sported a thin, well-groomed moustache. Last but not least, he was wearing a pure white suit similar to his father’s. In short, he was so obviously related that he really didn’t need to introduce himself, though he did so anyway.

“Elias Slyth,” he politely bowed. “A pleasure to finally meet you, miss Morgana.”

“Ah, yes. Likewise,” she awkwardly returned the gesture. “You can call me Keira if you’d like.”

“I will gladly do so.”

He took his seat at the table and the four family members began chatting amongst themselves. They made small talk about inconsequential stuff relating to Rowana’s day job, gossip from Doris, or Samulus and Elias going on about the family business. As for Keira, she didn’t get much of a chance to speak up, though she did try to get more familiar with the heir to the family business. He seemed to be quite the serious, hard-working type, an attitude which he supposedly inherited from his father. Just like his sister stated earlier, he was too preoccupied making connections to actually enjoy himself.

Boxxy wanted to do the same. It had the Slyth family’s favor, but it wanted more friends in high places. However, it recognized that it was out of its league. These people would probably try to use Keira’s popularity to their own end much as Rowana’s mother did, so it was better to start off small.

To that end, the catgirl asked that Elias introduce her to any other affluent adventurers in attendance. Unfortunately, it turned out there were none, as all of them had gone to a different party – the same one as Imiryl, Hilda, and Lichter. The only adventurers around were retired individuals, like the hosts. It made sense, in a way, as people in Keira’s line of work were typically ill-suited to this sort of posh gathering. There were a few rich kids who went on ‘adventures,’ though they were mostly just playing around.

“Well, that sucks,” Keira sighed in defeat. “I was hoping to swap some exciting stories, at least.”

“I dare say you’ve given the guests enough ‘excitement’ as it is,” Elias smirked. “That was quite the entrance you made. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mr. Bryric stare slack-jawed at someone before. It was quite amusing, though his wife wasn’t as entertained.”

“Yeah, well, I imagine he wasn’t the only one. Rowie here hasn’t stopped leering at me ever since we left the house.”

“I do not leer!” protested the woman in question.

“Then why are you drooling again?”

“Ah, crap!”

“Hahahaha!”

Elias let out a light-hearted laugh while his sister awkwardly wiped her face with a napkin.

“Dear oh me, Samulus,” Doris spoke in mock surprise. “I do believe our son is actually having fun. Next thing you know the sun will rise from the north!”

“Well, it is Aurora Eve after all,” the husband chuckled lightly. “Miracles are bound to happen.”

“Say, Elias, I’ve been wondering about something.”

“Ahah! Ahem! Sorry about that. What is it, Keira?”

“You seem a lot more accepting of my relationship with Rowie than her dad.”

Samulus instantly shrank into his chair a little, though his son didn’t flinch.

“Oh, that? I’ve known Rowana’s true colors for years.”

“Wait, what? Really?” the sister asked, wide-eyed.

“Of course. I like to think I knew you best when we were growing up, so there’s no way I wouldn’t notice something was… different. The constant sleepovers at the Stocktons’ place were the biggest giveaway.”

“… Come to think of it, the Stockton girl was quite attractive, wasn’t she?”

asked Samulus while rubbing his chin. “I mean, I didn’t think much of it back then, but now-”

“Dad!” protested the daughter. “Please don’t assume things!”

“I don’t mean to. It’s just that the Stocktons are old friends of ours, so I feel like we deserve to know if something happened.”

“Just because I fancy women doesn’t mean I’m going to chase after every pretty face I see, dad. Viessa and I were just friends.”

Keira, who had been momentarily distracted by a passing gentleman with a mouth full of solid mithril teeth, suddenly turned her head around when she heard that name.

“Viessa? Is that the ‘Vi’ girl that took your virginity?”

The table went deathly quiet at the catgirl’s utterance of the v-word.

Everyone was more than a little uncomfortable. Especially the family’s only daughter, who was currently hiding her beet-red face in her palms and actively considering which window to hurl herself out of.

“Rowana,” Samulus spoke sternly.

“Oh hey that’s a good song I’m gonna dance and we can talk about this never!”

She let out a lightning-fast barrage of words containing the world’s flimsiest excuse and essentially ran away by dragging her girlfriend along by the shoulder. She took the mischievously smirking redhead around a corner as quickly as possible.

“What was that about?!” the elf shout-whispered. “I told you to keep that a secret!”

The catgirl blinked dumbly for a few moments, then put on a peeved frown.

“You also told me I had no other choice but to wear this dress.”

“You what?! You said that to get back at me?!”

“I get mad sometimes, too.”

Rowana’s willingness to protest Keira’s actions suddenly disappeared. She was usually the one getting angry, so this reversal was a rather sour pill to swallow.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I guess I earned that.”

“… I’m sorry, too,” Keira’s face softened. “I think I might’ve gone too far.

Hope your dad won’t be too mad.”

“Oh, he’ll simmer down soon enough. I’m more worried about Vi. I don’t know if she told her parents yet, and it would be horrible if they found out from someone else.”

“Aw, crap. I didn’t consider that at all…”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll work out,” Rowana tried to stay positive. “More importantly, now that you’ve had your little revenge, I’m going to consider that dress paid for in full.”

“Uh, what?”

The elf raised her hands and started wiggling her fingers in an unbecoming manner.

“I can enjoy leering at you to my heart’s content, yes?”

“Rowie, your eyes are a bit scary,” mumbled Keira as she pulled back slightly.

“Jokes aside,” the elf cut the act, “that dress is definitely staying on when we get home later tonight.”

“W-well, if you insist. I just hope it’s stain resistant…”

“It is. I made sure of it.”

“… How?”

“Uh, not important. Shall we dance, now?”

“Yeah, okay.”

The pair didn’t actually make it to the dance floor, though, as they ran into a familiar face on the way.

“Good evening Keira, miss Slyth. Both of you look stunning tonight.”

The Hero of Magic was wearing a royal blue robe embroidered with gold and a solid black shirt underneath. It was definitely fancier than his regular outfit, but nowhere near as extravagant as one would expect from such a high profile event. He was also trying really hard not to ogle the scandalously dressed catgirl.

“Oh! Hey, Nao! Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“A pleasure to see you again, mister Shoki.”

Keira and Rowana offered their greetings, after which the redhead rapidly glanced around.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” she asked just before finding him. “Oh, wait, never mind.”

It was rather impossible not to see Kuro and his off-white military uniform loitering around the buffet table now that the redhead was actively looking for him. In fact, it was rather surprising she didn’t spot him earlier considering he stood out like a sore thumb that was on fire. He wasn’t exactly shirking his responsibilities, though, as his eyes were darting all over the place as he sized up each and every guest as if they were potential threats. Either that or he was ogling the fine high-class ladies in attendance.

Probably a bit of both.

“I don’t mean to impose, but may I borrow Keira for a few minutes?” Nao politely asked. “There are some Hero matters I wish to discuss with her, away from prying eyes and ears.”

The elf wasn’t completely okay with it since she intended to monopolize Kiera well into the new year. She withheld her selfish desires once she noticed her girlfriend had an obvious look of ‘I should go’ about her, but didn’t want to let her off without a little parting gift.

“Of course, of course. No problem,” she readily agreed. “However.”

*SLAP*

“Kya!”

The elf’s open palm impacted Keira’s firm behind, and the younger woman let out a high-pitched yelp.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Rowana sensually whispered those words while lightly groping the redhead’s sensitive rear. She slinked off to hide from the rest of her family while the pair of red-faced beastkin headed towards one of the ballroom’s many exits. Kuro spotted them and made his way over to join them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s this about?” the redhead asked as they moved through the crowd.

“Bad news?”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” he replied quickly. “Better than fine, actually.”

“Then why not just tell me?”

“I can’t explain it in only a few words.”

“Sure you can. You’re a clever guy.”

Nao stopped in his tracks and looked around while nervously scratching his jaw. Once he was confident nobody was close enough to overhear them, he leaned in with a whisper.

“It’s about that mithril dagger you loaned me. Something rather unexpected happened while I was working on it.”

The Hero of Magic took another few glances at his surroundings before resuming with a smile so goofy it made him seem like a little kid.

“It became an Artifact!”

Part Two

The Bryric mansion’s atrium was a sight to behold. Vibrant green grass, fruit-bearing trees, and flower-sprouting bushes could be seen everywhere in this spacious indoor garden. The arched roof was made out of clear glass panes held up by a steel frame, allowing for an unobstructed view of the cosmos. It was a rare sight in Azurvale, since there were very few sizable gaps in the hylt canopy to allow stargazing from the ground. Such spots were highly valued by both businesses and pedestrians, so the fact the Bryrics had claimed one of them further cemented their reputation as land barons.

The romantic view wasn’t why Nao had brought Keira here, though. It was because this area was as close to a private space as he could find among the areas where guests were allowed. There were several sharply-dressed guards posted around the atrium’s edge, and there were two or three visitors admiring the scenery, but it was practically deserted compared to the main ballroom. There was very little risk of anyone overhearing about the birth of a new Artifact in here. Even if it was a momentous achievement that would earn him a lot of fame and praise, that wasn’t what the Hero of Magic wanted. He felt this was a deeply personal affair and wanted to keep it as private as possible – the exact opposite of Keira’s usual way of doings things.

Meanwhile, the catgirl in question was desperately trying to contain her inner Boxxy-ness while Kuro followed along, as he wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard otherwise.

“You sure clean up nice for a scrawny little runt,” he told her casually.

“Almost thought someone was impersonating you when you were introduced earlier.”

The elder sibling was being his usual abrasive self, but this time around it wasn’t bothering Boxxy in the slightest. It sure felt nice not having that power creep stuff undermine its emotional stability. However, the relationship between Keira and Kuro was at a stage best described as

‘frenemies,’ so it was appropriate she react with at least a little hostility.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” she visibly cringed. “This outfit was Rowie’s idea, and I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“I’m kind of in the same boat,” Nao sighed. “That Clash of Fate stunt you pulled told the entire capital we were here, so we were dragged into this fancy-pants party more or less by force. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad. The food smells amazing and… and…!

Hatchoo!”

Both of the guys let out a snorting giggle. They had no idea Keira had such a cute sneeze, especially since she usually acted quite boyish.

“Ugh, this place is much colder than the main hall,” she mumbled while rubbing her shoulders.

“Is it? Doesn’t seem that bad to me,” commented Kuro.

“You’re wearing more than a single scrap of fabric, though.”

“Oh, right. How does that thing even stay on?”

“Magic.”

“Figures. Certainly isn’t your tiny tits holding it up. Are you even wearing anything underneath?”

“You wanna die or something, ya overgrown fleabag?” she growled in response.

“A little. Would beat being bored out of my skull, at least.”

“Give it a rest you two. It’s Aurora Eve, for pity’s sake. Here, Keira, you can borrow this for now.”

Nao opened up his Item Box, took out a blue-tinted fur coat, and handed the folded garment to Keira. It looked plenty warm on its own, but was also enchanted to shield its wearer from the harshest of blizzards.

“It’s overkill, but should keep you nice and warm.”

“Oh, wow! Thanks, Nao!”

The catgirl eagerly accepted and unfurled it, though rather than putting it on right away, she brought it up to her nose and inhaled deeply.

“Don’t sniff it!” protested the owner.

“S-sorry, it just smells really nice,” she commented with a fascinated smile.

“Did you shampoo the fur or something?”

“Just put it on already!”

The scantily clad girl did as instructed and threw on the blue coat, much to Nao’s relief.

He was hiding it well, but that ridiculously skimpy outfit was too much for the pure-hearted bookworm to bear. This solution wasn’t ideal since the
coat did little to cover the catgirl’s smooth legs, but it still did wonders for her modesty. Kuro, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in her at all. He liked his women like he liked his pancakes – sweet, stacked, and, if at all possible, without some other guy’s dick in them. From his point of view, the Hero of Chaos failed on all counts except the last, though she was still undeniably taken.

Nao had the other two follow him around the atrium until he found a wide patch of grass around a thick oak-like tree with white leaves, almost like an exotic indoor mini-park.

“Yeah, this will do. Here, Keira. This is for you.”

He casually reached into his Item Box and pulled out a glass case with a blue cushion, upon which rested a single mithril dagger. However, this one looked distinctly different from the one Boxxy had lent him. Although the material was the same, the blade was asymmetric and slightly curved, appearing more like a miniature cutlass than a stabbing weapon. It also had a ball-shaped lump of mithril at the end of the hilt as a sort of pommel and the blade’s edge held a slight pink sheen.

“You sure this is mine?” she quizzically cocked her head.

“Quite sure. The weapon underwent something of a metamorphosis when I unlocked its full potential.”

“Huh, didn’t know daggers could do that,” Keira mused as she took the glass case. “How did you even manage to make this happen?”

“I’m… not entirely certain, to be honest. I had formulated a series of enchantments to weave into it, but it showed an anomalous reaction when I tried to give it Recall. The result is in your hands.”

“Recall? What’s that?”

“Kuro, a demonstration if you will? Just try not to damage our host’s lovely garden.”

“Sure.”

The towering Berserker whipped his arm out, and a rather large combat knife popped out of his sleeve into his waiting palm. He flung it at the base of the white-leafed oak, burying it up to the hilt in the moist soil. A few
seconds later, the weapon disappeared with a tiny flash of light and a barely audible pop, then reappeared in Kuro’s hand.

“That’s so cool!” Keira’s eyes practically sparkled. “You’d never have to worry about being disarmed or running out of throwing knives!”

“That’s kind of the point, girlie,” stated the elder wolfkin as he hid the blade. “Well, this is more of a backup weapon, but it does the job.”

“How did you get that past the guards, though? I thought weapons were not allowed inside.”

That also wasn’t the only blade on his person according to Boxxy’s MLG.

“Oh yeah, they tried to confiscate it, but I took a page out of your book and dared them to take it from me while giving them the ol’ mad-eye. Worked like a charm!”

“I- I see… Glad I could be of help, I guess?”

“Well, no, that was a lie. Nao just said he wouldn’t come if we had to give up all our weapons, so they made an exception.”

“Uh… Okay… So, what about this one?” she looked down to her freshly enchanted blade. “Can it do the popping thing?”

“It was supposed to,” Nao replied, “but, like I said, there was an anomalous reaction and the enchantment failed.”

“And… this was a good thing?”

“Absolutely. I ran a few more experiments afterwards and was able to determine that the weapon had a rather ridiculous affinity with spatial manipulation magic that threw off my calculations. Mithril is something of a living metal and has been known to adapt and evolve to its environment, but that’s precisely why that specific affinity is so rare. I can’t even begin to imagine what this item has been through for it to develop such a thing!”

Boxxy could, though. The weapon in question was one of its oldest possessions. It and its twin had spent almost nine months inside the monster’s Storage, a pocket dimension sustained by what was undoubtedly space-attuned magic. If mithril really was as adaptable as Nao claimed, that
was the quirk’s most likely cause. Not that Keira would reveal such a thing, though dropping a hint could turn out worthwhile.

“I wouldn’t know either,” she lied. “I only just got it a few weeks ago. But if it’s about space magic, perhaps someone kept it in an Item Box like yours for a really long time?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted, “but it’s not possible. An unenchanted piece of forged mithril would need to spend decades in such a space to be affected. And, by my estimate, this one is only around ten years old. Fifteen tops. I sincerely doubt it remained stored that entire time.

Something truly extraordinary must have happened for it to turn out this way.”

Keira returned her gaze to the weapon as she mulled over those words, her eyesight fixated on the distinct pink glow around the blade’s edge. Boxxy then realized that the suspected Divine-ranked gemstone in its possession was the likely culprit. After all, this shiny stabber was one of dozens of items in its Storage at the time of its death, which would have been lost forever if the bizarre jewel hadn’t returned them all. This revelation also led the shapeshifter to consider whether Agent of Chaos had a finger in this, but the Skill had yet to finish whatever it was doing as far as the monster was aware.

However, the matter at hand was far more important than a bunch of what-ifs and maybes.

“So… what sort of options did you end up giving it?” asked Keira.

“Right. Uh, I had them written down somewhere… Oh, there it is!”

Boxxy greedily snatched the piece of paper as soon as Nao took it out of his pocket, the shiny-obsessed creature no longer able to contain its curiosity. It was a standard Item Appraisal form, which made it much easier to absorb its information.

Name: Riftcleaver

Maker: Various

Type: Dagger

Quality: Artifact

Offense: A-

Defense: B-

Durability: C+

Magic Amplification: 25% Space, -10% Gravity Enchantments: Severing Edge, Self-Repair, Greater Dexterity, Bound by Blood, Innate Ability

Estimated Value: Priceless

Notes:

A dagger originally forged out of pure mithril by the dwarven smiths of Einharvel. It boasts superior sharpness and a high affinity for teleportation and spatial manipulation magic. The weapon has gained a unique ability as a direct result of the collaboration between Nao Shoki, Hero of Magic, and Keira Morgana, Hero of Chaos. Its Innate Ability is Reverse Recall.

There were a few questionable points, to say the least. For instance, the so-called ‘collaboration.’ That wasn’t the word Boxxy would use, though it was undeniable that it was just as responsible for the item’s creation as Nao.

The fact that its alias was recorded was also quite strange. As far as the monster was aware, these results were derived from meta-magical information that only Scribes could read. Boxxy wasn’t complaining, though it wondered how and why Keira’s name was the one imprinted on the dagger. On second thought, this was probably Nao’s doing. Whether consciously or not, he must have recorded it as such since he had no idea his ‘collaborator’ was a fictional character.

Names aside, the item’s practical statistics seemed a bit… disappointing.

The offensive and defensive ratings had gone up a bit, and it had some useful-sounding properties, but it was rather lackluster compared to Voidcaller or Winter’s Bite. The durability rating had decreased, too. Self-Repair would probably help, but it was hard to call this outcome a significant upgrade. Then again, it wasn’t necessarily performance that set Artifacts aside from lesser items. Most relics came with their own Innate Ability, and Boxxy’s old friend had acquired one of its own. Whether this turned out to be a good weapon or an amazing one hinged entirely on this unique property, though its name didn’t make its function obvious.

“Reverse Recall? What’s that supposed to be?” Keira asked.

“It’s quite self-evident, isn’t it?” Nao seemed stumped.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it was, genius.”

“Right. Well, instead of returning to the owner’s hand, the weapon teleports the user to its position. It doesn’t seem to have a weight or distance limit per-se, but the cost increases proportionally with both. By my estimate, it takes 1 MP to transfer 1 kilogram of matter 5 meters away.”

“Hmm… What if I don’t have the MP to make it happen?”

“Then the magic will refuse to activate. You don’t need to worry about it backfiring or anything.”

“But, how do you know? You’ve never seen this Reverse Recall thing before, right?”

“Nope, I haven’t. Which is why me and Kuro stayed up all night putting it through its paces. I assure you, I’d never give you anything if I wasn’t sure it was safe to handle.”

“G-give? You mean I can just have this?!”

“Of course! It was your weapon to begin with, and I’ve already had my fun.

It’s only right I return it.”

“But… don’t you want it for yourself? You made it an Artifact!”

“This is true, but I wouldn’t have any real use for it. Replicating the enchantment is probably impossible, as the base item was rather unique.

Besides, the whole point of borrowing it was because I wanted to make you an extra special gift, something to show there are no hard feelings even though you dumped me.”

“Oh my God! Thanks, Nao, you’re the best!”

Keira threw her arms around the wolfkin and hopped excitedly against him for a second or two before pulling away with the case in her hands. As for Nao, he was left rather stunned, embarrassed, and a little disappointed. If he hadn’t given Keira that coat, he probably would have felt a pair of soft bumps pressing against his chest.

“I can give it a try right away, right?!” she asked while bouncing in place.

“Should be fine, I think. Just give it a few drops of blood to enact the Bound by Blood. I know it seems a bit creepy, but it’s necessary if the item
is to recognize you and you alone as its owner. Otherwise, it wouldn’t know what to teleport, you see.”

“Oh, okay! Wait, you already tested it, right? Doesn’t that mean it’s bound to Kuro?”

“It was, but an Enchanter with sufficient knowledge can undo the binding.

Right now, it’s dormant and eagerly awaiting a new owner, which is why I had to put it in that special container. Wouldn’t want to risk anyone but you getting a hold of it, after all.”

“Good thinking. Actually, mind if I keep the case, too?”

“What, really?” he cracked a smile. “It’s just a glass box.”

“Yeah, but… it’s kinda nice.”

Bit of an odd thing to take a liking to in Nao’s opinion, though far from the strangest thing Keira had said or done in his presence.

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

He had a bunch more of those in his extra-dimensional pockets anyway.

“Awesome! Now, then…”

The catgirl opened the case and grasped the dagger without further ado. She gave it a few trial swings to see how it felt. It was definitely the same weight and balance as before, just in a slightly different shape and carrying various magical properties. She lightly pricked the tip of her finger, letting a dollop of her blood run down the dagger’s blade. The resulting crimson streak was absorbed by the radiant white metal, causing it to let out a gentle white glow that subsided moments later.

[Riftcleaver is now bound to you.]

That confirmation was accompanied by the familiar sensation of new information flowing into Boxxy’s mind. It was made distinctly aware of the weapon’s position and orientation, almost as if it had become a part of its body. It also completely understood how to activate the Reverse Recall and was able to instinctively approximate how much MP it would consume. The eager shapeshifter hurriedly took a good look around the garden. It made sure nobody was watching and threw the knife at the same patch of dirt that

Kuro had aimed for earlier. Keira stepped back until she was about ten meters away and then uttered the command phrase that came with the aforementioned burst of data.

“Recallacer!”

A film of purplish light draped over the red-haired beastkin before it went away with an audible popping noise. It was a similar effect to the regular Recall enchantment Kuro had demonstrated, just on a larger scale.

However, Keira had not budged a single bit. The same could not be said about the newly created Artifact.

*SKRLANK*

The jarring sound of shattering mithril could be heard throughout the garden as the blade exploded into a dozen fragments. Thankfully, it was buried in the soil, so the resulting shrapnel merely kicked up a bit of dirt rather than causing any sort of collateral damage. Unfortunately, that was hardly consolation to any of the parties involved. Except maybe for Kuro, because he was usually the one to suffer whenever Nao’s experiments went awry. It was his personal experience with this scenario that caused him to head off the approaching guards to reassure them everything was under control.

“… So. That happened,” muttered Nao in a slightly-too-casual manner.

“‘That happened?’ Is that all you have to say?!” snapped Keira. “What the shit was that?! The thing self-destructed!”

“I don’t get it. I ran so many trials and tests,” the guy mumbled as he inspected the debris. “The mithril was a bit destabilized from the transformation, but this sort of backlash shouldn’t have happened. I made sure of it.”

“Don’t ignore me!”

Keira was about to go ballistic when Kuro stepped in between the two Heroes.

“Easy there, runt, there’s no need to go into psycho-bitch mode,” he grumbled as he held out one of his own mithril daggers. “Here, you can have this as a replacement for the one my brother broke. I had a feeling this
would happen, so I prepared one that’s every bit as good as the one you gave Nao. Let’s not raise a fuss and let him do his thing, alright?”

The catgirl scornfully glared at the taller beastkin for a few moments before snatching the blade. Boxxy could immediately tell it was just as light and well-balanced as the one that just shattered, but its make was different.

Rather than a dirk, which was a long thrusting weapon, this was more of a parrying dagger due to the rather large, curved guard at the blade’s base. It was perfect for catching an enemy’s sword, but would make it difficult to slide the otherwise lethal edge all the way into someone’s soft spot. It was a weapon meant for self-defense rather than assassination. While not terribly suited to Boxxy’s preferences, it was a perfect match for Keira’s. The girl gave it a few quick swings and thrusts to get a feel for it then nodded.

“I’m no expert on daggers, but I guess this will do.”

“No expert, huh? Hard to believe coming from someone with a throwing arm like yours,” noted Kuro.

“That’s mostly due to Projectile Mastery. Rapiers are one thing, but I’m a total newbie when it comes to close quarters combat with blades this short.”

“That’s precisely why I’m giving you that one. It’s only got the standard suite of enchantments on it to make it sharper and stronger. No Self-Repair, but has a decent Strength boost that should help you and those skinny twigs you call arms block incoming attacks. It’s a lot simpler than the stuff Nao normally comes up with, but that also makes it more reliable.”

The older wolfkin raised a very good point. Tricks and gimmicks had their uses, but once seen through, their effectiveness decreased significantly.

Even if Reverse Recall opened up a lot of options regarding mobility, it would only work once against an observant opponent since subsequent teleportations were easily predictable and exploitable. A deadlier, more durable weapon was definitely preferable when facing formidable foes.

“Consistency trumps potential, I guess,” Keira mused.

“Oh? Those are some nice words, pipsqueak. I guess miracles really do happen on Aurora Eve!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, jackass, but it’s just something I read in a book.

You should try that once in a while, then you might graduate to being at
least as dumb as you look. Anyway, I have nowhere to put this, so while I appreciate the gesture, I’d prefer if you hung onto it for now. Oh, and this.”

She quickly crouched down, picked up the glass display case, placed the parrying dagger inside, then handed them both to Kuro.

“Fair enough. I’ll leave it at your guild tomorrow morning.”

The man grabbed the fancy box and tapped it against his brother’s shoulder.

This must’ve been a signal of some kind as Nao grabbed it and stuffed it into his Item Box without taking his eyes off the shattered Artifact’s remains. He was mumbling something about coefficients and a ‘matter matrix.’

“Keira,” he called out after a while, “you wouldn’t happen to have any magic items on you, would you?”

“Err, not really? Other than my clothes, I mean.”

“Oh, right. Hmm… No, never mind. They wouldn’t cause this sort of reaction.”

“Which reaction? Did you figure out what happened back there?”

“Well, from what I can tell, the Reverse Recall ability backfired, much like a person botching a Spell. The dagger bore the entirety of the subsequent recoil, which was why it, uh, exploded. However, I can’t think of any reason why this would happen, other than another enchantment’s interference. It’d have to be a powerful one and of opposite elemental alignment, but you clearly don’t have anything like that on you.”

“Oh…”

If Nao was talking about gravity-based magic items, then Keira did indeed have a couple on her person. More specifically, two of the three iron rings on her left hand. One reduced her mass by 40% while another did the same with her weight. Both were gravity-based enchantments and relatively powerful ones, too. Yet, despite wearing both at all times, the catgirl was still heavier than someone of her size and stature should be, so there was no way Boxxy could openly admit to that. Thankfully, the shapeshifter had an easy out. It involved a bit of borderline blaspheme, but the monster had a feeling Henry wouldn’t mind taking one for the team.

“I’m sorry. It was because of Chaotic Disposition. It activated just as I invoked the command word and it said something about giving me my own gravitational pull for ten seconds. I was just so startled by the shattering that I didn’t realize it could be relevant.”

This outright fabrication would surely satisfy Nao’s curiosity without giving him a reason to perform a thorough investigation of Keira’s belongings.

“I… I see… so it was just some incredibly bad luck…”

He definitely seemed to buy it, though it did little to console him. This was his first and potentially only Artifact, so having it break beyond repair due to circumstances outside his control was quite frustrating. If the root cause was a mistake or oversight on his part, then at least he would’ve learned from the experience. There was nothing to be gained from a cruel twist of chance that reduced all the effort, enthusiasm, and emotion he put into the item into a pile of shiny scrap. He didn’t even bother questioning how extremely unlikely this scenario seemed since it involved the Hero of Chaos. It was one of the few times where Boxxy’s aura of uncertainty worked in its favor.

“Or incredibly good luck,” the girl argued. “If this had happened to me out in the field rather than in a controlled environment, I could’ve gotten injured. Or worse!”

It was a legitimate excuse that the shapeshifter used to convince itself that it really didn’t want that stupid Artifact anyway.

“… I think I’ve caught a glimpse of why you were chosen as Gilbert’s Hero,” said Nao with a tired smile. “I’ve never met anyone with such a unique perspective as yours.”

“Uh, no, I’m not really all that special. I’m just a natural pessimist that always considers the worst case scenario. That way I’m either right and ready for it, or I’m pleasantly surprised and can truly appreciate the good things in life. It’s a win-win in my book. Being a Hero of Chaos made me this way, not the other way around.”

“Heh. I suppose the Hero shapes the God just as much as the God shapes the Hero.”

“… Where did you hear that phrase?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s something Lunar once told me when I asked her why she chose me specifically. Why do you ask?”

“Because it’s weird. Vinny said the exact same thing, though the context was a bit different.”

‘A bit different’ was putting it mildly. What actually happened was that the Goddess of Misfortune had uttered those words to Teresa during their confrontation and Boxxy just happened to overhear them.

“Not surprising. Our patrons seem to get along quite well, so they probably share some values,” claimed the other Hero.

“They’re friends? I had no idea.”

“It’s just my impression. Lunar’s tone the last time we spoke made me think she was rather fond of Jabba-Jabba. I guess if our patrons get along, it’s inevitable we’d get along, too.”

“Mmm, I suppose. What are we going to do now, though? About the Artifact, I mean.”

“Me and Kuro are going to explain to those stern-looking men over there what happened and get their help in digging up the remains. I hope you won’t mind if I keep the shards, but throwing away good mithril like that would be a terrible waste.”

“Fair enough. Actually, can I keep one or two as a souvenir? Even if it didn’t survive for very long, it still had my name on it.”

Even if broken, they were still shiny with a unique tint to the white gold.

“Haha, that it did. Alright, I’ll put aside a few pieces for you.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“That’s okay. Easy come, easy go, I suppose. The next Artifact I make will be completely on purpose!”

“That’s the spirit! Anyway, I don’t want to keep my date waiting any longer, so I’ll see you later. Ah, you’ll probably want your coat back.”

“You should hang onto that for a while longer. The party will probably come back in a few hours, so you can keep it until then.”

“Good point. I’ll see you later.”

The two Heroes parted ways and went about their respective evenings.

Keira returned to the ballroom and left Nao’s coat with one of the maids before seeking out Rowana. She found the elf mingling with the daughters of other affluent families in an attempt to avoid sitting with her parents.

Viessa Stockton was actually among them. Her deep blue hair and eyes gave her an enchanting presence, just as Rowana said they did. More importantly, it seemed that the redhead’s careless statements wouldn’t cause any trouble. Apparently, Viessa’s family had already figured out she was a

‘carpet muncher’ when it became public knowledge that her platinum blonde friend-with-benefits was one, too. Incidentally, the catgirl inquired about that phrase and learned that it did indeed allude to something quite rude, just as she suspected.

After a bit more socializing, Keira and Rowana finally had that dance. The elf had already downed a few drinks and was feeling a bit tipsy, not to mention frisky. She slipped a hand underneath Keira’s butt cleavage more than a few times as they danced in order to massage her backside, though she was nowhere as discreet as she thought. The redhead meekly reprimanded her each time, but didn’t outright tell her to stop since Keira was supposed to secretly enjoy having her sensitive behind played with.

This dragged on for another half hour, but the couple inevitably had to go back to their table.

Upon their return it quickly became evident that Elias had pacified the parents and convinced them to postpone talking of their daughter’s chastity until they were at a more suitable time and place. The party continued smoothly, with an extravagant dinner and a number of performances by dance troupes, singers, and comedians. As the clocks approached midnight, the guests were kindly invited into the atrium for the highlight of the evening, just as Nao had predicted. Keira asked a servant to fetch her borrowed coat and quickly put it on, much to Rowana’s dissatisfaction.

However, Boxxy couldn’t help but feel a bit curious as to why they were gathered here. It understood the moment when the year changed over was a significant one, but this seemed like a strange place to mark its passing.

Still, it made sure to play along since it couldn’t just say this was the first time Keira had experienced celebrating the new year. After all, she supposedly came from a loving family that met an unfortunate end.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”

That was why Boxxy looked up at the night sky along with everyone else while they collectively chanted a countdown.

“Six! Five! Four!”

Seriously though, was something as trivial as the date changing worth getting so worked up?

“Three! Two!”

Keeping in mind that its perspective and values were quite different from that of actual people, Boxxy found it quite odd that even jaded-looking old geezers were so into this pointless ritual.

“One!”

Also, why were the staff dimming the lights so much?

“Zero!”

In that moment, the starry sky was swept away by a mysterious multi-colored glow reminiscent of a drunken rainbow. It drifted from east to west, rapidly drowning out the presence of any and all celestial bodies until the heavens looked like an abstract art piece. Clouds of light waxed and waned at random, filling the audience with a sense of childlike wonderment as they cheered and applauded. The ethereal light show continued to linger as the sound of celebratory bells filled the entire capital.

Keira felt Rowana hug her tightly from the side, snapping her out of her stunned reverie.

“The aurora seems a lot more beautiful this year, doesn’t it?” she said dreamily.

“It’s incredible…”

That awe-filled statement reflected Boxxy’s inner thoughts. As a connoisseur of all things shiny, the monster was quite moved by the splendid display. All of its grievances and complaints were instantly wiped away and replaced with a single thought.

I want one.

Unfortunately, its wish to obtain an aurora of its own was just as unlikely of being fulfilled as its ridiculous dream of laying claim to an actual star.

“Also, that coat smells really nice,” the elf added.

“I know, right?”

Though Boxxy and all the other guests were busy looking up, they failed to realize that someone was looking down at them. She was a slender woman, wrapped head to toe in concealing clothing that obscured all her features aside from the sharp black eyes and mutilated elven ears. She was lying down on the edge of a hylt branch overlooking the mansion where Keira currently was, looking over the well-dressed crowd through the glass ceiling with the aid of an enchanted spyglass. The highly suspicious individual stood up and put away her magic tool.

“The target’s presence has been confirmed,” she reported inside her head.

“Commencing operation.”

“Understood,” replied the Psionic at the other end of the thought-link.

“Let’s go nab ourselves a Hero, shall we?”

With that, the half-elf assassin codenamed Edge leapt off her perch, with many more shrouded figures following suit.

Part Three

The affluent guests kept admiring the radiant aurora long after the initial celebratory cheers had quieted down. It was a display of natural beauty that could only be seen once a year and only for fifteen minutes at a time. It was a rare sight one would never tire of regardless how many times they’d seen it. The waxing and waning of the ethereal colors in the sky were both entertaining to watch and quite moving on an emotional level. Just looking upon it reminded one how petty their grievances and problems truly were and kindled the forgiving, charitable spirit present within all enlightened.

However, this influence was magical in nature, as any warm or fuzzy feelings brought on by the aurora would rapidly fade once it dissipated.

Until then, the people would keep staring at the sky and enjoying the moment. Boxxy did the same, but for entirely different reasons. The aurora had absolutely no effect on its psyche since it was a monster and had highly developed mental defenses besides, but it was nevertheless a shiny view it had never experienced before.

“Master! I’m seeing suspicious movement within the mansion!” reported Claws. “I think you have guests. The uninvited, stabby kind!”

The shapeshifter’s mind rapidly switched to work mode. Just as Boxxy suspected, there were those who could not pass up on this golden opportunity. Strictly speaking, this party was an extremely juicy target for anyone with nefarious motives. The guards were spread rather thin, and there seemed to be very few magical security measures. Save for a few beastkin-shaped exceptions, the guests were all unarmed weaklings that wielded political and economic power rather than any form of martial or mystical might. Any big-shot adventurers that might’ve been in attendance were out of town doing their own thing. The dormant golems on the front lawn wouldn’t be much help either since it would take too long for them to make it all the way over here.

Honestly, it was almost as if Mr. and Mrs. Bryric wanted their party to be attacked.

“Is it those Foundation guys again?”

“I can’t tell, Master. The ones I spotted appeared to be human, but it’s hard to tell since they’re all masked.”

“What are they doing?”

“I saw them take out a couple of guards and a waiter then drag their bodies off somewhere. They seem to be taking control of the mansion before they enact their plan.”

“Not very elf-centric, these intruders,” Xera weighed-in. “I do not think it is the same organization that tried to capture me, Master.”

“Who cares?! It’s an attack in force!” Kora mind-roared. “Let’s just stomp their heads flat and sort out the details later!”

Since Boxxy was expecting trouble, it had all three of its familiars on standby. The webstalker was hiding in the yard keeping an eye on things, the archfiend was lurking inside the sewers beneath the house, and the djinn was posing as a guest. Now that the enemy had shown themselves, the immediate question was their goal. Their objective was most likely one or more of the high-value targets within the atrium, but it was impossible to narrow down which individuals were in danger.

“Get in position to counter-attack, but don’t do anything just yet,” it commanded. “Let them make the first move, then we’ll see.”

It was best to take the wait-and-see approach until the unknown intruders showed their hand. Sure, there would be some innocent casualties, but Boxxy couldn’t care less about a bunch of unimportant staff members. It wasn’t until five minutes later when the aurora was starting to slowly fade away that the shapeshifter finally spotted suspicious activity in its vicinity.

The creature’s keen senses noticed the guards around the edge of the atrium were being silently taken out and dragged away before their bodies hit the floor. It wouldn’t be long before things turned hectic, so it decided to take some last minute precautions. Boxxy felt pretty confident about its personal safety, but there was a certain valuable asset it wanted to make sure escaped this thing alive.

“Kuro, this is Keira. I think there may be trouble brewing, so be ready.”

The towering wolfkin’s ears twitched a bit when he heard the Whisper Wind message. He tore his eyes away from the fading light show overhead
and calmly glanced around the atrium, noting the sudden absence of guards.

He scanned over the crowd, his height allowing him to easily locate the catgirl’s head of crimson hair. Their eyes met. He gave her a tiny nod to signify he understood while sliding a hand underneath the coat of his white uniform. The party crashers proceeded with the crashing of said party less than a minute later. There were a series of loud bangs all around the gathered crowd followed by a thick layer of gray smoke. The guests naturally began to panic and grow unruly since their initial thought was

‘fire’ rather than ‘smoke bombs.’ The misunderstanding was cleared up when over fifty masked figures armed almost literally to the teeth stepped out of the smog.

A slender woman who appeared to be the leader took a few steps forward.

“Happy new year, ya filthy twigs,” she said loudly and spitefully. “As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, me and my associates have you surrounded, so nobody try anything funny lest they want a knife in the face.”

The gathered elite began buzzing amongst themselves when they saw the various bladed weapons and miniature crossbows pointed in their direction.

Thankfully, nobody was stupid enough to make any suspicious moves.

Even if there were those among them that had combat-oriented Jobs, they recognized that agitating these people would only lead to all sorts of casualties and collateral damage.

“Very good! Now, if you rich fucks could just quietly hand over the fuzzy-eared Hero, we’ll be on our way!”

All eyes immediately converged on Keira as Rowana protectively clung to her from behind, face pale and lip quivering. The catgirl responded by placing a hand on hers and giving her a quiet whisper of ‘it’ll be alright.’

“No, not that one, you morons,” said the assault leader. “The other one.”

The crowd’s attention gradually shifted to Nao and Kuro. The Hero of Magic had an extremely worried look on his face, though it was not exactly a frightened one as this wasn’t his first time being targeted. The same could be said about his bodyguard, whose sneer made it obvious he had no intention of complying. Influenced by the aurora, none of the guests seemed particularly willing to just send him to the slaughter either. The intruder
probably expected this, judging by the wide smile that could be seen even under her face mask.

“Well! Hard way it is th-!”

*Fwahooon*

However, the one to make the first move wasn’t her, Kuro, Nao, Boxxy, or any of its familiars. A strange wave of something passed through the entire mansion, causing the glass ceiling to rattle and momentarily distort everyone’s vision. A large number of the guests looked upwards almost on instinct, only to realize that a stupidly large object was now looming in the sky. They could only make out the underside of its silhouette against the fading aurora, which seemed strangely boat-shaped. A full suit of solid adamantite armor crashed through the glass ceiling before anyone could do or say anything, landing on the ground between the two parties with a floor-cracking impact.

“Gotcha, ya sneaky shits!” Hilda shouted as she readjusted the grip on her stupidly large battleaxe. “We have ye right where we want ye!”

The dwarven Berserker wasn’t the only one to drop down from the flying vessel, which was now shining a series of blinding lights down upon the otherwise gloomy atrium. Elven agents bearing official-looking badges and insignias upon their chests and shoulders descended through the broken ceiling and formed a protective wall around the civilians. There were quite a few VIPs among them, though Lady Imiryl and Paladin Lichter were the only other ones Boxxy had personally met.

“Attention, agents of the Gilded Hand!” said a magically-amplified voice from above. “This is the Ishigar Republic’s Foreign Intelligence Bureau!

You are outnumbered and outclassed! Lay down your arms and surrender, or we will be forced to use lethal force!”

“Plan C!”

The leader of the would-be Hero-nappers obviously did not comply and ordered her men to fight back. She barely finished saying the words when a large number of alchemically-prepared smoke bombs were thrown towards the FIB soldiers. Many pellets were deflected or disabled before they could do any harm, but some inevitably managed to disperse their payload. The
area was instantly plunged in a thick, purple-tinged miasma different from the dark gray smoke screen from before. It was a powerful tranquilizer toxin normally reserved for crowd dispersal and riot suppression. Both groups of spies had masks that shielded them from the effects, but the same could not be said about the guests, who naturally began panicking. The situation instantly descended into chaos as the Gilded Hand attacked indiscriminately. This forced their elven counterparts to defend and bear the brunt of the assault while their resident VIP Wizard worked to get the civilians out of there.

“Gate!”

Imiryl created a large shimmering portal on the floor, and the panicking noncombatants were pushed through while the FIB agents held off the assailants. The guests were successfully evacuated in less than a minute.

They were all coughing and wheezing with tears running down their faces and legs shaking. A quarter of them were injured and bleeding, but there had been no fatalities thanks to the FIB agents’ swift response and selfless sacrifices. Keira, Rowana, and the rest of the Slyth family had also gotten out safely and were busy comforting each other. They were still recovering from the shock when the catgirl suddenly made a startling observation.

“Nao? Where’s Nao?!” she screamed. “Oh no, he must’ve been left behind!

I need to go look for him!”

“Keira, don’t!” shouted her girlfriend as she grabbed her by the arm. “You can’t! I only just got you back!”

“Those guys were after my friend, Rowie! The whole point of becoming an adventurer was so that I wouldn’t have to abandon those I cared about when things turned out like this! If I ran away and something happened to him, I would hate myself for the rest of my life!”

“That’s just the aurora talking, calm down,” Doris spoke sternly. “You need to stop being overly dramatic and calmly analyze the situation. If you go down there in your current emotional, unarmed, and unarmored state, you’ll only get yourself and others killed. Trust me, I tried clashing with a few of those assholes on the way out, and they are not pushovers.”

The Slyth family’s matron held up her right arm, showing a massive gash that ran the length of her forearm.

“Even if I’m retired and out of shape, I’m still a Level 82 Monk. It takes serious effort to pierce through my Ki. Please believe me when I say that a cub like you stands no chance against those professional killers.”

The Hero of Chaos was not one to deny reality, so she was forced to give up on involving herself further. She collapsed on the floor and hugged her knees in defeat while her girlfriend did her best to comfort and reassure her.

The male half of the Slyth family was busy taking in their surroundings. It would appear the evacuation point was the deck of the flying ship that had come to their rescue. Samulus and Elias recognized the vessel as the Endeavor, a pleasure-cruiser kept in the air by the blimp-like balloon overhead and a constant stream of wind magic. However, neither could determine how this lumbering behemoth arrived seemingly out of nowhere.

The vessel was so slow that it had little use beyond serving as a mobile playground for the wealthy and powerful. It was a civilian ship, not a military barge, yet the FIB had chosen to commandeer it for tonight’s operation.

Unbeknownst to the civilians, the Endeavor had been outfitted with an experimental Flash Drive. It was an arcane device that allowed the ship to instantly travel hundreds of kilometers via teleportation, rivaling the Republic’s Forest Gates in terms of range and transport capacity. However, such a fantastical feature came at a price. The strain of the act left the prototype Flash Drive in tatters while draining the ship’s magical power reserves. The Endeavor’s spatial transportation systems would need to be replaced, repaired, and refueled before they could be engaged again. The Flash Drive’s creators were unable to solve this design flaw without making it at least twice as big, but it would then be too heavy to fit on the ship.

Thus, the FIB had to make this trap count since, once committed to the operation, the Endeavor would be a sitting duck.

That was going to become a bigger problem than expected, as it would appear the Gilded Hand had air support of their own.

“We have incoming from the south!” shouted a voice across the deck.

“Royal griffins, three of them!”

All hands immediately looked towards the direction specified to see a trio of massive, winged shadows were indeed on approach. This did not bode well. Griffins were mighty beasts on their own, but these Ranked Up
versions could wield powerful wind and lightning magic on top of their immense physical prowess. They were obviously a diversion, but one the FIB could not ignore, lest the influential civilians in their care become catbird food. With no other choice, Imiryl, Lichter, and a few other big shot adventurers flew off to intercept them. The ones that stood out among the unfamiliar faces were a male Cryomancer riding a piece of flying ice and a female Priest with a pair of angelic wings similar to Lichter’s.

As for Keira, the only thing someone of her ability could do was sit, watch, and worry about Nao.

“That bastard Kuro better be doing his job,” she mumbled underneath her breath.

Thankfully, ‘that bastard’ was most definitely performing something that could be interpreted as ‘his job,’ though at the same time he was doing the exact opposite of ‘his Job.’ The towering wolfkin currently had his back to a corner, with Nao directly behind him. The Gilded Hand’s grunts had managed to separate them from the rest of the crowd during the confusion, forcing the two sworn brothers to fend for themselves. It seemed like an easy win for the half-elf assassin codenamed Edge, as taking down brutish oafs was something any Rogue worth their blade should be able to do.

However, there was one small problem.

“Damn, we’ve been had,” she grumbled while panting. “This guy’s not a Berserker at all!”

“Hahaha! Fell for it, did ya?” taunted Kuro as he twirled the pair of knives in his hands. “That’s what you get for listening in on people’s private conversations!”

‘The Hero’s bodyguard is a Berserker.’ This was the notion that both beastkin brothers worked to spread wherever they went. It was an intentional bit of misinformation they went to great lengths to reinforce, even if it meant subverting Appraisal reports or lying to new friends.

Thankfully, Kuro’s personality was naturally confrontational and abrasive, so he fit the Berserker stereotype perfectly whenever they were interacting with others. The Hero of Magic was a public figure that could come under attack at any point, so such underhanded precautions were necessary. It allowed them to maintain an element of surprise in case they were
ambushed. It had paid off in the past, and it would appear the trick had worked wonderfully yet again.

In actuality, Nao’s bodyguard was a Blade Dancer who specialized in using a multitude of knives, of which he had a rather ridiculous variety. Long ones, short ones, curved ones, straight ones, throwing ones, stabbing ones, slashing ones, wired ones, multi-pronged ones, poisoned ones, flaming ones, teleporting ones – he had them all. Yet, no matter how many he threw or left behind, he didn’t seem to run out. If one were to describe what fighting Kuro was like in as few words as possible, it would be ‘knives for days.’ It was almost as if the guy was just a bunch of blades held together by a military uniform.

Evidence of his handiwork could be seen all over the place. Two of the four masked goons that Edge brought with her were dead on the floor, while the other two were severely injured. The half-elf did not have a scratch on her, though, as she had used her subordinates as guinea pigs to see what this man was truly capable of when backed into a corner. His fighting style was certainly unorthodox, but it wasn’t an unknown to her. Kuro was something known in the spy business as a ‘sand spider,’ an elite combatant from the Pearly Dunes desert. Admittedly, being buddy-buddy with the Hero of Magic had given him access to a much wider array of trick weapons than the ones Edge had faced in the past, but it was definitely the same fighting style. The retractable daggers hidden in the soles of his boots and the way he used his flexible tail to kick up dust and dirt as a diversion were especially telling. If they were on his home turf, then his specially designed uniform would let him blend in with the pure white sands to become practically invisible. It would also work with the snow in the garden, but Kuro was cornered before he could get his brother outside.

To make things worse, his secret was out and he had used up almost all his tricks. With the bulk of the surprises out of the way, Edge felt confident she could take him. She had already managed to cut him on his shoulder and back while breaking one of his ribs with a point blank hand-to-hand technique yet suffered not a single scratch in return. She was, without a doubt, the faster of the two, and her opponent had to be mindful of the Hero-shaped handicap behind him, so he couldn’t fight as wildly as he pleased. The odds were definitely in Edge’s favor should the two go at it in a direct one-on-one confrontation.

Then again, she wouldn’t be much of a spy if she fought this guy fair and square.

“Yeeaaaargh!”

“Kuro?! What’s wroooaaaaaaah!”

Both of the wolfkin collapsed on the spot, screaming and clutching their heads as the Psionic codenamed Hook floated in from above.

“Took you long enough!” snapped the half-elf. “I hope you weren’t off trying to get another grudge match against Imiryl!”

“Doesn’t matter, we need to move,” he snarled. “Bandit’s pets are keeping the twigs busy, but this operation has dragged on too long. We’re attracting the wrong kind of attention.”

The bald man suddenly turned around and unleashed a wave of telekinetic energy with a swing of his arm. There was a loud thwacking noise as something was smacked out of thin air. It was a monstrous woman sporting an icy carapace and six bladed appendages poking out of her back. The tundra webstalker let out an aggressive hiss as she tumbled backwards and came to a stop on all fours. Or was that tens?

“Shit, what is that?!” Edge shouted as she turned to face the threat.

“It’s one of the Sandman’s pets,” Hook replied. “I’d know that creepy aura anywhere! Her master won’t be far behind!”

“My, how observant of you!”

A deep, booming voice washed over the scene as the unmistakable silhouette of Azurvale’s resident masked vigilante-turned-mercenary walked out from around a corner. He was a little over two meters tall, with a billowing dark blue cloak and mask obscuring all of his features aside from those glowing yellow eyes. He carried a grim-looking black staff with a demonic skull for a head, though his sheer size made it look more like a baton. There was no doubt in Hook’s mind it was the Sandman, as the dreadful chill running down his back instinctively told him this was an enemy of humanity.

“Edge, grab the package and run, I’ll follow behind!”

The Psionic wasn’t deluding himself into thinking he could beat someone this notorious. He was a Warlock of considerable power, so it was unlikely Hook’s Domination Spells, his main weapons, would have any effect.

However, his telekinetic abilities would allow him to easily stall the guy and his pets for as long as necessary to let his colleague complete their mission.

“Yeah, about that…”

Hearing the assassin’s voice, Hook turned around on the spot only to see that a second Sandman had appeared between them and their objective. He was literally at a loss for words, because he could not feel the presence of a mind from within that figure. Hardly surprising, considering Mirror Images were essentially meat dolls with no free will of their own. However, they could still use magic thanks to Boxxy’s Spirit Echo Skill.

“Massive Rejection!”

The body double beat the Psionic to the punch and unleashed a wave of concussive force. It crashed against Hook’s defensive barrier while Edge used him for cover. The two injured goons were not as quick on the uptake and were thrown towards the arachnid demon. Drea lunged forward and gutted them while they were still in mid-air then rapidly moved onto the other two, forcing the lithe assassin to move in and intercept her. One would think she was crazy to jump in against a thing with that many bladed limbs, but it wasn’t too different from fighting her way into that sand spider’s flurry of knives. The real Sandman unleashed a horizontal Reality Slash at the pair, forcing Hook to block it. It packed a much greater punch than the Psionic anticipated, so he couldn’t send it back like he normally would. He turned around towards the mindless body double when he heard it chanting something, but he was unable to stop it on account of the second Reality Slash headed towards his neck.

“Transfamiliar!”

The Mirror Image grabbed Nao and Kuro as it finished its Spell, and all three of them vanished in a puff of green smoke. The beastkin pair had thankfully passed out from the mental strain the Psionic put on them, so they were incapable of protesting or asking questions. Things were going
from bad to worse for the Gilded Hand agents, as the body double had swapped places with a certain murder-happy archfiend.

Kora let out a primal roar as she descended upon the Psionic, who had trouble knocking her back with his telekinesis since she was much heavier than the stalker. He still managed to stop her from getting close by throwing an uprooted tree at her, but that was a very temporary measure. Edge was holding off the other one by taking advantage of the fact that those scythe-tipped appendages couldn’t attack all at once without getting in each other’s way. Nevertheless, the invading pair realized this was not a fight they could win since the Sandman’s familiars were keeping them from stopping the master’s Spell-slinging. It was precisely the scenario Boxxy had been aiming for. The shapeshifter was confident in its victory and was already looking forward to seeing what Skills it could absorb from such prime specimens, though it was careful not to let arrogance cloud its judgement.

As the monster suspected, its enemy had more surprises on their side.

Boxxy felt its MLG react to a new threat approaching from behind at high speed. The shapeshifter was forced to interrupt its chanting in order to turn around and block the incoming overhead strike. A deep, gong-like noise resonated throughout the area as Boxxy’s Artifact-grade adamantite staff clashed against another one. The force behind that blow was so severe that the shapeshifter felt like its arms and legs were about to snap even though it avoided the brunt of the blow. This new intruder was a woman – a black-haired, yellow-eyed beauty with a face so thoroughly expressionless one might think her dead on the inside. She was dressed as just another of the Gilded Hand’s grunts, but she clearly was no ordinary assassin or spy. The absurd amount of strength behind the attack made it clear she was far superior in overall ability, not to mention that her choice of weapon was unsuitable for covert operations. Frankly speaking, Boxxy didn’t really need to see the angelic halo above her head or the brilliantly glowing wings sprouting from her back to recognize her.

She was the Ranked Up human who served as the personal secretary to Edward Allen, the former Spymaster of the Lodrak Empire. She was also Milo Faehorn’s former teammate, whom she killed during the war. She was a person whose past exploits, once uncovered by the Inquisition, had led to her gaining a rather outstanding bounty in both the Empire and the

Republic. Yet, at the same time, it was arguably by her hand that Edward Allen and his clandestine organization had fallen from grace.

