[Chapter 157. Thoughts of Loneliness]

Iris woke on the mossy riverbank, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above in shifting, dappled patches of brilliant gold. The wool blanket beneath her was dry now, and her silver fur was no longer matted or damp from the Tidal Terrace's frigid waters that had previously clung to her like a second skin. The constant, rhythmic rush of the river beside her had lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep—a steady murmur that had smoothed the jagged edges of her physical and mental exhaustion.

However, the relentless, bright light flooding her vision eventually forced her eyes open. By the sharp angle of the sun’s position in the sky, she estimated that less than an hour had passed since she had drifted off. The journey from the depths of sleep to total wakefulness was brief and jarring, as the world around her remained entirely unchanged and indifferent to her presence.

She sat up slowly, her silver eyes scanning the peaceful bank with practiced caution. No beasts stalked the line of trees—a dangerous fact she hadn't even considered when she had collapsed there earlier. She had been far too exhausted from the brutal battle with the Revenants to care about potential predators or her own safety.

The quiet of the forest stretched on for several minutes as the afternoon warmth seeped back into her fur, providing a stark, comforting contrast to the lingering, chilling touch of the spectral warriors she had slain. Doing nothing sat wrong with her; she knew Searanox would not praise idleness, yet she found herself trapped in a state of forced waiting. But what could she truly do? She couldn't leave this specific location without waiting for his inevitable return.

The town was far too distant to reach on foot in her current state, and the route was undoubtedly swarming with high-level beasts that would test her already depleted stamina and resources. Returning to the Tower alone served no tactical purpose either, as it would mean leaving Searanox to find an empty riverbank upon his arrival. She rose to her feet, folding the blanket with practiced, military care before storing it back into her storage ring.

Her triangular ears twitched, straining for any sound that deviated from the river's constant flow. Nothing. Not even the rustle of a wandering scavenger or the chirp of an insect; the forest felt unnaturally still, as if the environment itself were holding its breath in anticipation of something.

`Hunting would be productive... No, it's no use. I can't carry a full harvest back alone.`

The thought was logical, cold, and calculated. They needed a massive influx of food for the city, but transporting individual carcasses from this deep in the forest to the distant city gates would take significantly longer than simply farming the open plains. Instead of wasting energy, she found a large, flat stone at the very edge of the water. She sat there, dangling her legs in the numbing cold of the current as the sun began its long, slow descent toward the horizon. The sky began to transition, blue bleeding into vibrant orange, then deep purple across the vast sky. The colors reflected off the river's surface like a shifting, painted masterpiece of light and shadow.

Worry began to gnaw at the edges of her mind. Something catastrophic could have happened to him. But then, she forced herself to remember the last time he had returned to her—bloodied, battered, and bearing the unmistakable signs of escaping death by a hair's breadth. His body was a living testament to battles she couldn't even imagine, and that had occurred only a week ago.

`He's fine. He is just busy with something else... or someone else.`

The thought brought no comfort. Instead, her overactive mind began to supply vivid, intrusive images of him with the other women. A violent shiver traced its way down her spine as physical memories surfaced: the weight of his warm hands on her skin, the lingering taste of his salt-tinged flesh after they lay together in the quiet of the night, and the sharp scent of him as she nuzzled into his neck while breathing heavily. She remembered the way her tail would wrap possessively around his leg—a display of dominance and ownership she rarely showed in public but always felt in her core.

The thought of those same hands on another woman's body twisted her gut into painful knots—a visceral, sickening pain that radiated through her entire being. She felt she should be there, serving him, ensuring he had no reason to seek comfort or release elsewhere, ensuring his gaze never had a reason to stray from her. The images in her mind sharpened with cruel clarity: his back arching as another woman was bent over by him, moaning his name in the same desperate tone she had used only days ago. She imagined his fingers tightening in hair that wasn't hers, and skin flushing under a touch she wasn't giving.

The feeling gnawed at her, growing in intensity with each passing second until she shot up from the stone, her claws digging deeply into her own palms. Small beads of dark blood welled up in the crescent marks she left behind. Cold water clung to her legs as she stormed back onto the grass, the droplets tracing wet paths down her fur as they fell.

The Eldritch Zweihänder in her grip, the weight felt alive. The black metal was veined with a pulsing turquoise light that cut through the growing dusk like a neon beacon in the encroaching darkness. The weight of the hilt settled in her hands, familiar and grounding—a physical manifestation of the raw strength she craved.

