-oOo-

  Chapter 15

  -oOo-

  The clack of Sylvia’s heels slowed to a furious walk. Her breath huffed in and out. More psychosomatic than necessity. For demons, stamina was related to ki, and ki was generated by refining ether by way of flesh. Breathing did help to accelerate this recovery, but only by a little.

  “Did I lose them?”

  Sylvia glanced back over her shoulder. A drunk faun stumbled about randomly on the cobble streets of Orasul Lunii. Beyond that, she was alone. The shadows remained dark. Her starlight eyes caught no signs of hidden life.

  Grimacing, the silver-haired witch checked the soul lamps hidden beneath her robes before tucking them in tighter.

  The glow was swallowed by her thick, navy blue coat.

  Soul lamps weren’t heavy. Neither in the conventional sense nor the spiritual. Each soul lamp weighed no more than a dozen droms. Probably a bit less. The souls stored within them, however, were much more massive. So much so that Sylvia had no hope of holding them in her inventory even if she emptied it of everything else.

  Sylvia’s lips quirked.

  “That’s a good thing I suppose,” she muttered to herself. “It would be really bad if the naga stored them.”

  It was a sword that cut both ways. If soul bearing lamps could be hidden in another soul, then Margret and Valerie would’ve been screwed. For that matter, the planes as a whole would be far more dangerous.

  Click-clack. Click-clack.

  Sylvia moved through the winding streets. The festival was closer now.

  “What the hell am I doing?”

  What a fool she’d been. Didn’t she conclude she was no hero? So why was she doing heroic stuff? She must’ve gone insane. Shit. If she’d screwed up, her soul might’ve joined the others. Stolen away to another plane. Sold as a slave. A century of suffering. Maybe more.

  …

  Fuck, and she’d do it again.

  If the event replayed, knowing what she knew now, Sylvia would repeat her actions. And not just because the birdman would’ve gone looking for her.

  “Sometimes you don’t know yourself until the going gets tough,” Sylvia realized. “I guess it’s true. Some heroes are born. Others are made. Though, I can’t be calling myself a hero yet.”

  There was a big difference between pulling someone from a fire and looking for fires to put out.

  Patting the lamps, Sylvia checked her System. Waiting for her was a message detailing her purchase.

  “Fairly similar to Observe Item. That said, was it necessary to follow the crappy game design style where features are never properly described until after you purchase them?” Sylvia groused.

  Lucifer better be taking notes. His GUI could use some work, and Sylvia was his official beta tester.

  Flicking the screen away, Sylvia navigated through the merit shop to make her third purchase.

  To start, Sylvia tapped off the options ‘Announce discovered spells’ and ‘Include public spells in search’. The event log was already cluttered enough, and she absolutely despised microtransactions to the depths of her soul. She paused on ‘Auto share spells for merit’.

  “Who am I kidding? I’m going to sell them all for merit anyway.”

  Right now, Sylvia was the only person bearing a System in the nether. However, sooner or later, millions of ‘gamers’ would pour into the planes. At that time, the spell library would get real thick real fast. Rather than fight the inevitable, wasn’t it better to turn her first mover advantage into profit?

  Besides, it wasn’t her intellectual property Sylvia was publishing. Trust the Devil to be thieving trash.

  Come to think of it, did the netherworld even have intellectual property laws?

  …

  …

  Wait one fucking second.

  “You little shit,” Sylvia growled, stretching the window angrily. “I submitted –,” she paused to check her grimoire, “Two-hundred and eighty-six spells. Don’t tell me that was worth jack!”

  Ding!

  … evaluating...

  … evaluating…

  … evaluating...

  “Oh, now you notice.”

  Was there anything more disconcerting than realizing the System managing her soul had bugs? Oh. Yeah. That the same fucking System was created by the Devil himself.

  Ding!

  …

  “You just fucking cheated me, didn’t you,” Sylvia accused.

  The System window floated, its blue visage pristine, unmoved by the concerns of mortals and immortals alike.

  The silver-haired witch wadded the window into a ball then tossed it aside. Frustration released, Sylvia calculated the damage. Observe Opponent, 200 merit points. Observe Item, 200 merit points. Networked Grimoire, 100 merit points. She’d spent 500 points since unlocking the shop. After adding the 100 point reward, Sylvia was left with 294 merit.

