Chapter 111 – Loot And Fresh Air

There are three universal constants to reality.

The first is that turtles are, in fact, dogs in disguise. The second is that buckets exist solely for the purpose of leveling stealth. The third is that treasure chests are legally required to contain at least fifty percent disappointment.

As such, I have already prepared my sigh well in advance of reaching the ornate crystal chest now occupying the center of the geode.

I expect nothing. Therefore, I cannot be disappointed.

A flawless strategy.

When we finally approach, Rin casually pats Marek on the shoulder.

"Well, you know the drill."

Marek lets out the weary sigh of a man who has apparently performed this exact ritual many times before. He hefts his tower shield and cautiously advances toward the chest.

I tilt my head.

"Might someone explain why Marek is opening it?" I glance around. "...Or perhaps why everyone else appears committed to observing from a distance?"

Rin shrugs.

"Highest Vitality."

"...?"

"Best odds of surviving if the chest explodes."

…

I stare blankly at him.

"Treasure chests are capable of randomly exploding?"

"Yeah." He says it with the casual confidence of someone informing me that rain is occasionally wet. "Pretty rare, but some dungeons put nasty traps on 'em."

…Traps.

I suppose that means not every dungeon subscribes to the 'Wildlife Extermination Simulator with Mild Architectural Nonsense' school of design.

Noted.

I take one dignified step backward.

Then another.

After a brief moment of consideration—and purely in the interest of scientific rigor—I take a third.

Just in case.

Rin notices immediately.

"Worried now, Little Miss?"

I nod solemnly.

"I would rather not have my spine broken twice in one day."

Everyone winces. The conversation dies with remarkable efficiency.

I glance between them.

"I had believed that to be a rather reasonable concern."

Rin scratches the back of his head.

"It is."

He hesitates, then looks at me with an expression I have never seen him wear before.

"...Just..."

Another pause.

"...The way you said it." His grin has disappeared entirely. "It really drives home just how ridiculously tough you are, Little Miss."

I blink.

Unexpected.

Our local nuisance appears to have briefly developed sincerity.

Which is mildly suspicious.

I consider the statement. Then shrug.

"Aspect Alignment was considerably worse."

Avelyn shivers beside me before nodding with immediate conviction.

Sylrae slowly looks at Avelyn. Then at me. Then back to Avelyn.

Rin does much the same.

"..."

"..."

Finally, the Catkin sighs.

"You two are doing an incredible job convincing me to never accept an Aspect Alignment."

Sylrae nods immediately.

"I was kind of interested before." She pauses. "I'm really not anymore."

I tilt my head.

Curious. That was distinctly not the intended takeaway.

“Opening it now.”

I refocus on Marek as he cautiously lifts the chest’s lid.

It opens without incident, sliding free before clattering against the crystal floor with a sharp crack.

No violent explosion. No concealed pressure wave launching a massive Bearkin across the geode like an exceptionally well-armored cannonball.

Just a normal treasure chest.

How pleasantly anticlimactic.

I let out a quiet breath, and the rest of the party approaches to inspect our rewards.

Inside sits a modest collection of Health, Mana, and Stamina potions, all present and accounted for. Beside them rests a massive crystalline scythe that has quite clearly been taken directly from the first phase of the boss, alongside a katar remarkably similar to the one previously used to provide my internal organs with a deeply unnecessary amount of fresh air.

This version has at least been cleaned and fitted with a proper hilt.

How considerate.

The final item is a pendant set with a brilliant orange-red gemstone, its surface faintly pulsing.

All the finest reused assets the System could obtain on short notice.

I Inspect each item.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Crystal Reaper's Scythe (Epic)]

A massive crystalline scythe severed from the Crystal Reaper's first form. Though detached from its original body, the weapon still resonates faintly with the dungeon's crystal aspect, its edge retaining an unnatural sharpness.