She was Jennifer Jackson, the operative bearing the codename Zone, and the woman who was about to experience the sort of unintended consequences a forced Job Removal could have.

Part Four

Zone’s eyes twitched ever-so slightly when her full force blow was stopped dead. The sloppy block diffused none of the momentum or force behind the attack, yet this Caster was able to endure it without flinching. The fact that the Sandman was able to react to her presence and move fast enough to pull that off was a surprise, too. Physical ability aside, his staff was still in one piece after colliding with hers, so his equipment was nothing to be scoffed at either. After reevaluating the strength of her opponent, Zone immediately resumed her assault. Her staff became something of a blur as she unleashed a barrage of strikes at her target, denying the Warlock any opportunity to focus on magic. Just as she had established moments earlier, however, his martial prowess was far above what a Caster would normally have.

Despite coming at him from various angles and putting a ridiculous amount of strength behind each strike, she was unable to land a single clean hit. She felt she had the upper hand when it came to brute force, but this Sandman was definitely faster in spite of that towering body. He was clearly quite tough and had the weight advantage, so knocking him off balance proved quite difficult. Haphazard blocks became parries and parries became evasions as her opponent rapidly adapted to her combination attacks, proving he had experience to back up his physical prowess. However, unlike the time she fought Hilda during the war, Zone’s current opponent was lightly armored, leaving him vulnerable to her hand-to-hand techniques. The angelic Monk suddenly dashed forward, momentarily letting go of her staff as she pushed into the Sandman’s wide chest.

“Flurry of Blows, Rending Assault.”

She unleashed a combination of a Skill and a Martial Art. Her hands seemed to momentarily multiply as she instantly delivered a total of eight strikes. Her opponent had been caught off-guard by the sudden change in tempo and took the brunt of the blows. His cloak was shredded, and his torso was left covered in deep gashes that bled profusely, almost as if he had been mauled by a wild beast. The onslaught didn’t end there as Zone grasped the staff that still lingered in the air and thrust it forward like a spear. It wasn’t a sweeping attack that could be stopped with a glorified magic stick, so the Sandman was forced to defend with a cross-arm block.

He caught the end of it on the thick steel bracelets protecting his forearms, but they did little to defend against the tremendous impact or the divine energy infused into the strike.

[You have inflicted excessive blunt force trauma. Target HP -811.]

[Energy ripples through your target. Target HP -162.]

Bones became splinters and skin split asunder as both of his arms were crushed by that one attack. The armor, such as it was, had been cracked open like an egg while yet more blood gushed out of the mangled limbs.

Zone swung her staff around to deliver a follow-up blow, but a massive pair of metal clad fists interjected themselves between the two. She instantly recognized their owner as that red-skinned fiend from earlier and leapt backwards rather than try to take that absurd mountain of muscle head on.

“Hey!” yelled the demon. “Come back here and get crushed, skank! Ora ora ora ora ora!”

The barrage of fists raining down on the Monk threatened to overwhelm her while the demon’s master slinked off to lick his wounds. However, those strikes were thrown haphazardly, without any real intent or purpose.

Though this fiend appeared to be a Berserker like Hilda, their fighting styles were completely different. Whereas the dwarf’s every attack flowed seamlessly into the next in a calculated assault with the sole purpose of ending a life, this demon just swung wildly in the hope something would connect. It was a common flaw among those who had a lot of strength and no idea how to use it, and an experienced fighter like Zone had no difficulty fending off the assault. In fact, half of those wild punches missed all on their own. And, the more the two fought, the less and less the fiend had a chance of landing a clean hit.

As a follower of Axel, Zone’s faith gave her access to a special Skill called Disciple of War. It made it so that the longer she dueled the same opponent, the more her focus and perception sharpened. At its peak, the ability made her mind and eyes work twice as fast. This naturally improved her reflexes and tightened her guard, but the Monk had found another use for it. Muscle twitches, breathing, eye movements, weight shifting – she perceived all those minute tells and motions and used them to predict her opponent’s next move. This wasn’t some pseudo-precognitive Skill like a certain shiny golem’s Champion of Chaos. In fact, it wasn’t a Skill at all. This technique
was something born from decades of close-quarters combat that allowed her to read an opponent in real-time.

That said, the trick had its shortcomings. If the enemy was completely covered up like the Sandman, those micro-expressions couldn’t be taken advantage of. It also couldn’t function nearly as well without Disciple of War’s full effects, and that Skill had to start spooling up from scratch every time the Monk switched the focus of her assault. This wasn’t too much of an issue since Zone’s Level 10 Disciple of War only took twenty seconds to reach its peak after she switched targets to Kora. This gave the angel a lot more breathing room as she began expertly weaving through the wild barrage of fists. She saw a suitable gap within the blind rush and thrust her staff through, landing a pinpoint strike on the fiend’s solar plexus. Kora’s armor absorbed most of the impact, which rendered the blow far less effective than the Monk intended. It was still enough to push the demoness back and give Zone a moment to take in her surroundings.

It would appear Edge had been momentarily webbed up by the stalker demon, judging by the sticky strings clinging to her outfit. She had cut herself loose almost immediately afterwards, but that had given the other side enough time to rotate combatants and match them against more favorable targets. The fiend was blocking the Monk, the icy spider-girl was now playing cat and mouse with Hook, and the Sandman was bearing down on Edge. Compatibility against one’s opponent was the most crucial factor when it came to high-Level bouts like these. It was only natural that the enemy would want advantageous matchups, and these ones certainly seemed to put the Gilded Hand on the back foot. Hook was struggling to keep the stalker at bay in this confined space, the fiend’s armor greatly reduced Zone’s ability to put her down, and Edge was likely to get overpowered by the Sandman. The Disciple of War instantly deduced that the assassin would fall first at this rate, which would turn this battle into an unwinnable two-on-three.

That was Zone’s honest, unbiased evaluation as a battle junkie who had traded blows with both the Warlock and the Rogue. Though, strictly speaking, the half-elf was always going to be at a disadvantage in a direct confrontation. Her expertise lay in stealth, subterfuge, and dismantling security measures. The front lines was no place for an assassin, especially not against someone as flexible as the Sandman. His magic was powerful
enough to splatter her in one clean hit, his strength was comparable to Zone’s, he was keeping up with Edge in terms of speed, and his durability was out of this world judging by how his mangled arms were already healed. The only reason his new target was still alive was because she was putting her all into dodging, but she had no room left to launch a counter-offensive. She had to stick close to her opponent to interrupt any attempts at invoking magic, so putting distance between them was not an option. It was only a matter of time before the Rogue made a mistake and ended up a smear on the ground.

The Monk’s accelerated thoughts determined all this in the span of one and a half seconds. It took her even less time to decide that she ought to show the Sandman and his minions that they weren’t the only ones who could play ring-around-the-battlefield. She activated her Ultimate Skill and dove straight into Kora’s renewed storm of random punches. An ethereal copy of the Monk – her Spirit Guardian – leaped out of her body to block the left arms while the real one parried the right. She delivered a flying kick to the demon’s gut with one leg, then followed it up with a boot to the underside of her jaw with the other by using her weapon as a vaulting pole. The precise application of force rocked the much taller demon’s brain, causing her to pause her unrelenting assault and stumble backwards. This gave the Monk just the window she needed to unleash another bare-handed Martial Art.

“Flurry of Blows, Nerve Strike.”

Yet again her arms seemed to momentarily multiply as she ripped through the exposed skin under each of the fiend’s arms using her index and middle fingers. At least, that was the plan, but a layer of metal scales formed the instant before she struck as Kora activated Armored Carapace. The attack was much shallower than Zone wanted, but it still produced the intended effect of temporarily immobilizing all six of those arms. She grabbed hold of her staff once more and swept the demon’s legs with a descending spin on her heels. The mountain of muscle fell to the ground hard while insinuating Zone’s mother had intimate relations with a pig. The Monk unfurled her wings and lunged at the Sandman’s back once more. Edge noticed her approach and immediately moved to support her. She suddenly ducked low and stabbed a dagger through his foot to nail him to the ground, though the compromising position this left her in resulted in her getting
viciously kneed in the face. This gave Zone the opportunity to latch onto the hooded Warlock’s massive back, who was unable to avoid her due to the pinned foot. The angel used her adamantite staff to choke him from behind while grabbing onto the top of his head with a free hand.

“Full Appraisal.”

In a move no sane man or woman would consider wise, Zone attempted to read her opponent’s Status in the middle of a fight. Knowing one’s enemy was of utmost importance to defeating them, and this guy was especially perplexing. Knowing exactly what they were dealing with would help the Gilded Hand capture and interrogate the vigilante regarding Nao’s whereabouts. However, the information that flowed into her made that unflinching face of hers twist into one bearing the tiniest of delighted smiles. In the next instant, several massive steel spikes erupted out of the Sandman’s backside. They failed to pierce Zone’s Ki-Imbued Skin, but still succeeded in throwing her off. The monstrous mercenary willingly detached its pinned limb and swiveled around to glare at her, his cloak almost completely in tatters.

“You saw?!” it growled at her.

“I did,” she immediately replied.

This admission instantly put the brutish angel at the top of Boxxy’s shit list.

She had either seen Keira Morgana’s Status as broadcasted by Essence Concealment or her advanced quasi-divine nature had allowed her to look past it entirely. Either would have revealed the true nature of the Hero of Chaos, and that was information that could never be allowed to make it back to Boxxy’s archenemy. In other words, it was time to stop pretending.

The shapeshifter gave up on trying to maintain the illusion of a person and unleashed its monstrous side on the Monk. Its first strike was to extend an arm and swing it while transforming the fist into mass of steel spikes. The instantly improvised flail was then effortlessly deflected by Zone’s Spirit Guardian.

This was a mistake on Boxxy’s part, as in a fit of rage and desperation, it swung too wide. The Monk took advantage of the opening created by her second self and rushed at the monster with the help of her wings. She was aiming to take the shapeshifter’s head clean off with a full swing of her
staff. Boxxy interrupted by literally throwing a naked doppelganger-shaped Mirror Image at her with its other arm. The meat puppet splashed against her like a blanket of flesh, coiling itself around the Monk and making her fall to the ground, right at her opponent’s feet. The shapeshifter retrieved its favorite mithril dagger from Storage and swung it down at the angel with all its weight and strength, intending to drive it clean through her skull.

However, Zone was not alone.

“Ground Coffin!”

The stone pathway underneath Boxxy’s feet split open and slammed shut on either side of him like a gigantic bear trap as a result of Hook’s Spell. Edge had knocked the webstalker away after getting kneed in the head, giving the Psionic the opportunity to cover Zone while Kora’s partially paralyzed body was still recovering. This bought the Monk the time she needed to rip through the living straitjacket she was put into while Boxxy did the same with the Ground Coffin. Though it seemed both powerhouses were ready to throw down once again, the black-haired beauty chose not to continue. She unfurled her spectral wings once more and darted straight up with blinding speed. At the same time, a Gate opened up right at Edge and Hook’s position, no doubt an escape route prepared by their allies. Arms tried throwing stones and debris at the retreating angel while Claws moved in to rip the portal apart, but neither made it in time. Boxxy managed to nail the retreating Monk with the Ebonfire Spell before she got out of range, but the black flames enveloping didn’t even slow her down as she streaked through the night sky. Her colleagues had safely made it through the magic rift before the webstalker could collapse it.

“Shit!” Boxxy cursed as it stomped the ground. “Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!”

The Gilded Hand officers had escaped with the knowledge of the Hero of Chaos’s true identity. The shapeshifter couldn’t help but think back to that blasted smile on the Monk’s lips, which only made it even more furious. It really should’ve gone all out from the start instead of trying to maintain the Sandman’s already compromised Facade, but it was already too late to change the past. The present and future were still up for grabs, however, so the monster reminded itself this was no time to be throwing a tantrum.

Though this secluded corner of the estate was relatively quiet for the
moment, it wouldn’t be long before the FIB agents showed up to investigate. At least this fiasco didn’t last more than a few minutes, so its Mirror Image was still around. It telepathically ordered it through Spirit Echo to swap places with Arms, and the real one did the same immediately afterwards to vacate the area.

Once the multi-stage switcheroo was finished, Boxxy was left standing in an old disused section of the sewers beneath the mansion. Nao and Kuro were next to it, though both beastkin were unconscious and propped up against a filthy brick wall. At the least, its intervention hadn’t been a total waste. The monster also took solace in the fact that its familiars had already mapped out these labyrinthine tunnels in case they ever needed to be used as emergency escape routes. It would be a trifling matter to find its way back to its lair from here. Another upside was that Keira’s cover hadn’t been blown. Snack was currently maintaining it after she and Boxxy swapped places during the confusion with the smoke and emergency evacuation. The shapeshifter sent a mental reminder to the djinn to not fuck up her role, since it would be some time before they could trade places. As for Arms and Claws, there was no point in having them loiter around the mansion, so it forcibly dismissed them.

“Grrnh! Who the fuck are you, spooky?!”

It would seem whatever mental shock that hooded baldie had given the two wolfkin had worn off while Boxxy was taking stock of its situation. Kuro was rising to his feet, a growl in his throat and an enchanted blade in each hand. This timing was hardly ideal, as the shapeshifter hadn’t yet changed out of the ripped up rags that were once a weakly-enchanted cloak. It still had the guise of a heavy-set human underneath, but it was hardly the appearance it wanted to show either of them. It was not in the right frame of mind to deal with this game of lies, so the urge to take its frustrations out on them was almost overbearing.

Almost, but not quite.

“You’re safe, so stand down or be put down.”

It somehow ended up giving Kuro a warning dripping with murderous intent instead of ripping his arm off and jamming it down his throat.

“I’d like to see you try!”

Thankfully, those hostile words weren’t enough to provoke a violent response, just an empty counter-threat. The wolfkin kept his guard up as he quickly scanned his surroundings, but did not otherwise make a move. His sharp glare returned to the slightly calmer Sandman as he voiced his most pressing concern.

“What is this place?!”

“These are the sewers under the mansion you were just in,” the shapeshifter replied. “Your enemy will not find you here.”

Kuro seemed to relax a bit since neither he nor his brother were in immediate danger. It also helped that the hostility emanating from this stranger was diminishing rapidly. In reality, that was merely Boxxy dosing the musty air with a calming scent through Pheromone Control.

“Okay, that’s a start,” the wolfkin readjusted his stance. “Still haven’t told me who you are, though.”

“I’m nobody important. Just a passing Warlock who hates humans.”

“Really now? You look pretty human yourself, if a little on the large side.

Are you a half-giant or something?”

Boxxy heard that remark a lot, probably because it was an obvious assumption. Though children born from interracial relationships would always be the same species as the mother, they would retain certain traits of the father. A coupling between a human female and a giant male could easily result in someone with the Sandman’s considerable height. Whether the woman in that hypothetical scenario was physically capable of mating with a partner roughly twice her own size was another question. It was also completely irrelevant to the matter at hand.

“None of your business.”

The Warlock threw in a menacing glare to go along with his cold words.

Thankfully, the shapeshifter’s considerable Charisma (CHR) Attribute made it so this was enough to intimidate even someone as pigheaded as Kuro. It didn’t send him running for the hills, but it adequately conveyed the message that the man in front of the beastkin was not to be trifled with.

“Right, never mind. So, what happens now?”

“Now, you two will head that way for about three hundred meters and take a right at the rusty plaque on the wall. That will lead you to a rusty ladder that provides access to the surface. Once topside, I suggest you get in touch with the authorities as soon as possible. As for me, I have other business to attend to, so I’ll be going.”

The Sandman turned around to slink off into the darkness, but this situation didn’t sit right with Kuro.

“Wait, why did you help us?!” he shouted after him. “I doubt it was out of the kindness of your own heart.”

“… Because Heroes are a precious resource in more ways than you realize.

You really should protect yours better.”

“Ah, fuck. What is it with you mystic types and your cryptic bullshit?”

Nobody was around to hear his complaint, as the towering stranger had already disappeared down the dark, dank tunnel.

Part Five

A lone female figure sat on a stump-turned-footstool in a snow-covered field. Behind her was a run-down old barn, its red paint long ago peeled off to reveal the rotting wood underneath. Resting against the wall was a black metal staff with gilded tips, easily within arm’s reach of its owner. The woman wore a set of yellow and brown monk’s garments that left half her upper torso exposed. Her sizeable bosom was wrapped up tight in gray bandages, much like her forearms and fists. A dark purple waistcloth was bound around her midsection, its color matching the necklace of blessed prayer beads dangling from her neck. Her feet were adorned with a pair of knee-high sandals worn over white socks topped with steel kneecaps.

On the whole, that get-up seemed irresponsibly light. It offered little to no protection and did nothing to stave off the biting chill of the winter air.

Neither did the sun’s first rays of the new year. Though they shone upon the black-haired woman, the heat they carried was snuffed out so easily that they might as well have come from a glorified lamp. Yet, despite all that, Zone didn’t show a hint of being cold. If anything, she seemed to be overheating judging from the thin wisps of steam rising from her coiled muscles. This reflected the woman’s state of combat readiness. She was prepared to instantly spring into action should anyone be foolish enough to intrude, unlikely as it was to happen. The old barn behind her and the rickety farmhouse on the other side had long since been abandoned by their former owner. Some bandits saw it fit to claim the property as a hideout until they were ‘forcefully evicted’ by the Gilded Hand’s strike team four days ago. Excluding the rogue spies, there were likely very few people left alive that knew this place existed and fewer still that would make the trip in this frigid weather. Speaking of, Zone’s colleagues were still sleeping off last night’s botched kidnapping attempt, leaving her to serve as lookout.

The aforementioned circumstances rendered it a largely meaningless post, but she had long ago overcome the need for sleep. Or food. Or drink, for that matter.

The Monk possessed a set of Skills that allowed her physical form to transcend most mortal needs. Diamond Soul shielded her from harsh environments like this otherwise unforgiving northern winter on top of
raising her resistance against hostile magic. Wholesome Being rendered her immune to poisons and disease while allowing her body to sustain itself by passively drawing in energy from the world around her. She still ate heartily whenever the opportunity presented itself, as Perfect Physique ensured those nutrients were distributed in a way that maximized her muscles’ base strength, speed, and endurance. Why the Skill also maintained her enviable cup size was a mystery that Zone had long since given up on, though the true culprit was actually Timeless Body. As its name suggested, this ability shielded her from the ravages of old age and kept her in her prime – both as a woman and a fighter – regardless of how many decades passed. The Skill extended her lifespan, but it would still run out unless she achieved one more Rank Up.

However, living longer was not at all why Zone had chosen those Skills.

Her goal was to turn her body and mind into a weapon, and if her track record was any indication, she had succeeded. She was without a doubt the best fighter in the Gilded Hand, and a solid contender for the Empire’s strongest human. However, all that power was meaningless if she couldn’t fulfil her mission, which was what happened last night. Despite her failure, Zone was entirely unperturbed by the outcome as she judged it wasn’t her fault. If anyone was to blame it was her teammates for their inability to keep up. She stated as much as she delivered her report through the glowing blue crystal in her grasp, but it was far from the most important information she had uncovered.

“That’s everything you got out of it?” Edward asked through the Comm-crystal.

“Affirmative,” Zone curtly replied.

“It’s not a lot.”

“Full Appraisal was interrupted.”

“Hm. Unfortunate.”

The Monk had just finished relaying what she had discovered regarding the Sandman’s true Status. Her angelic disposition had allowed her to pierce the veil of Essence Concealment just as the shapeshifter feared. She couldn’t identify most of the Skills and Perks before she was thrown off, but still got a read on the Warlock’s basic information. Jobs, Attributes, species and,
most important of all, the name had all become known to her and, by extension, her boss.

“What about Edge? You said she took a bad hit?”

“Affirmative. Knee to face. Fractured skull. Short-term memory loss.

Possible brain damage.”

The Monk was genuinely impressed that her weak-bodied colleague managed to keep fighting despite the severity of her injuries, though she slipped into a coma shortly after exfiltrating.

“Damn. Will she be fit for duty?”

“Hook predicts full recovery within twenty-four hours.”

“That’s something, I suppose. Still, to think that damned box got this powerful so quickly,” grumbled Edward. “What are those idiots over at the Republic feeding it? And why are you so damn happy about this?!”

“You could tell?”

“Anyone can with that goofy smile of yours.”

Though the former Spymaster said it like it was blatantly obvious, only those who had worked with this weird woman for years would call the slightly curled corners of her lips a ‘goofy smile.’ The fact that he could discern that tiny expression through the distorted image relayed by the Comm-crystal was rather impressive.

“I’m looking forward to having a serious fight with it,” she admitted.

“Ugh, this muscle-brained woman is going to be the death of me.”

Her boss couldn’t help but groan at her simple-mindedness. Zone was the type of person who walked the seemingly endless path of self-improvement as she strived to become ‘the strongest,’ whatever that was. Edward was pretty sure that ambiguous goal was just an excuse she used to constantly pick fights with powerful individuals for her own satisfaction. Motives aside, she was a diligent person who did not neglect to train her mind, body, and spirit. That was why she had become a follower of Axel in the first place. She hoped the God of War’s guidance would help her achieve her vague goal. Unfortunately, the deity in question had never once responded
to her various prayers and offerings, so she had to rely on other mortals as she walked her path.

This was the main reason behind her current partnership with Edward.

Working for him had afforded her a steady stream of strong opponents, monsters and enlightened alike. Overcoming those challenges allowed the Monk to continue honing her skills and battle instincts to her heart’s content. Edward didn’t just enable this behavior – he encouraged it. He was one of the few people that understood what Zone was really like deep down. Though her body and mind were of an enlightened, her instincts and behavior were like a monster’s. The Spymaster had no idea where this boundless aggression and thirst for violence stemmed from, but he knew how to use it to his advantage.

Unfortunately, the woman’s simplistic personality and idiotic motivations had proven to be double-edged swords. While those traits made her easy to manipulate at first, they made her more difficult to handle as time went on.

The stronger Zone got, the fewer opportunities she had to test her mettle, and the more narrow-minded she became when one actually popped up.

Though she never willfully ignored or went against orders, she tended to skirt her duties and lose track of her actual objective. That was why Edward usually gave her assignments that required ample application of brute force and little else. It wasn’t like she was useless at subterfuge, but her tendency to tunnel vision on whatever opponent caught her fancy made her a liability when it came to delicate operations.

“Requesting permission to find and crush Boxxy T. Morningwood.”

This was one of those times.

“Denied,” he instantly rejected her. “We have more important things to worry about than a perverted box.”

“Requesting clarification.”

The hint of insistence in her voice betrayed she was deeply dissatisfied with Edward’s judgement, but he had a feeling she’d change her tune soon.

“For one, how did the FIB know we were coming? Question’s been working that angle all night, and the only plausible explanation he could
come up with was that someone tipped off the twigs. I tend to agree, though the only way that could be is if they had a mole within our organization.”

This news riled up Zone, just as the Spymaster knew it would. Though the Monk had a somewhat skewed understanding of loyalty and honor, those virtues were still among her faith’s core tenants. Anyone who even hinted at betrayal in her presence was in for the physical makeover of a lifetime.

“Requesting orders,” she asked coldly.

“Enact blackout protocol and regroup at site C-6 with the survivors. Except for Hook, he’s to meet up with me and Question at B-3 so we can start sorting out this security leak. He can bring Edge if she still needs treatment.

That is all.”

“Understood. Zone, out.”

The Monk crushed the Comm-crystal within her grasp in accordance with the aforementioned protocol.

*Slap*

*Slap*

*Slap*

However, rather than immediately relaying those instructions to the relevant personnel, she remained seated on that old rotten log. She smashed her fist into her palm over and over, the clap of each strike growing louder and louder as she started tapping her foot. A smile spread on her face. However, this wasn’t the barely noticeable smirk she sometimes let slip through her mask of neutrality, but a full blown grin reminiscent of a child far too excited to sit still.

*Slap*

*Slap*

*Slap*

When was the last time she felt like this? How long had it been since she could truly cut loose against a living thing? And to think, the one who made her jaded heart beat so fervently had been nothing more than an adorably harmless chest just nine months ago. That critter that had grown rapidly and
splendidly to become a vicious, bloodthirsty monster that even a deity had recognized as truly exceptional. Yes, she knew Boxxy T. Morningwood was a Hero. She suspected as much for a long time, but it wasn’t until last night’s Appraisal that she was able to confirm it. The result was indeed as fragmented as she reported to Edward, but she had purposefully left out the fact that she caught a glimpse of its divine title for a very simple reason.

*Slap*

*Slap*

*Slap*

She wanted a real fight. Not some recital where they sized each other up under the light of the aurora. Not dancing around an old teammate who was trying to deconstruct her. Not pushing a tired old elf off a tall perch.

Certainly not some weakling that would get pulverized with a single love tap. There was no challenge in any of that, no thrill. She wanted, nay desired, a good, old fashioned brawl where both fighters aimed to end the other. A duel to the death with no superfluous distractions like storied pasts, moral implications, or mission objectives getting in the way. Just a show of pure, unfiltered violence.

*Slap*

*Slap*

*Slap*

She would never get the chance to experience that ultimate thrill with Boxxy if Edward caught wind of its identity as a Hero. If that were to happen, he’d surely send a hit squad after it, one that would stalk the creature and then attack at an opportune time that reduced its odds of survival to nil. Although Zone would likely be a part of that task force, she would not enjoy herself in the slightest. That was why she said nothing of her suspicions as she waited for the monster to grow. That was why she continued to keep its secret, as the little fish involved in that ‘catch and release’ was now a magnificent beast worthy of her undivided attention.

*Slap*

*Slap*

*Slap*

However, last night wasn’t the time nor the place. There were too many distractions, too many flies buzzing around. Plus, both were far too concerned with maintaining an illusion of humanity. When next they met, there would be no such masks or pretenses from either side. Boxxy would come at her with all it had, and she would respond in kind until one of them was left beaten and bloodied. This clash would most assuredly come, for she knew its deepest, darkest secret, and it hated her for it. The sheer animosity she felt from the shapeshifter when it realized it had been outed spoke louder than any words – it would hunt her down, whatever it took.

All she had to do was sit right there on that stump and wait for it to find her.

*Slap*

*Slap*

*Slap*

Yet, she couldn’t just abandon or betray Edward. She owed the man too much. Her own personal code, her version of ‘honor’ demanded that she leave no debts unsettled. This… omission of the truth, though? That wasn’t betrayal. She had every intention of winning, after all, so she saw no problem with giving Boxxy time to prepare and face her at its strongest.

There wouldn’t be much point otherwise. And that day would come soon, she could feel it. She just had to be patient and endure the itching in her fists for a while longer.

Just.

*Slap*

A while.

*Slap*

Longer.

*Slap*

[General Information]

Jennifer Jackson

Angel (Human), Female, 76 years old

Executive Officer of The Gilded Hand

Level 100.00 Monk (MAX)

Level 66.27 Administrative Scribe

Level 48.83 Warrior

5268/5268 HP (+16.6/sec)

759/759 Ki (+15.0/sec)

[Attributes]

STR 1163, DEX 468, AGI 390, END 821, INT 365, WIS 380, FTH 253, PER 96, MNT 104

[Monk Skills]

Disciple of War – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Ki Manipulation – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Flow Perception – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Empowered Strikes – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Parry Expertise – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Ki-Imbued Skin – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Projectile Deflection – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Path of the Tiger – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Wholesome Being – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Strength of Stone – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Purity of Thought – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Healing Hand – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Diamond Soul – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Flurry of Blows – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Timeless Body – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Unleash Potential – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Perfect Physique – Lvl 10.00 (MAX) Spirit Guardian – Lvl 1.00 (MAX)

[Administrative Scribe Skills]

Item Identification – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Language Comprehension – Lvl 5.19

Basic Appraisal – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Advanced Penmanship – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Contract Magic – Lvl 3.67

Eidetic Memory – Lvl 6.25

Advanced Appraisal – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Fraud Detection – Lvl 7.52

Domination Resistance – Lvl 4.59

Job Manipulation – Lvl 5.25

Administrative Oversight – Lvl 2.84

[Warrior Skills]

Toughness – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Evasion – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Penetrating Strikes – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Blunt Weapon Affinity – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Blocking Expertise – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Dense Muscles – Lvl 8.45

Deep Reserves – Lvl 9.15

Armor Break – Lvl 7.51

[Other Skills]

Divine Flight – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Brawling Mastery – Lvl 25.00 (MAX)

Staff Mastery – Lvl 25.00 (MAX)

Spear Mastery – Lvl 6.26

Sword Mastery – Lvl 11.83

Projectile Mastery – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Shield Mastery – Lvl 8.30

Meditation – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Stealth – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Chapter Four

Heavenly Gifts

Part One

It was late morning on the first day of the new year, and Azurvale’s residents had only just begun to sift through the aftermath of last night’s attack. News of ‘Imperial renegades attacking the city’ had already spread like wildfire, shocking the populace and spreading unrest. The government had not made any official statements, but it was impossible to keep that many mouths shut. Rumors that a clandestine organization were targeting a Hero were already making the rounds. Naturally, much like during the assault, everyone assumed that meant Keira, which sparked outrage due to her popularity. The overwhelming sentiment was that the Empire was somehow at fault even though its leadership had publicly denounced The Gilded Hand.

However, all this gossip and finger-pointing was merely a way for the bereaved population to cope with the death and destruction caused on Aurora Eve. The battle between the elite adventurers and the trio of royal griffins had caused massive collateral damage. Over a dozen buildings were completely razed, nearly two hundred civilian bystanders were injured, and thirty six were killed. The fatalities almost doubled when one included the dead servants and guards in the Bryric family’s employ. The tragedy was punctuated by the fact that only one of the mighty beasts had been brought down. The other two managed to escape, as did the ringleaders behind the attack. Under these circumstances, the government had difficulty claiming this was a victory despite the fact that a total of forty six elite insurgents were slain or captured.

Immediate public opinion regarding the Foreign Intelligence Bureau’s handling of the situation was somewhat split. Nobody could deny their timely intervention had protected people of great importance to the nation, which was probably a good thing for elven society as a whole. At the same time, however, the FIB had been unable to prevent the significant amount of collateral damage. There would’ve likely been far worse consequences if they didn’t intervene, of course, but logic did little to ease grief-stricken hearts. Accusations that they purposefully left the commoners to fend for themselves while they coddled the privileged few were sure to be thrown around. Some even assumed a conspiracy of some sort was at play, as it was
impossible to deny that the FIB seemed almost too well-prepared for a

‘surprise’ attack.

The aforementioned elite had spent the night at the Central Consortium building, as did Keira and Rowana. The place was built like a fortress and home to several high-profile guilds, making it the most secure location the affluent victims could take refuge in on such short notice. They would remain there a while longer as the FIB monitored the situation and ensured that the immediate crisis was over. The authorities’ heightened state of alertness made it difficult for Boxxy and Xera to swap places, but it was at times like these when the ‘bathroom break’ proved invaluable. Kuro and Nao showed up half an hour after the dust from the attack had settled and were immediately taken for questioning and subsequently placed under the Bureau’s protective custody. Outwardly, the redhead expressed relief that her fellow Hero made it through mostly unscathed.

Inwardly, however, Boxxy felt more exposed than ever. Its public persona was compromised and could come under attack at any moment. In retrospect, it really should’ve avoided getting involved and allowed those guys to take Nao, but it had underestimated the level of commitment from Edward’s lackeys. The Gilded Hand putting forward that much manpower, planning, and resources just to capture a Hero didn’t seem right. What could they possibly hope to gain from that wimpy bookworm? The shapeshifter concluded that Lunar’s chosen was hiding something the Gilded Hand was after, and, if Edward wanted it, then Boxxy wanted it. The monster just had to figure out what ‘it’ was.

That was the real reason why Keira went to check in on her fellow Hero under the pretense of being worried for his wellbeing. Nao Shoki was kept under strict surveillance and wasn’t technically allowed visitors, but the FIB
agents were hard pressed to find a reason to refuse the redhead. She was the Keira Morgana, after all. Not only did her track record put her far above any suspicion of colluding with the enemy, but there were many witnesses that noted her willingness to jump to Nao’s defense following the evacuation.

So, after a Consortium Scribe confirmed her identity with a Basic Appraisal, the authorities led Keira to the apparent cause of this mess.

The Hero of Magic and his sworn brother were kept in Lady Imiryl’s office within the Broken Mirror guild’s part of the building. The private space
already had a number of anti-intrusion enchantments on top of being in a secure location, and the high elf Wizard had no qualms about it serving as shelter for her former student. Nao was standing behind the large desk in the back. He was idly reading a book titled ‘Fifty Eight Creative Uses for Lightning Magic,’ presumably taken from Imiryl’s bookshelf. Hearing the door close prompted the Hero of Magic to look up from his curious choice of literature.

“Oh. Good morning,” he greeted the girl.

“Hey, Nao,” she replied with a smile and a wave. “Who’s your friend?”

She turned to the unknown face sitting on the couch by the entrance. Kuro was currently absent, as was the room’s owner, but Nao wasn’t alone. The only other person in the room was a slightly older elf in a dark green uniform that bore the FIB’s insignia on the shoulder and chest. He had short ginger hair, a clean-shaven chin, a pair of rectangular frameless glasses, and a small diagonal scar just above his right eyebrow. His appearance reminded Boxxy of Silus Underwood, the Sandman’s handler and main point of contact during the war right up until he died when he got caught up in the Overlords’ duel. The shapeshifter considered that a rather unfortunate turn of events, as the intelligence officer’s misunderstandings were a big reason why the Sandman persona had been so successful. It had serious doubts whether this guy would prove anywhere near as useful, but it chose to withhold judgement for the moment.

“Good morning, Decanus,” the stranger stood and saluted her. “I’m Agent Gibbs, and I have been assigned as Master Shoki’s bodyguard for the time being.”

“Uhm, I’m not really part of the military anymore, so just Keira is fine.”

“I will take that under advisement, Decanus.”

Okay, this guy was definitely going to be a handful.

“Wait, bodyguard? What about Kuro?” the redhead glanced around. “The jerk didn’t get himself killed, I hope.”

“No, no, he’s fine,” butted in Nao. “He pushed himself too hard last night and is still sleeping it off.”

“As I said, my position is entirely temporary,” reiterated Gibbs. “I will likely be relieved of duty once Master Shoki’s regular aide has recovered. I may not be a sand spider, but I assure you I’m every bit as capable.”

“That’s how it is,” stated the Hero of Magic. “I’m not a fan of this arrangement, but these FIB people were quite insistent.”

“Yeah… What’s a sand spider?”

“It’s Kuro’s Blade Dancing style, he can tell you more about it when he gets back. That aside, what brings you here, Keira?”

“Well, I had some things I wanted to talk about, but…”

The catgirl looked towards the stranger in the room as if pleading for some alone time, but the officer was having none of it.

“My orders are to keep an eye on our guest at all times,” he said sternly.

“My presence is not up for debate.”

“Fine, fine, I guess I’ll just get on with it,” she rolled her eyes, then turned to Nao with concern. “Are you holding up alright?”

“… Better than I expected, to be honest,” he said weakly. “We’ve been attacked before, but it’s never been this bad. We might not have made it out without your help.”

“What? But, I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. That warning you gave Kuro before it went down allowed both of us to prepare a few vital contingencies. I still can’t believe you spotted something was amiss so quickly. I heard you were a talented scout, but that was amazing.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” she waved dismissively.

“Pardon my intrusion, Decanus,” Gibbs butted in, “but I disagree. I doubt even our most seasoned agents would have managed the same under those circumstances. The Gilded Hand are not idiots. Their assassins chose to strike during the aurora because of its hypnotizing and pacifying influence, yet you still detected their presence. If you don’t mind my asking, what tipped you off to remain alert?”

“Not sure. I just had a feeling, I guess,” the redhead shrugged.

“Something like adventurer’s intuition?” Gibbs pressed.

Boxxy’s hunch about the officer was right. He was going to be trouble if he kept asking such questions. The shapeshifter couldn’t tell whether he was simply curious about it on a personal level or suspected Keira was somehow involved. Either way, ‘my familiar told me while I was spaced out’ clearly wasn’t a smart answer. Thankfully, the shapeshifter was so good at staying in character that it instantly came up with a completely plausible excuse.

“Not exactly. It’s more like I always expect the worst. When you have a boss as shitty as mine, you can’t help but feel things could go tits up at any time. Like last night, in that dark atrium, I couldn’t help but notice how easy it would be for someone to pick some pockets while everyone was staring at the pretty lights. I got a bit paranoid, glanced around, and happened to notice one of the guards got pulled into the shadows. I had no idea what was going on, but… you know the rest, I suppose.”

“I see,” Gibbs nodded with a thoughtful smile. “I think I understand why you’re so well-respected amongst your peers, Decanus.”

“Wait, hold up,” Nao realized something. “Why were you thinking about picking pockets?”

She barely had anything on her other than his borrowed winter coat and that

‘dress’ underneath, neither of which had pockets. That thought also reminded the wolfkin of the resounding smack Rowana had given the redhead’s behind, though he wisely kept that to himself. He was also thankful that she’d changed out of that ridiculous outfit and back into the casual clothes she usually wore.

“… Old habits die hard, alright?” Keira pouted.

“Wow. Really?!”

“I wasn’t going to actually steal anything!”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly apologized. “I just find it a bit unbelievable that a squad of elite Empire assassins were thwarted by a street urchin’s impulses.”

“I guess. I’m just glad my bad habits helped keep you two out of danger,”

the girl suddenly looked down. “Especially since this whole mess was my fault.”

That statement shocked Gibbs and thoroughly confused Nao.

“What?” the latter spoke first. “How can you possibly feel responsible for the actions of a bunch of renegades?”

“I did the Clash thing. If I kept my cool back then, they wouldn’t even know you were in town, and you’d probably be somewhere safer than that stupid party.”

“Excuse me, Decanus, but you are mistaken,” the officer spoke up again.

“This was a large scale operation carried out deep behind enemy lines. Not even the Gilded Hand could have organized it so quickly. Most likely they had been aware of Master Shoki’s movements since before he entered the country.”

This news caused the Hero of Magic a good deal of worry that immediately became evident on his face, though he did not interrupt the elf.

“If anything, we should be thanking you for the Clash. We knew of Master Shoki’s visit and the conspiracy to kidnap him, but revealing his presence to the general public ultimately helped us repel and entrap the invaders.”

“But… but… what about all the innocent people that died in the attack?”

Keira pointed out.

“These people are ruthless, Decanus. The war never ended for them. There were going to be casualties no matter what. Having them strike at the Bryric mansion actually made it easier to contain the damage, plus your keen awareness helped prevent whatever plot they had.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Now can you stop?” the redhead suddenly grew shy.

“I’m not used to being thanked when things turn sour.”

“It saddens me to hear that, Decanus. For what it’s worth, I personally believe your ability to make the most out of a terrible and unexpected situation is worthy of admiration.”

Well, this was interesting. It would appear that Boxxy had misjudged this Gibbs fellow. His slightly excited tone, loose tongue, and overall respectful
attitude painted him as someone who revered Keira. It wasn’t some superfluous fascination with a famous Hero that happened to be a cute girl, but professional respect for a fellow fighter and former soldier. This was good, because it meant he would be more likely to divulge potentially sensitive information. He just might turn out more valuable than Nao if Boxxy played its cards right.

“Yeah, well, part of that is being able to tell what caused the terrible situation in the first place,” continued the catgirl. “That’s kind of why I’m here, actually. I can’t for the life of me figure out what prompted this. Like, why capture this guy?”

She waved a hand dismissively at Nao as she continued talking to Gibbs.

“I get that he’s a Hero and that alone makes him important, but why would a bunch of spies, thieves, and assassins care? He’s too much of a spineless wimp to become involved in politics or intrigue, and I can’t imagine anyone who knows him would entrust him with sensitive information like state secrets. I mean, just look at him! He’s dense, irresponsible, cowardly, has a habit of breaking people’s things, and is overall a pain-in-the-butt-know-it-all. Er, no offense.”

“That sounded pretty damn offensive…” the wolfkin weakly protested.

“I’m trying to say you have zero value as a prisoner of war. I helped put an end to their false war and maybe sort of led to them being exposed, but they passed me over for you. You! What makes you so damn special?!”

Gibbs gave her a puzzled look that seemed to ask why Keira was talking as if she was somehow jealous, but resisted the urge to vocalize his inquiry.

“M-maybe they just wanted to hold me ransom?” offered Nao weakly.

“As if! With how many resources they threw at the capital they’d have been better off trying to rob a bank! I just know those guys had some sort of ulterior motive, and it’s been driving me nuts all night!”

She suddenly stepped forward, grabbed Nao by the collar of his robes and lifted him up like a stereotypical bully. She glared at him face-to-face so hard the meek scholar instinctively looked away.

“How do I know they won’t come back in a week and pull something like this again?! How many lives are your damned secrets worth?!”

Gibbs was about to step in when he heard those words. Even though it was his duty to break them up, he couldn’t bring himself to do so when faced with the redhead’s brilliant and noble conviction. As for Nao, he was definitely feeling the pressure. His panicked face and darting eyes made it clear he was indeed hiding something big. Boxxy was unsurprised to find its suspicions confirmed, but felt irritated that he didn’t find Keira trustworthy enough to share his secret. He was definitely close to spilling the beans, otherwise he would not waver so much. The shapeshifter remembered that the wolfkin wasn’t good at dealing with violent women, so it decided to sheathe the stick and bring out the carrot.

“I’m your friend, Nao,” Keira put him down and firmly grasped his shoulders. “If you’re in some sort of trouble then I want to help however I can, but you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know… It’s… a big one.”

“People I care about are in danger. You are in danger. I don’t give a shit if it’s a bloody mountain, just lay it on me.”

The wolfkin glanced towards the officer behind the catgirl, his eyes silently asking if he should clue her in. Gibbs did not possess the rank or authority to give that kind of permission, and even if he did, this was clearly a personal matter. Despite that, his instincts told him he should give the go-ahead. It was the right thing to do from both a moral and strategic standpoint. The Hero of Chaos possessed a unique perspective that shone light on new possibilities. This trend could be traced back to her earliest exploits and remained prevalent until as recently as last night. So, consequences be damned, Gibbs decided to support the talented redhead.

“I don’t know if this means much to a foreigner,” he spoke quietly, “but the FIB believes Decanus Morgana a trustworthy individual and an ally to the Republic’s people. At the very least, she holds no love for Imperial soldiers and spies.”

Most in the Bureau knew of the time she described the invading Imperial army as ‘thirty thousand bags of high grade fertilizer,’ though he wisely decided not to bring that up.

“That’s… surprising,” Keira quizzically looked over her shoulder. “I had no idea you spy types had such a high opinion of me.”

“Well, my superiors would never openly admit it, but we would definitely love to have more people like you working for us. You’d probably already have been offered a spot at our academy if you had been born here. And, uh, weren’t a public figure.”

“Err… thanks, I guess?”

Though she said so with a cringe, the shapeshifter on the inside had to try extra hard to hide a devious smile. Such a ringing endorsement was just the sort of thing that doppelgangers thrived on. It was also the last bit of persuasion Nao needed to make up his mind.

“Alright. I didn’t want you to get involved, but I suppose we’re already past that point.”

He took a few steps back and pulled something out of his Item Box. It was a dense yet untitled tome bound together with pale white leather. He set it down on Imiryl’s desk and pressed his hand against the blank cover. Black, scrawling text began spreading out from his palm and fingers, crawling over the book’s surface like snakes made of ink. It appeared to be a form of divine script, though it moved around too fast for Boxxy to make any sense of it. The arcane letters kept spreading, splintering, and multiplying until the entire book was covered in layer upon layer of illegible writing. By the time it stopped, the only thing visible of the original cover were random spots of glowing white amidst a sea of fuzzy blackness, like stars sparkling amidst the night sky. The tome then started vibrating so hard that it made the whole desk quiver.

“Uh, Nao? Should we be taking cover or something?” the catgirl got a bad feeling.

“No, it’s fine. Just give it a moment.”

A trio of circles representing the moons appeared on the cover of the clearly magical book, at which point it jumped into the air. It flew up to around Nao’s eye level and hovered in place. Its pages – yellowed from age yet glossy as if new – fluttered open on their own. A projection of solid green light appeared above it, taking on the shape of a blurry face made out of an
uncountable collection of glowing letters. There were no discernable features, just a general shape that constantly fluctuated and warped. Then, as one might expect, it spoke.

“The Librarium Infinitus Arcana Refactorium stands ready to hear thy query, o’ blessed child of the moons.”

Its manner of speech was quite odd, alien almost. The voice, tone, and even dialect changed so rapidly that it sounded like every other word was spoken by a different person.

“Keira, meet LIAR,” Nao introduced it. “As you can see, it is a grimoire –
an enchanted book with something of a mind of its own. Not literally, but close enough.”

“That’s kinda cool. Did you make it yourself?”

“I wish, but sadly, there were no mortal hands were involved in its creation.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The Hero of Magic took a deep breath as he was about to reveal one of the world’s juiciest secrets.

“It was made by Lunar herself to serve her chosen Hero as their Divine item.”

Part Two

“… Seriously? Like, an actual Divine item?!”

“Indeed,” Nao nodded. “I’d stake my life on it.”

“Teresa’s titanic tits! You been holding out on me, huh?!”

Keira was understandably shocked and thrilled by the revelation that her new friend owned a legendary Divine-class item. She was so excited that Boxxy had trouble keeping its impulses in check as its eagerness to take the object by force was almost overwhelming. It managed to control that urge, even if barely. It still reached out and poked at the floating letter-face. The catgirl’s finger passed straight through as if it wasn’t there, yet the visage did not react at all. Normally, an illusion like this would be disrupted or distorted if it came into contact with something solid, yet this one maintained its form even as the beastkin put her entire hand through it. It also had the side-effect of making her skin prickle with numbness ever-so-slightly.

“Yes, well,” Nao nervously scratched his cheek, “I do apologize for the secrecy, but I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, I certainly do.”

No wonder Edward wanted to get his Gilded Hand on this runt so badly.

When Boxxy first heard of Divine-class items, it was told they were worth fighting wars over. The shapeshifter had serious doubts whether that was actually the case, and Nao also claimed that rumor was blown out of proportion. However, the former Spymaster was clearly of the opposite opinion. Other influential individuals likely felt the same, so the wolf-man’s insistence on keeping a low profile and his reluctance to spill the beans were completely justified. One might argue that if the talking book was so important it should be locked up tight in a vault, but Boxxy knew better than anyone there was no such thing as a perfectly secure facility.

Especially not in a world where one creature could mow down entire armies. Obfuscation and disinformation seemed like the best ways to keep that holy treasure out of the wrong hands. This realization made Boxxy
consider that it would be wise to follow Nao’s example and keep Keira’s mouth shut regarding Daniel’s pink gem.

Then again, Edward would come after the fake redhead regardless, but the shapeshifter needed to deal with its problems one at a time, starting with the one in front of its face.

“But… can something so precious really be taken?” the catgirl bluntly asked.

“Of course not. I am not just its keeper, but also the only one who can access it. I’d never use it for evil, but I… could be forced to. Those people had a Psionic with them, so I have little doubt they intended to enthrall me in order to gain access to LIAR.”

Boxxy immediately made a mental note of that method, though it withheld making any plans until it figured out exactly what this goddess-given relic was capable of.

“Why do you keep calling it a liar?”

“Because its full name is a pain in the ass to say, so I just use the acronym. I suspect I’m not the first Hero to do so since it recognizes it. Just wish it wasn’t so misleading since LIAR only speaks factual truths.”

“Oh? What kind of ‘factual truths?’”

“All of them.”

“Uh…”

“Go on. Think about it.”

Nao was clearly enjoying being cryptic. Either that or he was testing Keira’s powers of deduction. Probably a bit of both. Whatever his intentions, Boxxy had no interest in playing his games right now.

“Nope, no idea what you mean,” Keira shook her head. “Unless you’re implying this thing is all-knowing, but that’s just silly.”

The wolfkin put his hands behind his back and smiled smugly.

“… Get out,” the girl’s eyes widened. “No fucking way. Not even the gods know everything.”

“Yet, the LIAR actually does. From the simplest of quandaries to the most elusive of secrets – no topic is beyond its scope.”

The girl was speechless, as was the monster inside. Surely Nao was just hallucinating or something. Such a ridiculous object could not possibly exist, could it?

“However,” he continued, “accessing the knowledge contained within is not free. Each piece of information has a price, and the LIAR will not divulge anything until it is paid in full. At least it doesn’t remind repeating itself after you’ve made a deposit, unless something changed since.”

“Huh. Sounds kind of like a library.”

“Quite. The world’s most extensive and expensive library, to be precise. It doesn’t do refunds, by the way.”

“And you say it knows… everything?”

“Literally everything,” he confirmed. “Even age-old questions that have existed since the dawn of time. For example – LIAR, what is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything?”

“Query received,” stated the book. “Compiling… Referencing…

Extrapolating… Done. Thy fee amounts to: 67,915,234,162 souls.”

“Holy fuck!” Keira shouted. “What in the-?!”

“Error: thine balance is insufficient,” the illusory face momentarily flashed red. “Query cancelled.”

“Are there even that many living things in the entire world?!” the catgirl added.

“It wouldn’t be worth it even if there were,” Nao sighed. “The only soul I own is mine, and I plan to keep it that way. Even if there was someone capable of… ‘spending’ another’s existence, I fail to see how such a despicable person would ever be chosen as a Hero of Magic.”

Nao had a very good point. Boxxy and its patron excluded, the deities of this world were inherently good and righteous beings, as were those they appointed as Heroes. Sacrificing billions was an atrocity that none of the aforementioned parties involved would ever endorse. Even if a mortal were
to grow depraved or insane enough to want that, they’d have their divine title revoked long before they got a chance to make it happen. In other words, that outrageous price tag was simply the LIAR’s roundabout way of saying ‘go fuck yourself.’

“Right, that’s probably for the best,” Keira calmed down. “Still, if the prices are that ridiculous, isn’t this thing practically useless?”

“The cost varies greatly depending on the… scarcity of the information requested,” Nao explained. “If I were to ask for something like the current time or where I put my keys, I’d only be asked to pay a few gold pieces.

Realistically, whenever I use it, my queries are something a little more like this. LIAR, what’s the true identity of the mercenary known as the Sandman?”

“Query received. Compiling… Done. Thy fee amounts to: twenty years’

worth of life experience. Doth thou agree to these terms?”

“Oh, wow!” he expressed surprise. “That’s a much more valuable secret than I gave it credit for.”

Boxxy would certainly hope that was the case considering it had fooled an entire nation and then some. It just wished the wolfkin had not unwittingly used the shapeshifter as an example to demonstrate his fancy book’s abilities. The monster was literally one twitch away from beheading him here and now and absconding with that stupidly dangerous book. That seemed like an attractive idea in general. It would keep others from using the Divine item against it, if nothing else.

“Yeah, it’s not worth it. LIAR, forget I asked about the Sandman.”

“Acknowledged. Cancelling query.”

At the very least, it would appear Nao was unwilling to sacrifice the majority of his memories just for that.

“Mr. S again?” asked Keira with a raise of her eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you it’s best if you don’t get involved with that guy.”

“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “The way I understand it, he’s the one that pulled me and Kuro out of the fire last night.”

“Really? Huh. That’s unexpected.”

“Is it? I heard he was originally a vigilante that targeted black markets and slave traders. Seems right up his alley.”

“Yeah, but he mostly did that so he could steal their stuff. I’ve worked with the guy, and the only thing he truly cares for is money. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a professional and a reliable ally, but only if you pay him beforehand.

Point is, he’s not the type of person that would help others if he wasn’t getting anything out of it.”

“… That just makes me nervous. It makes it sound like he was also after the LIAR.”

“Both the Gilded Hand and your friend from the FIB seemed to know about it, so it’s definitely possible.”

“I see you’re as sharp as they say, ma’am,” Gibbs chuckled dryly.

“Part of the job, Gibbsy,” she flashed him a smirk before turning back to Nao. “Anyway, I don’t think you need to worry about Mr. S. It sounds like he had the perfect opportunity to do weird things to you, but he didn’t.”

“Right, I suppose that’s a point. But then why did he show up at all?”

That’s what I want to know! Boxxy yelled internally.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to take a guess,” Keira thoughtfully cupped her chin, “giving you up to those war criminals would be bad for business.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as I understand, he made a lot of gold from the war, and he was only able to do that because he followed me around and helped me out. I don’t know how, but he figured out I was a Hero long before anyone else did. He might be hoping to secure some profitable contract by doing the same with you.”

“Oh, I see! That’s what he meant!”

“Huh? Meant what?”

“Apparently, he told Kuro something about ‘Heroes being a valuable resource’ when they parted ways last night. It seems he was speaking rather literally.”

Well, that wasn’t quite what Boxxy was alluding to, but it certainly wasn’t going to complain if that was how its words were interpreted. It seemed

‘cryptic bullshit’ was almost as effective a smokescreen as ‘weaponized cuteness.’

“Hmpf. Valuable resource,” repeated Keira with a scoff. “That certainly sounds like something he’d say.”

There seemed to be a momentary lull in the conversation, so Agent Gibbs decided now was a good time to change the subject to one he was curious about.

“Excuse me, ma’am? I’d like your opinion on something.”

“Uhm, sure, if you think it’ll help.”

“I appreciate your consideration. I would like to ask what you think of the Gilded Hand’s intentions, now that you know what they were after. Do you have any idea what it was they hoped to gain from all this? Or what their end goal might be?”

“Come now, Agent Gibbs. Surely you presume too much,” Nao shook his head. “If you don’t know that, there’s no way she would.”

