The teleportation left a faint ringing in my ears as we reappeared on an open-air deck. The wind hit us instantly, cool and sharp with the thinness of high altitudes. I scanned the surroundings—some kind of airship, with metal and wood seamlessly melded into its structure. A steady hum reverberated through the floor.

Beside me, Black stumbled forward, hands over his mouth, his usually impassive face twisted into a ridiculous expression. He made a few sickly “blegh” noises, which caused Selena to step back quickly, grimacing.

“Oh, come on, Black. Altitude sickness already?” Selena laughed, crossing her arms with a smirk.

In response, Black shot her an annoyed look, then quickly bolted toward the nearest door, probably in search of a spot to quietly lose his lunch. Selena shook her head, amused. “He could’ve just vomited over the rails,” she commented dryly.

I shrugged. “Maybe he’s shy—wants to keep it private,” I said, feigning seriousness. I could still see the look on his face and stifled a laugh.

The other hunters around the deck barely glanced our way, their eyes fixed on the view or lost in their own thoughts. They were the strong ones, the survivors who had cleared stage after stage just like us.

I had to admit, though, that the idea of being on an airship like this stirred something in me.

It was… kind of fun…

Admittedly, I have to get used to the thinness of air fast.

As we wandered around the deck, a staff member approached, though she was clearly not one of the mundane staff we’d seen at the resort. This one wore a maid outfit, but it was… rather unconventional. The skirt was short, and her blouse was open just enough that her platinum blonde hair and blue eyes weren’t the only things catching my attention. Her chest seemed barely contained, spilling dangerously over the fabric. I was still trying to decide if this was some kind of act or an actual uniform.

A sharp pinch hit my side, and I glanced over to find Selena narrowing her eyes at me, whispering, “You already have a wife, remember? Try to look a little less enchanted.”

I coughed, trying to focus, though I was still recovering from the jab. “Point taken.”

The maid—no, the hunter—stopped in front of us, holding out a key in each hand, her eyes flickering with a knowing glint. “Welcome aboard,” she said, her voice smooth and level. “I’m Atropos. You and your teammate here are free to use the airship’s facilities as you please.” She handed each of us a key.

Atropos. The name stopped me short. Of course, I knew her. I’d written her, created her as part of the Hunting Dogs—a formidable hunter and a figure of legendary skill. Atropos— a name inspired by one of the Three Fates of Moirai in Greek mythology— the one who cut the threads of life. In my story, she’d become the mentor to the protagonist, guiding him in ways few could. Now, here she was, standing before me in the flesh.

“Thank you… Atropos,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. Her eyes met mine, glimmering with that mysterious smile, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Wanna get shagged?” suddenly sprung up Atropos.

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard correctly.

"Wanna get shagged?" she repeated with a tone completely devoid of emotion.

I froze. What the hell did I just hear? My throat went dry as I glanced over at Selena, who was bright red with fury. Before I could even gather my thoughts, Selena erupted, her voice sharp and full of disbelief.

“What is your problem, lady? I know I’m flirtatious as hell, but you—” she waved a hand toward Atropos, “—you take the cake!”

I resisted face-palming on the spot. I didn’t know where to look. This whole conversation had just taken a nosedive into awkwardness. I cleared my throat and tried to steady myself. "I’m already married," I said, hoping that would end the matter.

Atropos, with that same cold, emotionless expression, shrugged. “I’d be fine being the mistress.”

What. The. Hell.

I barely had time to react before Selena’s elbow jabbed me in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for?" I grumbled, rubbing the sore spot, but she only glared at me with an intensity that made me second-guess everything I thought I knew about this situation.

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“You’ve got some nerve,” Selena hissed at me. “You were staring at her chest too much! It’s like you don’t even know how to behave!”

I blinked. "I—what?!" I started, but Selena was already wagging her finger at me, about to scold me into oblivion.

"Don’t even think about it," she threatened with a smirk. “I’ll tell Leora what you’ve been looking at, and I’ll be sure she hears all about it. You’re dead if she finds out.”

My blood ran cold. My mouth went dry. That was the last thing I needed—Leora getting wind of this.

Atropos, seemingly unaffected by the entire exchange, turned on her heel and said, “Some other time then,” her voice was flat and emotionless. She walked away without a second glance, leaving me standing there, feeling a mix of relief and sheer embarrassment.

I looked at Selena, her teasing grin still plastered across her face. "You better be kidding about telling Leora," I muttered under my breath, but she only laughed in response.

This was going to be a long journey.

Selena leaned over with a smirk, clearly still enjoying herself. "I mean, I’d be fine with you checking me out, and I won’t rat on you…”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Oh, shut up," I shot back. "I’m going to my room to take a shower."