  Not bad.

  In the future, she’d earn a lot more. But enough of that for now, Sylvia had bought Networked Grimoire for a reason.

  Search category: Anti-divination.

  Ding!

  With a happy bell, the System displayed the results. Opening the first, Sylvia started a short chant. Misplaced guilt. Anonymous presence. Tangled weave. She threw out three anti-divination spells in a row before blending into the festival crowd.

  The Festival of Light was still going strong.

  Sylvia slipped through a throng of beast-kin and vampires. As she did, she swapped her newsboy cap for a beret. Enlivened by her ki, her silver tress untangled. Instead of lingering in a braid, her hair fell in a straight, glossy fountain. Sylvia would’ve changed her robes too, but she didn’t dare show a pair of soul lamps amidst the crowd.

  Here she was, saving souls and smuggling illegal objects. Clearly, this was Riley’s fault.

  The silver-haired witch traveled with the masses for a few minutes, her head well below those surrounding. Then she broke free heading toward Vallenfelt’s mansion.

  Being mixed with strangers was nerve wracking without friends.

  Luckily, she passed through this tribulation unmolested.

  Upon entering the mansion, Sylvia called one of the servants aside. “I need to see the baroness.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

  Esmeralda Vallenfelt, for once, hadn’t claimed the spire. Or perhaps, she had and that was her bedroom while this was her study. Upon reaching the door, the servant knocked twice.

  Knock. Knock.

  “You may enter.”

  Sylvia whisked past the woman and stepped through the door.

  “Teacher,” she greeted with a well-mannered curtsy.

  “Sylvia,” Esmeralda returned pleasantly. The green haired dean was behind a desk, pouring over paperwork. Her eyes flickered up momentarily before returning to her task. “You’re up late, I see. I hope you’ve been enjoying the festival.”

  “I did, but that’s not what I’m here for.”

  Sylvia dropped both soul lamps on Lady Vallenfelt’s desk with a thunk. The dean stilled. Expression grim, the baroness lifted the caged orb glowing with yellow light.

  “Who would dare,” she hissed with fury. “■, ■■, ■.”

  Esmeralda unleashed three lightning fast spells. The air buzzed. Sylvia could see the faint flux of magic. Ah. The first spell. Was that silent boundary?

  “Explain,” she demanded sharply.

  Today, Sylvia withheld no information.

  “I spotted Margret and Valerie at the docks, they were looking to buy tickets to another plane. While doing so, they stumbled upon something they shouldn’t have and ended up like that,” Sylvia said, pointing at the soul lamps. “Since I was there, I pulled their asses from the fire.”

  “A lady does not curse,” Lady Vallenfelt chided. “I find myself both pleased and cross. We will discuss this later. ■. Glenda, I require your presence.”

  Ethers of psychic and causality pulsed, intertwining to form the aspect information. Esmeralda cast her words into the wind, letting them be carried to the person in question.

  While waiting for her retainer’s appearance, Lady Vallenfelt shuffled through her desk. From a drawer she pulled two disks. Spirit jade, in the shape of a thick coin.

  “Hold still and don’t resist.”

  Esmeralda stepped around her desk. The baroness stopped in front of Sylvia. For a frozen moment, the silver-haired witch found her visage reflected in the dean’s magnificent eyes.

  “■■■.”

  Lady Vallenfelt tapped Sylvia on the head, a wisp of psychic energy flowed down on her fingertip. Sylvia let the energy sink into her consciousness. Images flashed through her mind. Walking through the docks. Margret and Valerie, speaking to the sailors. The naga pulling the lamps from his soul. The crack of lightning from her staff.

  The baroness pulled her hand back. Between her fingers was a flickering echo. A copy of Sylvia’s memories.

  “You used anti-divination magic,” Esmeralda noted.

  “I didn’t want them to come looking for me.”

  One might think silver-haired witches a rarity. They weren’t. Sylvia knew of two girls with a similar color in the Academy. There were surely more among the graduates. If Sylvia were to further expand the list to witches with hair that looked silver under the moonlight, the number would jump considerably.

  Without a way to narrow which witch, targeted revenge would be difficult.

