Chapter 106 Something Comes from Beyond the Sky ⁕
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The workshop was tidied in a rush, tools clattering into their places as we made for the bath, hand in hand.
Ethelena tugged me into the changing room, her fingers warm and insistent. Clothes fell away, half-shed in our haste, until the air grew heavy with want.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled her close, her bare skin soft against mine, and kissed her deeply, tongues entwining with a hunger that drowned out the world.
Our breaths mingled, slick and warm, the sound of it echoing faintly like water lapping at a shore. When we parted, a delicate thread of saliva stretched between us, glistening, fragile, a bridge of our shared need.
My restraint snapped. I’d held back too long, the ache too sharp.
Before we even reached the bath, I slid Ethelena’s undergarments aside and pressed myself into her. Her warmth enveloped me, tight and slick, her inner walls pulsing as if drawing out every ounce of my pent-up desire.
Gritting my teeth, I moved, standing firm as she wrapped one leg around my waist, the other braced against the floor for balance. Her grip tightened—whether from the strain of holding herself steady or the intensity of the moment, I couldn’t tell.
Each thrust burned through me, pleasure searing my nerves until I could no longer resist. I drove deep, releasing everything into her core, my legs trembling as I fought to keep us upright. Leaning against the wall, I steadied her, refusing to let her fall, even as my own strength threatened to give way.
As the haze of climax faded, my gaze found Ethelena’s. She clung to my chest, her body trembling, her eyes meeting mine with a flicker of reproach.
”Tatara,” she murmured, her voice soft but edged, “you’re too rough.”
Even as she chided me, she pressed closer, her arms tightening around me, her cheek brushing against my skin.
”I want to savor this,” she said, her tone half-pleading, half-teasing. “Let’s at least finish undressing and do this properly inside.”
If I could’ve agreed, I wouldn’t have lost control in the first place.
Ignoring her words, I carried her into the bath, urgency overriding reason. I laid her down on the tile, my last shred of restraint conjuring the familiar playmat beneath her.
She resisted at first, pushing back, but I kissed her fiercely, pinning her legs in a wide V to still her struggles. Each thrust was deliberate, deep, pulling back just shy of release before plunging in again.
Her resistance melted, her body yielding as pleasure overtook her. The second climax came swiftly, filling her once more as I moved, ensuring nothing was left behind.
When I paused, catching my breath, I saw Ethelena lying there, one arm draped over her eyes, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Guilt pricked at me—I’d gone too far.
I shifted to pull away, but my hand caught the shower knob, and warm water cascaded over us. Her clothes, still half-on, clung to her skin, translucent, her curves gleaming under the wet fabric. The sight stirred me again, my body responding before my mind could protest.
I lifted her, facing her fully, and entered her a third time. She let out a cry, sharp and almost pained, but her body welcomed me, her legs locking around my waist, her arms circling my neck. I thrust harder, the sound of our bodies meeting reverberating through the steam-filled room.
Her voice broke into wordless gasps, and I sealed her lips with mine, driving into her with a rhythm that grew faster, relentless. The third release came too soon, her cry mingling with my own as she shuddered in climax, collapsing against me, spent. Yet even then, my body refused to relent, already stirring for a fourth round.
”Tatara,” she said, her voice hoarse but gentle, “I get it. I’ve been holding back too, and it’s hard to stop. But if you’re too rough, you’ll break me.”
”Yes,” I managed, barely audible.
”I mean it,” she said, a faint smile in her voice. “You’ll ruin me.”
”Yes,” I repeated, but the word felt hollow. I hadn’t stopped—not even close. Six rounds later, I finally found some semblance of calm. Now, I lay on the mat, Ethelena straddling me, her hips moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The fight wasn’t over.
Her hands pressed against my stomach, her legs spread wide, flaunting our connection as she moved. Bound by her restraint magic, I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t reach for the tantalizing curves swaying before me. As a self-proclaimed connoisseur of such sights, it was torture.
”Do you even understand?” she teased, her voice playful but pointed. “I’m punishing you, and you look like you’re enjoying it.”
