I have learned something deeply important.
Something that, in hindsight, perhaps deserved slightly more than the approximately two seconds of forethought I dedicated to it.
I should not have chopped the Crystal Tyrant's mana core in half.
That was, apparently, an exceptionally poor financial decision.
According to Avelyn—who has somehow been unanimously appointed to the prestigious position of Tutorial Participant Exposition Department—a mutated Tier Two roaming boss mana core would likely have sold for at least five silver.
Potentially more, depending on its actual mana content.
Instead, I converted it into two considerably less valuable decorative paperweights.
Tragic.
It is, apparently, possible to accidentally overkill one's own wallet.
We make our way back toward the site of the Monarch's demise in order to recover its own mana core, a task that naturally falls to Marek. Of everyone present, he is the only person besides myself capable of efficiently persuading several tons of enchanted crystal to reveal what is hidden inside.
I, meanwhile, remain in the considerably safer position behind Avelyn.
My tail is still spectacularly poofed.
Several vines continue their valiant campaign to smooth the offended fur back into something vaguely respectable.
The fur, demonstrating remarkable solidarity with the local moth population, refuses to cooperate.
A tactical defeat.
I choose to pretend nothing is wrong.
Instead, I inspect the battlefield.
Then I nod solemnly.
Eight out of ten.
Their portion of the crystal forest has also undergone a respectable degree of involuntary urban renewal. It is admittedly nowhere near my own contribution—in terms of total devastation, I estimate they remain approximately an order of magnitude behind—but the effort is nevertheless commendable.
The aftermath tells a surprisingly coherent story.
Great sheets of crystal have melted into warped, glasslike formations wherever Zeke's Pyroclasm swept through the battlefield. Elsewhere, thick layers of frost cling stubbornly to the trees, several unfortunate Chime Serpents, and more than a few crystalline vassals of horror that Rin apparently decided would look better as decorative ice sculptures.
A reasonable artistic decision.
My gaze eventually settles upon the Monarch itself.
Judging by the condition of the corpse, Sylrae almost certainly landed one of her... rather concerning gravity shots.
Alternatively, perhaps Marek has been quietly concealing an attack capable of removing substantial percentages of very large moths from existence.
Either way, the result is objectively excellent.
Avelyn turns her head toward me.
The rest of her body remains facing forward.
Naturally.
Rotating becomes considerably more difficult when another Foxkin has quietly attached herself to one of your arms approximately ten minutes earlier.
"...Are you okay?"
She glances down at me.
…Height differences. Annoying.
"You've been hiding behind me this whole time."
I nod with complete seriousness.
"I require protection."
She blinks.
"...From the moths?"
"Yes."
"Lyn..."
"They are deeply concerning creatures."
"...They're dead."
"One of them could be pretending."
Avelyn stares at me for several long seconds.
I return the look with perfect composure.
Her gaze slides from my eyes.
"...To ambush us?"
"Naturally."
Silence.
Then her shoulders begin shaking. A quiet giggle escapes her before she finally gives up entirely, laughing softly as she shakes her head.
"I don't think they're going to do that."
"They would if they were sufficiently committed."
"I don't think dead things can be committed."
"I have fought many undead."
"...Fair point."
Intellectual superiority acquired.
Apparently deciding that further discussion would accomplish very little, Avelyn simply smiles to herself. A moment later, her tail curls gently around my waist in a way that feels almost... protective.
…
I have become suspicious.
This feels remarkably similar to being taken advantage of.
I consider the matter carefully.
...Acceptable.
The tail is exceptionally fluffy.
I strongly suspect the gesture carries some deeper Beastkin meaning. Sylrae keeps glancing in our direction between effortlessly dodging the steadily increasing barrage of crystal fragments Rin continues launching at her, despite already issuing approximately four entirely reasonable threats involving gravity, large rocks, and what I assume would become a memorable obituary.
Rin, demonstrating a level of self-preservation that could generously be described as theoretical, remains undeterred.
I quietly decide not to become involved.
My own day has already contained enough excitement.
I am still recovering from the Crystal Tyrant, my stamina remains somewhat questionable, and my thoughts continue exhibiting the deeply irritating tendency to wander back toward a particular conversation I have been making a determined effort not to think about.
A warm tail wrapped comfortably around my waist is, under the circumstances…
A remarkably acceptable state of affairs.