Runic Patterns:

Moderate Structural Reinforcement (20%)

Moderate Momentum Enhancement (20%)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Crystal Reaper's Katar (Epic)]

One of the Crystal Reaper's four crystalline katars. Its edge is unnaturally thin, allowing it to slip through openings in an opponent's guard with ease.

Runic Patterns:

Moderate Armor Penetration (20%)

Moderate Precision Enhancement (20%)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Heart of the Crystal Reaper (Epic)]

A brilliant orange-red crystal recovered from the core of the Crystal Reaper. Despite its compact size, it contains an astonishing reserve of condensed mana.

Runic Patterns:

Moderate Mana Enhancement (20%)

Moderate Mana Regeneration (20%)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Well.

At least one of those items is extraordinarily useful.

I narrow my eyes at the chest.

Two rewards out of three possessing no immediate value to me sits precisely along the border of what I am prepared to consider acceptable.

You are on remarkably thin ice, System.

Rin lets out a low whistle.

"Looks like you got lucky, Little Miss."

I tilt my head.

"How so?"

"I mean..." He points into the chest. "You literally made yourself a whole collection of giant scythes for those vines of yours. I think we can all agree that one has your name on it."

Everyone nods.

It appears a unanimous decision has been reached.

The scythe is mine.

Unfortunately…

I shake my head, earning several confused looks.

"My Starfire is simply too powerful. I have found remarkably few materials capable of surviving prolonged exposure to it." I glance at the crystal blade. "I cannot imagine this scythe would fare much better."

I consider how best to explain.

"It would be like using a paper teacup to sample a true dragon's breath attack."

Silence.

…

Rin blinks.

"...That's..." He scratches the back of his head. "...Actually a really good comparison."

My ears perk slightly.

Naturally.

Zeke gives me a decidedly skeptical look.

"...Did you just compare your flames to a True Dragon's breath?"

I nod seriously.

"A fair comparison, I believe."

He stares at me for a long moment.

Then slowly shakes his head.

"Lyn... I don't know what dragons were like in your previous world, but there's a reason the article on True Dragons is one of the very few entries on the Archive that's freely available."

He pauses, as though trying to determine how best to explain the obvious.

"The Archive itself explicitly warns people to never antagonize one." Another pause. "It doesn't say you'll probably die. It says you will die."

…

That is a rather emphatic recommendation.

It seems whoever compiled the Archive has been thoroughly traumatized by the species.

Reasonable, perhaps.

Zeke's expression softens into something approaching respect.

"I know you're absurdly strong. The System literally gave you the title Apex Predator." He gestures vaguely, as though that should explain everything. "But they're dragons."

My ears twitch.

The temptation to produce one of my dragon scales at that exact moment is... considerable.

Fortunately, I possess remarkable self-control.

Because it will be significantly funnier when everyone eats dragon meat first and only learns where it came from after the system prompt kindly informs them of their new stats.

So instead, I simply shrug.

"Skill issue."

Silence.

Then Rin snorts loudly enough that Sylrae nearly joins him.

"...You know," he says between chuckles, "I genuinely can't tell whether that's the funniest thing you've ever said, or the most terrifying."

I choose not to answer.

Some mysteries are best left unsolved.

"Putting that aside," Rin continues, gesturing toward the chest, "does that mean we're selling the scythe?"

His gaze shifts toward the crystalline katar.

"And that one too? I don't think a single person here actually fights with katars."

True.

A katar would shorten my reach, almost certainly prove less sharp than Astra Nocturne, and—perhaps most importantly—dramatically reduce the visual quality of my combat.

Executing a perfectly unnecessary pirouette simply lacks the same artistic impact when one is holding what is essentially an extremely sharp fist.

Everyone nods in agreement.

The scythe and katar are passed to me for storage until we reach civilization.

That leaves only the pendant.

This decision proves considerably easier.

"I believe the rightful owner is rather obvious."

Rin smiles and lifts the pendant from the chest before presenting it to Avelyn with a small flourish.

