“Do you mean Gate of Babylon?” Azalabulia asked the two who stood in front of her.
“Right. That,” Fenrir answered. “But how do we make that work with cannons? Gate of Cannonlon? Cannons of Babylon? Actually—
“I like it,” Serra spoke up. “Cannons of Babylon.”
“Babylon did not have any cannons,” Azalabulia said, bringing out that teacher demeanor of hers, “but… yes! That would be so cool! I – I mean, such a fearsome attack would be known around the world! And if I am the one to teach you,” she said to Serra, “how to envoke such a powerful ability, I would have the pride of being the one to have enabled such an awe-inspiring attack!”
“You can have pride and lewd tickets if you make it work.”
“Lew-lewd tickets?”
“Yeah. Tickets that you can redeem whenever you want to do lewd things.”
Fenrir poked Serra’s cheek. “Wouldn’t you already be willing to do lewd things whenever anybody asks?”
Serra turned her head and licked Fenrir’s finger before answering, “Then I’ll make them lewd tickets for you.”
“So, you’re going to pimp me out to my own girlfriend?”
“Yeah. You’re my bitch now. Let me pimp slap you.” Serra reached up to try and give Fenrir a playful, backhanded slap across his face, but he stood up on the tips of his toes to stop her from reaching him. This led to her trying even harder to reach, but his face was always too far thanks to him moving it around to dodge her. So, with only one option left available to her, Serra gave up on pimp slapping his face… to pimp slap his rear instead. “Mission accomplished. You’re officially my ho now.”
Fenrir sighed with the slightest hint of red on his cheeks. “I thought you wanted to create special moves with me, not build a pimp empire?”
“Gate of Pimpalonia. Unlimited Ho Works.”
“The king of Uruk would be extremely disappointed to hear you bastardize his powers like that.”
“I’ll make him my ho, too.”
“I – I’m sorry, Serra,” Azalabulia spoke up, “but your power levels… even with an extremely powerful Cannons of Babylon, your power levels are on completely different levels. Nobody can defeat him when he takes a fight seriously. That’s part of what makes him so cool, though! He’s just – he’s so—”
“I didn’t know you were such an anime fangirl, Azawaza,” Fenrir teased.
“I’m not! It’s just that anime series in particular. I always loved the concept behind it, and it took me years to finally get around to watching it because of the confusing watch order, but now it’s the best!”
“All I know about it are memes, a couple of references, and that Olly looks up to the one pink-haired guy from it.”
“We should watch it sometime! I – I mean… if you want to.”
“If you let me grope you while we watch it.”
“Nice,” Serra said. “I’ll watch it too with that condition.”
Azalabulia, with reddened cheeks, pulled down on her hat to hide her face before nodding her head.”
Fenrir and Serra gave each other a high-five. Though, immediately after the high-five, Serra pulled her hand away with a look of disgust.
“Wha-what’s wrong?” Fenrir asked.
“You’re only a ho. How dare you touch me,” Serra answered.
“Wow. I see how it is. You know what?”
“What?”
Fenrir crouched down in front of her, grabbed onto Serra’s legs… and then shoved his head all the way through between her legs. He then slung her over his back, hanging her upside down with her thighs around his head. This also left his tail wagging against her. “How’s this for touching you?”
Of course, Fenrir apparently failed to take into consideration one incredibly important factor.
The girl he was trying to get revenge on… was Serra.
All Serra had to do was reach down and grab his rear with each of her hands. “Thanks for putting me right here.”
Fenrir’s tail shot up as Serra’s hands mercilessly assaulted his defenseless rear. He wasn’t sure what to do, either. He wasn’t going to drop her, getting her off of him in this position would be difficult without her cooperation, and the way that Serra’s skilled hands groped him made it difficult to think of a strategy to counter her.
In the end, Serra proved that Fenrir was, in fact, the ho between the two of them.
Now, Fenrir stood with his backside purposely aimed away from Serra at all times, his tail wrapped around his waist as an extra layer of protection. As for Serra, the smile on her face couldn’t possibly get any more smug than it was.
“Wha-what about special moves?” Azalabulia asked.
