"The soil activity here still isn't enough. We need to add more catalytic reagent we 'borrowed' from the elf race."
Schwi crouched at the edge of the field, her voice perfectly flat as she analyzed the data.
"Ugh, what a pain."
Jibril let out an enormous yawn, lazily fluttering her wings.
"With stuff like farming, why not just let ripen it with magic~? Or we could just raid the elves' grain depots~"
"No."
Couronne refused without hesitation.
Hands on her hips, she had all the presence of a big-sister leader.
"We can't rely forever on Rei Ao-sama's protection or on your power.
Humans have to learn to survive on our own—that's what Rei Ao-sama wants to see!"
"Yeah, yeah~"
Jibril waved her hand perfunctorily, her mind already drifting elsewhere.
To be fair, compared to the despair and ruin when Rei Ao-sama first saved this village, the place had been transford.
Better houses.
Newly reclaid fields.
Even simple defenses and so basic tech they'd "learned" from Schwi.
None of it would exist without Schwi's knowledge—and the monts when Jibril was willing to actually do so heavy lifting.
But… it was still so boring.
Jibril idly kicked a pebble at her feet.
No battles.
No bloodshed.
Just spending every day with tiny humans while they farm and build…
This peaceful routine was driving her up the wall.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to that chat group linking countless worlds—and to the master who was powerful and mysterious, yet soone she gladly submitted to—Rei Ao-sama.
Especially when she rembered that very first "exchange."
That unprecedented, bone-deep, shiver-inducing, addictive euphoria…
It was like the sweetest poison; once tasted, impossible to forget.
More than once, she found herself replaying it in the dead of night, unable to let it go.
Should she… send Master another trade request?
Say it was, um, to report progress?
Or to ask for guidance?
And then maybe…
The daring thought made her heartbeat quicken, a faint, unnatural flush rising to her cheeks.
But she soon tamped it down, a bit anxious.
Would Master think she was being greedy?
Or assu her mind was in the gutter, thinking only about that?
While she wrestled with herself—
both Jibril and Schwi suddenly froze at almost the exact sa mont.
The languor and daydreaming vanished from Jibril's face without a trace, replaced by razor-edged focus and caution.
Her wings spread a fraction on instinct as she went on alert.
Behind Schwi's goggles, a red glow lit up as her eyes snapped into high-speed analysis mode.
"What's wrong with you two?"
Couronne felt the mood twist beside her and asked in confusion.
They'd been fine a second ago—why the sudden—
"Detected: ultra-high-energy entity," Schwi said, her cadence a notch faster.
"Target is approaching the settlent at very high speed. Threat level… confird: maximum."
Jibril's gaze locked on the distant skyline.
"Couronne, if you don't want these people to die, get them under cover!"
Her voice was low and grave, with a thread of tension even she didn't notice.
She paused, then added a line that made Couronne's heart seize.
"As for the one coming… I can't guarantee I'll take her down cleanly."
"If you don't want everyone here wiped out, move. Now!"
"!!!"
Couronne's face went chalk-white.
If even Jibril was saying that—what kind of monster was heading their way?!
She didn't dare waste a second.
She blew the ergency whistle hanging at her chest with all her strength.
The shrill note rang across the settlent!
"Enemy attack!"
"Everyone! Into the shelters—now!"
She shouted herself hoarse.
The once-busy, peaceful settlent plunged into chaos in an instant.
People dropped what they were doing in panic, scooped up the old and the young, and surged toward the shelters carved into the valley wall.
Children burst into terrified sobs, quickly smothered by adults' hands over their mouths.
Riku and several other young n hurled themselves into activating the simple defensive sigils Schwi had designed and set up.
They knew they were unlikely to help much, but it was all they could do.
And then—just as the evacuation had barely begun—
BOOM—!!!
A deafening blast crashed in from the outskirts!
The magical barrier Jibril herself had raised—enough to withstand the charge of a typical Dragonkind—shattered like brittle glass, scattering as a storm of sparkling motes!
Right after, an erald streak fell from the heavens like a teor and slamd into the open ground at the settlent gate.
KRA-THOOM—!!!
The earth heaved.
A tower of dust roared skyward!
The shockwave flattened a few of the crude houses nearby.
When the dust finally thinned, the newcor's form ca into view.
Jade-green hair, a single horn, heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one gold—an intricate halo, and those sacred wings woven from pure light…
The new Flügel's gaze—those eyes that seed to see through everything—brushed past the panicked humans and even past the battle-ready Schwi and Couronne, pinning instead, with flawless precision, on Jibril, whose expression had gone very grave.
A smile blood on her face—pure and angelic, yet laced with a teasing strangeness.
In that signature voice of hers, equal parts lazy and sing-song, she spoke softly:
"Found you, Jibril-chan~ ow~"
At the sound of that bone-deep familiar nickna and tone, Jibril's pupils tightened.
She drew a slow breath and, smiling faintly, spoke the other's na:
"Well now, it's been a while…"
"Azril… senpai."
Azril!
Chair of the Flügel Council—the Proxy of All-Wings.
The first Flügel created by the War God Artosh, an ancient being over twenty-six thousand years old.
As a special Flügel, she can call upon the power of the Phantasma Avant Heim.
Her strength is among the absolute pinnacle of the Flügel.
Azril always wears an angelic smile, but beneath it lies absolute ruthlessness and a fanatical love of combat.
She sees herself as the big sister of all Flügel, yet because she often goes off-script and acts like a ditz, her kin privately call her a "dummy" (not that anyone would dare say it to her face).
She also has an almost obsessive fondness for Jibril, loves nothing more than to squeeze Jibril like a body pillow, and peppers her speech with a distinctive "ow."
Her appearance ant serious trouble for Jibril—and extre danger.
Every nerve in Jibril's body drew tight.
It didn't surprise her that Azril had found this place.
User Comments
0 comments from readers