I am honestly far too exhausted to care about the fact that she is touching me, something I would normally object to. Both mentally and physically.
We settle into a comfortable silence after that, simply watching the rest of the party go about their business. Rin has apparently decided that repeatedly provoking Sylrae is an excellent long-term survival strategy.
He flicks another crystal fragment toward her.
Without even looking, Sylrae catches another rock from the ground with a pulse of gravity and casually throws one back.
Rin ducks beneath it.
The rock continues another thirty meters before punching cleanly through a crystal branch.
… Escalation appears inevitable.
Also, it seems as though Sylrae has figured out how to use her gravity in a similar manner to my own. Very elegant. I approve.
Meanwhile, Marek continues methodically dismantling what remains of the Monarch. Every shield crash sends another section of crystal breaking away until the enormous corpse gradually shrinks around the hidden mana core somewhere near its center.
Zeke, for reasons known only to himself, has elected to supervise.
Or perhaps simply provide moral support.
Either way, the conversation drifting toward us proves unexpectedly informative.
"...Best venison stew I've ever had."
"Nah, you're thinking of the place near the east gate."
"I'm telling you, that one overcooked it."
"The one with the mushroom gravy?"
"Exactly."
Interesting.
I file the information away immediately.
Apparently Bramblegate contains at least one establishment capable of preparing deer properly.
I shall have to investigate. Strictly for academic theft purposes.
Naturally.
While I possess a solid understanding of culinary fundamentals and consider myself exceptionally competent in the kitchen, my practical experience with... more adventurous ingredients remains embarrassingly limited.
Wild venison. Boar. Monsters. Creatures that, at one point, actively attempted to murder the chef.
Western cuisine had been surprisingly conservative in that regard.
The serpent from earlier had demonstrated the problem rather effectively.
Eating it had proven considerably easier than expected thanks to my sharpened canines, along with what I can only assume is some deeply suspicious Foxkin instinct insisting that raw meat and fresh blood are perfectly acceptable dietary decisions.
I find this instinct questionable.
Very questionable.
Unfortunately…
It also appears to be correct.
The experience itself, however, remained profoundly unpleasant.
Therefore, I have reached a logical conclusion.
I shall learn to properly cook monsters. The constant dopamine infusion provided by steadily increasing stats remains one of the greatest inventions reality has ever produced.
That does not, however, justify cooking decisions that qualify as crimes against civilization.
I have standards.
Eventually, Marek finishes reducing the Monarch to what I can only describe as an exceptionally expensive looking gravel pile and extracts the mana core from its center. The crystal sphere is roughly the size of a softball, a dramatic improvement over the golf ball-sized cores carried by the Stone Crawlers.
Acceptable.
He makes his way toward us, Zeke following a few steps behind while continuing to lament the apparently widespread societal issue of improperly prepared venison.
Marek's gaze drifts between Avelyn and myself before a warm smile slowly appears.
"You two are getting along nicely."
Avelyn's tail immediately retreats from around my waist.
She blinks and looks down.
Then, rather impressively, manages to blush despite having done absolutely nothing objectionable.
…That gesture almost certainly possesses some deeper Beastkin significance.
Further research will be required.
Marek's attention shifts elsewhere.
Specifically, toward the rapidly escalating geological conflict occurring some distance away. At some point, Sylrae and Rin have apparently abandoned throwing individual rocks in favor of what can only be described as sustained crystal artillery.
Chunks of shattered crystal streak back and forth through the air at deeply irresponsible velocities, occasionally punching neat holes through nearby trees whenever someone narrowly dodges.
Marek sighs.
"Alright, you two. Let's get moving. We're on a timer."
Neither combatant acknowledges his existence.
Another pair of crystal fragments crosses between them with enough speed to produce audible cracks in the air.
Zeke chuckles, sounding more resigned than amused.
"You really thought that'd work?"
"...No."
"Didn't think so."
Another rock whistles overhead.
"Guess we can only hope it ends sooner than last time."
He and Marek exchange the weary look of two people who have apparently lived through this exact situation often enough to develop coping mechanisms.
This appears to be a recurring phenomenon.
Mildly concerning.
I observe the duel more carefully.
Sylrae certainly looks annoyed.
Genuinely annoyed, even.
And yet…
There is something inconsistent about the expression.
She keeps smiling, if only slightly. Only for fractions of a second before remembering she is supposed to be irritated.
