Chapter 216: Chapter 205 – Forged in Purple IV

Chapter 205 - Forged in Purple IV

Claire sprang up as her eyes shot open, a cold sweat dripping down her brow. Though her body—her real body—lacked the sensitivity to heat that the fake had possessed, she could still feel the searing hot ash against her skin. She was not the only one caught in the attack. Like the lyrkress, most of the soldiers had been too busy observing to even think of escape. Claire would surely have been among them, had Durham not moved her to a safe distance in record time.

He brought her all the way outside the city’s limits. And yet, her skin had still been burned. The spell’s absurd range proved not only to the lyrkress, but all of Valencia that the cottontail’s title was just—that she alone deserved to be known not as a magus, but the Grand Magus.

“They’re still too far ahead.” Claire took a moment to stare at the shard in her chest before raising her head and scanning her surroundings. The world was moving, slowly drifting along as her bubbly prison trailed behind its vulpine master.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” The fairy flew up to the lyrkress and happily whirled around her, zipping to and fro with all the speed and excitement of a hungry mosquito.

“It isn’t morning.”

“It might be!” said the fox.

“It’s clearly night.”

The moon was out; Griselda was among the stars with her hat sloppily equipped and the various pieces of her body messily strewn around her. Even within the dungeon, her form was perfectly reflected, just as it was everywhere else. Her divine power, like that of the sun goddess’, allowed her to be seen on her journey so long as one looked up at anything that could be interpreted as a sky.

“That’s just ‘cause that’s how this floor is!” said Sylvia. “And I’m pretty sure you only see the moon right now ‘cause she’s being weird again. I think she’s been there for like 10 whole hours already.”

“Griselda is generously blessing us with her presence for reasons that mere mortals are incapable of understanding,” said Arciel. “We should be grateful.”

Claire shot the squid a sidelong glance before returning her eyes to her surroundings. The moonsworn devout was standing at the rear with her knight, while Lia was in front. Claire, Sylvia, and Boris were in the middle of the pack, the fox casually hovering along, and the other two floating behind her. Around them lay a dark forest, with one mountain already marked with their footsteps and another standing directly in their path. A revelation that provided not even the slightest hint of surprise.

“Which floor is this?”

“The eighth,” answered the cat. “And good morning, Claire. I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

“How long has it been?”

“Uhhhh like a whole day? Maybe half a day? We don’t actually know,” said Sylvia. “But it’s always night here, and sometimes it gets foggy randomly, kinda like that place in Skyreach Steppe you never went.”

“You mean the rocky island?”

“Yeah, that one!” The fox giggled. “Oh! And I’m pretty sure the mist here is more poisonous, but it’s not really hurting anyone that much.”

“It puts a dent in my health regeneration, but I don’t actively take damage. The same goes for Matthais,” said Natalya.

“But not her?”

Claire glanced at Arciel, who puffed up her disturbingly voluptuous chest with pride. “I am capable of filtering it out of my blood with my magic. It poses no threat whatsoever.”

“Right. Blood magic.”

The nonchalant dismissal left the sea creature, who was expecting praise, to awkwardly deflate and cover her face with her fan. None of their other companions had taken notice of the blush, but Claire caught it loud and clear. The reflective lizard sitting in her path provided an excellent view of everything that lay behind her. Claire had expected Boris, who had clearly never dealt with a status condition in his life, to be especially disturbed by the poison, but he was unbothered. The ikarett type arms was casually basking in the moonlight, perfectly relaxed with his lids occasionally sweeping past his eyes.

“Oh, Boris is immune to status effects,” said Sylvia. “Or at least I’m pretty sure he is, ‘cause I was trying to give him night terrors when I was bored the other day and it didn’t work.” There was a brief moment of silence as all the eyes in the party slowly centered on the fairy. “W-what?”

“Sometimes,” said Lia, “I think that you might be even scarier than Claire.”

“Huh!? What’s that supposed to mean!?” cried the fox. “I’m not scary! I’m fluffy and adorable! Oh! Wait!” She zoomed in front of the lyrkress face. “Claire, Claire!”

“What?” asked the lyrkress, as she checked her own reduced health regeneration.

“Who’s the fluffiest fox you’ve ever met?”

There was a brief moment’s pause, wherein the moose silently crawled out of her bubble and got to her feet.