“Yeah, Serra, what about special moves?” Fenrir asked.
“My fingers are my special moves. I was demonstrating,” Serra answered. “Azawaza, want me to demonstrate on you next?”
Azalabulia looked unsure of how she was supposed to answer which told Serra everything that she needed to know. Unfortunately, though, Fenrir spoke up. “We’re never going to learn actual moves at this rate. We’ll save your fingers for later.”
“Ri-right! Good idea,” Azalabulia answered.
Serra sighed and slumped her shoulders.
The only true way to defeat Serra was to not play at all.
“So, where do we begin?” Fenrir asked.
“Alright,” Azalabulia said with a nod. “First, imagine what you want to do.”
“Got it.”
“Then, concentrate really hard.”
“Concentrating.
“Now… do it!”
“Do… do what?”
“What you imagined yourself doing.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you follow the instructions? Imagine it, concentrate, and then do?”
“It’s uh… it’s not that easy.”
Fenrir looked at Serra to make sure that he wasn’t the odd one. Fortunately, Serra didn’t reveal any super secret power to create new abilities on the spot without him.
“Is that really how easy it is for you?” Fenrir asked.
“It has always been that easy,” Azalabulia answered. “Is it… really that much more difficult for you?”
“Alright, let’s test that then. Cast a spell where you summon a giant wolf head that flies into the sky and explodes into fireworks.”
Now, it was Azalabulia’s turn to show a rare smugness. “Oh? Are you challenging me, wolf? Do you doubt my powers?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doubting. I love you but I don’t believe you can—”
“Son of Loki! Devourer of Odin! I call upon you to show this mortal fool our true and unlimited power! Embrace Ragnarok and bring the world’s ending to this plane! Fenrir, Dweller of the Fen, bare your fangs and tear the sky to shreds! First Order of the Unchained Hound: Fenrir Fire, rip and tear!” With Azalabulia’s staff pointed up to the sky, the head of a great wolf appeared above her before soaring upward. As soon as it reached the first cloud, it detonated into a fiery blast full of white and black colors that sent shockwaves throughout the air.
Fenrir could only stand there and watch in amazement as Azalabulia pulled off, and went beyond with, exactly what he requested her to do. “Ho-how?”
“I imagined it, concentrated, then did it,” Azalabulia answered with one hand on her hip and another hand holding her hat. It soon became obvious why she was holding onto her hat as an expected shockwave reached them. Serra’s hat went flying off of her, but Azalabulia’s remained in place.
While Serra chased after her hat, Fenrir slumped his shoulders. “You’re way too amazing, Aza. Also, you named the spell after me?”
“Hmm? I named it after the great wolf of Norse mythology, Fenrir.”
“Are… are you forgetting what my name is?”
“It’s Fen? And Ryouta.”
“And what is Fen short for?”
“Fen…rir? Oh.”
“You know, I was kind of flattered that you named the spell after me, but now I know you didn’t even mean to.”
“I – I’m sorry.”
“I’ll forgive you if you can teach me how to at least shoot a small fireball or something.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea how to cast weak spells.”
“You can only cast huge ones?”
“Exactly. You know what they say about explosions: the bigger, the better!”
“That’s what she said,” Serra said now that she was back with her hat.
“Y-yes? That is what I just said.”
Fenrir gave Serra a pat on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. At least I understand. Anyways, Aza, has it always been like this? What about when you first started playing?”
“Hmm… when I first started playing… I think I had to concentrate for at least a minute before doing anything. Maybe you should try concentrating for a full minute?”
Fenrir didn’t look very impressed, but he tried it nonetheless. He imagined what he wanted to do, concentrated on it for no less than sixty whole seconds, and then he—
And then he did nothing.
A loud sigh escaped his mouth as he thought about what he was doing wrong. Was he not concentrating hard enough? Did he not imagine something worthy of becoming reality? Was he supposed to be doing something special for the “do it” part?
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Maybe you’re just—”
“Oh. I did it,” Serra interrupted.
Fenrir’s head snapped around, almost fast enough to cause whiplash, to look at Serra.
“It’s so tiny,” Serra said. “Oh. That’s what she said.”