”Ethelena,” I said, grinning despite myself, “if you think this is punishment, you’d have to turn into a child to make it work. Sex with you is always a reward.”
Her laugh was half-exasperated, half-amused. “I can’t tell if I should be flattered or frustrated that you love me too much for this to work.”
Don’t underestimate the depth of my love, I thought, though I kept silent. There were lines even I wouldn’t cross—other paths we both shied away from, unspoken fears and limits tied to creating life, to consequences neither of us was ready to face.
”Turning into a child…” she said, her voice softening with memory. “Last time we tried that, I nearly broke. You know that.”
I did. That experience had left her trembling, consciousness slipping away, and me wondering if I’d ever recover from the guilt.
If I’d gone through that as a kid, I’d probably be terrified of women for life.
Trying to distract myself from the thought, I focused on her rhythm, but it was no use. The pleasure overtook me, and I released again, her body drawing it out, converting it into mana with that mysterious succubus biology I’d never quite understood.
”Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, her eyes lighting up as if struck by a revelation. “I’ve got it!”
I braced myself. Her “brilliant ideas” usually spelled trouble—more shadow than light.
She pulled away, closing her eyes as light enveloped her, bursting outward. When it faded, she stood before me as a child, her form small and delicate, yet unmistakably Ethelena.
”Come on, Tatara,” she said, her voice high and teasing. “Let’s have some fun like this!”
”Don’t even joke about that,” I snapped, my tone sharper than I meant.
No matter how much she looked like Ethelena, no matter her curves or the way she carried herself, this was a line I wouldn’t cross.
A child’s form—130 centimeters, maybe a C-cup, soft flesh in all the right places—was still a child’s form. To feel anything for it would be a crime, plain and simple.
”I mean it,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “I don’t have that kind of taste, Ethelena. Not even for you.”
She wilted slightly, her bravado faltering. “…Sorry.”
”It’s like looking at our daughter,” I said, the words surprising even me. “If we had a kid, this is what I’d imagine. Getting turned on by that? That’s the end of me.”
Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and something softer. Behind her, I swore I saw a shadow—someone nodding, arms crossed, as if in approval.
”Ugh,” she groaned, “now you’re making it sound like I’m the weird one for trying it with little Tatara back then.”
”That was borderline traumatic,” I admitted. Pinned down, unable to resist—it had been overwhelming in the worst way.
”Okay, okay,” she said, her voice brightening again. “How about this?”
Before I could protest, her mana enveloped me, warm and tingling. In an instant, my body shifted, shrinking to match her childlike form.
”Ethelena,” I said, my voice tight, “explain.”
She grinned, radiant and unrepentant.
”If you can’t see me that way as you are, then let’s be the same age. Now you can, right?”
”Throw that idea away,” I said, exasperated. But the real problem was my body—already reacting to her, traitorously eager despite my protests. Damn this lack of self-control.
”Hehe, Tar-kun,” she teased, slipping into a playful, sing-song tone, “you like E-chan, don’t you?”
”Slow down,” I said, my head spinning. “My brain can’t keep up.”
Was this some kind of childhood friend fantasy? Her next words only deepened the chaos.
”Mama told me,” she said, her voice innocent but mischievous, “when a boy sees a girl naked and his thing gets big, it means he likes her.”
”Kids that age aren’t exactly discerning,” I countered, memories of my own embarrassing moments flooding back—moments when even an “Archangel” had triggered reactions I’d rather forget. The shame had nearly driven me to the edge, only softened by her gentle, understanding pat on the head.
”Mmph,” she pouted. “You’re no fun, Tatara.”
”What am I supposed to do with this roleplay?” I said, floundering. “I’ve got no script for this.”
Undeterred, she pressed on, her voice bright and coaxing. “Hey, Tar-kun, you promised you’d marry E-chan someday, didn’t you?””
So that’s the game we’re playing—a childhood promise of marriage, sealed in the innocence of youth. The idea tugged at something deep, a faint memory of a promise made long ago, or maybe just a trick of the mind.