  As for random vengeance? Sylvia looked at her teacher. Uh. Yeah. That’d be ill-advised.

  “Wise, though it will reduce the value of your testimony,” Esmeralda replied. “■.”

  With another spell, Lady Vallenfelt clipped fragments from the remembrance. A director snipping segments from a reel of film. Then, the dean pressed the psychic imprint into a jade disk. Once recorded, she clicked two disks together with a second psychic pulse.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Sylvia commented.

  There was a knock on the door. The baroness gestured. The door unlocked itself then opened. Professor Fischer entered with a curtsy.

  “Milady.”

  Like many of Sylvia’s fellow witches, Glenda chose to celebrate the Festival of Light with a new wardrobe. The professor was wearing a slinky, blood-red dress slit around the thighs. She matched it with a snazzy, crimson witch’s hat.

  Professor Fischer, as usual, had style.

  “Grab a few senior students then head for the docks.” Baroness Vallenfelt ordered. “I want you to burn the Plutous to ash. And take this,” Esmeralda added, tossing a jade disk. The blonde professor snatched it from the air. “Report to the guard after. Tell them I want every sailor registered to that ship arrested.”

  “Ke ke ke,” Glenda snickered in a way that sounded all too authentic. Professor Fischer curtsied with joyful abandon. “Your will be done, milady.”

  The Professor left the room as quickly as she came.

  The dean gestured again. The door closed with a thud.

  “That girl,” Esmeralda said with a shake of her head. “Sometimes I wonder what possessed me to take her as a retainer.”

  “Talent,” Sylvia reminded with a loose grin.

  “Talent indeed,” Esmeralda sighed. “Sit.”

  The baroness followed her own advice. Folding her hands elegantly, Lady Vallenfelt addressed her apprentice.

  “Now that the immediate concerns have been settled, let us discuss your behavior. First, I must commend you on saving your erstwhile peers. It takes bravery to face those who bear threat to the soul. It brings me honor to have such a courageous charge.

  “However.” The dean’s eyes sharpened. “You are far too young to be engaging in such heroics. Perhaps you are under the impression that having reached the first consolidation means you are strong. You are not. Your power is merely ordinary.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Sylvia said with a grimace.

  “It is good that you are,” Esmeralda said harshly. “I will say nothing of your visit to the docks, but if I find you taking risks like this again, you shall be restricted to the Academy until such time that your head is worthy of your heart.”

  Lady Vallenfelt’s expression turned gentle. “Now then, my adorable apprentice, is there anything else you wish to speak about?”

  Sylvia hesitated. There was. But dare she ask it?

  The silver-haired witch grit her teeth.

  “The dresses in my closet. Did you pick them for me?”

  “I did,” Baroness Vallenfelt confirmed. “Though I shan’t require you wear any before the grand ball. However, it is my wish that the opportunity be present, should you please.”

  Esmeralda’s eyes turned sly. “But I must say, it is quite surprising to see you so keen.”

  The silver-haired witch turned flustered. “I’m not – I wasn’t implying… I just thought it was strange.”

  “Is it so strange for a master to look after their apprentice?” Lady Vallenfelt inquired.

  Sylvia’s lips tightened. “No. I suppose it isn’t.”

  In fact, having made the connection, nothing was more normal than for Esmeralda to obsess over Sylvia’s appearance. A sick feeling rolled in Sylvia’s gut. Her heart lurched as though the world underneath had suddenly moved in a new direction.

  Not wanting to remain for a second longer, Sylvia curtsied before heading for the door.

  “Not so fast, my dear,” Esmeralda countermanded. “If I am not mistaken, earlier this eve you displayed a most excellent mastery of the waltz of flowers. Show me your progress. Then return the jade scroll, if you would.”

  …

  …

  Sylvia stood frozen. She turned, slowly, as rigid as a statue.

  Lady Vallenfelt’s gorgeous eyes narrowed. “It seems you have withheld something of import.”

  The silver-haired witch let out a strangled laugh. “I might have, accidentally, used the whole scroll.”

  “Accidentally.”

  The baroness pronounced every syllable of the word precisely. She held out one, perfectly manicured hand, waiting. With dread, Sylvia withdrew the jade scroll and returned it to her master. Lady Vallenfelt checked the item, expression strict.

