Chapter 105 – The Hole in the Ceiling.

Her day off in the room at The Smoking Boar Tavern began with a domestic mishap before Diana even got out of bed.

She was sitting on the straw mattress, still groggy with sleep, and leaned her torso forward to reach the cup of water on the wooden shelf nailed above the headboard.

THUNK.

The sharp tip of Diana's right horn pierced the pine ceiling board as easily as a needle sliding into butter.

Diana reflexively tried to jerk her head back, but the curved obsidian tip stuck fast in the wood. She had to steady her chin with one hand, twist her neck at an awkward angle, and pull carefully to dislodge the horn from the beam, leaving a clean, round two-centimeter hole in the room's ceiling panel.

Diana rubbed the back of her neck, staring up at the hole in the ceiling with an expression of sheer irritation.

—First official victim of the day: The System's voice echoed in her mind in mocking black gold. The ogre's boarding house pine ceiling.

“Shut up, trash can,” Diana grumbled, climbing out of bed barefoot.

She locked the bedroom door, slid the bolt into place, and decided she would not leave that room until nightfall. After reaching Level 40 and enduring that emotional release in the gorge, her body and mind needed twenty-four full hours without monsters, mud, or military planning.

***

Diana sat at the rustic wooden table near the window wearing only her black trousers and a cotton shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

She pulled over the wicker basket she had purchased at the market the previous day, filled with Fire Oranges, thick-skinned, reddish-fleshed citrus fruits that grew along the valley's warm slopes.

She picked up one of the oranges with her left hand and tried to dig her thumbnail into the rind to peel it, applying the habitual pressure she had used when she was human.

SCHLICK.

The black obsidian claw of her thumb cleaved down with effortless brutality.

The natural blade sliced the entire orange in half, sheared through the rind, split the ceramic plate underneath, and carved a two-centimeter-deep furrow into the solid wood tabletop.

Sweet juice from the fruit splashed against Diana's cheek.

Diana stared at the plate broken into two clean halves, blinking with furrowed brows.

“Eighteen Strength with Archdemon claws cuts ceramic like paper,” she muttered, wiping the droplet of juice from her face with her shirtsleeve.

She picked up a second orange and began practicing pressure control with her hands.

She spent ten minutes seated in the chair, calibrating her strength millimeter by millimeter, until she could use the sharp tip of her black nail to slit only the outer rind of the fruit without crushing the sweet pulp inside. Once she succeeded in peeling an entire orange in a single, unbroken spiral, Diana took a generous bite of the fruit, chewing slowly with a proud little nod.

***

Around noon, the tavern hand knocked on the door carrying the lunch Diana had ordered through room service: a deep platter of smoked pork ribs glazed in sweet pepper, a basket of warm rye bread, and an earthenware teapot with boiling water and tea leaves.

Diana paid one silver coin to the young man, who offered his thanks with a bow before heading downstairs.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[FOOD AND LODGING EXPENSES]

- Lunch of Prime Ribs and Specialty Tea: -1 Silver Coin (100 Bronze).

[NEW VAULT BALANCE: 398 SILVER COINS (39,800 Bronze / 39.8 GOLD COINS!)]

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Diana set the platter on the table and looked at the teapot.

The spring water was bubbling with hot steam, at full rolling boil.

Diana did not reach for the wooden spoon.

She reached out her right hand, plunged her entire index finger into the boiling water, and began stirring the tea leaves directly with her claw, swirling the hot liquid at the bottom of the pot.

There were no scald blisters. There was no pain.

Her Archdemon skin registered boiling hundred-degree water as a mild, comfortable warmth, akin to a heated towel draped over one's face on a cold morning.

She drew out her wet finger, dried it on a napkin, and took a sip of tea with a satisfied smile. Innate thermal immunity was one of the most practical traits she had ever experienced.

***

After lunch, Diana decided to test the optical capabilities of her new pupils.

She closed the wooden window shutters and blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into absolute darkness where an ordinary human could not have seen their own hand an inch from their nose.

Diana opened her eyes in the dark.

Her vertical pupils dilated in that very second, and the two golden rings in her irises began rotating slowly.

The darkness of the room resolved into a sharp vision of amber and bluish tones.

Diana could see the individual grain of the wood on the wall, the specks of dust drifting through the air, and even the warm thermal imprint left by the food platters on the table. She focused her gaze on a tiny gravel spider creeping along the door threshold four meters away: her sight zoomed with mechanical precision, allowing her to count the insect's eight slender legs without having to cast a single mana-draining spell.

—There now... the System scoffed in her head. Now you've turned into a magical spyglass with black horns. Are you done playing with your anatomy, Commander?

“Data on one's own physical limits is never play, System,” Diana countered, opening the window shutters to let the afternoon's reddish light pour back in. “Knowing I have passive thermal vision and claws that slice through stone without consuming mana changes all my ambush options for upcoming dungeons.”

***

Diana sat back down on the wooden chair, took a smoked pork rib, and began eating leisurely, chewing the tender meat and savoring the spicy sauce cut with orange juice.

For the first time in weeks, there were no monsters charging toward her. There were no soldiers of Cassius demanding tolls, nor the panic of watching a comrade bleed on a cave floor.

Her body was rested. Her bones were set. The 398 Silver Coins (nearly forty gold coins) remained secure in the vault.

Diana leaned back in her chair, listening to the distant rumble of the city's cauldrons, chewing her meal with a calm, fulfilled smile upon her face.