“I am aware. Nevertheless, I would appreciate any sort of insight Decanus Morgana might be able to offer.”

“No offense to Keira, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. The secret they wanted could literally have been anything.”

“… Actually, I do have an idea,” she blurted out. “Well, more of a guess, really.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Nao was naturally surprised at the girl’s words, but the elf’s expression showed he was just as astounded even though he was the one that asked. In actuality, Boxxy knew precisely what Edward was trying to do. It might have repressed a lot of the painful memories surrounding its capture, but it could scarcely forget why it had to go through all that suffering. If volunteering this information helped the FIB bring down that bastard, it would be more than happy to oblige. It just needed to present it in a way
that didn’t compromise its Facade any further. Thankfully, it recalled a certain weirdo that would serve perfectly as a scapegoat.

“I met someone back in New Whitehall, an intelligence officer called Cecilia Underwood. She noticed a lot of, uh, unusual trends. One of those was the disappearance of dungeon cores, which she suspected were part of the Empire’s efforts to reproduce and weaponize the Calamity of Monotal.”

Of course, there was a chance the Bureau already knew that considering the woman in question worked for them, but it was a big organization. Whoever was in charge of the Gilded Hand investigation might not have been aware of Cecilia. Or worse – they were. Anyone personally acquainted with the chaotic priestess would know that many of the ‘unusual trends’ she noticed turned into wild conspiracy theories. Even if the right people caught wind of the claims Keira was talking about, they would most likely sweep them under the rug along with her other eccentricities. Either way, an endorsement by the unusually perceptive Hero of Chaos would hopefully make the FIB take a closer look at the dungeon core theory and realize its uncanny validity. It was a long shot, but one worth taking.

“That… That’s horrible!” exclaimed Nao. “What sort of twisted freak would do that?!”

“Query received. Compiling…”

“Not you, LIAR!”

“Acknowledged. Cancelling query.”

“Sorry, it does that sometimes. If that’s what they’re actually after, then I think I’d rather die than give it to them.”

“Let’s not get dramatic here,” Keira motioned for him to settle down. “I have no idea if any of that is actually true, but it certainly seems like the sort of thing a bunch of evil bastards might need an all-knowing book for.”

“It’s certainly a frightening proposition,” remarked Gibbs. “I appreciate the input, Decanus. I’ll make sure to pass it on to my superiors.”

“No problem, and I hope it helps. Wait, hold on,” she turned to the book-face. “Why don’t you just use this LIAR thing to track the scumbags down?”

“We have already taken the matter under consideration, and Master Shoki has offered his full support. However, we have deemed the information not worth the price of admission. Plus, our adversary knows of the LIAR’s capabilities and has likely taken steps to counteract it. Even if we get a current location, there’s no telling whether it will remain that way by the time we’re prepared to act. Let’s not even mention the political clusterfuck

– if you’ll pardon my language – of performing an unsanctioned military operation outside our borders.”

“So, you’re going to sit on your hands?!”

“We take steps to protect our interests and our citizens, ma’am. Same as we always have.”

“Actually,” Nao had an epiphany, “I might be able to help. This trick doesn’t always work, but… LIAR, tell me how to replicate the Calamity of Monotal.”

“Query received. Compiling…”

“Nao? What are you-?!”

He raised a hand, gesturing her to stop.

“Trust me on this.”

“Done,” the book reported. “Thy fee amounts to: five unbound mid-range dungeon cores.”

“Okay. Forget I asked that,” he calmly stated. “What is the Gilded Hand’s current main objective?”

“New query received. Compiling… Done. Thy fee amounts to: two unbound mid-range dungeon cores.”

“I see. I think that will be all for now, LIAR. You’re dismissed.”

“Acknowledged. The Librarium Infinitus Arcana Refactorium thanks thee for thy patronage and wishes thee an enlightened day.”

The book abruptly closed, instantly reverted back to its original appearance, and fell into Nao’s Item Box. It was as if the grimoire forced open that Storage-like portal of its own volition, though the owner didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, there you have it, Agent Gibbs. Whether you and your bosses want to interpret that as confirmation that the Hand is researching the Calamity is up to you.”

“That’s… certainly an innovative way of using the Divine item,” admitted the elf. “I’ll make sure to include this in my report, along with Decanus Morgana’s suggestion.”

“Nice one, Nao!” Keira merrily slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re really good at working that thing!”

“Haha! Yes, well, I guess even a spineless wimp that breaks your stuff is good for something.”

“… I’m not taking that back.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“So… What will you and Kuro do now?”

“That’s a bit of a tricky situation, actually. Lady Imiryl was going to give us a ride back home on the Endeavor.”

“You mean the flying ship from last night? She owns that?”

“It’s technically her guild’s, but she more or less runs it. Actually, that reminds me, are they going to keep you locked up much longer?”

“Hmpf. They can try!” she puffed her chest out. “I can get out of here in thirty seconds if I need to!”

“The Decanus will be released in a few hours along with the other guests.”

Keira’s boisterous pose deflated, and she shot the spoilsport a brief-yet-mean look.

“Excellent,” Nao started rummaging through his Item Box. “Think you can do me a favor and gather some materials for me? I can’t exactly go shopping like this, and I’ll need them urgently once they let me go.”

He pulled out a rather long list and handed it over. A quick skim revealed it to be a mix of crystals, powders, and alchemical reagents.

“I’ll make sure to reimburse you.”

“Uh, sure. I’m pretty sure Eduardo’s Ethereal Emporium down the road has most of the stuff. What do you need it for?”

“I’ll need them to fix up the Endeavor’s Flash Drive. I imagine it’s somewhat imploded at the moment.”

“Wait, you mean the ship’s teleportation device?”

Boxxy heard all about it from Hilda and Lichter when they dropped by to check on Keira late last night.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure you’re qualified to handle something that advanced?”

“I would certainly hope so, considering its design is based on a thesis I wrote.”

“Woah. Okay, that’s actually kind of impressive.”

“Thanks, though it’s still a work in progress.”

“Need a hand with that? I’m pretty good with a screwdriver!”

“Uh,” he winced a little, “I appreciate the offer, but the mechanism is almost entirely magical. There’s not much an Artificer could help with.

Besides, I don’t think light-based teleportation is your area of expertise.”

That was his roundabout way of saying he didn’t want the redhead anywhere near the sensitive prototype. Her unpredictable Chaotic Disposition aside, he’d heard all about her ‘expertise.’ The thought of having a notorious bomb-maker nearby wasn’t exactly a reassuring one, regardless of her intentions.

“That’s fair,” she agreed. “Why’s the thing so important though? Can’t the ship still fly?”

“It can, but it’s slow and vulnerable. Lady Imiryl and her companions will be escorting me, but these Gilded Hand people might have more nasty tricks in reserve. We need the Flash Drive to bail us out of any tight spots, so the ship isn’t going anywhere until that’s fixed.”

“That’s smart, but where will you even go?”

“Back to the Pearly Dunes. Once we get there, Kuro’s colleagues will protect us from any pursuers or spies.”

“You sure? They didn’t seem all keen to keep you safe on this trip,” Keira pointed out.

“That’s mostly because I turned them down. I’ll be honest, I’d rather not get involved. Kuro’s obviously an exception, but I don’t trust the sand spiders or their masters.”

“Ah. Politics?”

“Politics,” he nodded. “Still, I’d rather be in their debt than risk falling victim to those Gilded Hand lunatics. Hopefully that Inquisition movement can bring them to justice before long.”

“I hear you. I’d hunt them down myself, but I know when I’m outclassed.

I’m honestly surprised they didn’t attack you on the way here.”

“I’m not. Kuro and I know how to keep a low profile. We even use glamours when traveling, just in case people are trying to track us.”

“Glamours? What do you mean?”

“Oh, right. I forgot they weren’t common around these parts. Here, let me show you.”

He pressed a hand against his chest, causing his enchanted robes to produce an illusory disguise that made him look like a completely different person.

He was still a male, wolf-eared beastkin, but slightly taller and with an unfamiliar face. It was a different application of the same effect produced by Boxxy’s Prismatic Cloak. The shapeshifter had no idea this was possible, but, then again, it was ignorant on a great number of topics.

“It’s not perfect,” his voice was several octaves deeper, “but it usually gets the job done. I imagine even the Empire’s spies had trouble ambushing us on the road.”

He undid the glamour with a sigh.

“I guess we lingered a little too long in Azurvale.”

Hearing all that confirmed Boxxy’s suspicions that they actually had no idea Nao was in Azurvale before the Clash happened. The monster wasn’t
buying Gibbs’s earlier explanation in the slightest. Yes, the Gilded Hand committed a lot of manpower and resources, but the enemy had access to griffins. Royal griffins. They could easily make it all the way from the Empire to Azurvale in a matter of days. The fact that the FIB were trying to lie about it to a couple of Heroes was curious, but there would be no point in calling out some low-level grunt like Gibbs on it. He probably didn’t have all the details anyway.

“Well, I suppose there is a small silver lining to all this,” Keira smiled.

“What would that be?”

“You guys will be sticking around for a while longer, yeah?”

“Indeed. For a few weeks more, at least. Why?”

“Because it means we get to hang out some more, of course!” she happily declared.

“I… I don’t know how you can be positive about that. I mean, people died and-”

“Nope! None of that!” insisted the catgirl. “You had no control over what happened, so getting upset over it won’t change a thing. When things get dark, you need to grab whatever joy you can and hold on tight, no matter how small it seems. Trust me on this.”

Indeed, Nao found it hard to dismiss those words given what he knew of her history. He also couldn’t help but feel a smile bubble up, drawn forth by Keira’s infectious cheerfulness. It was difficult not to get swept up in her pace, and right now, he definitely needed something to take his mind off yesterday’s attack. Thus, he was reading that book on lightning magic even though it really wasn’t his forte.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What wondrous shenanigans do you have in mind?”

“Well, I figure since you like mysteries, you might want to wrap up the one I showed you when we first met.”

“Oh? Hm…”

With all this Gilded Hand business looming over him, the Hero of Magic had forgotten that the matter of the strange pink gem presumed to be

Natalie’s Divine item remained unresolved. Keira and Nao made plans to ask Imiryl to help them safely set it off to see what it does, and Boxxy saw no reason why they couldn’t follow through. Sure, they had only just come under attack, but the Hand would need time to regroup and recover before they could mount another offensive, especially with the Republic’s authorities and VIPs on high alert. Now was their best chance, given the Hero of Magic’s intentions to go into hiding after he left the country.

“Yes, I suppose that would be rather enlightening,” he admitted.

“You bet your scrawny butt it will, but later. For the moment I brought along a bit of entertainment since I had a feeling you might be feeling down.”

She reached into her trouser pocket and took out a well-used deck of playing cards, which she proceeded to shuffle with a confident smirk.

“Ever played Three-Dragon Downs?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Then it’s a great time to learn, wouldn’t you say?”

Indeed, acquiring knowledge was another of Nao’s pastimes. Admittedly, card games weren’t exactly high on his list of interests, nor were they of any academic importance. Then again, the same could be said of the books in Imiryl’s office. These shelves were filled with a random assortment of titles mostly there for aesthetic reasons. Even the one he was reading earlier was actually a light novel even though the cover made it seem like it was about lightning magic. All things considered, he’d rather play a friendly game or two with Keira.

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, then-“

“Just a second, Decanus,” the agent piped up. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“The FIB is already making an exception by allowing you to visit Master Shoki. We won’t be allowing an extra person in here just so you can play
cards.”

“Why would we need an extra person?”

“The game requires three people, does it not?”

It was called Three-Dragon Downs for a reason. Its rules literally could not work with fewer players. Unless, of course, Keira intended to play two hands at once, but that was a travesty Gibbs wouldn’t want to bear witness to regardless.

“Yeah, and there’s already three of us.”

“… Ah.”

In other words, she was indirectly asking if he wanted to play as well.

Gibbs didn’t even consider playing until she said that, but he certainly liked the sound of it. The room had been so dreadfully silent before Keira came in that it made minutes feel like hours. Guarding the Hero of Magic was an important duty that he took seriously, but it was still incredibly dull.

Admittedly, the agent wasn’t entirely certain if he was allowed to partake in some casual gambling while on duty, but he wasn’t expressly forbidden from doing so. He also doubted anybody would give him shit for it. The agent’s superiors would surely understand, given that Three-Dragon Downs was something of a tradition among the Republic’s military and adventurers. Everyone in the FIB knew how to play, though Gibbs liked to think he was better at it than most. He was actually rather competitive, though he obviously wouldn’t get serious in this situation.

“So, what do you say, Gibbsy? You’re not scared to go up against the Third Legion’s reigning Tee-Dee-Dee champ, are you?”

The provocative tone and statement were punctuated by her flicking a card at his chest, to which he responded by slamming a satchel of gold against the desk with such intensity that his glasses nearly fell off.

“You’re going down, Morgana!”

“Now we’re talking!”

Nao wasn’t sure where this was headed, but figured it couldn’t hurt to play along. Over the course of the next hour, he learned three very important things about Three-Dragon Downs. One, the game was just as much about
deception and strategy than it was about random chance. Two, it got surprisingly intense as time went on and the stakes continued to climb.

Lastly, veteran players were so passionate about the game that it wasn’t uncommon for them to come to blows over it. Nao experienced that third bit personally when Keira lost a big hand, accused Gibbs of cheating, leapt over the desk, and headbutted the man hard enough to knock him on his ass.

As a professional, the FIB agent returned the favor by kicking her in the gut when she tried to hit him while he was still down. The ensuing brawl was ultimately written off as a friendly bout of roughhousing, and any

‘winnings’ were put towards replacing Imiryl’s broken furniture. Overall, the incident was resolved with no hard feelings or long-lasting repercussions for either Keira or Gibbs, both of which claimed it was good for stress relief.

However, their actions had the opposite effect on the Hero of Magic as it served to reignite his fear of violent women.

Part Three

A massive tower stood in the middle of a snow-covered field about forty kilometers north of Azurvale. A spatial rift burst open just outside the property’s fenced perimeter a few hundred meters away. A group of four people passed through the portal – one elf and three beastkin. Each wore thick coats, hoods, and cloaks to shield them from the cold air and heavy snowfall as they made their way towards the tower. They took the path of trampled snow and approached the structure, walking past a few much smaller buildings along the way. The heavy gates along the tower’s base swung open as the visitors approached. A robed figure emerged to greet them – a mature human woman with bright green eyes and hair.

“Good morning, Lady Imiryl,” the attendant courteously bowed.

The elderly high elf pulled down her hood.

“Good morning,” she replied, then gestured to the others. “These are the guests I mentioned.”

“Nao Shoki at your service,” the first Hero introduced himself.

“Kurosaki Wasari, likewise,” his bodyguard followed suit.

“Hi! I’m Keira! Good to meet ya!”

“Indeed, a pleasure to make your acquaintances. I am Matilda, this facility’s caretaker in the Lady’s absence. Please, come inside, and don’t hesitate to come to me should you have any questions or requests.”

The fresh arrivals gingerly took her up on that offer. Even if their clothing shielded them from the ungodly weather, it was still quite unpleasant.

Matilda took charge of showing the guests around while her boss went off to make some preparations. Rather than leading them higher up the tower, the caretaker took them down to the second underground level. Along the way, they passed a number of other people. Some human, some elf, some gnomes, yet one could not help but notice that the male-to-female ratio was skewed heavily in favor of the latter. In fact, it was almost as if Nao and Kuro were the only men in the entire building aside from a few surly-looking security personnel.

The disparity could be attributed to the fact that women were statistically more adept at weaving the arcane arts than men. Studies from every major nation showed that female practitioners of magic were both more numerous and of a higher average Level across the continent. However, this gender gap was quite minor – within three to six percent. A difference like that could not feasibly account for the overwhelming one-sided nature of the tower’s staff. The actual cause of the disparity was Lady Imiryl’s biased hiring policy. She had a reputation for only accepting women as apprentices and employees. She felt entirely justified in acting this way since there were far too many ‘old boys’ clubs’ out there that did the opposite. The women who benefitted from the high elf’s policies certainly weren’t complaining.

Working or studying under Lady Imiryl was a tremendous privilege. The pay, benefits, and education were first-rate, not to mention the career advancement opportunities. They weren’t just given those because they were born without a penis, either. Every woman in that tower earned her place through fierce competition and had to maintain a certain level of performance.

Unfortunately, while extremely productive and lucrative, this work environment was also filled with stress and pressure. The big-brained ladies had almost no time to dedicate to fostering relationships outside the workplace. Given the near-total lack of men, this was a huge problem for those that wanted to find a husband, which was about eighty percent of employees. In other words, the tower was filled with single, powerful women who were so starved for companionship that it practically made them carnivorous. Desperate, even. It was only natural they’d want to pounce on Nao. A young, bronze-skinned guy with cute ears, a fluffy tail, and gentle-looking face? There was no way the cougars could ignore such a catch that strolled right into their den. They were instantly drawn in by his boyish charms, and the looks they threw him ranged from curious to ravenous.

This sort of attention would normally stress Nao out so bad he’d run for the hills with his tail between his legs. He had repeatedly stated he couldn’t deal with women – especially aggressive or violent ones – and Keira was well aware of this phobia. Not only did she trigger it on multiple occasions, but she witnessed it back at the Aurora Eve party before it got crashed. The high-class ladies in attendance gave the baby-faced wolf-man much the
same treatment as he was getting at the moment, forcing Nao to spend most of the night cowering behind Kuro. Yet, despite being in a more

‘dangerous’ environment, the guy handled himself with ease. He casually and calmly rejected all the passes the frustrated employees made and did not hesitate to take a firm stance against the more persistent ones. In total, he brushed off nine of the harpies by the time the group arrived at a small break room. Matilda, who had been quietly guiding the guests the whole time, asked the fuzzy-eared trio to wait there until Lady Imiryl was ready for them then went off to fetch snacks and refreshments.

Now that they were alone, Keira decided to confront the suspiciously confident Hero.

“Alright. What did you do?”

Nao was clearly taken aback by her accusatory tone, but did not flinch or shrink back like he normally did.

“Whatever do you mean, Keira?”

“Don’t act dumb. You were still a pathetic wimp when I saw you three days ago, yet you almost slapped that beehive-headed lady when she tried to hit on you. How in Vasily’s left carpet did you get so cocky in so little time?”

“I, uh, I just started listening to what you kept telling me.”

Keira’s expert opinion on why Nao had so many problems with aggressive women was rather simple. He allowed his shy and timid nature to take hold, always backing away when others pushed. He kept showing weakness, so predatory females kept chasing after him. If he learned to decisively reject their advances, he would have a much easier time dissuading them with words. It was mostly a theory, but one that had proven quite true.

There was just one problem.

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. Even I wasn’t stupid enough to expect a few pep talks to clear up your trauma.”

According to Nao’s own words, the source of his troubles lied in his childhood. He grew up an orphan, and the girls at the orphanage bullied and teased him relentlessly for years. He was eventually taken in by a foster family, but the wife turned out to be a violent alcoholic. She didn’t lay a
hand on the little pup, though that was only because the focus of her drunken abuse was her husband. This only aggravated Nao’s bully-induced trauma to the point it became a full blown phobia by the time he was legally an adult and struck out on his own. Given all that, it was hardly surprising the wolfkin turned out the way he did, though it was difficult to believe such a deep-rooted fear could be resolved in such a short time without extreme measures.

“Did you finally man up and take the crash course I told you about?” the girl raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not!” he protested. “I’m frankly still appalled you even considered it!”

“Crash course? What’s that about?” asked Kuro.

“A visit to the local brothel,” Keira bluntly stated. “One night with a trained professional will do wonders for anyone’s confidence.”

“Speaking from personal experience, are we?”

“Not at all, just common sense. I’d never be caught dead in one of those establishments.”

“They didn’t have ‘your type,’ did they?” the larger wolf-man grinned.

“That’s not the point. Nao’s clearly done something drastic over the past few days, and if it wasn’t spending the night with a lady of ill repute, then I demand to know what.”

“I haven’t done anything! I’m telling you, I just-“

*BAM*

The younger sworn sibling’s protests were cut off when Keira slammed her hands on the dining table between them.

“Nao, I’m a woman, an adventurer, and the Hero of Chaos. That’s three separate intuitions that say you’re guilty of something.”

Surprisingly, that boast was only two-thirds fabrication. The real source of Boxxy’s certainty was that it got a notification the night before yesterday that stated the flows of chaos had returned to their causal state. That meant the Agent of Chaos Skill had run its course, and, considering it first
triggered in Nao’s presence, it must have done something to him that resulted in this change of attitude. Boxxy intended to milk the friendly relationship between the two beastkin Heroes for years to come, but this outcome could potentially ruin that prospect. It adamantly wanted to figure out exactly what had transpired in its absence and adjust accordingly.

“Last chance. Are you going to fess up or will I have to play nasty?” Keira asked menacingly.

“I’m telling you, nothing has happened!” Nao insisted.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Kuro, what has this guy been up to?”

“He contracted a succubus and had her sleep with him. They kept going at it since yesterday.”

The near-instantaneous reply was followed by several seconds of heavy silence until Keira spoke in a condescending, pitying tone.

“Ah, I see. So, you used a succubus. Good for you.”

“Kuro! How could you!?”

“I owe her for warning me about the ambush,” he said with a shrug. “We both do.”

“But-! But-! She hates me now! She’s looking at me like I’m a piece of garbage!”

“You kind of are. Even I think the brothel would’ve been a better idea, but you’d never hear it because your ‘wand’ barely qualifies as Standard class.”

“Wh- Why would you say that?! It’s totally not true!”

“I’d bet ten grand it is,” the redhead piled it on.

“Yeah, well… Your tits are small!”

Nao’s immature words invited another round of awkward silence during which Kuro carefully shifted to intervene should Keira go ‘psycho mode’

again.

“… Rowie thinks they’re cute.”

Thankfully, her reaction was rather mellow as she self-consciously covered them up.

“Uh… S-sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Nao apologized. “I’m sure she’s right.”

“Oh, so you saw one pair of fake udders and you’re an expert on tits now, are you?”

It appeared she wasn’t done giving the horny idiot a piece of her mind.

“What? That’s not what I- They weren’t fake!”

“They were on a succubus! She’s literally a living piece of erotic fiction!

The kind that sucks your soul out!”

“It’s not like-“

“And another thing!”

Though Nao tried to put up a fight, the fired-up redhead gave him the verbal beatdown of the century. Kuro did nothing to bail him out as he rocked back and forth on a chair with his boots on the table, humming under his breath.

If anything, he was grateful for Keira’s lecture since it spared him the trouble of giving one of his own. By the time Matilda returned with refreshments a few minutes later, Nao was on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness. Well, figuratively. What the caretaker actually saw was one Hero sitting in the corner with his red face in his palms, the other one glaring daggers while breathing heavily, and a strangely apologetic bodyguard who quietly asked her to ignore all of it. Clearly, some kind of argument had taken place, but it hadn’t turned violent and it was none of Matilda’s business, so she discretely left the serving tray with Kuro and left the break room.

Thankfully, the hot tea and fresh biscuits did wonders to mellow everyone out.

“Gotta say, that’s quite the tongue ya have on ya, runt,” Kuro chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone call my brother a ‘piss-stained fleabag.’ I’ll need to remember that one.”

Though the insult didn’t seem too harsh by elf or human standards, animal-based swearing was seen as particularly offensive in beastkin culture.

Boxxy knew that, which was precisely why it chose those words, among
others. It really let Nao have it since it was genuinely angry at him, though not out of concern for his safety as Keira stated. Its ire stemmed from the wasted opportunity. Agent of Chaos had the potential to make the impossible a reality, like when it indirectly transformed a mentally disturbed gnome into a psychotic murder-machine without peer. Boxxy had been quite curious as to what absurd things it could do to someone important like the Hero of Magic. Anything could’ve happened, though given his love for experimentation, the shapeshifter was hoping to get a new Artifact out of the ordeal. Yet, the idiot squandered that opportunity to get laid. Worse still, he chose to do it with a succubus that could have easily drained him dry and ruined all of Boxxy’s hard work over the past two weeks.

In retrospect, however, the shapeshifter realized it might have taken things a bit too far, so it decided to ease off a bit, lest this compromise the Heroes’

friendship.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Keira sighed, “I got a temper problem. It’s no wonder people are calling me stuff like Red Menace and Mad Jester. I still meant what I said, though.”

“And you were right,” Nao admitted. “I realize it now, but I was panicking at the time.”

“Really? About what?”

“This visit. It’s not my first time here. I remembered what it was like here.

It scared me so much, but I didn’t want to back out and inconvenience a whole bunch of people, so I… got a bit desperate. Though, it’s not like I just, uh, dove right in. I knew it was dangerous, so I took some precautions.

Wards and potions and such. I assure you it was perfectly safe.”

“… Still kinda gross, though.”

“I agree. That’s why I’d appreciate if you kept this quiet.”

“Bit late for that. I’m pretty sure everyone in the tower heard me.”

“Oh, all the walls are sound-proofed. People here need to focus on their work and studies. It should be fine so long as we never speak of this again.

So… please?”

“Okay, but only if you promise to never bring out that sentient sex doll when I’m around.”

“Deal. By the way, you did bring the gem with you, right?” Nao changed the subject.

“Nope. Left it at home.”

“Huh? But wasn’t testing it the whole reason- Oh. You did that on purpose.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you… sure that was a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? It always comes back to me no matter what, right?”

“Yeah, but will it make it in time? Lady Imiryl is almost ready for us, and this tower is forty kilometers from your house.”

“It’ll be fine, trust me. I, uh, ran some experiments over the past few days.”

In that time, the shapeshifter discovered just how impossible it was to get rid of that pink stone. It was so prolific not even long-distance teleportation could keep it out of Boxxy’s possession for long. Though, the monster wasn’t exactly being scientific when it kept throwing it into weird places and running away at top speed.

“Please be more responsible with it,” Nao sighed. “Divine items are not playthings.”

“I wasn’t playing. I was experimenting,” the redhead insisted. “Besides, it’s just a harmless little rock. What’s the worst that-“

*CLUNK*

Just then, there was a loud noise from above. The beastkin trio barely looked up when the ceiling exploded and ice-cold water flooded through, drenching them all. The culprit was a rusty pipe that had burst. Thankfully, Keira was able to stop the flow with a quick, well-placed Icebolt that froze the faulty piece of plumbing. Matilda arrived shortly afterwards with a few custodians. The staff members profusely apologized to the guests while warming and drying them with the aid of some magic items. Keira and Nao kept reassuring them it was not an issue – accidents happened, after all.

Of course, neither Hero dared mention this particular mishap was caused by a shiny little bauble that came rushing in with the freezing flow.

“I think it’s mad at you,” Nao whispered.

“Can… can gems actually get mad?” Keira quietly asked.

“I’d say this one can, so you should probably stop playing with it.”

“Yeah…”

The pair plus Kuro were currently on their way to meet up with Imiryl.

When Matilda stumbled into the flooded room, she had actually been sent to inform the guests that the high elf was ready for them. The caretaker stayed behind to attend to the mess and sent the visitors on their way with a floating eyeball as their guide. It wasn’t a real eye, of course, just a mindless construct created by Matilda’s magic. It could still relay sights and sounds back to its owner, which was why the beastkin were keeping their voices low. Kuro just followed behind, looking completely unbothered.

Sure, it wasn’t pleasant to get drenched out of nowhere, but he knew better than to dwell on a mishap. Besides, it would make for a funny story eventually, though he’d probably omit the part where his idiot brother did it with a succubus.

The trio spent the next few minutes following that magic eyeball through the tower’s basement levels, which was a lot bigger than one might assume.

The underground portion of the facility actually took up just as much space as the colossal stone spire above, just shorter and wider. Upon reaching their destination, the guests entered a dome-shaped ritual chamber about four meters tall and twice as wide. Glowing sigils lined the reinforced metal walls and floor, likely fortifying the place in case some experiment went awry. This was a sound precaution given the uncertainty surrounding Keira’s ‘harmless little rock.’ The high elf Wizard was waiting for her guests in the middle, having changed out of her winter cloak into a set of fancy-looking black robes embroidered with golden thread.

“Hello again,” Imiryl greeted them. “What’s wrong with you three?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Keira quickly replied.

“You sure? You look a bit… frazzled.”

“Just a small accident with a leaky pipe, my Lady,” Nao claimed. “It’s nothing to worry about. Your custodian is taking care of it.”

“Hm. Very well. Let us not delay any further. Keira, would you kindly hand me the item so I can begin?”

“Of course, here you are.”

She held up the square jewel that had recently returned to her hand. Imiryl carefully picked it up with her thumb and ring finger and held it up to her eye, inspecting it.

“I’ll just leave you to it, then. Good luck!”

With that, the redhead turned and tried to vacate the area. There was still a non-zero chance of the thing exploding, so Boxxy didn’t want to be next to it. It intended to take cover behind the little alcove on one end of the chamber, which was constructed for that express purpose. Unfortunately, it seemed as though it wouldn’t get much of a choice as it heard something clack against the floor and bump against the back of its ankle.

“My apologies,” the elf spoke. “I was sure I had a good grip on it.”

“It’s fiiiine,” Keira groaned as she picked up the rebellious trinket. “Seems this guy really doesn’t want to be separated from me today.”

“Ah, of course. Nao did mention something about probability manipulation, but I did not expect it to be so… blatant.”

“Lady, you don’t know the half of it,” Kuro chimed in.

“Indeed? Care to elaborate on this property some more, Keira?”

“I’d like to, but I have no idea where to even start.”

“Well, I have a general idea of its function, but do you know what triggers it?”

“Hmm… I’m not really sure, to be honest. It’s not just distance. Most of the time, it seems content to stay at home even if I’m not there.”

Oddly enough, this went both for Rowana’s house and Boxxy’s lair.

“I think it starts acting up whenever someone other than me touches it,”

Keira added, “or if I drop it somewhere else. So, I guess it starts making its
way back to me whenever it thinks its lost or stolen.”

“I see,” Imiryl nodded. “In that case, I must ask you to assist me. I won’t be able to charge it if I can’t even hold onto it.”

“I mean… if I have to… Just to make sure, it won’t explode or anything, right?”

“In my experience, the likelihood is extremely small. Magic items meant to explode are typically made out of denser materials, like stones or metals. I also seriously doubt your patron would want to blow up their Hero for kicks.”

“No, he absolutely would. This is the God of Gambling we’re talking about.

He’d happily watch me get vaporized if it came out of nowhere.”

“Then it is a good thing I chose this site for the test. Should a violent discharge of magical energy take place, these dampening wards will activate and suppress the rampant mana before any harm comes to us.”

“But… will they be strong enough? What if it’s some unbelievable blast that would normally wipe out an entire neighborhood?”

“Keira, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t confident of your safety. I know you are largely unfamiliar with the mystic arts, but your mistrust in my abilities is rather insulting.”

“Okay! Okay. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Good, now come here and hold it up. Yes, just like that.”

The catkin held out her palm, the gem resting on top of it per Imiryl’s instructions. The high elf placed one hand on top of Keira’s while the other clasped it from below. Nao and Kuro, who were mostly here just to watch, relocated to the aforementioned alcove to observe from a safe distance.

They would’ve normally gotten closer, but something about Keira’s worries had given them pause. Even if they trusted Imiryl, it was impossible to disregard the concerns of the Hero of Chaos, especially after that incident in the break room. The testing chamber turned deathly silent as Imiryl focused her magic onto a singular point. This lasted for several seconds before she suddenly let go of Keira’s hand and inhaled sharply.

“Phew! Greedy little thing, isn’t it?” the Wizard spoke, suddenly out of air.

“I just poured over 6,000 MP into it, but it’s far from satisfied.”

The redhead curiously held the gem up, allowing everyone to catch a glimpse at the slight inner glow it now had.

“Well, the charge doesn’t seem to be dissipating at least,” Imiryl added shortly after. “Give me ten minutes to recuperate and I shall try again.”

“Should I give it some of my mana, too?” the girl suggested. “It’s not much, but it should help.”

“Best not. Not all magic items react favorably to being charged by multiple people.”

“Alright.”

The finely-aged elf tried again after the specified break. The gem shone brighter, but Boxxy already knew it wasn’t close to fully charged. By its rough estimate, it would take at least 50,000 MP for that to happen. It wasn’t nearly as flustered as the elf after nearly an hour and a half of steadily juicing the thing up. It glowed brighter and brighter with each session and even started vibrating and letting out a high-pitched buzz as its charge passed the 40,000 MP mark. The exact same thing happened when the shapeshifter had Ambrosia try to fill it ages ago, but it asked her to stop since back then it had even less of an idea what the shiny thing did.

That wasn’t to say it felt any more confident about it this time around. Its concerns regarding a violent detonation were genuine. However, Imiryl had a hundred times more experience handling arcane objects. If anyone’s judgment could be trusted, it was hers. Boxxy was also insanely curious to learn exactly what shenanigans Crusty’s Divine treasure was capable of. So, it decided to stand its ground and challenge the non-zero chance that this entire tower and everyone in it would be instantly vaporized. The high elf showed similar conviction as she continued to charge the blasted thing even after it started buzzing and vibrating. It took a ridiculous amount of surety, confidence, and belief in one’s abilities to become an adventurer of her stature, and she had all of those in spades.

The moment of truth arrived during the tenth charging session. After receiving precisely 55,555 of Imiryl’s MP, both the elf and the beastkin
were pushed back by a small but dense wave of force. The mysterious gemstone, which now shone like a miniature star, floated in place while air swirled around it. Arcs of pink lightning jumped from it and scorched the floor, releasing bursts of rainbow-colored sparks in the process. The light show lasted exactly ten seconds, after which there was a loud, harsh, cascading noise like a chandelier rolling down some stairs. The very fabric of reality was torn asunder as a circular portal two meters in width materialized in the middle of the chamber. Its muddled, erratic surface rapidly stabilized, allowing everyone present a clear view of the beautiful sandy beach on the other side. Well, except for Imiryl, who only saw a twisting purplish abyss from the ‘rear’ side until she walked around.

“So… is that it?” asked Keira in a somewhat disappointed manner. “I mean, unless I’m missing something, opening a portal doesn’t seem all that big a deal.”

“You are indeed ‘missing something,’ Keira,” the Wizard spoke as she peered through the dimensional rift. “This facility should have military-grade spatial interference wards, yet this thing punched through them like it was nothing. What do you think, Nao?”

“I think it’s amazing,” he spoke with childlike wonderment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this doesn’t seem like spatial magic at all. It’s similar, yet completely different.”

“That’s what I was thinking. The way it formed and the patterns the event horizon makes are all… off.”

“Doesn’t look all that special to me…”

“It may seem like an extra-colorful portal to a rookie like yourself,” Nao explained, “but to the trained eye it’s hard to believe this thing is even keeping itself together.”

“Am I the only one bothered by the fact that the sun is freakin’ red?”

Everyone glanced through the portal at Kuro’s words. Now that he mentioned it, they realized that the sun reflected in the large body of water was indeed quite crimson. After peering through the rift more carefully, they realized the sky was an odd hue of purple that bordered on the typical blue. Light blurple was probably the best way to describe it. The overly
green water and the dark orange sand reinforced the idea that this scenery was not of this world.

Imiryl suddenly took a step through the ‘not-portal’ before anyone could even think about stopping her. The instant she crossed, her robe transformed into a stylish one-piece swimsuit, causing her extremely pale skin to practically glow in the reddish sunlight. It wasn’t the only change to her attire, as her heeled boots had turned into strapped sandals and her black hair was suddenly adorned with a mysterious green flower. The high elf looked down at herself, then took several seconds to scan her new surroundings. She glanced back through the portal, noting the stunned expressions on the beastkin trio’s faces. Having concluded her initial investigation, she went back through the threshold, which restored her outfit to normal.

“Well, that was educational,” she stated casually.

“Lady Imiryl?! What were you thinking?! What if something-!”

“Calm yourself, Nao. When you’ve been an adventurer for as long as I have, you get a feel for these things. In any event, I confirmed that Divine item’s function.”

“It creates portals to other worlds?”

“Not exactly, my dear Keira. It would be more accurate – though not entirely – to say it creates worlds.”

“… What?”

“Come, step through the rift with me. You’ll understand.”

The elf grabbed her by the hand and dragged her towards the rift. Boxxy wasn’t sure whether it wanted to go, but the elf had gone in and out safely enough, so it allowed itself to be dragged through. The instant it crossed over it was able to confirm three things. One, this place was incredibly hot.

Two, Keira’s winter clothes had turned into a rather daring white bikini.

Three, the high elf’s earlier claim was not as outlandish as it initially sounded.

[You have entered the Fun In The Sun instant dungeon.]

“Instant dungeon?” she muttered. “What’s that supposed to mean? Wait, are you telling me all of this really was created just a few moments ago?!”

“It would certainly appear that way,” confirmed Imiryl.

“But, an entire world?! With its own sun?!”

“Look around you, child. You’re a Ranger, you shouldn’t be deceived so easily.”

Boxxy was unsure what she meant by that, but nevertheless scanned the area. At a glance, it seemed like a random tropical island in the middle of an ocean. After a few moments, it noticed there was something odd about the horizon besides the strange colors. As it peered over the seemingly endless emerald waters with Eagle Eye, it realized they ended at a massive sky-colored wall around a kilometer off the shore. Boxxy squinted up at the crimson sun and discovered it wasn’t some celestial sphere an unimaginable distance away, but an elaborate lamp hanging off a stupidly tall ceiling. It should’ve known something was up when Hylt Metabolism did not react to the warm glow as it would normally with actual sunlight. After taking all these things into account, it now recognized this place for what it was – an immense stage with some outrageously convincing special effects. It even had waves that crashed against the orange shore and wind that swayed the blue-leaved palm tree forest behind the portal. That context made the sudden change to exotic swimwear slightly less nonsensical. Costumes were a vital part of any theatrical presentation, after all.

“Okay, yeah,” said Keira warily. “I think I’m starting to understand. Rather than an entire world, it’s more like a tiny slice of reality. Well, relatively speaking.”

“Exactly. By my estimate, this microcosm was generated based on a predetermined pattern using the magical energy I gave it.”

“… Huh?”

“You’ve seen Nao’s Item Box?”

“Yes?

“Think of it like that, but on a much larger scale and far more elaborate.”

“Oh, that’s what you meant. I guessed as much, but I doubt this space will be even remotely permanent.”

“An astute observation, yes.”

Common sense dictated that something made from nothing would return to nothing once the magic that spawned it ran its course. This applied to solid objects and living creatures alike, Boxxy’s Spell Crystals and familiars being prime examples. Escaped dungeon-born monsters like the shapeshifter seemed to be the only exception, but that wasn’t actually the case. During Keira’s magic lessons, Boxxy indirectly asked Nao why such creatures maintained their physical forms after death. Apparently, a dungeon core created monsters by manipulating various materials that were already present within its sphere of influence to construct a body, which was then somehow implanted with a soul and brought to life. The barely-understood process consumed mana, but the energy was spent on binding what was already there instead of creating something from nothing. Corpses within its sphere of influence would be recycled to make new monsters, but those taken beyond its scope would decompose normally. At least, that was what the most widely accepted theory claimed.

In other words, creatures like Boxxy weren’t an exception to the impermanence of conjured matter, just a workaround. Its familiars’ physical forms came close, which remained stable for an indefinite amount of time due to the alien presence holding them together. This weird beachfront property didn’t seem to have any of this ‘soul glue,’ so it would certainly disappear in due time. It was an astute observation that raised a follow-up question.

“So, how long do we have?” Keira asked it.

“It’s impossible to say,” said Imiryl. “Could be minutes, could be hours, could be days. Probably hours, though.”

“What about us? Aren’t we in danger if we linger here? Like, won’t we get trapped in here forever when the portal goes? Or, worse, disappear into nothingness?”

“I assure you that will not happen. We are not part of the Divine item’s design, so it is extremely likely we will simply be ejected out of this space when it begins to collapse.”

“Uh-huh. Well, would you rather be ‘extremely likely’ to survive or absolutely certain?”

The redhead jerked her head towards the portal that brought them into this pocket reality.

“… That is a very valid point.”

The two briskly returned to the underground test chamber, where Kuro and Nao were still debating whether they should follow. The guys naturally gave up on that notion when faced with the idea of being cast into the endless void between dimensions. The four of them decided to monitor the situation from the outside, though Keira did spot movement through the portal. She couldn’t get a good look at it, but she definitely saw some sort of aquatic creature momentarily rise to the water’s surface quite a few times. Well, it was an ‘instant dungeon,’ so the presence of ‘instant monsters’ was hardly surprising. Only time and repeated uses of the Divine item would tell, but Boxxy felt lucky that this dry run had resulted in such a tranquil scene. The God of Variables was big on variety, so it was safe to assume the generated dungeon could have been any number of things.

The portal began to unravel and destabilize exactly an hour after being opened. Another three minutes later it collapsed completely, leaving nothing in its wake but a square mystical gem. It had lost its unique pink luster and gone entirely transparent, making it look more like a plain glass bauble than an item forged by the Gods. Keira picked it up and tried to act casual, but the monster inside was unsure whether the shininess would come back. The thought that it wouldn’t was so dreadful it leaked through the mask and turned the redhead’s expression profoundly sad and concerned. The emotion was so obvious that Nao couldn’t help but try to comfort her.

“Don’t worry, it’ll get better,” he rubbed her shoulder.

“Really?” she asked pleadingly.

“Absolutely. Like any active item, it just needs some time to bounce back after doing its thing.”

“Even if it’s a Divine?”

“Of course! Might take a bit longer since that was a lot of energy, but it’ll be back to normal before you know it!”

Nao knew that for certain since his LIAR had a one-secret-per-day limit, though he was reluctant to speak of it in front of Imiryl since she didn’t know of it.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point. Thanks, Nao. I needed that.”

The guy felt rather proud of himself when he saw the catgirl perk up. Only then did he realize the absurdity of comforting her over an inanimate object as if it were a sick pet. It seemed like an unusual level of attachment, and it was odd that it seemed to draw him in. Then again, she was an unusual person with an infectious personality, so he decided not to question it. His friend was happy, and that was all that mattered.

“Shall we take this chance to tour the facility?” he suggested. “It’s not every day you get to visit a place like this. So long as Lady Imiryl approves, of course.”

“By all means,” the high elf nodded from the side. “Actually, Nao, while I have you here, I’d like to get your input on an idea regarding the Endeavor’s Flash Drive.”

“Oh? Do tell!”

“I recently got my hands on a rare chunk of star metal, and preliminary-”

“Excuse me,” Keira interrupted, “but could you take me home? Like, right now?”

Both of the twinkle-fingers were taken aback by the sudden and slightly rude request.

“I… can, but what brought this on? Are you feeling ill?”

Thankfully, Imiryl’s behind had taken a thousand dryad-administered lessons on humility last year, so her reaction was nowhere near as harsh as Nao expected.

“I’m fine,” the redhead claimed. “It’s just that this took a while and I remembered I need to do something urgent.”

“Ah, I understand. Can it wait a few minutes?”

“Uh…”

Though it was impossible, Boxxy really wished it could smack her with the notification in its head.

[An intruder has entered your dungeon.]

“No, it really can’t.”

Part Four

“Arms, where are you right now?”

“I’m on my way over to see who has the balls to enter your place, boss.”

“On foot?”

“The blippy thingie won’t work since there’s an intruder around.”

“Oh, right.”

Though the dungeon core had some great functions, many were unusable if there were unauthorized individuals around, including Nexus Access.

Boxxy had forgotten this tidbit, as this was the first time it had an uninvited guest.

“What about Ambrosia?” it asked.

“Haven’t seen her around. I tried shouting but she didn’t answer.”

It was unlikely she would. Ever since the dryad broke free of the core’s influence she had returned to her old self – the way she was before Boxxy barged its way into her trunk. In other words, she was largely unconcerned with the trifles of small existences. The shapeshifter was the only exception, and she would show up to greet it the instant it returned to her tree, almost like clockwork. This favorable attitude did not extend to its familiars, however, which meant she probably couldn’t even hear Arms and would ignore the fiend even if she could.

This was rather unfortunate as there was nobody else available to respond to the intruder alert. Claws and Snack had been deployed to monitor Imiryl’s tower from afar in case something went terribly wrong with the pink gem. It was hardly an unnecessary precaution, all things considered.

The dubious item aside, the high elf’s mastery of lightning magic made her a significant threat to the doppelganger. Not to mention there was a chance the Gilded Hand might try their luck at nabbing Nao again, or perhaps even strike at Keira. In short, Boxxy had multiple not-at-all-paranoid reasons to have its familiars on standby. Arms was left out since the big red buffoon had nowhere to hide in the snowy plains surrounding that tower.

This arguably worked in the monster’s favor since it meant that its lair wasn’t completely undefended.

“Do what you can to subdue the intruder,” it ordered. “Alive if at all possible. I can’t interrogate a corpse.”

That wasn’t entirely true since Boxxy could technically read a dead body’s memories through Broken Reflection, but that method was both limited and unreliable.

“Whatever you say, boss! I’m just glad this boring-ass guard duty finally paid off!”

“Snack, Claws – you two continue making your way back. Let me know the instant you’re in range of the dungeon.”

“Yes, Master,” the two replied in unison.

The webstalker was nimble and quick, and the djinn could fly. They would be able to make it back to town on their own, though it would likely be far too late to do anything to help. Keira was waiting on one of Imiryl’s assistants to finish opening a portal for her. She may have insisted a bit too much since those nosy brainiacs nearly insisted on coming along out of worry. Boxxy had to feed them some embarrassing story about Rowana’s period that definitely cost it some approval points. That was unimportant right now.

“Arms, status report. You’re taking a lot of damage.”

“It’s cool, I got this!”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Keep them busy until I get there. Also, could this stupid bitch GO ANY SLOWER?!”

The damnable assistant finally finished fumbling with her Gate Spell a few seconds later, and Keira practically leapt through the portal. The creature was transported to a specially prepared stone platform within the Central Consortium grounds. There were several of these spots that adventurers capable of teleportation could easily lock onto without worry of accidentally arriving in someone’s living room. Using these ‘arrival nodes’

wasn’t mandatory, but common practice. Unfortunately for Boxxy, that meant it was not as close to its destination as it would have liked. Still, it
was close enough. It briefly considered using Transfamiliar to get home instantly, but was wary of doing so since the Spell left it disoriented and vulnerable. Legging it was the safer option, so the shapeshifter bolted out of the area, darted through some alleyways, ducked into the sewer tunnels, and climbed through Ambrosia’s hollowed-out root. This wasn’t its only way into the Dryad’s Domain, but it was by far the quickest and most likely entry point for this intruder, so it intended to catch them in a pincer attack with Arms.

Yet, when the monster finally laid eyes on the invader, it completely blanked out. Standing at a little over 130 centimeters tall was a radiant white mithril golem holding its own against an archfiend literally twice its height. From its exquisitely shiny countenance to the unflappable manic grin on its face, it was without a doubt the shiniest of shinies – the crowning jewel of Boxxy’s collection. Fizzy had finally made her return.

However, she was far from the golem she used to be. Before, she was like a highly detailed statue that learned to crack skulls, but her current form seemed designed for combat from the ground up. Her frame sported an extra layer of mithril plating that made her slightly taller, noticeably bulkier, and significantly tougher. Some mysterious cables ran between the inner and outer armor, each glowing a vibrant blue as they distributed additional power from her core to her limbs. Speaking of which, Fizzy was no longer missing an arm, much to Boxxy’s relief. Her forearms, fists, calves, and feet looked especially thick and heavy, offering her greater balance and weightier punches. Not that she needed those heavy hands since she was still swinging her comically oversized wrench. The tool-turned-weapon seemed to have been upgraded with a few extra bits and a whole lot of mass, judging by how Arms couldn’t just shrug off those blows.

The most noticeable change could be found on Fizzy’s head. Her formerly rigid pigtails had been replaced by a pair of spherical coils emitting an aura of crackling electricity that wrapped around her new frame. This was what stupefied the shapeshifter initially, though not because of fear of its Bane.

There was a little of that, yes, but the emotion that overwhelmed it was awe.

The way those arcs and sparks danced off Fizzy’s already radiant shell was the most beautiful thing the monster had ever seen. The sight was made even more captivating by the golem’s motions. Every joint, every interlocking plate, every single bolt she boasted all moved with unified

purpose and perfect precision that made her previous self look like a clunky prototype. That observation wiped out any lingering doubts as to what had caused this dramatic transformation.

Fizzy had undergone a Rank Up.

Having recovered from the initial shock, Boxxy decided to quietly sit down and enjoy the duel. It watched as the golem’s transformed shield knocked aside a full force kick with barely any effort, leaving the fiend off balance.

It observed as Fizzy threw her wrench hard enough to break a left arm despite the armored gauntlet’s protection. It looked on as the former gnome
disappeared in a flash of lightning and reappeared far above Arms. It nearly cheered as the construct fell upon her opponent with a ferocious shield bash that broke off the demon’s middle horn. It stared in awe as the Paladin’s weapon sprang from the ground and buried itself in the archfiend’s exposed gut as if guided by an invisible hand. It also did not miss the moment when the golem’s entire right hand swung open and a short barrel emerged from her cylindrical forearm.

“Suck it, psycho!”

Fizzy’s metallic voice rang out as she launched some sort of glowing blue projectile. Boxxy could only see it for a split second before it splashed into the fiend’s face, nearly melting it clean off. The demon roared in anger and pain as she lashed out with an extremely low, uppercut-like blow. As a Berserker, her strength and speed only grew as she accumulated injuries, so this attack was a step above anything else she had thrown.

“Shield Wall!”

The shapeshifter was unsurprised that Fizzy saw it coming and reacted with a perfectly-timed Martial Art. The Artifact-grade shield-gauntlet affixed to her left arm had clearly undergone some kind of transformation during her Rank Up, but there was no doubt its toughness remained intact. The item flashed red at the moment of impact with the demon’s fist, stopping the blow dead with a bell-like gong that echoed through the hollow trunk. This disturbance seemed to finally grab Ambrosia’s attention. Either that or she sensed Boxxy’s return and wished to greet it. Whichever the case, the bountifully-proportioned dryad rose from the ground besides the clashing powerhouses along with a barrage of roots that knocked them several steps apart.

“Methinks ‘tis enough horseplay,” Ambrosia spoke in a commanding tone.

“Out of the way, grass-tits!” Kora growled.

“Yeah! This has been a long time coming!” Fizzy shouted back.

Though they spoke harshly, neither were willing to raise a hand against the dryad.

“I know not what grievances thou hath,” the tree-woman continued, “but thine foolishness is disturbing milord’s nap.”

It was only then that both psychopaths spotted the simple oaken treasure chest sitting inconspicuously by the dungeon’s original entrance, a pair of yellow dots shining under its slightly open lid.

“… Boxxy?” Fizzy muttered, the green light pouring out of her eyes flickering intensely. “Booooxxyyyyy!”

She completely forgot about everything else and dashed towards the monster with arms wide, but stopped dead in her tracks barely four steps later.

“Fizzy! We talked about this!” she chastised herself. “You promised you’d take a harder stance, remember?”

“Yeah!” she agreed with herself. “Things were going to be different this time around, right?!”

“But-!”

“No buts! Calm your shit and do it like we planned, or I swear we’re gonna turn this golem around! Right, Plus?!”

“Yup, yup,” the construct nodded vigorously.

It would appear the Paladin’s Parallel Plot Skill was still active, and she was currently having some sort of internal dispute. Boxxy already knew about Plus, but it would appear Fizzy had developed another personality since it last saw her. One that, by the sound of things, was far more aggressive and confrontational than the rest. The shapeshifter really did not know how to respond to this development, so it kept quietly staring at the golem while she argued with her other selves. Meanwhile, Kora was silently told to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out. It was clear she abused the gap in her master’s orders to assault this ‘intruder’ while ‘forgetting’ to report on her identity just so she could have some fun.

However, that act of insubordination was something that could be dealt with later. Right now, Boxxy had to focus all its attention on Fizzy, who had apparently reached some sort of internal consensus. Her eyes no longer glowed green, though they still let off a little bit of light akin to a spark trapped in her metal irises. The former was a sign that she had deactivated Parallel Plot and regained full control of her body, while the latter was likely a side effect of her Rank Up. Fizzy remained as still as a statue for a
few seconds longer before approaching the former mimic once more. Her gait was far more determined, as if she was getting ready to square off against a powerful foe. The golem planted her feet astride a few steps from the creature, which waited patiently for her to do whatever she felt was needed.

“You did horrible things to my past self,” she stated bluntly. “You lied to me, kidnapped me, got me thrown in jail. You broke me out, but only so you could treat me like your slave. You forced me to do things I never thought myself capable of. You violated my body and mind to the point my flesh no longer felt comfortable. You destroyed the person I was and turned me into an unfeeling, unhinged monster.”

“Yes, I did,” replied Boxxy. “And you are much stronger and shinier for it.”

“I know that. That is why I do not blame you for what happened. I never did. Even when I was a pathetic meatbag, I understood why you did what you did. However, the fact remains that you tortured and killed Cornie Fizzlesprocket, and I can no longer pretend you didn’t.”

Boxxy did not like where this was going. The shiniest of shinies had never spoken to it so aggressively before, which made it realize something that made it nervous. Back when the gnome abandoned everything she once was, she made a certain oath. She undertook the Pledge of Arms, vowing to support the Hero of Chaos with her whole being under penalty of death. It rendered her incapable of betraying the shapeshifter, which was why it allowed itself to trust her. However, much like its demonic contracts, that promise had probably come undone upon its death. So, should the golem choose to, she could attack Boxxy here and now without fear of divine retribution. The shapeshifter hoped beyond hope it wouldn’t come to that. It would give her a fight if she asked for one, but it really didn’t want to. Not because it was afraid it would lose, but because it was afraid it would win.

