My thoughts drifted back to the pieces of information I’ve read while scrolling through the website.
One thing beca clear: the empire’s carvers weren’t just bad at squeezing power out of beginner energy stones.
No, it was more a matter of mindset.
To them, low-grade energy stones, especially the mixed ones with uneven coloration, were classified as "practice materials"—nothing more than stepping stones to the real deal. They didn’t bother experinting with the colorful, mixed stones like I did.
I scrolled through a guild forum thread where a master carver had written, ’A true carver proves their worth through high-grade energy stones. Only there can one demonstrate mastery.’
I stared at that line for a long ti. They simply didn’t care to. ’Why refine sothing the guild wouldn’t even count?’
That’s why the top carvers chased after high-grade stones because the empire used those as the ultimate asure of skill. Your worth as a carver was tied to how well you could handle those precious gems.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.
’Ridiculous.’
To , stones weren’t about rank or status. They were simply either right or wrong for the job. Beginner, advanced—those labels didn’t an a thing.
So stones harmonized better with certain beasts. So required more structural correction. So demanded delicate lattice adjustnts. Others needed bold, decisive carving.
But none of them were beneath effort.
None of them deserved half-hearted craftsmanship.
Every stone I touched—every single one—was carved with the sa intent, the sa focus, and the sa obsessive refusal to let it remain average.
I picked up one of the stones from my table—a modest piece, faintly marbled with streaks of smoky violet and pale gold.
Energy stones weren’t just tools. They were stabilizers against Hysteria.
’Why should they all look sterile and uniform?’
’Why shouldn’t they glow with personality?’
’Why shouldn’t a beast wear sothing that reflected their nature instead of a bland, single-colored stone?’
I ran my thumb along the surface of the stone, feeling the subtle ridges where mineral layers t.
Honestly, the more colorful the energy stone, the more alive it seed to .
I was lost in my thoughts when a knock snapped back to reality.
"I’m coming in, My Lady."
"Nyang."
Translation: Okay.
The door opened with its usual soft creak, and I turned my head just in ti to see Agatha step inside.
"My Lady, it’s already ti for afternoon tea. What do you—"
She froze, her gaze slowly sweeping across the room.
The table was covered in stone dust. Tiny shards glittered on the floor, and half-carved stones lay scattered everywhere.
Agatha blinked. "Oh my..." she breathed. "I didn’t know you were a carver, My Lady..."
Why does it feel like she’s actually saying, ’What are you up to again...?’
I gave her my brightest, most innocent, absolutely-not-plotting-anything toothy grin.
She did not look convinced.
"S-Stone," I said quickly, trying to change the topic.
"...My energy stone?" she asked carefully.
I nodded.
Agatha obediently reached into her pocket and pulled out her energy stone.
And there it was.
That thing.
That tragic, uneven, poorly carved lump of wasted potential.
I had been tolerating its existence for far too long, even if it’s just for a day.
Agatha handed it to , clearly expecting refinent, polishing, or adjustnt.
Instead, I turned and marched toward the balcony.
"My Lady...?"
I opened the balcony doors. I breathed in the pleasant afternoon breeze drifted in.
’Ahhh... It’s a beautiful day to eliminate an eyesore.’
Without hesitation, I wound up—
—and threw that ugly abomination as far as my paws could manage.
It sailed through the air in a glittering arc of poor craftsmanship.
Gone.
Finally.
I finally got rid of that ugly thing!
Behind , I heard a small, strangled sound.
"M-My Lady!" Agatha gasped. "W-What are you doing?!"
I turned back to her calmly.
She was pale.
Her hands were trembling as she rushed to the balcony railing, staring into the distance as if she could will the stone back with sheer panic.
"My energy stone—!"
I hopped up beside her and peered down.
It had landed sowhere in the estate gardens.
Probably in a bush.
Maybe in the fountain.
Ideally shattered against sothing.
I nodded approvingly. "Nyang."
Translation: It offended .
Agatha whipped around, eyes wide in horror. "That was my only energy stone! Without it, I can’t control my Hysteria flaring up!"
Yes.
And it was ugly.
Unforgivably ugly.
I tilted my head, then tapped my chest proudly. "Stone," I declared.
