“You have done well to make it this far,” the dragon woman in the doorway said. She held her right hand up to her face, the palm of said hand facing her face. Her red eyes peered out from between the outstretched fingers of her brown-gloved right hand.

“Alas”—the tan-skinned dragon woman stepped forward into Gold Mountain’s treasure room—“it is all for naught.” She was tall with a curvy physique, and her hair was short and pink. Her horns were white, her wings black. “Now you face none other than the one who stands at the pinnacle of the heavens herself.” She lowered her right hand, a huge grin on her face.

The dragon woman wore a brown trench-coat. A pink cropped tank-top and pink mini-skirt showed from beneath said trench-coat. A pair of brown utility boots clad her feet, and matching gloves clad her hands. A ruby pendant showed against her sizable bust, held in place by a gold chain about her neck.

“Look at me”—the dragon woman struck a dramatic pose, spreading her black wings—“and despair.” She stretched her draconic wings to her sides a little more, seemingly flaunting her wingspan. Her right hand was back at her face, said face angled downward. Then she eeped as another woman, an elf, pushed her aside from behind.

“Hey, guys,” the elf, Ashkov, said as she stepped into the treasure room. “I see you’ve found the treasure room.” Her weight shifted, and her twin-tails bobbed. A pair of pink ribbons showed atop her head, holding her long blonde hair in said twintails.

“Not cool,” the dragon woman said, glancing at the porcelain-skinned Ashkov. “I was getting my pose on. How are they supposed to know I’m powerful if I can’t get my pose on?”

Ashkov facepalmed, her twin-tails bouncing again. “Well”—she lowered her hand and glanced at the dragon woman—“it isn’t like you had to pose right in front of the doorway, did you?” The tall curvaceous elf wore a green long-sleeved shirt with a low-cut neckline that flaunted her cleavage. Green leggings accentuated her lower curves. Brown shoes clad her feet. “Anyway”—she gestured at the dragon woman—“this is Valerie, the master of Gold Mountain.”

“Actually”—Valerie struck another dramatic pose—“it is Valerie the One Who Stands at the Pinnacle of the Heavens.” She held the pose, letting said pose do its thing.

Ashkov blinked before finally saying, “Whatever.” The elf then glanced over Slimantha and the rest of the slime summoner’s group. Her amber eyes settled upon Mitsy the Mimic. She then raised her right hand, pointing at said mimic. She glanced at Valerie. “There’s your missing mimic.”

Valerie stopped posing. Her red eyes turned to Mitsy. “There is my missing mimic,” the dragon woman said. Her voice was met with a faint eep, and Mitsy the Mimic retreated into her flat-topped wooden chest. Valerie blinked and then made a right-handed fist in front of herself. “More treasure for the one who stands at the pinnacle of the heavens.”

Ashkov facepalmed again. She glanced up from her palm—her right palm—to Valerie. “Why must you insist on calling yourself that so much?” the elf said.

“It has been awhile,” Latril said, stepping forward. The swird woman’s golden sword eyes were on Valerie, and a cocky smirk showed upon said swird woman’s face. She came to a stop. The black shoes cladding her feet rested against the golden floor. Both the mini-skirt and short-sleeved crop-top she wore matched her shoes in coloration. “I’d say”—she summoned a silver sword into her right hand—“it’s time for a grudge match.” Her lips twisted back into that same cocky smirk.

“To challenge the one who stands at the pinnacle of the heavens,” Valerie said, striking another pose. Her black draconic wings spread to her sides menacingly. Then she blinked, dropping the pose. “Wait.” She glanced over Latril. “What do you mean grudge match? Do I know you?” The treasure room fell silent.

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Slimantha’s brown eyes flitted between Valerie and Latril. The slime summoner reached into the left pocket of her brown pants and pulled out her emergency cheese sandwich. She brought the sandwich, which had already been partially eaten, up to her lips and took another bite. She chewed. Then she stepped up to Mitsy’s chest and took a seat on said chest. An expletive from a certain swird woman drew her attention back to Latril. Then her eyes shifted to Valerie.