“Okay, and what are you going to do about it?” it asked warily.

Fizzy’s stern expression transitioned to mild surprise before settling on disbelief.

“No need to be so defensive,” she rolled her sparkling eyes. “Like I said, I don’t blame you for any of that. If anything, part of me wants to thank you for excising that gnome-shaped tumor. A larger part still yearns for your
attention and adoration. Nobody else can hope to appreciate or understand all that I am as well as you do. So, in light of all that, there is only one thing left for me to do.”

The mithril Paladin paused, took a deep breath to center herself, then uttered three words Boxxy never expected to hear.

“I forgive you.”

“… Okay?”

“I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it’s important to me. The old me, buried deep in my mind. I realized during our time apart that, no matter how hard I tried to ignore her, Cornie was still in there somewhere, rattling in her coffin. That was why I could never have a moment of actual peace and kept running all over looking for some stupid project or the other to keep me busy.”

“And now?”

“Now, I have made peace with her, and I think I can finally find some real happiness by your side, if you’ll have me.”

She smiled. It wasn’t the mad, wide-eyed grin she had in the thick of combat, but a gentle expression of joy that seemed to make her radiant face glow twice as bright. It reminded Boxxy of a much simpler time, back when it was still an ignorant box fumbling its way through society and Fizzy was a naive girl who was just thrilled to have a gifted Artificer student. There was no Keira, or Edward, or Ambrosia, or Goddess of Chance – just a pair of souls immersed in the joy of tinkering. A simpler time, yes, but better?

Hard to say. Nostalgia was a dreadful force. Not that it mattered since neither could go back, but perchance they might recapture that spark.

“Uh, Boxxy? You do want that, right?”

Fizzy’s worried words snapped the monster out of its shiny-induced retrospective.

“Of course!” it eagerly replied. “I would like nothing more!”

“Well, of course,” she puffed her chest out. “It’s not like you can resist my glorious self, but I just wanted to make sure you knew where I stood. You…

did hear what I said, right?”

“Hm? Of course, I did. You wanna be my shiny again, right?”

The golem squinted dubiously at it, then turned her head towards a voice that wasn’t there.

“Good point,” she nodded and looked back to Boxxy. “I’ll be specific. I’m not going to be your servant, your plaything, or your possession. I deserve better.”

Fizzy gave her wrench a flourishing twirl as she raised it up then slammed it onto her shoulder, arcs of blue-tinged lightning crackling across her frame.

“I am the mightiest among Bob’s Champions, Head Paladin of the Order of the Gilded Chest, High Templar of the First Lunar Crusade, and the Liberator of Tascuna. My name is Fizzy Rustblood, the first and last of my lineage, and I demand your respect!”

Ah, so that was what she meant. The proud mithril construct wanted to be by Boxxy’s side in every sense of the word. She wished to be treated as an equal, someone who can make her own judgements, reach her own conclusions, and act on her own decisions. Not just a fanatical follower bound by some divine oath, but a partner in all things. Fizzy demanded Boxxy’s unequivocal, unconditional trust. Frankly speaking, it was an unthinkable request to make of a monster, especially one as devious, treacherous, and paranoid as a doppelganger.

But this wasn’t any old doppelganger. It was the Hero of Chaos, an entity whose current appearance as a wooden chest matched the mentality it had been stubbornly clinging onto despite having outgrown that ridiculous shape many times over. It was clear evidence that, deep down inside, it was still that same colossal moron of a box that walked into Fizzy’s shop all those months ago. It remained a creature driven by its most basic desires, no matter how superficial or ridiculous they were from another’s perspective.

Even if it knew and understood the risks involved, its mind had been made up even before it started tallying them up.

“Alright, I accept.”

“… What, really?” asked Fizzy, her bravado wavering. “Just like that?”

“I still get to stroke, clean, and polish you, yes?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d like that very much, actually.”

“And you will help me crush my enemies?”

“With great gusto!”

“I assume you won’t be stupid enough to expose my Facade.”

“That’s a given. Nobody would believe me anyway.”

“Well, if I only need to treat you as an equal, then I have no objections.”

“You’re actually serious?”

“Fizzy, you literally asked for this.”

“Well… yeah, but… I know you,” she got defensive. “It’s not like you to just agree to something like this. I was fully expecting you to argue and bargain with me to get a better deal.”

“I’ve been through a lot since we last saw each other. As have you, judging by the look and sound of things. Neither of us are as we were.”

“I suppose that’s a fair point, but how do I know whether or not you’re just saying what I want to hear?”

“You don’t. Trust is a two-way street, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

The whole partnership thing might’ve been her idea, but she really wasn’t prepared to get her way this easily.

“Words are cheap, anyway,” added Boxxy. “I say forget that stuff and let actions show our intentions while we figure things out. So, what do you say?”

The sentient chest’s lid opened wide, and a tongue in the shape of an open hand stretched out towards Fizzy.

“Partners?”

The Paladin paused briefly to consult with her inner selves, after which she completely ignored the offered tongue-shake and lunged at Boxxy with arms wide open and a goofy smile on her face.

“Yes!”

The monster suddenly jerked back on reflex, avoiding her embrace as if its life depended on it.

“Hey! What gives?!” she protested.

“Uh, can you tone down the zappy-zaps? Those look like they’d hurt.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, got a little excited.”

Fizzy stood perfectly still for a few seconds as she lowered her body’s electrical output. The crackling arcs of lightning around her disappeared, the glowing cables dimmed until they looked like polished silver, and the violent blue spark in her mechanical eyes died out.

“Better?”

“Much,” the chest nodded… somehow. “Just to be sure, powering down like that isn’t dangerous, is it?”

“It’s fine. I need the electrical charge to move around freely, but it’s not necessary for my survival. Enough about that, let’s just hug it out already!”

The monster had no more complaints, so it hurled itself at its returned shiny and smashed against it like a side of raw beef hitting a cliff. Its shifting flesh coiled around Fizzy as a mess of soggy tentacles that eagerly licked up every nook and cranny of the golem’s new body. It reached between her cables, underneath her plates, and even slobbered up her eyeballs. The Paladin did not complain at this extremely invasive behavior. Just the opposite. She stood there in something approaching bliss as she felt the nearly forgotten sensation of being worshipped like the greatest thing in existence. A huge part was the barely perceptible sensation of being probed by Boxxy’s Mana Locator Gland. The monster truly was exploring every last millimeter of Fizzy’s construction, inside and out.

After about an hour of this borderline lewd ritual that would make Xera burn with jealousy, the golem was left completely spotless. She was shiny before, but having been cleaned and polished so thoroughly made her happier than when she found out Boxxy’s death hadn’t been permanent.

Speaking of which, the two decided it was probably best to catch up. The golem started first. Long story short, she had gotten herself involved in a
war between a bunch of primitive moon-gnomes and the Original Artificer’s otherworldly mechanized army. The conflict was resolved with some divine assistance, but not before Fizzy evolved into something called a dynamo golem. Apparently, it was a variant of ‘war golem,’ a hitherto unknown yet clearly advanced type of mechanical construct. It became evident that Boxxy’s initial observation had been correct – Fizzy had evolved from a violent work of art to a fine-tuned killing machine. Though, as far as the shapeshifter was concerned, the two were practically synonymous.

The upgrade came with a slew of rather unfair abilities. Maxing out her Metal Golem Job gave her Geomagnetic Grip, a Skill that allowed her to remotely manipulate metals around her similarly to what Phytokinesis did with plant matter. Advancing her species had given her two innate abilities

– Static Field and Lightning Affinity. The first was the source of that aggressive electrical current that also partially powered her motor functions.

The golem had demonstrated her ability to lower its output, but she could also increase it to quite lethal levels at the expense of a constant MP drain.

The second racial Skill she obtained completely nullified any lightning-based damage she took while amplifying her own attacks with the element.

After gaining a total of 13 Levels, her War Golem Job allowed her to use Lightning Warp to teleport short distances once every ten seconds.

Alternatively, she could decimate foes from afar with the pseudo-plasma shots of her arm-mounted Magitech Cannon. She had also bolstered her already formidable defense with a chaos-aligned Paladin Skill called Armor of Anarchy. It had a tiny chance of negating any attack made against her and retaliating with an arcane jolt of equal force. There was a limit to how much damage it could reflect in this manner, making it extremely useful against barrages and combination attacks, but rather pointless against huge hits. Boxxy saw it flare up once or twice during her bout with Kora, though Fizzy clearly didn’t need it to handle that giant oaf.

Then there was the second Parallel entity she developed during her adventure on Tascuna, which had been named Minus due to her constant negativity and pessimism. This personality seemed to embody the more aggressive and primal part of Fizzy’s psyche, one that always assumed the worst out of any given situation. In short, she was the polar opposite of Plus in pretty much every sense of the word, though this was hardly to the
golem’s detriment. While they often argued and bickered in her head, it was a constructive type of discourse. The Parallels had also been instrumental in saving Fizzy from an attempt to seize control of her core. They kept her from getting turned into a mindless slave, dragged her broken body to safety, and supported her while she recovered. Boxxy was thankful to Plus and Minus for preserving its priceless shiny’s sense of self, though somewhat disappointed the one responsible had already been dealt with. It didn’t ask exactly what Fizzy did to this ‘Katya’ person, but the box full of creative cruelty would’ve done much worse.

That aside, the golem’s unsanctioned duel with Arms proved that the trio of personalities were a force to be reckoned with whenever they fought as one.

Their teamwork was excellent, and they made full simultaneous use of all of Fizzy’s physical and magical abilities. If Boxxy were completely honest, it was insanely envious of the Paladin. She didn’t have a small army’s worth of Jobs, Skills or Attributes like it did, but everything she had worked extremely well together. Her rare, naturally-powerful race gave her strength and toughness that most Paladins could only dream of, while her faith-derived Spells and Skills rendered her effectively invincible in prolonged engagements. That wasn’t even taking into account the Arclight Artificer Job and all the specialized weaponry she could make for herself.

Apparently, the Artisan-type vocation also gave her access to some special War Golem Skill called Physical Augmentation Module that would allow the golem to transform into new and exciting shapes. Boxxy was as eager to see it in action as Fizzy, but her circumstances at the time made her pass on it in favor of more combat-oriented abilities. She’d get it whenever she achieved Level 15 War Golem, but that would be a while given how slowly the Job grew.

The bottom line was that despite her Status looking nowhere near as impressive as Boxxy’s or Kora’s, she still held her own against the archfiend. If anything, she was slowly wearing the demoness down while her own defenses remained intact. At this point, Boxxy wasn’t sure it could defeat Fizzy as she was. It judged that, should they ever come to blows, its best bet was to put all of its energy into running away. It wasn’t just thinking that because it didn’t want to damage the radiant construct. That was part of it, but aside from its materialistic obsessions, the shapeshifter recognized that it stood very little chance against a finely tuned war
machine that knew most of its tricks, habits, and weaknesses, on top of wielding its Bane.

When the golem finished, it was Boxxy’s turn to explain what had been going on in her absence. It focused on its interactions with the Foundation, starting with its temporary demise and ending with their attempt to capture Snack. The topic moved onto the succubus’s Rank Up into a djinn, followed by Claws evolving into a cold-attuned webstalker with shiny bits of her own. This naturally moved the conversation to its attempts to track Fizzy down across the Kingdom, culminating in the highly profitable assault on that ice-themed dungeon.

Then came the tricky subject of Ambrosia. Though the dryad and the shapeshifter had mostly reconciled, she still felt a certain amount of animosity towards Fizzy. This was partly because she was a golem made of metal, but mostly due to how the two of them had parted ways. Boxxy called the dryad out, and she confirmed that she still felt that way. However, she was willing to tolerate Fizzy’s presence for the sake of her surrogate shapeshifting child’s happiness. She also made it clear she would not allow the ‘animate ornament’ to harm the hylt creeper physically or emotionally.

In a fit of irony, this was also how Ambrosia’s own adoptive mother, the Goddess Nyrie, felt towards the dryad’s questionable relationship with Boxxy.

Interpersonal matters settled, the shapeshifter moved onto more recent events, such as its encounters with the Hero of Death and the Hero of Magic. It briefly touched on Mortimer’s special Quest to wipe out all the Necromancers in the ranks of the Order of the Black Wand. These topics intrigued Fizzy quite a bit. Though she exclusively worshipped Faraday, she was still a Paladin that held the rest of the pantheon in decent enough regard, and she wanted to know if they were doing alright. These were her own opinions, though they could be mistaken for her mimicking her patron’s feelings on the matter.

“Wow. A whole lot happened while I was away, huh?” she mused whimsically. “Guess there really is no rest for the wicked.”

“Tell me about it,” replied Boxxy. “I still haven’t gotten to the worst part, though.”

“The Gilded Hand raid? Yeah, I heard about that when I was crossing the border a few days ago, they really beefed up security since then. Were those idiots actually targeting Keira?”

“No, they were after Nao, the other Hero. I had Snack take over catgirl duty while I stayed behind to protect my investment. However, I made a mistake, and my identity as the Hero of Chaos was exposed by one of the Gilded Hand officers.”

“Huh? You’re sure?”

“An angel got me with a Full Appraisal.”

“… Shit. That’s not good.”

“Tell me about it,” the creature groaned. “Now, I have to constantly look over my shoulder even though I was planning to take it easy for a while.”

“So, what happens now?”

“I’m not sure. It’s probably best if I abandon the Facade and make a new one, but…”

“But you don’t want to give up on it after putting so much work into it.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Keira Morgana was a false identity that had come a very long way since her inception, to the point where she could be considered a separate entity from Boxxy. The doppelganger’s method acting was so good even Nao’s LIAR
was confused. Apparently, the Hero of Magic asked it to reveal Keira’s favorite food out of curiosity. The grimoire asked for the bargain-bin price of 30 GP, after which it revealed the answer was ‘steamed salmon.’ It was absolutely correct, as there was only one ‘Keira Morgana’ in the world, and that was indeed her favorite dish. The mind-boggling thing was that LIAR
seemed to consider the fictional character a separate entity from the ‘actor’

that played her. The shapeshifter knew it was good at bamboozling people, but going so far as to trick an all-knowing Divine item? That was unexpected.

“Wait, that’s right!” Boxxy remembered. “Turns out I had Virgil’s Divine item on me this entire time!”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“… I thought you’d be more excited.”

“Very little surprises me after hearing the shit you’ve been up to since I was gone. I mean, come on, you came back to life and got revenge on your own killer by deciphering the divine script keeping you prisoner? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I suppose you have a point.”

“So, anyway, what is this Divine item and what does it do?”

Boxxy briefly explained all it knew about the once-pink gem while showing it to the golem. Surprisingly enough, Fizzy seemed to realize something when it heard the term ‘instant dungeon.’

“The Atlas of Dreams,” she said, cupping her chin. “I’m pretty sure that’s what the item is called.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. There’s references to an object with those abilities in the lore revealed to me through the Holy Scripture Skill.”

The ability in question did more than simply allow her to use a bunch of Holy Spells. It imparted knowledge of religious rites and texts related to her faith, similarly to how Boxxy’s Demonology made it an expert on Beyond-related lore. As such, Fizzy was able to dredge that name up after cross referencing what her partner said with the divine texts stored in her mind.

She wasn’t a hundred percent certain she had the right relic, but at least

‘Atlas of Dreams’ sounded much more impressive than ‘pink shiny.’

“That aside,” she continued, “I must say that’s a bit disappointing. I mean, instant dungeons? Really? I guess being able to fight monsters on demand has its merits, but that just seems kind of… weak. This is Eleanor we’re talking about. There has to be more to this, some kind of hidden benefit.”

“Oh, there is.”

Boxxy, who had reverted to its preferred treasure chest form, opened its lid.

A pale arm stretched out of it and showed a fist full of strangely orange sand to Fizzy.

“What’s this?” she raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not as important as where it came from. On a hunch, I grabbed it on my way out of the Fun in the Sun instant dungeon.”

“Okay, and?”

“And, it’s still there. Long after the space that created it ceased to be.”

In other words, the gem was able to create something that did not return to the nothing it came from. This completely flew in the face of the ironclad rule that conjured matter was doomed to disappear. People like Nao and Imiryl would do anything to study this phenomenon if they caught wind of it, which was precisely why Boxxy kept quiet. It wanted to monopolize this so-called Atlas of Dreams. Now that it knew what it did, it was looking forward to testing its limits and maximizing its gains. The shapeshifter’s hopes were transparently obvious to a sharp girl like Fizzy.

“Unless I miss my guess, I should be able to find all kinds of new shinies!”

Naturally, the monster said it anyway, prompting the golem to shake her head with a defeated chuckle.

“Heh. Knew it.”

Not that she disapproved. If anything, she was rather relieved to see the creature grow excited at the prospect of expanding its hoard. It served to wash away any lingering doubts that this wasn’t the same Boxxy as the one that died and reinforced the fact that Fizzy was finally home.

“Still, that name is rather curious,” mused the shapeshifter. “I wonder if it has any sort of connection to the Vessel of Dreams.”

“The what?”

“Oh, right. It’s this mithril chest Goroth used to pay me off so I wouldn’t make a mess of that ice dungeon. Been using it as a bed. It’s very comfy.”

“Really?! Mind if I see?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, you’re at least 62% shinier.”

“I am not jealous!”

“Sure you’re not. Well, hop in, and I’ll take you to the treasury.”

Boxxy opened its Storage portal, inviting Fizzy to step inside.

“Do I have to?” she whined.

“It’s faster this way.”

The golem already knew the only way in and out of that place was through the dungeon core’s Nexus Access function, which she could not access. She was equally unable to use Terrain Sculpting to open a direct path. Boxxy couldn’t do either of those so long as Fizzy was around as ‘an intruder.’ So, even though the golem really didn’t want to go in the dark pocket dimension, the practical side of her won out. She let out a breathless sigh and stepped inside, briefly depriving the dungeon of her sparkling visage.

This was rectified a few moments later as she emerged into a room filled nearly to the brim with coins and jewels of all shapes and sizes. She sneered arrogantly at the shiny baubles as her own immaculate radiance made them look like smooth pebbles by comparison. Boxxy seemed to agree, given how it blatantly ogled her while ignoring the rest of its hoard.

The moment was then ruined by a barely perceptible sound.

“… What is that muffled ringing noise?”

Fizzy was the first to notice it, and her question brought it to her partner’s attention.

“That’s a very good question. Hold on.”

Boxxy leaped over to a particularly large pile of lockboxes and coffers in the corner, whereupon it started rummaging through them. It opened one after the other until the aforementioned noise suddenly grew much louder and clearer. The shapeshifter reached inside and pulled out a Comm-crystal it had kept as a souvenir from the war. The palm-sized magic item was pulsing with a blue light in addition to its auditory alert, indicating that someone was trying to contact Boxxy. Or, more specifically, its Sandman persona. The doppelganger glanced at Fizzy questioningly, but all it received in return was a shrug and a befuddled expression that seemed to say, ‘don’t ask me, I just got here.’ It briefly deliberated whether it should answer that call. It wasn’t sure who was holding onto this Comm-crystal’s matching twin, but it was a safe bet to assume it was either the Federal Intelligence Bureau or the Foundation. Whoever it was, they were quite
insistent on having a chat, which did not make Boxxy any more willing to oblige.

Merely the act of answering posed certain risks. It was possible its location could be traced through the link between the two magic items, but was that really so bad? The Sandman was already known to have a personal relationship with dryads, so its presence within one of Azurvale’s twelve ancient trees would not be surprising in the least. Tracing the signal would do little more than confirm which of the hylts held its lair, and that could only happen if it maintained the connection long enough. The risk was minimal, but not zero, and the same could be said of potential profits.

Strangely enough, Boxxy was leaning towards responding. This was partly out of curiosity, but mostly because the monster had the strangest sensation that things would work out now that Fizzy was back and by its side. So, it decided to throw on the Sandman’s disguise and accept the call. It just needed a moment to remember the right sequence of taps and keywords to accept the incoming connection. It failed. It then recalled that it wrote them down and stuck them in with the cube for just such an occasion. Boxxy took a moment to pat its past self on the back for not being an idiot, then retrieved the note and performed the ‘unlock’ sequence. Now fully active, Comm-crystal conjured an illusory, blue-tinted image of a masked elf. The figure was slightly distorted, and Boxxy had only seen it second-hand through Snack’s shapeshifting, but it nevertheless recognized him. It was the leader of the Foundation team that tried to imprison the former succubus and take her hostage. Boxxy put strength into its grip as it prepared to smash the object, unsure why it did such a foolish thing as give them a single moment of its time.

“Hear me, my good fellows, lend me thy ears.”

However, the words that poured out of the figure on the other end gave it pause.

“… For I have left mine in my other trousers?” it answered warily.

“It is good to see you in good health, mister Morningwood. Or do you prefer Sandman?”

The elf removed his mask, revealing a face Boxxy had not seen since the war ended, and with good reason.

“You look good for a dead man, Primus Underwood.”

“I could say the same,” Silus replied.

“Hmpf. Enough chit-chat. What do you want?”

“The same thing I always want, mister Morningwood. To make sure that this Republic of ours, for all its flaws and shortcomings, lasts another year.”

“Speak quickly. You have twenty seconds.”

“To the point, then. The Foundation tried butting heads with you and failed.

Twice. I have since convinced my superiors that cooperation is by far the better option. We are prepared to offer you a deal. Prove to us you can be an ally to the Republic, and we will turn a blind eye to your crimes. Past, present, and future, depending on how valuable an asset you turn out to be.”

Truthfully speaking, Boxxy would very much like for a truce to happen, as it didn’t want to waste its time and energy on these people. Yes, it did die because of the Foundation’s trap, and they did try to enslave it through its familiar, but it got payback for both of those crimes in spades. Plus, getting paid to fight humans during the war was one of the most enjoyable and profitable experiences of its career thus far. It was one of many things that helped turn the shapeshifter into the terrifying creature it currently was, and the elf on the other end of the line made it possible. Its willingness for a ceasefire aside, the shapeshifter was understandably quite skeptical about anything the shady organization said. However, if Silus Underwood was willing to reveal he faked his death, there was a good chance this was a serious offer. It would be foolish to turn him away without at least hearing him out.

“Prove I’m an ally? How do you expect I do that?” it questioned. “I hope you’re not going to ask that I turn myself in.”

“Quite the opposite. We want you to use your terrifying power to bring down what I can only assume is our common enemy.”

Common enemy? thought Boxxy. They couldn’t possibly mean-

“We want your help in eliminating Edward Allen, former Spymaster of the Lodrak Empire.”

[General Information]

Fizzy Rustblood

Dynamo Golem (Mithril), 22 years old

Senior Crafter of Hammers of Horkensaft

Level 60.03 Arclight Artificer

Level 50.00 Paladin (MAX)

Level 50.00 Metal Golem (MAX)

Level 13.81 War Golem

3203/3203 HP (+5.2/sec)

1630/1630 MP (+4.0/sec)

[Attributes]

STR 603, DEX 207, AGI 218, END 520, INT 331, WIS 253, PER 162, FTH 323, LCK 96

[Artificer Skills]

Clockwork Expertise – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Explosives Handling – Lvl 8.55

Deconstruction – Lvl 7.94

Optics Expertise – Lvl 5.08

Physics – Lvl 7.34

Component Forging – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Tick Counter – Lvl 7.78

Upgrade – Lvl 5.45

Electrical Expertise – Lvl 4.25

Electromagnetism – Lvl 1.80

[Paladin Skills]

Champion of Chaos – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Toughness – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Strength of Faith – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Holy Scripture – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Divine Wrath – Lvl 9.60

Bonecrusher War Art – Lvl 7.36

Parallel Plot – Lvl 7.91

Armor of Anarchy – Lvl 4.31

Beacon of Faith – Lvl 2.86

[Metal Golem Skills]

Heavy Metal – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Armored Charge – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Advanced Joints – Lvl 10.00 (MAX)

Magnetize – Lvl 9.56

Engine of Destruction – Lvl 7.55

Shock Absorption – Lvl 5.65

Heat Exchange – Lvl 4.61

Geomagnetic Grip – Lvl 3.53

[War Golem Skills]

Magitech Cannon – Lvl 4.11

Lightning Warp – Lvl 2.41

[Other Skills]

Metallopathy – Lvl 9.78

Lightning Affinity – Lvl 3.03

Static Field – Lvl 3.52

Mentor – Lvl 4.15

Meditation – Lvl 6.51

Dagger Mastery – Lvl 4.06

Shield Mastery – Lvl 12.72

Holy Mastery – Lvl 15.00 (MAX)

Mace Mastery – Lvl 15.00 (MAX)

Brawling Mastery – Lvl 6.62

[Spells and Martial Arts]

Holy Spells – Holy Light, Consecrate, Cleanse, Judgement, Holy Infusion Other Spells – Parallel Zero, Parallel One, Parallel Two Bonecrusher War Arts – Grand Slam, Shield Wall, Heavy Gong, Rebound, Love Tap, Gag Order, Nail Strike

[Perk List]

Divine Beast

Slayer of Humanity

Hunter of Moon Roaches

Instrument of the Gods

Interlude

What Friends Are For

Nao stretched and yawned lazily as he watched Azurvale’s great twelve trees slowly drift away. The morning sun was trying its best to peek through the spotty cloud cover, but only a few stray rays managed to reach the Endeavor’s deck. The airship had been repaired sooner than expected following the damage it suffered in the Gilded Hand’s raid. This allowed the Hero of Magic and his companion to leave slightly ahead of schedule, which the learned wolfkin was glad to take advantage of. Frankly speaking, he was not a fan of the Republic. Not due to any societal or political reasons, but purely because it was too damn cold. As someone who grew up in the city of Emerald – one of the five ‘jewels’ of the Pearly Dunes – he was used to sweltering heat, sandy winds, and constant sunlight. That was basically the polar opposite of winter in these lands, though he heard it still got cloudy and rainy in the warmer seasons. He honestly had no idea how Keira could stand this temperamental weather that couldn’t decide if it was going to be sunny or not. Then again, her mood seemed equally fickle and sporadic, so perhaps the ever-changing sky suited her.

When his thoughts drifted to his new friend and fellow Hero, Nao couldn’t help but feel saddened. She had abruptly disappeared following that field test of her Divine item, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her. It hurt that she wasn’t there to send him off, but it couldn’t be helped. According to her girlfriend, she got an urgent Quest from the Goddess of Change and had to leave on short notice. Given the timing and that flimsy excuse she used at Imiryl’s tower, it was probably related to the Divine item they activated just before. Whatever the case, it was both understandable and unfortunate that Nao couldn’t get a proper goodbye in. He briefly wondered if he should ask LIAR to tell him what she was doing, but decided not to pry into her personal affairs. The book’s temptations were immense, and he had to be careful not to overstep any boundaries.

A pair of purple arms suddenly wrapped around Nao’s shoulders while he was leaning on the flying ship’s railing, and he felt two large yet soft humps press against his back.

“Whatcha doing out here in the cold all by yourself, cutie? Why don’t you come back inside so we can swap body heat?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” he replied with annoyance in his voice. “And I thought I asked you not to speak to me like that.”

“You did, but you didn’t order me,” was the coy reply.

“I’m really not in the mood for your antics right now, Shion. Go away before I have to dismiss you by force.”

“Aww… That’s too bad… Well, if you ever want big sister to teach you some more hip magic, you know where to find me.”

The succubus, whose full name was Shionunsiansial Drianthannuu, peeled herself off of Nao as slowly and sensually as she could. The beastkin heard her high-heeled footsteps trail off and couldn’t help glance at her over his shoulder. The demoness was a shapely beauty with a plump behind and thick thighs, while her breasts were so large he could clearly see them poking out from either side of her narrow back. It was the standard affair for succubi, as were the leathery bat-like wings and slender tail. Her dark purple leather outfit – which consisted of thigh-heel boots, revealing bikini bottom, cleavage-amplifying mini-corset, and decorative bracers – was also within that norm.

Sensing her master’s gaze upon her back, the woman turned her head to smile suggestively at him over her bare shoulders. Her face was as beautiful as one might expect, with glowing blue eyes, long snow-white hair, and black horns that poked out of the sides of her head and curved forward and upward. What set her aside from the rest of her kind were her feline features, namely the triangular ears poking out of her hair, the distinctly catlike irises, and the fuzziness of her tail. She flexed said agile appendage and sensually coiled it around her thigh, subtly drawing Nao’s eyes to her nether region before she disappeared through a door to the lower docks.

Demons, like most living things, were shaped by their environment and lineage. In her case, Shion was spawned from the lewd and improper thoughts of beastkin whose objects of desire were outside their reach due to either physical distance or societal ranks. That was why she had those catgirl-ish features and also why she was a violet variant of succubus, which was presumably named for her opulent skin tone. This subcategory
of sinful seductresses had a natural predisposition towards spatial manipulation magic, evidenced by their innate Void Slip Skill. It was a unique ability that allowed them to fade out of existence, effectively rendering them immobile, invulnerable, and invisible for a few seconds.

Shion was also a Wizard with centuries of experience bending the fabric of space to her will. In some ways, one could say she was the perfect research assistant for Nao, which was no mere coincidence given the chaos-enriched circumstances surrounding her contract.

However, the demon’s magical talents had nothing to do with her appointment as the Hero of Magic’s second familiar. They were a nice surprise, but Nao only got her as part of a self-admitted inability to overcome his fear of women. Keira’s counsel regarding that condition had given him the idea that, if he were to face his insecurities on a daily basis, he would be able to overcome them on his own. Incidentally, the catgirl also convinced him he should make better use of his ability to contract additional familiars. The last deciding factor was the sudden realization he’d have to deal with Imiryl’s man-starved employees again.

It was these key points that led to Nao and Shion forming a bond as master and minion. Though objectively a terrible idea, it had worked out for the best. That succubus was a perfect representative of the type of women the Hero of Magic dreaded the most. That made her an ideal social sparring partner, which was why she was allowed free roam of the ship. Her master imposed certain restrictions, of course. Nao was the only one she was allowed to interact and flirt with. His goal was to learn to handle aggressive women, not to have a bunch of strangers ‘take turns riding her like a communal meat wagon,’ as the succubus put it. The naive Hero’s initial plan did not involve any bedroom relations whatsoever, but things had escalated a lot quicker than he anticipated.

Naturally, being a red-blooded male, he tremendously enjoyed his first experience. He liked it so much that it was impossible to do it just once. He hated to admit it, but Shion was already living rent-free inside his head.

Memories of her ‘hip magic’ would often resurface when he wasn’t busy and let his mind wander. Oddly enough, that didn’t seem to happen when he was thinking of Keira. Why was that, he wondered? Probably something to do with that passionate yet creative swearing fit she had when she found out about his ‘special training.’ It was either that or the blunt manner in which
she rejected his misguided affections. Or, maybe it was just Keira being Keira. He didn’t even see her as a cute girl anymore. She was more like…

that weird auntie down the street that used to let Nao hide in her shed whenever the bullies grew relentless. He chuckled when he pictured the redhead in the old woman’s clothes then winced as the imaginary Hero pulled a knife on him for having rude thoughts.

It would appear both Shion and Keira lived rent-free in his head.

Thankfully, they didn’t like to share. At least, not until Nao had a certain realization. He remembered that the redhead liked ‘really girly girls,’ as Kuro put it, and that succubus practically radiated feminine appeal with every movement. The guy’s overactive imagination seized upon the fleeting thought that Shion might be Keira’s type, and thus immediately destroyed any mental safe space the Hero of Chaos afforded him.

“Damn it, it’s all her fault,” he cursed under his breath. “How can one woman be so damn pretty?”

Though Nao wasn’t aware, a pair of professional voyeurs overheard his comment.

“Hey, Twitchy. Which one do you think he’s talking about?”

“Honestly, I’m not too sure. Both of those kids are good at toying with innocent hearts like his.”

Lunar, the Goddess of Magic and Learning, and Gizelle, the God of Rock-Paper-Scissors, were currently observing the young Hero from the Aether.

Unlike the last time these two deities got together, they weren’t in Philippe’s divine area but Lunar’s. It had the appearance of a massive library with no end in sight, just rows upon rows upon rows of shelves filled with books. It was impossible to tell if this place had a ceiling since the oil lamps scattered around the place did not cast enough light to illuminate the darkness overhead.

The Goddess of Magic was in her usual appearance of a wrinkled granny wearing a robe that appeared to have been sewn out of a star-filled night sky. She was laying on the ground with her back against the fluffy checkered carpet. Miguel was next to her, though his resting position was difficult to decipher since his current form was that of a vaguely humanoid shaped-pile of pencils, inkwells, quills, and other stationary. Both deities
were looking up at a massive floating wooden frame currently relaying the sights and sounds of Nao in real time.

“You’re absolutely sure that harlot won’t kill the boy?” Lunar inquired.

“She’s no more likely to do that now than the last nineteen times you asked me.”

“Well, maybe I’d stop asking if you told me why you’re so damned sure.”

“Can’t you just take my word for it? I was right about Boxxy, wasn’t I?”

Indeed, the only reason Lunar allowed her current Hero anywhere near a murderous shapeshifter with that much blood on its hands was because of Kyle’s reassurances. The deity had a firm grasp on Boxxy’s pragmatic personality and knew the monster would recognize the benefits of getting in Nao’s good graces. It would surely do so as Keira, who had a thoughtful, cheerful, and down-to-earth personality that could make friends with anyone, so long as she didn’t have reason to pull a knife on them.

Regardless of their turbulent first meeting, and despite being a fictional character, she had proven herself a good influence on the socially awkward wolfkin.

That was the ultimate goal of this proxy play-date between Lunar and Makansapalapalous. Nao’s various encounters and interactions with Keira had steered him away from a dark path. He was more willing to engage with others rather than crawling inside his shell like some sort of misanthrope. Without that subtle intervention, the Hero of Magic would have most likely ended up shutting himself away in some musty study in the decades to come, completely isolating himself from society. It was actually quite common to hear stories of some genius locking themselves away in a tower so they could focus on their research. While such individuals could learn much about their chosen field, it would be pointless without someone to inherit their work. The act of accumulating knowledge was an inherently cooperative process. No matter how gifted any single person was, they were all born completely ignorant of the world they lived in. The preservation of knowledge from previous generations was paramount to the continued existence and progress of civilization. The ability to use the wisdom of one’s peers and ancestors as a foundation to reach new heights was a major part of what separated the enlightened from
the monsters. This trait was so crucial even the term ‘enlightened’ stemmed from it.

However, none of that would be possible if the brightest minds of a generation selfishly hoarded their discoveries. The great elven sage Tol-Saroth was a prime example. He had created many wonders during his lifetime, but the discoveries he used to fashion them had disappeared with his death. If he had been less secretive about his work, a lot more of his legacy would have survived intact. Instead, only fragments of his brilliant mind remained, most of them monopolized by a sect of people with questionable methods and little intention of sharing. So much knowledge had been lost due to the pettiness of mortals with too much power and not enough foresight, and yet more stood to disappear. This thought saddened Lunar greatly. She wanted to avoid that dreadful scenario repeating itself, which was why she disapproved of her Heroes shutting themselves off from the rest of the world or using their gifts for completely selfish gains.

The Goddess was therefore quite happy with how Nao turned out. The young scholar now understood the value of collaboration with another, evidenced by how he was able to create his first Artifact. Short lived as it may have been, it was a monumental personal achievement that taught him talent must be tempered by wisdom and patience. Combined with his decreasing fear of women, he was far less likely to become some mad hermit with no morals. Admittedly, there was a chance entering a romantic relationship would distract him from his studies, but Lunar preferred that to the alternative. Long story short, the Goddess of Magic and Learning greatly appreciated Twitchy’s Hero pushing him in what she considered the right direction. It also saved him from being taken by those despicable Gilded Hand people. Boxxy’s motives may have been rotten and self-serving, but Lunar couldn’t complain about its results.

However, her stance on that creature had little to do with her current worries.

“Look Twitchy, I was willing to give your monster a pass because I’ve seen how crafty it can be. It learns as quickly as the sky is blue, and I can respect that. But, I know what demons are like. Their immortality makes them feel like they can get away with anything. They respect neither life nor authority, so unless you can give me a solid reason why that succubus
should stay, I’m going to have to step in and make Nao terminate that contract for his own good.”

“Alright, fiiiiine,” Charlie groaned and threw his pencils in the air. “The reason I know that succubus won’t kill him was because I had a hand in setting her up to be his familiar.”

“Wait, you did? I thought you hated interfering since it made things predictable and boring.”

“Yeah, but this doesn’t concern just me. You came to me for reassurance that no harm would come to your Hero if he should visit mine. And me, being a good friend, did my part to make sure that didn’t happen.”

Vincent’s words sounded benevolent enough, but Lunar had known this capricious deity far too long to take anything he said or did at face value.

“Did your part… how?”

“Ah. Well, you see, I have a list of, shall we say, promising individuals I keep track of. Deviants, oddballs, lunatics, that sort of thing. And that lovely creature I chose for Nao is on it. Now, I know what you’re thinking –

‘Twitchy, how is knowing she’s a weirdo supposed to calm me down?’ I hear you. Perfectly valid point, which I shall gladly address if you just…

give me a second.”

Blurplenurple snapped his notepads, causing a deck of cards to appear above him. He reached up with his cardboard knives and began flipping through its bricks.

“Let’s see… Ah, here we are! Shionunsiansial Drianthannuu. Noted for having an unnatural obsession with innocent young boys woefully inexperienced with women. She likes embarrassing, humiliating, and toying with them for her own enjoyment. She’s also especially partial to beastkin due to being born of their desires. That makes Nao her favorite type down to the v.”

“I fail to see how that’s supposed to reassure me.”

“Then perhaps you should consider that it’s exceedingly rare to find those qualities amongst Warlocks, especially the ones that would contract a succubus. In other words, Shion has never had a ‘toy’ as perfect as Nao, and
she knows she probably won’t get another one. She’ll be careful not to

‘break’ him since she can’t get her kicks from a corpse.”

“Uh-huh… Okay…” she slowly nodded. “That’s… good, I guess?”

“But wait, there’s more! Shion has also been trying really hard to Rank Up over the past, oh, hundred years or so, and she knows for a fact Nao has discovered a method to make that happen. Well, the entire Beyond likely knows since they saw his pet gazer on the Boxxy Show, but that’s beside the point. Given her personality, it’s pretty much certain she will be trying to use him ascend to a higher state of being on top of satisfying her peculiar desires. Those are two very good reasons for her to become emotionally invested in your Hero’s continued wellbeing. She’ll abstain from lethal levels of intercourse and look out for him outside her contractual obligations. And, as time goes on… who knows?”

“Wait, you’re using my Hero to play matchmaker?”

“Kind of. A little bit.”

“But why though?”

“I was curious,” the God of Instability shrugged. “Call it an experiment in demonic psychology.”

Witnessing Xera’s infatuation with Boxxy made Rico wonder if such a relationship between mortal and immortal could be replicated. The shapeshifter had conquered her nonexistent heart by catering to her carnal cravings, which was also a deciding factor in her Rank Up. Nao was in a similar position to satisfy Shion, both in terms of sadistic kinks and her desire for power. The ingredients were there. Whether they produced cake or crap remained to be seen.

“Heh. An experiment, huh?” Lunar chuckled. “Think it’ll work out? No, don’t tell, me, there’s a ‘non-zero chance’ of that happening, right?”

“Better than that, I’d say. Just look at what’s going on over there in the doorway.”

Billy pointed towards the floating frame. It still showed Nao staring at the horizon while struggling to hide an erection that refused to go away. The aforementioned doorway was the entrance to the passenger cabins further
behind him, the same one the succubus had gone through after their earlier

‘conversation.’ Curious as to what exactly her fellow deity was talking about, Lunar manipulated the viewpoint to get a better look at it. Though the solid wooden door appeared closed at first glance, a closer inspection revealed it was ever so slightly ajar. A bright blue feline eye was peeking through the gap, its gaze locked firmly onto Nao’s back. It was undoubtedly Shion, and she was definitely up to something, but Lunar couldn’t tell what since this method of observation was limited to her Hero’s immediate vicinity.

Overcome with curiosity, the Goddess used a tiny bit of her divine power to shift her view to the other side of that door. Only then did she realize the succubus in question was breathing heavily while expertly rubbing the damp area between her legs with one hand and fondling her breast with the other. She even let out a low moan when a passing crewmember asked Nao how he was doing, but the Hero was too embarrassed by his lack of boner control to respond properly.

“Is she…”

“Yup,” Joshua confirmed.

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

“Alright, think I’ve seen enough.”

“I haven’t. It’s not every day you see a succubus pleasuring herself.”

“Too bad. This is my realm, and what I say goes.”

“Spoilsport.”

Lunar cut off the lewd broadcast and rose to her feet, which prompted her guest to stand, too.

“Well, guess I should be leaving,” Cindy merrily stated. “Thanks for having me over, Looney.”

“I should be the one thanking you for everything you did and didn’t do to Nao. I may be doting a bit too much on him, but that’s because I worry.

He’s a really good kid.”

“That’s perfectly fine, I think. Heroes are the only ones we get to dote on.

Just so long as we don’t overdo it like a certain blonde moron.”

“You’re still salty about Teresa pulling a fast revival on you?”

“Just a little. I’ll feel better once Boxxy finishes cleaning up that mess.

Should be pretty soon by my calculations.”

“You think Axel will be fine with that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t one of his angels part of that Gilded Hand bunch? He probably won’t care for losing her, especially to a monster.”

“Maybe, but I honestly don’t give a crap. That stick-in-the-mud can send his Hero after mine for all I care.”

To put it mildly, The God of War and Combat and the God of Randomness and Soup were not on the best of terms. To put it honestly, they hated each other’s guts. The former despised monsters with his entire being while the latter kept using them as followers and Heroes without reservations. One valued solid strategy, discipline, and honor while the other thrived on the confusion caused by unexpected occurrences. Therein lay Robert’s biggest issue with Axel. The latter was extremely straight-laced and by the book, which made him entirely too predictable. That was how Joe knew for a fact the God of War wouldn’t actually interfere with another deity’s Hero. It just wasn’t in his personality to do that. The pantheon had a silent agreement amongst themselves to never intentionally sabotage or eliminate each other’s chosen mortals, and Axel’s sense of duty and honor would not allow him to violate it even tacitly. Well, he theoretically could, but the odds were so astronomically low that it would still be a ‘win’ for the God of Inevitability.

And, if there was one thing Axel hated more than monsters, it was losing to a clown like Claude.

“He and I are like arrows and eyeballs, we just don’t mix,” said the Goddess of Luck. “And I doubt that will ever change. I can’t just get along with everyone like you do, Looney.”

“I wouldn’t say I ‘get along with everyone’ though,” Lunar crossed her arms. “Zephyra is always butting heads with me about the overuse of magic upsetting the ecosystem. Never mind the fact that magic can just as easily repair and sustain the natural order. It’s like, she really should be upset with the people, not the tools they misuse, y’know?”

“I hear you, but my point is she still listens to you and respects your opinion, even if you disagree on this one thing. And everyone else practically loves you since, unless I’m mistaken, you’ve helped pretty much all of them with their Divine item projects.”

“This is true, but that’s standard practice, isn’t it?”

“It’s only standard because you keep doing it.”

“Well, they keep asking me.”

“Yet, the only one who requested my help with a D.I. was you, and I know for a fact it wasn’t because of my winning personality.”

“Just because nobody else could do it doesn’t mean I don’t respect the great job you did. My only complaint is that you talked me into giving it a name with an ironic acronym.”

“I’d say it’s your own fault for not recognizing it as such until it was too late to change it.”

The Librarium Infinitus Arcana Refactorium was not, in fact, a repository of all of the world’s knowledge. Much as Keira stated when she was introduced to the grimoire, not even the gods were omniscient, so how could one of their creations be? The LIAR’s actual function was to use incomprehensibly advanced scrying magic to look up the answers for questions, or ‘queries,’ on the spot. Though it was presented as an impossibly extensive library, it was more accurate to think of it as the world’s most efficient detective. That was only made possible because Wertham imbued it with his talent for gathering and analyzing information.

One had to consider a nearly incalculable amount of variables in order to read the flows of chaos, and Miguel was r eally good with numbers. He could easily do what the LIAR did in 99% of cases, though that did require him to expend some of his rather limited divine power. The devotion of an entire realm of demons and a handful of mortal weirdos was more than
enough to sustain his low-key activities, but outright miracles took a lot out of him. Just arranging a face-to-face meeting with Boxxy, for example, took a few years’ worth of faith juice out of him. Lunar was in the same boat, though her popularity meant her reserves filled significantly faster.

It was therefore inevitable that LIAR, as their creation, had the same drawback. That was why it demanded ‘payment’ in order to perform its function. Something of relevance to the query at hand be given up if the grimoire was to pull the right strings necessary to dredge up the requested information. It was the same with Bobby’s own Divine-ranked bauble, the Atlas of Dreams. He probably could’ve forged it entirely on his own, but he needed Lunar’s power in order to give it that ‘perma-conjure’ trait that Boxxy was salivating over. That and the Goddess was instrumental in making sure a stone that small could handle the vast amount of energy its primary function required. Without her magic touch, there was a chance that pink gem might’ve just detonated on the spot exactly like Boxxy feared it would. It would have been practically an inevitability if Marmaduke had constructed the Atlas by himself.

“Huh. Hey, Twitchy?”

“Mmmnnyeees?”

“What became of your original Divine item? You know, the one that had something to do with… cutlery, I think?”

“Oh? Oh yeah, that old thing! Dunno, I mostly gave up on it when the Atlas was done. Now that I think about it, I sent one of my more, uh, zealous followers to find the pieces of it awhile back.”

“Why are you saying ‘zealous’ like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because the guy was insufferable. I’d get like fifty prayers a day asking me for guidance or whatever. Over super trivial stuff, too. Like what he wanted to eat for breakfast, or whether he should wipe his ass or not. I mean, come on! Have at least a little personal responsibility!”

It was inevitable that a follower selection process based on random occurrences would occasionally produce certain undesirables.

“So, you sent him on a mission to recover your old relic because you wanted him to shut up?”

“Yup! Told him he was only to contact me if he finished the Quest I gave him, that it was a test of his faith and devotion. Naturally, I gave him no information other than the name of the parts, so he’ll be searching for ‘em for a long, long time. It was a bit of a dick move, but it certainly got him to stop cluttering my prayer feed.”

Usain was the type of deity that paid attention to every single prayer, offering, and wish he received. His fellow gods used aggregators or played favorites with their Priests, Paladins, and Monks, but the God of Uncertainty wasn’t like that. He treated those messages like an information feed, so having one guy filling it up with useless trivia was less than ideal.

“What if he actually succeeds, though?” Lunar pointed out.

“To be fair, if he manages to pull it off, he’s earned my attention.”

“Yeah, but that’s if he does it by himself. The faithful have a habit of flocking around their Hero, and yours has become rather famous of late.

Won’t this zealot seek yours out?”

“Huh. I never considered that.”

“Oh? Getting negligent in your old age, are you?”

“Har, har, har. No, I actually sent him off years ago, back when I had only just fired my last Hero and wasn’t even planning to get a new one. I had put that event so completely out of my mind that I only remembered it when you brought that matter up. But now that you did… Hmm…”

Terrence closed his pens and started running the numbers. The odds of that noisy fellow approaching the active Hero of Chaos with a plea for help were so high it was practically guaranteed. There was also no way Boxxy would pass up the opportunity to snag another Divine item for its collection.

The biggest problem, however, was the fact that even if they were technically decommissioned, the set pieces were still designed to draw the Hero of Chaos towards them. It was sort of the opposite effect of the homing function the Atlas of Dreams used. Though the prototype was depowered and unreliable, its probability-altering properties would surely help guide Boxxy to it once the greedy box started looking for those pieces.

“This is bad,” he declared with a worried tone.

“They’re gonna find all the bits, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. It’s far more likely than not.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I honestly don’t know. That thing was kinda nasty, especially for a Divine item. The last thing I want is for Boxxy to find it, because it will definitely try to use it. Nobody’s gonna walk away from that happy.”

“You could ask the box not to look for it.”

“That’s only going to make it want the thing more, though. Trust me, it’ll only provoke its curiosity.”

“I suppose explaining the situation is out of the question?”

“Telling my Hero of my dark past would kind of defeat the purpose of not wanting it to find out about it, so I’d rather not.”

The two Gods crossed their arms and racked their brains, but couldn’t find a good solution.

“I’d say you’re in a pickle, Twitchy. Either you compromise your beliefs or let things play out, then deal with the consequences.”

“Grnnn, guess I’ll have to go with the latter. At least, it’ll be quite a while before any of that happens. It’ll give a chance for Boxxy to grow older, wiser, and more mature. Hopefully, that will be enough.”

“So, you’re just going to hope it will realize it shouldn’t be playing with suspicious relics of a bygone age?”

“No,” Gilbert shook his inkwell. “I’m going to hope it will be able to forgive me.”

Chapter Five

Mind Games

Part One

A blizzard swept across the countryside. The air was thick with so much snowfall one might think they could swim in it. The howling sideways wind ensured that the copious white powder did not remain on the ground for long, kicking up blinding swirls that threatened to bury any poor soul unfortunate enough to be caught in it. Yet, two figures braved this unforgiving weather, seemingly unperturbed by the ungodly amounts of snow and total lack of visibility. The fact that the pair hadn’t gotten completely lost seemed nothing short of miraculous, though it wasn’t divine providence that guided them. The traveler in front was a man wrapped toe-to-tip in insulated clothing that seemed to repel the biting wind and deluge of snow. In one hand, he held a compact compass, its enchanted needle pointing towards a specific location. It was a reliable-yet-delicate piece of equipment that would surely have flown out of his grasp were it not for the specialized protection offered by his gear.

This was the level of preparedness one had to have in order to walk the Ishigar Republic’s wilderness at the height of winter. Thankfully, the worst the season had to offer was limited to specific areas and regions due to various mana currents that either caused or prevented this sort of disastrous weather. This naturally funneled the populace to settlements that didn’t need to worry about these abominable blizzards. Conversely, that was also why huge swathes of Republic territory were deemed uninhabitable. These areas were perfectly livable from spring through autumn, but nobody in their right mind would build a house doomed to become an iceberg at the turn of the new year. There was, of course, a small handful of weirdos who chose to make a home in these areas anyway. These people deemed the solitude was worth the moderate fortune they’d have to pay to shield their homestead from blizzard season. Either that or they took hints from nature and temporarily moved south for the winter.

There was one other type of person who dwelled in these treacherous regions – those without a choice. The two travelers cutting a path through that blizzard numbered among these unfortunate souls. The man in front was following orders he didn’t like even though they were basically his idea. The woman behind was in a similar situation, although her
instructions came from a different source. One would think they worked together given their matching winter-repellant clothing, but that was assuredly not the case. If anything, they were enemies, for the guide in front was a Foundation agent, and the one following was Boxxy’s first familiar.

Xera particularly despised this assignment for several selfish reasons. For instance, she had to shrink her obscene bust and generous rump in order to fit into this stuffy gear. It wasn’t physically uncomfortable, but it felt wrong. Her biggest complaint was that she wasn’t getting used as a portal heater like the time she and her master first arrived in Dragunov.

Unfortunately, repeating that ‘exchange of energy’ would also defeat the purpose of her being out here in the first place. Much as before, the perverted creature’s purpose was to serve as Boxxy’s eyes and ears while the shapeshifter was as far away from her as chestily possible. She completely understood and supported her master’s caution from a logical standpoint, but her twisted heart was saddened whenever she missed an opportunity to have her holes stretched.

Incidentally, this frustration practically radiated from the hopeless slut, which only made her guide all the more uncomfortable. As if it wasn’t stressful enough to have only a thin veil of magic keeping him from becoming an elfcicle, the agent also had to deal with the djinn’s infectious horniness. Thankfully, after what felt like hours of wading through it, the blizzard finally began to let up. The man was relieved to see the sky again, ominously cloudy though it was. The howling wind persisted and continued to kick up loose bits of snow, but the whiteout had stopped and visibility greatly improved. This allowed the pair to lay eyes on their destination – a deep ravine that cleaved through the side of an ice-covered mountain surrounded by equally frozen plains. A few stubborn hylt trees could be seen here and there in the heights and poking up from the horizon, but, aside from those, the entire region appeared completely desolate.

As Xera approached the crevice, she spotted the first signs of civilization since this snow-hiking trip started. A stone edifice was built into the enormous chasm’s sheer rock walls. At a glance, it was closer to a spike-covered burrow than a castle or keep. It was also inaccessible by foot unless one was stupid enough to risk climbing down the slippery cliff. Even flying down there would prove difficult given the turbulent air current that ran through the ravine. In fact, that unceasing, violent wind was what initially
carved out that gash in the mountain. Its source was a ‘knot’ of wild magic where multiple ley lines converged somewhere deep beneath the mountain.

This phenomenon had a number of effects on the surrounding wilderness, the abnormal blizzards a prime example. At least those were exclusive to the winter season, but the river of chopping air screaming through the chasm was a year-round inconvenience that made Xera question how anyone would think to make a base here.

“This the place, huh? Looks positively depressing.”

The djinn pulled down her face mask as she spoke, exposing her face to the stinging cold air.

“I would certainly hope so.”

Her guide followed suit, revealing himself as Silus Underwood.

“Wouldn’t be much of a prison if it was a leisurely resort, would it?” he added.

“A prison? I thought it was a mine.”

