The fire crackled softly, bathing the camp in a golden light that contrasted with the deep shadows beyond. The girls were huddled near the fire, their attention completely captivated by the shimring creams and gels Mikhailis had concocted. Lira's typically composed deanor gave way to a rare smile as she dabbed a tiny amount of gel onto her hand, watching it absorb instantly, leaving her skin smooth and glowing. Estella's excitent was unrestrained; she leaned forward to examine the product on Lira's hand, her curiosity palpable.
"This is incredible," Estella said, practically bouncing in her seat. Her eyes sparkled with genuine excitent as she turned her hands over, marveling at how smooth and luminous her skin looked. "I've never seen anything like this! You could sell it for a fortune!"
"Or keep it for myself," Lira quipped, her voice laced with rare playfulness. The elegant maid dabbed another bit of gel onto her wrist, watching as it absorbed instantly, leaving a faint shimr. "Imagine the envy of every noblewoman at court. They'd kill to know my secret."
"You're forgetting the part where this cos from monster ichor," Cerys interjected dryly, though her gaze lingered on the shimring jar. Seated on a nearby rock, she crossed her arms in a defensive posture, trying to mask the flicker of interest in her erald eyes.
Her stoicism cracked for a mont when Estella, grinning mischievously, held up the cream toward her. "Co on, Cerys, give it a try. Even Lone Wolves need to pamper themselves sotis."
"I don't need—" Cerys began, only to stop short as Estella grabbed her hand and sared a dab of cream on her knuckles. The faint sheen caught the firelight, and for a mont, Cerys simply stared, her expression unreadable.
"See?" Estella said, practically glowing with pride. "It doesn't bite."
"Neither do I," Cerys muttered, though her tone was softer. She shifted uncomfortably but made no move to wipe it off.
Even Vyrelda, who had dismissed the entire exercise as frivolous when it began, found her resolve weakening. She stared at her own reflection in the polished surface of her blade, turning it slightly to catch the glow from the fire. The faint shine of the gel on her cheek was subtle yet undeniable. Her usual scowl softened as she muttered under her breath, "Ridiculous."
"Did you say sothing, Vyrelda?" Estella teased, her voice sing-song. "I think soone's falling for Mikhailis' genius after all."
"Absolutely not," Vyrelda snapped, but her hand brushed against her cheek as though to confirm the product was still there.
Mikhailis sat slightly apart from the group, his posture relaxed as he leaned back on his elbows. The campfire's golden light danced across his glasses, concealing the glimr of amusent in his eyes. He let out a soft sigh, glancing up at the star-speckled sky. The girls' banter swirled around him, a light and pleasant lody against the backdrop of their harsh surroundings.
They're so caught up in this, he thought, his lips curving into an amused smirk. Who knew a little alchemy and monster ichor could turn into a beauty trend?
His gaze lingered on each of them in turn. Estella was practically bouncing in her seat, her excitent contagious as she continued to test the creams and gels. Lira, ever composed, was a picture of understated satisfaction as she thodically applied the gel to her hands. Cerys, despite her initial resistance, seed lost in thought as she studied the faint shimr on her skin. Even Vyrelda, for all her grumbling, had been drawn in.
It was a rare mont of levity, a brief escape from the weight of their journey. For that alone, Mikhailis felt an odd sense of pride.
Maybe I'm onto sothing here, he mused, his thoughts wandering. If sothing as simple as this can brighten their mood, imagine what it could do on a larger scale. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire
His mind wandered, imagining the possibilities of taking this accidental innovation further. Affordable soaps, shampoos, and lotions weren't just luxuries here—they were rarities, treasures reserved for the elite. What if he could change that? Mass production could revolutionize hygiene, elevate the quality of life for commoners, and even disrupt the rigid social hierarchies of this world. His connection with Estella, a skilled rchant, suddenly seed more fortuitous than ever.
But it's not that simple, he mused, tapping a finger against his knee. Sothing like this could draw all the wrong kinds of attention. Powerful people don't take kindly to their monopoly being threatened.
The weight of that realization settled in his chest, and for a mont, he let his mind entertain the risks. His thoughts, however, were cut short by a familiar voice in his ear.
Daydreaming, he admitted to himself with a wry smile. Aloud, he muttered, "Sorry, sorry. Daydreaming. What's up?"
Mikhailis adjusted his glasses, the faint glint of data streams lighting up his lenses like ghostly fireflies. With a practiced nonchalance, he shifted his posture, propping his chin on his hand and feigning a drowsy slump. To the girls, he looked like a man retreating into a light nap, but behind the tinted veil of his glasses, a whole other world ca into sharp focus.
Through the complex, multifaceted vision of his chira ants, the ruined village and its desolate surroundings unfolded like a grim tapestry. Their advanced sight captured every detail—the broken cobblestones veined with moss, the skeletal remains of structures looming like forgotten sentinels, and the faint shimr of mist that clung to the ground like a shroud. The faint sound of the girls' laughter behind him was a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the village.
The chira ant soldiers moved with a precision that bordered on eerie. Their chitinous bodies blended seamlessly into the shadows, their antennae twitching as they scanned their surroundings. The Scurabons, a hybrid of formidable durability and calculated stealth, took the lead. Their movents were almost silent, their powerful legs leaving only the faintest impressions in the soft soil. Together, the units executed their sweep with military efficiency, a perfect blend of instinct and Rodion's calculated directives.
They're thorough, Mikhailis noted, watching as the ants examined tracks leading into the dense forest. Faint traces of alchemical residue shimred under the ants' enhanced vision, marking a trail that spoke of recent activity. Nearby, remnants of shattered ward stones hinted at deliberate sabotage.
The ants paused near a jagged break in the village's periter, their attention zeroing in on faint tracks leading into the dense forest. Enhanced by their unique vision, the tracks glowed faintly, the alchemical residue left behind shimring like ghostly breadcrumbs.
Rodion's voice cut through his observations, sharp and precise.
Mikhailis' lips twitched into a faint grin. "Technomancy," he murmured under his breath. "Figures."
The feed shifted seamlessly, zooming in on the shattered remnants of a ward stone. The intricate etchings on its surface were marred by scorch marks, their jagged edges suggesting a deliberate act of sabotage. Mikhailis' brow furrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his feigned sleep blending into genuine focus.
Not scavengers, he noted grimly. This was deliberate. They know what they're doing.
The chira ants' perspective shifted again, revealing movent at the forest's edge. A faint glimr caught the light—cloaked figures erging cautiously from the shadows. Their movents were deliberate, almost rehearsed, as they navigated the area. Mikhailis' heart quickened, his thoughts racing to connect the dots.
Who are you?
He issued a silent command through Rodion, his voice low enough to go unnoticed by the girls.
"Rodion, enhance the audio feed."
A faint static preceded the sound of hushed voices filtering through the feed. The clarity grew with each passing second, revealing a conversation laced with urgency and secrecy.
"…Phase Two begins soon."
"The Overseer will want results by the next cycle."
"Ensure no traces are left behind."
Mikhailis' eyes narrowed, his mind working quickly to piece together the fragnts of information. The words painted a picture of an operation far more sophisticated than he'd anticipated.
Phase Two? Overseer? Sounds like a chain of command. Whoever these people are, they're organized—and ambitious.
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