“Uhm… Claire? Who’s th—”

“I heard you the first time,” said the chair. “I was thinking about it.”

“Huh!? Why would you need to think about it!?” Sylvia’s tail shot straight into the air as she raised both arms in protest. “I’m clearly the fluffiest one ever, right!? No one else even comes close!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure” The lyrkress adjusted her clothes, shifting it from armour into a more comfortable, hooded cloak. Saying nothing more, she pulled the leather over her ears and obscured her face. “Are there any monsters worth killing?”

“Hey, wait a second! You can’t just change the topic like that! Answer me already!” cried the desperate fairy.

“There’s no point. It’ll just make you mad.”

“Huh!? Wait, Claire!? Are you trying to say I’m not fluffy enough!? I thought you knew and appreciated how soft and comfy I was!”

“I do.” The scalewarden pinched the fairy’s face and scratched the top of her head. “But either way, this isn’t the time for this.” Though she tried to be brief, she made sure to get all the places that the tinier halfbreed enjoyed. Or at least the ones she enjoyed as a fox. She wasn’t quite sure how the fairy’s form would affect her comfort, but ignored the difference on account of making herself feel awkward.

“What’s that even supposed to mean!? Stop trying to dodge the question!”

“It means what I said.” She pinched the fox’s lips shut before spinning her around and turning her towards a distant light. “Listen closely.”

“Uhmmm… for what? I mean I hear a few voices but it’s just some voices and stuff. Oh, and some fire, but that’s pretty normal too.”

“I said, closely,” muttered Claire. “Whose voice do you think that is?”

“Ohhhhh! I get it now! You’re talking about the thing that has to do with the thing that has to do with buttstuff.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Lia, on behalf of the very confused, somewhat disturbed group. 

“This.” Claire lifted her left hand and focused on the contract. Its mark soon manifested, the yellowed symbols proving that both parties’ obligations were still pending. “There’s something I have to do for Pollux. So I can bind him to our agreement.”

“There is?” Lia blinked, her eyes shifting between the moose’s hand and face. “How come you never told me?”

“Because we negotiated the deal the morning we left.” Claire tightened her grip on Boris’ tail and started walking into the woods—“I’ll split off and catch up once I’ve wrapped up my business.”

“Wait, hold on!”

—but Natalya grabbed her by the shoulders before she could wander too far.

“We don’t have to split up. We can help.”

The Paunsean’s earnest gaze was met with a stare cold enough to send shivers down her spine. A glint even more reminiscent of his than usual.

“Don’t volunteer if you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” Claire tried to shake the hand off, but Natalya stayed firm.

“Then tell me what you’re planning.”

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“No.”

“Why not!?”

“Because I don’t feel like it.”

“That doesn’t explain anything!” The trembling catgirl tightened her grip on the shorter girl’s shoulders as her teeth dug into her lips. “I thought we were supposed to trust each other.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a matter of trust, just something you’re better off not knowing.”

“I want to know anyway.” Seeing her emerald eyes burning so brightly, the mooseblood heir could only raise a hand to her face and sigh.

“While it certainly pains me to disturb the two of you in the midst of your discussion, I must inform you that the circumstances have changed.”

Following Arciel’s fingers, the lyrkress moved her eyes in the direction of the fox’s snout. Through the darkness walked a single silhouette, accompanied by a lantern just weak enough not to fully illuminate him through the haze.

“Can you please shut the fuck up? We were trying to sleep.” The words were spoken in a clear, almost melodic voice.

“Hello, Nymphetel,” said Claire. She curtsied at him, her lips a crescent moon. “What a wonderful coincidence.”

Having failed to validate the speakers’ identities prior to making contact, the newcomer soon found himself stuck in a staring contest with a certain familiar lady.

Said lady’s mind coursed with annoyance as she looked upon him. Because of the commotion, he had not only caught wind of them, but confirmed that it was her group and not some other. Their shared history only drove him to further raise his guard when she needed it lowered.

“Good evening, my lady. It is always a pleasure,” he said, with his back suddenly straightening. “I am terribly sorry for the rude interruption, but I wish to request that you lower your volume. We are in the midst of recovering after a long day’s journey and would greatly appreciate the ability to rest in silence.”

Any sensible person would surely have complied with the ask and perhaps even found themselves feeling embarrassed. Claire, on the other hand, replied with a giggle.

