Chapter 470 - The Land of the Listlessly Lethargic II

  Cire assumed her true form as she leapt into the air. Her cloak became a pair of giant ear cuffs and her body morphed into that of a serpentine creature. Measuring just a little over nine meters, she was slightly smaller than she was just one ascension prior. The difference stemmed from a slight change in her shape. No longer did her size consider a potential rider’s comfort. Tuned entirely for combat, she was thinner and her muscles were more heavily compressed. Despite losing a bit of their volume, their mass was increased thrice over. The space efficiency was derived from her draconic observation, taken straight out of Builledracht’s book and applied to her own flesh in turn.

  Though still nigh impossible, it was much easier to tell that she had more than one set of pupils when she was in her true form. Her eyes were made up of an endless ocean of tiny dots, some rger and brighter than others. Smaller than even her cells, the billions of specks came together to make a pair of serpentine pupils that shone in a bright, piercing blue.

  Cire tucked in her legs—all four matched the taloned cws she had in her humanoid form—and manifested her wings. She had three pairs in all. They weren’t leathery like they used to be, nor were they made up of metal lizards, as they would have been in combat. Rather, each was made of a pair of jagged prongs shaped loosely like single-edged swords with their bdes turned inwards. Though seemingly an extension of her skeleton, they no longer made contact with the rest of her body. Rather, they were suspended a few inches from her front shoulder bdes. Her nervous system connected regardless, however, and processed sensations and inputs as usual. Likewise, the physical effects derived from their fpping were applied to her body as a whole,

  The peculiar shape was by her own design; a more standard pair of wings would have proven far too fragile. While her bones were effectively indestructible, thanks to the true ice used in their construction, the connections between them were not quite as sturdy. Even the weaker Cadrians had proven capable of severing her ligaments. Her father would recognize the weakness in a heartbeat. And at least if she was him, she would choose the most inconvenient moment to exploit it, such as when she needed to take off to escape one of his heaviest attacks. Of course, she could always make up the difference by modifying the vectors applied to her body, but the processing time required to react and resolve the issue could easily prove fatal.

  Cire continued considering simir topics as she journeyed across the sky. She paced the exploration, moving only as quickly as her mood demanded. Still, it didn’t take her long to return to Aurora’s domain.

  Stepping through the portal meant only for those who had cleared the trial already, Cire briefly looked over the winter goddess’ castle before drifting her way into the courtyard where most of her allies were gathered. She shrank as she got closer, assuming not her humanoid form, but a much tinier version of her true form. It was simply more convenient; it made it much easier for her to nd on the already crowded spectator’s bench without having to squeeze or contort her body.

  As a tiny little snake-moose only forty centimeters long—for some odd reason, her tiniest form had grown—she was free to sit wherever she pleased. The obvious choice was to nd in an almost person-sized space between two of the others, but she chose a certain maid’s p instead, on account of the extra cushioning wrought by her fluffy white apron. The maid in question was a bizarre creature somewhere between a succubus and a vampire. If not for her wings, her tail, and her glowing red eyes, she almost would have looked human, though that was hardly surprising considering that it was how she had started.

  Cire came to regret her choice of seat as soon as she made it. There were so many different weapons and tools hidden under Chloe’s clothes that getting comfortable almost seemed like a pipe dream. The maid in question, however, showed no sign of discomfort. She directed her gaze downwards, her red and white hair bob dancing in the wind as she adjusted her giant round gsses.

  “Oh, hey Cire.” Her composure was probably the only truly maid-like thing about her, especially considering the extent of her degeneracy.

  “Cire! You’re back!” Sylvia, the orange fox sitting on the other side of the bench, immediately perked up upon her mutual pet’s return.

  “Mhm. They were smallfry.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” giggled the furball.

  “Cire! You’re te! I thought I told you to come down to the courtyard first thing in the morning.” There seemed to be a voice in the wind, a bizarre, grating, all-too-familiar voice with no clear point of origin. “Cire? Cire! Stop ignoring me already! For Rikael’s sake, you’re not a child anymore!”

  After taking a moment to decide that the voice wasn’t worth any investigation, Cire crawled off the maid’s p and ventured onto the old elf sitting beside her. Sitting in a gentleman’s p didn’t exactly seem like the most appropriate thing, so she snaked up his arm and perched on his shoulders.

  Sylvia, who had been standing on her hind legs with her arms outstretched expectantly, pouted as she colpsed into a sad pile. Her ears and tail both drooped at once to elicit a giggle from the snake-moose.

  “I thought you’d be out for another few days at least,” said her new seat.

