As I lay in the bath, warm water soothing my aching muscles, I allow myself a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. This right here? This is heaven. Fuck that survival shit. I'm made for luxury baby. The steaming water laps at my bruised body, making me wince. Damn it. That bitch Ilka...if only she warned me about the side effects. I mean, the footwork is cool, but not worth the pain.
Beneath the comforting haze of warmth, a thought strikes me. I should probably check my stats. It's been ages since I last opened that system, and, well, given the beating I've been through, there must be some improvement. After a moment of internal debate – seriously, do I want to ruin this moment of peace? – curiosity gets the better of me.
"Hey, System," I grunt, feeling oddly self-conscious, "Show me my improvements."
A screen pops up, and I squint at it, water droplets clinging to my lashes.
[status window]
[Strength: 2 ➩ 63.9⇮
Agility: 1 ➩ 99.8⇮
Intelligence: 110
Vitality: 0.5 ➩ 23/105.9⇮
Endurance: 1.5 ➩ 7.3⇮
Dexterity: 0.7 ➩ 3.1
Charisma: -3 ➩ -2⇮⇩]
A low whistle escapes my lips. Not too shabby, Kael. Not too shabby at all. My eyes linger on the Charisma stat though. Seriously, -2? What the actual fuck? It's a mistake, right? There's no way, it must be a fake.
"You must be kidding, right?" I sputter, feeling a strange combination of outrage and incredulity. I mean, I get it, I'm not handsome, but -2? That's just overkill.
[I can see your tears dripping down lmao]
"Forget it," I grumble, sinking deeper into the water. A thought occurs to me. It's a masochistic thought, but then again, I've never claimed to be a paragon of self-preservation. Show me Isadora's stats.
[-20 points]
[Strength: 240.4⇮
Agility: 260.9⇮
Intelligence: 99
Vitality: 195/210.7⇮
Endurance: 25.1⇮
Dexterity: 30.4
Charisma: 25⇮]
For a moment, I just stare, my brain going blank. Then, the indignation hits me like a freight train. "What the fuck System!" I explode, splashing water everywhere. "You can't just deduct points without asking me!"
[Should have read the terms and conditions, look at the fine print.]
I groan, sinking my head back against the rim of the tub. Goddamn it. My body is aching, my stats are pathetic in comparison to Isadora's, and my Charisma is in the negatives.
Just to add salt to the wound, my brain chimes in: "And Ayla wants to see you."
My groan morphs into a primal scream, echoing in the tiled bathroom. "Fuck my life!"
Clicking my tongue, I take one last glance at the steam-covered mirror before turning away. The reflection does show someone of average looks, but who cares about that? This world, with its weird beauty standards, doesn't understand true charm. Yeah, that's it. It's them, not me.
I step out of my quarters, making my way down the cold, stone corridor, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on me. Ha! Let them look. The door to Professor Ayla's office looms ahead. I smirk. That poor elf is waiting for me.
I unlock the door and step inside. The sight that greets me is both familiar and peculiar. There's Professor Ayla, her perfectly pointed ears poking through her hair, looking...relaxed? But, of course, the twist is how she suddenly throws a wine bottle at me. Without missing a beat, I catch it mid-air, giving her a nod. "Nice," I remark, unscrewing the cap and taking a generous swig. The taste is fruity and strong; damn, this elf's got taste!
"You really are a great actor," Ayla drawls, lounging back in her chair, her feet kicked up on the table. "Acting all weak, even forcing your body to take damage. All for your cover, huh?"
I almost choke on the wine. Did she just...? My soul... I gulp down the urge to splutter, instead forcing a smirk. "All part of the job, Ayla."
Her eyes narrow for a moment, and then she chugs her own wine bottle. In one go. I raise an eyebrow. This... is new.
"So," I drawl, leaning back and crossing my legs, "why the meeting? You're not congratulating me on the test, are you? If anything you'd be mad," I can't help but internally chuckle, she must have been having a good time.
Ayla's eyes roll as she refills her glass, emptying yet another bottle. "Tsk, It's thanks to you my vacation was extended a couple more days. I'm sure you know why. Vanishing from the academy's radar? Leaving everyone panicked? Do you know how much I had to do to stop them from sending someone after you? What were you doing?"
I reach into my pocket and grab the remnants of the magic stone, tossing it onto the table between us. "Surprised you professors didn't find this gem. Thought mutant creatures popping up was natural?"
She leans forward, examining the stone. "A magic stone? Causing mutations? There is no trace of mana in these shards."
I click my tongue, leaning further into the couch and resting my feet on the coffee table. "It was huge. Kept spewing mana, causing all those lovely mutations. You should thank me. Left unchecked, you'd have some genuine abominations on your hands, you're lucky I found it before any more tests are taken,"
Grinning, I confidently declare, "It was intentionally planted. Took me three days to drain the stone of its power. Just tell them I stumbled into some hidden dungeon and couldn't find my way out. Don't worry about Seraphina, she'll stay quiet."
I strut over to the window, losing myself in the serene view of the vast sea before me. But the reflection in the glass shows Ayla staring at me, her eyes scrutinizing my every move. Ugh, what now? That look is clearly the 'I-want-something-but-am-too-shy-to-ask' look. Might as well get this over with.
