POV Nathaniel
As Lily leads towards the others, I notice Myrra start sneaking closer, her tall figure looming over the two unsuspecting disciples trailing behind us.
Well, it had to happen.
I hear Pallius shout at the catgirl to leave him alone while my minion starts kicking as Myrra squats in front of her and rubs her cheeks, calling her sothing silly like Minithaniel.
I think I'm starting to dislike the frequency with which my na is being twisted into random nicknas.
The first disciple I et is soone I know, a young lynthari boy. And damn, I think I’d probably recognize that bristly tail anywhere.
“At least act like you’re ashad,” Maya berates , and, in support, she puts her hand on her disciple's shoulder.
“I did nothing wrong,” I defend myself.
“You never do anything wrong. But, and sorry here, Enan, it was funny as fuck.”
“A little bit,” I agree, but don't ntion that it is saved as one of my precious mories. That expression the young lynthari made was glorious.
“Anyway, this is Enan. He is a bit shy, but he’s a hardworking little guy, right?” Maya ruffles his black hair and scratches his color matched ears.
The lynthari's bristly tail sways from side to side as he lets out a grumble of protest, his face flushing.
Maya lets go, “He doesn't talk that much, though, such a silly guy. Now tell , what's with the pajamas?”
“I lost a bet.”
Instead of asking again, Maya turns to Lily and raises her eyebrow in question.
“He did it for his disciple:”
I watch in real ti as my hard-earned notoriety is destroyed piece by piece. But at least the pajamas are comfy.
Curious and thinking it might improve the look and help regain so lost dignity, I reach through one of my Ley lines and summon my [Mana Crown] I had left floating in the living room
The instant giggle from my side tells it didn’t work. But it's too late to take it back, and sending it away now would look even lar, so I decide to keep it.
I lower myself, bringing my eyes level with Enan's, and look at him with what I like to think of as a friendly face, reaching out my hand toward him. “My na is Nathaniel, and that’s sothing I only share with a few people, but you are a disciple of one of those people, so I may as well tell you as well. But try to keep it to yourself, okay?”
His gray eyes dart from side to side, seeking out Maya before responding, and only when she nods does he look back at and nod as well. “I will. My na is Enan.”
He reaches his hand toward , and I shake it. His voice is very gentle and soft, yet it has a nice firmness to it when he introduces himself.
I stand up again and call out, “Myrra, bring my disciple, please.”
In the blink of an eye, she’s standing next to , holding my minion in her arms. It almost looks like she’s forcing poor Vega to listen to her heart, probably because Vega called it weak when Myrra started bullying her.
“Minion, this is Enan, and he is Maya’s disciple,” I say.
“Master, that's too many nas!” Vega complains without missing a beat, which makes Myrra giggle and snuggle her even more.
“Feral one, I’ll buy your disciple from you. She’s just way too cute. It's exactly the way I would have imagined you when you were young. A cute and devious little jerk.” Myrra offers.
“I won't be sold to soone with such a weak heart!” Vega calls.
“Minion, I fixed it for you: 'I won't be sold,'” I correct her.
“That's true. I won't be sold at all!”
“Suuuure,” Myrra says, ignoring the bursts of kinetic energy being thrown at her, either enduring them with her strong body or deflecting them with flashes of Aurora Glass, “And what is up with your clothes, feral one?”
“I'm going through a phase.”
“I see! How about I take Vega, Pallius, and Enan and make them talk things out? I’ll make sure no one gets hurt,” she offers.
“That's very suspicious for you to offer that, but let's first get Izzy's, Sophie's, and Min-Jae's disciples, and let Izzy take so pictures…”
“Okay then, I’ll be holding onto your disciple until then.”
“Master, help.”
“Sure, keep her until then,” I answer to Myrra.
Our weird group moves to the workshop, where we find Isabella and Sophie waiting with their disciples.
Izzy spots Vega and imdiately grows curious, joining in. “Hello, I'm Izzy, in case you forgot since the last tournant. It's nice to see you again, Vega. By the way, Nathaniel talked about you a lot.”
“He did?” Vega asks curiously, still trapped in Myrra's arms.
“Yes, he did. Would you eat with later? I want to talk to you.”
“E-eat with you?” Vega seems a bit confused, as if suspecting sothing bad might happen. “Should I do it, Master?”
“Why are you asking ? It's up to you. And, for your information, minion, I wouldn't bring you to people I thought would hurt you, got it?”
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Vega nods, and Izzy looks at with a big smile. As always, she tries to connect with to read my feelings, but I deflect her attempts. Even so, I know she can still sense them on a superficial level.
What an evil ability.
“This is Seneca, my disciple,” Izzy introduces her disciple.
Seneca, though she’s probably just around 10 years old, is still a bit taller than Izzy. I don't recognize her race, but as Izzy said before, Seneca has blue hair that reaches down to her shoulders. Well, it would. But instead of hanging down her back, her blue hair floats around her head in a movent reminiscent of a fla.
I feel no heat from them; they simply float without falling onto her face or blocking her view. Otherwise, Seneca is slim, her skin a warm, sun-baked shade of bronze. All of which is complented by her pale eyes, which shine a strikingly beautiful shade of blue.
Seneca puts her arms around Izzy from behind and looks at us with those piercing blue eyes, “Thanks for taking care of Izzy.”
Maya snorts, “Sotis I have a feeling it's Izzy who’s taking care of us.”
That makes Seneca hug Izzy even tighter. It's an unusual sight, especially since Izzy is so much stronger than Seneca, and given that they're close in age.