"M-My Lady?" Agatha asked, her voice wobbling sowhere between confusion and concern for my ntal stability.
I flicked my tail and gestured dramatically for her to follow .
She obeyed—hesitantly.
I leapt back onto the table in one smooth motion, nearly knocking over three carving tools and a suspiciously unstable pile of stone dust. With great ceremony (and absolutely no lingering guilt about the one I threw away rcilessly), I nudged the newly carved energy stone toward her.
It caught the afternoon light.
The surface was smooth, the resonance lines clean and deliberate. Soft gradients of color swirled beneath the polished exterior—gentle blues braided with pale gold and faint silver streaks that shimred when the light hit just right.
Agatha stared at it.
Then at .
Then back at it.
"Y-You’re giving this to ?" she asked carefully, as if I might suddenly say just kidding and eat it instead.
I nodded, watching her reaction.
She stepped closer, hands hovering over the stone but not quite touching it. "But... My Lady... this is far more refined than the one I had—"
Yes, yes. I know. I am talented.
Take it.
I pushed it another inch toward her.
She finally picked it up.
The mont her fingers made contact, the stone gave a faint pulse.
I didn’t just choose any random stone. I chose because it was her.
The soft blue running through the core?
The exact shade of her feathers when she partially transford.
The faint gold threading between the currents?
The sa warm hue that glinted in her eyes when she activated her beast form.
Even the silver undertone—barely visible unless you tilted it just right—mirrored the subtle sheen along the edges of her wings.
Agatha stared down at it, and I watched realization dawn slowly across her face. "My Lady..." she whispered. "This color... It matches ."
Of course it matches you.
Did you think I just grabbed a stone and hoped for the best?
When I’d selected the mixed-color energy stone earlier, I’d noticed the layered pignts imdiately. Most carvers would have dismissed it as uneven—too much color variation, too unpredictable.
But I had seen the potential.
"Anyways," I muttered—though it ca out as a very dignified, "Nyang."
I hopped off the table and padded toward her, circling once then I stopped and pointed directly at her sandal. "F-Feet."
Agatha blinked. "My... feet?"
I nodded firmly.
She hesitated, probably wondering if I had recently developed a foot fetish, but she complied. Carefully, she slipped off her sandal and lifted her foot slightly.
We both stared.
Human.
Perfectly human.
No talons, no faint feathering at the ankles, and certainly no awkward, half-shifted claws threatening to puncture footwear at inconvenient monts.
Just normal toes.
Five of them.
Beautiful.
I felt an indescribable wave of relief wash over .
Success.
Agatha wiggled her toes experintally. "My... My Lady..."
She shifted her weight onto the other foot. Then the first again. Then she stood fully, barefoot, on the cool floor.
"No distortion," she whispered.
She lifted her gaze to , eyes wide. "M-My headaches... and even my... bird feet... are gone..."
Her fingers tightened over the energy stone tucked against her chest. "It’s all thanks to you, My Lady."
Before I could react, she suddenly dropped to her knees and bowed deeply.
I froze.
"I’ll dedicate the rest of my life serving you, My Lady."
...Oh no.
This was not the intended side effect. I only ant to fix the bird feet and yet she was pledging her loyalty to .
I stared at the top of her bowed head, trying to process the situation.
Well...
That’s unexpected.
But also—
Strategically beneficial.
Given my current circumstances—small body, limited authority, and no money—having one loyal person wouldn’t hurt right?
Still, I cleared my throat—"Nyang"—attempting to sound appropriately composed instead of mildly stunned.
She lifted her head slightly, eyes shining with fierce determination.
Agatha rose to her feet, cradling the energy stone like a sacred relic. She slid it carefully into a secure inner pocket, as if afraid the wind itself might try to steal it.
"I’ll prepare tea and refreshnts first before I clean up the ss," her gaze flicked briefly toward the battlefield that used to be my workspace.
She slipped her sandal back on and exited the room with newfound lightness in her step.
The door closed softly behind her as I padded toward the balcony and nudged it open, letting the afternoon breeze brush against my fur.
I leapt onto the balcony railing and settled down, tail curling neatly around my paws.
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