Fenrir couldn’t help but to snerk at her before looking down at her hands. Surely enough, within her hands… was a very tiny cannon sticking out from a golden portal.
“Fire,” Serra ordered.
The tiny cannon sputtered out a single cannonball that plopped onto her hand.
“Good job, little guy. I’m proud of you.”
The cannon and the portal then disappeared, as did the cannonball.
“Serra… you – how – how did you – but – when – how?” Fenrir asked.
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“I did exactly what Azawaza said,” Serra answered.
Azalabulia spoke up to say, “Its size was small and its output was lacking—”
“That’s what she said.”
“I – I don’t get it. But as I was saying, despite the result, you still figured out what to do! I’m proud of you, Serra,” Azalabulia said in her teacher’s voice. “Now,” she brought out her chuuni voice, “so long as you continue striving to improve upon your newfound ability, you will one day be able to destroy all of existence with it! You will hold the world hostage in fear of your mountain-shattering cannons!”
“Heck yeah.”
“But first… you will have to practice. Frequently. I’m assuming you didn’t intend to produce such a small result, right?”
“Yeah. I imagined a really big one and a ton of them,” Serra answered and then smirked as she realized where she could take this. “I want a lot of really big, hard cannons shooting all around me.”
“Good! That’s what you should keep on imagining. As long as that is what’s you are trying to do when you cast your new spell, you should eventually manage it!”
Fenrir sighed and shook his head. Azalabulia, as lewd as she could be at times, was incredibly innocent at other times. “So, how come she managed to do something but I couldn’t?”
Azalabulia faced Fenrir and held her chin in thought. “Perhaps… perhaps it is because when I first started playing, I did not have any other abilities yet. I wanted to become good at magic, so that was my focus from the start. Serra hasn’t developed much in the way of combat style yet, so she is still essentially a blank slate whereas you have already developed your own style. You already have your fishing rod, your sword, your fists, the ability to transform your arms – maybe you have to try even harder because you already have other useful abilities?”
“That… that sounds like good logic to me. That definitely sounds like something that could be intentionally put into place to stop somebody from becoming amazing at every single thing. Though, if that’s the case, maybe I should have asked Cassiel for some tips since she does swordfighting but also knows magic.”
“But hasn’t following an angel archetype been her thing the entire time? That is something she was always going after. It’s different if you suddenly decide one day to change or learn something new, I’m guessing.”
“Unless you’re already a blank slate,” Fenrir said, looking at Serra.
“Being lazy this entire time has paid off,” Serra said.
“To be fair, you’ve helped out in a ton of ways. Just not when it comes to fighting, usually. Well, even then, you’ve helped out.”
“She’s always helped out with cannons and the like, hasn’t she?” Azalabulia asked.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Then maybe that is why it is still easier for her to do this. She already has expertise with things like siege weaponry, and now she wants an ability that essentially lets her summon it on demand. The end result is still the same, but the method is changing. The important thing is that the theme is still the same.”
“The theme… so, if siege weaponry is the theme, then she can more easily switch from physical cannons to magical cannons.”
“I believe so.”
“Then what’s my theme? Cass is an angel, you’re… explosions and dragons, Serra is a siege specialist… and me?”
“Hmm, what is your theme. I think you’ve been more anti-magic than magic if anything, so that might be making it even more difficult for you to develop a new power. There might be a bit of magic involved in transforming your arms, but that tiny bit of magic is focused on making you physically stronger and countering magic rather than boosting your own magical capabilities.”
“Wait, I’ve only been trying to come up with magic. Could that be it? If I try to develop some other sort of non-magic power, do you think it’ll be easier?”
“It’s worth a try. But, first… I want to know what kind of spell you were trying to cast. What were you imagining?”
Fenrir crossed his left arm over his chest and brought his right hand up to his chin. “I was imagining summoning a swarm of wolves to my sides that ran out and killed my enemies.”
“That… doesn’t sound like you at all. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I know you’re right. So, no more magic – or, at least, no more trying to create offensive magic in the form of giant explosions or wolf packs or anything. Instead, I should try to create a skill that goes with my ‘theme.’ In that case… if I’m like a sort of brawler and anti-magic… alright, I think I have an idea.”