”If E-chan grows up and still loves me,” I said, playing along, my voice soft but teasing, “then maybe.”
”I do love you!” she shot back, her eyes fierce with childish conviction.
”You’ll meet someone cooler, stronger,” I said, shrugging. “First loves are like that—they fade.”
The exchange felt like a scene from a play, all earnest drama and tender promises, but the setting shattered the illusion. Here we were, stark naked in the bathroom, steam curling around us, the absurdity of it all threatening to break the moment.
”I’ll prove it!” Ethelena declared, her voice rising with determination. “I’ll show you I’ll love Tar-kun forever!”
Before I could respond, she lunged, tackling me with all the force her small frame could muster. Predictable.
But I was stronger, even in this childish body. With a quick twist, I flipped her beneath me, pinning her gently to the mat.
”See, E-chan,” I said, grinning, “I’m stronger. Give it up.”
”No way!” she huffed, squirming beneath me. “I’m gonna marry Tar-kun! I’ll prove it!”
Her stubbornness sparked a mischievous urge. Time to play dirty.
”If you’re so sure,” I said, letting my voice drop, “then let’s do this.”
I pressed myself against her, my body still primed despite the absurdity of our forms. Her eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through her roleplay as I nudged against her entrance.
”Teacher said,” I teased, leaning close, “if I put it in and, y’know, do that, we’ll make a baby. If you keep being stubborn, I’ll skip the marriage and just make you mine like this.”
The words sounded ridiculous even to me—something out of a banned game, the kind that’d get yanked off shelves for crossing every line. It was all pretend, a silly roleplay, but still, I cringed at the thought.
”That’s not true!” she protested, her voice high and indignant. “Mama said babies only happen when two people love each other!”
Even in play, the idea of two kids fumbling with half-baked knowledge, accidentally stumbling into something as heavy as a child—it was a nightmare scenario. I shoved the thought away before it could spiral further.
Don’t think about it. It’ll only make you want to crawl into a hole.
”Fine,” I said, meeting her gaze. “If we do this and no baby happens, then it means we don’t love each other, right?”
”I do love you!” she insisted, her voice trembling with conviction.
Her commitment to the role was almost too much. Sighing, I gave in, easing myself into her.
Her body, reverted to a childlike state, felt impossibly tight, like forcing a path where none existed. Pain flickered through me, sharp and unfamiliar, but her reaction was worse—she clung to me, her nails digging into my skin, her face contorted with the agony of her first time.
Mana deprivation had reset her, making this moment as raw and real as her true first. My own magic, stunted in this form, couldn’t ease her pain.
Desperate to distract her, I nibbled her ear, hoping to shift her focus. Her grip softened slightly, her body relaxing just enough to let me move deeper. Her walls resisted, squeezing so tightly it hurt, but slowly, I pushed through until I was fully inside.
”There,” I said, my voice strained. “All the way in. You okay, Ethelena?”
”I… I think so,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “First times… they hurt like this, huh?”
Blood seeped from where we joined, a stark reminder of her pain.
Yet, twisted as it was, a part of me relished it—the primal satisfaction of claiming her first, twice over. Guilt and desire tangled in my chest, but I couldn’t dwell on it.
”I’m gonna move,” I said softly. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
”I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice laced with pain but stubborn resolve. “I’m a succubus… it hurts, but… it’s starting to feel good.”
Her words didn’t ease my worry. Normally, I’d have lost my nerve, but her succubus nature kept me hard, overriding my doubts.
I moved slowly, her body fighting me with every thrust, her walls gripping like they wanted to expel me. Each pull back grazed her entrance, each push forward drove deeper, and gradually, her resistance eased. Her body adapted faster than I expected—succubus physiology, built for this, molding to me with unnatural speed.
Her pained expression softened, a flush of arousal creeping into her cheeks. Her smaller frame trembled beneath me, her breasts—still firm, still hers—swaying with each thrust. I released her hips, my hands finding those curves, kneading their unfamiliar firmness.
