Chapter 47 Party.

Chapter 47: 47 Party.

The line went dead. I stared at my phone for a moment, debating whether that had gone better or worse than expected.

On the one hand, he hadn’t shown up with a SWAT team. On the other, he clearly wasn’t buying my "nothing to see here" routine.

I turned back to the waffles and mechanically poured batter while my mind raced.

Based on everything that had happened, I was starting to form a theory. There seemed to be some kind of lag or pattern to the portal appearances.

Something was locking onto my location at a specific time every day, finding an open space nearby, and that’s where the portals would open.

Since I was usually at home, the field next to my house was the usual target.

But when we’d spent most of the day in town with the girls, I must have been there during that magic hour when whatever mysterious entity or process pinpoints my location and assigns a portal destination.

It wasn’t immediate—there had been hours between our mall visit and the portal opening.

Of course, this was all just me making assumptions. I didn’t have actual confirmation on anything yet.

I didn’t even know 100% for sure that the portals did follow me, but given recent events, it seemed pretty fucking likely.

If I was right, that meant we could potentially predict and control where portals would open by managing my location during that critical window. We just needed to figure out what that window was.

The waffle iron beeped, jolting me from my thoughts. I opened it to find a perfectly golden waffle staring back at me. At least something was going right today.

I prepared a tray with waffles, whipped cream, and blueberry syrup. Coffee black as ol’ Lazarus for me, a honey-laden café au lait for Elsa, and orange juice for Ayra.

"Breakfast is ready!" I called up the stairs while balancing the tray carefully. "Do you still want breakfast in bed or—"

I heard the thunder of approaching footsteps—well, one set of thundering footsteps, which was Ayra, and one set of dainty, slow steps that made walking sound painfully laborious.

They came stumbling downstairs in states of undress that would have given the sheriff a heart attack if he’d chosen that moment for a surprise visit.

Ayra wore one of my t-shirts and nothing else, while Elsa had wrapped herself in what appeared to be just a sheet, toga-style. Her hair was a glorious mess, too, as she hadn’t bothered to braid it or brush it since last night.

Ayra made a beeline for the food with her nose twitching appreciatively at the aroma of fresh waffles. "Master has made morning delicacies!" she exclaimed, eyeing the whipped cream with particular interest.

Elsa, meanwhile, completely ignored the food. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face against my chest. Her eyes remained firmly closed as she yawned. "Too early," she mumbled, despite it being well past 8 AM now.

"Food’s getting cold," I prompted gently as I tried to move her toward a chair.

She made a shrill whining sound that made me chuckle. With determination, she clung even tighter to me.

She was obviously more interested in using me as a vertical bed than in eating breakfast.

I watched over the elf’s head as Ayra rediscovered the magic of whipped cream for the first time since her frappuccino.

She swiped a finger through the fluffy white mountain topping her waffles and licked it with an expression of pure bliss, her eyes crossing as she let out a silly giggle.

Then, as if remembering something, she started to pull up the hem of her t-shirt.

I knew exactly what was coming next. Without even looking directly at her, I reached over and gave her exposed bottom a hard swat. "There. Lesson learned. No touching the whipped cream with your fingers."

The effect of the innocent spank was immediate and frankly off-putting.

Ayra let out a sound that definitely didn’t belong at the breakfast table, that’s for sure.

Her tail wagged so hard afterward that it threatened to topple her chair as she stood beside it. "Thank you, Master," she breathed as her eyes glazed over.

Elsa’s head jerked up, suddenly wide awake. "What just happened?" she demanded, looking between us with narrowed eyes.

"Nothing special," I explained while gently disentangling myself from her grip. "Now eat before it gets cold."

Ayra had already recovered and was already on the culinary attack, stabbing her waffles with a fork like they wronged her in a previous life.

Elsa stood there for a moment, probably deciding whether to make an issue of it, when her stomach growled loudly enough to spur her to action as well.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she sat down. "I suppose it is indeed time to sate our appetites," she conceded, taking her seat slowly.

She took one bite of waffle and her facial expression transformed. "Magnificent," she declared, gesturing with her fork at Ayra. "You see? I told you he was an exceptional cook. The balance of sweetness and texture is sublime."

"Thanks, but they came from a plastic bag, kinda," I admitted, taking a seat with my own plate. "Just add water and pour into the waffle iron."

Elsa looked genuinely offended. "You dare suggest these delicacies are... common? Mass-produced? I refuse to believe it."

"Believe it, Princess. The real magic is in the toppings."

She sniffed, taking another bite. "Topping me is what I expected you’d be attempting by this time of day, but alas. Well, regardless of the origins of these things, they’re exquisite."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I was grateful for the momentary peace—who knew when we’d next be interrupted by interdimensional crises or law enforcement inquiries?

"So," I said once we’d demolished most of the waffles, "I was thinking we should train today. Test out this new ability."

Ayra’s ears perked up instantly. "Yes! Training! Honing combat skills and powers granted by the System is an excellent way to level up slowly but surely. Practicing makes meditation more effective, too."

Elsa’s enthusiasm was considerably more understated. She made a noncommittal noise and reached for her coffee. "I suppose observing your progress would be appropriate every now and then."

"You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to," I assured her.

"Of course I don’t," she agreed readily. "My power is efficiently allocated for moments requiring devastating impact, not mundane practice sessions."

To translate, she was lazy and had no interest in exerting herself unless absolutely necessary. At least she was consistent.

After breakfast, the girls disappeared upstairs to change.

I cleaned up the kitchen and grabbed my sword from where it leaned by the back door.

The weight of it felt different now, somehow—maybe more balanced? Lighter? It functioned like an extension of my arm rather than just a weapon. Was that the new skill and point in Dexterity already influencing my perception?

Ayra bounded down the stairs in what appeared to be an attempt to assemble a workout outfit.

It was a tank top that barely contained her prodigious bust and undersized shorts she stole from Elsa.

They were so short on her that they made me question whether standing near her would be safe at all for Grey: The Dick.

She’d tied her hair back in a short ponytail, too, but her dog ears were still standing proud.

Elsa followed at a more sluggish pace, wearing more casual clothes that she deemed acceptable outerwear. They weren’t that. They were essentially just another set of skimpy pajamas.

I threw on a tank top and a jacket and we headed out to the open field where the portals usually appeared, far enough from the house that we wouldn’t break anything important if the training got too wild.

"First things first," Ayra announced, suddenly all business. "We need to establish a proper Adventuring Party with you in it."

I blinked. "A what now?"