Meanwhile, Rin has abandoned all attempts at subtlety. His grin has become so thoroughly smug that I suspect it could be classified as a public nuisance.
I blink.
…
Oh.
I step fully out from behind Avelyn, who has continued performing her extremely important duty of shielding me from any hypothetical surviving moths with commendable dedication.
"Are those two... dating?"
Sylrae freezes.
Completely.
The crystal she had been preparing to throw slips from her fingers.
A projectile from Rin whistles past close enough to remove several feathers from one wing before she hastily throws herself sideways and resumes the battle.
…
Her ears are now suspiciously red.
So, not dating.
Yet.
With remarkably heavy emphasis on the yet.
Avelyn lets out a quiet giggle.
Marek and Zeke both chuckle as well, though Marek lowers his voice considerably before answering, apparently deciding that publicly discussing Sylrae's romantic prospects while she is within throwing distance of large rocks is strategically unwise.
"You caught on quick, little miss." His smile widens. "Sylrae likes Rin, but she's too embarrassed to ask him out. Rin, meanwhile..." He glances toward the ongoing crystal artillery duel. "...is a lot more oblivious about that sort of thing than he lets on."
Huh.
That is…
Honestly rather adorable.
Sylrae always carries herself with an almost unfair amount of composure. Discovering that she becomes flustered enough to engage in prolonged geological warfare whenever her crush is involved is unexpectedly endearing.
Rin remains an insufferably smug menace. Apparently just one with questionable romantic awareness.
I nod solemnly.
Nine out of ten.
One point deducted for insufficient commitment to the projectile exchange.
I tilt my head toward Marek.
"So... should we stop them? We are operating under a rather strict time constraint."
Marek shrugs.
"If you can manage it, be my guest." His smile becomes noticeably more amused. "I wish you luck."
I nod once before crouching and picking up a loose shard of crystal.
Three pairs of eyes immediately turn toward me.
I hardly saw why.
I was under the impression this was a fairly ordinary response to discovering a conveniently aerodynamic object.
Astral Energy quietly gathers around my fingertips as I shape a gravitational rail just wide enough for the fragment to pass through. The current remains deliberately subtle, lacking the usual indigo glow and midnight-blue distortions.
No need to answer awkward questions today.
I flick the crystal.
The fragment vanishes with a sharp crack.
A fraction of a heartbeat later, it slices cleanly through the gap between Rin and Sylrae. The passing air alone is enough to ruffle fur, feathers, and hairstyles before the projectile continues onward, punching clean through one crystal tree, embedding itself halfway through another, and politely informing both that structural integrity is more of a suggestion than a rule.
The first tree topples several seconds later.
The crash briefly overpowers the endless chiming of the crystal forest.
Rin and Sylrae freeze and slowly turn toward me in perfect synchronization.
I offer them my most pleasant smile.
Both immediately become considerably more cooperative.
Curious.
I had not realized smiling elegantly possessed such remarkable conflict-resolution capabilities.
"Shall we continue?" I ask politely. "I would rather leave these moth-infested caverns before any of them begin entertaining unpleasant ideas."
Sylrae silently folds her wings closer to her back.
Rin lets out a disappointed sigh, his ears drooping ever so slightly as they both wander back toward the group with the unmistakable posture of children who have just been informed that throwing rocks at one another is, in fact, discouraged.
Sylrae actually chooses to walk back instead of flying, as if she was scolded, and promptly decided that being grounded is a better survival tactic.
Zeke whistles.
"...Well."
Marek blinks once before another warm chuckle escapes him.
"Darn. You stopped them in one shot." He shakes his head. "Ever considered joining our party permanently? We could use someone to keep those two under control."
I consider the proposal for approximately half a second.
Then shrug.
"If you would have me."
The clearing falls silent.
Everyone except Avelyn freezes. Eyes widen. Expressions become strangely unreadable.
...Rude.
I had answered the question.
There was no need to act as though I had suggested replacing the moons with some other, highly concerning spatial objects.
Marek clears his throat.
"...Are you serious about that, little miss?" His tone is careful now. "You really want to join us?"
I nod before gesturing vaguely toward the holy Foxkin standing beside me, who is currently vibrating with a curious mixture of excitement and smug satisfaction, for reasons beyond my current understanding.
"Truthfully, Avelyn invited me during our trip down the shaft earlier." My tail swishes once in quiet amusement. "Without first consulting the rest of you, of course."