“Are we introducing our disciples again?” Sophie asks, stepping in from the side while pushing her disciple forward. “This is Deva.”
Her disciple is a thylarin with six arms, which brings a familiar question to mind.
I glance down as she uses one of them to tuck her black hair behind her ear, and this ti I actually decide to ask, “Why do so thylarin have six arms while about 95% of the others only have four?”
Deva doesn't even wait for Sophie to respond. Instead, she speaks for herself, confident and completely unfazed. “It probably has sothing to do with an ancient Genetic Lineage, rumored to have been inherited from a long-forgotten ancestor.”
“From before the system?”
“Possibly yes.”
“How did that ancestor travel between planets before the system?”
“That is sothing even our greatest minds and historians have yet to uncover. But it's an intriguing question. One of our Champion researchers has plans to visit other planets and seek out older beings for answers. eting a Ruler is likely impossible, but there are others who might know. The Magi, The Last Elf, or perhaps even The Warden of the Parallax Eyes would be among the few with that knowledge.”
“Oh, Kyralon? I wouldn't be surprised if he knew.”
For the first ti, Deva opens her orange eyes wide and takes a step towards . All six of her arms grab my shirt, and I almost expect her to shake .
“You know him?”
“Yeah, I t the guy. Velnar, locked away in a tower, all mysterious. Nice to talk to but also an asshole at the sa ti, you know the type.”
“H-how! You’re just a second or third year tutorial attendee.”
“Beyond quest.”
This ti, she does try to shake . And while my body isn't all that strong, there’s just no way I would be swayed by this kid, so it doesn't move at all. "There's no way the Warden of the Parallax Eyes would need sothing from you."
“Well, he did,” I say, seeing how starstruck she is, and deciding to tease her a bit further, “He even poured a drink and answered a few of my questions.”
Once again, she tries to shake . That pretentious control is completely gone, replaced by a childlike impatience. For a mont, she seems less like the composed figure she tries to be and more like an eager kid struggling to hold herself back.
“Do you realize that there are Absolutes willing to trade entire planets just to have one question answered by soone like The Warden of the Parallax Eyes!?”
“I also chose not to ask one of the questions I was allotted.”
And she attempts to shake again. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if it’s not so sort of special attack or sothing.
Before the poor thylarin can do anything else, Sophie grabs her from behind and pulls her away with a firm grip. Deva flails in protest, blubbering sothing about being completely insane, her six arms twitching like she’s trying to argue her case. anwhile, Sophie keeps nodding, looking like she agrees with everything her disciple has to say.
At that sa mont, my minion keeps shouting sothing at Myrra, telling her to let her go so she can punch that handsy blue halfwit.
Seneca giggles on the side, Enan watches in silence, and Pallius tells Lily to leave alone. He insists that soone like would never have a chance of eting the Warden of the Parallax Eyes and that I shouldn't be trusted with my lies.
I let Sophie deal with her disciple, and while my minion keeps shouting for Myrra to let her go, I join Lily, “Will you take care of Vega? Just make sure Myrra doesn't bully her too much. I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure, no problem,” Lily answers.
I stop in front of Pallius, whose dark blue hair and eyes montarily lighten with a mix of yellow as he stares at . “What does being a shadow an? Is that sothing like a bond?”
He shakes his head slightly. “On my planet, the position of ‘Shadow’ is a formal title granted by mbers of powerful families. It’s not a heavy chain like a bond; it’s more like a chosen follower. It ans you willingly walk by that person’s side, learning and growing with them. If both allow it, it can beco as strong as a bond, but at its core, it’s about following, not guarding.”
“So, it's not like a bodyguard?”
“No,” he replies. “It's a role of trust and choice: a follower, not soone who hides in the background or simply protects.”
“I see. Well, see you later.” With these words, I teleport away and then use Wraith Dance to move further. There, at the edge of the forest, I find a man waiting for who has recently made his presence known.
As always, Savant looks composed, judging by the way his green eyes watch the area. His now long black hair is tied at the back of his head and falling down. He doesn't seem like he even minds the waiting he had to do; he just patiently waited for .
I also had the opportunity to take patience as my subclass, but I don't think I would’ve liked it. While I understand his behavior, it constantly irks , and there are a lot of reasons behind that.
“What?” I ask.
“I ca to make you an offer.”
“I'm listening.”
“There are three things I need help with. It's fine if you decide to help with just one or more. For each, I'm willing to offer a trade, be it items, materials, knowledge, or sothing else.”
“I have a question first.”
“Do ask.”
“Don't you have a disciple?”
“I do not, I have rejected it.”
“I see. So what are these three things?”
“First, I need you to help with the Sword of Aeons. There’s sothing I’ve been wanting to do, and I'm currently incapable of doing it myself. Seeing the weapon at your waist, you or your group should be able to help .”
“Hmm, not gonna lie, I would’ve agreed even if all it got was the chance to look at the sword.”
“Still, as I said, I'm willing to pay. The second thing is this,” he lifts his right hand and shows it to . It looks normal, though maybe the shade of the skin is a bit different. “It's the hand of a lumoran Champion that I absorbed, but I failed to complete the process, and now I’m having trouble with it. What I need is for either you or your healer to help.”
“And third?”
"Third, I have learned by observing you and by using my skill to absorb kinetic energy. You seem to be the most proficient among Earth's tutorial participants, so while I plan to do things my own way, I want to gather more information from you." He says this without a mont of hesitation, hinting at his skill and capabilities while also throwing it in my face.
“That’s quite a shaless request. It will cost you.”
"I'm confident that I can offer you a fair trade."
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