"I will get stronger," she muttered to the empty forest. The words were barely audible, more of a guttural growl than human speech. "I will be more useful to him than any of them."

She swung the greatsword in a wide, punishing arc, its turquoise glow trailing through the twilight like the tail of a falling comet. Each motion was sharp, violent, and precise—a repetition of the combat forms she had practiced countless times—yet now they felt different, infused with a frantic, desperate energy. The rhythmic, heavy movements did little to silence the intrusive thoughts swirling in her mind; each slash of the heavy blade felt like a futile attempt to carve out the unwanted images of his betrayal.

When the sun finally dipped entirely below the horizon, leaving the world in a shroud of deep blue, she pulled a piece of cooked meat from her storage ring. The familiar, savory taste seemed off, though she knew logically that it shouldn't be—the storage rings preserved food perfectly. The juices should have been steaming as they were when the meat was first seared, and the texture should have been just as tender. The fault wasn't with the food; it was with her, and the bitter, acidic aftertaste of jealousy that even the finest meal couldn't wash away.

Night deepened quickly, the sky transforming from deep blue to a void-like black as the stars emerged one by one, looking cold and infinitely distant. She kept practicing, her movements growing more desperate and ragged with each passing hour, the turquoise glow of her sword pulsing in time with her heavy breaths.

Then, she noticed it: distant patches of stars were winking out in a rhythmic sequence as something large moved across the horizon. It was the telltale sign of his approach.

Three Travel Drones descended moments later, landing silently near the riverbank where she stood poised. Their blue glow cut through the darkness, casting long shadows as they settled onto the grass without so much as a whisper of displaced air or a blade of grass being bent.

"Iris, I hope you haven't been waiting long." His voice cut through the silence of the night, breaking the natural rhythm of the river's flow. "I lost track of time clearing the nodes near the city."

She looked from the three drones to him and immediately dashed forward. Her claws extended slightly before she retracted them, closing the distance between them in a blur of motion. Her head found the familiar, firm crook of his neck as she inhaled deeply, frantically re-memorizing his scent after the agonizing hours of his absence.

"I'm Level 20 now," she murmured against his skin, her voice muffled as she nuzzled closer. She climbed onto the drone behind him, refusing to let go.

There was little to no reaction from him regarding her declaration of power. A soft, involuntary whimper followed from her throat before she felt him lean back against her, using her as a support. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her fingers pressing into the heavy fabric of his coat as her tail curled possessively, tightly, around his leg.

The drone lifted off, rising into the dark, star-studded sky where the other two drones still hovered in a holding pattern. Without a word of explanation, all three drones shot toward the open plains. Her gaze fell on the four women occupying the other two drones—their clothes were torn and tattered in ways she recognized immediately.

The ragged holes in their gear spoke of claws and fangs from a difficult dungeon, but the uniform, circular scorch marks at matching locations on all four women told a much more clinical story: those marks were from Searanox, specifically from the precision lasers of his drones. He had been punishing them.

She didn't ask why he had done it, and she truly didn't care about the reason. What mattered most to her—the only thing that mattered—was the scent clinging to him. It was only his. None of their perfumes or the scent of their sweat mingled with his own natural musk. He hadn't touched them.

As they flew over the darkened plains, the drones began their descent. The machine beneath them dissolved into blue pixels as Searanox’s rifle ejected a thick, violent violet beam of energy into the darkness below. The subsequent collapse of a Titan Bull mirrored their very first hunt together—a small, localized shockwave rippling outward across the grass as the massive beast crashed to the earth. Cargo Drones materialized beside him before the dust had even settled.

"Iris, help me dismember this thing. We need to be efficient."

Where she had once required all of her physical strength just to cut through the thick, leathery hide and the dense muscle below, things were different now. Her Arcane Strike breached the bull's reinforced hide and natural armor plates with almost no physical resistance, taxing her stamina significantly less than it had in the past.

They finished carving the entire massive carcass in under half an hour. This time, they were thorough, harvesting nearly all of the usable meat and filling three drones and most of a fourth.

Before Iris could even finish with the first six-legged bull, Searanox had already spotted and killed another in the distance. By the time the true deep night fell, nine cargo drones were at maximum capacity—twenty-five metric tons of Titan Bull meat harvested from three separate bulls.

A hollow emptiness settled in her chest despite the successful hunt. He spoke to her only in short, clipped commands to help him carve the massive corpses, his focus entirely on the logistical task at hand. As they finally turned back toward the lights of the city, her mind remained fixed on him, wondering with a heavy heart when his attention would finally turn back to her.