"You were the MVP this time around, little miss noble." He places it carefully into her hands. "This one's yours."

Avelyn's ears perk immediately.

Her tail begins swishing with such enthusiasm that, given how closely we're standing, it repeatedly brushes against my leg.

...Acceptable.

It is pleasantly warm.

Avelyn spends the next several seconds attempting to fasten the pendant around her neck. Unfortunately, the clasp appears to have been designed by someone with a personal grudge against fingers.

She fumbles with it once. Twice. Then a third time.

Her ears slowly droop as a mixture of embarrassment and determination settles over her face.

...Adorable.

She glances around the party for the briefest moment before her eyes settle on me.

There is no verbal request. Just a tiny, hopeful smile.

…

"Allow me."

Her expression brightens immediately.

"Oh! Thank you."

Without hesitation, she gathers her reddish-orange hair over one shoulder, exposing the back of her neck while presenting the chain to me.

It seems Avelyn is somewhat clumsy with fine hand movements.

I have learned something new.

I carefully take the ends of the chain, threading the tiny clasp together.

The mechanism is admittedly more complicated than strictly necessary.

Whoever designed this pendant appears to have held exceptionally optimistic opinions regarding an average person's dexterity.

As I work, something soft brushes against my calf.

…Avelyn's tail.

Not the energetic swishing from earlier.

This is…

Different.

Slower and gentler.

I tilt my head.

Suspicious.

Her face has also become rather red.

Even more suspicious.

Movement catches my eye. Just at the edge of my vision, Sylrae silently raises a thumbs-up toward Avelyn.

Avelyn's face somehow becomes even redder.

I blink. Then tilt my head a little farther.

This was…

Intentional?

I finish fastening the clasp before taking a small step back.

"I believe it is secure."

Avelyn turns toward me with a smile warm enough to rival her aspect.

"Thank you, Lyn."

"...You are most welcome."

I continue looking between her and Sylrae.

…

I do not understand what just occurred.

At all.

I consider the matter for a few moments. Then promptly decide that I have already encountered enough incomprehensible phenomena for one afternoon.

Whatever conspiracy Avelyn and Sylrae have formed may remain a mystery for another day.

With the chest thoroughly liberated of its contents, it quietly dissolves into drifting motes of light.

The swirling fog gate waiting nearby is revealed in full.

Excellent.

I had been mildly concerned we would be expected to retrace our steps through the Crystal Forest.

More specifically…

The moth caverns.

I have experienced quite enough airborne crystal wildlife for the foreseeable future.

Marek glances between Avelyn and me.

"Would you two like to do your skill selections first, or head back to town?"

I look toward Avelyn.

She looks back for just a moment before her gaze politely retreats somewhere in the general vicinity of my shoulder.

The decision is unanimous.

"Let's go."

Marek nods once.

"Home it is."

Together, we step through the fog.

The world disappears.

For a heartbeat, there is only soft white. Then my senses begin returning.

Hearing arrives first. Birdsong. Leaves rustling somewhere high above. The distant, pleasantly ridiculous warble of a slime. Footsteps. Voices. Civilization.

Smell follows shortly afterward. Fresh earth. Pine sap. Living wood warmed beneath the afternoon sun.

Real air.

I unconsciously draw a slightly deeper breath.

Ah.

It is good to be outside again.

Finally, my vision clears.

Towering trees replace crystal walls.

Sunlight filters through green leaves overhead, painting shifting patches of gold across the forest floor.

The jagged tear leading into the dungeon rests quietly behind us, looking almost disappointingly harmless after everything it contained.

We are not alone.

Another adventurer party stands waiting nearby.

Judging by the way every single one of them is staring…

They have either been expecting us.

Or we currently look considerably stranger than I had anticipated.

The second option seems considerably more likely.

Marek's armor bears the unmistakable signs of an extended boss fight. Several plates are cracked or missing entirely, his tower shield is chipped along one edge, and only the crystal armguard remains untouched.