Her nipples, hard and defiant, begged for attention. I took one in my mouth, rolling it gently, savoring her sharp gasp. Her walls pulsed in response, driving me to the edge.
I leaned over her, sealing our bodies together, and let go. The release was overwhelming, a flood I poured into her, my hips moving to ensure every drop reached her core.
Her childlike form could only take so much—one round, and she’d be spent.
I made sure it counted. When I pulled back, our eyes met, and I kissed her deeply, the intensity of the moment lingering despite the absurdity of the act.
Later, we sat in the bath, washing each other in silence, the warm water soothing our aches. Ethelena nestled against me, her arms wrapped around my chest, her voice soft as she answered my call.
”What, Tatara?”
”When does this magic wear off?” I asked, glancing at our still-childish forms. “If we’re stuck like this by morning, we’re not getting into school. They’ll kick us out on sight.”
”Hmm… I don’t know,” she admitted, her tone light but unhelpful.
Our clothes were a lost cause—my shoulders too narrow for my shirt, her chest too full for hers. Dahlia’s old armor disaster flashed in my mind; Ethelena would fare no better.
”We could just sleep naked,” she suggested, mischief in her eyes. “Cuddle up, keep each other warm.”
”That’s a one-way ticket to a cold,” I shot back, shaking my head.
The water grew too warm, our small bodies overheating quickly. Her cheeks flushed red, and I felt the heat creeping up my own.
We climbed out, pulling on makeshift pajamas—my shirt sagging off my shoulders, hers barely containing her. She laughed, finding it amusing, probably because it was her own clothes betraying her.
Stepping out of the changing room, we ran straight into Yohira and Ichika.
”What in the world…?” Yohira’s voice trailed off, her eyes wide.
”Ethelena’s Sex Sorcery,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
”You’ve truly been turned into children,” she said, her tone caught between disbelief and amusement.
”No idea if we’ll be back to normal by morning,” I added. “And these clothes aren’t helping.”
”Why not sleep with Okusama?” Ichika suggested, her voice calm but teasing. “She’ll keep you warm.”
Ethelena nodded eagerly, and I shot her a look. “You’re not planning to drain me dry in there, are you?”
Child or not, another round would kill me. My HP was already hanging by a thread.
”If warmth’s the goal,” I said, deflecting, “why not all of us pile in together?”
”Yeah!” Ethelena chimed in, her eyes gleaming. “Torakuma and Ichi-san can hold us tight!”
”Ichi-san?” Ichika blinked, caught off guard. “You mean me-degozaru?”
Yohira raised an eyebrow. “Is that wise?”
”I’m against it,” I said flatly. “Wake up surrounded by everyone I love? If I’m back to normal, I’ll lose it and go feral. This state’s already got my head spinning—imagine the chaos when my body’s fully charged.”
Ichika sighed, a rare smirk breaking through. “Frustrating, but fair-degozaru.”
The morning came, and with it, relief—my body was mine again, adult and whole. But, as I feared, my manhood was already raring to go, pulsing with a vigor that made me groan.
Before I could wrestle with the implications, a knock sounded at the door. I opened my mouth to send whoever it was away, but the lock clicked, and Ichika stepped in.
”Morning-degozaru, Master,” she said, her voice calm but her eyes glinting with something unreadable.
”Uh, morning,” I stammered, caught off guard, my mind racing to keep my body in check.”
Ichika barely paused for pleasantries before striding to the bed and yanking back the covers.
My manhood stood brazenly exposed, straining toward the ceiling. She shed her clothes without hesitation, her generous breasts enveloping me, their softness tempered by a firmness that pressed just right.
”Truth be told,” she murmured, her voice low and tinged with longing, “I’d rather you take me right here, Master-degozaru.”
Her words hung in the air as she began to move, her breasts stroking me with deliberate care. They weren’t Ethelena’s, but they held me in a warm, unyielding grip, coaxing my desire with every motion.
”My body’s not ready for that yet,” she continued, her tone apologetic but resolute. “This will have to do-degozaru.”
