Chapter 378 - Pledge

Claire slowly blinked away her exhaustion as she woke from an extended nap. She hadn’t the faintest clue as to how long she slept, but when she opened her eyes, she found herself buried in a bed of hay surrounded by all sorts of animals. The six turberi in charge of her transport had their shells against her scales, Boris was sitting directly on top of her, and Starrgort was further positioned on top of him. Getting up and unfurling her body seemed like it would be a chore, especially if she wanted to stay silent.

Someone had already done her the favour of putting her in bed. There was no reason to squander the opportunity, especially not while they were still in Paunse.

Her body’s other inhabitant, however, was having none of her nonsense. Taking up residence in Claire’s tail as usual, Rubia, Claire’s clone and effective little sister, raised the limb and undid the knot that was the lazy caldriess. She opened a pair of tail-eyes and scanned the surroundings as she did, flooding her host’s mind with naked catgirls aplenty.

The almost vomit-inducing sight jolted Claire wide awake. She sprung to her feet, startling the horses and oxen that filled the neighbouring stalls as she gritted her teeth and contorted her body a million ways. But no matter what she did, she found it impossible to resist the urge to bang her face against the basking stone that lay in the stall’s far corner.

Rubia giggled at first, but perhaps not exactly enjoying the sensation, she reached out with their shared tail and lightly tugged on the lyrkress’ neck.

The homunculus only got her sister’s attention after the rock joined them in coexistence. Having been impaled by Claire’s frozen horn, it rose with her when she lifted her head and looked out the barn door.

Drawn by the noise, a yawning catgirl with a particularly large chest made her way towards the stable with a sigh upon her lips. She muttered under her breath as she walked, complaining aloud about having long foreseen the trouble. Quickly deciding to have nothing to do with her, Claire slithered out the stable’s back door and took to the sky with rock and Rubia in tow.

The stable hand’s confusion rang through the night beneath them, but Claire paid her no mind. She flew higher and higher, high enough that the catgirls became as small as specks of dust.

Paunsean cities were completely unlike their Cadrian and Vel’khanese equivalents. Though it was storming outside, with dark clouds in the air and heavy rains pouring down upon the settlement, there were hardly any lights to be found. Some of the larger houses had the odd flickering candle, but the streets themselves were pitch black; entire districts were utterly devoid of artificial illumination—not that it was necessary in the first place.

The sky kept the city well-lit.

There was at least one flash every ten seconds. Half of them shot towards the ground, striking the weathervanes built into the roof of each building. The other half were likely meant to do the same, but they wound up striking Claire instead. Though working full force, Tzaarkus’ curse amounted to nothing beyond a faint sense of discomfort.

It didn’t bother her at first, but Claire soon grew sick of the continued assault and scattered the clouds with her vectors. The sky parted to reveal a beautiful late night. The stars were twinkling, the moon was halfway across the sky, and the city was glistening beneath its pale light.

On that particular night, the moonbeams lacked their usual vigour. It was the fault of the goddess’ attire. She wore her usual hat alongside a translucent veil that covered her lower half. A thin crescent was all that remained uncovered, right at eye level, but even that was filtered through the wide-rimmed monocle she wore upon her face. On any other night, her ring might have made up the difference, but she had replaced the usual rocks and dust with an orbiting tome whose contents she carefully looked over.

Rubia’s eyes sparkled when she noticed the goddess. Extending her tail, she got as close as she could and stared straight at the lunar deity as she flipped through a celestial grimoire. Claire felt the same urge—it wasn’t every day that one could catch Griselda in the midst of reading—but she closed her eyes and allowed the homunculus to guide her vision.

“Is life in the castle hard?” Claire didn’t speak until the fake’s excitement abated.

Her replacement answered in her mind, but Claire prodded her until she finally took control of their mouth. She opened it a few times before she finally managed a sound.

“I like it. I like lessons.”

“That makes one of us,” said Claire. Only then did she remove the rock from her forehead. She lobbed it into the air with a vector and ripped it apart with a few thousand more. “But if you ever want to run away, just tell me.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Smiling, Claire closed her eyes, spread her limbs wide, and floated through the sky.

No more words were exchanged between them. They communed in silence, sharing their recent experiences as they fluttered around. It was morning before they knew it, and while the sun rose slightly earlier in Paunse than Cadria, the fake vacated her sister's body the moment she saw first light.