Zeke's clothing has acquired several new ventilation holes.

Rin's shirt is decorated with fresh cuts.

Even Sylrae is missing a few pieces of fabric from what was already a remarkably optimistic interpretation of combat attire.

Avelyn's situation is perhaps the most unusual. Part of her outfit has been replaced by kaleidoscopic starlight woven into physical form, the fabric subtly shimmering in a way that immediately identifies it as magical.

Meanwhile…

I appear completely unharmed, wearing a casual hoodie and skirt ensemble that strongly suggests I spent the afternoon leisurely shopping rather than participating in two consecutive boss fights.

…

Yes.

Curiosity is understandable.

The other party begins making their way toward us.

As they do, I study them in turn.

Five people.

The apparent leader is a dark-haired Wolfkin carrying a massive greatsword across his back. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes continuously sweep the surroundings with practiced caution.

Behind him walks a Dogkin dressed in loose-fitting clothing, carrying a long spear.

He appears to be vibrating with barely restrained curiosity.

A Catkin follows beside him, an elegantly carved bow already in hand. Her expression hovers somewhere between excitement and the sort of nervous anticipation one usually associates with someone about to meet a celebrity.

Next comes a Lionkin. Two hatchets rest against his thighs, while his face wears an expression suggesting he has never once lost an argument with himself.

Potentially exhausting.

Finally…

Long ears.

A Rabbitkin.

She walks beside the Wolfkin leader with a light spring in every step, naturally moving on the balls of her feet rather than her heels.

Entirely ordinary.

At least…

Until one notices the weapon.

Strapped across the back of this Rabbitkin—who stands somewhere between Avelyn's height and my own—is a truly colossal warhammer.

The weapon is easily larger than she is.

One face is perfectly flat. The other ends in a brutal spike seemingly intended to resolve philosophical disagreements through violent anatomical restructuring.

Eight out of ten.

An additional point has been considered due to personal bias.

Unfortunately, it remains a hammer.

I Inspect them all.

The Wolfkin and Rabbitkin both possess Rare Tier Two classes.

The Catkin and Dogkin are both Uncommon Tier One.

The Lionkin, meanwhile, possesses a Rare Tier One class. The same rarity Avelyn held prior to her evolution.

Otherwise…

Nothing especially noteworthy.

As expected, Marek steps forward first.

The Wolfkin leader mirrors him almost instinctively, peeling away from his own party as the two wander a short distance aside.

Marek begins quietly explaining something.

The Wolfkin listens.

His expression somehow grows even more serious.

Interesting.

Meanwhile, the remaining four continue toward us.

I tilt my head.

Perhaps this is simply adventurer etiquette. The leaders exchange information while everyone else introduces themselves.

Efficient.

Avelyn lets out a quiet sigh as she subtly straightens her posture.

I blink.

That sigh carried genuine annoyance. A remarkably rare emotion for the Foxkin healer.

Interesting.

It would seem she is acquainted with these people.

The bow-wielding Catkin immediately lights up upon seeing her.

Meanwhile, the Lionkin's expression somehow manages to become even more insufferable.

I observe this for approximately three seconds before reaching a conclusion.

Minor nobles.

Just like Avelyn.

The deduction is, naturally, flawless.

Evidence remains technically inconclusive, but when one possesses intellect of my caliber, evidence rapidly becomes more of a recommendation than a requirement.

My tail gives a dignified, haughty swish.

The Rabbitkin notices.

She looks mildly confused.

I elect not to elaborate.

By the time they reach us, the Catkin has already opened her mouth to speak.

She never gets the chance.

"I didn't expect to see you out here, Redleaf." The Lionkin folds his arms. "I figured you'd spend your whole life hiding behind your father's estate."

Avelyn sighs again.

"...Hello, Hadrian."

Ah.

I have finally acquired her surname.

Avelyn Redleaf.

It fits remarkably well.

I approve.