She worked me skillfully, sliding up and down, alternating sides, her tongue flicking over the tip, then drawing it into her mouth with a gentle suck. The sensation built relentlessly, and when I could take no more, I pressed her head down, ensuring every drop spilled into her mouth.
Her eyes watered, but she swallowed determinedly, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. A dark thrill stirred in me at the sight.
”Ichika,” I said, my voice rough, “make sure you get every last bit.”
She obeyed, her lips sealing around me, drawing out what remained with careful precision.
Her golden hair, no longer disguised by magic, shimmered in the morning light. When she finished, swallowing the last of it, I reached out, stroking her head gently in silent praise.
Breakfast came next, Ichika multiplying herself with her cloning technique to whip up a meal with alarming efficiency. I offered to let her rest after her efforts, but she brushed me off, eyes blazing with determination.
”I can handle anything right now-degozaru,” she insisted. Not wanting to dampen her spirit, I left her to it and headed for the shower, washing away the morning’s traces. The academy awaited, and I couldn’t afford to carry any telltale scents.
In the living room, Ichika had finished cooking, leaving me little to do but carry dishes to the table.
As I settled onto the sofa, basking in the morning sun with Ichika curled on my lap, Ethelena and Yohira entered. Relief washed over me—Ethelena was back to her adult self, her wry smile catching my gaze.
Yohira stepped outside to begin her morning dance practice, her movements fluid and mesmerizing as always.
Then Hinagiku-san shuffled in, her tacky T-shirt signaling no progress with her own fool of a partner. I waited for Yohira’s practice to wind down before nudging Ichika awake.
Breakfast was bacon and eggs, toast, a fresh salad, and a hearty minestrone. I couldn’t help but marvel at Ichika’s effort—vegetables weren’t her forte, yet the soup was rich and comforting.
”I hate to admit it,” Hinagiku-san began, her voice grudging but impressed, “but this foolish fox’s soup is remarkable. The tomatoes anchor it, with potatoes, onions, carrots, and cabbage blending into a sweet, harmonious depth. The tomatoes’ acidity and the onions’ sharpness have softened into sweetness, complemented by the cabbage’s natural sugars. The smoked meat’s seasoning and fat melt into the broth, creating a profound richness. And the potatoes, slightly dissolved, give it a perfect hint of thickness.”
”Just eat it-degozaru, Pork Chrysanthemum,” Ichika snapped, her tone a mix of familiarity and exasperation.
Her sharp retort cut through Hinagiku-san’s unwitting food critique, a dynamic born of long acquaintance and mild annoyance.
We ate heartily, and when the dishes piled up, Ichika and Yohira insisted on handling them. Feeling a twinge of guilt, I let them take over, and Ethelena and I headed out.
Walking side by side, I noticed something off about the sky. Thick clouds weren’t unusual, but the golden light spilling from beyond them felt… wrong.
”What’s this?” I muttered, unease creeping in.
Ethelena stroked her tail, her expression tense.
”It’s making my tail tingle,” she said. “If the weather’s doing this, it’s not good for those with Nightkin blood.”
At the academy, the strange weather’s effects were clear.
Students with Nightkin heritage looked off—pale, sluggish, unwell. The classroom greeted us with half-hearted responses to our hellos, except for the usual loudmouth.
”Yo, Tatara, Ethelena!” he called, oblivious as ever. “You guys look rough. What’s up?”
”The weather’s hitting hard,” I said. “Seems like anyone with Nightkin blood is feeling it.”
The pattern was undeniable, and a bad feeling gnawed at me.
Then it clicked. “Hey, do you know where Scientia’s classroom is?”
”Next door,” he said casually.
Thanking him, I headed over, a slight nervousness buzzing in my chest. I rarely visited other classrooms.
Knocking first, I opened the door and called out, my tone formal, almost businesslike.
”Excuse me. Is Kalmia Scientia-sama here?”
A flustered Scientia emerged, less dazzling than yesterday but still striking.
”Y-y-yes!? Kalmia Scientia, at your service!” she stammered, her voice pitching high.