Not just any mine, either. Its proximity to the aforementioned ‘knot’ made this hole-in-the-wall a major source of mithril and magical gemstones for the Republic. It was one of, if not the most, profitable government-owned facilities on the entire continent. It was located in the country’s western reaches, immediately north of the Clattering Plains where Fort Yimin resided. It was deemed such an indispensable resource that the Republic was willing to throw away the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers and conscripts just to keep it out of the Empire’s hands.

“Bitterhold is both,” the elf explained. “It’s where the government sends our worst, most irredeemable criminals. The kind whose debt to society is deemed far too steep for Mortimer to bail them out.”

“So, instead of executing them, you put them to hard labor. Master approves, but is curious about what happens when they escape.”

“They don’t. Bitterhold has had zero breaches since its inception seventy years ago. Once a prisoner enters this place, they never leave. Not even as a corpse.”

“My, aren’t you people thorough,” Xera sneered, voice oozing with sarcasm. “Master is unsure how this is supposed to convince us that your offer is genuine.”

If Boxxy and the Foundation were to team up in order to bring down the shapeshifter’s oldest nemesis, the shapeshifter needed to know they were capable of working with a monster. Not by enslaving them with weird chemicals or otherwise coercing them, but through actual cooperation. That was supposedly what the clandestine organization hoped to prove when they had Silus bring Xera here, but neither the djinn nor her master were impressed. If anything, bringing the demoness to a supposedly unescapable prison was having the opposite effect.

“You’ll see soon enough. They’re expecting us. Our ride should be here shortly.”

Xera rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and waited. A minute later, she heard sounds of scraping stone coming from the ravine, just barely audible over the howling wind. She didn’t get the chance to ask what that was before a duo of massive lizards climbed over the ledge. Each was easily twice the size of a horse with six clawed legs along the lengths of their flexible, snake-like bodies. Their overall appearance was quite similar to giant geckos with an extra set of limbs and a quartet of stubby horns poking out of the sides of their scalps.

“These creatures are called slecs,” Silus explained. “They’re domesticated monsters that ferry goods and people in and out of Bitterhold.”

That would certainly explain the strange saddles strapped to them and why they didn’t show even the slightest hint of aggression. In fact, though their size was intimidating, they didn’t seem built for combat at all. Their bright green scales looked way too soft to fend off blows, and the claws on their feet seemed to be used more for climbing than ripping people to shreds.

They had toothed mouths, of course, but those were filled with the molars of herbivores, not the fangs of predators. It was hard to imagine how such

‘soft’ creatures would survive long in the wild, especially given how big they were, though looks could definitely be deceiving. It was entirely possible their kind was one of the rare species that wielded powerful innate magic instead of relying on absurd strength, speed, and durability.

“Before you ask, these are not the examples of cooperation you’re here to see,” the agent added. “They are waiting for us inside. Come, let us ride.”

“Oh, my!” Xera cooed. “I had no idea you felt like that, mister Underwood.”

“… Can you please just get on the stupid lizard?”

Boxxy echoed that sentiment, albeit less politely. The two guests mounted a slec each, and the creatures expertly descended the sheer cliffs. Their gift for magic was instantly revealed as gravity around them went sideways.

They weren’t climbing the rocks so much as running across, the altered direction of their weight keeping them ‘grounded’ despite the violent winds.

Xera was confident she could’ve floated down on her own anyway, but Silus advised her not to. She understood why as she approached the fortified edifice. Two rows of magically-shielded, golem-operated ballistae rested above and below Bitterhold’s ramparts. There were eight in total, and there was no doubt that their enchanted ammunition would demolish any person or creature stupid enough to approach unauthorized. The prison likely had the usual suite of defensive magical wards that prevented teleportation, scrying, invisibility, and the like. For all intents and purposes, those tamed slecs were the only way in or out.

The visitors arrived at the main platform that led to the prison’s sole entrance. Xera and Silus dismounted the docile lizards and were escorted further inside by a silently smiling guard in a plain dark-green uniform. The main hall was an enormous cavern hewn out of the cliff face over decades of forced labor. Several plain-looking buildings were strewn across the flattened floor. Foot traffic was directed and restricted by a series of signs and fences, though the wooden posts were so basic only gnomes would struggle to hop over them. The far wall was dotted with dozens of shafts that burrowed deep into the rock at various angles and elevation. All these tunnels were connected with an elaborate railway system that allowed mining carts to ferry goods into a central depot helpfully marked as

‘Storage & Sorting.’ A group of roughly ten slecs were lazing around a large bonfire next to the facility. The pair that Xera and Silus arrived on were gingerly gliding along the cavern walls to join their brood. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the lizards’ innate gravity magic also helped them ferry immensely heavy cargo that would normally be beyond their ability to lift.

This was all easily visible, as the space was as brightly lit as a cavern of this size could feasibly get. This was achieved primarily through two types of light sources. The first was a group of haphazardly scattered torch posts that burned with flames as white as the snow outside. Their coverage was spotty at best, leaving significant portions of the prison plunged in near-total darkness. That issue was resolved by an array of powerful lamps atop wooden guard towers, with at least four on each of the twelve vantage points. These searchlights constantly swept the area with near-blinding beams of light that seemed to track any guards or personnel going about their duties. Taken as a whole, Bitterhold looked exactly like one might imagine given its two-fold purpose as prison and mine. At a glance, the only thing that seemed out of place was the unusually normal house right near the center of its main yard, nestled between barracks, kitchens, and cell blocks.

As Xera and Silus were guided deeper, the djinn couldn’t help but notice another oddity. The mood in the air was… strange. Neither guards nor prisoners seemed to notice her presence. While it was true her winter clothing heavily obscured her sensual curves, they were still rather apparent. Not to mention that her cerulean skin, alluring face, obscenely long hair, and glittering crown-like horns were on full display. One would think she’d be a sight for sore eyes to a bunch of inmates that, in all likelihood, hadn’t seen a woman as gorgeous as her in decades, if ever.

They were greedy deviants by their very nature, yet none so much as glanced her way. Or Silus’s, for that matter. It was as if the visitors were completely invisible to everyone except the guard guiding them, even other security personnel.

The overwhelming lack of attention prompted Xera to have a closer look at the condemned scumbags. They were a random mix of races, ages, and genders, though the majority were burly middle-aged men. Their prisoner attire had the classic black-and-white horizontal stripes, though the rough fabric was understandably stained and tattered from all the hard labor. Their headwear was similarly uniform, consisting of a matching wide cap, cleanly shaven scalp, and a pair of safety goggles with large circular lenses. They also had thick work gloves, heavy boots, and other basic pieces of protective equipment. Bitterhold’s purpose wasn’t to work them to death, but only nearly. Again, much like the prison itself, this seemed perfectly
normal and reasonable at a glance, but, upon closer inspection, the djinn spotted another anomaly.

The prisoners were smiling. Each and every last inmate, despite clearly being forced to toil without end under harsh conditions, had a big, toothy grin on their faces. Though Xera could not see their eyes through the glowing reflections of their goggles, she knew for a fact they all had the same hazy, blissed-out look as the guard guiding her through the compound.

It was hardly a tremendous leap of logic considering the guards had the same expression, complete with giddy smiles. There also weren’t a whole lot of them, now that she thought about it. The ratio of inmates to security personnel appeared to be somewhere around fifteen to one. Now, Xera was no expert on prison management, and neither was Boxxy, but they agreed that this seemed horribly irresponsible. Especially since none of the prisoners were shackled in the slightest. Furthermore, judging by the enormous loads some of them were lugging around, they also hadn’t been depowered by having their Jobs forcibly removed by the government.

This measure of freedom was something the shapeshifter could see as reasonable. As a connoisseur of all things shiny, it knew that mining mithril was no easy task. The precious metal was only found in areas heavy with natural magics and Bitterhold’s proximity to a ‘knot’ of ley lines practically guaranteed the rare material’s relative abundance. However, those same ambient energies also formed volatile pockets that made digging for mithril a dangerous and unpredictable affair. Every time a miner struck the rock, they ran the risk of triggering a random magical discharge that would envelop them in a burst of fire, lightning, shrapnel, or any number of other hazards. Toxic gas deposits, subterranean monsters, and cave-ins caused by sudden tectonic shifts were also common issues. Last but not least, once the mithril ore was found it still required strength, precision, and enchanted equipment to get it out of the ground in manageable chunks.

In short, mining for mithril was a task better suited to adventurers than laborers, and bandits were basically adventurers with a looser sense of ethics. It therefore made sense that Bitterhold’s inmates were allowed full use of their limbs and Skills. There would be little point to maintaining this facility if it couldn’t actually excavate the precious ore at a reasonable pace.

However, logic dictated that security had to be incredibly strict so as to keep the violent criminals from rioting. One guard per fifteen inmates
wasn’t just insufficient – it was negligent. How has this place not allowed a single escapee since its inception? The only way that could be was if those condemned to labor here didn’t actually want to leave, and that, in turn, was impossible unless some heavy brainwashing was at play. Which, given the epidemic of smiles, was practically a foregone conclusion.

Boxxy questioned why the Foundation wanted it to see all this since it wasn’t exactly reinforcing their claims that they didn’t need to resort to such means when dealing with monsters. They surely knew that, which meant there was probably something else to Bitterhold that they thought would sway the creature. Therefore, it decided to have its familiar continue to play along.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?”

Silus spoke to Xera as they approached the big house in the main yard, prompting the succubus to switch mental tracks from analysis to cynicism.

“Oh, absolutely,” she cheerfully replied. “I must say your rehabilitation methods are spot on. What’s your secret? Wait, let me guess. Is it… a communal hot tub? Oh, I know! Weekly orgies with the guards!”

“How very glib.”

“Just trying to fit in, sweetie.”

“Quite. Well, as you’ve no doubt guessed, every prisoner here is kept in line through mental restraints rather than physical.”

“No, really?!” she dialed up the sarcasm. “You mean it isn’t normal for ruthless criminals to happily perform hazardous, physically-intensive labor for no pay without trying to overpower the bare-bones security? And here I thought they’d just grown to like this dark, gloomy place whose very name sounds depressing! I’m sure my Master will leap at the chance to join the festivities! Right after it rips out your heart and shits in your skull.”

“Don’t bitch at me, this wasn’t my idea. Frankly speaking, I’m ashamed this place even exists. Criminals or not, I would much rather see these people executed so their souls can move on rather than imprison them within their own bodies, but my opinion is irrelevant.”

“Is that why you seemed so nonchalant that my Master blew up your Foundation’s precious underground facility?”

“Something like that. My bosses were quite furious, but I was honestly relieved to hear that den of nightmares they called a think tank was gone.

Relieved, but not surprised. The kind of ‘work’ that went on there was bound to blow up in the Foundation’s face sooner or later.”

“My Master wants you to know you should save your breath. It’s not going to believe for a second you truly feel that way.”

“It wasn’t as if I joined by choice,” he mumbled in response.

Silus Underwood’s death in the wake of Overlord Nagnamor’s rampage was not faked. He was indeed just another in a long list of casualties during the final days of the Calamity Conflict. The only reason he didn’t stay dead was because the Foundation chose to revive him, much as they had Boxxy. Silus was deemed too valuable an asset to simply feed him to the trees, so he was

‘recruited’ by the organization. His stated grievances about his new bosses were genuine, but he was an FIB man through and through. Even if he didn’t like it, Silus understood that it was necessary to cross certain lines to ensure that both the Republic and its people continued to prosper. Bitterhold was ultimately one such necessary evil, and this potential collaboration with Boxxy would be another.

“What about this place?” Xera ceased her mocking tone.

“Hm? Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“I’m curious what sort of sick bastard’s in charge here.”

“You’re about to find out. This is the warden’s office.”

The elf and the djinn had been escorted to the doorstep of that out-of-place two-story house. It was a bit run down and sort of plain. It was by no means a mansion, but it certainly seemed that way compared to the other facilities.

The visitors went through the squeaky front door into a living-room-sized office with a few doors and a set of stairs towards the back. The furniture consisted of the usual range of chairs, desks, shelves, and cabinets, except they were arranged rather haphazardly. The disarray was only one part of the complete mess in the spacious room. The pale orange walls and light green carpet had numerous stains from some unknown liquid. Probably
wine, judging by the hundreds of empty, labeled bottles littered across the floor and the distinct, stale stench of alcohol in the air.

Situated squarely in the middle of this disaster, sporting a sharp grin of her own, was the warden. She was a mature elf at least thirty years of age with above-average height and a pair of ears slightly longer and thinner than normal. Her long, messy, oily hair was a curious shade of bright pink, which was somehow not the strangest aspect of her appearance. While her right eye was a bright shade of blue well within the norm, her left iris was an exotic silver color dotted with darker speckles of gray that were quite visible, even at a distance.

Her outfit, much like everything else in this place, seemed fine only at a glance. She wore the same sort of plain, pale green military uniform as the other guards, albeit with a couple of differences. For one, the shirt strained to contain her generous bosom. Two, the skirt seemed quite short on top of having a slit on the side, exposing a fair bit of skin between it and the slightly-too-tight thigh-high socks. A dark jacket with a shoulder patch denoting her rank hung from her shoulders, though it wasn’t all that visible given her posture. She sat in a red armchair while leaning to one side with her chin resting on the back of her hand. She also had one steel-toed boot up on the edge of the cushion, which brought her knee up to almost the same level as her mismatched eyes. Her posture gave off a laid-back yet arrogant feeling of someone who knew they made a huge mess but had no intention of doing anything about it. This notion was reinforced by the half-finished bottle of wine in her free hand, implying the resident drunkard was none other than her.

Overall, this brazen slob seemed unfit to supervise a garden of pet rocks, let alone the most notorious and high-security prison in Republic history.

“Hello, Mishter Underwood,” she slurred a greeting.

“Hello, ma’am,” Silus replied with a sharp salute.

“Who’s your- *Slurp* -wonderful guesht?”

And then she casually used a freakishly long tongue to lick the entirety of her chin.

“Warden Stain, I’d like to introduce you to one of the Sandman’s familiars.

Madam Snack, this is Warden Stain, the secret behind Bitterhold’s…

success.”

“Oh, ‘Shnack’ is it? *Slurp* You certainly look delectable!”

“My, quite the obscene woman you have here,” the pot called the kettle black. “Let me guess, she controls the rowdy lads by using that freakish tongue to lick their asses clean.”

Her abrasiveness was intentional and deliberate, meant to probe the contents of the warden’s character.

“Hehehe… *Slurp* Why don’t you come over here and- *Slurp* -find out?”

It would appear Boxxy had to add ‘sleazy’ to the list of faults, alongside

‘lazy’ and ‘drunkard.’

“Stain, this demon isn’t a tribute,” Silus interrupted. “The Foundation is trying to recruit her and her master for a dangerous mission, but they need some reassurance my bosses are willing to cooperate with monsters. That’s why I brought them here.”

“Oh-hoh! I see! Sho this is the one, eh?”

The elf rose to her feet and wobbled closer to the alluring guest, still clutching that half-finished bottle of wine and kicking aside some of the more recently emptied ones on the floor. Once she got closer, Xera was entirely unsurprised to find that the shameless slob gave off an almost overpowering stench. She reeked of alcohol, sweat, and something else that was no less foul. The demoness didn’t even attempt to hide her look of disgust and contempt as the warden leaned in so close that their foreheads nearly bumped, prompting the guest to pull back. Xera had a lot of fetishes, but filth wasn’t one. She also couldn’t help but notice a light ‘knock’ on her psyche mixed in with the unpleasant sensations, though she made sure her mind was fully closed off. Demons were all but impervious to direct mental manipulation, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Oh. I think I like you,” Stain grinned widely.

“And I absolutely despise your entire existence,” the djinn sneered, “so how about you stop wasting my Master’s time and get on with… whatever this is supposed to be.”

“Hmm… *Slurp* I suppose that’s enough shtalling. Follow me.”

The elf continued walking towards the exit, her gait unsteady and meandering. While hardly surprising behavior for a drunk, Xera couldn’t help but question if the warden was actually as inebriated as she appeared.

The former succubus had become something of an expert on the subject of getting shit-faced over the centuries, and that didn’t seem like the walk of a drunkard. It was more akin to someone who wasn’t quite sure how legs worked. A subtle difference to be sure, but an important one. Xera had learned all about that during her early days at Boxxy’s side, back when it was still a mimic attempting to pass itself off as person. Well, it was either that or just some poor acting on Stain’s part. The demoness was unable to conclude which was which by the time the warden stumbled out of the room.

“Madam Snack? Is something the matter?”

“Hm? Oh, apologies, Mister Underwood. Master and I were simply sharing some doubts as to my purpose here.”

“I understand, but I believe all will be made clear once we make it outside.

I’m told the warden has something of a flair for the dramatic.”

“Hmpf. So she’s not just lazy, irresponsible, and arrogant, but also a show-off. Truly employee of the month material.”

The man put on a pained expression that seemed to imply Xera was preaching to the choir, then gestured towards the exit.

“Shall we?”

“Yes. Let’s get this over with.”

When Xera stepped outside several seconds later she was met with the most surreal sight of the day. Several search lights from the surrounding guard towers converged directly onto the slovenly warden, who stood in the middle of the main yard with one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around a bottle. It was as if she was the star of a theatrical presentation
about herself, and the whole prison was full of extras. This was a rather literal assessment given the semi-circle of thirty or forty unsavory individuals gathered around her, just outside of the beams’ reach. Between the columns of near-blinding light and the near-total darkness of the rest of the yard, the inmates appeared as little more than ominous person-shaped shadows. The only clearly visible parts of them were their toothy grins and round-lensed goggles, which shone bright as they reflected some of that overwhelming white light. And, of course, they all stared directly at Xera.

“Greetings, lovely Snack!”

They yelled in thunderous unison, then just as uniformly placed their left hands atop the striped caps on their identically bald heads.

“I, am Stain.”

The warden spoke next, her voice suddenly sober and full of authority.

“Some have called me a People Tamer,” she continued, “which I think is rather apt, though not entirely accurate. You see, what I do is not mind control. I do not direct these children's thoughts or confuse their perception of the world. I have conquered and devoured their psyches, replacing them with my own. That is why, even though you see many bodies before you, there is but one will.”

The elf paused while the gathered crowd lifted their headwear as one, revealing what was hidden underneath. Every last inmate’s shaven scalp was partially fused with a fist sized blob of semi-solid pink goo, a pearl-like ball floating idly inside. The warden then suddenly, for lack of a better word, dissolved. Her fair skin turned pink, goopy, and partially transparent

– a perfect match for the prisoners’ parasites. Her hair strands fused together to become a single gelatinous mass and her legs similarly joined together into an amorphous blob. The uniform she was wearing sank into her torso and lower body, only to be replaced by a long, dress-like layer of light red goo as her body expanded to three times its previous volume. The womanly curves from the hips up remained more or less the same, as did her indecently grinning face and oddly colored eyes. Her arms extended downwards, growing smoother and longer while her hands and fingers merged into lumps of pink. Moments later those appendages resembled
little more than a pair of oversized strands of snot hanging off her shoulders.

Last but not least, floating inside the abdominal region of what was unquestionably a slime-type monster were five smooth, shiny, and spherical cores.

“There are no prisoners, there is only Stain!”

The congregation shouted as one, after which they hid their ‘buddies’ under their hats and resumed their duties as if nothing had happened. The spotlights remained on Stain as she lifted her bottle up to her face and jammed it haphazardly into the side of her head, a tongue-like tendril lapping up the golden wine within.

“Madam Snack, Mister Morningwood,” Silus spoke, “allow me to introduce the real Warden of Bitterhold. As you can probably tell, she’s the queen slime around these parts. A unique variant at that – an overmind slime that my organization hasn’t seen before or since. Incidentally, she has resided in these caves since before Bitterhold was built and has had the facility to herself since.”

“Mhmm… *Slurp* Most of the time, anyway.”

Well, that answered a fair chunk Boxxy’s questions regarding the prison itself. It would never have guessed that a single creature had permanent control over so many people. Such a feat was impossible through Domination Spells since those had a time limit and repeated use against the same target saw diminishing returns. However, if the inmates were all braindead and Stain had godlike multitasking, then her claims of puppeteering all of them were quite plausible. The monster also considered whether this was just an elaborate play orchestrated with the aid of a lot of Attitude Adjuster, but quickly determined that was extremely unlikely. The documentation Boxxy stole from that Foundation facility made it clear that the stuff would render a subject in an incurable vegetative state long before their personality was completely wiped. Like most medicines, it had to be dosed appropriately.

That said, the formula could still potentially be a factor in this scenario.

“Master is unconvinced,” Xera relayed. “How can it be certain whether you are, shall we say, under the influence?”

“Hrm. Now that you mention it…”

Stain frowned as she pulled the now empty bottle from her head. She gave it a few disappointed shakes before lazily tossing it behind her.

“I am unbearably sober at the moment. *Slurp* Will have to fix that.”

“That is not-“

“I know what your owner meant,” the slime grumbled. “You can tell it that nobody does the brain-fucking around here but me, because I have something called Mind Affinity. I hope you’re not ignorant enough to ask me what it is?”

“Master says it can hazard a guess.”

“Good, then why don’t you confirm it for yourselves, hmm? *Slurp* You’re a naughty little demon, so you should know one or two Domination Spells.”

“Indeed. Then, with your permission…”

Xera approached the goopy regent, hovered up to her head, and pressed her palm against it.

“Sleep!”

And then nothing happened. Nothing at all. No Status messages, no notifications, not even the slightest flinch from that vaguely elf-shaped pile of sentient goo. It was almost as if the djinn was trying to put a rock to sleep. Indeed, the only evidence of her even attempting to use a Spell was the fact that a bit of her MP was used up.

“My turn. Sleep.”

The slime returned the favor, and the former succubus instantly dropped to the floor. It wasn’t until she heard her Master’s telepathic nagging a minute later that she woke up to find herself back inside Stain’s office. However, rather than laying on the floor or resting on the sofa, she was buried neck deep within a dreadfully familiar mass of reddish-pink ooze. The warden had pulled the djinn into her amorphous lower body and stripped her victim completely naked in the process. Judging by the intense prickling sensations
all over her skin, the djinn assumed that she was slowly being digested.

While she would normally be thrilled at the prospect of getting devoured whole, that only applied to getting ripped limb from limb in Boxxy’s nightmarish maw. Her current predicament was just straight-up unpleasant, and not in the fun way, so she tried to struggle free.

Noticing her meal had awoken, Stain lowered her head down to Xera’s.

“Oh my, now this is unexpected. I must say, I didn’t expect for you to wake up so quickly. Your summoner must be quite gifted to have given you so much Mental Fortitude.”

“Release me immediately,” the demon hissed, “or I will boil you from the inside out and smear you across the walls.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. At least let me- *Slurp* -enjoy your taste for a while longer. You are so very delicious.”

“My flavor is for my Master only. You are not worthy to even suck the dirt from underneath my toenails. So, either let me go, or I will make you.”

“Hmpf. Spoilsport.”

The now-naked djinn was unceremoniously spat out, though her exotically erotic and strangely shiny outfit reappeared moments afterwards.

“How did you even do that to me?” Xera asked warily. “Domination magic should have no effect on demons. Unless… you have Legendary Mentality?”

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” said Stain with a goopy smile. “I didn’t think you bound demons bothered with things like Perks.”

She would normally be correct. A demon’s conjured body was incapable of generating or holding Perks. However, Xera wasn’t just any demon – she was Boxxy’s familiar. Her master had achieved both Legendary Intelligence and Legendary Endurance, so it was only natural it would seek out information regarding to other Perks in the series. The Strength, Agility, and Dexterity ones were all seemingly within reach, but Legendary Mentality was the one it was most eager for from the advanced Attributes.

[Legendary Mentality]

A being whose power of will is the stuff of legends.

Requirements: Reach 750 Mental Fortitude (MNT).

[Effects]

Spells and Skills that affect the mind can be used on Golems, Demons, and Undead at 30% effectiveness.

Reduces the duration of hostile mind control effects by 80%.

However, it couldn’t actively pursue any of those at the moment, what with the power creep problem looming over it. At the very least, it was able to confirm beyond the shadow of a doubt that Stain did indeed have the Perk in question. It was the only way the Sleep Spell would have affected Snack at all, even if its effects were greatly weakened. This confirmation was actually good news. It was impossible that someone with Legendary Mentality, Mind Affinity, and the psychic fortitude to dominate over a hundred enlightened beings would succumb to the Foundation’s alchemical cocktail. That could only mean that Stain was indeed cooperating with the Republic government of her own free will. In other words, there was precedent for the kind of deal Boxxy had been offered. There were still a few final, niggling details the doppelganger wanted to confirm regarding the slime’s circumstances.

“My Master has another question for you. Do you know what Attitude Adjuster is?”

“But, of course, my tasty morsel,” the slime wickedly licked her lips. “In fact, you are looking at the origin of that knock off. I have no idea what else is in it, but they did ask for some of my biomass to refine the formula.

Apparently, this slushy goodness opens the door to all kinds of mind-fuckery if used right.”

She swung her massive bust left to right for emphasis, though seeing those waterskin-like breasts bounce and slosh about raised another question.

“Why is it you take that particular form?” Xera asked.

“Why not? What’s wrong with it?”

“Your top half looks more like a succubus than a slime. It’s odd.”

All slimes – regardless of age or subspecies – typically had appearances like blobs or puddles. Some had extremely flexible membranes to keep their fluidity in check, but they were largely formless. They could, of course,
take on a more humanoid shape. Stain wasn’t unique in that regard, though Boxxy was pretty sure she was the only one who used so much unnecessary padding. In fact, that was something of a trend that bothered the former mimic. Why was it that so many monsters emulated forms that most enlightened males would find sexually attractive? Succubi, alraune, dryads, and now even a queen slime? That wasn’t even mentioning the ones Boxxy had yet to encounter in person, like harpies or nymphs. It understood that such traits could be used to lure in easy prey, but this prevalence of large-chested monster-girls just seemed… unnatural.

“The naughty children are to blame for that,” Stain claimed. “You see, when I conquer a mind, I absorb it. Not just memories, but also wants, hopes, and fears. Since most of the people the Republic gives me are ignorant and morally corrupt men, I ended up being affected by their adolescent fantasies of what a queen slime should look like. Things would be different if they had actually seen one of my kind in person before, but chances are they wouldn’t be alive if that happened.”

In short, all men were pigs, and many of Stain’s ‘subjects’ used to be the nastiest swine around.

“But you can still take any form you want,” Xera pressed. “Why that one?”

“It’s a shapeshifter thing,” the feminine blob shrugged. “This is simply the shape I feel most comfortable in.”

That was something Boxxy could relate to, though it wasn’t all that satisfied by her explanation. It was a fairly reasonable one, and it wasn’t about to call her out on how her weird body worked. However, this just seemed like an excuse that did nothing to alleviate the core issue it took with the subject.

Terrania had way too many things with hefty bosoms. Nobody else seemed to notice, or maybe they did and didn’t care, but the more Boxxy thought about it, the more… forced this trend felt. Rather than coming about as a result of natural selection, it seemed more like the result of a conscious effort to create more of them in a seemingly natural way. The shapeshifter could think of at least one unseen force with the potential of doing that, and distinctly remembered that the entity most attuned to it admitted to being a

‘fan of large chests.’

No, those wild theories and personal gripes weren’t important right now.

Boxxy had more pressing concerns, so it ordered Snack to voice its next question.

“So, the Republic has you dig up their shiny rocks by using their undesirables as slave labor. What do you get out of it?”

“Alcohol, and lots of it. I absolutely adore the stuff. It’s soooo gooood,”

Stain shuddered, a lecherous smile on her face. “Elven wine made from fermented Hylt fruit especially! The first time I tasted that delicious brew made me feel like I had found my purpose in life! *Slurp* Have you ever had that sort of feeling?!”

Boxxy did experience something like that, actually. The shapeshifter still vividly remembered its first day after its Rank Up into a greater mimic, for it was the first time it realized the wondrous splendor of gold. That event unlocked an unquenchable thirst for shiny things that rivaled its insatiable hunger for tasty things. However, that didn’t mean that shiny things had completely absorbed its world, and it certainly wouldn’t agree to be a government workhorse just to get more of them. Also, it didn’t need the Foundation to get filthy rich.

“There has to be more to it than just wine, though,” Xera spoke on her master’s behalf.

“Oh, but there is! Though it’s a bit rougher, the kick of specialty dwarven liquors are quite enjoyable in their own way. *Slurp* Firebrand whiskey is probably my favorite among the Kingdom’s drinks, but that gnomish vodka I had a few years ago was quite memorable as well.”

“That is not what Master meant. You can acquire all that stuff if you worked on your own, yes? Granted, your disguise could use some work… make that a lot of work, but we fail to see why you have to answer to a bunch of elves to get it.”

The royal jelly’s bubbly and excited attitude rapidly dissolved into an angry, tight-lipped glare.

“You think I haven’t tried working solo? Every attempt I’ve made to get the things I want ended in pain and hardship. Whenever I tried to carve out a
corner of reality to call my own, the pesky rabble banded together and evicted me.”

The slime grew increasingly furious as her tirade went on, signified by how her pink coloration turned a fiend-like red.

“It was always caused by the smallest of things, too. One errant twitch, one slip of the tongue, one nosy little bitch who refused to break even after months of mind rape, and everything I’ve worked to build up would come crashing down in an instant! And then came the running! And the chasing! I couldn’t take it anymore!”

By the end of her rant, she was so mad that her body seemed to boil. Stain noticed this and took a moment to cool off and return to her usual coloration and demeanor.

“After all that disappointment,” she continued, “is it any surprise I played along when the Foundation offered me a deal? Granted, it was a rough few years initially, but it’s worked out wonderfully for me. They provide me with extra security and a steady supply of servants and good liquor. In return, I punish their criminals and use them to dig up their precious metals and gems. I get fatter, my domain stays strong, the government gets richer, and the cattle they call citizens get to feel safe.”

It certainly sounded like the only losers in this arrangement were the hardened criminals, but it could easily come crashing down if the Republic failed to keep those pesky morals of theirs in check. Then again, it was unlikely any of the elected officials truly knew what was going on in Bitterhold. Even if some sort of formal inspection happened, there were any number of ways that Stain and the Foundation could ensure that the truth remained buried. All things considered, it sounded like a setup too good to be true, which usually meant that it wasn’t.

“I doubt it’s as rosy as you make it out to be,” Xera pressed. “Aren’t you the real prisoner here?”

“Not in the slightest. I could leave anytime I want to.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t thirst for adventure or whatever, and the Republic lets me do what I want with their naughty ones so long as I meet
my quota. Such a safe and comfortable lifestyle suits me just fine. They even give me extra resources to make sure I’m not disturbed by self-righteous morons.”

“The security in this place isn’t there to hold the prisoners in, but to keep outsiders away?”

“Precisely. The Republic needs me to maintain this profitable enterprise, so they wouldn’t want me to get annihilated by some third party. Say what you will about those Foundation types, but they know how to look after their assets.”

Meaning that if Boxxy became one of those ‘assets,’ then it too would be

‘looked after.’ Maybe it wouldn’t get the same royal treatment as Stain since it did slightly obliterate one of their major operations, but the monster didn’t want to be pampered. So long as the Foundation stayed out of its way, it wouldn’t mind taking care of a few loose ends for them, especially if it meant it would get a shot at Edward. Ideally, it would have remained hidden until the Inquisition caught up to and put an end to the ex-Spymaster, but it lost the luxury of secrecy the instant Zone escaped with the truth of Boxxy’s identity.

Therefore, rather than wait to get jumped, the monster had decided to take the initiative every chance it got. The first such opportunity was when it gave the FIB a hint as to the Gilded Hand’s endgame as Keira. It was better than nothing, but not by much. On the other hand, this offer to team up with the Foundation held immense potential. If they could actually guide Boxxy to Edward, and provided back up to boot, then the former Spymaster was surely as good as dead. The fact that this deal would also broker a truce between it and a secret organization was just eyeball icing on the liver cake.

The creature would have accepted an offer this tasty on the spot if not for the concerns that this meeting had largely alleviated. It would still exercise the maximum amount of caution, of course, but after seeing how well Stain seemed to be doing for herself, it was actually looking forward to this…

partnership.

There was just one last, minor hiccup to deal with.

“Where is mister Underwood? My master wishes that I speak with him right away.”

“Oh, him? You won’t be seeing him for a while,” Stain declared dismissively.

“Why? Where is he?”

“He got all noisy and annoying after he saw me knock you out, so I had him sent off for some- *Slurp* -disciplinary action.”

“You can do that? Won’t assaulting a government agent cause problems with your bosses?”

“I won’t kill or cripple him or anything, so it should be fine. Besides, I think you are still misunderstanding something. You see, you’re not in the Ishigar Republic.”

A loud, rhythmic thumping rocked the office, causing the plethora of empty liquor bottles to rattle ominously as hundreds of thralls slammed their tools against the ground in perfect unity.

“This is the Slimedom of Stain, and I am its Queen. You will do well to remember that.”

Part Two

A lone hylt tree stood steadfast amidst the snowed-over Clattering Plains, situated south of Fort Yimin and Bitterhold. It was once the Sandman’s temporary base during the war, as the masked mercenary had seemingly made allies with the dryad within. The plant-woman was nowhere in sight this morning, nor did it seem like she wanted to show herself. This was probably good, since she might interfere with the meeting Boxxy and Silus had agreed to several days prior. This was arguably the site of when the Republic and the Sandman first joined forces, which made it rather symbolic for what was about to happen. The shapeshifter couldn’t give a rat’s ass about any of that, but the meeting spot was more preferable than not. This particular tree spirit was rather rebellious and might do something stupid just for the sake of being stupid. It still had a little trinket known as the Elder Dryad’s Royal Authority, which it could use to draw out Cyrilla for backup should the need arise.

That was merely a contingency. Ideally, Boxxy wouldn’t need to do anything of the sort, but it was good to be prepared in case the Foundation suddenly went back on their word and tried to ambush the shapeshifter. The two parties had agreed to work together in order to eliminate their common enemy and were about to launch that operation. Though four days wasn’t a lot of prep time, they had to strike while the odds were in their favor. The Gilded Hand had expended a lot of resources and manpower on that Aurora Eve raid, and the organization claimed to have a strong lead on their leadership’s location. It wasn’t quite a ‘now or never’ situation, but it was still a golden opportunity that was worth taking.

Naturally, this wouldn’t be a large-scale incursion. Though weakened and formally outlawed, the Hand still boasted a considerable information network, and making a move in force carried the risk of tipping them off.

As such, the Foundation proposed to carry out a covert operation with a select few high-impact individuals that weren’t on the former Spymaster’s watch list. Silus wasn’t included since his personal combat ability was…

lacking. He was still present at the meeting spot, though he was little more than a coordinator and representative. The elf was perfectly fine with this since he wouldn’t be able to keep up. Besides, it wasn’t like any team with
the Sandman on it would lack for manpower considering the creature had three advanced familiars under its control. Surely that would be enough when combined with the Foundation’s forces.

Boxxy clearly disagreed, seeing as it arrived at the meeting spot with extra company.

“Well, this is rather surprising,” said the elf. “I was not expecting to see the Rustblood Juggernaut here.”

“Better get used to it, meatbag,” Fizzy replied casually. “I’m coming with.”

“… Could I ask why?”

“Those bastards threatened people I call friends on the most sacred day of the year. That’s more than enough reason, isn’t it?”

“I can… respect that, but are you sure you can work side by side with a monster?”

“Last time I checked, golems were monsters, too.”

“Well, yes, but you were a person once. We’ve already confirmed that.”

The FIB had already looked into Cornie Fizzlesprocket’s past and found old Appraisal logs from her time in Erosa, which they compared to the golem’s Status from when she first arrived in Azurvale. They were as complete a match as it could get given her extraordinary circumstances.

“Oh, really?” Fizzy sneered. “Did your research also tell you that I was unjustly imprisoned and condemned to work like a slave to fuel the Spymaster’s ambitions? I’d probably be rotting away in a cell right now if Boxxy didn’t free and look after me until I was strong enough to handle myself. I owe this guy my life, and I owe that shit-stain Edward a pummeling, so I’m coming with no matter what.”

For once, the mithril golem spoke her mind. It was her idea to tag along and her decision to reveal this connection. After everything Boxxy told her about its run-ins with the Foundation, she judged it was better for the long run if they were up front about their relationship. The shapeshifter intended to maintain a cooperative relationship with the Foundation, which meant it was practically inevitable they’d find out anyway. Spilling the beans herself would hopefully ease tensions, not to mention allow her to get her own slice
of that revenge pie. Boxxy, naturally, didn’t want to do any of that since it might put suspicion on Keira. However, it had agreed to treat Fizzy as an equal, which meant trusting her judgement.

“Hmm, I see. So, that’s what it was,” Silus didn’t seem surprised. “The FIB
always suspected the two of you had a connection since you arrived in Azurvale at relatively the same time. I must confess, this makes me worry for young miss Morgana. I do not know what motives you had when you chose to get close to her, nor do I want to, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t do anything to harm her. That girl is practically a national treasure.”

The shapeshifter threw the golem an ‘I told you so’ look, then tried to alleviate the agent’s concerns since his masters were certain to agree with them.

“Do not fret, mister Underwood. I have no intention of harming her. Just the opposite, in fact. As you said, she is a precious existence to the Republic.

She is certain to become a person of power and influence. Though she might not appreciate such things, she will not hesitate to use them to protect those she considers allies, especially if they were comrades she made before being thrust into the public eye.”

“I see, so you somehow discovered her identity as a Hero and decided to worm your way into her good graces. That’s also why you singled her out during the early stages of the war, to expedite her rise to fame. Since she considers you two reliable allies, I dare say your plan worked. I always knew you were careful and meticulous in your schemes, but I see I am still underestimating you. Well played, mister Morningwood. Well played indeed.”

It was a good thing that Keira and Nao had that little chat in front of agent Gibbs. That was the first time the catgirl had given her opinion on the Sandman to anyone who wasn’t a confidant, and the only occasion when she used the words ‘reliable ally’ in that context. That seed of misinformation had already grown into a wonderful fruit of deceit. As for the redhead persona, she had already left the capital in secret under the guise of ‘an urgent mission from Jonathan.’ Rowana naturally raised a bit of a stink, but that elf had already been conditioned to never suspect or impede anything her ‘lover’ did.

“It is good you are aware of your shortcomings, mister Underwood. I take it you have no more objections about Fizzy’s involvement?”

“Just obvious ones, such as her ability to keep a low profile. I assume you’ve made adequate preparations to address that?”

“Of course.”

“Then I welcome her aboard. The Foundation looks forward to your future contributions, Ms. Rustblood.”

“Hmpf,” she scoffed. “Don’t get the wrong idea, meatbag. I’m here for my sake, not yours.”

“Noted.”

“If that matter is settled,” said Boxxy, “then would you return the favor, mister Underwood? Explain why Warden Stain is here.”

The shapeshifter nodded towards the stranger that had stood silently behind Silus this entire time.

“Oh my, you could tell?” she cooed in response. “And here I was hoping to string you along at least for a little bit.”

At a glance, the elf’s companion appeared to be a female agent buried underneath several layers of winter clothing. However, though she looked like some minor underling on the surface, underneath was a gelatinous pink mass coated in a dense, skin-like membrane. This made it clear that Stain’s biology was nowhere near as suited to blending in as the doppelganger’s.

That much was obvious, but seeing it in person made Boxxy glad it didn’t join the goop-troupe back when it was offered to Rank Up into a queen slime. While its basic combat ability might’ve been higher, there was no way it could’ve fooled anyone that Keira was a real person. Even if the acting was on point, the smallest cut would have revealed her fluid insides.

“Are you trying to insult my intelligence?” Boxxy scoffed. “Did you honestly think a disguise that flimsy would fool anyone?”

Indeed, the former mimic didn’t even need its MLG to recognize the Warden. Though she wore a hood and mask that concealed most of her face, one could still see the mismatched silver-and-blue eyes and strands of pink hair poking out from underneath. She also constantly made quiet slurping
noises. That unique combination of traits made it unthinkable that she’d be anyone else. Anyone who’d seen Bitterhold’s Warden in person, whether her real self or her flimsy Facade, would immediately see through that getup. Whether she left those obvious hints on purpose or was physically incapable of disguising them, Boxxy could not tell. Nor did it really care.

“Well, I suppose there’s hardly a point in hiding any longer!”

“Stain! Don’t.”

It looked as though the slime was about to explosively expand like when she first met Snack, but Silus intervened.

“We talked about this. You need to act as if you are being watched at all times.”

“Hmpf. Sounds like someone hasn’t gotten enough disciplinary action.”

The annoyed threat made the elf’s eye twitch, but he stood firm.

“Touch me again, and the Foundation will cut your wine rations in half for the next three months.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Let’s just get going.”

“Going? So she’s coming with us?” asked Boxxy, its voice oozing with doubt.

“Indeed,” Silus confirmed.

“Are you two really all the Foundation is sending to catch the most elusive man on the continent?”

“No, it’s actually just Stain. We cannot mobilize anyone else that would not become a hinderance and isn’t potentially monitored by the enemy.”

“That’s… disappointing.”

Boxxy was hoping to meet some elite secret agent or living superweapon the Foundation kept in its back pocket. Admittedly, the gelatinous regent likely fell into the latter category, but subterfuge obviously wasn’t her strong point.

“Forgive me, I spoke poorly,” the elf apologized. “What I meant was that she is our best option for this mission, not the only one.”

“How so?”

“One of our targets is a Psionic,” Stain answered. “Quite the powerful one, from what I’m told. *Slurp* Anyone without an unassailable psyche will surely be easy prey.”

Boxxy couldn’t argue with that considering it only allowed Fizzy to come because her constructed nature made her impervious to mental attacks.

Barring any Legendary Mentality shenanigans, of course.

“By the way,” the golem spoke up, “do you have to keep doing that tongue thing.”

“Who? *Slurp* Me?”

“Yes, you. Cut that out. It’s disgusting.”

“… *Slurp*”

“That’s it!”

Fizzy unsheathed her arm cannon and appeared ready to splatter Stain’s head, but Boxxy grabbed hold of her before she could even take aim. They struggled for a few moments before the golem relented and put away the plasma-thrower.

“Warden, please,” the shapeshifter pleaded. “My companion is repulsed enough by the bulbous slushiness of regular meatbags without listening to that habit of yours. We would both appreciate it if you kept that tongue in check.”

“Are you making demands, fleshling?”

“No, he is not.”

It was Silus’s turn to calm the irritable monster by his side, whose tone of voice made it clear she wasn’t going to comply.

“Our new colleague is simply requesting your cooperation and consideration, which I imagine will be offered in return.”

“Within reason, of course,” Boxxy added.

“… Fine,” Stain agreed. “I hate how fast my face dries out, but I can bear with it.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Warden,” the elf looked relieved. “In any event, Stain has all the information you need to track down the Gilded Hand’s base of operations. She’ll brief you on the way once you depart, which I must request that you do shortly.”

“Before we do, I have one last question for you,” Boxxy stated.

“I will do my best to answer.”

“Not for you, but for the Warden. Why risk your life for the Foundation?”

Given what the slime said about her supposedly perfect arrangement, it seemed strange that she’d agree to go on a dangerous mission that would take her far from her lair.

“My reasons are my own,” was her answer. “Suffice it to say, it’s a personal matter for me, too. Besides, I am not ‘risking my life.’ The body you see before you is one I have specially prepared for this mission, but it is not the only one. My consciousness will live should it perish. However, I won’t be taking this lightly. If this clone dies, its memories will be lost forever, and it will take me years to completely recover.”

“Huh. I wasn’t aware something as simple as a slime could have such a convenient ability. I was certain your kind were only good for playing around with various fluids.”

“Do not lump me in with the plebeian puddles you may have come across.

None of them come close to me!”

“So you say, yet I have faced several queen slimes. None were difficult to handle.”

“Ha! I imagine not. The rest of my kind are naught but brainless blobs.

They wouldn’t know what to do with my Hyper Division even if they had it!”

“I see. So you have an Ultimate Skill called Hyper Division. This is good to know.”

Silus sighed and put a palm over his face while the proud-looking overmind slime slowly realized she had given away one of her biggest secrets for no good reason.

“Come on, Stain!” the elf complained. “We talked about this! You can’t let your guard down around this guy!”

“What are the drawbacks, then?” Boxxy continued, ignoring the elf. “Does splitting your body also divide its abilities? It must be something like that, seeing as how you seem more in control than when you met Snack. I detect sixty-eight cores floating around inside you as opposed to the five you had back then, so the clone’s abilities must depend on how many you give it.

You must have ‘let go’ of quite a few of your ‘subjects’ to gather so many cores, though I’m guessing you have a way to reclaim them later.

Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t have done it.”

“Mmm, impressive,” she sounded amused. “I was told you were a clever one, but I didn’t expect you to deduce so much this quickly.”

The doppelganger’s educated guesses had all been spot on, including the parts about the prisoners. The slime’s personal brand of ‘mental conquest’

left her victims irreversibly brain dead, reducing them to literal meat puppets with the overmind slime pulling the strings. Though the soul remained, it was trapped within the living flesh. In other words, the only true ‘release’ from Stain’s control was death. The inmates whose cores were reappropriated were left in a comatose state, and their needs were tended to by still-functioning brain-slaves. This also meant that Bitterhold’s mining operations had slowed to a crawl and would remain that way until Stain’s super-clone returned.

“I almost feel like claiming you for myself here and now.”

The slime leered somewhat disturbingly towards Boxxy as she said that, prompting Fizzy to step forward.

“Try it and I will reduce you to a steaming puddle of crap.”

Miniature bolts of lightning arced out of her, melting the snow beneath her feet and causing the gluttonous goo-girl to shrink back. Stain, like most shapeshifters, shared Boxxy’s elemental weakness. This show of force would surely make her think twice before she dared cross the electrified golem or her partner. What made the construct even more troublesome was that the slime sensed not one, but three distinct minds within that shiny shell. This puzzled and confused Stain since she had no idea how it was possible. Then again, was it really that much of a stretch when the Warden
controlled hundreds of bodies with a single shared consciousness?

Regardless, she determined it wasn’t in her best interest to provoke any hostilities. Even with Legendary Mentality, she’d be hard pressed to dominate a golem with a multifaceted psyche.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I must insist we speed this along,” said Silus.

“Every minute we spend here gives our enemy time to prepare.”

“No need to be so dramatic, mister Underwood. If a delay this brief can truly impact the outcome of the mission, then you would not have given me nearly a week to prepare.”

Though Boxxy’s inclusion was very recent, this operation had likely been in the works for months, maybe even years. The informant who tipped off the FIB to the Aurora Eve raid must have been in deep cover for a long time, and if that major leak hadn’t ousted the spy yet, it was unlikely anything would. This mole was clearly still in place considering the Foundation had information on the Hand’s current whereabouts, hence why they were able to give the monster so much time to get ready.

“Still, you have made your point. I’m ready to depart if Stain is.”

“I suppose we should,” she confirmed.

“Excellent. I shall leave you to it. Good hunting, mister Morningwood.”

Silus pulled out a Comm-crystal, spoke some code words into it, and a Gate portal opened nearby. It was only once he was gone that Boxxy realized a certain snag.

“So, where are we going, exactly?”

“Watford,” Stain replied. “You know of it?”

“Hmm. If I recall, it’s a scummy port town in the central Empire. Haven’t been, but I’ve heard things.”

The name had come up during Boxxy’s Quest against the Order of the Black Wand. While on the road, it kept an ear to the ground regarding the Inquisition’s movements, mostly to avoid any settlements or outposts they had a strong presence in. Watford was one of those. However, it was rather far from the shapeshifter’s path and didn’t seem relevant at the time, so it hadn’t committed any details to memory. Irony aside, if the Gilded Hand
really was lurking in Watford, then perhaps the Inquisition could be used against them. Or, maybe they would just complicate things. Hard to say until Boxxy personally scoped out the situation.

“You know where it is?” Stain asked.

“Roughly. South-western shore of the Oculus Sea, yes?”

That was the massive body of water that stood at the heart of the continent, so named after the eye-shaped imprint it left on the map. It made up the entirety of the Empire’s northeastern border, and Watford was one of the more notorious settlements on its banks. As the shapeshifter would later learn, it was a cesspool of moral bankruptcy and a hotbed of smugglers, thieves, and slave traders. It was the perfect place for Edward and his cohorts to hide – just a few fat flies in a hive of scum and villainy.

Incidentally, that reputation was also what made the Inquisition practically occupy the place.

“That’s the one. You have a way to travel quickly?” the slime asked.

“You don’t?”

“I did, before he left.”

She nodded towards the Gate that was no longer there.

“Ah. I suppose I can handle transportation, though you’re probably not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

The Sandman raised an arm to his side and opened up its Storage portal.

“You and Fizzy hop in here for a little while. Afterwards, I’ll teleport us to a new position where we will wait for my MP to recover. We then repeat the process until we reach Watford.”

“Ugh, in there again,” groaned Fizzy.

“What? You don’t need air to survive.”

“No, but how can you behold my glorious mithril frame if I’m stuck in some dimensional pothole?”

Boxxy didn’t have to do that. It was possible to transport others with Transfamiliar, but that would make the MP cost grow tremendously, thereby reducing its effective range. It would be even worse if it had to carry both Stain and Fizzy. Conversely, if the ladies piggybacked inside its Storage, then the Spell could maintain its usual efficiency. As much as the shapeshifter wanted to gawk at her glorious mithril frame, losing out on a bit of beholding was preferrable to greatly increasing travel time.

“Don’t be like that. I’ll shine your bumper afterwards, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” she conceded. “I guess I’ll bear it. What about the goober?”

Stain shot the golem a look that said she clearly didn’t like being called that, but didn’t retort. The elf-shaped slime knew there would be plenty of time to swap insults later. Right now, she had something important to ask, so she turned back to Boxxy.

“How long do I have to stay in there?”

“About fifteen seconds every two hours, roughly.”

“Hmm. And how long before we get to Watford?”

“I’ll need to check a map to be sure, but about three days.”

Technically, Boxxy could make it in two if it rushed, but it needed to pace itself carefully. Completely draining its MP over and over was exhausting, not to mention ill-advised when dealing with an unknown quantity like Stain. It had a feeling it might have to bring outsiders along, which was why it made sure there was nothing particularly incriminating in its Storage.

It had also sent Snack southward to get a bit of a head start since it had a feeling Edward would be lurking somewhere in that general direction.

“Good enough for me.”

“Alright, then. In you go, both of you. Just don’t flail around in there or terrible things might happen.”

Though it was possible for Storage to contain living things, whoever or whatever was trapped inside could easily force their way out. All they had to do to escape the pocket dimension was apply enough force to its inner boundaries. A hole would rip open, causing Boxxy to take some backlash damage while the offending entity was ejected into the waking world along
with a significant portion of its contents. It learned this the hard way when it tried to confine Wardrobzilla, shortly before the mutated mimic ended its life.

“I know,” Stain groaned. “This isn’t the first time part of me was stuffed in an Item Box.”

The two monstrous women entered Boxxy’s Storage. A lightless, weightless void overtook them while they bumped into the various items and supplies already inside. They were released a short while later, finding themselves on the edge of a snow-covered pinewood forest about sixty kilometers south of their previous location. Fizzy stepped out of the pocket dimension none the worse for wear, though the same could not be said about Stain. The slime queen had to, for lack of a better word, pour herself out of the spatial distortion as her pink goo struggled to keep itself together. The gelatinous mass stayed as a bubbling puddle in the frozen ground for a few seconds more before a half-elf, half-slime woman rose out of it.

“Ugh, that was unpleasant,” she groaned as she continued to reconstitute herself. “What the balls did you just do? It felt like I was ripped apart into a thousand pieces and put back together.”

“Yeah, that Spell doesn’t like shapeshifters,” Boxxy grumbled. “Always forces me back into my base form for some reason. I’m surprised it affected you inside there. Or at all, for that matter.”

“Just my luck. I’m working with an idiot who doesn’t even know how its own magic works.”

“We could always walk, if you want to risk being seen.”

“Oh, and delivering us in the middle of a forest like this is secure?”

“Of course it is. My familiar has already swept the area. There’s nothing within three kilometers of this location but trees and gnolls.”

“I see. You secured it as a fallback point, did you?”

“Of course. There’s no way I’d meet with the Foundation in person without preparing an escape plan or three.”

“I guess you’re not a total amateur. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should rebuild my disguise.”

Stain began steadily shrinking as she forced her body into a more condensed and solid state. This clone seemed to have less biomass than the one Snack saw in Bitterhold, yet Stain still struggled to compress it to people-like proportions. She used the same trick where the clothing floating inside her floated to the surface and emerged without a single drop of moisture on it. The whole process took about half a minute, after which the slime once again looked like an elf, even if barely.

“Wait, you’re done?” asked Fizzy. “What about your eyes?”

“What about them?”

“Shouldn’t you change away from that obvious silver and blue combo?”

“Oh, darn! I thought I did!”

Stain closed her eyes and focused for a few seconds before opening them back up.

“How’s this?”

“Now it’s blue and silver. Swapping them doesn’t really solve anything.”

“Well, it’s the best I can do. Eyes are tricky.”

“Have you tried eating a few?” Boxxy suggested. “That’s how I learned.”

“Good for you, but it’s never helped me.”

“Right. Maybe you just need some practice, then.”

“Pft. Not worth the bother.”

Unsurprisingly, the ‘Slimedom of Stain’ didn’t get many tourists. Aside from new inmates or the occasional ‘tribute,’ most of the visitors were there to deliver supplies or collect mined resources, which the slecs carried in and out of the ravine. Very few outsiders actually stepped inside Bitterhold, let alone met its enigmatic Warden, and the ones that did almost always knew about her true nature. In fact, Xera was the first new face to walk into Stain’s office in six years. The overmind never felt the need to develop any people skills or practice her shapeshifting beyond the bare minimum, so she didn’t. That wasn’t going to change, given her response. Her lazy and irresponsible attitude irked Boxxy, who had spent countless hours of work and practice to earn and maintain its spot in society.