  “This, I think, calls for discipline. Luckily, I have just the punishment on hand.”

  Esmeralda’s wicked smile was worthy of a witch.

  -oOo-

  The new year dawned.

  The hour, as always, remained still in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. No golden gleam greeted the change of calendars. Night remained. Darkness draped eternal upon Orasul Lunii, the shadows battled only by the light of the silver moon. The castle stood as a silhouette, a scene as cliché as it was beautiful.

  What stood out the strongest was the tranquility.

  Fireworks no longer filled the sky. Faeries didn’t dance, carrying shimmering streamers. Music didn’t cling to the air, alluring with its distant melody. The traffic on the streets had changed its nature. Demons bustled about, completing tasks and duties. Many walked half lidded, drained by the lack of sleep. Others squeezed their eyes, cursing the light cast by the street lamps, heads pounding from drunken revelry.

  The Festival of Light was over. Today was the first day of the first week of Men-Lux.

  Which meant the Young Demon’s Tournament had begun.

  Soon, the empty streets would fill with warriors. The joy of the festival would be replaced by the lust of the coliseum. Three days were set aside for the preliminaries. On the fourth of Men-Lux, the survival round would begin. By the seventh, victory would be decided. The winners of the minors would be allowed a day of triumph before the blood spilled by the majors left them forgotten.

  “Sylvia!”

  Emily ran across the lawn before pouncing on the silver-haired girl. The brunette clung to Sylvia like a koala, her arms wrapping tightly around Sylvia's waist.

  “It was horrible,” Emily whined. “Six girls in one room and no Sylvia to heal me with her cuteness.”

  Sylvia froze, one hand extended to pat the brunette on the head. Her mind spun in circles, trying to figure out how to interpret the situation.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “How did you sleep?” Riley asked, trailing a few steps behind.

  “Well enough,” Sylvia answered.

  Having a room to herself had been freeing. There was also an emptiness to it. Sylvia had been tempted to try a little ‘experimentation’, but recent revelations had spoiled her mood.

  “Was it lonely?” Emily asked, peeking up.

  “I didn’t have any creepy stalkers staring at me while I was sleeping,” Sylvia replied, ruthlessly.

  Emily released her hug and stuck out her tongue. “I’m too cute to be creepy.”

  Was that Emily admitting she was a stalker? Sylvia relaxed. The brunette was right. She really was too cute to be creepy.

  Th-th-thud.

  A carriage rolled through the mansion gates, pulled by a massive bear. The golden furred phantasm let out a threatening growl, driving curious witches back. The door opened. From the carriage stepped a suave man. He had messy, black hair and blood-red eyes. Tall. Handsome. Lanky. Pale. No glitter.

  A stereotypical vampire.

  The System dropped the label C-V/Low. A devil at the bottom of the third consolidation. A Codrin clan elder, no doubt. On a developed plane, he’d be a nobody. In the Timeless Beryl Wilderness, this man represented the pinnacle of power.

  Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt was C-V/Mid.

  Sylvia was sorely tempted to try an active scan. She held her foolishness. There would be plenty of targets in the tournament.

  “What’s that about?” Riley asked, as they headed toward the gates.

  Sylvia frowned. She hoped there wouldn’t be trouble.

  “Last night, Professor Fischer took Brianna and Piper to burn a ship in the harbor,” Tiffany jumped in, full of gossip. “Turns out it belonged to Baron Ishii.”

  The blue haired witch had an excited smile.

  “What the hell?” Riley questioned.

  “Baroness Vallenfelt’s orders,” Sylvia said, answering the implicit question.

  Tiffany’s eyes gleamed, sensing a good rumor.

  “You know something, don’t you? You have to tell me,” Tiffany demanded, stepping close. “I’ve been bugging Piper all morning, but she won’t say a thing!”

  “Mmm,” Emily hummed in annoyance. She tugged at the silver-haired witch. “Come on. Kyna and Ingrid are waiting.”

  Well said. Sylvia admired Emily’s timely excuse.

  “Right. We’re busy,” Sylvia confirmed, even though she’d rather gossip than face what was coming.

  “Oh?” Tiffany’s eyes twinkled. “Is it something interesting?”

