Chapter 96: Mom Descends

After dinner, the cavern settled into a quiet that felt slightly too complete.

The campfire popped occasionally, sparks drifting upward with the heat toward the ceiling lost in shadow.

There was still half a pot of pork ribs left. Uriel sat on the flat stone, chewing potato without particular enthusiasm. His chewing echoed faintly through the chamber, making the silence feel even louder.

Seraphina sat beside him, staring into the unlit depths ahead.

Neither of them spoke. With the meal finished, the air had gone awkward again.

Uriel cleared his throat and forced conversation. "Doesn't it bother you? Being stuck out here all day with no way to wash up. You're a count's daughter."

She glanced at him with the kind of look reserved for pointless questions. "I've got the discipline of an adventurer. This level of discomfort is manageable." She paused. "Also, Uriel, you seem to have forgotten that not long ago I was held captive in a dungeon for several days. The conditions there were considerably worse than this."

Uriel's mouth stopped mid-chew.

Oh. Right.

She was locked up by the Curse Cult for days. Compared to that, this cavern is a luxury resort.

He stuffed the potato into his mouth and said nothing.

"Any plans for break?" Seraphina asked, changing direction.

"Going home." Uriel swallowed. "Made a lot of money on this trip. I'll buy my mom something nice."

Seraphina nodded. She didn't seem surprised. The answer practically screamed "mama's boy."

Silence again. This one stretched longer than the last, long enough that only the fire's faint crackle remained.

Then Seraphina stood, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt.

"I'm going to rest. Wake me when you're tired and we'll rotate watch."

"You don't need to." Uriel looked up at her, waving a hand. "There's nothing dangerous here. You said it yourself — no predator signs. Just sleep."

"We can't be careless." Her tone shifted, went serious. She looked down at him. "Your mom's probably waiting for you to come back in one piece."

Uriel sighed but didn't argue.

He pulled three small cloth pouches from his belt, walked to the edge of the camp, and started sprinkling powder as he went. First white. Then yellow. Then grey-brown.

"What are you doing?" Seraphina asked, watching him complete the third lap.

"Deterrent powder. Keeps insects and beasts away, puts out small fires, neutralizes toxins." Uriel folded the empty pouches and tucked them back into his pouch, blowing residue off his hands. "Triple-layer insurance. You can sleep."

Seraphina studied the three circles on the ground with mild skepticism. She didn't insist on the watch rotation. Instead, she bent down and crawled into one of the tents. The flap closed behind her.

Uriel returned to the stone seat. He looked at the remaining half-pot of pork and potato, picked up the spoon, and kept eating.

No rush. Finish the food first. Let it settle. Then sleep when he gets tired.

The chamber was extremely quiet. Only the sound of his chewing remained.

The tent gave no sign of movement. Seraphina was probably exhausted.

Then, less than two meters from the campfire, the air rippled.

A sphere of brilliant golden light appeared from nothing, rotated once, then expanded silently into a doorway. The doorway was covered by a translucent golden membrane. Through it, faintly visible, was the interior of an inn room.

A head poked through. Eyes blinked. Locked directly onto Uriel.

"Little Uri~" Galatina's voice came through in a honeyed whisper, soft and drawn-out like pulled taffy.

She was still half-hidden behind the doorframe, her posture furtive, sneaky, utterly devoid of any trace of the hero who had solo-cleared a Demon King.

Uriel jolted upright. His first reflex wasn't to look at her.

It was to look at the tent.

The tent was still. The flap hadn't moved. No sound came from inside. After confirming the zipper hadn't budged, he whipped back around and frantically gestured shush at the glowing door, his expression torn between horror and resignation.

He wasn't surprised. From the moment he'd seen that pot of pork ribs, he'd known she was involved. And he'd known, with absolute certainty, that she would show up.

Galatina nodded in understanding and pushed the doorway open a little wider. She stepped through on tiptoe, moving like a cat sneaking into the kitchen for midnight snacks. Once she was through, the light door contracted and vanished silently behind her, leaving only the dim lantern glow.

Uriel noticed she was holding something bundled in her arms. Probably food. Or a gift. Something.

She walked over and sat down beside him.

"Is the pork good?" That was her opening line.

Uriel nodded, keeping his voice low. "It's good."

Galatina smiled, pleased. Then her expression shifted — became hesitant, a little troubled, like she was reflecting on a serious mistake. "Did I do something wrong? Should I have only prepared one tent?"

Uriel ground his teeth, voice barely above a hiss. "What would one tent accomplish? Make it easier for one of us to stand outside all night on watch?"

"But aren't you two a couple?" Galatina blinked at him, eyes full of innocent curiosity, tone utterly sincere. "Wouldn't that help develop your relationship?"

Uriel panicked. He started gesturing wildly with both arms crossed in front of his chest, movements large but soundless, like he was performing silent theater, desperately keeping his volume down. "We are nowhere near that stage. Seriously. Nowhere."

"So what stage are you at? Have you kissed yet?" She leaned in, eyes sparkling with the unhinged gossip-hunger of a tavern eavesdropper—an expression completely at odds with her divine, world-saving face.

Uriel threw both arms out in surrender, eyes rolling back with the lifeless energy of a man who had given up. He barely kept his voice under control. "Mom. You are unbelievably nosy. You opened a teleport gate and flew here just to ask me that?"

Galatina let out a soft, delighted giggle. The sound didn't match her face at all — it was goofy, satisfied, completely at odds with her near-divine features. "Ahahaha, I just wanted to see if you were eating properly."

At that moment, the thing bundled in her arms shifted.

Uriel finally noticed it was alive, wriggling restlessly, accompanied by an extremely faint mew.

Galatina glanced down and reached out to rub the small head gently.

"Good boy. Don't make noise."

Uriel's attention snapped to her arms as the small head pushed its way out of the bundle.

An orange kitten.

Orange fur. Round head. Ears folded flat against its skull. Eyes half-closed in blissful enjoyment of the head rub.

He'd seen this cat before.

A few hours ago. He'd held it. Scratched under its chin. Held its front paws and wiggled them around. Then launched it in a less-than-graceful arc into the bushes. Right after he threw it, the bushes had produced a roar completely inconsistent with the size of what he'd just thrown.

Wait.

This wasn't a cat.

This was the Veteran Roundhead Tiger.

Uriel shot up off the stone like he'd been launched. He pointed at the orange kitten currently enjoying a head rub in Galatina's arms, finger shaking like a leaf in a storm, mouth open but producing no sound.