The Rabbitkin, Dogkin, and Catkin all simultaneously glance at Hadrian with the weary expressions of people who have just about had it with this Lionkin.

Excellent.

He shall henceforth be known as Feather Duster. His hair appears to have declared independence from both grooming and basic structural integrity, after all.

Avelyn notices me studying him.

I glance over.

Then…

A grin spreads across her face. One carrying distinctly mischievous intent.

Concerning.

She leans toward me, lowering her voice.

Unfortunately for the concept of privacy, she lowers it to approximately the volume of a perfectly ordinary conversation.

"His father lost a duel to mine years ago." She smiles sweetly. "Mr. Ashwood doesn't actually care. Hadrian, however, has apparently decided to dedicate his life to correcting what he considers a massive injustice."

She gestures vaguely toward him.

"He comes by every so often to challenge me to another duel. I always politely decline."

I absorb the information.

Hadrian's expression deteriorates further with every word.

Reasonable.

I motion for Avelyn to lean down.

She immediately obliges.

Naturally, I return the favor by speaking at exactly the same volume she had.

"Have you considered accepting?"

She tilts her head.

"It may improve his disposition after losing to a healer."

The silence that follows is exquisite.

Feather Duster's eye twitches.

Avelyn presses a hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to suppress a giggle before leaning toward me once more.

Again…

At entirely normal speaking volume.

"I don't want to damage his ego too much." She glances toward the Lionkin. "It seems rather fragile."

I nod solemnly.

How considerate.

Avelyn truly is a kind person.

Many people would have already accepted the duel. Instead, she has spent an undetermined amount of time quietly preserving this man's confidence.

She straightens as though nothing unusual has occurred and offers him a perfectly polite curtsey.

"My apologies, Hadrian, but having just cleared the dungeon..." She pretends to think. "...I shall have to decline your challenge for the..."

A brief pause.

"...Thirty-seventh time."

…

Thirty-seven.

Feather Duster is, if nothing else…

Remarkably persistent.

His expression has now fully transitioned from arrogant confidence to active sulking.

The Catkin archer has both hands over her mouth, displaying truly heroic levels of restraint in her battle against laughter.

The Rabbitkin, meanwhile, demonstrates no such self-control. She clutches her sides, laughing openly.

I hardly see why.

Avelyn and I had been nothing but polite. We merely happened to possess remarkably loud whispers.

My tail gives an amused flick.

Feather Duster suddenly rounds on me.

"You seriously think I'd lose to her?!"

...?

I look past him entirely, directing my attention to the Rabbitkin instead.

She gradually reins in her laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of one eye before answering the question I hadn't actually asked aloud.

"He doesn't have Inspect." A beat passes. "Says it's a waste of a skill slot."

Feather Duster whirls on her.

"It is a waste of a skill slot."

Her expression changes instantly.

One heartbeat she is barely standing from laughter.

The next…

She looks like someone who has survived considerably more life-threatening situations than is generally recommended.

"It is not." She points directly at Avelyn and me. "If you had Inspect, you'd know both of those girls are so far out of your league it isn't even funny, you little shit."

He bares his fangs.

"The fuck did you just call—"

She punches him in the stomach.

There is a dull whump.

Feather Duster folds neatly in half before collapsing face-first onto the forest floor.

He remains there.

Motionless.

…

I blink at the unconscious Lionkin. Then at the Rabbitkin.

Avelyn mirrors the motion almost perfectly.

The Catkin and Dogkin, meanwhile, appear about as surprised as someone watching the sunrise.

The Rabbitkin casually shakes out her hand.

"Sorry 'bout that." She gestures vaguely toward the unconscious Feather Duster. "His old man hired me."

"..."

"Told me the kid was getting too arrogant." She shrugs. "Said to give him a good thrashing whenever I felt it was necessary."

…

"I see."

"Anyway." She offers us a bright smile, as though rendering minor nobles unconscious were simply another conversational icebreaker. "Name's Hazel."

