Dai-Mamori-no-Kami

  are, to Yolin Makav, something that is encountered once in a lifetime

  if one has good fortune. A sign that things will turn to one's favor.

  As the

  eigth child of Bosin Makav, a successful Scout that was part of Red

  Island's Comittee for State Security for two thousand years, she was

  raised to see things for what they truly are instead of what they

  appeared to be.

  To

  witness a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami is as much a sign of good fortune as it

  is of trouble.

  Trouble,

  however, is fun. It helps people grow and learn new things. Conflict

  leads to improvement, after all.

  As

  an individual following the Legacies of both Danuva and Shorvanna,

  combining the faith of the Clergy and the resilience of Warriors,

  Yolin Makav follows a simplistic yet absolutist view of the world.

  Does

  it respect the Dai-Satori-no-Kami?

  Does

  it respect the Dai-Mamori-no-Kami?

  Divines

  and Eternals are, in few words, the compass of the world.To go against them is to wander aimlessly—without path, goal, aim, ambition, or true meaning. It is through their Legacies that people find purpose. Anything else is void of value.

  Thus, simplicity becomes the highest aspiration. A good fight. A good whiskey. A good meal. An honest conversation. A patch of grass to rest upon.

  Life was simple—like the countless islands surrounding Red Island.

  Until

  she saw Miraztor Xipnak from afar one day.

  The Dai-Mamori-no-Kami, in his golden brilliance and Eternal grace, was beyond anything Yolin could appraise. A being at such a peak of existence that, for the first time in her life, she questioned her own worldview. Life, perhaps, wasn’t that simple.

  So

  she followed the compass pointing toward the peak.

  But

  then, if encountering Dai-Mamori-no-Kami was good fortune,

  what was the paper in her hands?

  Life had brought her to the city of Mountroad in the Lumin Kingdom. It was a relatively small settlement, though the Dungeon there was decent enough, in her opinion. The monsters consisted mostly of Mammals, Golems, and Insects. Traps were harder to find than hiding criminals, and the pay was good.

  So why?

  Why, after finally healing from heartbreak and deciding to give relationships another shot, was she staring at a single word on the paper?

  She

  had been called to meet potential partners, an Elf and a Luzo.

  But

  the paper in her hands?

  Raising her gaze to the women sitting on a couch across the table. One good eye studied them, while the other remained covered by an eyepatch—a reminder of a lapse in judgment, a moment of dumb arrogance.

  Alyssa

  Pruvik and Lapia Pofeta met her gaze, welcoming and warm smiles on

  their beautiful faces after they introduced themselves and their set

  of skills.

  Yolin

  Makav, daughter of Bosin Makav, saw things as they were.

  One of them was among the most famous Clerics in Leks' Chasing sphere, having acquired

  arguably the most complex Healing Class: Cardinal. The number of

  people capable of such a feat were counted with the fingers of one hand, yet some would remain folded! Out of two and a half billion

  people!

  The other was a former noble of the Queendom of Maaruuhk, from a family ranked third in its government. An Elven Master Wizard who had personally taught a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami for a decade!

  That

  wasn't simple, was it?

  Yolin

  looked down at the paper again, her good eye going over the first two

  lines written on it.

  Name:

  Natasha Novak

  Species: Halve (Forest)

  ''

  was a name she had never heard nor seen in her two hundred years of

  life—and the same was true for ''.

  The alliterative quality made it, in a way, rather cute in her

  opinion. Its phonetics stood out, piquing her curiosity. It carried a

  lyrical feel, almost like a name a Performer might come up with for

  an afternoon tale to entertain children.

  If encountering one Dai-Mamori-no-Kami

  was good fortune, what was meeting two?

  Yolin set the paper down on the table,

  her gaze flicking back to the two women sitting across from her.

  “So,” she began, leaning back in the couch and crossing her arms,

  “you’re looking for a Tank. And you’ve got a Halve with you?”

  She arched a brow, glancing briefly at the paper. “A Halve

  Warrior,” she specified.

  Fifteen thousand years was a long

  time. The last Halve Warrior, Rozmu Imokk, was the very example of

  Honor in Combat, rumored to lend Legendary weapons to whoever

  challenged him to a duel. His two greatswords always won, though.

  About

  time, the Oni thought. Serving

  a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami doesn't sound bad at all.

  Alyssa Pruvik chuckled, the sound deep

  and pleasant to the ear. “Not just a Tank,” she pointed out,

  slightly shaking her head. “We're not looking for a ,

  Yolin. We're looking for a partner in all the meanings of the word.”

  “A lover,” Lapia Pofeta chimed in,

  her tone teasing and light. “includes Natasha, by the

  way,” she added with cheeky smirk, her emerald green eyes squinting

  in mieschief.

  Yolin's brain took pause.

  The form she just read had a line

  pertaining to the Halve's .

  She

  has a penis, Yolin concluded,

  her mouth watering a little.