On second thought, perhaps it shouldn’t compare itself to the gelatinous regent too much since their circumstances were completely different.

“Anyway, what now?” Stain asked.

“Now, we wait for my MP. Once I get enough, I summon Snack and send her ahead. She can fly and become invisible, so she can safely and quickly traverse the terrain. Once she reaches a certain distance and makes sure the area is secure, you two hop in my Storage, I cast Transfamiliar, and you know the rest.”

This process could be optimized somewhat by using Claws as the runner.

The agile demon had always been able to move faster than the djinn could fly, even through forests or mountains. However, it wasn’t until her Rank Up that the webstalker gained the stamina to maintain that pace for hours at a time. She was also stealthier, faster, and more perceptive than before, making her well-suited to the task. However, Drea’s talents were better put to use by discretely watching her master’s back just in case Stain got any funny ideas. That meant the group had an extra passenger, but it was simple enough to let her hitch a ride with her master whenever it used Transfamiliar. The stalker’s lithe body wasn’t anywhere near as heavy as Fizzy’s mithril frame, Stain’s bulbous mass, or Boxxy’s dense flesh, so her added weight barely had an impact on the Spell’s efficiency. Incidentally, Arms wasn’t a factor in this at all. She was currently on standby in the Beyond until an emergency necessitated her instant summoning through Voidcaller’s Innate Ability.

“That’s such a roundabout way of doing things,” Stain complained. “What even is this Transfamiliar thing? Wait, is that what made me melt?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic… Don’t suppose you have any other option?”

“No.”

“What about Gate? Can you do Gate?”

“I wouldn’t even if could.”

From what Boxxy knew of the Spell, its method was more reliable, less noticeable, and more secure since its familiar could scout the area.

Transfamiliar’s only real downside was that it was slower over long distances, but it was worth the other benefits. It also had the ability to bypass most anti-teleportation wards since it was actually a translocation Spell. That seemed like a minor technicality, but spatial manipulation was an exact science.

“Ugh,” Stain groaned. “I knew I should’ve brought my Wizard toy.”

“Too bad.”

“Boxxy, we need to get work,” Fizzy reminded it.

“Right. Stain, if you’re done moaning, please be quiet. This will be a delicate process.”

“Huh? Work? Process? What are you talking about?”

Her question was answered not with words, but actions. Boxxy activated Storage and withdrew a small table, a crate of assorted materials, and two toolboxes. The shapeshifter and its ‘trophy wife’ immediately began assembling an explosive device each. The gelatinous regent was clearly peeved by the shapeshifter’s disrespectful attitude, but found her ire dwindling as she observed them work. This was her first time seeing an Artificer practice their craft in person, and there was something mesmerizing about the pair’s radically different approaches.

On one side, Boxxy was using a total of six snake-like limbs instead of arms. Various metal bits and pieces were being added onto the device in front of it at dizzying speed. Bolts were tightened, angles measured, and parts soldered together all at once. As something of an expert on the subject of multitasking, Stain found it intriguing that the doppelganger could do so many minute manipulations at once. It was, of course, nowhere near as impressive as single-handedly running a mithril mine, but it was still an admirable level of skill entertaining to watch.

Fizzy was a lot less hands-on. Her heavy armor covered every part of her, including hands and fingers. Such bulky digits were unsuited to the precision handiwork required to adequately assemble something as volatile as explosives. This was an unfortunate side effect of her recent Rank Up.

Fizzy hoped to rectify this whenever she gained the Physical Augmentation Module from her War Golem Job, but had found a workaround in the
meantime. She used her unwieldy hands to roughly position the components, then relied on Geomagnetic Grip for the finer adjustments and tool handling. The task seemed to take an immense amount of concentration, given how she remained completely and utterly motionless while the floating parts in front of her slowly yet surely snapped into place.

Stain was unaware of those circumstances and could only guess at what was going on, but it was still an entertaining sight that piqued her interest.

By the time the tinkering pair were done with their first devices and preparing to assemble the next, the slime could no longer contain her curiosity.

“What are you making there?”

“Specialized explosives,” Boxxy replied. “I’ll be using them to counter or, at least, hinder the Gilded Hand’s operatives.”

The one it just finished, for instance, would disperse a bronze-based dust in a large area, which it intended to use on Edward. The man had the Obfuscate Skill, which rendered him undetectable through magical means, including Boxxy’s Mana Locator Gland. However, bronze disrupted magic, so dusting him with the alloy would make it easier for the former mimic’s supernatural sensory organ to detect the slippery spy. It wouldn’t be accurate enough to discern much detail, but plenty to tell something was there. Or, at least, that was the theory. Boxxy had tested this using Snack’s Invisibility, but it couldn’t confirm whether it countered Obfuscate since it didn’t know any high-Level Rogues. The monster nevertheless felt confident the ‘bronzescreen’ grenade would prove effective… assuming Edward got caught in its radius. This wasn’t so much a new design as an adaptation on an existing one that had proven effective in the past.

Another special surprise on the shapeshifter’s to-do list was a cone-shaped

‘party popper’ that would scatter hundreds of needles laced with a powerful hallucinogenic. Fizzy, on the other hand, had developed a highly experimental, basilisk-inspired flashbang that would petrify anyone who took the brunt of its blinding payload. Both of these would fail miserably if the target’s constitution was hardy enough to resist those ailments. That was why at least half of the explosives on the menu would carry more traditional payloads. Fire and shrapnel tended to be highly effective against most enlightened targets. Boxxy also considered the possibility that its enemies
could bounce its projectiles back at it before detonation, so it made sure none of the tricky ones were an issue. It vehemently refused Fizzy’s demands to make something she called a pulse bomb. While it did not doubt her claims that the device’s electrical discharge would be ‘totally sweet’ and ‘piss-easy to supercharge,’ it dreaded to think what would happen if it got caught in the blast.

“You are making these now?” asked Stain. “Why did you not prepare adequately for the mission before we left?”

“This expedition was short notice and procuring the necessary materials took… time.”

Also an exorbitant amount of gold and gems, but Boxxy was trying really hard not to think about that.

“Point is, I had a feeling we’d be doing a lot of travelling, which means a lot of downtime, which I’m converting into prep work.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose.”

“What about yourself? You’re not just going to stand there staring, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. It isn’t often such a large part of me gets to take a break from running the prison, so I will take advantage of it while I can.

Besides, I don’t need toys to do my part.”

“Suit yourself.”

Boxxy turned its full attention back to the task at hand while Fizzy continued pouring all of hers into an experimental device she had been designing inside her head for the past week or so. When detonated, it would violently pull all ferromagnetic metals towards itself. Considering a lot of equipment, weapons, and armor had iron in them, it was sure to make quite the impact. At least, that was the theory, though it wouldn’t be long before she was able to field test it.

[You have created a Mag-pulse Grenade of Poor quality.]

[A new invention has been born! Arclight Artificer experience increased.]

[Proficiency level increased. Electromagnetism is now Level 2. INT +5.

END +3.]

“Alright!”

Fizzy cheered as she picked up the amalgamation of copper coils, exposed wiring, and iron fragments.

“Look, Boxxy! I did it!”

“What, already? I thought you said you’d need at least a few more days before you perfected it.”

“I do. This one is just an initial prototype, so I don’t expect much.”

Though the item was only one step up from the dreaded Unusable rating, it was the most one could expect under the circumstances. No matter how talented Fizzy was, she still needed to fine tune and improve upon the design after putting it through its paces. She didn’t even bother making a casing since that was the easy part. It also lacked an internal power source, meaning that the dynamo golem would have to charge it with her own electrical output. That was by design as it would be impossible to make it so compact otherwise. Yet Fizzy’s creation was still functional enough to be recognized as a new invention despite its many flaws, intentional or otherwise.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” stated Boxxy. “Making something original work on your first try is incredible. I know for a fact how hard it is to make an idea into a reality. I always knew you had the shiny mind of a genius, but I see now I had been sorely underestimating you!”

Those words of sincere-sounding praise made the golem’s core buzz with delight. As expected of the monster that made her into what she was today, it knew just what she wanted to hear.

“Hmm? Where’s that goober gone off to?”

Now that she allowed her concentration to slacken, Fizzy noticed their slimy hitchhiker was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, she got bored about an hour ago and went off to get some food.”

“An hour?”

The golem paused for a second while she consulted her internal clock, courtesy of the Tick Counter Skill.

“Holy shit! I’ve been at this for almost five hours?!”

Not having any of those pesky biological functions made it terrifyingly easy for Fizzy to lose track of time, especially when she was engrossed in her work. This was a problem because they had to act fast if they were to catch up to the Gilded Hand before the Foundation’s mole was exposed.

Considering it took about two hours for Xera to reach a new transfer point, this meant that they were already a jump and a half behind schedule.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” she protested.

“You look especially shiny when you’re concentrating, so I let you be.

Besides, it’s worth squeezing in as much prep work as we can.”

Back when the Gilded Hand attacked the Aurora Eve party, they had caught the shapeshifter woefully unprepared. Not this time. When next they met, the element of surprise would be on the monster’s side. It would descend upon them with the full martial, mystical, and monetary force of Boxxy T.

Morningwood.

The mimic-at-heart then abruptly curled up into a ball and retreated back into its ‘safe space’ of a plain-looking treasure chest.

“Boxxy? What’s the matter?”

“… Nothing.”

“Thinking about your expenses again?”

“… Yes.”

A little over fifty thousand gold pieces had been spent on materials, potions, elixirs, oils, and enchanted equipment of the highest quality it could obtain on short notice. Boxxy’s Storage was filled nearly to the brim with a private arsenal vast enough to outfit a fifty-man platoon of elite soldiers. It was pulling out all the stops for this, but understanding that it was a necessary sacrifice did little to ease the pain from the gaping hole in its hoard.

Admittedly, it could have just stolen it all, but buying it was faster and simpler, which it deemed more vital given the mission’s relative urgency. It was clearly regretting that decision.

“There, there, it’s okay,” Fizzy gently stroked its lid. “You still have me, and I’m all the shininess you’ll ever need.”

“But… my collection! Some of those were rare! Unique, even!”

“Shhhh. We’ll find you some new ones.”

The golem had just begun comforting the greedy box when she heard a rustling noise from behind. She abruptly turned around and aimed her Magitech Cannon at the disturbance just as a pack of over thirty gnolls emerge from the treeline. She held her fire, however, as she noticed that each of the canine humanoids had a pink blob fused to their heads. Sure enough, these creatures’ new owner could be seen sloshing alongside them in an extremely casual manner.

“There you go, Boxxy,” she declared with a triumphant tone. “I caught quite a few for you.”

The mini-Stains leapt off their victims all at once as they rushed to reunite with the main body, leaving the gnolls to fall into the snow like puppets with their strings cut. The murder-box leapt from its sitting position and pounced on them, devouring them one by one with a sort of zeal Fizzy hadn’t seen in a long while. The slime was even more surprised given how quickly she backed away from the feeding frenzy, though she didn’t seem scared or repulsed.

“Wow, look at it go!” she sounded impressed. “Must have been hungrier than it let on.”

“That definitely isn’t hunger,” Fizzy corrected. “Boxxy made sure it was full before we left for the meeting. I think this is just stress eating.”

It was the first time ever that the creature was headed towards a life-or-death battle of its own volition, so the pressure was probably getting to it.

“Oh, I see. I must admit, I too am prone to binge-drinking when faced with a troublesome problem.”

“You seem quite relaxed right now, though.”

“Of course. I have the benefit of a backup body in case this one falls. I have only committed as much of myself to this endeavor as I feel comfortable losing. I dare say the same could not be said about your boss.”

The two monstrous women continued watching Boxxy splatter blood all over the place as it tore into the gnolls like a whirlwind of teeth. It even
went so far as to lick up the red snow, not willing to waste a single drop of its meal.

“Come to think of it, how come you did this for Boxxy?” Fizzy asked after a while.

“I had some time to kill,” Stain shrugged. “Also, I was offered something in return.”

“… Dare I ask what that is?”

“Boxxy has promised to share its Snack with me. It is something I am looking forward to- *SSSSLUUURRRP* -immensely.”

“Oh, I see. Good for you.”

Though the golem calmly said that outwardly, inside her head was a different story.

Looks like Boxxy caught another one, she grumbled inwardly.

“She does seem like a bit of a pervert,” commented Plus.

“Definitely a pervert,” Minus agreed. “That weird tongue thing she just did? Made my spine crawl. And I don’t even have one of those!”

One-sidedly branding Stain as a sexual deviant was perhaps one of the quickest unanimous decisions the trio had reached yet, though it was an easy one considering Boxxy’s track record. First it was the depraved demonic duo of Kora and Xera, then the twisted lich-bitch that shall forever be known simply as ‘Nasty’. Fizzy thought she had seen it all with the dryad that had a breast-feeding fetish and the strangely obsessed stalker, but even Keira’s girlfriend was becoming more and more lecherous by the day.

The irony of a genderless creature with zero sex drive somehow surrounding itself with all manner of lewd women was so thick one would need a pickaxe to dig through it. Adding a busty bag of fluid to the mix would just be par for the course. Fizzy didn’t mind this trend too much, though. She was just happy that at least she wasn’t a pervert.

Of course, she only felt that way because all of her personalities failed to consider that walking around naked in broad daylight and getting excited about it was not exactly a wholesome habit.

Part Three

The Oculus Sea that stood at the heart of the continent was a troublesome body of water to navigate. The main cause of this was the seemingly eternal thunderstorm that dominated its center. This unnatural phenomenon, known simply as the Iris, was theorized to be a remnant of whatever cataclysm formed the sea. Though its origins were shrouded in mystery, its adverse effects on the Oculus Sea’s currents and weather patterns were widely known and thoroughly documented. The same went for its uncanny ability to confuse all manner of compasses, magical or otherwise. Navigating using the stars was possible, but only in places where the cloud cover overhead was not permanent.

What this meant in practical terms was that ship travel was largely restricted to about twenty kilometers from the shoreline. Any deeper than that and vessels would have to fight water currents that threw them off course and slowly but surely pulled them into the Iris. Which, as one might imagine, was not a safe place. That ever-looming danger did little to stop the hundreds of ships and boats that braved those troubled waters on the daily.

Fish and algae were abundant while aquatic monsters were far less common than in the oceans surrounding the continent. Travelling the Oculus Sea was also the only direct trade route between the Lodrak Empire and the Horkensaft Kingdom. The ring-like shape of Atica’s landmass meant sea travel wasn’t necessary to go from one nation to the other, but it was preferable. Those wishing to circle around the Oculus Sea had to go through the Ishigar Republic to the northwest or the Sovereign State Alliance to the southeast. Considering both of those governments had less than stellar relations with the Empire, traders found it quicker, safer, and cheaper to opt for the sea route.

Under such circumstances, it was natural that port settlements on the banks of the Oculus Sea would be of significant importance to the human-dominated superpower. The city of Watford was a prime example, as it was the second-largest hub of maritime trade in the Empire. Unfortunately, it was also a magnet for a slew of criminal activity that went largely unpunished due to the rampant corruption that plagued its authorities.

Smuggling and slave trafficking were its most prominent issues, or its
biggest assets, depending on the point of view. It was often said that one could find nearly anything in Watford if they searched hard enough, be it people, goods, services, or rogue spy organizations. Admittedly, that last one seemed as unlikely as it was oddly specific, yet Stain’s information claimed one of those was most assuredly there. The Foundation’s mole within the Gilded Hand had left a number of dead drops for the elves following the Aurora Eve raid. Those clandestine missives claimed that the surviving perpetrators would be retreating over the Oculus Sea via griffins, with Watford as their destination. Apparently, Edward Allen himself had ordered them to regroup there with the rest of the Hand.

Unfortunately, the double agent had suffered a near-fatal injury with long-lasting ramifications, so the intelligence they were able to pass on was minimal. It was up to the strike team to figure out the rest, which was why Boxxy, Stain, and Xera were forced to stalk the poor, run-down parts of the otherwise bustling port city this fine evening. The sky was dyed red by the setting sun, the air stank of salt and fish, and the streets were filled with various unsavory-looking individuals. Yet, at the same time, it was a surprisingly close-knit community. Everyone knew someone who knew a guy. Thus, the monstrous newcomers stood out and attracted more attention than they would’ve liked despite disguising themselves as a burly old sailor and his two wenches.

“You sure this is the place?” Boxxy asked.

“The sign says ‘The Crusty Lady,’ so this has to be it,” Stain replied.

“Wow, I’m surprised this place is still standing,” commented Xera.

The three of them had wound up standing across the street from an old pub.

It was a run-down two-story building that seemed to be held together by spit and a prayer, with boarded up windows and a signpost so rotten that a strong gust would probably knock it over.

“Snack, you know this bar?”

“I know the building, Master. Used to be an old hunting ground of mine about… forty five years ago. It had a different name back then. Also looked a lot nicer, but I guess time has a way of giving buildings a makeover. The fire probably didn’t help.”

“Fire, huh? What did you do?”

“I, uh, may have gotten a bit careless and tipped off the locals that I was an unbound succubus. They cornered me, so I caused a fire as a distraction so I could slip away. My dearly departed summoner was super weak, so that was all I could think to do.”

“Ah. Did it work?”

“Uh, no. I got pinned beneath a burning beam and suffocated from the smoke. Would’ve definitely creamed my pussy if I knew the pleasures of pain back then.”

“Lovely,” Stain groaned. “In any event it’s best if Bo- I mean, ‘Barnacle Bill’ went in alone. You still remember what you need to do, yes?”

“I do.”

“Good, then get to it. Me and the delicious Snack will be probing the locals for extra information.”

“Got it.”

The monster in the shape of a crusty old man casually entered the dubiously named establishment. The interior had a surprisingly cheerful and lively atmosphere in direct contrast to its dreary, run-down exterior. The patrons were far too busy having a jolly old time to pay any attention to the newcomer, allowing Boxxy to take a seat at the bar undisturbed. He was approached by an older woman on the other side of the counter. She had a large diagonal scar on her face which went from her right temple, over her nose, and down her left cheek. She might’ve been beautiful when she was younger, but her current appearance left little doubt she was either the owner of ‘The Crusty Lady’ or its namesake. Maybe a mascot.

“Hey there, old timer. Name’s Benny,” she said in a raspy voice.

“Hello, mine’s Bill. ‘Barnacle’ Bill if you wanna get formal.”

“Good to meet’cha. What’ll it be?”

“I heard you lot had a unique beverage on tap, something called a Stainless Stein special? I’ll have me one of those.”

“Uh, you sure about that? No offense, but that thing might just kill ya.”

“Bah. Don’t lump me in with the rest of these lightweights. I can drink a dwarf under the table with one hand tied behind my back!”

“Mhm. Whatever ya say, Bill. Just pay up front. Can’t collect tabs on a corpse.”

Money changed hands and a short while later Boxxy was presented with a wooden stein plated with silver on the outside. It was an old mug that had changed hands countless times, leaving the metal worn and tarnished. The shapeshifter couldn’t help but give the barmaid a quizzical stare.

“The name’s ironic,” she smirked. “And before you ask – yes, the bubbly green liquid is s’posed to be green an’ bubbly.”

“What about this empty bowl you gave me?”

“That’s for my sake, don’t worry about it.”

Boxxy shrugged and brought the drink up to its lips, but hesitated the instant that foul odor hit its nose. Still, the queen slime stated this was a necessary step to getting in touch with her contact, so it decided to bear with it and took a sip. Contrary to its unsightly appearance and repugnant smell, the actual taste was not all that bad. In fact, it was borderline enjoyable once the slightly fruity aftertaste hit.

“Huh, that wasn’t that bad,” the shapeshifter commented after a single mouthful. “I don’t get what all the fuss is about.”

“Hmm, guess you really are as hardy as you claim,” Benny said. “Three out of four people puke their guts out after the first drop. Guess you won’t be needing that bowl after all.”

That was only natural, as Boxxy had Legendary Endurance. At this point, the only drinks that would even give it pause were ones infused with its Bane, like that Thunderbrew stuff.

“Let me know if you want a refill.”

“Appreciate it, madam.”

The woman left Boxxy to nurse that mysterious drink, which it kept doing for about ten minutes before someone saddled up to the bar and sat next to it. A single look at this stranger was enough to tell that something was very
off about him. He had short, scruffy brown hair and a beard to match. His skin was as rough and cracked as one might expect from a career sailor.

However, while his left eye was an unremarkable brown, his right wasn’t an eye at all. It was a miniature pink slime, with a tiny pearl-like core floating where the iris should be. It moved in perfect tandem with the man’s healthy eyeball, implying the creature was linked to its mind. Unless there was another overmind slime around, the shapeshifter had a pretty good idea where that parasite came from.

“Ahoy, stranger,” the man offered a friendly greeting. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to buy me a drink?”

“Don’t bother the guy, Slimeface!” Benny bellowed from the other side of the bar. “He’s new here, so he’s not used to seeing your ugly mug!”

“That’s quite alright, madam! Please, get the man whatever he wants!”

Boxxy half-shouted before turning its attention back to the visitor. “So, Slimeface, eh?”

“Aye. Kind of obvious where I got that lovely label from, ain’t it? Don’t worry about this little guy, though,” he pointed to his right eye socket, “he’s harmless. Just a souvenir I picked up durin’ me bucaneerin’ days.”

“Well, good to meet you, Slimeface. Folks call me Barnacle Bill, but I never been sure why.”

“A man of the sea, are you?”

“Not exactly. Used to sail the Shimmering Ocean, actually. At least ‘till my crew ran into a really nasty white kraken. Took down the entire ship and a bit of me with it.”

Boxxy pulled its trousers up a bit so its new friend could get a good look at its peg-leg.

“Yeesh. No wonder you downed that drink so easily. You’d have to be one tough son of a shark to survive something like that. Me, I’m more of a diver than a sailor these days. I mostly explore them old ruins at the bottom of the sea and whatnot. There was this one time that-”

However, just as ‘Slimeface’ was starting his story, Boxxy felt a certain tugging inside its head. It was a distinct sensation it had grown familiar
with over the past few days with Stain, a psychic ‘knock on the door’ from someone attempting to communicate telepathically. Given the circumstances, it was painfully obvious who that individual was, so the monster wasted no time letting in Slimeface’s thoughts.

“That bulbous bitch sent you, didn’t she?”

“If by ‘bulbous bitch’ you mean the slime called Stain, then yes.”

“Hrn, at least she wasn’t stupid enough to walk in here herself this time.

What does she want?”

“Did you find any packages or letters marked ‘For Charlie’ since the new year?”

“Yeah, two of them.”

It was rather impressive he was able to hold a vocal conversation and an unrelated telepathic talk at the same time, but then again he probably had plenty of practice.

“One’s three weeks old, the other’s from five days ago,” he continued. “I’ll leave them buried in some trash beneath pier two of the Stormchaser guild’s ports by tomorrow morning.”

“Understood.”

“Oh, and word of advice. I don’t know who you are or what you do, nor do I want to. However, if the bulbous bitch offers you a parting gift, reject it immediately. It’s a ‘stain’ that will never come off, no matter how hard you try.”

Slimeface and Bill continued swapping stories for several minutes before the pink-eyed sod finished his drink and stumbled out of the bar. Boxxy waited around a while longer, killing time by sipping on its stein and lightly interacting with any other curious patrons for another half hour before leaving. The sun was completely gone by the time it met up with Stain and Xera. The trio went to an inn in the more reputable part of the city, where they paid for one of the larger rooms and retreated inside to pool their information.

“Were you able to meet with Slimeface?” asked the moist monarch.

“Yeah. He said he got two packages from your contact. I’ll pick them up at dawn.”

“… That’s it?”

“Should there be more?”

“I’ve come to expect more questions from anyone who meets that man for the first time, such as where he came from, or why one of my offspring has bonded to his face.”

“I don’t actually care, so please spare me the explanation.”

Hearing that the thing in the man’s face was apparently Stain’s spawn was too much information already.

“Gladly,” she agreed.

“How did it go on your end? Were you able to find something?”

“Not in the slightest, Master,” Xera sighed. “I followed Stain as you ordered, but all we did was wander aimlessly. We didn’t even speak to anyone.”

“I don’t need to speak to people to know what’s on their minds, you scrumptious skank,” Stain interjected. “My Cold Reading Skill allows me to scan the idle thoughts of plebeians around me without them realizing.

Through it, I found out a pair of royal griffins were sighted flying over the city in the early days of the new year, causing a good deal of ruckus.”

“Are we sure they’re the Gilded Hand’s griffins?” Boxxy asked.

“Hard to say for certain, but the odds are good. The timing fits, and griffins are not a common sight around these parts. Their royal variants even less so. In any event, we shall find out if our target is here tomorrow. I suggest we wait here until then.”

“What? But it’s barely sundown! Isn’t now the best time to investigate?”

“I must agree with Stain, Master. Watford is not like other cities. It sleeps while the sun is out and comes alive during the night.”

“Quite so,” Stain nodded. “Wandering around aimlessly at this hour is a good way of stumbling across naughty children who do not wish to be
noticed. They will surely turn violent should that happen, and, while I do not doubt your propensity for murder, I fear a bloodbath or two might tip off our quarry.”

It was hard to argue that logic. Having the element of surprise on the likes of the Gilded Hand was a rare and extremely valuable opportunity. It would be foolish to waste it at this juncture because Boxxy happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I can’t just sit and do nothing, though.”

However, the monster did not like wasting its time like this. It wanted to do whatever it could to improve its chances of winning, even if by only 0.1%.

“Why do you not assemble more of those queer devices?” suggested Stain.

“We ran out of materials two days ago, remember? Frankly speaking, Fizzy and I made entirely too many as is, and I’m not sure how effective they’ll be.”

Grenades, bombs, gadgets, and traps could not gain Levels like living things. Their power was static and could easily fall short of doing significant harm to sufficiently powerful targets. Boxxy, for instance, was at the stage where it could take a basic frag grenade to the face and be completely fine. It was extremely likely the Gilded Hand’s top brass were at least on par. Thus, it and its golem partner had put so much effort into those special munitions that did more than simply blow up in a rain of fire and shrapnel. That wasn’t to say that the duo slacked on the classic high-explosive devices, though.

“Master, may I suggest training your body by gouging out my insides with a gigantic thorny cock or two?”

“Make another idiotic statement like that, and I’ll hand you over to your mother for a full month.”

“… Understood, Master.”

The hopeless pervert’s deluded fantasies aside, she reminded Boxxy of something. Arms was currently sparring with Fizzy some twenty kilometers south of the city in order to help hone her fighting style. Surprisingly enough, this was something the archfiend suggested. Apparently, she felt
humiliated after losing to ‘a mere human’ like Zone, which motivated her to actually learn how to fight instead of blindly relying on brute strength.

Boxxy tried training her initially, but teaching a stubborn moron like that proved more difficult than anticipated. That was why it let Fizzy handle Arms’s combat training for the most part. The golem had already proven herself a capable instructor and had the Mentor Skill to prove it. It wasn’t clear whether Boxxy would be able to help with that process, but checking on them was better than doing nothing.

Thankfully, Claws was tagging along with Arms and Fizzy to serve as a lookout in case anyone came to investigate the odd noises, so going there and back was a simple enough matter. After informing Xera and Stain of its intentions, the shapeshifter disappeared from the room with Transfamiliar and arrived in a dimly lit cavern. The sound of battle immediately filled its ears as Arms’s fists smashed against Fizzy’s frame. Both were so engrossed in their duel that neither noticed its arrival, much like how they were when the golem first returned to Azurvale. Not wanting to ruin their focus, Boxxy silently observed the archfiend’s progress for the moment.

Though it was normally ludicrous to think that a three-hundred-year-old demon would learn anything from a few days of tutelage, that was decidedly not the case. Kora always had a natural talent for combat, not to mention her high Brawling Mastery Level already gave her mind and body the know-how to fight effectively. Her attack pattern was not lacking in any way from a mechanical standpoint, but was utterly devoid of any forethought or strategy. This flaw could be blamed on Boxxy’s absurd MP
for making her so powerful that she didn’t need to bother with such things.

After all, there was hardly a need to plan for a battle that would be over in two good hits.

Such naive behavior was nowhere to be seen now. Her face was lacking her usual murderous grin, instead sporting a focused, tight-lipped scowl. Her movements were completely different, too. Rather than wide swings that anyone of her relative power level could easily dodge, her punches and kicks were now quick, compact, and light. She didn’t try to squash her opponent with a big hit or overwhelm her with a wild rush, instead attacking carefully and steadily. Arms was also making surprisingly good use of her large frame’s reach. She had found a distance where she could bash away at Fizzy’s defenses while at the same time being just slightly out
of range of the golem’s attacks. The demon was forcing the smaller opponent to close the distance on her rather than doing her the favor of rushing into point blank range like a moron. Frankly speaking, the shiny Paladin could probably reach her if she did a full swing with her upgraded wrench, but that would leave her wide open to a counter-attack.

Speaking of which, wasn’t Fizzy behaving differently? The style she learned from Boxxy was one where she would constantly try to ruin the opponent’s balance and rhythm, then strike when an opening appeared. This time, however, she had adopted an extremely defensive approach, one that relied on blocking and parrying as many blows as possible as if waiting for her opponent to tire out. It wasn’t a bad idea since golems had near-infinite stamina, but, then again, so did archfiends. It did not seem like a winning strategy in this matchup.

Just as Boxxy was wondering what the former gnome was up to, she suddenly leapt at the much taller demon’s chest. Kora threw her arms up to form multiple cross-guard blocks with her gauntlets just in time to take a massive blow from the wrench. The golem vanished in a flash of lightning, reappearing above and behind the fiend. She swung her wrench down in a massive arc in a repeat of the finishing blow she used during their first bout in Boxxy’s dungeon a week ago. The archfiend didn’t fall for it this time.

She spun around on her left heel, avoiding the huge vertical swing while putting her entire body weight behind the first full force attack she’d thrown in the duel. Two of her right fists slammed into Fizzy’s exposed abdomen, sending the golem flying into the nearby wall with a thunderous impact that made part of the cavern collapse on top of her.

“Booyah! How’s that, pipsqueak?!”

“Good, but not good enough!”

Fizzy exploded from the rubble raring for another round, but she stopped in her tracks when she realized she had a visitor.

“Oh, hey, Boxxy! Didn’t see you there!”

“Yo, boss! How’s it hanging?” Kora gave it a triple wave.

“Hey. What’s going on here?”

“We’re sparring, duh?”

“You, shut up. Fizzy – what was that just now? Why are you not attacking with the arm cannon and the floating wrench technique? You’re not using Parallel Plot or Engine of Destruction, either.”

“Because there would be little point in doing those things,” she claimed.

“I’m the only one in the world who can use that combination of Skills, so training her to handle them is pointless. It’s far more productive to cover the basics, which includes opponents that turtle up.”

“Ah, of course. I guess I really should’ve known better than to doubt your teaching methods. You know, I’ve thought this ever since I first walked into your shop way back when, but you’re one amazing Mentor, you know that?

You can even educate an ignorant musclehead like Arms!”

“Hehe, that’s right, that’s right. Praise me more!”

Kora rolled her eyes at this familiar pattern. If things proceeded like normal, then Boxxy and Fizzy would engage in another needlessly long polishing session. It was somehow vexing to watch, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Well, I’d like to, but I actually need to have a talk with Arms.”

However, it would appear her master had different intentions for once.

“Oh? What’s up, boss?”

“I think you should consider adding some grappling attacks to your repertoire to make the most out of having so many hands. You’re bigger and heavier than most enlightened races, so enemies will have a hard time throwing you off if you manage to grab them right.”

“Huh? But that’s no fun. What’s the point of fondling someone when I can just smash their skull open?”

This was the attitude that gave Boxxy so much trouble when it first tried teaching Kora. She said she wanted to learn, but she didn’t want to do things she found dull. Her master could order her to perform the motions anyway, but none of it would sink in if she wasn’t personally invested.

After all, the shapeshifter couldn’t be expected to micromanage each of her movements during a real fight. Fizzy had somehow found a compromise and taught her the basics, but what would-

Just then, Boxxy had something of a brilliant idea.

“Think of it like this – if you manage to immobilize a powerful opponent in the middle of a duel, then you can rape them on the spot.”

“I mean, I guess. But I can do it after I break their face and legs, right?”

“Or… you could do both?”

“That-! Boss, you’re a bloody genius! Alright, show me how I can make that happen!”

The shapeshifter and the golem proceeded to instruct Kora on the finer points of locking people down with grappling moves. She already knew some decent grabs, tackles, and throws thanks to Brawling Mastery, but she needed to know when to use them. Boxxy was something of an expert on the subject, due in no small part to its extensive anatomical knowledge. It knew all the sweet spots where one needed to apply pressure during a submission hold to inflict pain and/or limit movement. With six powerful arms at her disposal, the archfiend could completely lock down an adult human and still have a few hands free to deal with other targets. She still needed all half-dozen limbs to hold Fizzy down for more than a few moments, but that was beside the point.

This carried on for about nine hours straight. Everything was quiet on Stain’s end, allowing the training session to continue undisturbed until morning. Boxxy had to preserve its energy, so it took on a coaching role while throwing out Mirror Images for Arms to spar against. It was also rather surprising how much of its insight the fiend was able to soak up in that short amount of time. Maybe she was a fast learner once motivated properly? Or, maybe the act of strangling people and binding their limbs came naturally to a species that lived to assert dominance? In any event, Boxxy transferred back to the inn and went to secure the dead drops Slimeface promised yesterday. As it walked the early morning streets, it could clearly smell the stench of blood wafting from a few of the alleys, and a number of smoke trails could be seen rising from the cheap part of town.

It would appear Watford did indeed ‘come alive’ during the night, just like Snack said.

Thankfully, the monster’s destination was in a more affluent and civilized part of the city, where violent clashes between unsavory elements just didn’t
happen. Not in public, at least. It was also where a rather large contingent of the Inquisition had set up shop. Their presence in this area was quite heavy, just as Boxxy had heard. Too heavy. Their forces might become a problem if they stumbled into the shapeshifter’s inevitable battle against the Gilded Hand. Ideally, the monsters would quietly pick off the officers one by one, but the shapeshifter somehow doubted the enemy would cooperate. In any event, the Inquisition was a problem for later. Right now, Boxxy’s main concern was to blend in with the locals while avoiding all of the eye-adorned black banners strewn around the place.

Once it reached its destination, the monster fired up its Mana Locator Gland and tracked down the two packages labeled ‘For Charlie’ in no time flat. It discreetly dug them out and returned to the inn. It made a quick round trip to bring Fizzy in, after which the golem, the doppelganger, and the slime began poring over the information. The older package contained dossiers on each of the Gilded Hand’s chief officers. Their fighting styles, Skill sets, tendencies, appearances – everything short of a Full Appraisal report was contained within. Based on this information, the group determined the biggest threat aside from Edward was the enigmatic Caster called Mist.

According to this intelligence, he used to be the Hero of Magic until he got

‘fired’ for putting politics and ambition before his mastery of the mystic arts. That would certainly explain why and how the Gilded Hand knew of the LIAR, but there was another, more pressing issue to consider.

Mist had at least 25 Levels in many Caster Jobs, including Warlock. This gave him access to a bound familiar, a fiend named Bloknalthoz Kuuszotrath, who the file claimed was genuinely loyal to the old man. That relationship made Mist uniquely dangerous. If his pet demon had been keeping an eye on Killinger’s recent broadcasts of the Boxxy Show, then he would know an attack on the Gilded Hand’s headquarters was imminent.

Even if he couldn’t outright reveal this information to mortals, it was still possible he might somehow tip the humans off or put them on high alert.

Therefore, it was best if Boxxy and its monstrous allies struck sooner rather than later.

The second, more recent dead drop also proved immensely useful. It revealed that the rogue organization had not one, but seven different hideouts in the city. All of them were located within a neighborhood the locals referred to as ‘the Fish Farm.’ The area in question was a shanty
town built atop a series of piers, rafts, and boats in the shallows just outside the city wall. The Gilded Hand’s bases were large seaworthy vessels ready to depart at a moment’s notice should the need arise. It was unclear who would be stationed where, so there was no telling which one Edward was hiding in. Or if he was even around, for that matter.

In any event, the group unanimously agreed that all of those ships needed to be destroyed simultaneously. Doing so would thin out the Gilded Hand’s numbers while cutting off a potential escape route. The man called Bandit apparently still had five griffons under his command, which would also need to be brought down for the same reasons. The flying beasts were going to be tricky, especially the pair of royals, but at least the ships would be easy enough to deal with. Boxxy also decided it would be for the best to throw the city into total chaos. Doing so would surely delay any sort of armed response both from the Inquisition and from… whatever passed for law enforcement around here. It was impossible to tell who was in Edward’s pocket, so it judged it best to assume that everyone was. The others approved of the idea, though Stain needed a bit of extra convincing.

She had doubts whether the group could afford to do that since they would have to spread themselves thin as it was, but Boxxy had it all figured out.

It truly was incredible how much could be achieved with a cartload of explosive devices and an astonishing disregard for collateral damage.

Part Four

It was early noon in Watford, and the weather was uncharacteristically sunny. The Iris’s ever-swirling dark clouds were visible on the horizon if one were to look towards the sea, but the sky overhead was as clear as a summer’s dream. The city was incredibly quiet despite the good weather, only a handful of people roaming the streets. Such a thing would seem strange in most civilized places, but Watford had its own rhythm. The hard-working citizens were already out tending the fields or fishing, and the less reputable ones had yet to wake up from various nightly activities. Long story short, Watford’s midday was almost as quiet as the rest of the world’s midnights. Under normal circumstances, it would stay that way for a few hours more, but today was about to become quite the day.

*KHRADO-DO-DO-DOOONNN*

A series of massive explosions rocked the snoozing city, all of them centered around the floating slum known as the Fish Farm. Nearly twenty shacks, buildings, and ships went up in a deluge of flame and smoke as a result of the near-simultaneous detonations. Various forms of water-based magic were called upon to quell the fires as bewildered people began pouring out of their houses. Hurried footsteps ran up and down the web-like piers as the people tried to sort out this mess, though the ones that tried the hardest weren’t exactly locals.

“What in Teresa’s tits happened here?!”

A man in a hooded blue robe was pulling one of his colleagues out of the water while their ship continued to slowly but surely sink into the bay right in front of them.

“Koff! Koff! We- Koff! We’re under attack, sir!” replied the soaked man as he coughed up seawater.

“Yeah, no shit, idiot,” Hook cursed in a low grumble. “Hrn. I don’t have time for this.”

The hooded baldie reached out and grasped the grunt’s head with both hands.

“Mind Vision!”

A series of images flashed before the Psionic’s eyes, relaying the events of the past few minutes from the underling’s point of view. He saw the man standing guard at the pier under the guise of a sailor with a terrible hangover. A stumbling, lanky figure trudged down the pier and headed towards the grunt. The man did his duty and headed him off to turn him away, intending to warn him this was no place for homeless bums. The stranger then suddenly lunged at him with an unnaturally extending arm. In a show of strength, speed, and ability no common pauper should have, the freakish intruder punched the guard in the head before he could react, sending him flying off the pier. The underling rose to the surface just in time to see this intruder barrel through three of his other comrades and wiggle his way into the ship’s lower decks through one of its gun ports. The ship exploded seconds later through unknown means, peppering the area with burning debris. The ‘witness’ Hook was ‘interrogating’ took a bad blow to the head from a stray piece of wreckage, forcing him back underwater with a definite concussion. Fortunately, he was of a sufficiently high Level, otherwise the Psionic would’ve pulled up a corpse when he showed up shortly afterwards.

Hook let go of the screaming man’s head and turned his attention to the other smoke trails in the sky. There were quite a few already, and they kept increasing as the rest of the city was experiencing belated detonations.

Based on their relative positions and the information ripped out of the grunt’s mind, the officer quickly pieced together what was going on. This was a coordinated attack on the Gilded Hand that targeted all seven of their mobile bases even though the group had only recently transferred their operations to this floating shanty town. That could only happen if they had a mole in their midst, just as Edward suspected. Furthermore, one of the assailants was a shapeshifter of considerable Level, whose true identity was most likely the Sandman that stopped them from taking Nao Shoki. Worse still, the monster wasn’t working alone. Though this seemed an obvious conclusion given the simultaneous detonations, there was also the matter of the anomalous reading on Hook’s Psychic Radar. Someone was rapidly closing in on him from behind and below.

Something shot out of the sea like a missile, flying squarely at Hook’s center of mass. The Psionic had just enough time to ready his defenses, making the mass of pink goo splash against an invisible barrier. Stain
rapidly reformed herself next to her target, giggling obscenely as she did.

One look at her twisted open-mouthed smile and the gelatinous tongue-like tendril that wiggled out of it made it abundantly clear she wished to do unspeakable things to Hook.

“Force Wall!”

The Psionic didn’t wait for her to say anything and immediately countered with a Spell. True to its name, an invisible surface smashed into the pink slime, dealing minimal damage but throwing her off the pier and into the sea. A jet of highly-pressurized water clashed into Hook’s defensive barrier, at which point he noticed another Stain was bearing down on him as she bobbed along the water’s surface. He looked around and realized there were two more of the pink slimes, one of whom had climbed onto the pier and was blocking his escape path.

He realized why his Psychic Radar was giving him mixed signals, for the same entity was attempting to encircle him from all sides. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was now certain these queen slimes shared one mind. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to tell, given how they were moving in perfect unison with the same disturbing look on all of their faces.

The fact that these slimes had faces at all was another matter entirely, as it betrayed both personality and intelligence – the signs of a truly dangerous monster. A more pressing concern was the fact that this battlefield was extremely unfavorable for Hook. Slimes were at their strongest in an environment with plenty of fluids, and this bunch had an entire sea to work with. Normally, he would try to mind-rape the thing into oblivion, but the overwhelming psychic pressure it gave off told him that would never work.

Deciding this was not the place to pick a fight, Hook rapidly retreated into the air.

“Come back here!” cried out all four Stains. “You’ve been naughty and need to be- *SSSLURP* -punished!”

“I’ll pass, thanks!”

Several more Water Slicers drilled into Hook’s barrier, but they were not enough to stop him from retreating towards the emergency fallback point.

As he flew he noticed something gleaming in the sunlight ahead. Something transparent, about ten centimeters in diameter, and shaped like a twelve-
sided die. An arrow pierced the Spell Crystal before he could identify the object as such, shattering it and releasing the magic stored inside. Hook reflexively tried to change course, but the remotely delivered Momentum Anomaly had already enveloped him. With his weight instantly amplified in proportion to his speed, the Psionic found himself plummeting towards the ground and crashing into a shack hard enough to completely flatten it. His barrier softened much of the impact, but it still took him a few seconds to rise to his feet and dig himself out of the wreckage. He then spotted the man- no, the thing that had shot him down. A pedestrian, likely another shapeshifter in disguise, stood atop a nearby roof aiming an enchanted longbow at his face.

Before the creature could let loose its arrow, however, it received a telepathic status update about an inbound threat. It leaped from its position just as Zone’s full force blow came down on it. The evaded strike demolished the roof it was standing on. Hook thought to call out to her, but the manic, broken grin on her face gave him pause. Seeing that expression was so bizarre that it made him doubt whether it was actually her, but the force and intensity with which she swung that deceptively heavy staff left no doubt. She was unquestionably their most powerful fighter, so she could easily eliminate that thing on her own with a bit of luck. Then again, Lady Luck was a two-timing slut, and Hook knew better than to trust her, so he flew upwards with the intent of helping her catch and kill the retreating shapeshifter.

Once he gained some altitude, however, Hook’s ears picked up a distinct eagle-like cry coming from the heart of the city. He immediately recognized it as one of Bandit’s royal griffins. They only raised such a ruckus while in combat, implying that place was under attack as well. Hook didn’t know what to do or where he was most needed, so he took a moment to compose himself and think. It was times like these that communication was of vital importance, meaning the thing he should be doing right now was establishing a telepathic link between himself and the rest of the Gilded Hand’s top brass. He pressed two fingers to his forehead and reached out to all of them.

“This is Hook, can everyone hear me!?” he shouted inside his head.

“About damn time!” growled a frustrated Edward. “What took you so long?!”

“I had company, monster company.”

“You’re not the only one, ya hooded baldy!” complained Bandit. “I need backup right away, some invisible spider-freak and a weird white golem are assaulting Puff and Fluffles!”

Although the names were cutesy, the beasts that bore them were anything but. ‘Puff and Fluffles’ were the two royal griffins that helped cover the Gilded Hand’s retreat from Azurvale by running interference against the Republic’s VIPs. They did so by targeting civilians with their innate magical abilities, forcing the adventurers on the defensive. They’d have definitely been wiped out in a straight-up fight, evidenced by how the one called Dolly didn’t make it back from that botched mission. Her surviving brothers had been kept in the aerie atop the local Lord-Mayor’s castle without the fool being aware they were not ‘his’ griffins, so it was likely that was where they were currently fighting.

Bandit’s other three, more common flying beasts were most likely caught in the mass bombing. They would’ve been inside the cargo holds of the largest ships, right next to the blast powder and ammunition stocks for the cannons.

Those supplies likely caused secondary explosions, and the griffins would’ve taken the brunt of them. They probably survived since Bandit’s Monster Tamer Skills were toughening them up, but it would take time for them to return to their master. The vessels were a completely lost cause, however. They were designed and magically reinforced to take all manner of blows from the outside, but getting blasted apart from within was, to put it mildly, not covered by their warranty.

“He’s not the only one in trouble!” Question chimed in. “Edge and I are being attacked by that red-skinned fiend and her master! We have some backup, but they’re dying like flies!”

“Reporting that I am currently in pursuit of Boxxy T. Morningwood?” Zone spoke with more than a hint of confusion in her voice.

“What?! Then who the fuck is the guy on our end?”

“I saw a different shapeshifter enter one of our ships. It went up in smoke with it still inside. I think it’s safe to assume there’s quite a few running around.”

Hook saying ‘he saw’ something was perhaps not exactly accurate since he was reporting on another’s pilfered memories, but the situation demanded simplicity.

“Not necessarily,” Edward’s voice came in. “Our target was confirmed to be a doppelganger, and those things have a Skill that allows them to conjure body doubles. They’re inferior copies that only last a few minutes, but they make the perfect disposable soldiers. Especially if they’re carrying Artificer-made weapons. Zone, the one you’re chasing is likely another fake wasting your time.”

“… I see.”

The Monk had communicated only two words, and although they ‘sounded’

calm, the animosity attached to her thoughts was impossible to hide.

“Be warned, we have another enemy in the field,” Hook reported. “I was also attacked by a strange queen slime variant, likely an accomplice of the Sandman’s. She’s pink, controls multiple bodies, and likely holds some intense mind-based abilities. Do not engage her unless I’m around.”

“Understood. Mist, open up a Gate to let Edge and Question fall back to your position, then regroup at Bandit’s location with the rest of us,” Edward ordered. “We need to work together if we’re going to salvage this disaster, and those griffins are far too valuable to abandon.”

The former Spymaster could run away here and now, but leaving behind his most valuable allies and assets was not much of an option. The Gilded Hand’s resources and influence were already strained after that debacle at Azurvale, so losing Watford would likely render them physically unable to make any sort of major power play in the foreseeable future. Not to mention, it would destroy their reputation as the Empire’s bogeymen, making coercion and intimidation that much more difficult. In short, turning tail at this juncture would permanently cripple the Gilded Hand, so Edward’s troupe really had no choice but to fight.

There was also the matter of the old spy’s professional pride being injured as a result of clearly being outplayed by a rival organization, though that did not factor into his judgement.

“If you say so,” responded the old man. “Question, where you at?”

“We’re coming up on the corner of Elm Street and Hickory Boulevard, open it up there!”

“Got it, be ready!”

A circular spatial anomaly opened up directly in front of the retreating Gilded Hand officers, allowing Edge, Question, and two of their subordinates to escape. The portal closed immediately afterwards, but not before their pursuers threw a metal canister in after them. The object bounced off the nearby stone wall and fell to the ground with a clatter, only to have a massive armored boot stomp it flat. There was a muffled bang, followed by a loud hissing and an unsavory-looking dark green fluid that spread across the floor. The foot was lifted, revealing the liquid in question was a virulent acid currently busy eating its way through the wooden floorboards.

“Tsk. Just had that carpet replaced,” grumbled Mist. “Oh, well. Nice work, Blok.”

The demon in question snorted once in response as he returned to his station near the room’s only entrance. He was even bigger and more intimidating than the average fiend, standing at nearly three meters tall fully upright. His skin was dark red and his hair and eyes a fiery yellow. He had a massive underbite that made him look as dim-witted as an orc or troll, and three pairs of silver-plated horns poked out of the sides of his skull. The rest of his humanoid body was as wide and ripped as one would expect, though only the left half of it was armored. The handle of a massive greataxe poked over his shoulder.

“So, Question. Care to explain what happened?”

“We got fucked is what happened,” the blond man replied. “The ship we were on went up like a bonfire. Luckily, the two of us were on the deck, so we mostly just got tossed around, but then that monster gave chase.”

“The real one?”

“I would certainly hope so. We don’t stand a chance against the real thing if that’s what the knock-offs are like.”

“Hrmm… What’s up with the girl? Is she okay?”

Edge was currently collapsed on her knees, panting heavily and trembling while hugging her own shoulders. She was also mumbling some barely audible yet clearly incoherent gibberish.

“She will be in a bit. She got hit with a Delirium just before we got away.”

True to Question’s word, the half-elf assassin’s breathing and demeanor calmed down significantly after a few seconds. However, it was clear she was still shaken. Even though the physical injuries from her first ‘meeting’

with the Sandman were healed, her mind still bore a nasty scar. It just went to show that monster was very proficient at using fear as a weapon, both through magical means and psychological warfare.

“I’ll be fine,” she said after noticing the others’ gazes. “By the way, Question, how long are you going to maintain those constructs?”

“Oh, right.”

The blond man waved his hand at the two Gilded Hand foot soldiers, and they disappeared into a cloud of sparkling particles. The real foot soldiers were already sacrificed to help the officers escape, and these two were merely conjured imitations. The man was a Lightbinder by trade, a rare breed of magic user that, as the name implied, focused on the manipulation of light. The Job’s strong points were its use of sturdy barriers, intricate illusions, and constructs of solid light called Lightborn Guardians to support one’s allies. It had some purely offensive magic, too, but Question was never much of a fighter. The main reason he even had the rare Job was for its exceptional clairvoyance and scrying magic, which he needed to fulfil his duty as a strategist and coordinator. He was no stranger to combat, but the most he could do during that shameful retreat was provide cover and stall for time while he and Edge ran for their lives.

“I have some gear and supplies in the wardrobe over there,” said Mist, nodding at a corner. “Suit up and get ready, we need to rejoin the others as soon as possible.”

The other two looked at each other as if just realizing they were wearing plain civilian clothing. To be fair, the boat with all their stuff got slightly blown to pieces, so they didn’t exactly have a chance to grab anything. So, the duo gladly took Mist up on his offer and opened up the wardrobe, though they paused for a moment when they realized the ‘old gear’ was a bunch of blue Gilded Hand uniforms. They even had the gold-colored palm-print insignia on the shoulder pads.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” grumbled the wrinkled old man. “I don’t particularly want to be wearing this old thing either, but it is high-quality gear.”

He patted his chest for emphasis, and only then did the younger ones realize he was already wearing his ‘official’ robes. Not only that, but the gold-plated staff he was using as a walking stick had a bunch of Imperial heraldry on it. His attire practically shouted his allegiance to the entire world, which was less than ideal considering the Gilded Hand’s status as outlaws. However, this emergency hadn’t given Mist the luxury of choice.

Edge and Question were in the same boat and had little choice but to spend the next few minutes donning the incriminating equipment.

“Where are we anyway?” the younger man asked, looking around the dimly lit room. “I don’t recall seeing this place.”

“It’s an old hideout, from before your time. I teleported here when I heard the city was under attack.”

“I mean, like, geographically.”

“Ah. It’s the lighthouse just east of Watford.”

“I see, that’s good. In that case, I will remain here so I can observe and coordinate.”

“What, chickening out already?” Edge sneered.

“Exactly. I’m useless when it comes to high-Level combat. I’d only be dead weight if I showed up in front of that unstoppable monster,” he confidently stated.

“That’s not something to be proud of, you know.”

“I disagree vehemently.”

“Enough banter, we need to go,” Mist called out. “We’ll be porting into a hot zone, so be ready to come out swinging. The enemy has a stalker so we need to get through the Gate as soon as possible and close it behind us.

Blok, you take point.”

The fiend in the corner grunted in response and gripped his axe with both hands. He lowered his stance as if ready to dash, Edge and his master taking position behind him. After briefly coordinating with Bandit through Hook’s psionics, Mist threw open the Gate and the trio dashed through immediately. They found themselves in a flower garden ravaged by combat.

The tall stone walls around them and the imposing keep at their backs made it abundantly clear they were inside Watford’s castle grounds. They didn’t get much of a chance to sightsee, as one of the royal griffons was rolling around on the ground while the other was fighting a short mithril golem.

Both had their wings webbed up, and Bandit could be seen riding the second one’s back, trying and failing to cut the magical thread. Edge immediately went for the one that looked like it was playing in the dirt and expertly kicked off the barely visible webstalker crawling all over it.