”No need to shout,” I said, suppressing a smile. “Your number tag?”
”R-right here!” She thrust it out, the tag damp and crumpled. I let it slide, confirming it before pulling her requested item from my Inventory.
”Here’s your iron sword,” I said, handing it over. “Forged with a narwhal horn blade and an iron core for extra durability. Please inspect it.”
She took it hesitantly, examining the blade with care before nodding, satisfied. Tucking it into her Inventory, she turned to me, her smile bright but shy.
”Thank you, Tatara-kun. I’ll treasure it.”
Her smile stirred a faint sense of déjà vu, but I couldn’t place it. Maybe it was her lineage—born of a godslayer and a witch, yet she seemed oddly… normal.
Her ears hinted at Nightkin blood, but who could match the strength of her parents to win her hand? Questions swirled, but with classes looming, I headed back.
”Thank you for your patronage,” I said, bowing slightly. “We look forward to your next visit.”
”Oh… yeah, see you,” she replied, her voice tinged with something like loneliness. That expression—it felt familiar, but whose?
The joint classes passed without incident, and I moved on to the workshop for specialized training. Two figures burst in—Est, with Shamir trailing behind, trying to calm her.
”Senpai!” Est roared, brandishing a pocket katana. “What is this knife?!”
”Easy, Est!” Shamir pleaded, flustered.
The blade in Est’s hand was imbued with the concept of Yakugiri—curse-breaking.
”It’s a disciple’s token,” I said calmly. “A protective charm.”
”It makes no sense!” she bellowed, clearly having Appraised it and glimpsed its power, though not its full nature.
”Simply put, it cuts through magical or cursed interference just by carrying it,” I explained. “It’s also proof you’re my disciple. If you ever quit, sell it—if you can.”
”Sell it?” she scoffed. “This is like a national treasure!”
She wasn’t wrong; its value was incalculable.
Meanwhile, Shamir, who’d tried Appraising it too, had fainted, overwhelmed by the mithril-forged conceptual weapon. Typical.
”You made this, didn’t you?” Est asked, her eyes narrowing.
”Yeah,” I said. “Five identical ones. I gave two to you and Shamir.”
She fell silent, her sharp mind piecing it together. “…This is because of that, isn’t it?”
”Bingo,” I said.
Her face twisted with frustration.
”I’m pathetic,” she muttered. “Saved by you, taught by you, and now still protected by you.”
”I get it,” I said, my voice softening. “As a guy, it stings when you can’t protect yourself.””
I couldn’t fully grasp Est’s frustration.
To protect Ethelena, I’d swallowed my pride and sought help from the City Mayor and Calmys-san, choosing efficiency over ego. That choice made it hard to relate to Est’s wounded pride.
”What can I give back, Senpai?” Est asked, his voice thick with tears. “With all I owe you, what can I possibly…”
I didn’t hesitate.
My wish for them was simple, rooted in something deeper than debts or favors. “Pass my techniques on,” I said.
”To the next generation, and the one after that. If you feel indebted, keep my craft alive. That’s all I ask of you both.”
In this generation, only Est, Shamir, and I could wield Concept Appraisal and Pseudo-Magic Metal Creation.
The City Mayor had forged Demonsteel her own way, but she admitted it fell short of my work. If these two, trained by me, could carry that legacy forward… that was my hope.
Est’s eyes hardened with resolve.
”I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll study, craft, and make sure your techniques live on.”
”I’m counting on you,” I said, glancing at Shamir. “You too, Shamir.”
”Huh?” Shamir blinked, rubbing the back of her head as she sat up, clearly having faked her faint. “Noticing I was awake and waiting to call me out—that’s cold, Senpai.”
I smirked. “Shamir, you—”
”Est,” Shamir cut in, her voice sharp with rare anger, “do you think you’re the only disciple here?”
Est flinched, caught off guard by her intensity. Mess with a friend like Shamir, and you’re in for trouble.
”I’m learning too,” Shamir said, her gaze steady. “Maybe I’m slower than a turtle, but I’m moving forward. Writing papers like you might not be my thing, but I’m quick to grasp things through practice.”