With a heavy, exaggerated sigh, I turn and ask, "Alright, what do you want?"
The moment the words leave my lips, she jumps in eagerly. "Well, since you're so kindly offering, I need you to... help me get rid of my father."
My eyebrows raise so high, they might as well fly off my forehead, why'd she have to say it so shamelessly? "Your father? The middle-ranking Chief of Justice in the Elven kingdom?" So he made his move already? I thought he would make it in a month or two.
Her eyes give a slight flinch. "Ah, you want to avoid the siltra ceremony," I surmise, feeling quite pleased with my knowledge. I mean, it would be weird if I didn't know this.
Ayla smirks, impressed. "So you've done your homework. I've heard a lot about P.O.B., but I didn't expect you to find out so soon."
She then proceeds to pick up a peculiar plant from her desk. It's an uncanny blend of a tree and a rose, pristine white in color. My intrigue must be evident because Ayla goes on, "Undergoing the ceremony means I'd be unable to experience any more bloodletting. It essentially changes the core of my nature. And..." she hesitates for a second, "I won't be able to do the one thing that's most natural for an elf."
Oh, I know where this is going. But I'm playing along, theatrics are fun after all. "And that would be?"
Without warning, she takes out a wooden knife adorned with delicate flowers and makes a cut on her arm. I try to look shocked, I think I'm overdoing it. The blood drips onto the plant, which instantly glows a brighter shade of white.
"This was once a mere blade of grass. I've nurtured it since childhood," she explains.
Despite already knowing this, I can't help but whistle in appreciation. It's so cool, when her blood makes contact with the plant it connects both of them. "I'm aware of the strict laws between high elves, being a professor here is already a miracle."
"So, what was the threat?" I prod, genuinely curious now.
She looks me straight in the eyes, her gaze piercing. "He said a P.O.B. agent will take me by force if needed. I know you said you can't break your cover, but can you do it this once, please,"
Sighing, I rub the bridge of my nose. Great, just what I needed. "Bloody hell, I'm not a damn P.O.B. agent! I can't stroll up to one of those lunatics and ask him for a favor. It's like asking a fire to be cold." It's truly troublesome.
But then, a wicked smirk forms on my face. I might not be one of them, but I know how to play their game. "It's not like I'm without solutions. We just need to give a dear old man something shinier to chase."
Ayla's already drowning her sorrows. "Hah! Don't look so glum," I say, amused. I bet she thinks I'm about to abandon her. Little does she know, this is not a bad opportunity, it just so happens that elves are rather nosy.
I stride over to her desk, pushing aside numerous bottles and scrolls, finally finding a pen and some decent paper. Oh, what a devious thought! Let's just whip up a little invitation to the sale of The Dragon's Eye Sniper. High elves wouldn't know about it just yet, but if we give them a heads-up, they'll forget about your little ceremony. I mean, come on, who'd miss the chance to nab a national-grade weapon?
As I scribble, making sure to add a touch of authenticity with some hidden texts, I can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. There's mischief, and then there's what I'm doing. Free advertising~
I fold the letter neatly and seal it with one of Ayla's wax seals (I hope she won't miss it). Handing it to her, I instruct, "Just pass this to your chum Naissie. Tell her to hand it over to her dad."
Ayla's eyes widen. "Y-you knew about Naissie? But she's royalty! Her information is erased daily! How'd you find out? Is it really necessary to involve the king? Can't I just give this to my father?"
God, the number of questions! I snatch her nearly empty wine bottle and down the remaining liquid. The taste burns, but it's satisfying. "Hand it to the king. If he gets this, I promise he'll skip this year's ceremony." With the current power struggle between the elves, the king won't want to miss out on attending, I doubt he will buy it but he'll definitely attend.
She gasps, apparently shocked. "Skip the ceremony? But the preparations, the resources, the money... it's an immense affair! Can they even postpone it?"
I place the empty bottle down, smirking at her. "Ugh, Ayla, refrain from prying too much. You'll end up ensnared in some nasty elven politics. And trust me, that's a messier game than any dungeon."
The transformation was swift. From drowning in anxiety, Ayla's face turned rosy, and a chuckle bubbled from her lips. She started slow, stifling her giggles behind a hand. And then, like a dam breaking, full-blown laughter erupted, shaking her entire frame. "HAHAHA! Serves you right, father! Thank you so much," she managed to get out between peals of laughter. "Oh, I can just picture it. His smug face crumpling up when he hears the ceremony's off!"
Watching her, my mind races. Wow, talk about deep-seated resentment. Just how bad is their relationship? She seems elated about screwing over her own father. Not that I can judge...
Wiping a tear from her eye, Ayla regains her composure, though her eyes still dance with mischief. "Alright, I need to meet Naissie. How about we end our little rendezvous?"
A surge of relief washes over me. Finally! "Yes, yes, that's fine," I mutter, a little too eagerly. I've been in this meeting for what feels like hours. Or maybe it's just her incessant talking? All I know is that I desperately crave my bed. My soft, plushy, warm bed. "Make sure you don't get lost in any 'hidden dungeons' on your way, okay?"
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I'm taken aback. Was she always this childish? Or does she feel comfortable enough to do childish faces around me? Ugh, elves. I dont even remember how much I wrote about them, "Thank you, V," she says, more sincerely this time, "I mean it."