Drea fell off the massive beast’s feathery mane and landed on the ground with an agile roll. She hissed aggressively at the half-elf, but Bloknalthoz’s blinding-fast axe swing made her fall back. Over with the griffin called Fluffles, the monster was trying to use the armored talons and mighty beak to swat its much smaller opponent. However, Fizzy was a hard target to pin down. With Parallel Plot and Engine of Destruction already active, she was running on top gear. Minus was in charge of dodging and Plus chanted divine arias, allowing the main personality to focus on firing her Magitech Cannon and remotely bashing her wrench into the griffin with Geomagnetic Grip.

“Freezing Beam!”

This was where Mist was allowed to strut his stuff, blasting away at the mithril construct with its elemental Bane. He hit her from a blind spot, causing Fizzy to literally freeze in her tracks. It didn’t last long, as the ridiculous amount of heat coming off her body instantly freed her from the icy shackles. She used Lightning Warp to dodge another Freezing Beam while returning fire with a blue bolt of pseudo-plasma. Her projectile splashed against Mist’s Mana Shield, dealing no damage but momentarily
obscuring his sight. She used this opportunity to throw a basilisk flashbang, hoping to temporarily disable the troublesome magic user. The old man expertly smashed the explosive device before it could detonate with a blind Air Hammer, thanks to Question’s voice in the back of his head giving him directions. The golem had pulled the explosive from the Artifact-grade gem-studded belt slung across her shoulder. Boxxy had loaned her its Aethereal Repository #3, which boasted an Innate Ability similar in function to its Storage Skill and was currently filled to the brim with bombs and gadgets.

More Gilded Hand reinforcements showed up almost immediately, as Zone flew in and tried to smash the golem in a fly-by strike.

“Shield Wall!”

The Champion of Chaos predicted the strike’s trajectory and countered it with her favorite defensive Martial Art. The Monk’s metal staff smashed against Fizzy’s glowing shield, and the force behind it was almost completely neutralized. At the same time, the contact allowed the powerful electric charge permeating the golem’s body to travel up the shaft, giving Zone a shock that made her reflexively pull away. Meanwhile, Mist had attempted to skewer the construct with a spear-shaped piece of ice, but Drea leapt in and took it, her Cold Affinity completely neutralizing the magic.

While this was all going on, the dapper-looking gentleman called Bandit figured out that he needed fire to burn away the webs binding his pets. He freed the griffin and had it join its brother near Mist, Edge, and the axe-wielding fiend. There was a shrill cry from the sky as one of Bandit’s lesser griffons crashed into the courtyard in a fiery conflagration. The fact that it still clung to life in spite of all the punishment it had suffered both during and after the initial bombing was nothing short of a miracle. It didn’t last long as a Meteor smashed into its prone form before it could move out of the way and crushed what life it had left. The impact also released a wave of smoke and scalding air that put the ground battle on hold for the moment.

Xera descended from the sky, conjured flames in her hands and a wicked grin on her face, her true form on full display.

“You know, I always wondered whether those things burned good, what with all those feathers,” she said calmly. “I give it a seven out of ten.”

“Took you long enough!” Fizzy complained. “Where’s Boxxy?”

“Master and the brickhead are on their way. They should be here any moment.”

The brief calm dragged out as both sides regrouped and held their ground while the rest of their allies converged. Boxxy and Kora showed up by leaping over the wall while Stain burst out of a nearby drainage grate.

Meanwhile, Hook finally flew in to take part in the battle, standing side by side with the rest of the Gilded Hand. It was thus that the proverbial line in the sand was drawn. Boxxy stood on one side, its shape a compact version of its Sandman persona. Kora planted her feet directly in front of her master, ready to take any sort of attack that came their way. Xera floated overhead while Fizzy and Stain stood on either side of the shapeshifter, covering it from all angles. Drea was nowhere to be seen, but she was most certainly nearby.

Standing opposite them, the Gilded Hand assumed a similar formation.

Bloknalthoz took point, shielding Hook and Mist with his massive body.

Edge was standing a bit off to the side in a crouched position, her body coiled and ready to snap like a spring. Zone spread her wings and took to the air, her battle-starved gaze transfixed on the cloaked shapeshifter across the smoldering crater between them. Bandit was standing shoulder to shoulder with his half-elf niece, sword in one hand, buckler in the other, and his now freed royal griffins flanking either side of this group of war criminals.

“Come on out, Edward!” Boxxy shouted, its voice deep and booming. “Or, would you rather watch as we butcher your precious lackeys?!”

“Dear oh me, I guess I can’t just take that threat lightly now, can I?”

Much to everyone’s surprise, the former Spymaster of the Empire strode out from behind one of the massive griffins.

“How did you know he was here?” Fizzy whispered.

“Lucky guess,” it replied in kind.

Edward, on the other hand, had clearly been expecting this sort of development, as his equipment was the same blue uniform he had when he first ‘met’ Boxxy, though not due to nostalgia or symbolism or anything.

Much like Mist had said, this branded equipment was some of the best that the Gilded Hand had at their disposal, which was probably why Hook and Bandit were also wearing their uniforms. This display could also be interpreted as the group’s way of saying that the time for hiding was over, and the time for action was now.

“What is it you hope to achieve here, foolish little box?” Edward shouted as he stood beside Blok. “Is it vengeance you seek? Justice, perhaps? Or did the twigs buy you off like a common sell-sword?”

“And since when did monsters need reasons?”

“Precisely. Since when did monsters need reasons to ally with one another?

Since when did monsters need reason to pointlessly risk their lives for a bunch of elves? Do you honestly expect that slime and golem will not stab you in the back the first chance they get?”

“Betrayal is a purely human problem,” Boxxy countered. “It is the breach of trust, and there’s no such thing among us. Your people, on the other hand…”

It gave Stain a quick nod, prompting the queen slime to slither forward a few paces. Her face bore a twisted smile quivering with excitement. The Gilded Hand prepared their psyches for an impending assault, as Hook had already warned of her considerable yet unknown mental abilities. Still, between himself and Mist, he was confident they could repel whatever brain-blasting magic she threw. What none of them accounted for, however, was that the mind-fuckery they were preparing for had already taken place.

“Would you kindly kill Bandit, my dear girl?”

It was thus that a showdown nearly a year in the making truly kicked off.

Not with a bang or whimper, but a polite request.

Part Five

It was by no means a simple job, infiltrating that place. Deep in Republic territory, built into the side of a constantly windy ravine, only one way in or out, and as heavily guarded as an entrance could get. These were but some of the reasons why nobody went in or out of Bitterhold without the say-so of its Warden. However, no security system was perfect and no stronghold truly impenetrable. Edge demonstrated this quite expertly when she infiltrated the prison at the onset of the Cataclysm Conflict. She was sent there to scout out the place at a time before the siege on Fort Yimin, when the Empire’s top brass thought their victory on that front secure. They imagined they’d be moving on those mines immediately afterwards, so sending an advanced scout seemed like a good idea. But while Edge did manage to sneak in, she quickly learned that getting out of Bitterhold was the truly challenging task.

The spy failed to do so.

Stain and her thralls captured her the instant her presence was detected.

With the overmind slime’s help, the Foundation expedited the Attitude Adjuster treatments to turn the half-elf assassin into an unwilling sleeper agent. It was a rushed job, but they successfully managed to do it in a matter of days rather than months. They programmed her to feed them valuable information, implanted some false memories and bad intel to pass onto her masters, and sent her back. That was why both Edward’s ultimate lie detector and Hook’s mind-reading failed to find the security leak no matter how hard they looked. Their gifts were powerless to uncover the truth when even the spy herself was unaware of her treachery.

Frankly speaking, the whole thing was a gamble on the Foundation’s part.

So many things could have failed, and the endeavor had the potential to blow up in their faces in spectacular ways. The overall outcome was a mixed success. Though their tampering went unnoticed, defects in the conditioning caused Edge to pass on information that was often irrelevant or incomplete. That was why she warned the elves of the Gilded Hand’s raid on Azurvale without mentioning the full extent of their fielded forces.

After considering all options, the Foundation decided it was in their best
interest to quit while they were ahead, though not before playing their ace in the hole one final time.

“Would you kindly kill Bandit, my dear girl?”

*SNIKT*

No sooner did those words leave Stain’s mouth than Edge’s serrated dagger found itself lodged underneath her uncle’s jaw and driven halfway through his skull in a single motion. Hook immediately pushed her off him with a telekinetic blast, but it was too late. The Monster Tamer fell backwards, his body limp, and his heart beating its last. His niece found herself lying face down in the mud with a killer headache and no idea of what was going on.

She tried to get up but froze when she noticed her uncle’s unmoving body and her favorite knife sticking out of his face. She never got the chance to process the implications of this deeply disturbing scene. Her aching head was filled with a griffin’s cry, followed by a massive, powerful beak ripping into her midsection. Lightning flowed through the beast’s mouth and into the thoroughly confused woman as it violently ripped her in half. She did not survive the ordeal.

The other griffin had already charged at and scattered the enemy line.

Though enraged by its master’s death, the beast had no doubt who was truly responsible. Griffins were intelligent creatures, smart enough to recognize speech and perceive personality traits. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they deduced the pink slime and the ones standing with her had done something. It was the only explanation for why their master would have died at the hands of one he cared for like his own offspring. The realization greatly enraged the majestic beasts. One would think monsters would be glad to have been freed from captivity, but these were griffins. They were bred, born, and trained to serve humans, so the only thing at the forefront of these two brothers’ minds was to avenge their ‘father.’ That was why the one called Fluffles had just crushed Edge and followed the other’s example, charging at the menagerie of monsters in front of it.

“SKREEEEEE!”

It let out a terrifying screech and lunged forward, swinging its gigantic talon at the big red thing. Kora stepped into the incoming swipe and slammed as many fists as she could into the griffin’s armored ankle joint. Rather than
parrying or blocking, it was more like she was attacking the beast’s limb.

Her actions did little to disperse or redirect the force behind the blow, resulting in a mutual exchange that sent her flying into a nearby castle wall while nearly breaking the griffin’s foreleg. Fluffles let out a cry of anger and pain at its leg injury, and Boxxy took this opportunity to leap at the thing’s neck and drive a duo of enchanted swords into it. The griffin flapped its wings and flew backwards with speed that belied its massive body, though the magic blades remained embedded halfway into its neck muscles.

There was a flash of light as Fizzy used Lightning Warp to appear in the air directly in front of it. She swung her wrench at one of the sword’s handles, striking it and driving it deeper inside like a hammer would a nail.

However, her airborne position rendered her momentarily incapable of dodging or defending.

“Freezing Beam!”

Mist did not fail to take advantage of opportunity and blasted her with the same Spell. He was the one who stood the best chance at taking down that shiny juggernaut, so he made sure to focus his attention on her. The ray of concentrated cold hit the golem head-on, doing a considerable bit of damage and temporarily immobilizing her. However, before he could continue the assault, Question kindly informed him through Hook’s telepathy that there was a Meteor falling towards his position.

“Magnetic Tilt!”

The jack-of-all-trades Caster unleashed an advanced Spell that diverted the flow of gravity overhead. This severely altered the trajectory of Xera’s ball of molten rock and redirected it towards where Stain and Hook were having a psych-off. The Psionic kept the slime’s attention by bombarding her with rocks and debris via his telekinetic abilities while she returned fire with poison clouds and acid sprays. It was something of a stalemate since blunt force trauma was largely useless against a slime, and toxins were easily stopped by magical barriers. Both of them were testing the other while waiting for a chance to use various trump cards. The equilibrium was broken abruptly when the stray Meteor landed between them with a thunderous crash, momentarily putting a pause to their duel. Hook was clear of the impact zone way ahead of time, but the slime was unable to fully avoid it and part of her caught fire.

Edward leapt through the resulting smoke and flames, delivering a series of pinpoint strikes with his dagger. The rapid assault destroyed six of Stain’s cores in a second. The slimy sovereign wailed and tried to nail him with a Mind Blast, but the former Spymaster locked eyes with her and countered with a Silencing Gaze. This Spy Skill’s intended function was to keep people from calling for help, but it was also quite handy in preventing Spell chanting. He exploited her moment of muted confusion by eliminating another two cores. He could’ve gone for more, but was forced to use Shadowstep to vanish in a puff of smoke in order to avoid the other shapeshifter’s Power Shot.

Boxxy growled in dissatisfaction as it lost track of its main target yet again.

Tagging Edward with Hunter’s Mark allowed the monster to be aware of the man’s rough position, but his Obfuscate Skill made it difficult to pinpoint his location. Which, at present time, seemed to be on the other side of the battlefield. As expected of the Empire’s most dangerous spy and saboteur, he was exceptionally slippery. Making matters worse, he also had excellent awareness of his surroundings. His ability to spot Boxxy’s surprise attacks was so uncanny it was almost like he had eyes on the back of-Wait, that’s it! Boxxy realized. No wonder that guy is missing!

The dossiers it recovered from Edge via Slimeface spoke of a man called Question, a blond Lightbinder whose magic allowed him to observe battlefields remotely. The Gilded Hand also had a gifted Psionic who could link them telepathically, not unlike the mental connection a Warlock shared with their familiars. Taking all of this into account, the only explanation for Question’s absence from this ‘all hands on deck’ situation was because he was remotely directing his comrades. It would certainly explain why these humans were so well-coordinated despite Boxxy’s best efforts to confuse and befuddle them.

“Claws! Stop messing with the bird and check for surveillance magic above us!”

The webstalker and archfiend were currently tangling the royal griffin called Puff busy. The arachnid was doing her best to bind its wings and feet while the meathead delivered one leaping attack after the other, all aimed at its face and head. Having received new orders, Drea cast her many eyes
skyward while still clinging to the enormous beast’s back. The first thing she saw was Xera toying with Zone. For all her ridiculous strength, speed, and fighting prowess, the Monk was having a difficult time landing a hit on the djinn. Between the demon’s extremely lifelike illusions, invisibility, and intangible mist form, the angel’s attacks ended up hitting nothing but air.

That said, Xera’s fire magic wasn’t faring much better, either. Her opponent was extremely proficient at not getting hit by Spells, either by dodging them entirely or deflecting them with her heavily-enchanted staff. Long-range magic was a major weakness of the Monk Job, so it was only natural she’d trained and geared herself to defend against it.

Drea found what she was looking for far above the dueling flyers. Her Detect Magic Skill, combined with a webstalker’s extra-sensitive eyesight, revealed the presence of a massive, otherwise invisible, eye-shaped enchantment high above the courtyard. After relaying her discovery to Boxxy, she was ordered to track the thing to its source and eliminate Question. She wasn’t sure she could since this whole ‘seeing magic’ thing was still relatively new to her, but she would certainly give it her best shot.

The spider-demon-girl leaped off the webbed up griffin’s back, cloaked herself with Clear Ice, and slipped away from the battlefield. With the bug-like nuisance gone, the beast let out a half-screech, half-roar as flames poured out of its mane, burning away the Steel Thread she left behind.

Unlike his brother, a thunderhead griffin capable of conjuring lightning at will, Puff was a flamewreath griffin imbued with fire-based magic. That troublesome bug kept dispelling its Immolation Aura every time it tried to burn it off, but with her gone, it could really run wild. Or, at least that was its intent, but Stain had other ideas.

“Mind Blast!”

Her mental magic rocked the beast’s brain, causing it to stumble and stagger.

“Thunderclap!”

Kora used this opportunity to produce a sonic shockwave by slapping all three pairs of hands together. It washed over the stunned beast, rattling its bones and blowing away its flames. The slime split herself into two equal parts and used one clone to launch the other at the griffin. The pink sludge would’ve splashed against its head if not for Zone, who swooped in and
batted away the semi-solid slime missile before it could make contact. The flying Monk wasn’t sure what this weird pink puddle was trying to do with that move, but it certainly wouldn’t have been good. Thankfully, Question saw it coming and had Hook take over as Xera’s dance partner, making this quasi-divine intervention possible. The reason he did that was simple –
even with Bandit gone, those royal griffins were still on the Gilded Hand’s side, so providing cover for them was a logical choice. Also a slightly emotional one, as he did not wish to see the man’s legacy besmirched by someone as obviously foul-minded as Stain.

It was therefore an awful shame that the expended effort was shortly proven to have been for naught. A thick beam of bright blue energy tore through the air with a loud buzz. It hit the dazed griffin in the neck, making its head explode like a volcano. The once-mighty beast’s body twitched a few more times before it collapsed on the spot with a ground-shaking thud, blood spewing from its mutilated neck stump.

*THUNK*

Some twenty meters away, Fizzy made an audible impact of her own as she fell over backwards. The strangely cone-shaped Gnomish Death Ray in her hands had performed admirably, eliminating the troublesome beast in one shot. Though frighteningly powerful, the Artifact-grade weapon was also horribly unbalanced. It was woefully inaccurate and kicked like a pissed-off wyvern. The metal golem was actually aiming at Zone and missed.

Thankfully, the house-sized beast was directly behind the intended target, so the shot wasn’t a complete waste. Its poor accuracy was far from the gadget’s biggest flaw, however. The weapon charged itself by attaching a series of hooked cables to the user’s arm, shoulder, and chest, then siphoning off a significant portion of HP and MP. It also had a tendency to backfire, which was precisely why Fizzy’s body was temporarily paralyzed.

Her Lightning Affinity and metallic body prevented her from taking additional damage from the malfunction, but it would be a short while before she was able to move.

Blok, who had been mostly acting as Mist’s bodyguard and meat shield so far, immediately moved to take advantage of the golem’s moment of weakness. The massive, axe-wielding fiend leapt over forty meters through the air with a shout of ‘Sky Splitter’ and was poised to bring his weapon
down on Fizzy, intent on cleaving her in half. In the past, the Martial Art enabled him to cut through both mithril armor and metal golems, but he’d never tried it on a target that was both at once. The demon’s blood momentarily boiled with excitement, as he was very eager to find out which was stronger – his axe or the radiant construct’s layered plating.

Unfortunately for the fiend, he never got the chance to satisfy his curiosity thanks to a massive steel ball that smashed into his side while he was still in mid-air. It knocked him off course and made him break his posture, interrupting the Martial Art. Blok landed on the ground hard, but quickly regained his footing with a shoulder roll, ready to resume his assault on the immobilized golem. He then witnessed that metal sphere unfurl itself into a bizarre amalgamation of treasure chest, spider legs, and bark-covered doppelganger that pointed a skull-tipped staff directly at his face.

“Massive Rejection!”

The monster-and-a-half unleashed a wave of concussive force, which had been massively amplified by Power Overwhelming. Dirt, mud, rocks, flowers, grass and demons – everything before the monstrous Warlock was swept away in an instant, digging out a conical trench in the castle courtyard. Boxxy hopped back towards Fizzy’s position and quickly tossed her inside its Storage so she could recover from the paralysis in safety. It was unfortunate the Gnomish Death Ray malfunctioned, but the two of them had tested the device extensively while preparing for assault and were fully aware of the risks involved. The radiant Paladin would be out of commission for several minutes, but at least she managed to permanently eliminate a high-value enemy target without getting injured. It wasn’t the most favorable outcome, but far from the worst. At least she was safe and sound, though Boxxy still had to worry about itself.

“Boss! Bitch incoming!”

As Arms crudely informed it, Zone was charging towards the shapeshifter with an attitude that could be described as a ‘murder boner.’ The Monk didn’t go for a massive high-speed swing and instead opted for a combination of fast strikes upon closing the distance. She was already sufficiently warmed up and completely ‘in the zone,’ so her barrage of strikes, kicks, swipes, and thrusts gave Boxxy no opportunity to attack.

However, unlike their last bout, the monster was not pretending anymore.

Just as Zone wished, it was giving her its full, undivided attention as it expertly dodged and evaded each attack. Its bizarre body moved in ways that only a shapeshifter could, making it extremely difficult for the angelic Monk to lay a finger on it. Her extensive experience and hastened perception allowed her to read most opponents, but it was her first time fighting a shapeshifter as exceptional as Boxxy. It was definitely comprised of muscle and bone, yet its form was so malleable it might as well have been full of air. The monster further demonstrated its body sculpting talent by growing an array of ten extra arms out of its back, each holding a grenade or a Spell Crystal of some kind. It released all of those at once, aiming at and around its opponent.

Zone responded magnificently by swatting away the vast majority of dangerous objects before they could detonate. The area around the two was enveloped by all manner of explosions, gases, and magics, creating a veritable storm of chaos with Boxxy and Zone at its eye. Neither side was willing to get close to the rampaging hazards, which shortened the distance between them. The shapeshifter effortlessly plucked a light-imbued dagger from its Storage and thrust it forward with blinding speed. It pierced the opponent’s shoulder, but she let that happen on purpose. The Monk’s superbly dense muscles clamped down on the weapon and temporarily immobilized the monster, whose impulsive greed refused to let go of the expensive item that it couldn’t pull free. This brief moment of hesitation was all Zone needed to slam her first clean hit. Her fist ploughed through its face, turning the doppelganger’s head into chunky soup. It wasn’t a fatal injury, but it hurt enough to enable the monster’s plundered Hero Skill. Its bloody neck gurgled something loosely resembling ‘Vengeance!’ as it swung Voidcaller in retaliation. The skull-tipped staff shone briefly as it smashed into Zone’s ribs hard enough to crack a few. The blow forced the Monk to back off into the air as she stitched the internal wound with a quick application of Healing Hand.

Despite the injury, regardless of the ineffective decapitation, and though the Monk herself was too focused on the fight to notice, the childish grin on her face made it abundantly clear she was having the time of her life. This was exactly what she wanted, yet, in a fit of irony, was also an unfavorable state of mind to be in. One of the distinguishing features of the Monk Job was their application of unique body-strengthening magic known simply as Ki.

Mastery of its manipulation required a still mind free of distraction, a far cry from Zone’s current condition. She was still a prolific fighter that maintained a level of focus and concentration bordering on obsession, but it was underpinned by excitement that clouded her judgement and weakened her Ki. She dove back at the creature to trade blows, but in her zeal she failed to notice that the object it threw at her wasn’t another cluster of solidified magic or a metal container for an explosive payload. It was an extremely fragile vial carrying a milky-white concoction. Even with the accelerated perception of time afforded to her by Disciple of War, the over-eager Monk failed to notice the bait and switch until it was too late to stop her arms.

Zone’s reflexes caused her to smash the fragile object with her staff, exposing the alchemical substance within to the open air. The liquid instantly expanded to several times its original volume, splashing all over the angel as she charged through it. It was a powerful, fast-acting adhesive concoction courtesy of Samulus Slyth’s personal stash and based on his secret formula. Called ‘stasis milk,’ it was a self-defense measure meant to entrap violent ruffians, and it proved effective even on someone as powerful as Zone. When the angel’s downward momentum forced her to land on the ground, she found her feet glued firmly in place and her hands stuck to her staff. This drastically reduced her ability to attack or defend.

Unfortunately for Boxxy, this lasted for only moments. Flexing her absurd strength, Zone ripped the skin and bandages off her palms as she adjusted her grip, her feet pulling chunks of stone from the paved courtyard as she charged forward once more. The stasis milk – which the Sandman had traded for with a one-of-a-kind crystal sculpture – failed to stop the Monk.

On the upside, it slowed her long enough for Boxxy to prepare its next move. It drew the Reverb Sword it obtained from Goroth’s frozen dungeon and slashed at her as she approached. She tried to grab the blade with her Ki-infused hand, unaware of the bronze-mithril alloy’s magic-disrupting properties. The ‘Spell slicer’ cut into her injured palm, nearly taking her fingers off as they gripped the edge from the sides. She thrust the heavy tip of her staff at the shapeshifter’s midsection, but its entire body snapped to the right like a rubber band. It used that momentum to pull the Reverb Sword from her grip, ducked under Jen’s sweeping kick, and reintroduced
her to the blade by stabbing at her torso. It expertly aimed to sink it between her ribs and into her heart.

However, while it did pierce the Monk’s flesh, those absurd muscles gripped the weapon before it could inflict serious injury. Her elbow came down hard, smashing into the sword and breaking the magic item in half.

Though it was partially forged of mithril, the bronze mixed in with it rendered the blade surprisingly brittle. It was inevitable it would get busted in such a high-power showdown, but it wasn’t shiny at all. Boxxy considered it a favorable trade since Zone now had a large foreign object stuck in her side. It severely limited her movements and created a window for the monster to disengage. As per usual, the shapeshifter leapt at the offered opportunity. It shifted its lower half into a wheeled chest and rolled away at top speed before the Monk could stop it.

Zone wasn’t giving up, though. She pulled the broken blade from her side, placed a Healing Hand on the wound to stop the bleeding, and gave chase with her spectral wings.

“Gotcha, bitch!”

Unfortunately for the angel, her former dance partner was raring for another go. Much like her fellow fiend’s earlier attempt, Kora dropped on Zone with a leaping attack. She tried to put both of her heels through the woman’s lovely face, but her target abruptly kicked the ground and killed her forward momentum just short of impact. The archfiend’s attack hit nothing but dirt, making yet another small crater in Watford’s castle grounds. Kora did not stop to contemplate her failure, as she instantly turned around to strike at her target.

“Ora! Ora!”

Indeed, given how she seamlessly transitioned into assaulting Zone with a flurry of fists, it was almost as if she expected that heel drop to miss.

“Ora! Ora! Ora!”

The human she was trying to fight was naturally quite displeased.

“Ora ora ora ora!”

She wanted to do battle against someone worthy of her mettle, not this brainless meathead who clearly had no idea what she was doi-

“ORARARARARARARARARARA!”

Zone suddenly found herself without the breathing room to silently berate her opponent. Though she had little difficulty deflecting the many-armed Berserker’s seemingly random punches during their first encounter, this time around her movements were completely different. She was only using the arms on her left side to throw a continuous chain of quick jabs. Each successive blow had more focus and intent than the last, the motions steadily growing sharper and more compact. This, in turn, allowed the demon’s spiked knuckles to fly towards Zone’s face with increasing velocity and frequency.

Rather than her usual avalanche of fists, these punches were more like repeated hammer strokes from a blacksmith trying to pummel a stubborn piece of metal into submission. The demon’s new approach was so radically different from the first time Zone faced her that the angel was momentarily taken aback. Her Disciple of War Skill was still spooling up after the forced opponent swap. Under such circumstances, it was only natural the Monk would find herself overwhelmed. Even with her Spirit Guardian active and deflecting as many of the blows as possible, those metal fists began connecting with her head and body before long. The unrelenting assault gradually loosened up the Monk until she was starting to resemble Kora’s punching bag, at which point the fiend finally unleashed her full might.

“ORRRAAA!”

The demon let out a powerful yell as she put all of her weight and strength behind two of her right fists. The armored knuckles collided cleanly with Zone’s face, sending her flying backwards. The Monk skid across the ground for a few meters before managing to steady herself by unfurling her golden wings. She looked at the red-skinned woman with a cold glare, though its severity was somewhat diminished by the two fist-shaped imprints on her cheek and forehead.

“How ya like me now, boob-wrap?!”

Zone readjusted the grip on her staff, cracked her neck, and spat out a bloodied tooth before responding with a grin of her own. Though Boxxy
was still her ‘main course’ without question, she could no longer ignore this unexpectedly juicy ‘appetizer.’ Kora briefly raised her bloodstained fists in triumph before resuming her combat stance. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t help but celebrate. The human had finally stopped giving her the runaround and was taking her seriously, which filled the fiend with an unmatched sense of pride and accomplishment.

Before the two battle junkies could commence beating the crap out of each other, however, a scantily-clad, blue-skinned woman flew between them.

She was running for her life from an angry griffon that was slightly on fire and quite literally hot on her heels. Xera had grown a bit full of herself since she finished off the other one and challenged its ‘big brother’ without thinking things through. She had failed to take into account that the one she stumbled across earlier was not only heavily injured, but also of a lower rank of species. The two were so far apart that they couldn’t even compare.

The royal thunderhead griffin called Fluffles was a monster well beyond its lesser brethren. It was so tough that it unflinchingly weathered Fireballs, Infernos, Magma Missiles, Scorching Rays, and any other magic the djinn could throw at it. Xera even called out her Molten Guardian in an attempt to buy time, but the four-legged, animated pile of magma was unceremoniously trampled into the ground. The griffin was also a superbly fast flier and a deceptively nimble runner, easily catching up to the overconfident demoness. Its lightning-imbued talons and beak would also rip right through her Mist Form, making it much harder for her to dodge its attacks. Frankly speaking, the only reason it hadn’t eliminated her yet was because its weight and wingspan made turning around in mid-air a difficult task. It was a fault that the perpetually floating djinn did not have, but one she was eager to exploit.

Xera’s luck abruptly ran out when she tried to sidestep the griffin’s lunging swipe. She somehow avoided the charge, but its agile tail swung around like a whip and smacked her into the ground. The half-bird half-lion shifted its weight and stepped on the grounded djinn with its hind paw, crushing her underneath all of its weight before she could react. Thinking her dead, Fluffles let out a satisfied grunt and turned its attention to its next target –
the pink thing that most likely orchestrated its master’s untimely demise.

However, despite being crushed quite literally like an annoying insect, Xera wasn’t quite out of the fight just yet. Her relatively weak and fragile body
would have turned to mush under normal circumstances, but Boxxy’s Soul Link Skill had transferred 30% of the immense damage to Kora. The archfiend probably didn’t appreciate that since she was in the middle of fighting Zone, but the sudden HP loss caused a power spike in her Berserker Skills. This allowed her to momentarily surpass the Monk’s expectations and deck her in the jaw with an extremely satisfying left hook that knocked the angel to the ground once again.

Drea was already out of Soul Link’s effective range of 100 meters, so she didn’t factor into this equation.

Fluffles the royal griffin pounced on Stain, eager to exact its revenge. The overmind slime was still persistently going after Hook, but had to give up on that endeavor when she sensed the massive creature’s approach. She instantly split her body into four equal pieces, which scattered out of the way of the beast’s stomp. This confused the griffin, as it had never seen slimes do that. Capitalizing on the moment of hesitation, Stain unleashed a barrage of Acid Javelin Spells that peppered the beast’s fur and feathers from all sides. Feeling its body burn all over made the griffin let out a startled cry. Even though the damage was minor, the pain was not. It frantically tried to shake off the offending substance, but when it attempted to readjust its footing, it slipped and fell on its side with a loud crash. It had failed to notice that Stain’s multiple bodies had already covered the entire area with a layer of sinfully slippery oil, courtesy of her Liquid Mimicry.

The slime gave the beast a parting gift in the form of a Mind Blast before resuming her pursuit of the Psionic.

Humiliated, off-balance, enraged, and mind reeling from the impact of that Spell, the griffin could do little to prevent a certain someone from slamming into its flank. The impact’s force was great enough to send ripples across the beast’s fur and feathers, so it was no surprise the person that caused it was heavily injured.

“Ugh, damn that cheeky bastard,” Edward groaned as he clutched his broken ribs. “Question, you saw that, right?”

“I did indeed,” replied the voice in his head. “The root that tripped you up was not there by accident. Morningwood tried to be subtle, but it’s safe to assume it can manipulate plants.”

Boxxy was indeed the one who had sent the former Spymaster flying, an achievement only made possible because of that one seemingly accidental trip. The man had to admit, he’d never faced an opponent with this many tricks. Fighting a shapeshifter was bad enough, but this was something else completely. It had total control over its body, allowing for a near infinite variation in attack pattern. That was without even considering the ability to produce all manner of weaponry, either by forging it out of its own body or manifesting it out of its pocket dimension. The wide array of Skills and Spells under its command was also nothing to be underestimated.

Even someone as experienced as Edward found it nigh-impossible to cope with that many unexpected attacks. In all honesty, he would’ve already fallen victim to one trick or another if not for three vital assets. The first was his Ultimate Skill, Eyes of Truth, which allowed him to recognize his opponent even if it tried masquerading as his allies or used body doubles. It also saw through illusions and hallucinations created through magic.

Edward’s second trump card was his enchanted dragonhide armor, which did a great job of dispersing impacts and deflecting blades. The third, and perhaps most important, was his ever-helpful eye in the sky.

“Guided ice shots, parry them!”

No sooner did Question utter that warning than a series of frozen arrows came streaking towards Edward from the cloud of smoke he had been tossed out of just moments ago. The Rogue unthinkingly followed his subordinate’s advice and began deflecting the enchanted projectiles with his daggers. They always flew towards the middle of his chest, so he was able to intercept them easily enough.

“Bomb incoming!”

A weirdly-shaped, canister-tipped arrow was mixed in with the frozen ones.

Edward dodged it, causing it to hit and explode against the griffin at his back. This seemed to wake the beast up, as it began to stir and rise to its feet. Leaving Fluffles behind, Edward used Question’s aid to narrowly avoid another chain of Reality Slash Spells. Seemingly frustrated at the ineffectiveness of its ranged attacks, Boxxy lunged out of the smoke. Its right arm and the enchanted sword in its grip swung at Edward like a blade-tipped whip. Yet, the man already knew this was a Mirror Image, so he didn’t hesitate to slice off the elongated appendage while nailing the body
double with a poison-coated throwing knife to the face. Though these imitations had deceptively strong and nimble bodies, they lacked the real thing’s reaction time and toxin resistance.

“From below, jump!”

The one, true Boxxy erupted from the abused soil in a form resembling a gigantic bear trap complete with massive steel teeth, but Edward was already airborne. However, while his attention was focused on one shapeshifter, another was already waiting for him in the air.

“Scorching Ray!”

Beaten, battered, and cloaked with Invisibility, Xera hit the Spymaster with a fiery beam from above. One would incorrectly think this wouldn’t do much against a man wearing a suit of literal dragon skin, and they would normally be correct. However, the demoness was a djinn with the Penetration Expertise Skill, allowing her magic to bypass a portion of her target’s resistances. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was enough to make Edward let out a pained yell as he was pushed into the ground by the Spell’s force. He would’ve fallen right into Boxxy’s waiting jaws, but Bloknalthoz interfered. The fiend leaped through the air, plucking the Spymaster out of harm’s way and carrying him off to Mist’s side. The old Caster had demonstrated the wide array of magic at his disposal by establishing a defensive perimeter. Walls of ice and stone defended him from ground-based attacks while a net of crackling lightning covered him from above.

He had also conjured up some extra bodyguards in the shape of a Cryomancer’s Glacial Guardian and a Molten Guardian of his own. The latter had a lizard-like appearance nearly identical to Xera’s, while the former was more of a jagged ice crystal with four spike-tipped legs coming out of its sides.

Boxxy let out a frustrated hiss at having its meal denied yet again, but it couldn’t allow itself to grow impatient. It focused its malice and frustration towards securing some… additional help. It didn’t have much time to make nefarious plots right now, though, as Bloknalthoz returned swinging his axe around. The way he was handling that stupidly heavy thing as if it was made of paper was dangerous enough on its own, but the lightning crackling across it was far more concerning. It would appear Mist had given
the weapon a temporary enchantment through a Shaman Spell before sending his fiend to keep the Gilded Hand’s primary threat busy.

Edward was currently sitting behind the cover the old man had provided, chugging a Rejuvenation Potion. The body blow that sent him flying combined with being cooked inside his armor by that flying bint had greatly diminished his HP. He could have had Mist heal him with magic, but the old man’s time and MP was better spent on other endeavors. Besides, his high-Level Alchemical Fortitude allowed him to drink three of these without issue. It gave him a lot more leeway than regular people, who could only handle one dose of the highly potent mixture per day without succumbing to potion sickness. It was still a last resort since, as powerful as those concoctions were, they drastically whittled away at however many years his extended lifespan had left.

“Edward, my boy, I do hope you have a plan,” said Mist through ragged breaths.

“I kind of do, actually. That freak won’t be able to keep up with me for long. He’s bound to run out of MP sooner or later. When that happens, he’ll be mine.”

“It better be sooner, because my own mana is draining quickly. I won’t be able to keep this up much longer.”

“Everyone be advised, Inquisition forces are moving in on your position from the south and east.”

Edward and Mist glanced towards the directions Question mentioned. They spotted a total of four griffins bearing the Inquisition’s insignia upon their chests. Those self-righteous bastards were undoubtedly sending ground forces as well, converging onto the loudest part of the city.

“Fucking wonderful,” the leader groaned.

The Inquisition’s appearance was not good, as the Gilded Hand was probably higher on their shit list than a bunch of monsters. Even worse, the shapeshifters could easily slip into their ranks in the confusion and use their numbers to overwhelm and eliminate the rogue operatives. In fact, that may have been their goal all along.

“Should we fall back through a Gate?” Mist offered.

“And go where, exactly? We have too few safehouses in the area, and they probably have a way to track it.”

While great for instantaneously transporting multiple people over great distances, the Gate Spell left behind an invisible disturbance, a sort of spatial scar. It was possible to extrapolate the Spell’s destination if one used the right Skill or magic tool. If said person also had access to teleportation magic, they would be able to follow almost immediately. Edward had no idea whether Boxxy had access to such things, but it wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest given the ridiculous range of abilities and equipment it had at its disposal. Even if that monster couldn’t, a religious movement as large as the Inquisition would surely have magic users capable of giving chase.

“Besides,” he added, “I doubt that stalker demon would let us get away with-! … Oh, shit.”

Realizing something was horribly amiss, the grizzled spy switched his focus to the voice at the back of his head.

“Question! Do you have eyes on the enemy stalker?!”

“She’s currently engaging Fluffles.”

The Spymaster looked towards the griffin in question, and a glimmering, many-limbed woman was indeed clawing away at it. However, his special eyes revealed that was not the legitimate article.

“That’s a body double with some kind of illusion on it! The real one is not here!”

“What? So then where’s- Oh… Clever girl.”

“Question? Question!”

“He’s gone, Edward,” Hook declared. “I just lost his mental connection.

He’s either unconscious or-”

“Damn it all!”

It was bad enough they lost Edge and Bandit in such a shameful way, but Edward and his people were only able to hold their own thanks to Question calling out all of the enemy’s movements. Now that he was gone, the Spymaster had only three Gilded Hand members to work with. Four, if one
were to count the rampaging griffin, but that beast would eventually become a liability now that it was no longer leashed. Reinforcements were extremely unlikely, as many of their surviving operatives were either out on assignments or bombed to pieces. It was a horrible understatement to say the Gilded Hand’s current situation was dire. Yet, one of them seemed oddly unperturbed by this state of affairs, as she had been lost in her own little world this entire time.

“Haaah, haaah, haaah.”

“Huff! Huff! Huff!”

Zone and Kora were currently standing several meters from one another, each breathing heavily. The archfiend had taken one too many Stifling Palms from her opponent, which made it difficult for oxygen to circulate within her body. Though her conjured body didn’t require all the things mortals did, air was an inescapable necessity. Her limbs felt incredibly heavy as if she was dead tired, despite the fact that it had only been a few minutes since the duel started. Not to mention that two of her left arms and one of her rights were bent at weird angles, making it clear they had been broken and rendered useless.

Even though the archfiend appeared to have the upper hand at first, the battle steadily turned against her. That was because she had engaged a Level 100 Disciple of War in one-on-one melee combat. Zone’s accelerated perception and reactions allowed her to easily study and adapt to the demon’s new combat style, and Kora was no longer able to land any clean hits once she had. This problem was further exacerbated by the fact that the more damage the demon took, the more she reverted to her primal, wild, unfocused way of fighting. While it felt more comfortable and natural, Zone had already demonstrated that approach to be woefully ineffective.

To Kora’s credit, it hadn’t been easy for the Monk to gain control of the duel. Her Ki-enhancing clothes were torn in several places, and both her face and body were covered with bruises. She couldn’t even see out of her left eye due to the horrendous swelling surrounding it, but the other one was more than enough. She had also lost her Artifact-grade staff at some point, forcing her to rely solely on her fists and feet. They were still deadly weapons in and of themselves, but their much shorter range put her at a disadvantage against the much taller opponent. Though it seemed a
foregone conclusion, Zone could not deny that this was a good fight. It had been a long time since she had been pushed this far and felt so alive, but it wasn’t enough. Though the demon possessed strength and had made an honest effort to learn to harness it, she ultimately lacked discipline. Zone had already seen everything Kora had to offer, meaning it was now time to put her down for good and move onto bigger, better, and Boxxy-er opponents.

“Pain Wave!”

The Monk performed a bare-handed Martial Art by twisting her body around and thrusting her left palm towards Kora. A barely visible ripple travelled through the air and washed over the demon, causing her to grit her teeth as all of her injuries began hurting like never before. The technique did not create wounds, but aggravated already existing injuries. Fiends were exceptional when it came to withstanding pain, so it was nowhere near as big a distraction as one might expect. However, it was still enough to make Kora momentarily stop moving, which was what Zone had been aiming at.

The Monk dashed towards her enemy before she could react and delivered a flurry of punches to her gut. This made the towering demon lurch forward, bringing her chin within striking distance of the angel’s fists. Zone then suddenly realized that the fiend wasn’t going down because of those body blows. She was falling on the Monk with the intent of pinning her to the ground. Realizing her goal, the smaller fighter immediately gave up on uppercutting the mountain of muscle and dodged to her right to avoid getting trapped beneath it.

She failed to get away. Kora’s only unbroken left arm reached out and grabbed her by the hand moments before she hit the ground. Her vice-like grip tightened, threatening to crush the angel’s wrist. Zone lifted her other hand into the air and was about to pummel the fiend’s arm to make her let go, but she hesitated for the briefest moment when she saw Kora’s face. It was still smiling, but in a way subtly different from before. It wasn’t the cocky grin she had back in Azurvale, nor was it the self-satisfied smirk she had at the start of this fight. It was a sad, disappointed, close-eyed smile that seemed to say louder than words, ‘I lost.’ A fiend had just silently admitted defeat. The absurdity of this situation broke Zone out of her battle-trance, allowing her to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

She looked to her side just in time to see a spider-legged doppelchester finish its arcane incantation while staring directly at her.

“Demonate.”

Kora’s body detonated, spewing out a massive column of bright green flames in the process. The demonic blaze was so bright and hot that it drew the attention of everyone on the battlefield and beyond – man and monster alike. When the flames and smoke cleared up several seconds later, all that was left of the two female fighters were a small glass crater and a charred left arm burned to the bone.

“Sir. We lost Zone.”

Edward really did not need to hear Hook’s words. By the Gods, he wished it wasn’t so, but there was no denying it. Not after seeing it with his own eyes.

He grabbed hold of Mist’s shoulder, and the two shared some heavy looks.

They were out of options, and neither man needed to say a single word to know what needed to be done next. It was time to use their final trump card.

It was the last resort of the truly desperate, one that could not be performed by anyone who valued their life or the lives of others. Even Boxxy would not entertain the idea of using this method, mostly because it was a guaranteed death sentence. Mist had no such fears. He had lived long enough – longer than even he would’ve expected. Frankly speaking, he was so old he could drop dead at any moment. However, he did not want to pass away quietly like some geriatric geezer. He wanted his death to mean something, to have value. If he was going to go out, he would gladly spend what little life he had left to take his enemies along with him.

Granted, it wasn’t going to be as destructive as the Calamity he and Edward had failed to weaponize, but unleashing the Demon King upon the mortal realm would surely come close.

Part Six

Summoning an Overlord was generally believed to require a lengthy, complicated ritual that involved specific materials, a particular sacrifice, and a lot of nonsensical chanting. While that most certainly was the case, there existed obscure alternatives to the so-called Offerings. These back doors, loopholes, and shortcuts were so obscure that even a Level 10

Demonology Skill wouldn’t reveal them. Uncovering these methods usually required a whole lot of time, an exorbitant amount of resources, and a distinct lack of moral fiber. Luckily, Mist had all of those in spades.

However, even though he had a way to bypass the obnoxiously long rituals, the living fossil still had to observe proper etiquette.

1-800-7355-9687-7685

*Beep ... Beep ... Bee-*

“Hello. You have reached Demons ‘R’ Us. My name is Suzy, and I’ll be your liaison for today.”

A voice flowed into his mind. It was a silky-smooth, shockingly feminine tone that any man would be extremely delighted to hear whisper sweet words to him late at night. Mist was no different, though he kept that opinion to himself. This wasn’t that sort of call.

“It’s Wyndam Clinton,” the old man introduced himself.

“Well, well, well! The prodigal bastard returns! ‘Sup, Wynnie?”

“I’m in a rush. I need to make an urgent summoning appointment.

“Shame. Let’s hear it, then.”

“Overlord Weaxohn the All-Knowing.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Wynnie, but no can do. The boss has his eyes full and isn’t taking appointments.”

That wasn’t to say that Weaxohn couldn’t be summoned anyway, but it was extremely ill-advised. Rather than fly into a murderous rampage like Nagnamor, he was far more likely to simply eliminate the arrogant summoner with surgical precision, then blip himself back to the Beyond.

His time was far too valuable for such distractions. Demons ‘R’ Us required the Demon King’s authority to make and enforce its countless contracts, not to mention that their CEO was responsible for maintaining the devils’

information network.

“He’ll take one from me,” Mist insisted. “I have the Mortem Vortum.”

“… For real? And it’s fully charged?”

“Would I be calling if it wasn’t, ya daft girl?! Now hurry up!”

“Fine, fine. Gimme a sec.”

*Tak taktak takakakakatak takatak*

“Alright, and what special instruction-”

“Kill everyone who does not bare the Gilded Hand upon their Status. It matters not if they are man, demon, or monster – wipe them all out!”

Ideally, Mist would’ve provided a specific lists of targets, but he had neither the time nor necessary information to do so. That blanket statement would have to do. The demoness on the other end of the line began processing the request while the old man tended to his magical defenses. This was still a battlefield, and he had to be extra careful not to lose his life before his purpose was achieved. Boxxy’s Mirror Images weren’t making it easy. The body doubles had been harassing him throughout the battle with their bows and Spells, preventing him from fully supporting his comrades. He must have eliminated at least four of the flesh-dolls so far, yet arrows and magic projectiles kept clashing against his layered defenses. Not the ideal situation to be on hold with devil-support, to say the least. However, once those arrangements were made, Mist would instantly draw out Weaxohn with the item he mentioned to Suzy. It was a profane weapon that grew in power every time it ended a sentient life, up to a point. Once fully charged, Mortem Vortum’s wielder could use it to form a one-time contract with any demonic entity. As the ultimate embodiment of the world’s pride and arrogance, Overlord Weaxohn could not resist the call, nor would he deviate from Mist’s instructions.

“You’re all set, Wynnie,” reported Suzy. “On behalf of everyone here at Demons ‘R’ Us, we want to thank you for using our services. We also wish to remind you that your standard issue summoning contract will be rendered
null and void upon your imminent demise. Should you wish to reestablish your contracts in the event of zombification, resurrection, or other means of escaping death, do not hesitate to call. Thank you, and have a swift end.”

The devil calling herself Suzy delivered her speech in a cheerful and professional manner, but Mist had stopped paying attention after the

‘You’re all set’ part. He reached into his Item Box and retrieved Mortem Vortum. Anyone with half a brain could instantly tell there was something very wrong about that slightly curved dagger. Its blade was so black it seemed to suck in the light, its handle was covered in living, pulsating flesh, and it had a red, lizard-like eye embedded in the middle. Mist stared into the twitching iris, which blinked back at him as if studying him. Gritting his teeth and gripping the meaty handle with both hands, the old man drove the cursed blade into his own chest, piercing his heart in one clean stroke. The thing hissed and screeched as it greedily soaked up Mist’s blood. That one life given willingly, combined with the hundreds claimed forcibly, triggered the Phantasmal-grade weapon’s greatest ability.

Wyndam Clinton was instantly ripped apart by a surge of crackling energy that erupted from his chest and flew towards the noon sky like a spear trying to pierce the heavens. And then, much to the growing shock and horror of anyone watching, it succeeded.

“Your attention, mortals.”

A dark, deep, rumbling voice echoed across Watford as an unidentified shadow blocked out the sun, turning day to dusk in a matter of seconds.

“I bring dark tidings, from the World Beyond the Veil.”

The darkness continued to spread, greedily soaking up any stray rays of sunlight that escaped its grasp.

“Your future is grim. Your sanity eclipsed. Your death presaged.”

Be it stars, clouds, or moons, nothing could be seen above the rapidly waking city aside from an all-encompassing void.

“The worst… has come to pass!”

With a final ear-splitting yell, a massive eye appeared out of the nothingness, its alien gaze falling upon the land and sea. In that instant,

Watford became an unspeakable world of nightmares. Fragile minds were instantly driven mad by dread and despair. Screams filled the air as men, women, and children began killing each other and themselves en masse.

Only the Inquisition seemed to retain their senses as the faith and duty that bound them together also shielded them from this corrupting influence. The Priests flew into action, calling upon Teresa’s divine guidance to open the eyes of the afflicted while the Paladins and Monks tried to subdue them with non-lethal force.

Their sudden and desperate struggle only got worse as reality itself began to fray and tear, allowing deadly creatures shrouded in nightmare to seep through the cracks. The darkened sky was filled with otherworldly eyes, smaller than the first, yet seemingly countless in their number. They rained narrow beams of pure force onto the city below as they attempted to carve up any remaining pockets of resistance. The situation continued to deteriorate as more of Weaxohn’s being invaded the mortal realm. Sixteen segmented tentacles the size of siege towers poked through the all-encompassing void. They twisted and coiled as they manipulated gravity to pull chunks of buildings from the ground, then flung them at whatever structures remained.

Only Watford’s castle gardens were spared from the Overlord’s rain of destruction. The same couldn’t be said of his otherworldly minions, which beset Boxxy and Stain on all sides. The shapeshifter identified these creatures as rift walkers, feral demons born from pure terror. Though cloaked in obscuring darkness, their true forms were of grotesque stick-things with any number of limbs. They were frail and weak, but freely wielded spatial magic for both attack and defense. Landing a hit on them was a daunting task with the way they flickered in and out of existence, and their gangly appendages could rip clean through most forms of solid matter with only a touch. Being shapeshifters, Boxxy and Stain were not as vulnerable to getting a head or arm lopped off, but their assailants’ unstable nature made them incredibly difficult to deal with. That wasn’t even taking into account the massive eyeball directly overhead. The overmind slime could ignore it, but the doppelganger nearly buckled from the first wave of psychic pressure released from the Overlord’s sudden and unexpected appearance. The shapeshifter hated to admit it, but Edward’s lackey had prepared quite the secret weapon.

However, Boxxy had brought one or two of its own.

“AAAMBROOOOSIAAAAAA!”

Despite being swarmed by rift walkers, the monster managed to find a few precious moments to shout with all its might. The chaotic cacophony caused by the Overlord’s ongoing assault was momentarily drowned out by a deafening rumble from underneath. A massive wall of bark and wood sprouted from the soil, forming a tree-shaped protective shell around Boxxy. Several glowing blue flowers sprouted along the hollow trunk’s interior as the head of Ambrosia’s spriggan vessel emerged from the ground. She had been hiding there this entire time at the shapeshifter’s request. It judged that, between Mist and Hook, the enemy would surely identify the remote nature of the tree-woman’s consciousness and figure out a way to sever it. The dryad wouldn’t die or anything, but she’d cease to be a factor in the battle quite quickly.

Thus, Boxxy kept her in reserve until now, though that didn’t mean she hadn’t played a part. Ambrosia used her gift for manipulating ambient mana to draw magical energy from deep beneath the ground and discretely channel it into the shapeshifter whenever it had a chance to grab one of her
burrowed roots. The MP gained from transfer, as well as the extra it managed to absorb from the sun thanks to Hylt Metabolism, allowed the monster to continuously use Spells and Skills without worrying about running dry. It would clearly have to be more economical now that the sky was dark and the dryad was out of the bag.

“Art thou unharmed, milord?”

Ambrosia’s concerns were a little more immediate.

“I’ll live. Just make sure none of the demons find their way in here.”

“I shall endeavor to do so, milord. What of thine followers?”

“They’re already gone.”

Weaxohn had used his authority as the Demon King to banish all summoned familiars back to the Beyond in compliance with Mist’s instructions, including Claws, Snack, and Mist’s axe-wielding fiend. Arms would’ve been gone too if her master hadn’t blown her up in Zone’s face, so that had been a worthwhile trade. Unfortunately, the lack of summoned minions meant that escape with Transfamiliar ceased to be an option. It was at times like these that Boxxy really wished it knew the Gate Spell. Though, on second thought, it was likely that neither translocation nor teleportation would work with this many bloody rift walkers around. Their mere presence disrupted spatial magic to the point of rendering it unusable.

However, the crafty shapeshifter had a feeling there was one piece of logic-defying magic that could still conjure a portal.

There was no time for hesitation. Ambrosia’s regenerating wall of Ironbark was slowly losing out to the rabid swarm of rift walkers cutting their way through it. Boxxy opened its pocket dimension in order to retrieve the Atlas of Dreams. It only had moments to spare before heavy spatial interference collapsed the rift, but it turned out there was no need to rush. As if sensing its owner’s intent, the brilliant pink gem popped out of the Storage portal the instant it was opened and landed right into Boxxy’s open hand. By this point the monster was beyond questioning its inexplicable movements and simply carried on with its final contingency plan. Nichelle’s Divine item had regained its shiny splendor approximately five days after its dry run.

That same experiment also revealed that it needed a charge of exactly 55,555 MP in order to activate. Boxxy had used that information to steadily
fill the gem to roughly 1% short of full, which it had clearly retained given all the way it glowed and vibrated. The monster had no idea what practical use it might have on a mission like this, but it felt confident it would figure something out should the need arise.

Well, the need had arisen, and something was indeed figured out. The Hero gripped its Divine treasure and poured in the last 500-ish MP it needed. The gem burst with concussive force like before, rattling the wooden bunker created by Ambrosia’s Big Tree Skill. Not the most imaginative name for such a powerful ability, but Boxxy could not complain about its effectiveness. The hollow trunk managed to hold out long enough for the Atlas to conjure up a new ‘dream.’ Boxxy intended to hide inside until Weaxohn’s time ran out, but hesitated. Why was the scenery inside so white? It was fairly certain it wouldn’t get that weird beach again, but this didn’t seem right. On second thought, what if the rift walkers followed it inside? Or, worse, collapsed the portal? What if the monsters in there were worse? Perhaps jumping in there wasn’t the smartest idea. No, it was surely better than waiting out here.