Avelyn and I introduce ourselves in turn, and before long the conversation settles into something considerably more peaceful.

We speak briefly about the dungeon.

Avelyn catches up with her acquaintances.

As expected, my earlier deduction proves flawless.

The Catkin introduces herself as Tessari, another minor noble who has apparently known Avelyn for the past several months.

The Dogkin, Bran, is a commoner like myself.

Their party is following much the same strategy Avelyn employed a few days ago. Wander into an easier dungeon, accumulate experience, and safely reach Tier Two.

Naturally, they have no intention whatsoever of venturing beyond the Stone Crawler caverns.

An exceptionally wise decision.

The conversation is... pleasant.

Comfortably so.

After the relentless violence of the dungeon, simply standing beneath living trees while talking about ordinary things feels strangely refreshing.

I am almost disappointed when Marek and the Wolfkin leader return.

Their party intends to spend the night inside the dungeon before beginning their delve tomorrow, while we are making for civilization immediately.

Our paths therefore diverge.

Avelyn waves goodbye to Tessari.

Hazel waves as well…

While dragging Feather Duster through the grass by one ankle with all the ceremony generally afforded to an inconvenient sack of potatoes.

"I'll wake him up once you're all gone." She grins. "Got something particularly nasty-smelling ready."

Prudent.

I suspect remaining within the immediate blast radius of his impending meltdown would constitute an avoidable hazard.

They disappear into the dungeon.

Silence settles over the forest. It lasts approximately two and a half seconds.

Zeke stretches until his back lets out an audible pop before letting out a weary sigh.

"Now all we have to do is walk a few hours back to town..." He looks toward the distant horizon. "...Then we can finally sleep in an actual bed."

Everyone except me sighs in agreement.

Rin groans dramatically.

"Having to do the walk-back of doom after everything we just survived really is the icing on the cake, isn't it?"

I am just about to join them…

When inspiration strikes.

I can solve this.

The town is admittedly several hundred kilometers away.

Fortunately…

Distance has always been more of a suggestion than a rule.

I retrieve one of my teleportation talismans from storage and spend a few moments searching for an appropriate location.

Eventually, I wedge it beneath the roots of a nearby tree.

Far enough from the path that it is unlikely to be discovered. Sheltered from the wind. And, perhaps most importantly…

Outside the effective hunting range of any slime ambitious enough to attempt eating runic parchment.

Probably.

Satisfied, I retrieve a second talisman.

Everyone watches in increasingly visible confusion.

I walk over to Avelyn.

"...?"

She blinks as I gently take her hand.

Her face immediately begins turning red.

I then extend my other hand toward Sylrae.

"If you would."

She hesitates for only a heartbeat before taking it.

Interesting.

Her ears are also becoming slightly red.

I glance toward the others.

"Everyone, if you would kindly link hands."

"..."

"..."

"...Okay?" Marek says.

Nobody understands what is happening.

To their credit…

Nobody argues, either.

Moments later, everyone is connected.

Rin reaches for Sylrae's free hand.

The Wingkin's ears redden just a little further.

…Adorable.

I activate the talisman.

The world flashes white.

The forest vanishes. Birdsong changes. The scent of pine becomes fresh farmland. Warm afternoon sunlight replaces the deeper shade of the thicker forest.

Everyone blinks.

Several times.

I store away the now-spent talisman before pointing toward the familiar village nestled in the distance.

"My starting village." I smile politely. "Shall we spend the night here? I can return us to the dungeon entrance tomorrow."

Silence.

A rather impressive amount of it.

Eventually, the party silently reaches what appears to be a unanimous agreement.

None of them are going to question it.

Instead…

They simply look at me with unmistakable gratitude.

As they should.

I smile back before releasing Sylrae's hand.

A heartbeat later, I let go of Avelyn's as well.

Then I begin walking toward the village.

…

I wonder how Sera has been doing.

For reasons presently unknown to me…

My tail gives a small swish.