Her words carried a quiet conviction. “If it’s too much alone, we’ll do it together.
I’ll teach you instinct, you teach me theory. Senpai’s abilities might be beyond us individually, but together, we’ll figure it out.”
I raised an eyebrow. Why was I being treated like some raid boss?
They were already picking apart my theories like it was nothing. But I kept quiet—ruining the moment would’ve been pointless.
Est nodded slowly. “Yeah… together, we’ll make it work.”
”Exactly,” Shamir said, grinning. “We’re unstoppable as a team!”
They clasped hands firmly, their bond sealed. If they were satisfied, who was I to nitpick?
”So,” I said, breaking the silence, “all settled, Sun and Star?”
Both jumped, startled, as if they’d forgotten I was there. Yeah, I figured.
”Uh, Senpai…” Est mumbled, embarrassed.
”What’s Sun and Star?” Shamir asked, tilting her head.
I smiled. The name came from a sub-event centered on them in the original game—Shamir as the radiant Sun, Est as the guiding Star.
Their dynamic fit: Shamir’s vibrant energy, Est’s quiet focus.
The name was a nod to that, though the event itself was one I loathed, save for the name. “If you’re going to work as a duo, you need a name, right?”
”Sure, but—” Shamir started.
”Why that name?” Est finished.
”Old words,” I explained. “Shamir means Sun, Est means Star. The sun lights the way for many, the star guides travelers in the dark. That’s who I hope you’ll be.”
They blushed, sheepish but pleased. I hoped they’d live up to it, guiding others with the craft I’d entrusted to them.
After class, I met up with Ethelena and the idiot, heading home as he rambled about swordsmanship lessons.
On the way, I mentioned stopping by the guard post to deliver a Sticky Launcher I’d crafted for the vigilante corps’ squad leader. He agreed without hesitation.
”Man, Tatara,” the idiot said, shaking his head, “your inventions are wild. Weapons, household stuff—you do it all.”
”Do I?” I said, glancing at Ethelena, who just shrugged.
He sighed. “Before I bought swords from you, I checked other shops.
Most stick to one thing—weapons, magic devices, or household goods. Specializing’s the norm if you want to make it big.”
That sounded off.
Our Crafting skill was versatile, and new perspectives often sparked breakthroughs. Narrowing your focus seemed like a recipe for stagnation.
”From what I’ve seen,” the idiot continued, “only the City Mayor comes close to your range, and even she’s not at your level.”
”Maybe the city’s crafters are limiting themselves,” I said, frowning. “Focusing too much makes them inflexible.”
Mid-conversation, a chill ran through me.
I stopped, my eyes drawn to the sky. The idiot froze too, sensing it, while Ethelena crouched, hugging herself tightly.
The clouds above glowed with unnatural golden light, and a single beam pierced through, striking the Whirlwind district.
A deafening roar followed, heat and shockwaves ripping through the air. The commercial district’s plaza became chaos—shattered stalls, burning debris, people groaning on the ground.
The Whirlwind‘s barrier, powered by dragon veins and built to block physical threats, had been breached.
Something had forced its way through, and that meant trouble—big trouble. A memory from the original game surfaced: a main character’s introduction event, tied to a scatterbrained mother from a rival nation, searching for her daughter but distracted by the protagonist.
I scanned for Ethelena and the idiot, but they were gone, possibly buried under rubble.
Pain shot through my body as I forced myself up, searching frantically. Then it descended.
Honey-gold hair gleamed in the light, framing alabaster skin and a serene, closed-eyed face. She wore flowing white robes beneath black-and-gold armor, four wings unfurling from her back.
”Why the hell are you here now?” I muttered.
Sieve, the Angel race warrior and the game’s top troublemaker, stood before me.
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Kalmia – a female student and granddaughter of the legendary god-slaying protagonist from the first game, who visits Tatara’s shop with a timid yet fascinated demeanor, occasionally sniffing his crafted gear with intense curiosity.
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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