“S-Such crass language,” Valerie said, a shocked expression on her face. The tan-skinned dragon woman pulled back. “To think someone would talk to the one who stands at the pinnacle of the heavens like that.” Her wings displayed a slight tremble.

“Well,” Rose said, “Latril seems mad.” The plant woman stood at Slimantha’s right, her pink eyes on Latril. Said pink eyes then turned to the slime summoner. “Think she has this?”

Slimantha swallowed a bite of cheese sandwich. She glanced at Rose and then shrugged. “I’m sure it will be fine,” she said. “Latril’s a big girl.” She then held her partially eaten cheese sandwich out to Rose. “Bite of cheese sandwich?”

“I’m good,” Rose said. The plant woman smiled at the slime summoner.

“Latril is pretty strong,” Mimi said. The golden woman stood at the left of Mitsy’s chest—at the left of the chest Slimantha sat upon. “However, Valerie is pretty strong too.”

Slimantha giggled. She glanced at Mimi. “It will be fine,” the slime summoner re-affirmed. She then held her partially eaten cheese sandwich out to Mimi. “Bite of cheese sandwich?”

“No thanks,” Mimi said, turning the offered bite of cheese sandwich down. She smiled at Slimantha.

“Well”—Slimantha brought her cheese sandwich to her bosom—“I guess there isn’t much left anyway.” She smiled and then took another bite of her cheese sandwich. She chewed happily.

“Should I be doing something?” Samuel said. He stood a bit off to Mimi’s left. The eyes of a certain slime summoner, Slimantha, went to him. “I am a hero, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I be fighting?”

“Relax,” Black said to Samuel. The cat woman stood beside the hero, her black feline tail swishing gently. A black witch hat sat atop her head. “Latril’s got this. You can be our secret weapon.” She leaned a little closer to Samuel, a mischievous look in her brown eyes. Her tail swished again.

“How am I our secret weapon when we have”—Samuel gestured to the slime summoner sitting on Mitsy’s chest—“her?”

Black smiled, her eyes on Samuel’s face. “Who said the secret weapon needs to be the strongest?” Her tail swished behind her. “You can be our not-so-useful secret weapon.”

“You aren’t really helping,” Samuel deadpanned. His quip was met with snickers from the cat woman.

Slimantha glanced away from Black and Samuel. The slime summoner stuffed the rest of her emergency cheese sandwich into her mouth. She chewed. Her brown eyes then went to Latril and Valerie.

“We fought at those ruins!” Latril blurted out. The swird woman’s angry eyes were on Valerie. “Don’t you remember!”

“Ruins?” Valerie blinked and then sidestepped a sword slash from Latril. “What ruins?”

“I was with a bunch of crows.” Latril threw out another slash. This time, the sword slash came to a stop in Valerie’s right hand. The swird woman glared at the dragon woman holding her weapon by its blade. “Do you not remember?”

“Crows?” Valerie stared into Latril’s golden sword eyes. “Oh, right. Now I remember. You’re that crow woman I fought at those ruins.” Then the dragon woman blinked. “Wait. Did your eyes look like that before?”

Latril wrested her sword free from Valerie and pulled back. “I see you have noticed,” the swird woman said. A cocky smirk flitted across her face. “Since our previous fight, I have become part sword and am now a swird woman.” Her golden eyes, which each contained the likeness of an upward-turned sword glinted. “What chance does a mere dragon woman have against me now?” Her lips twisted back into that cocky smirk.

“A crow woman”—Valerie blinked—“who has gained the blessing of swords?” A brilliant flame burst into life in her red eyes. “What a fitting opponent for the one who stands at the pinnacle of the heavens!” The dragon woman struck a pose, her right hand obscuring her face.

Now Latril blinked. She lowered her sword. “What the”—an expletive slipped out from between her lips.

Slimantha, still sitting upon Mitsy’s chest, slumped her shoulders. She sighed. She was all out of cheese sandwich.