  “The orniferins were weak.”

  “Maybe to you. Not sure the rest of us would be all too willing to agree.”

  The elf had a gentle, mellow voice. It had an almost musical quality that betrayed his often less-than-elegant choice of words. His appearance was no gruffer than his tone. He had a face as smooth as a baby’s bottom and a nky frame that looked ready to be blown over at a moment’s notice. Just like his bright amber eyes, his bodily proportions were typical for a greenwood elf, but his overall impression was anything but.

  The fault y with his equipment. He was wearing the armour that the moon goddess had granted him just the other week. If he hadn’t pulled down the facemask, it would have covered everything from his toes to his nose. Made of a peculiar, jet-bck material, it was both stretchy enough to perfectly encapsute his body, but also surprisingly tough. A few quick tests had proven that no ordinary bde could pierce its protection.

  Krail had tried his best to hide it by wearing his usual robes atop it, but it was to no avail. One could easily see the suit on his hands and his forearms, and it was even more obvious around the area near his neck. The mask was bunched up like a bandana ready to be pulled over his features at a moment’s notice.

  Like Chloe, he didn’t spare her much more than a gnce before returning his eyes to their previous positions. Both benched party members were watching as Arciel sparred against Lana and Jules.

  It wasn’t a fair fight. The wolf-faced warrior and the cm-shelled caster fought their hardest, but neither was able to compromise the Vel’khanese queen’s position. Lana’s axe-handling skills had improved by leaps and bounds in the time she spent training in the mountains. Her weapon moved in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. It almost seemed to bend and flex into whatever position she needed even though the weapon was perfectly rigid. As, no amount of finesse could have allowed her to close the distance. She was bombarded by a dozen shadowy bolts every time she so much as took a step. She was given only two choices: defend or die, and neither allowed her to accomplish much of anything.

  Jules, likewise, had his back to the wall. He was casting like a madman, throwing out at least ten spells every second, but it was to no avail. Though he could spawn them directly on top of his target, his weaker spells had no effect, and his stronger ones were simply negated. Every time he thought he had a chance of nding a hit, a shadowy tentacle would appear from out of nowhere and outmuscle his magic.

  He had tried everything he could think of. He created extra explosions that flooded the surroundings with light, he used powerful area attacks that she had no means of destroying, and he snuck stealthy strikes into her supposed blindspots. Still, she was unharmed. New shadows were born from the light he produced, her tentacles shielded her from his wide-ranging explosions, and her defenses reacted even to attacks outside her purview.

  Arciel still clearly had a fair bit of leeway. She had a confident smile on her lips all the way through, and she had even paused for a moment to wave at Cire following her arrival. Though she had recently ascended, her appearance was effectively unchanged. She still had a head of long, raven-green hair, a legendary chest, and perhaps a little too much meat around the thighs.

  Allegedly, the ttermost part of the description was outside of her control. After all, the queen was a kraken, and her legs were just her tentacles folded together. The extra space was required to fit everything together. Or at least, that was what she cimed.

  Cire didn’t believe it for a second. Her camoufge skill certainly seemed to have a number of bizarre limitations, but she had explicitly stated that she was the one who designed any forms she took. Such a decration naturally led to the suspicion that she simply preferred it when her thighs were full enough for her stockings to dig into her flesh.

  “What are you two doing!? Lana, stop relying on your domain and learn to dodge! And Jules, I told you to stop sitting back! Rush in! She can’t block as well from up clo—”

  Again, Cire felt like she heard a particurly annoying voice, but she lowered her ears and blocked it out. She tried focusing on the spar instead, but it failed to hold her attention. She found little joy in watching Arciel toy with the others.

  Her gaze wandering again, she eventually found it resting on the still-sullen fox, who was still shooting her the odd, lonely gnce. Cire made a show of breathing a sigh and wandered over. There was probably some sort of unidentifiable organism in the space beside the orange furball, but whatever it was, if there was such an entity at all, she shoved it off the bench with her vectors.

  Sylvia glomped her immediately. With her mood turned on its heel, she pressed their cheeks together and happily nuzzled away. Though Cire did feel at least a little bit bad for teasing her, the fault was ultimately her own. If Sylvia wanted her attention, then she ought to have sat beside something other than the invisible, btant annoyance.

  “Mreep.” Cire made her tiniest form’s signature noise while pressing a talon against the fox’s face and pushing her away. She was usually happy to hug her, but as, the nebulous, rabbit-shaped glob of potential non-existence, had gotten back to her feet and started mouthing off.