Excited to see what Fenrir had in mind, Azalabulia said, “I believe in you! Imagine it, concentrate, then let it out!”
Fenrir nodded and closed his eyes.
First came the imagination part. He had to imagine exactly how his new ability would work. Then he concentrated. For no less than sixty seconds, he dedicated his entire mind to concentrating on what he wanted to accomplish.
And then…
And then he did it.
“Did it work?” Fenrir asked, opening his eyes.
Serra stood in front of him with wide eyes as she looked up at him. “Woah… you’re so fluffy.”
Fenrir crossed his arms over his chest as Azalabulia wasn’t sure how to respond.
Fenrir’s new ability – the thing that he was trying to hard to create from scratch… made his ears taller and fluffier, and his tail longer and fluffier. Even his hair was longer and thicker now. “Impressive, right?” he asked. “I call it going Super Fluff. You know, instead of Super Saiyan.”
“But… but… how is this going to make you stronger?” Azalabulia asked. “Don’t you want new abilities to help you fight?”
“You know nothing, Azalabulia. Do you understand my new, fearsome appearance?”
“I don’t.”
“Then let me make it clear to you.”
Fenrir turned around, aiming his back at Azalabulia. More importantly, this also put his tail right in front of her.
From side to side, his supremely fluffy tail wagged.
It all became clear.
Like the birth of a new universe inside of Azalabulia’s mind, she suddenly understood the moment that she could witness the wagging fluff in all of its glory. Never before had she seen such an impressively fluffy tail, and now there was one right in front of her.
“It’s – it’s so… fluffy fluffy,” Azalabulia said, reaching her hands out.
“Embrace the fluff, Azawaza. Allow it to surround you,” Fenrir said.
“Is – is it really alright?”
Fenrir nodded.
Unable to resist, Azalabulia reached out and sunk her fingers into the neverending expanse of his fluff. Before she knew it, more and more of her body was pulled into his fluff until her arms were no longer visible. Instead, she had the tail completely hugged against her with her face rubbing directly into it.
Warm, soft fluff consumd Azalabulia. It penetrated her every sense to the point where she could no longer think of anything but fluff.
“Seriously? Is being obsessed with fluff a trend or something?” Saya asked Fenrir. “I swear it’s like everything is fluff this, fluff that. What happened to dragons being awesome? Is fluff being chosen over dragons now or something?”
“Pupaya,” Fenrir thought back to her, “I may have gone Super Fluff, but you’ll be going Super Pupaya.”
“No. No I won’t be.”
“Yes, yes you will be. I want your ears to be tall enough to be half as tall as the rest of your body, and I want you to have a tail that’s twice as big as you are.”
“I… actually, if I have a tail that big, that sounds like I would have a permanent bed that I could lie down on whenever I want… that sounds kind of nice.”
“Right? Embrace the fluff, Pupaya.”
“Onii-wan.”
“Yes?”
“At least try to come up with a serious skill today, alright?”
“I will, I will. Well, I’ll try.”
“Good boy. I know you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“Thanks for looking out for me, Pupaya.”
“You still the worst, onii-wan.”
Once Saya left Fenrir’s thoughts, Fenrir canceled his skill only to find that Serra had joined in on the fluff action. Both she and Azalabulia were left standing, their arms wrapped around nothing but air, as Fenrir’s tail returned to its usual size and slipped away from them.
“Do you understand the power now?” Fenrir asked.
“That – that could potentially serve as a powerful distraction against anybody who loves fluffy things,” Azalabulia answered. “I never would have thought that even I would fall victim to it…”
“I want to sleep in your tail when it’s like that,” Serra said.
“I’ll let you sleep in it once you can summon some big cannons to shoot all around you,” Fenrir offered.
“Deal.” Immediately after saying that, Serra began practicing her new power.
“Now, I really do need to come up with a serious skill. I think I have an idea, but I’m not sure if it will work.”
Once more, Azalabulia looked eager to see what Fenrir’s mind came up with. “Try it! I believe in you!”
And once more, Fenrir repeated the entire process of imagining, concentrating, and finally doing.