Avelyn freezes.
Her ears droop.
"...Sorry."
Marek blinks before letting out a warm chuckle, dismissing the concern with an easy wave.
"I don't mind that part." He looks back toward me. "And you... accepted?"
I tilt my head.
"Is that particularly surprising?"
Marek scratches the back of his head, apparently searching for the right words, but Rin beats him to it.
"We all kinda figured you'd find one of the top parties after the dungeon."
He shrugs.
"I mean, we're good. Don't get me wrong."
"...But you're..." He gestures vaguely toward me. "...You."
That is a remarkably unhelpful explanation.
I tilt my head a little farther, one ear following the motion.
"You are all more than competent."
Silence.
Rin opens his mouth, then closes it again.
His ears slowly rise while the tip of his tail flicks behind him.
Sylrae looks away with suspicious interest in a nearby crystal tree, one wing giving an almost embarrassed rustle.
Marek scratches the back of his head for what I believe is now the fourth time in an hour.
Even Zeke's tail has started wagging lazily.
Avelyn… simply looks unbearably pleased with herself.
Marek smiles, somehow even warmer than before.
A deeply concerning development.
"Hearing that from someone like you..." he says quietly, "...really means a lot."
I blink.
…
Oh.
I believe I understand.
They have somehow categorized me as an unreachable prodigy.
Which is, admittedly, an extremely reasonable conclusion.
I am, after all, the most beautiful and incredible genius in the universe. An extraordinarily humble one, too.
That much hardly requires further discussion.
The fact remains, however, that this party is genuinely competent.
Everyone fulfills a clear role. Their stats, while lower than my own, are nowhere near as inadequate as I initially assumed, and their skills are genuinely powerful.
Sylrae, for instance, has already begun playing with her new gravitational field skill, utilizing it in ways similar to what I worked out just minutes prior.
An excellent habit.
Avelyn possesses an Epic class almost comparable to my own, alongside an Aspect Alignment that has already demonstrated remarkable potential.
Rin's Frostflame is terrifyingly efficient, turning nearly anything it touches catastrophically brittle before promptly introducing it to the concept of no longer existing.
Marek's Bulwark borders on absurd, and his physical strength allows him to capitalize on every opening the rest of the party creates.
Even Zeke, whom I admittedly dismissed rather unfairly during our first meeting, has demonstrated a respectable amount of destructive capability whenever he stops complaining about mana consumption long enough to cast something expensive.
They are weaker than I am, by a respectable margin.
That simply means they possess room for improvement.
As party members, however…
Entirely acceptable.
For now, at least.
I fully expect that I will outpace them eventually.
Marek chuckles.
"The fact that you still look genuinely confused somehow makes me even happier."
He reaches toward my head.
I take exactly one step backward.
His hand pats nothing but empty air.
A narrow victory for dignity.
Marek simply laughs, apparently having expected that outcome all along, before gesturing for everyone to continue.
We immediately fall back into formation. Sylrae lifts into the air once more, though she hovers noticeably lower than before, likely so we do not have to repeatedly shout upward whenever conversation becomes necessary.
"So," she asks, glancing down at me, "does that mean you'll be joining us for Ironvale?"
I nod.
"I will. The dungeon there interests me, and I have also heard that Ironvale borders several human kingdoms." My tail swishes once. "I would like to explore them as well."
Sylrae winces.
Only slightly.
Nevertheless…
That is an exceptionally concerning reaction.
"We're glad to have you for Ironvale," she says after a moment. "But... you might want to reconsider the human kingdoms."
One ear follows my head as I tilt it.
"Why?"
She sighs quietly, her wings giving a faint rustle.
"From what I've heard... humans aren't particularly fond of Beastkin. Not all of them, obviously. The border kingdoms usually don't care much."
Her expression grows noticeably more subdued.
"But for a lot of the human nations..." She hesitates. "...We're simply not welcome."
"I see."
I consider the information for several moments before ultimately shrugging.
That will likely prove inconvenient.
Fortunately…
Inconvenience has never possessed much authority over my decisions.
If I wish to explore the human kingdoms, then I shall explore the human kingdoms.
Should someone decide they object to the shape of my ears or the existence of my tail…
Well.
I narrow my eyes ever so slightly.
They are welcome to attempt explaining why their opinion ought to matter.
I find it rather unlikely that they will succeed.
After all, I have never been particularly interested in seeking permission to exist.