Selena raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Is that an invitation?”

I sighed, tapping her shoulder, feeling the faint warmth of her aura as I borrowed her attribute, ‘Disguise.’ She blinked, and for a moment, I could see her cheeks turn a faint pink. With a thought, I shifted her aura, transforming her into a miniature version of herself. Now, she was about as tall as my knee, her arms crossed, looking ridiculous.

I turned and walked away, feeling her glare sear into my back. Then came the scream.

“GODDAMNIT!” she yelled, her voice shrill and furious.

I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face as her tiny, high-pitched shrieks echoed behind me. If she’d had any doubts about my loyalty to Leora, I hoped they were gone now. Besides, this little trick might keep her out of my hair for a while. I walked off to my room, feeling thoroughly satisfied.

Behind me, I heard the rapid patter of tiny footsteps—Selena’s little legs racing to catch up. I glanced back to see her miniature form, fists clenched, her face red with frustration as she tried to keep up.

I quickened my pace, smirking as her tiny voice echoed through the hall. “Turn me back! Turn me back!” she shouted, her tone that of fury and desperation.

I made it to my designated room just in time. I slipped inside, quickly locking the door and dragging a chair to wedge under the doorknob for good measure. Outside, her muffled voice was still shouting as she stomped around in frustration. Safe at last, I let out a satisfied sigh and headed to the bathroom, still grinning.

The hot shower was refreshing after days on the island. I took my time, letting the water ease the tension from my muscles, finally allowing myself a moment to breathe. After rinsing off, I wrapped a towel around myself, feeling more relaxed than I had in days. Just as I stepped out of the bathroom, my phone buzzed with a new message.

It was from Leora. She’d received the package I'd sent—the Lover tarot card I’d chosen to represent us. Her reply had an image attached that made my breath hitch for a moment. She was standing in an oversized, loose-hanging shirt that draped over her curves, but she was definitely not wearing any shorts, leaving enough to my imagination to send a thrill up my spine. Smiling, I saved the picture, feeling a surge of fondness and longing.

I dried off and checked the closet, pleasantly surprised to find a set of comfortable clothes—just a plain shirt and a pair of jeans, but after the intensity of the island exam, they felt like luxury. Once dressed, I sent a request through the room’s control panel to get my suit cleaned. The material was aura-conductive, with chain-mesh lining for extra protection, so it couldn’t be replaced easily; keeping it in top shape was essential.

Settling into my room, I watched as a few automatons bustled in to pick up my suit for laundry. Though I hadn’t brought much with me from the Capital City HQ—packing for the exams had been rushed, and the trials themselves had left little room to keep track of possessions—I was glad to see the airship was well-equipped. Hopefully, my suit would be ready by the time the next trial came around.

I strolled through the airship, marveling at the amenities offered. It was a far cry from the rugged forest we had just endured. The ship felt like a floating city, complete with a casino, café, billiard room, and more. Passing the casino, I noticed Geoffrey intently playing a slot machine, his usual calm expression now laced with intense concentration. I chuckled, moving on to the billiard room, where Shen was engrossed in a betting game, carefully eyeing his opponents and calculating every move.

Finally, I wandered into the café and spotted Black playing chess with a guy I quickly pegged as a Trickster-type. Despite Tricksters being known for their mental games and unpredictability, Black was dominating the board. I watched for a moment, genuinely impressed as Black set up a brutal checkmate, cornering the Trickster effortlessly. The Trickster huffed, frustrated but fascinated.

I ordered an iced coffee and took a seat nearby, smirking as I teased Black. “Not bad for someone who was practically trembling from the altitude earlier.”

The Trickster looked up in surprise. “You’re afraid of heights?” he asked, a hint of a grin breaking through his disappointment at losing the game.

Black clicked his tongue in annoyance, his expression betraying the barest flicker of irritation. "It’s just a minor inconvenience,” he muttered before turning to me. “Anyway, this is Dummy,” he said, gesturing toward the Trickster.

I raised an eyebrow. "Dummy?"

The Trickster, unfazed, shrugged with a grin. “Yeah, that’s my real name. Blame my parents,” he said, clearly having fun with the reaction his name got. Despite his name, he didn’t look anything like a dummy—his small frame and curly hair gave him a somewhat mischievous, impish look, and his leather jacket and ripped jeans only added to the quirky, rebellious vibe.

I chuckled, sipping my coffee. “Nice to meet you, Dummy,” I said. “And impressive game, Black.”

Black grunted, barely acknowledging the compliment as he reset the board, though I could see a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.