And once more again, Fenrir’s ears and tail turned longer and fluffier in addition to his hair getting thicker and reaching down almost to his ankles. So far, it looked exactly the same as before.
But the transformation didn’t stop there.
Like with his usual skill, his arms turned wolflike and his fingers turned into deadly claws. Also, of course, the fur of his arms grew thicker and longer to match the rest of his hair doing so.
“Alright, and done. I know that this is increasing my position on the furry scale, but I don’t think I’m dangerously furry yet. At absolute worst, you could say I’m semi-furry now. Well, semi-semi-furry. Maybe semi-semi-semi-furry. Or semi-semi-semi-semi-se—furry.”
“Sefurry?” Serra asked.
“Verbal typo.”
Serra gave a thumbs-up and went back to summong her cannon over and over.
“This… this doesn’t look much different from before,” Azalabulia said.
“This is basically just an improved version of this,” Fenrir answered, raising his arms. “I know it’s not new, but I figured that I could start off with something simple like improving a power that I already have. Though, maybe I should have asked you first if you know whether or not there’s like, a daily limit on how much you can learn.”
“I don’t think there is, but I’m not sure.”
“How many new spells have you invented in a single day before?”
“Technically… probably over a hundred?”
“O-over… over a hundred?”
“There were all variations of the same thing. I couldn’t decide what shape I wanted the explosion to be in.”
“That does sound like something you would do. Well, that’s good to know. I just hope that there’s not a system that differentiates between variations and brand-new skills completely. Then again… have you ever created any non-magic skills?”
“Not once! I am strictly a caster. I would sooner blow up the entire world and then myself before playing any other role.”
“You’re the kind of person who picks a single main and then never dares to play any other character, aren’t you?”
“And proud of it!”
“Fair enough. Do you think there might be a difference between creating a magical skill and a non-magical skill?”
“I would think that the only difference is less concentrating and more doing.”
“Why’s that?”
“Common sense. With magic – magic is generally something that one has to focus their mind on. It’s a more… mental sort of thing. You have to dedicate your mind to magic! But when it comes to non-magic skills, like ones that you would use in the middle of combat while directly next to your enemy, you don’t have the same time needed to really concentrate as hard as you need to. You’re putting yourself in a do-or-die situation where you need to come to an answer immediately. Physical fighting is more about developing instinct and reaction speed – it’s about improving your muscle memory. If you see a punch coming for your head, you duck and counter. There’s no thinking about it, there’s only doing. Right?
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“But does that really count as a skill?”
“Well… in one meaning, yes. In a video game sense, no. Though, I would think that if you become exceptionally skilled in ducking and countering, then maybe you could develop a skill on your own that activates under that condition? Like… like… a flaming fist and explosive punch that only activates after you duck away from damage!”
“Or like, if I practice roundhouse kicking a ton, I could end up somehow acquiring a special roundhouse kick skill?”
“Maybe! Like a fiery roundhouse kick that explodes on impact! Try it! I want to see an explosive kick!”
“Aza, you become like a kid when it comes to explosions.”
“It’s – it’s not my fault. Explosions are awesome.”
“Here’s what I want to know. If I imagine a move, concentrate on it, and then practice it over and over and over again, do you think I’d be able to like, create new skills thant are a combination of physical attacks and magic?”
“It makes sense that you would be able to do that. So long as you are holding the imagination of the finished result in your memory, you may be able to eventually achieve it through enough practice.”
“Alright, I’ve got it. I know exactly what I want to do. Thanks for talking me through this, Aza.”
“I – I’m not sure that I’ve really helped much.”
“You have. By the way, it’s been a while since we’ve hugged.”
“Do… d-do you… want to hug?”
“I do. Open your arms.”
Azalabulia looked away and held her arms out for Fenrir. He was happy to accept her open arms, taking her into his own and wrapping them around her.
Serra managed to sneak in between them before they could press their bodies against one another, too.
“Alright. Thanks. Now I have the energy I need,” Fenrir said and began to unwrap his arms from Azalabulia.
“Wa-wait!” Azalabulia said.
“Yeah?”