  Emily giggled. “Sylvia is trying on her new armor. I can’t wait for her to show it off. It’s ~so~ cute.”

  Sylvia’s eye twitched. “I hate it already.”

  Tiffany clapped her hands with a squeal. “Oh! How exciting!”

  “Kyna, Ingrid, and I helped design it.” The little brunette said, puffing up happily.

  “Then it must be beautiful,” Tiffany sighed. “I’ll see you later, Sylvia. Don’t forget to tell me about your teammates!”

  …

  “Sure,” Sylvia responded, letting herself be dragged out the gates. “Right after you tell the strengths and weakness of yours.”

  Seriously. They were competitors. Did Tiffany think Sylvia was stupid enough to sell her team out?

  As they left the noble quarters, traffic picked up. The first wave of competitors were raring to go. Sylvia felt the rush. It was better to complete the preliminary rounds early rather than late. By the time the third day came, the fights would be whittled down to those who had won two or more matches.

  The strongest of the strong.

  On the first day, there were easier prey.

  By Professor Wright’s estimates, there would be between one and two thousand competitors fighting in the minors. Of those, no more than a hundred could make it into the survival round.

  Sylvia’s plan was to fight this afternoon. Before that, she had to collect her armor, watch a few exchanges, and burn her last skill book.

  Ten minutes later they reached the shop.

  Enchanted Elegance was written on a sign outside the store, the meaning behind the curvy script understood only by way of spirit speech. In the windows were mannequins wearing tops, skirts, robes, and dresses.

  A horrible, stuffy feeling formed in Sylvia’s chest. The same sense young Eric had when dragged into the mall by his mother. If there was a redeeming factor, it was that this shop was small. It had no equal to the department stores of Eric’s childhood.

  Steeling herself, Sylvia stepped inside.

  “The three of you are here,” Ingrid greeted with a smile. The succubus was wearing a slinky, white dress with a matching pair of sexy heels.

  Sylvia gave a questioning look. Today the demoness was positively demure.

  Ingrid didn’t deign to answer.

  “Is this where you’ll be working after graduation?” Riley questioned, looking around.

  “Ingrid will be serving under me for the next ten years, provided she meets my expectations,” a woman answered. Her eyes turned to the silver-haired witch. “You must be Sylvia Swallows. Welcome to Enchanted Elegance. I am Kagome, proprietress.”

  The woman offered a slight bow, proving not every lady curtsied.

  Kagome’s complexion was pale, near alabaster. Hair spilled down her back like melt water from a glacier, filled with varying depths of blue. A snow witch. A demoness of the hecates lineage best known by the name yuki onna.

  Kagome leaned forward, examining Sylvia’s face.

  “Lovely,” she pronounced. “The colors will suit you perfectly. Especially those eyes. The eyes of a starlight witch inspire such envy. Baroness Vallenfelt is truly a woman of good taste.”

  Starlight witches were of the genera magissa while snow witches came from the branch xemyalistra. By blood, they could be considered distant cousins. Magissa reflected the maiden while xemyalistra echoed the mother. Nowhere was this more apparent than in Kagome’s voluptuous body.

  The yuki onna was a true, mature woman filled with allure and temptation.

  She was also tall. A full head taller than Sylvia. And that was including Sylvia’s stripper heels.

  “Ingrid is lucky to have such an incredible teacher,” Emily said politely.

  “With the baroness flooding the plane with magissa, we mitera have to support each other,” Kagome answered simply.

  Xemyalistra translated to temptress. Some witches from the genera took exception, calling themselves mitera instead. The rebranding might’ve shown more success if snow witches didn’t share their branch with sirens and succubi.

  “Enough of the pleasantries. Ingrid, as you drafted the enchantment code, I will allow you the honors,” Kagome said.

  “My pleasure,” the purple haired succubus accepted.

  “Show us the dress! Show us the dress!” Kyna cheered, sitting on the edge of a counter.

  With the sway of her hips, Ingrid sauntered up then pulled a curtain aside.

  Sylvia’s mind went blank.

  She knew netherworld armors didn’t conform to mortal standards. A year in charm club had revealed to her all sorts of absurd equipment. Professor Wright’s Field Studies had only served to clarify the gap between ethereal and material logic.