Unfortunately, the creature hesitated a little too long. The dryad’s safe space was enveloped by a gravitational vortex that slammed Boxxy into the domed ceiling. The Ironbark gave way under the powerful pull and the rift walkers’ continued assault and split apart. The monster would’ve been thrown into the dark sky along with the debris if not for Ambrosia. The dryad urgently threw up a flexible root, and the monster stretched an arm to grab hold of it. The monster hung on while its body was dragged upward, but this was a momentary measure. This wasn’t a random attack, but a conscious effort from the Overlord above, who sensed the burst of divine energy released by the Atlas. Both the spriggan and soil around her were being ripped out of the ground as Weaxohn willed it. Boxxy tried to shout something towards Ambrosia, but only blood and gurgling came out of its mouth as an eye beam from above punched a fist-sized hole in its torso. The dryad nevertheless put two together and flung the creature into the shimmering pink portal.

[You have entered the Snowglobe instant dungeon.]

Boxxy was instantly assaulted by a blizzard so strong it made the Palace of the Crystal Maiden seem like a refreshing spring morning. It landed in
waist-deep snow that made it extremely difficult to move around. Both its eyes and MLG became overloaded with white as the hectic winds tossed around lumps of frozen water. The shapeshifter was left dazed and confused, but still managed to take a Major Healing Potion from its Storage. This helped confirm the space in here was stable, and also helped the monster recover from its heavy injuries. It sustained a lot of damage back there, and its Mend Flesh couldn’t keep up. The last thing it needed was for some random monster to finish it off. It rose to its feet and turned around to find that Ambrosia had made it inside as well, albeit not in one piece. She was missing an arm and her bark was severely cracked, but she was more confused than injured.

“Milord? Where is this pla-”

The spriggan’s wooden face froze mid-sentence just as a large blade erupted from between her eyes. The enchanted edge sliced upwards, splitting her head in two and leaving her battered body completely immobile.

“Ambrosia? What happened?”

Boxxy was currently trying to pierce the curtain of white blocking its vision, the howling winds making it hard to hear much of anything. It could only make out Ambrosia’s silhouette against the shimmering portal behind her, so it couldn’t tell she had just been killed with a perfectly executed Assassinate. Yet, when the unseen assailant tried to do the same to it, the shapeshifter abruptly kicked up a wall of snow to block his vision and swung a mithril dagger in a scythe-like motion. It was as surprising as a counter-ambush could get, yet Edward effortlessly evaded the blow.

“Heh. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy,” he muttered under his breath.

‘Eliminate the primary threat while it’s distracted by the Overlord’s appearance.’ This had been the Spymaster’s plan ever since Mist resolved to sacrifice himself. He knew what the old man’s soul-sucking knife was capable of and could tell he was about to use it. However, he wasn’t mentally prepared to stand under Weaxohn’s gaze. Though the rift walkers ignored him in accordance with the Overlord’s will, it had taken Edward a while to recover from the initial, indiscriminate burst of psychic pressure.

By then, Boxxy had already taken cover with Ambrosia and then escaped to this strange place moments later.

Edward naturally gave chase when the gravity vortex stopped moments later. He assumed the monster was making an escape through some obscure form of teleportation. He realized from the instant dungeon message this probably wasn’t the case, but that didn’t change his objective. The Spymaster expected that the creature and its mysterious ally likely felt safe and relieved to escape the waking nightmare that had befallen Watford, leaving them vulnerable to an ambush. Unfortunately, he was only half right. Boxxy never let its guard down outside its lair. More importantly, it succeeded in tagging its enemy with its ‘bronzescreen’ grenade earlier in the battle. Though the Spymaster’s Obfuscate Skill rendered him and his equipment invisible to Boxxy’s MLG, the magic-scrambling powder stuck to his cloak stood out like a sore-thumb, just as intended.

The old warmonger didn’t have time to ponder the specifics, nor was he discouraged that the element of surprise was no longer on his side. He had to strike at the damnable creature while he still had the chance. Though its shape had changed drastically, deep down it was still that retarded box he ran into almost a year ago. The same thing that was undoubtedly responsible for all the things Edward had lost since then. The war, his high standing with the Imperial court, a significant portion of his men, and now most of his closest comrades – all gone because of one insufferable gnat that slipped through his fingers. Such an existence could no longer be permitted to continue, and he would see it ended if it killed him.

Though, he wouldn’t rush in blindly. The shapeshifter threw open its Storage and peppered the area in front of it with explosives, but Edward was already expecting that. He used his Shadowstep to vanish in a puff of smoke and instantly reappear behind the monster.

“Backbiter!”

Boxxy covered its vulnerable backside in a hylt tree’s Ironbark at the last moment, but that didn’t stop the Spymaster’s dagger-based Martial Art from ripping right through it, sinking the weapon deep into the monster’s back.

[Your spine has been injured. HP -1,723.]

[You have been violently electrocuted. HP -1,346.]

[You have resisted a stun.]

[Your Skills have been disabled for 3 seconds.]

The monster hissed and screamed as pain unlike anything it had experienced shot through its body. Every living creature had a weak spot, and doppelgangers were no exception. Its elemental and physical vulnerabilities targeted in a single masterstroke, the creature could do little but lash out wildly. Instantly reverting to its base creeper form, it somehow managed to kick Edward in the gut with enough force to lift him off the ground and send him crashing into a nearby snowbank.

[You have inflicted blunt force trauma. Target HP -310.]

The Spymaster groaned again, more in frustration than pain. He was sure the high-grade electrified oil coating his blade would be enough to immobilize the shapeshifter, but he had overestimated its effectiveness and took a blow he shouldn’t have. Still, his opponent would only be vulnerable for three seconds, so he wasted no time in chasing after it. The creature naturally wanted to avoid fighting until its Skills returned, but that didn’t mean it would run away just yet. It had other magic it could leverage.

“Mind Blast!”

[Your target has resisted a stun.]

Unfortunately, it chose the wrong incantation, as Edward’s Nerves of Steel Skill allowed him to block a single incapacitating mental effect once every twenty seconds. Boxxy didn’t know that, so it gave up on Domination and moved onto Ruin.

“Ebonf-!”

The Spymaster interrupted it with a flash of his Silencing Gaze, giving him just enough of a gap to close the distance. At this point, Boxxy finally decided now was a good time to leg it and promptly hopped backwards.

Though the waist-high snow was limiting its movements, the same could be said for its opponent. Edward threw a number of small knives at the retreating doppelganger, each coated with the same shocking substance as his primary weapon. The monster ducked under the snow in a magnificent display of adaptability, causing the projectiles to hit nothing but white powder. This allowed Edward to catch up to it, but the three seconds were
already up. Boxxy erupted from its hiding spot to meet him, gripping a mithril dagger in one hand and a jeweled rapier in the other while covering its skin in a layer of bouncewood to counter any additional electrical interference. It caught the Spymaster’s strike with the short blade while stabbing at him with the other.

Normally, the blow’s angle and direction would have made the sharp tip slide off the spy’s dragonhide armor, but Boxxy unleashed something new –
something completely beyond the Spymaster’s expectations.

“Vengeance!”

The rapier shone brightly as it rose into the air, empowered in direct proportion to the devastating stab in the back it received seconds earlier.

The deadly thrust ripped through the nigh-indestructible armor, just like how the Hero of the Hammer used it to take off Fizzy’s left arm. It caught Edward completely by surprise, though he managed to twist his body away at the last moment and turned a grievous injury into a moderate flesh wound. The Spymaster fell back, his focus and resolve shaken by the inexplicable use of a divine Skill he was very familiar with. This wasn’t the first time Boxxy resorted to it in this battle, but he didn’t know that. The dust and smoke surrounding its duel with Zone made it impossible for anyone else to tell Vengeance was used. The Monk recognized it, of course, but she was too lost in her own head to report it.

Nevertheless, the human momentarily put the absurdity of this matter out of his mind and concentrated solely on defeating the nonsensical entity in front of him. He rushed forward, side-stepped Boxxy’s rapier, blocked its dagger with one hand, and thrust the other one into the creature’s chest with the other.

“Quivering Palm!”

A destructive shockwave rippled across the monster’s flesh, but the rubbery bouncewood skin absorbed most of it. The shapeshifter extended its neck and widened its vertical maw in an attempt to crush Edward’s skull between its teeth. The man moved his head out of the way at the last moment, though the monster’s fangs still took off a piece of his ear. He kicked off the monster’s chest, putting some distance between the two of them. Fighting in melee range was one thing, but he had to avoid getting caught point blank at
all costs. Boxxy was exceptionally adept at immobilizing humans with its malleable body and superior strength, so giving it the option of grappling was not a smart play.

Not that distance would dissuade Boxxy from trying. It stretched out its arm towards Edward in a whipping motion while Metal Mimicry coated its fist in steel to produce an improvised flail. Edward effortlessly dodged the wide swing and the downward swipe of some stupidly sharp claws from its other arm. Its other, other arm burst out of the snow and attempted to grab the Spymaster, but he deftly cut it off with a single, precise motion. He silenced the monster’s chanting with another gaze, shot it with a ball of pressurized air with a Wind Thrust palm technique to knock it off balance, and performed a Fan of Knives, riddling the monster with seven ethereal copies of his dagger. Sadly, these inferior duplicates did not have the original’s shocking coating, but damage was damage.

The shapeshifter decided to change its approach and created a Mirror Image, which he sent diving into the snow. At least, that’s what he wanted Edward to think, when in reality the body double remained behind. This did not confuse the Spymaster in the slightest, as he quickly disabled the fake one with a paralyzing dart to the body and lunged at the spot where the real one was burrowing through the snow. Except Boxxy knew that Edward knew that Mirror Image was a decoy, so it jumped out of cover in that moment and aimed Winter’s Bite directly at the airborne spy.

“Shrapnel Shot!”

The Ranger Martial Art caused the enchanted ice arrow to burst into tiny fragments upon its release. It barely did any damage, but the concussive force was enough to throw Edward several meters into the air. A guided Power Shot followed afterwards, but the experienced Spymaster deflected it with his blade. Unperturbed, Boxxy fired off another two projectiles to occupy the human’s hands while a third arm tossed a Spell Crystal near his estimated landing spot. It contained a supercharged Momentum Anomaly that Edward avoided by using Air Step to kick the air and change his trajectory. He gained a bit more altitude to avoid the Spell’s area of effect, then sky-dashed towards his target. Boxxy swung a massive sword directly into his path, only to have the stubborn human sidestep it without hitting the ground. He then stabbed the monster through the side of the head. Or, at
least, he thought he did. In reality, Boxxy had made a hole just large enough for his dagger to pass through without actually being cut. The flesh tightened up around the weapon, gripping it hard in an effort to disarm the man much as Zone’s perfect muscles did. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, Boxxy forgot the blade was coated in a reactive substance.

[You have been electrocuted. HP -446.]

The jolt didn’t hurt as much as the last one since it wasn’t delivered straight to its spine, but it was still painful enough to make the monster reflexively pull away from the blade.

“Sky Cleaver!”

Edward used this opening to deliver a chop with his free hand, intending to split the monster’s skull open. He stopped himself at the last second, as that move was a feint to goad Boxxy into trying to bite it off. It fell for it, allowing the Spymaster to kick it squarely in the chest while it snapped up nothing but air. It was the same blow that previously sent the former mimic flying through a house. The creature was far too strong and heavy to be punted like that again, but it was still knocked face-first into the snow.

Edward landed softly about ten meters away, rapidly sinking into the icy blizzard to hide.

When Boxxy emerged from the snow, its prey was nowhere to be seen.

However, that wasn’t to say it didn’t have a target, as a bunch of rift walkers that had entered the instant dungeon were ambling their way towards it.

Rather than wasting MP and energy on those troublesome things, the monster decided it was time to reveal one of its last remaining secrets. It pulled out the skull-tipped Voidcaller staff and activated its special ability.

Claws was perfect for this since this frozen environment was right up her alley, and her anti-magical scythes would cut right through the spatial distortions protecting their fragile bodies. She’d make short work of them and then come back to assist her master in tracking and killing Edward. He probably backed off and was hiding so the monsters fought amongst themselves and gave him an opening, but he was about to find that Boxxy T. Morningwood always had another trick.

Sadly, this one didn’t work out too well. Voidcaller opened a crimson gateway as usual, but it collapsed while the instantly-conjured demon was
still passing through and bisected her, killing her instantly. It would appear the spatial distortions weren’t caused by the Overlord, but these mindless minions. Cursing under its breath, the creature leaped at the first rift walker and, with a bit of luck, managed to grab something that was probably its head in the brief moment it was actually there.

“Enslave Demon!”

The gamble paid off, and one of the damnable creatures was now under Boxxy’s thrall. It had it instantly turn on the rest and keep them busy while it retreated to its old position, still wary of another ambush.

“You’re just full of nasty surprises now, aren’t you?!”

Edward’s voice echoed all around the monster, putting it even more on edge.

“All those Jobs, Skills, and items, you really are a Pandora’s Box, aren’t you?!”

The words bounced all over the place thanks to the howling winds, making it impossible to pin down the spy’s location by sound alone.

“What’s a Pandora’s Box?!” it shouted back. “Is it tasty?!”

“Hardly! They say that blasted thing is the source of all the world’s diseases, vermin, and monsters!”

“So, it’s shiny?!”

“I wouldn’t know, it’s just a myth! I didn’t believe it at first, but looking at you, I’m starting to reconsider!”

“You really should’ve stayed with the Overlord, Edward! Then you would’ve had a non-zero chance of surv-!”

Boxxy abruptly stopped its taunting banter when its MLG sensed something covered in bronze dust approaching it rapidly from behind. It turned around swinging, only to strike down a rust-stained blue cloak wrapped around a chunk of ice.

“Dual Backbiter!”

It barely had time to figure out what was going on before two sharp points dug into its backside, ravaging its vital spot even worse than before.

[Your spine has been severed. HP -2,532]

[You have been violently electrocuted. HP -1,746.]

[You have been stunned for 5 seconds.]

[Your Skills have been disabled for 5 seconds.]

“Peak-a-boo!”

Edward whispered into the doppelganger’s ear would be if it had any, then pulled his daggers out of its back and kicked over its limp body. It was good the monster snuck another healing potion in all the confusion, otherwise it would have died then and there. It seemed a futile effort as Boxxy fell forwards, crashing into the copious white snow, now stained a dark crimson by the blood flowing from its near-fatal wound. Though its considerable MNT allowed it to maintain a grip on its consciousness despite the stun condition, it couldn’t do anything except muster a few throaty gurgles and pained twitches.

“I finally got you, you damnable abomination!” the Spymaster shouted, spit flying everywhere. “You come into my house, kill my people, and then try to run away?! Did you honestly think I would let that happen?!”

Though he talked big, the only reason Edward was able to pull this off was because he and Question had spent the entire fight analyzing Boxxy’s habits and combat style. Its attacks had countless variations and its bag of tricks seemed bottomless, but the Spymaster had ultimately gotten a firm grasp on its approach and personality. That was why he felt so confident removing his ‘tagged’ cloak and setting up this counter-counter-counter strike.

Though it left his torso largely unprotected since that Vengeance-enhanced strike ruined his chest piece, he wouldn’t need armor if his opponent was unable to lift a finger.

It wasn’t over quite yet, though. The demon it enslaved might come shambling back to help, but it probably wouldn’t last long against the other rift walkers. Even if it did, it had no way of knowing its temporary master needed aid. Boxxy was stunned and didn’t have its Skills. It could barely form coherent thoughts in such a state, let alone send out telepathic orders.

Still, it really was in Edward’s best interest to just finish the thing off, but

the rage and fury within him were too much. There was no way he would be able to remain silent after losing so much because of this one arrogant bastard of a box. Still, the monster wouldn’t be incapacitated much longer, so the man couldn’t indulge any further. He raised both daggers, ready to plunge them into the damnable abomination and gut it open like a floundering fish.

Edward was about to deliver the killing stroke when he noticed his own hand fall away from the rest of him.

*KRAK-KOOM*

The pain of having his right arm melted off at the elbow by a bolt of plasma had only just reached the man’s brain when Fizzy appeared besides him in a burst of lightning, shield hand still in cannon mode and the other gripping her oversized wrench. The dynamo golem swung her weapon in the next instant, smashing it into the stunned Spymaster’s head so hard he did a double backflip before crashing face-down in the snow several steps away.

“Hey, meatbag!” she shouted, a mad grin on her face. “Remember me?!”

“RRRARGH!”

No longer in shock and in total agony, Edward howled and roared. He frantically reached for a Rejuvenation Potion from his belt, but a mithril foot slammed down on his wrist, pinning his hand to the ground while that wrench pressed down on his torso.

“No. You. Don’t!”

The construct’s voice oozed with hatred and contempt as she put her full weight onto his trapped limb.

“ARRRGHHH!”

She continued crushing it against the ice underneath until it was more like a stocking filled with jam than a functional limb. One could even call it an actual bag of meat. She leaned down and grabbed the pink-filled crystal vial from his limp fingers, tossing it casually to the side. She flicked her wrist over her shoulder, effectively ‘throwing’ a Holy Light at Boxxy. The shapeshifter, now in a significantly more stable condition, stood up and briskly limped over to where Fizzy had Edward at her mercy.

“Thanks for the save,” it said calmly. “You had me worried for a second.”

Earlier, while Boxxy had been rolling around the snow and preparing its bow, it had discretely evacuated Fizzy from its Storage. She had thankfully recovered from the mishap with the Gnomish Death Ray, and though she wanted to help, the shapeshifter had stopped her with two quick words –

‘sit’ and ‘wait.’ It didn’t have time to explain, but the golem understood and lurked in the snow while powered down, letting the blizzard obscure her brilliant white frame. It was a dangerous move since it carried the very real risk of her freezing over if she waited too long. However, Boxxy had a hunch Edward would get the better of it before long. The Spymaster knew
all of the creature’s tricks and was an incredibly skilled combatant. The only reason he hadn’t won yet was because of the shapeshifter’s ridiculously bloated Status, but one good hit would be enough for him to claim victory.

So, when Boxxy lost track of Edward, it decided to bait him into a trap with its own life on the line. It knew that the Spymaster was aware of its MLG, and it was obvious that the shapeshifter was wary of his Obfuscate Skill. It was also fairly safe to assume the sharp-witted spy had deduced the bronze dust on his gear was rendering said ability pointless. After all, he had already adapted to each of the monster’s other tricks after only seeing them once or twice, so that failed ambush had surely tipped him off. In short, Boxxy’s devious mind had already deduced its opponent would try something like that decoy trick, and it pretended to fall for it. It was risky gamble, but Edward went for it without suspecting anything. After all, what sort of idiot made a plan that relied on them getting wounded to near-death?

The desperate kind that was rapidly running out of options.

With all the pieces in place, the only thing left was to trust that Fizzy would grasp her role in this suicidal gamble. Boxxy had put its life in her hands, believing she would strike down the Spymaster when he made himself vulnerable due to the same flaw that previously killed the shapeshifter –
arrogance. It was, without a doubt, the hardest decision the monster had made in its short, yet extremely turbulent life.

“What do you think, Boxxy?” the shiny golem asked, her face widening into a twisted, manic smirk. “Shall I heal him up so we can play the meat organ a bit more?! I bet I can make all sorts of fun sounds come out of this bag of bones, blood, and shit!”

As tasty as that prospect was, the shapeshifter knew better than to give someone like Edward a single chance of escape.

“Don’t drag it out, Fizzy. Just finish him off and be done with it.”

“… I suppose.”

Overhearing the name ‘Fizzy’ jolted something loose in Edward’s memory.

He twisted his neck around to look up at the golem’s face. Though it was made of living white gold, sported a smile oozing of crazy, and had a violent spark glowing within its eyes, it was still a visage he had seen
before. In some last ditch effort to escape reality, his thoughts drifted back to that pathetic, scared, pink-haired little gnome who could do nothing for herself but weep and beg. As the mithril construct pressed her blood-soaked foot against his neck, the Spymaster couldn’t help but come to a terrible realization.

Looks like Question was right all along.

This entire mess really was all his fault. He grew greedy, impatient, and mistakenly allowed a sentient treasure chest to escape his grasp. Worse still, Edward was the one who unwittingly motivated Boxxy to become the monster that it was. The Spymaster should have just killed it back in Erosa instead of imprisoning it. Or, maybe he should’ve let Zone keep it as a pet.

Better yet, he never should have gone to personally investigate the Calamity of Monotal. There were so many opportunities for him to avoid this outcome before things got out of hand, and the fact that he ignored all of them was nobody’s fault but his own. This belated realization filled him with a profound feeling of loss and regret he had not experienced in a long, long time.

It was also his last coherent thought, as Fizzy was about to show him what it was like to be in the middle of a raging thunderstorm.

*KRRZZZZHHHT*

She raised the power output of her Static Field Skill to its absolute limit.

Bolts of lightning poured out of her metal frame, flowing directly into Edward’s battered and aching flesh. The excess energy snapped and crackled, sending arcs of pure power into the air, ground, and snow. The electrical onslaught caused Boxxy to instinctively shiver with fear, but it did not dare step away. It didn’t want to miss a single moment of its oldest, greatest enemy sizzling, shaking, and screaming. This carried on for ten agonizing seconds before Edward’s skull exploded into a shower of blood and brains with a disgustingly wet pop, his corpse nothing but a charred, twitching mess.

“Come on, Fizzy! Not the head! I wanted that!”

“… Whoops? Sorry, Boxxy.”

“… Oh, I can’t stay mad at you! C’mere!”

The shapeshifter wrapped itself around its ‘trophy wife,’ eagerly licking up all of Edward’s remnants off her body, much to the golem’s delight. It realized the exertion it went through had made it exceptionally hungry, so it discreetly began munching on the Spymaster’s corpse while polishing the radiant Paladin. It wasn’t as good as Ambrosia’s nectar-basted human ribs, but the electrically barbecued meat was delicious beyond its savory flavor.

The monster was also starting to feel rather woozy since it downed too many potions too quickly. Its body wasn’t a fan, but that was a minor inconvenience. Speaking of annoying things, it remembered it had to bring a ‘souvenir’ back to the Foundation, so they could identify the remains and confirm the kill. The arm Fizzy blew off during the counter-counter-counter-ambush would prove sufficient, so it threw it into Storage. It also had to collect remains from the rest of the Gilded Hand officers, which it intended to do after the Overlord was done wrecking Watford. Assuming, of course, it could find any under all that rubble.

“Uh, Boxxy?” Fizzy lightly elbowed it. “What’s that?”

“Hm? That’s just my pet rift walker. Guess it came out on top, huh?”

The other feral creatures likely didn’t identify it as a threat since it was one of their own.

“The crap’s a rift walker? Looks like a blind guy made a scarecrow.”

“It’s a demon, technically, but a really weird one.”

“Ah… Are there more outside?”

“Oh, yeah. Tons.”

“Uh-huh. And why are there tons of really weird demons outside? For that matter, why is it so dark through the portal? It should still be noon, right?”

The clever golem had deduced that the battle had, for whatever reason, gone from Watford castle to an instant dungeon, but the specifics eluded her since she had been stuck in Storage for quite a while.

“Oh, right,” Boxxy realized that. “You weren’t there when Overlord Weaxohn came out.”

“What?! You didn’t say anything about Overlords!”

“Hey! That one wasn’t me, okay!?”

*HOOOOAAAAAHHHNNN*

The quarrel was suddenly interrupted by what sounded like a strange beast’s call. Fizzy and Boxxy turned their attention in the direction it came from and saw several strange silhouettes lumbering towards them through the whiteout. They were about four meters in height, with bear-like lower bodies, the torso and arms of exceptionally hairy men, and a deer-like head complete with antlers. Neither had seen monsters the like of these before, but it was safe to assume the gigantic, centaur-like abominations were created by the instant dungeon. And, judging from the way they started charging at Boxxy and Fizzy, they weren’t coming in for a group hug.

“Oh well, no rest for the wicked, I suppose,” the disappointed golem groaned.

“We’ll have plenty of time later,” Boxxy replied. “We just gotta kill these things, wait until the Overlord goes away, pick up what’s left of Stain, and head back home.”

“Sounds like a plan. What then, though?”

“Then… I suppose I can start figuring out how to safely rob a dragon.

Actually, are dragons tasty?”

It looked towards the construct as if she held the wisdom of the ancients, but she was at a complete loss.

“I… Maybe?”

“Yeah. There’s no way they’re not tasty.”

Though it had finally turned the page on the last loose thread of its early life, Boxxy’s seemingly endless hunger for tasty and/or shiny things was far from satiated. It wasn’t sure when, how, or even if it was capable of reaching that point, but it had a feeling it wouldn’t be until was able to pluck all those shimmering stars from the night sky. Admittedly, the odds of pulling that off were so astronomically low it stood a better chance at becoming a celestial body itself, but it didn’t let that bother it.

After all, what sort of Hero of Chaos would Boxxy be if it didn’t challenge these non-zero chances regardless of how bad the odds were?

Epilogue

The once vibrant city of Watford was in shambles, the majority of its buildings reduced to rubble. Many streets and most ports had been rendered completely unusable as the survivors were still struggling to clean up and rebuild. This devastation was only to be expected given that the Demon King had been unleashed upon the city. The unique method through which Weaxohn was summoned had actually given him nearly twenty minutes of

‘alone time’ with Watford, an event that the locals fearfully referred to as the ‘Blackout.’ Yet, despite the tragic catastrophe that befell it, the port city was in a state that could be described as mostly intact, at least when compared to the charred crater that Nagnamor left behind at the end of the recent war. Sure, the damage to the buildings and infrastructure was devastating, and the casualties numbered in the thousands, but all things considered, it would’ve been much worse if the Inquisition wasn’t there.

Though the details of that day were still sketchy, the iron will, tenacity, and prowess that Teresa’s faithful displayed at the time could not be denied. The Inquisition naturally had all sorts of members within its ranks, as faith was something that encompassed many different walks of life. That said, those with religious Jobs were naturally in the majority, and it was thanks to their efforts that the city had been spared much suffering. The abnormally high number of Priests chanted holy hymns and sacred arias, shielding the populace body and soul from the otherworldly terror’s relentless onslaught.

The Monks, though much fewer in number, did their part by fighting off rift walkers and subduing citizens who had gone berserk. One was reportedly even seen running through the air and kicking away falling debris before they could crush the innocent underneath.

As valiant and heroic as those righteous men and women were, the Paladins ultimately deserved the most praise. Clad head to toe in blessed armor, they radiated golden auras that turned them into guiding lights in a sea of desperation. None hesitated to stand tall with their shields raised, providing what cover they could against the rain of destruction. Teresa’s champions had become beacons of hope that inspired those around them to push harder and work together against this insurmountable foe. Watford’s adventurers, mercenaries, and criminals found themselves standing alongside the holy
warriors as they braved the nightmares unleashed by Weaxohn the All-Knowing. It was a beautiful story, in a way. It was not often that humanity was able to set aside their petty differences and unite under a single banner.

On that day, Watford had taken a stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Inquisition and survived to see another dawn. Though the Blackout had been a terrible catastrophe without question, the loss of life would have been far greater without their combined efforts. It was a crying shame that this spirit of camaraderie couldn’t last long. With the harrowing event behind them and an uncertain future in front, humanity’s ugly side began to rear its head.

“What do you mean you will not give us any more?! We are already dealing with rogue demons and mad civilians, and now bandits are coming out of the woodwork! People will die without those supplies!”

“Look mate, I’m gonna be honest with you. I appreciate what you did for me and mine, but everyone’s got it rough. I’ve already given you lot half my stock for free, and I think I’ve been more than generous.”

“Yes, and your contribution is much appreciated, but those goods were practically expired! We need proper potions and reagents, not swill you were going to throw away in a week!”

“Then pay for them like everyone else! I got mouths to feed and a bloody store to rebuild! Or did you not notice the fuckin’ roof’s gone?!”

The large, armored man let out a tired sigh as he lifted his hands off the dusty counter. This was getting him nowhere, and he had better things to do than to argue with this old geezer. He’d been in this backwards town long enough to know his type, so he wasn’t sure why he even bothered. He did, however, make a mental note to come back once the dust had settled and find out whether this ‘humble Alchemist’ was making more than just crappy salves and tonics. The soldier left the shop, rubbing his bald head in frustration. His tidy black beard and moustache did little to hide his displeased scowl while his brown eyes darted all over the place. He let out another sigh as his gloved fingers traced over the large cross-shaped scar on the left side of his skull – a constant reminder why helmets were important.

The man’s armor rattled with every step. His gear was nothing special at first glance, appearing as just another set of steel plates bound together by
leather straps and fur padding. Frankly speaking, the only aspect of this equipment a layperson might consider exceptional was its size, though that was hardly surprising given the owner. The knight boasted a tall and wide build just under two meters in height, so his gear had to be fittingly large and bulky. A more experienced eye would notice how the equipment was covered in dents, scratches, and blemishes from countless battles. The fact that none of these inconsequential faults had been polished or otherwise covered up betrayed that this man wasn’t one for pageantry. Unlike some of his fellow Paladins, he was a veteran through and through. As for his vocation and allegiance, both were obvious from the eye-adorned black tabard slung over his shoulders. It had been the symbol of the Inquisition since the Empire’s founding, so it was unfortunate that the imagery now served as a painful reminder to the people of Watford. The similarity it bore to Weaxohn’s appearance was unfortunate, though admittedly far from the only reason why the locals avoided the man.

However, despite what anyone said or continued to say about his organization, Sigmund Law was a patriot through and through. He loved his country and his Goddess in equal measure, serving them both to the utmost of his ability. That was why he did not blindly follow his fellow Paladins into that blasted war. His gut told him something was not right with that conflict. Blaming the Calamity of Monotal on an entire nation just seemed… ludicrous. He refused to believe anyone with the authority to sanction that tragedy would have such a blatant disregard for life. His instincts had been proven right when Teresa Herself revealed that claim to be a sham orchestrated by rogue elements close to the throne. Though this shook Law’s faith in the Empire’s leadership, it in no way diminished his will to serve what truly mattered – its ideals and its people.

So, when the opportunity presented itself, he did not hesitate to sign up with the Inquisition. They promised to rid this great nation of the disease that had been allowed to fester in its highest echelons, yet what had they done after months of audits and inquiries? Jack shit, that’s what. Sure, they exposed corruption in a few minor lords and nobles, but Sigmund refused to accept that was the best they could do. Teresa had given them a divine duty, yet his brothers and sisters in arms seemed considerably less driven than he had hoped. It wasn’t like he expected to see blind zealotry, and was quietly
thankful he didn’t, but the others’ apparent complacency and unwillingness to disturb the status quo was rather infuriating.

This festering city was a prime example of why such a passive approach would never achieve anything meaningful. Watford was practically overrun by criminals, drug cartels, smuggling rings, and other unsavory elements while the local government did little to nothing about it. It seemed the kind of place the Inquisition would be eager to clean up, yet it was still the same cesspool of human scum it had always been despite their major presence.

This state of affairs both angered and saddened Sigmund. The Empire was better than this. Humanity was better than this. He honestly believed that, and his only reason for sticking around so long was to drag his fellow man into the light, kicking and screaming if he had to. Unfortunately, there was very little one man could do on his own. Sigmund hoped to find like-minded individuals within the Inquisition, but that had proven exceptionally difficult. Ranks, patrols, and assignments were given out seemingly at random, making it nigh-impossible to form any meaningful discourse with people for extended periods of time. He had certain doubts the local Chief Inquisitor might have been bought off in some way, but bringing up such accusations without a single scrap of evidence was pointless.

“Paladin Law!”

A squeaky voice broke the bald man out of his disheartening thoughts, prompting him to look down to the little brown-haired girl by his side. She must have been only four or five years old, so small that she didn’t even come up to his waist. He didn’t recognize the kid at first glance, but quickly realized she must have been one of the children he helped dig out of that basement two days ago, immediately after the Blackout ended. Unless he missed his guess, this one was-

“Suzy, right?”

“Yeah!” she smiled brightly. “You remembered!”

It might have taken him a moment, but of course he did. Sigmund tried to commit the voice, face, and name of every person he had helped to memory.

Whenever he felt depressed, disappointed, or disheartened, he thought back on those people to give himself the courage to push forward. It may have
been a selfish act entirely for his own satisfaction, but it was also part of the reason why his conviction was so unyielding.

“So, Suzy. What can the Inquis-”

Sigmund stopped abruptly when he realized she was trying really hard not to look at his chest. He knelt down to her eye level and did his best to discretely cover up the symbol that probably reminded her of some very bad things.

“What can I help you with?” he smiled as best he could.

“I found a pretty pebble in the rubble! I think it’s important to someone, but I don’t know who! Can you find out and give it back?”

The girl held up a small square gem. It was completely gray, almost lifeless in its coloration. It looked remarkably unscratched and unblemished despite being dug out of a pile of debris, which implied it was a magic item.

“Well! Quite the upstanding little citizen you are!” he gently placed a hand on her head. “I will make sure to return this to its rightful owner, but you must not mess around with the rubble. It might shift suddenly and hurt you.”

“… Okay.”

That was definitely the sound of someone who was going to do it anyway.

The Paladin couldn’t help but think there was some reason why she acted this way, but he didn’t want to pry in what was likely a delicate matter. He had a decent idea how to help her out, though.

“Tell you what. No good deed should go unrewarded. Here, for you and your friends.”

He exchanged the gemstone for a small package wrapped in brown paper.

“What’s this?” Suzy asked curiously.

“Brickwheat crackers. They are bland and dry, but filling. It is not much, but I can give you no more at the moment. If any of you are still hungry after these run out, come find me and we’ll figure something out, alright?”

“Okay! Thanks for the food, Paladin Law!”

“Any time, Suzy. You be careful now, and may Teresa watch over you.”

The man put the gem in his pocket and parted ways with the girl with a wave before continuing back towards the barracks, smiling. He really needed that. Pure souls like hers were hard to come by these days, though that was only to be expected of a little kid. If an adult found that precious item, they would have surely pawned it off without even considering seeking out its original owner. The man understood why they would do that, especially in these dire circumstances, but that didn’t mean he condoned such behavior.

Sigmund’s good mood turned sour when he remembered he was scheduled to be interviewed by a superior of his within the Inquisition, a man called Ravenholm. The Paladin was one of the first people to set foot on that torn-up courtyard and bear witness to Weaxohn’s summoning, so it was only natural he’d be questioned. The problem was that Sigmund really didn’t want to recount that day’s events. Though he put up a strong front, the things he’d seen would stay with him for a long while.

Various thoughts of pointless self-pity swirled inside his shiny head until he found himself in his superior officer’s cramped office, saluting the man respectfully.

“Sir! Paladin Sigmund Law reporting as ordered, sir!”

“Ah, yes,” said the lanky clergyman. “Do come in and have a seat.”

Ravenholm was an older gentleman with thinning gray hair. He was a Priest in Teresa’s service, though his time seemed more dedicated to paperwork and politics than preaching. Sigmund didn’t hold that against him. Those were the unfortunate realities one had to contend with when they were in a position of authority. The Paladin sincerely wished things didn’t have to be this way, but it was rather impossible to alter reality through happy thoughts alone. For the moment, he took the offered seat in front of the captain’s desk, making the old chair creak and groan under his weight.

“Well, where to begin?” Ravenholm mused, putting his elbows on his desk.

“I’ve already heard the gist of what had happened from the rest of your squad, but I need to confirm a few things.”

“Yes, sir.”

“First, did you notice any sort of magical disturbance when you arrived at the courtyard? Something not caused by this Overlord, I mean.”

“Ah, yes sir. While I was running for cover I saw a weird pink portal. I think it had snow pouring out of it. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.”

“Mhm, that’s the one. Did you see anything go in and out of it?”

“Sir. Only those creatures, I believe they are called rift-walkers. A group of them filed through the portal. That was the last I saw before my unit had to fall back, sir.”

“What about after the Blackout ended?”

“Sir. I went to assist with the search and rescue, sir.”

“Not that. I mean with the portal. Did you witness anyone use it afterwards?”

“Sir? I do not follow.”

“According to my report, that… anomaly persisted for roughly an hour before it collapsed. We’re still trying to figure out what it was, where it led to, who opened it, and why it lasted that long.”

Though some would argue that the Inquisition should have just leaped through the portal to chase after any suspicious individuals that might have used it, that was easier said than done. Their people had just overcome a major crisis and suffered heavy casualties. Nobody who had lived through that waking nightmare would ever consider sending more of their fellow brothers and sisters through some unknown mystical gateway. That decision was made all the easier by the extreme weather conditions and silhouettes of unidentified gigantic monsters that could be seen on the other side.

“Sorry, sir. I had nothing more to do with the portal, sir.”

Sigmund was, naturally, telling the truth, as was his boss. Their oaths made it so that they could not utter a single lie, lest they be branded by Taboo and cast out as heretics. Well, technically the Paladin’s FTH Attribute was high enough to take four or five major fallacies before it dipped into the negative, but that was irrelevant to the matter at hand. The important part was that Sigmund believed his words true even though the source of that mysterious portal had already crossed his fingers without his knowledge.

The bauble Suzy had given him earlier was actually the exhausted Atlas of Dreams that Boxxy had to leave behind during its retreat. The shapeshifter wanted to avoid tangling with the Inquisition entirely, and it couldn’t just sit around and wait for the instant dungeon to collapse to retrieve its shiny, so it snuck out of Watford as soon as the opportunity presented itself. That meant abandoning the Divine item at the site, but it would find its way back to its owner eventually. In fact, the gemstone had already slipped out of both the Paladin’s pocket and his mind. It was presently well on its way northward aboard a merchant ship.

“Very well. Did you notice anything bizarre elsewhere in the city?”

Ravenholm pressed. “Suspicious individuals, odd events, strange creatures, anything of the sort?”

“Hmm… Come to think of it, sir, I did catch a glimpse of something troubling. It looked like a pink slime that was dragging an unconscious man into the sewer. I could not intervene as I was preoccupied trying to subdue a crazed adventurer, sir.”

The good captain raised an eyebrow, as this story piqued his interest.

“Can you describe the victim you saw in greater detail?”

“I… noticed he was bald, human, of middling age, and wearing a blue robe.

Sir.”

“Anything else?”

“Sir, I apologize. My memory of the event is cloudy, so I am not certain how reliable my testimony is, sir.”

“I don’t care, just tell me whatever you can.”

That ‘I don’t care’ slightly irked Sigmund. Unreliable information could easily lead an investigation astray, so he did not believe his spotty recollection should be taken into account. However, a superior officer had asked him a question, and it was his duty to answer to the best of his ability.

“Yes, sir. If I were to offer anything more, it would be that I was left with the distinct impression that the monster in question was… smiling?

Something resembling a face and head was poking out of the blob, at the very least.”

“Forget about the slime for now and focus on the person. Did he have any scars or identifying markings? Maybe an insignia or something on his clothes?”

“I do not know. His upper body was enveloped in pink goo, so ‘bald man in blue robe’ is all I can offer, sir.”

“I see,” Ravenholm sighed. “Apologies for pushing you like that, Paladin.”

“Sir. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“For the last time, Paladin, our ranks are decorative. We aren’t the military.

You don’t need permission to speak your mind.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you can take the Paladin out of the army, but you cannot take the army out of the Paladin.”

“Haah,” the Priest sighed. “Fine. Permission granted.”

“Thank you. What is this really about, sir? Was this victim someone of importance?”

“Potentially. The limited description you offered matches that of Chief Interrogator Hook, a Gilded Hand officer.”

Hearing the name of the organization responsible for orchestrating that unjust war and the needless loss of life that followed naturally lit a fire under Sigmund’s ass.

“So, the rumors are true? The Gilded Hand was responsible for this atrocity?”

“Our preliminary investigation suggests as much, yes. We’re still sorting through the mess, but we’ve confirmed that four of the rogue organization’s ringleaders were found dead, three at the scene of the summoning.”

Using the information gleaned from captured or deserting Gilded Hand operatives and agents, the Inquisition already knew the identities of Edward Allen’s inner circle. The upper half of Edge and mostly intact corpse of Bandit were found in the castle courtyard. Mist’s body had evaporated during the summoning, but the gear and personal belongings he left behind were enough to ascertain his identity and confirm his death. Unfortunately, the gold-plated staff he had been given by the previous Emperor as well as
whatever accursed item he used to call forth the Overlord were nowhere to be found.

Question was even trickier to identify. His body was badly mutilated, had huge chunks of it missing, and looked as if something had quite literally eaten his face. The damage was likely caused by the same sick individual that used the victim’s blood to paint a rough drawing of a heart with the letters ‘B + D’ on the side of the tower containing his corpse. The meaning behind this gruesome graffiti was yet another in a long line of mysteries, but its presence helped the Inquisition locate the mangled remains while they were still relatively fresh. This, in turn, allowed their Scribes to salvage enough Status information from the scene to identify the body as Roderick Halston – Question’s real name.

“However,” Ravenholm continued, “three executive officers remain unaccounted for. One is Hook, the others are Spymaster Edward Allen and his chief enforcer, Administrator Jackson. Unfortunately, if the suspect you saw was captured by a slime, then there probably isn’t anything left of him to confirm his identity. That’s why I need you to do your best to remember anything more you can tell me.”

“I see.”

Counting the dead was one of the many grim realities of the battlefield, so Sigmund understood where Ravenholm was coming from. Unfortunately, this new information wasn’t shaking loose any forgotten or repressed memories.

“Apologies, sir. I truly cannot remember anything else about the victim.

However, I do recall hearing rumors of a local called Slimeface.

Apparently, he has a weird pink slime nesting in his eye socket. Might be connected to the monster that dragged away our suspect.”

“Haah,” the lanky clergyman sighed again. “I suppose that’s better than nothing, but not by much. For now, we have no choice but to assume Hook is still at large. You’re free to go, Paladin.”

“Pardon me, sir, but I feel I must protest,” Sigmund said calmly. “If the Gilded Hand truly were right under our noses, how did we not notice them?”

“Because they are- were this nation’s most elite spies. Even fallen from grace, they had a lot of sway and influence with the locals while we were treated as outsiders and bullies. There was nothing we could have done without the people’s cooperation, though I suspect that will change in our favor soon enough.”

“Sir?”

“You are familiar with rumors, so you must know what the populace is saying. They think we’re heroes that saved this city and vanquished the traitorous Gilded Hand. The Inquisition stands to gain much with such publicity and goodwill.”

“… Excuse me, sir? Did I mishear you, or did you just admit you were going to willingly perpetuate a falsehood?”

The Inquisition may have saved a significant part of the city and its residents, but they most certainly did not defeat the Gilded Hand. Granted, Sigmund didn’t have all the facts, but Ravenholm most certainly said they were ‘found dead’ just a few moments ago. It was not something they could or should be taking credit for.

“We will be doing no such thing, Paladin. However, if the people misunderstand the situation, and we can use that to our advantage, then-”

*SLAM*

Sigmund leaped out of his seat and slammed his hands onto the wooden desk, face twisted in outrage.

“Then we are no better than the filth we were supposed to eradicate!” he yelled.

“There is no need to raise your voice, Paladin,” the Priest tried to calm him.

“I am not your enemy.”

“Are you sure about that, sir?! ”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“We are supposed to be the instruments of Her will, working to cleanse this Empire of its treacherous side! Not sit idly by while misinformed opinion and speculation muddies the waters even further!”

“I admit, I do not feel right doing this, but it is necessary. Though Teresa guides us, this nation is still one of mortal men. We need this sort of influence and clout if we are to make a meaningful difference in its ruling class.”

“Influence? Clout?! We have the Goddess at our back! We should not be currying favor with a bunch of arrogant, self-serving piles of garbage!”

“Do you expect us to just storm their estates and drag them out of their homes by force based on mere speculation?!”

“Expect it?!”

Sigmund leaned over the desk, the intensity of his glare making Ravenholm instinctively flinch back in his seat.

“I’m wondering why we are not already doing it.”

Any pretense of respect was completely gone from the Paladin’s voice, and that wasn’t exactly helping his case.

“Because there are laws, Paladin!” the Priest stood, returning the glare. “I would expect you to know that, given your blasted name!”

“You mean the ‘laws’ made by corrupt officials to protect their own hides?

The faithful of Teresa should not be trying to navigate some maze of regulations and bureaucracy! They should be knocking it down in their pursuit of the truth! The Inquisition was created to be Her Hammer of Justice, and we need to start acting like it!”

“So, you would rather see this holy institution turn into a bunch of criminals with no respect for peace or order?! Do you think the people we are supposed to be looking out for will appreciate us disregarding the basic principles of society?”

“If that is what it takes to root out the evil that festers in the hearts of men with power, then yes. One does not cure a gangrenous limb. It needs. To be cut. Away.”

“Enough! I understand your frustrations, but I will hear no more of your disrespectful attitude towards this nation and the ones burdened with its governance. Certain compromises have to be made for the greater good,

Paladin. If you’re too blinded by your personal vendetta to see that, perhaps the Inquisition is not for you.”

Sigmund took his hands off of the desk and stood upright with a heavy sigh.

“It is you who is blind, Ravenholm. Justice is not about compromise. It is about doing the right thing, even if it is not pretty.”

No longer able to stand the stench of hypocrisy, the scar-headed Paladin left the office in disgust. He walked the halls of the semi-collapsed keep in a mood so foul it made his comrades give him a wide berth almost on instinct. Needing to clear his head and do some serious thinking, he went into the nearby training hall. He walked up to one of the wooden practice dummies and proceeded to take his frustrations out on it. He pummeled it over and over with his armored fists until all that was left of the doll was a short stump surrounded by splinters, but all that did was make him tired and angry.

Sigmund collapsed on his knees, staring idly up at the ceiling as he steadied his breathing. He closed his eyes and thought back to all the people he had helped. He never asked for any payment for his deeds, nor did he expect any. He only wished to see their smiling faces and witness them do good unto others. Such thoughts gave him hope. They reminded him that humanity was not as ugly as it made itself out to be, and that it had the potential to do great things if only it stopped being so maddeningly selfish.

Normally, this mental exercise would be enough to calm him down, but this time was different. That ‘talk’ with the captain reminded him just how powerless he was to change anything. Though his conviction, faith, and sword arm were all strong, in the end he was but a nameless grunt.

Spreading small acts of kindness was the most he could do, but that achieved little beyond nursing the symptoms. They would not cure the disease of rampant corruption that infested the Lodrak Empire. No, that needed to be burned away at its source, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could do that on his own.

Dejected and depressed, Sigmund opened his eyes and was about to stand up when he noticed he was no longer on the filthy floor of a dingy training hall. He was kneeling on a solid cloud drifting through a blue sky filled with countless other lumps of white. He rose to his feet in a panic and
frantically scanned his surroundings. When he turned around, he instantly fell to his knees again, his head lowered and hands clasped in prayer. He could not bear to brazenly stand in front of a being that could only be Teresa, the Goddess of Truth and Justice. Granted, She was slightly more blindfolded and far more naked than how She was usually depicted in iconography, but he did not doubt it was Her.

“Sigmund Law,” she spoke in a clear, bell-like voice. “Know that I have seen your devotion, and I have felt your frustrations. Like yourself, I too have sensed my faithful being led astray from the path I have set out before them. But do not hate them, for not even the divines are infallible. We all make mistakes. The most we can do is hope to learn from them and make an effort to avoid repeating them.”

The Paladin felt his chest tighten at those words, for they were overflowing with sadness. He thought back to the Goddess’s silence following her chosen Hero’s demise. It was a harrowing time that tested all of Her faithful, himself included. Though he was shaken by that storm of uncertainty, he weathered it better than most. He never needed Her at his side to do what was right, and that wouldn’t change should Teresa disappear forever. He was, of course, relieved upon Her return, but he was prepared to carry on doing Her work even if She wasn’t around to stamp his time card.

That momentary introspective aside, Sigmund realized that the Goddess had fallen silent and was likely waiting for a reply.

“None of this your fault, my lady,” he declared. “You could not have known-“

“It matters not what I knew,” she interrupted. “I allowed a falsehood to be perpetuated in my name, and both my faithful and Nyrie’s children have suffered for it. The silence you are thinking of was a time of great shame and turmoil for me, but also retrospective. It helped me understand the root cause of the war and all the suffering that continues to follow in its wake. It is my neglect, Sigmund Law. My vigilance was lax, and the mortal world suffered for it. The fault is none but my own.”

It was difficult for a man who idolized Teresa to hear those harsh words, but he could not deny that She was right. That mess happened on Her watch, so it was Her responsibility.

“Is that why you reformed the Inquisition, my lady? To… rectify your mistakes?”

“It is. That is why it saddens and frustrates me to see my faithful repeat my failings, but I understand it now. The more a soul suffers the twists of fate, the more he or she loses their way. And you, Sigmund Law, have suffered more than most, yet those conflicts have only made your conviction stronger. It is an admirable quality, one that I must admit I am quite envious of. It is also the main reason I have brought you here.”

“My lady?”

Sigmund couldn’t help but raise his head, though he lowered it almost immediately.

“Why do you avert your gaze, Paladin? I know for a fact you are not one to turn away from the truth.”

“Th-that may be so, my lady, but… Your, uhm, ‘truth’ is a bit too exposed.”

Much like the rest of his order, Sigmund had taken a vow of celibacy.

Though that particular tradition had been disbanded recently, he still had zero experience when it came to women. In fact, Teresa was the first one he had seen completely naked, so he genuinely did not know how to react. The floating deity smiled at his innocent side, as it confirmed she had made the right decision by bringing him here.

“Rise, Sigmund,” she beckoned. “Rise above the deceit and lies that have plagued this world for millennia. Stand proud in a way that makes it clear you will not bend the knee in the face of adversity. Point those willful eyes of yours forward, so that you may never lose sight of your ideals. And steel your heart, for what I am about to ask of you is a burden that will likely cost you dearly.”

The Paladin did as asked and stood firmly, head held high. Though he still felt terrible for defiling Her pure form with his mortal gaze, he could not ignore Her wishes. He looked Teresa in the blindfold and slammed his right fist against his breastplate loud enough for the clang to echo across the heavens.

“What it is you request, my lady? Name it, and I shall give all that I have to see it done.”

“Become my Hero, Sigmund Law. Bear my wishes upon your broad shoulders and respectable muscles, so that we may point humanity towards a brighter and happier future.”

This was a choice Teresa had struggled with ever since her rehabilitation.

The Goddess had been keeping a close eye on many other Hero candidates, not just Law. It was frankly rather ridiculous how huge that list got once she dropped the ‘blond blue-eyed hunk’ part of Her previous requirements. She gradually weeded out anyone whose clarity of mind, purity of faith, or strength of body were anything less than exceptional. Unlike those that came before, this Hero of the Hammer would face challenges and adversity at every turn, and Teresa judged that Sigmund Law was the one most likely to reach the end of that difficult path with his ideals intact.

“It- It is both an honor and a privilege to even be considered for such a thing!” he said with a bow of his head. “If my lady deems me worthy, I shall humbly accept.”

But first, she needed to clear something up.

“Humility is good, but I must ask that you cast it aside.”

“My lady? Whatever do you mean?”

“What I demand of you that is that you wield my authority brazenly, loudly, and confidently. You will make my flock listen, whether they like it or not.

You are to show mercy to those who repent, but smite down all who oppose. If you come across souls so lost in their own petty desires that they are unable to see the error of their ways, then you are to open their eyes with the most direct method possible – the careful and diligent application of force. Do I make myself clear?”

Sigmund couldn’t help but crack a smile. By the sound of it, the time for half-baked measures was over, and the moment for tough love was now.

“Understood, my lady. If that is your will, then I shall not hesitate to lay down the Law.”

“… That pun was terrible, and you should feel bad for making it.”

“Sorry.”

“Now, go forth, my Hero. Let the world know none are above judgement!”

Though the Lodrak Empire and its Inquisition didn’t know it yet, they were about to get themselves a brand new Grand Inquisitor. A man who in the months and years to come would become both feared and respected in equal measure. A man of absolute vigilance, but also profound kindness.

Someone who would extend one hand to help those in need while using the other to punch those who deserved it right in the face. Not even the Emperor was safe from having some truth and justice beaten into him.

Quite literally, in fact, as the brash monarch would emerge from his first meeting with the newly appointed Hero of the Hammer with a black eye and broken nose.

Afterword

Hello, there! Chest man here. Just wanted to say that, despite how it may appear, this is NOT the end of Boxxy’s story. We still have more shenanigans, adventures, and shinies in front of us. Also, you may have noticed this installment came out a tad quicker than the last one. That’s because I’m now able to invest more time and energy into the series, and I hope to start putting out future books with significantly higher frequency.

I’m also looking into independently adapting the series into a graphic novel.

Nothing’s set in stone and progress is slow, but initial prospects are promising. Let’s hope it works out!

Toodles.

Document Outline

- Prologue
- Chapter One – Knowledge Is Power
- Chapter Two – Growing Pains
- Interlude – A Family Reunion
- Chapter Three – Year of the Chest
- Chapter Four – Heavenly Gifts
- Interlude – What Friends Are For
- Chapter Five – Mind Games
- Epilogue
- Afterword

Table of Contents

- Prologue
- Chapter One – Knowledge Is Power
- Chapter Two – Growing Pains
- Interlude – A Family Reunion
- Chapter Three – Year of the Chest
- Chapter Four – Heavenly Gifts
- Interlude – What Friends Are For
- Chapter Five – Mind Games
- Epilogue
- Afterword