“You – y-you know what else it’s been a while since we’ve done…?”
“Kiss?”
Azalabulia’s cheeks turned red as her intent was instantly guessed. Before she could even shyly nod, though, Fenrir pressed his lips against hers for a gentle kiss.
“Anything else I’m forgetting, Aza?” Fenrir asked.
“Tha-that’s all for now. You – you’re dismissed!” Azalabulia answered.
“Then I’ll make sure to make my teacher proud with a cool new skill.” With that, Fenrir pulled away from Azalabulia and released Serra from between them.
Serra made sure to make a rather dramatic gasp for air as soon as she was free.
Now, while Serra practiced her skill, Fenrir got into position and thought about exactly what he wanted to accomplish. He even put a bit of extra effort into it by concentrating for an entire sixty-one seconds instead of only sixty seconds. Then, once he was sure of what he wanted to achieve and had it stored vividly in his mind, he brought up his right leg to perform a perfect roundhouse kick.
“Ooh, that was perfect,” Serra said with a small clap. “Have you practiced before?”
“Not at all,” Fenrir answered. “It’s just – well, since my legs in real life are, you know, I liked to watch videos of people kicking ass with their legs. It was sort of like vicariously living through them. I guess that, maybe from watching stuff like that so much, how to do it is ingrained in my head. I’m sure that having a virtual assistant helps in the same way that they help by making us all not look like complete idiots when swinging swords around. How’d you know what a perfect one looks like anyways?”
“My one dad loves watching fight stuff on TV. Mostly wrestling.”
“You have too many parents for me to keep track of.”
“It’s okay. I can’t keep track of them either.”
“Pfftt – wait. I completely lost focus.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll stay quiet.”
“Thanks. You can talk as much as you want after I pull this off.”
“I’ll say lots of lewd things.”
“Of course you will.”
Once more, Fenrir repeated the usual process and got back to kicking. Over and over, he returned to position and kicked the air with perfect roundhouse kicks. He occasionally had to stop for a few minutes to refreshen the image of what he wanted to accomplish in his mind, but then the kicking would resume.
And it went on.
And on.
And on.
For roughly forty-five minutes, almost bringing Fenrir to the point of quitting, he repeatedly kicked the air with no progress being made on the new skill he wanted to use.
Until he did make progress.
Like a switch flipped inside of his mind, he was struck with a sudden surge of inspiration.
Fenrir knew exactly what it was that he had to do.
Rather than kick as his usual self, he brought out his new, fluffier self with his canid arms. He then got into position and, without spending any time to imagine it nor to concentrate, he kicked!
This latest kick seemed like a perfectly normal kick until his leg was halfway to its target. Once it did reach the halfway point, what sounded like a snarling wolf was heard by the three of them as white energy surrounded Fenrir’s kicking leg from the knee down. Then, while it was hard to notice from just how fast it was, there was the silhouette of a wolf’s head alongside his leg that moved in the exact same arc that his leg did.
“I – I think I did it!” Fenrir shouted.
“Your pimp is proud,” Serra said with a round of applause.
Azalabulia was much more visibly excited than Serra. “I told that you could! But… what’s it do?”
“I have no idea. I wasn’t really thinking about what it does so much as I was thinking about how it will look.”
“I would tell you how important it is to think about the effect first, but I know how it feels to aim for the cosmetic side of things.”
“You mean the cosmetic side of explosions?”
“Exactly!”
“Well, as long as I can find somebody to train with, I’ll be able to figure out what exactly this new skill of mine. Assuming that it does something other than look cool.”
“We can test to see if it nullifies magic like your arms do,” Azalabulia said with a sparkle in her eyes.
“You just want an excuse to make something explode, don’t you?”
Azalabulia struck a battle pose with her staff pointed out to Fenrir. “Are you afraid, wolf?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. Your explosions hurt.”
“Then do not allow yourself to get hit by one, not that I will give you any chance to avoid them!”
“Alright, alright. We’re doing this. Serra, you might want to… Serra?” Fenrir asked, looking around for the perverted munchkin.
Then he saw her waving to him in the distance.
Serra already knew to get some distance as soon as it looked like they were about to duel.