  The precise words weren’t of much importance, though Cire wouldn’t have heard them even if they were. Another one of the features she’d included in her ascension was the ability to shut out the world by closing her ears. And as a certain obnoxious traitor had demonstrated, it worked beautifully. As, there was just one problem.

  Though she was neither listening to her rambling or looking in her direction, Cire knew exactly what the rabbit was saying. After all, her lectures always followed the very same structure, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce the nature of her rant.

  Still, Cire continued to ignore her. At the end of the day, while both of them would suffer if she maintained the behaviour, Allegra would be much worse off.

  It took another two or three minutes for Arciel to wrap up the spar. Having completely exhausted the other two, she stepped away from the makeshift battlefield with her lips twisted into a grin. Her giant witch hat bobbed as she approached. Its crowning red jewel matched the vampire squid’s crimson eyes, but that was the extent of her outfit’s coordination. The dark murky greens that made up her skirted corset certainly matched with her hair, but they cshed with her hat, and the bronze braces used for her chest and thighs certainly didn’t help to better her aesthetic.

  She wasn’t without any fault—the whole problem had arisen precisely because she insisted on wearing the relic she was gifted—but she couldn’t exactly be bmed for her odd appearance. She simply didn’t have anything else to wear. All of the outfits that she had packed were identical, and it wasn’t like there were any tailors all the way up in the mountains. Aurora, the winter goddess, likely would have supplied a few matching dresses if asked, but Arciel had refrained. They were imposing enough already by living in her castle; she didn’t feel right asking for more.

  “Man, that’s bullshit,” grumbled Jules. “Of course you’re gonna overwhelm us if you bst our asses nonstop with magic. You’re a goddamn aspect.” Cire couldn’t hear the cm’s words, but she could easily read his lips.

  “I refrained from leveraging the abilities I gained in the wake of my ascension.” Arciel pulled a fan from her hat and used it to half-cover the smug grin that had appeared on her lips. “I do believe I was capable of simir output immediately prior to my ascension.”

  “That’s a btant fucking lie and you know it.”

  “It is not. The rate of my improvement was merely greater than yours.”

  The cm groaned. It was hardly their first time sharing that exact exchange, and much to his chagrin, he felt like he was starting to be convinced.

  “Mreep,” said Cire.

  “How rude. I am only bragging as much as is necessary,” said Arciel. “Surely you would not deny the motivation it provides?”

  “Mnnnrreep. Meep mreep.”

  “Perhaps so,” said the squid. “And what might this suggestion of yours be?”

  “Mrreerp.”

  “Elysium? How intriguing. I would certainly not be against a visit.”

  “The pce from the stories?” asked Lana. The wolf girl approached after repcing her outfit with a loosely-cut fur from a nearby pile. It was a little too unprocessed to be considered a piece of clothing, but she didn’t seem too worried. After all, the garment it had repced had looked exactly the same.

  “Mrreeereep.”

  “North? Okay,” said Lana.

  “I believe that is three votes for Elysium then? Are there any objections?” asked Arciel.

  “Mmrreeep.”

  “Of course their opinions are relevant, Cire. It would be rude to simply disregard them.”

  “Yeah, I don’t get it,” said Jules. “I know I ask this every goddamn time, but how the actual fuck do you know what she’s saying?”

  “You need only to lessen your focus on her words.”

  “You’re saying that like it makes any sense.”

  “Mreep.”

  “You shut the fuck up. There’s no way it’s eas—wait a second.” Jules scratched his head as he stared at the tiny blue-white snake.

  “Mreep.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up. There’s no way my fly is open. I don’t even wear pants,” he said. “Wait, it happened again… Did anyone else get that?”

  “I’m pretty sure she was talking about farming experience,” said Sylvia.

  “And I was under the impression that her intention was to bel you a moron,” said Arciel.

  “It does call the validity of your cims into question if none of you are in agreement,” said Krail. “How do we know that she’s actually saying anything in the first pce? How can we be sure she isn’t just messing with us and making random sounds?”

  “Highly likely,” agreed Lana

  “Mmmnnn, I wouldn’t put it past her, but I was reading her mind this time,” said Sylvia.

  “She could be saying one thing and thinking another,” said Krail.

  “Mreep.”

  “You say that, but everyone knows your love for mischief,” he replied.

  “Mrnnnrneep.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it. It’d take me a lot more than just my hands to count the number of times you’ve stirred up trouble for fun.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, now he’s doing it too, and I’m back to hearing those stupid ass mreeps.” Jules pinched the bridge of his nose while Cire twisted her lips into a grin.

  The orniferins might have been worthless, but it was shaping up to be a good day regardless.