The air whipped past Bathilda's ears, a constant, roaring reminder of their altitude. Below, the landscape was a blur of greens and browns, occasionally punctuated by the ominous, smoking craters left by their recent, rather dramatic, monster-rending escapade.
Flo, bless her tiny heart, floated serenely beside her, her white hair a cloud of defiance against the azure sky. Bathilda couldn't help but notice the uncanny resemblance, the shared ruby-red glint in their eyes, the ethereal pallor of their skin. It was like looking at a miniature, slightly more cryptic version of herself. Except, of course, this miniature version was also the former Demon King, not a (Higher Vampire).
"A Demon King," Bathilda muttered, the words still tasting like dirt. "And she just… leaves? Again! Like I'm supposed to know what to do with that information?" She pictured Florence's departing figure, the blonde vanishing into thin air with a smug grin, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and a lingering sense of bewildered annoyance. It was like being handed a puzzle with half the pieces missing and then being told, "Good luck!"
She considered Florence's helpfulness – or rather, the distinct lack thereof. Talking with her was akin to finding yourself stranded in a thorny wilderness, desperately needing toilet paper, and discovering that the only option available was a particularly aggressive patch of nettles.
Not exactly ideal.
Bathilda sighed, the sound lost in the wind. Ranting about Florence's infuriating nature wouldn't get her any closer to understanding the current demonic predicament. She glanced at Flo, whose summer dress, a confection of pastel hues, fluttered playfully in the breeze. The sheer innocence of her appearance was almost comical, considering the power she wielded.
"Alright, little one," Bathilda said, her voice laced with amusement, "how about we take a break? I'm starting to think my stomach is trying to negotiate a peace treaty with my spine."
"Lunch?" Flo asked, her voice a sweet, clear chime.
"Lunch it is!" Bathilda replied, a smile tugging at her lips. "And maybe some… strategizing."
They descended gracefully, landing in a sun-drenched clearing beside a babbling river. The air was filled with the gentle hum of insects and the sweet scent of wildflowers. It was a picture-perfect picnic spot, a stark contrast to the chaos they were headed towards.
"Right," Bathilda said, rubbing her hands together, "let's get this show on the road." With a flick of her wrist, she invoked her (Creation) and (Clone+) skills. The former conjured a vibrant checkered blanket, a wicker basket overflowing with delectable treats, and a full picnic spread that would make even the most discerning gourmet weep. The latter produced a perfect duplicate of Bathilda to set off and scout the area ahead.
Clone+ has leveled up
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Bathilda grinned. She hadn't leveled in a while. The skill finally rewarded effort, she thought. She only used it for the persistent clone dedicated to the layabout Hiro, and even that clone mostly just… existed. She sent the new one off with a comically large sandwich, a silent apology for her lack of picnic privileges.
"Woah, woah, woah!" Bathilda exclaimed, snatching a bottle of wine from Flo's tiny hands. "Not for you, little one." She paused, then added, "Or me, for that matter. I don't even know why I made this," she chuckled, blaming Hiro and his love for her creations.
The last two times she'd participated in her favourite stress-relieving activity, she had passed out after the first sip. Another curse forced on her through magical BS.
Magic BS? The words echoed in her mind, a half-formed thought coalescing into a tangible concept. It was there, a fleeting idea on the precipice of realization.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing out through the clearing, startling Flo, who was mid-bite and nearly choked on a piece of apple. After ensuring she was alright, Bathilda focused, invoking (Creation) once more.
Necklace of Tolerance
- Grants the wearer complete immunity to the negative effects of alcohol consumption. If the necklace is removed while affected, the immunity is lost.
Instead of her usual rings, Bathilda opted for a necklace. She was growing tired of the repetitive nature of ring creation. A masterpiece of white diamonds, intricately woven together, materialized in her hands. A single, vibrant red gem, pulsating with an inner light, sat at its center.
It was a piece of exquisite beauty, the kind of regalia fit for royalty. And Bathilda, titled 'Queen of Monsters', certainly qualified. Still, she resolved to abstain from testing its efficacy until her return. It wouldn't do to set a poor example by passing out in the middle of the forest drunk.
The wine was swiftly banished, replaced by a tall glass of ice-cold orange juice, its condensation beading on the glass. Flo accepted it with a delighted giggle, her eyes sparkling. They settled onto the checkered blanket, the gentle gurgle of the river providing a soothing backdrop to their meal.
The feast commenced, a symphony of flavors and textures: crisp sandwiches filled with savory meats and fresh vegetables, sweet fruits bursting with juice, and delicate pastries melting in their mouths.
Bathilda watched Flo, her heart swelling with an inexplicable warmth. "Mom," she'd called her. It was a simple word, but it resonated with a power that Bathilda couldn't quite explain. She loved it, the way it rolled off Flo's tongue, the innocent affection it conveyed.
As they ate, Bathilda tried to find meaning in the information Florence had given her. A new Demon King, a vague threat, and then… nothing. "So," Bathilda said, her voice thoughtful, "a new Demon King. That's… interesting. Any idea what this they're planning?"
Flo shrugged, her mouth full of sandwich. "The usual. Just… Boom! Demon King! Doom and gloom. All who stare upon me shall perish. And all that," she added for clarity.
"Right," Bathilda sighed. "Boom. Demon King. That's helpful. Thank you, Flo." She still praised the little one regardless.
After lunch, they lingered for a while, basking in the warm sunshine and enjoying the tranquil atmosphere. Bathilda felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a long time. But the looming threat of the new Demon King still hung in the air, a dark cloud on the horizon.
"Alright," she said, rising to her feet, "time to get back on the road. We need to figure out what's going on, and fast."
With a shared nod, they took to the skies once more, heading towards Bathilda's old cave, the place where her second life had begun. It was a place of misery, a place of dread, but hopefully, a place where they could find some answers.