  Having

  focused on Tank Classes, Yolin Makav could endure almost everything

  that was around her level on her own... granted she didn't let her

  guard down like she did when she lost her eye. She had, so far,

  outlasted every lover she had in bed as well.

  But

  a Halve? A Warrior who's Total Level was one thousand three hundred

  and fifty?

  That

  was five hundred levels more than Yolin.

  But

  life was simple. If

  it wasn't, life could be simple.

  “Where

  is the Halve?” Yolin asked, having decided to give it a try.

  A

  good, simple fight would suffice. It would tell her everything she

  needed to know. Restraint, respect, care, and not any less important

  but wholly secondary due to being obvious, the Halve's strength.

  “Securing

  an Inn,” Alyssa Pruvik replied, the edges of her smile quivering in

  excitement. “You'll meet her soon enough.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Yolin

  had noticed, naturally. She was a Cleric, too.

  The Krystaali Luzo had scanned her no less than three hundred times in the minutes since they met, her red eyes following Yolin’s frame with an focus that could carve stone. At first, Yolin chalked it up to the healer’s professional instincts—perhaps assessing her muscles for any structural flaws, injuries, or irregularities that could hinder her role as a Tank. After all, Alyssa's reputation as a high-ranking cleric preceded her, and her scrutiny seemed meticulous enough to match.

  But no. It wasn’t just that.

  The healer’s gaze lingered too long on the curve of her shoulders, the ripple of her arms when she moved, the steady rise and fall of her chest. Yolin had caught her more than once tracing the lines of her abs with her eyes, as if mentally cataloging every muscle fiber.

  And then there was the tail.

  Luzo tails were expressive, even when they tried to hide it. Alyssa’s tail betrayed her thoughts, curling and uncurling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that matched the sway of hips when walking. It wasn’t random; it was purposeful. Yolin wasn’t oblivious—she had seen that same pattern enough to recognize it for what it was. The healer was checking her out, plain and simple, and not with the clinical detachment of a healer analyzing a patient.

  No, Alyssa was thirsty.

  Still, Yolin found herself entertained by the Healer’s attempts to conceal her interest. The rhythmic curling and straightening of Alyssa’s tail might have been subtle to some, but for someone as perceptive as Yolin, it was a dead giveaway. Luzo tails weren’t just for balance—they were an extension of emotion, a physical manifestation of what was otherwise left unsaid. And in this case, the tail spoke volumes.

  “She's

  quite a unique one,” Lapia Pofeta added with a playful tone.

  Yolin's

  eyebrows rose at that, her attention stolen. “Unique how?”

  “You’ll

  see,” Alyssa Pruvik answered with a knowing smile and look. “Let’s

  just say she’s not your typical Halve—whatever you think that

  might mean.”

  As

  if on cue, the double doors creaked open, carrying the sound of

  footsteps into the room's smooth floor.

  Yolin's

  good eye shifted to the source—a towering figure entering the room

  behind the Dwarf who had fetched her earlier.

  She

  was tall, one of two centimeters taller than Yolin, with a commanding

  presence that made the room feel smaller. Her hair was shining gold

  like the suns, cascading down her back to her knees like a peaceful

  waterfall, and her golden eyes gleamed with warm light. She carried

  herself with the kind of confidence that only came from knowing no

  one in the world could best her.

  Her

  clothes were simple—practical, even. Dark, comfortable looking leather garments that stuck to her figure, revealing sculpted and firm

  muscles everywhere Yolin's good eye landed.

  The

  woman's face carried an almost annoyed expression, as if glaring at

  the world in slight distaste. A straight nose, full lips in an almost

  frown, eyes a third closed, a strong and sharp jaw, high cheekbones,

  and the most noticeable detail: a horizontal golden line crossing the

  pupil.

  [Natasha,

  Forest Halve Lvl 450 Dragoon – Healthy – Hermaphrodite: Omniovary

  – Recently Born]

  Yolin's

  heart skipped a beat.

  It was one thing to hear tales of their presence, to read the ancient scripts detailing their unfathomable strength, or to listen to the reverent whispers of those who claimed to have glimpsed one from afar. But this—this was entirely different. The moment the woman entered, the air shifted. Not metaphorically, but physically, as though the weight of the world adjusted to accommodate her arrival.

  The stories didn’t do them justice. The aura she exuded was a primal force, raw and untamed, yet perfectly controlled. It prickled Yolin's skin, sharp and electric, like the moments before a thunderstorm unleashed its fury. A shiver raced down her spine, a visceral reaction she couldn’t suppress, as if her very instincts demanded she recognize the overwhelming presence before her.

  But Yolin Makav, daughter of Bosin Makav, was not one to be cowed. She saw things as they were, not through the filter of fear or awe. She forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze directly, taking in every detail of her striking features and imposing stature. What she saw surprised her.