  So it was of no surprise that her ‘armor’ resembled a dress.

  Nothing, however, could’ve prepared her for this horror.

  The monstrosity was, succinctly said, an answer to the burning question: ‘What if a faerie, a succubus, and a witch with a magical girl fetish conspired to create a dress together?’

  A sheer, mesh leotard covered the torso. The thin fabric was near transparent carrying a slight, silver glint. Wrapped over it was a black corset, cinching around the waist. The fine fabric was covered with dark, silver etching while the front was laced with pink ribbons tied in a series of perfect bows. Two cups embraced a mannequin’s breasts, adorned with cute, pink fluff.

  Beneath the corset lay a ruffled black skirt short enough to be called scandalous. Three layers of lace returned a measure of decency, alternating between pink, white, and pink. A gap of absolute territory followed, broken by black stockings, trimmed with silver thread. The shoes were, of course, heels. Twelve centimeter pumps, with broad pink ribbons wrapping the calves with bows at the back.

  On the shoulders, was a shawl of sorts. The shape hinted at a shirt’s collar, black with silver trim. Fabric ran from it down the mannequin's arms blooming into a pair of bell-like sleeves, embellished with pink lace. On the mannequin's back, the shawl was longer, creating a stylized cape. As with everything, the outer material was black. The inner however, was instead embroidered with silver stars, giving glimpse to a mysterious galaxy.

  “I insisted on the hat,” Riley offered, as the silver-haired witch stood stunned. “Emily wanted a tiara.”

  Sylvia gazed at the blonde in a daze.

  “Tiaras are impossible,” Kagome clarified. “Crowns, coronets, and diadems are restricted by law to high nobility.”

  Riley grinned, then leaned close. “I didn’t say I tried hard.”

  “Don’t just sit there staring, put it on and let us see it!” The pink haired faerie squeaked.

  “Come on, Sylvia!” Emily cheered in combination. Her dark, emerald eyes were twinkling. “You’ll be like a magical princess.”

  Yes. Yes, she would. That’s exactly what Sylvia feared. Then the dread grew deeper. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. She was going to have to wear this horror during the tournament. In front of everyone. In front of the whole fucking plane.

  “Fudge,” she cursed.

  “Don’t be shy, dear,” Kagome encouraged. “I need to see it first so we can make the final adjustments.”

  Fuck, she thought again, this time keeping her cuss internal. Reluctantly, Sylvia stepped forward. The silver-haired witch grabbed the jewel that sat between the mannequin’s breasts. With the nudge of her ki, the armor transformed.

  Dark ether whirled. Skirt, shawl, and corset evaporated before being sucked into the gem. Left behind was a naked mannequin wearing only a pair of heels and a hat. The hat, Sylvia sensed, was a joined accessory. A weird sort of entanglement common in netherworld outfits. Sylvia gave the jewel a nudge. The hat vanished as well.

  Then, Sylvia slipped the gem into her soul.

  Like her staff, this was soulbound equipment. Once stored, Sylvia could project her armor’s shadow. In this way she’d have a set of clothes even after being reborn.

  Not that she would use them because Sylvia would rather wear a white dress!

  Now, only the pink heels remained. These were a separate piece.

  Odd as it was to say, Sylvia was rather happy to kick off her platform heels and slip into her new pink pumps. After putting them on she took a few steps to get a feel for them. So short. So sensible.

  Bliss.

  …

  …

  Misery.

  How thoroughly had she been brainwashed to think twelve centimeter heels were sensible? Heels this high surpassed those worn by Allison Myers!

  Binding her new shoes before projecting them, Sylvia cheered herself with a System window.

  Observe Item.

  Ding!

  Sylvia did, in fact, know an appropriate movement skill. Thanks, shitty System, for the reminder.

  Sour, Sylvia picked up her old platform heels and offered them to Riley.

  “Here. They’ll help you feel tall,” Sylvia said with a malicious smile.

  Riley smirked.

  “The only thing that matters is that I’m taller than you,” Riley countered. “Which I am. And stop dithering. Emily’s about to explode.”

  Sylvia glanced over at the brunette. Emily was shaking, both fists clenched, cheeks puffed. A low and eager hum was rising from her throat.

