Chapter 4 Action Selection Phase
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
We sat across from each other at the low table, eating in a comfortable, quiet rhythm. Toast, ham-and-eggs, a small salad, corn potage, and milk — simple, but the morning made it feel like something more.
The bread smelled of the bakery down the street; the butter had melted into a glossy sheen. I tore a piece, laid the ham-and-egg on it, and bit down. The yolk burst warm and golden, slicking the toast. She watched me for a second, then mimicked me, dipping her toast into the yolk with an embarrassed half-smile. It was oddly domestic, and for a few breaths the house felt normal.
”So,” I said after a while, “Dungeon today?”
She set her milk cup down, eyes dropping. “I want to find a way to stop the level-up impulse,” she murmured.
I knew what she meant. Last night had broken something between wanting and not wanting; she hated what she’d become in those moments. Saying it out loud made her smaller. I pushed a forkful of salad around my plate, looking for the right words.
”You don’t have the slots to just pick a counter skill,” I said. “And there’s nothing simple that… stops it.”
She chewed in silence, then spoke, quiet and practical. “Maybe I should take *Sex Sorcery* next.”
I almost choked on my toast. “Please don’t.”
If that didn’t work as a control, it would make things worse. A succubus with that kind of amplification was a catastrophe waiting to happen. But I didn’t say any of that out loud; she already knew the risk. What she needed was a fix that actually worked, not a band-aid.
Her starter stats had been pathetic when I found her—beauty and mana stacked on top of threadbare defenses. I’d made her *Lonisera*, a mana-type Arcane Gun, because it didn’t ask her to be strong. The core came from her family: mithril body, High Demonkin Soul Core. It was the only reason she could pull off shots that should have been impossible for someone like her.
”I still want to level,” she said finally. “I can’t just stop.”
”Okay. Be careful,” I said. “Don’t walk into a Monster House. Don’t go solo. Come back to me.”
She stood and left, a small pair of bat wings tucked low behind her. They hardly looked functional—more like marks of lineage than instruments of flight. Maybe she was too young. Maybe something else held her back. I watched her shoulders until the door shut.
After she left, a memory hit me sharp and cold: Baral’s corpse, the way someone had torn him open and displayed him like a warning. I’d reached for the Soul Core then, and it had whispered—an accusation, a plea, a last tether to a life it had known. I’d promised, to that mute plea, that I’d keep their daughter safe.
I set my cup down, fingers tight around the rim. Whatever came next, I owed that promise—and her—more than words at a breakfast table.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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