  There was none of the arrogance often attributed to a Dai-Mamori-no-Kami—no sneering superiority, no haughty commands that demanded unquestioning obedience. Instead, there was a calm neutrality in her expression, an indifference so profound it bordered on amusement. The woman’s disinterested gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Alyssa and Lapia, before continuing as though cataloging details without assigning them undue weight.

  This lack of ego was unnerving in its own way. Yolin had met Warriors, Wizards, Clerics, Scouts, and Archers who bristled with self-importance, their postures stiff with pride or expectation. But this woman was different. She didn’t need to impose her will or prove her strength—it was evident in every step, in the way the room seemed to orbit her without her making any effort to command it.

  It wasn’t just her aura or her presence, though both were overwhelming. It was her silence. The kind that spoke volumes. Yolin had faced down monsters and Mortals alike, and there was always a certain predictability to how the strong carried themselves—a tendency to posture or boast. But this woman was beyond all that.

  This

  is it, she thought and

  stood up, crossing her arms under her chest to ground herself.

  “Hello,

  m—” she began, her voice smooth but firm.

  “Halve!

  Fight me!” Yolin interrupted, unable to hold back the grin

  spreading across her face. She took a step toward the golden Warrior.

  The

  Halve turned to the Elf and Luzo, then tilted her head ever so

  slightly, no reaction to being interrupted nor a duel being issued.

  The

  Dwarf at her side chuckled, clapping her back. “Good luck, Lady

  Natasha.” With that, he turned and left, closing the doors behind

  him.

  Natasha's

  throat moved in the telltale signs of a gulp, as if preparing for the

  meal in front of her, then took a step forward.

  With

  a surge of adrenaline, Yolin took a step of her own, standing firm

  under the studying glare of the Dai-Mamori-no-Kami.

  “No

  violence,” the golden Warrior stated with a shake of her head,

  resolute and firm.

  “Not

  violence,” the Oni corrected with a shake of her own head. “Just

  a fight for fun,” she clarified and turned to grab a form from the

  table, holding it out to her.

  She

  took it without hesitation, scanning it quickly before looking back

  at the Tank. “Natasha Novak,” she introduced herself softly, her

  voice silvery and smokey.

  “Yolin

  Makav,” Yolin introduced herself as well with a wide, excited smile.

  The

  Eternal's gaze lingered on Yolin for a moment, her golden eyes going

  over her frame before meeting hers again. “So you’re a tank?”

  she asked, switching to Orkish.

  Yolin

  felt a surge of excitement, her eyes widening in pleased surprise.

  “You know Orkish? Good!” She nodded. “Your form didn’t say

  anything about Languages. I guess you haven’t heard enough of them,

  yet. As you asked, I’m a Tank. Cleric base, Monk, Paladin, and

  Asura. I have various skills to redirect attention and increase

  durability, knowledge of fighting techniques, and I can inflict

  enemies with a few effects,” she explained her Classes. “How

  about you?”

  “I

  fight with a spear. Warrior base, Hoplite, Lancer, and Dragoon. I

  have a few auras and warcries, and skills to fight big monsters. My

  Lancer class benefits from riding a mount. I have a Ratnak,” the

  golden Warrior replied. Her voice was steady, calm, and oddly

  soothing.

  Yolin's

  eye kept focusing on her lips as she spoke. There was light in there

  as opposed to the dark chasm Mortals have for a mouth.

  Natasha

  glanced at Alyssa and Lapia, then focused back on Yolin.

  “Let’s

  fight, then,” Yolin urged, giving her a toothy grin. “We can bond

  later.”

  “Why

  do you want to fight me?” The Eternal asked, no change in her

  expression so far.

  “You’re

  a warrior.” she shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “I’d

  like to test my strength against a Halve.”

  To

  that, the Dai-Mamori-no-Kami

  Her golden eyes softened slightly, and she let out a quiet

  laugh. “Sure,” she said, a small grin forming on her lips. “I’ll

  hold back, though. I don’t really know the extent of my strength

  yet.”

  Once

  again, Yolin Makav, daughter of Bosin Makav, saw things as they were!

  The

  woman in front of her was, despite appearances, species, power,

  status, or age, a

  person.

  “No

  problem.” The Oni turned to the door, propelled by something new. A

  new emotion. Excitement and something else entirely. “Let's go

  outside, then,” she proposed.

  Yolin Makav, after encountering a second Dai-Mamori-no-Kami, found herself undergoing a surprisingly swift mindset readjustment.

  For all the legends and myths, all the grandiose stories woven around their existence, the truth was starkly different: they were simple. No convoluted motives, no airs of superiority, no elaborate games. They moved through the world with a directness that belied their immense power, as if their strength afforded them the freedom to simply be.

  Yolin liked that.

  She had always preferred straightforward things—clear challenges, honest people, and plain truths. The Halve’s disinterest in unnecessary drama or complication resonated with her. It was refreshing, grounding, in a way she hadn’t expected.

  she concluded with a wide smile.

  And Yolin liked simple things and people.