  Sylvia shook her head in disbelief. Then she loosened her robes.

  “No need, darling,” Kagome interrupted. “When projected, your armor will substitute your current outfit. When put away, the process will reverse. But nothing too heavy, mind you. Your soul must still bear the weight of whatever you are wearing.”

  “Convenient,” Sylvia praised.

  “It’s like a magical transformation,” Emily said excitedly. The brunette spun on her toes. “When you change, you have to pose!”

  …

  “No.”

  Emily gave her the world’s most adorable puppy dog eyes.

  Making a point of ignoring the brunette, Sylvia released her armor’s shadow.

  Ether puffed, forming a dark cloud. The mist swirled around her, protecting her dignity while her clothes were drawn into her inventory. The leotard formed first, followed by skirt and corset. Shawl and stockings came after. Last to appear were the accessories. Lace, earrings, and a broad witch’s hat.

  Before Sylvia could react, an elated squeal filled the room.

  “Eeaaa! It's ~so cute~!” Emily squeed.

  “I still say we should’ve done more to emphasize her legs and breasts,” Ingrid mused. “The mesh detracts from the allure, but I do like the delicacy. It makes her look so vulnerable. I just want to eat her up.”

  “It's cute, cute, cute,” Emily continued in the background, stomping her little feet.

  “On the contrary, I think it’s too lewd,” Kyna refuted. The pink haired fairy tapped her lips. “Perhaps if we made it more playful? Little bows around the hem of the skirt like Emily suggested?”

  “And two giant pink bows on either side of the hips!” Emily chimed in.

  “If we add bows to the skirt, we have to add them elsewhere, or it’ll throw off the balance,” Ingrid commented. “If the dress is too busy, it will detract from her assets.” The succubus pondered for a bit. “The heels should be higher.”

  “You always think the heels should be higher,” Kyna retorted. “Also, black bows. Black bows will add a little flair while blending with the dress. Throw a couple on the sleeves and it fits.”

  Ingrid nodded. “I can see it.”

  With dead eyes, Sylvia turned to Riley.

  The blonde scratched a freckled cheek. “I hate to say it, but I’m with Emily on this. You are extremely cute. And I mean that as a compliment.”

  “Right! Right! I’ve been saying it since the start, Sylvia is super cute.”

  Sylvia’s gaze turned into a glower.

  “How about we give the girl some space so she can look for herself,” Kagome suggested.

  Mirrors weren’t as common in Hell as they were on Earth. Sylvia’s dorm room didn’t have one. The dorm building had several on every floor. Charm club also had a few. Sylvia would even use them from time to time to check her looks after acquiring a new hat.

  Hats were important!

  But Sylvia had never seen herself like this.

  On her head was a broad brimmed hat. The conical top flopped back in a beautiful crook, a silver moon ornament hanging from the tip. The fabric was black with a dark silver pattern to it while the underside was tinged purple, embroidered with mystifying silver stars.

  Beneath the brim, hair spilled down her back in a French braid, bangs framing her face. While Sylvia thought of her hair as silver, the color was closer to light gray tinged with a hint of lavender-pink. It was shiny, straight, and silky with a character dancing on the edge of metallic.

  Her skin was pale. Not pallid like a vampire, nor white like a yuki oni. Instead, it was smooth, soft, and supple like the skin of a child. The black fabric of Sylvia’s dress stood in sharp opposition, dark hard against her healthy glow. Her frame was delicate, challenging Emily’s fragile cuteness. But her hips and bust had more shape than those of the brunette.

  The skirt and corset emphasized both.

  Then, there was her face.

  Cherubic.

  Sylvia’s nose was adorable. Her rounded cheeks blended perfectly with her elegant chin. But the masterpiece was her eyes. Wide and enchanting, like those of an anime girl. The irises were candy pink, filled with a fractal universe. Her pupils, a telescope into an ancient galaxy a billion light years away.

  She was cute.

  Even Sylvia was forced to admit it.

  With her puffy skirt, bell sleeves, and dangly teardrop earrings Sylvia was an ode to adorableness. Sylvia was cute to the point that Eric might’ve used a picture of her as the background of his computer screen. So cute that Sylvia had a sudden itch to pose and twirl, just so she could see what it looked like.