Claire was left alone in the sky, watching the world from her celestial throne. For a little, she considered remaining where she was, but in the end, despite her distaste, she set her eyes on the city and slowly descended upon it. There wasn't really another choice. If they were going to spend another week in Paunse, then she would have to get used to it eventually. It wasn’t as if she could sleep through the trip’s whole segment, especially not when the nation came with its fair share of high-level dungeons.

Still, she was unwilling to face the day ahead. Claire opened a portal leading back to the stable and entered with her eyes closed. She pushed Starrgort out of the way and curled back into a ball, but remained wide awake even after a few minutes in bed. It was the locals’ fault. She could hear the city’s residents. They were mewling and meowing, hissing and howling as they rose from their beds. The cat sounds made by both catgirls and cat siths were identical. There was nothing to differentiate them. And yet, somehow she knew that they were not the same. It irked her to no end, keeping her wide awake even though she no longer felt the way that Alfred wanted.

Annoyed or not, she was able to engage her napping skill and put the morning behind her. It was a largely dreamless sequence. She blinked once to find herself on the wagon with Sylvia on her head, twice to see the party camping atop a small mountain, and thrice to be taken to a holy realm.

It was a familiar face that greeted her—an obnoxious-looking youth with eight arms, light brown skin, and a head of curly hair poking out from beneath a messy turban. Tzaarkus, the god of thunder, lightning, and divine inspiration, was sitting in the void of space with his back pressed against a planet. The giant rock was not exactly enjoying the experience; its surface crumbled under his weight, giving way to his body as he continued to lean against it.

The accompanying dust only emphasized his jewelry; the bright red gems and the shining silver chains all over his body glimmered beautifully beneath the light of the distant stars. His silken robes were not highlighted by the dust, but neither were they dirtied. They stayed as clean and bougie as ever, their snobbiness second only to his own.

His chestnut-brown eyes met her with an annoyed gaze, but he refrained from speaking immediately. Only after a few moments of staring did the god finally open his mouth.

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“Abscond my domain.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “You dragged me here.”

“Not here, Pest. Paunse. Leave Paunse without a moment’s delay. Don’t even think about laying your dirty claws on my people. I’ve seen how you look at them. I know your filthy thoughts.”

“They’re Alfred’s peopl—”

“Finish that sentence, and I will strike you down right here and now.” The god flexed all eight of his arms as he practically snarled his words. “They are my people. That accursed pervert might have created them, but I’m the bulwark that shielded them from Flitzegarde’s wrath. I have provided them with shelter and sustenance since she purged Primrose’s blessings from their lands. I’m the only reason they still exist and thrive to this day. They’re my people.”

Claire gave him a brief, blank stare before continuing to speak. “Either way, I’d leave if I could.”

“You can. It’s as easy as opening one of your paltry portals. Use your mind, mortal. It is not a difficult problem to solve.”

“I can’t,” said Claire. “I have a quest, from Flitzegarde.”

“And?”

“She’ll reward me if I make it to Cadria. Unless I teleport ahead.”

Tzaarkus brought one of his many hands to his chin. “And what is this reward? I’ll provide twice the value should you remove yourself from my domain posthaste.”

“A greater blessing. And she mentioned she would remove the restriction on my titular class.”

The god creased his brow. He watched her for a few moments, staring, picking at her ever-cold expression. “You lie. Flitzegarde would never provide a reward so disproportionate to the effort involved.”

She had to fight back a grin. Even with the system at his fingertips, even with his time dilated, even with all his experience, he couldn’t tell from her expression alone; the god before her was not quite as bright as his lightning might have implied.

“It isn’t disproportionate. You’d understand if you reviewed the logs.”

He cocked a brow. Again, nearly bringing a smile to her lips.

“The path is a trial,” she continued. “Three of us have died already. And we’re only now approaching the most challenging segment.” She magically grabbed the god by the collar and lifted him from his seat with a flick of the wrist. “She told me that even I was likely to fall.” Divinity flooded from her circuits, all of it an unwavering pure gold. In spirit form, it wasn’t as difficult to hold as it was in her body.

She maintained the facade for a solid ten seconds before releasing her grip and dispelling her aura. It had done its job. The god of thunder had his brow furrowed and his nose scrunched up. He was looking at her more carefully, examining her in detail with boxes popping up all around him.

“You’re the one who displaced the planet.”

By then, it was clear. He hadn’t bothered investigating. He knew nothing about her. And frankly, as a god, he was incompetent. Chances were, he had only yanked her up to his realm because he happened to notice her in Paunse. If she had to guess, it was most likely her effect on the lightning that caught his attention.