“Oh, Nymphetel, you silly elf! That is not the correct way to ask anyone for anything. If you wish for us to quiet down, then you will have to defeat me in a duel.”

It was an absurd, insane request, the sort of unreasonable demand that one would immediately assume nonsensical, but the blackroot elf merely pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, and massaged his temple with the other.

“If you win, we will quiet down as you have asked of us. If I win, however,” Claire continued with a smile, “then you will have to follow one of my orders instead.”

“What is it that you desire, my lady?” he asked, with a suspicious glare.

Claire smiled. “Your capture.”

“I request additional info—ah, fuck it. I’ve had enough talking nice. That naggy bitch of a maid isn’t here to scold me, so I’m not even going to bother,” he grumbled. “I need details. ‘Cause it’s starting to sound like you’re working for that damned marquis.”

“I am. He wants you as a sex slave.”

The response sent a shiver up the man’s spine. “I would rather live with the noise than be bedded by him,” grumbled the elf, “or any other man for that matter. You do realise I’m still a guy, right? Even with this ridiculous curse?”

“Wait a second… is this the thing you weren’t telling me anything about?” asked Natalya.

“I told you,” muttered Claire, “that you wouldn’t want to get involved.”

“No I uhm…” The cat’s face twisted as she looked between the Cadrians.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sylvia darted between them and pointed a finger straight at Nymphetel’s nose. “You’re a liar, Nymmie! You were just doing it with Droksie!”

The elf’s face turned beet red, the blush creeping all the way up to his ears. “W-why do you know that!?”

“Because we could hear you, duh!” said the fox. “You guys were loud as heck!”

“So you do prefer men?” Claire cocked a brow, her face twisting into a grin. “I’m sure Pollux would be incredibly pleased to hear the news.”

“I suppose this would be the reason Admiral Ray’esce warned us against working with members of house Augustus,” whispered Arciel, to her knight.

“I heard it went just as poorly for you,” replied the mantis.

“That is a matter of perspective.”

“With all due respect, Princess, she destroyed our HQ.”

While the sea creature and her knight debated under their breath, the elf continued to avert his gaze, his face growing ever pinker. “Drohkchar is a woman,” he muttered.

“Ohhhhh… Wait, how’s that work anyway? Do skeletons even have lady parts? I mean I know that skeletons can have kids with the other races, but like, I dunno how that works, biologically?”

“Sylvia, that’s perverted!” scolded Natalya.

“Oh, shush! There’s nothing wrong with being curious! I just wanna know for science, and I bet you were thinking about it anyway.” The fairy paused for a moment before turning to her mount. “Actually, I think Al probably knows…”

“I’m not asking him for you,” said Claire.

“Awww… come on. Aren’t you curious?” asked the fox.

“No,” said Claire.

“Can you kindly shut the fuck up already?” said Nymphetel, with a groan. “This is a blatant invasion of our privacy.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault both of you were moaning super loud!” shouted the fairy.

“Please stop,” muttered the elf, his face buried in his hands.

“And plus! I’m still not sure that part about the not bedding guys is true ‘cause you kept calling Droksie your bone daddy!”

“Oh, for the love of the gods!” The elf groaned into his hands. “Claire Augustus. I accept your duel, but under a different condition. I want you and everyone else here to forget everything you heard tonight. And for you to ensure that this wretched creature never speaks of this again.”

“I accept,” said the lyrkress, her lips twisted into a grin. “Good job, Sylvia. You lured him in.”

“Huh? I was just being honest! It isn’t even my fault! Blame Nymmie!”

“Shut up,” said Nymphetel. “And stop calling me that. If you have to use a nickname, it’s Nymn.”

The elf picked a position a few dozen paces away from his opponent and drew his weapon. One hand sported a tiny buckler, while the other featured the same crimson sword he had used before. Its edge had been restored, resharpened and uncurled by one blacksmith or other.

Moving opposite him, Claire drew Boris with one hand and beckoned for him to engage with the other. This, of course, drew the forest dweller’s suspicion. Nymphetel narrowed his eyes, glancing around the environment before giving into her provocation and kicking off the ground like a rabbit. It was his usual speed, his usual style, and Natalya’s usual mistake.

Because while most of his body lurched forward, a vector pushed his ankle and moved it the opposite way. He continued to move, but not in the direction he hoped. His air-breaking momentum carried him straight into the ground and earned him a mouthful of dirt.

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