  Terrifyingly cute to the degree that Sylvia wondered, how much cuter would she be in twin tails. With bows. Maybe even – shudder – curls.

  She trembled.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  This was an abomination. She had stepped past the pale. She was gazing into the abyss and the abyss was looking back. She had gone mad. Eldritch horror was stretching its claws and tearing at her sanity.

  There was no hope. She had been undone.

  Sylvia turned to her sole source of salvation. “Kill me,” she begged. “Kill me please. I can no longer be saved.”

  Riley just stared.

  “Even if I killed you, you’d resurrect. And you’d still be wearing that dress,” the blonde pointed out. “Also, we’re in Hell. We’re pretty well damned already.”

  Emily giggled at their theatrics.

  “I used void silk for the main body,” Kagome interjected, describing the armor’s features. “Void silk is fragile but stubborn, meaning that the material will tear easily but so long as the essence is not damaged the ether will quickly recoalesce.

  “The defense is provided through a barrier. We used the aspect force combined with a law of crystallization. Most attacks won’t penetrate without breaking the field entirely. The spatial coordinates are guided by your clothes, so the barrier should be skin tight. However, it will become bulbous around the face if you go without the hat.”

  As if Sylvia would ever forget her hat. That was sacrilege!

  …

  Unless... it was to wear a different hat.

  “The barrier can be slick,” Kagome continued. “Because of the stocking, it won’t be an issue around the feet. However, when holding objects with your hands use your ki to firm your grip. Finally, when wearing magical armors you may experience some drain. If you find the drain to be too much, switch to standard clothing during periods of rest.”

  While Kagome spoke, Sylvia checked the System’s deductions.

  -oOo-

  Bestiary:

  Dogman Sailor

  Species: Beast-Kin (Beryl Blood Wolf)

  Lv: 115

  Hp/Mp: 324/107

  Atk/Def: 131/37

  Celerity: 165%

  Catman Sailor

  Species: Beast-Kin (Beryl Night Panther)

  Lv: 103

  Hp/Mp: 324/97

  Atk/Def: 127/35

  Celerity: 150%

  Birdman Sailor

  Species: Beast-Kin (Ersetu Storm Gull)

  Lv: 174

  Hp/Mp: 370+75 / 397

  Atk/Def: 125+60 / 20

  Dominion: 70 (innate wind magic)

  Celerity: 200%

  Chenzira, First Mate of the Plutous

  Species: Naga

  Lv: 252

  Hp/Mp: 871/244

  Atk/Def: 214/85

  Celerity: 180% (210%, short motions)

  Bloodline: Beast-Kin

  Type: Physical/Mixed

  Potential: Low

  Commonality: Common

  Formal Name: Ouranios Thirio Anthros

  A bloodline synthesized shortly before the start of the Colonial Age and instrumental to its success. Beast-kin were created with the goal of universal compatibility with chimeric code. In fact, the bloodline can only be given to chimeric souls. While the intent of universal compatibility was not exactly realized, the bloodline came close. Beast-kin thus opened the door to the cheap processing of chimeric souls, allowing for greater exploitation of wilderness resources.

  Being derived from the ouranious (heavenly) lineage, beast-kin are prone to human forms and figures. One result is that, unlike most bloodlines, the first two consolidations have a strong humanizing effect. During this period beast-kin may experience a large improvement to their talent, appearance, and symmetry.

  Because the type and amount of chimeric code contained in the source chimeric soul is different, beast-kin can easily run into a wall during advancement. If this occurs, then to proceed the individual will be forced to take in the nether code from other species and rely upon their bloodline’s innate capacity for adaptation. This action is risky and can easily degrade talent. Because of this, beast-kin rarely achieve Awakening.

  As a low ranked bloodline, beast-kin form a natural underclass in Hell’s society. This ‘feature’ is prized by slavers and merchants desiring cheap labor. In combination with Hell’s colonial expansion, this has caused the beast-kin population to soar. Currently, this bloodline makes up a tenth of Hell’s overall population. On colonial planes, that ratio is often three to five times higher.

  Beast-kin form traits based upon the innate abilities of the creatures from which they are born. Due to their need for additional chimerism, the trait distribution of high consolidation beast-kin is almost always unique.