“Yes,” she said. “They’re sending troops after me as retaliation. We’ve defeated tens of thousands of men. And they’ll only send more as we draw even closer.”

Tzaarkus breathed a sigh. “I can’t offer you any more than Flitzegarde has already. But I’ll offer you the same for your immediate departure.”

“That’d be a net loss,” said Claire. “Your blessing isn’t worth as much as hers.”

The statement drove the god to grit his teeth. He glared at her, but he took no action, eventually clicking his tongue and leaning back in his seat. They both understood. He wasn’t so bold that he would attempt to smite her without first learning of her backing. And he wasn’t so intelligent that he could immediately discern it. He wasn’t Vella, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was not so far off.

“Fine.” He spoke under his breath, his words an almost inaudible mutter. “But know this, filth. Overstay your welcome, leave your mark on this country, and I will smite you without restraint.”

Claire looked him in the eyes.

“Try it.”

The blatant display of hubris earned another snarl from the god, but he refrained from commenting aloud. He faded away instead, vanishing alongside his domain and leaving the caldriess in darkness. And for a while, that was how she remained. She basked in the void, taking in its essence as the eyes all over her body opened and closed at random.

There were too many to count, three hundred thousand at least, but somehow, she had no trouble keeping track of their positions. She knew where each of them was and exactly what they saw, even though there was nothing around her.

She focused on the strange sensation and seized control of the individual organs. Not all of them were physically attached. Some opened in the space around her, while others were in locations that she couldn’t quite describe. They were certainly present, and they almost seemed to share the positions with some of her other eyes, but they returned an empty void that wasn’t quite the same as the one around her.

Whatever the case, she had no time to dwell. A gentle shaking soon pulled her from her slumber. When she opened one of the eyes on her body, she found Sylvia in her humanoid form. The coach was stopped, and the others had already disembarked. Some of the party’s members were gathered in front of the carriage, idly chatting away, while the others had vanished altogether.

“Claire! Wake up!”

The snake-moose didn’t immediately respond. She waited for the foxgirl to lean forward and shake her again before suddenly lashing out and wrapping her body around her.

“What the heck! I said wake up, not strangle me!”

“I’m not strangling you,” said Claire. “And I’m already awake.”

“Your eyes are literally still closed!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not awake.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Sylvia puffed up her cheeks. “Anyway, it’s time to get up. We’re here.”

“Here? Where’s here.”

“Oh uhmmm, you know. A plac—ow! What the heck!? You can’t just randomly squeeze me like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it hurts!”

“Liar. You barely felt it.” Finally releasing the silly, orange dog, Claire unfurled her body, assumed her humanoid form, and stepped out of the carriage. They were clearly still in Paunse, with the thunder god’s ire serving as only one of the many signs.

Her ears were still assaulted by all the same sounds; there was a thunderstorm overhead, hammering its might upon the city as the local cats went about their business unbothered. The nearby construction was also of the same style as that of the previous city. The only difference was a lack of water and walls—the town they had entered was completely landlocked.

That, in and of itself, was something of a curious occurrence. They had spent the whole journey working their way up the coast. And yet, they were far enough from the ocean that she could no longer hear its cry. The air was, likewise, without the salty smell that marked the sea, even though they weren’t supposed to turn inland until they were halfway through Kryddar.

At some point or other, the party had deviated from the original plan.

“So?” She asked as she stepped off the wagon. “Where are we?” A brief glance at the surroundings had confirmed that the wagon was parked just off the side of the road. The surrounding buildings were small but spaced out, with distinct yards and gardens occupying the space between them. It was clearly some sort of residential district, but that was precisely why it added to her confusion. “Is someone checking in on an acquaintance or something?”

“Not quite,” said Arciel. She stepped out of the building with one of the locals in tow.

Claire’s breath stopped.

The local that emerged had a head of orange-brown hair cut into a familiar bob. Her eyes glowed the same bright green as the pair that still haunted her dreams. She stood at the same height—a tiny bit taller than the resident witch—and carried herself in nearly the same way. Even her tail flicked in the same silly pattern.

If not for the faint wrinkles that had formed on her face, the lack of glasses, and the subtle difference in their bone structure, they would have been identical.

“There is someone I wish for you to meet, Claire,” said the squid.

There was no need for words.

The caldriess had already understood.