Chapter 114 - The One-Legged Kraken

“Stupid owl.” Claire grumbled under her breath as she scanned her surroundings. Her eyes sharp, she carefully looked around the air for any dust particles, hints that would lead her to the monster’s lair. But try as she might, she was unable to find anything. The sand owl was nowhere to be seen. It had scattered its body to the wind and vanished the moment she put it on its back foot. She tried turning around and exposing her back, but even then, it showed no signs of returning.

Breathing an annoyed sigh, she neutralised the force projected from her tail and fell towards the citadel. Landing was a difficult, painful affair. Both her legs were broken, snapped in multiple places. Her tail was hardly any better off. It was covered in cuts and gashes; making contact with the ground came with a wince. She had to grit her teeth to stop herself from squealing. The damage was sourced almost entirely from the owl’s talons. Its sand magic was rarely used as anything beyond distraction, a means for it to direct her attention away from its body so it could gouge her with its claws and beat her with its wings. Turning into a lamia did nothing to mitigate the pain. The shattered bones in her midsection ground themselves into her flesh every time she slithered; it hurt less to put her weight on her broken hooves. Grimacing the whole way, Claire slinked over to the nearest building and leaned against one of its half-broken walls.

Like the frog and the eel, the owl had a number of annoying tricks up its sleeve. Its entire skillset revolved around the idea of mitigating damage. Every single one of her attacks was blocked by a wall of water-compacted sand or evaded with an unnatural aerial maneuver. On occasion, the monster would even disperse its body into a cloud of sand, only to reform a few seconds later, perfectly unharmed.

It took a few minutes’ worth of cat and mouse for her to realise that she could negate its defence by draining its mana, but the risk-averse barn pigeon retreated before she could make use of the revelation, an outcome even more frustrating than the tiresome battle itself.

“Next time, I’ll break its legs,” she mumbled under her breath as she propped herself up against the wall.

“I don’t think it actually has legs. Actually maybe it does… I’m not really sure.” Sylvia’s head popped out from above the half-collapsed roof. She stepped down from it a moment after, descending a staircase made of bubbles before finally jumping on top of Claire’s head.

The lyrkress winced at the impact. “Don’t do that.”

“Huh?” Sylvia blinked. “But I always jump on your head!”

“I mean not right now,” said Claire, through gritted teeth. “Not when my legs are broken.”

“Oh… right, sorry. Here, I’ll make it up to you.” She hummed a quick tune and wrapped them both in an aura of light.

The blueblood’s wounds rapidly began to heal. The process wasn’t anywhere near as quick as it was when she leveled up, but it was still impressive. She could see her bones mending. Her broken limbs snapped back into position as the holes in her flesh were filled. It took only a minute for all her wounds to vanish.

“Thanks.” Claire magically yoinked the furball off her head and gave her a squeeze. Her body passed straight through the fox’s protective bubble, but the rain running off of it was rejected.

“No problem!” chirped Sylvia. “Are you feeling better?”

“For the most part.”

There was a moment of silence.

Sylvia had expected the lyrkress to continue the conversation, but Claire wasn’t speaking. When the fox looked up, she found her part-pet part-owner with her jaws clenched and a hand on her forehead.

“Ummm… You don’t look better,” she said, with a confused blink. “That’s weird… My spell should’ve got everything. I boosted your vitality a lot.”

“I’m fine,” said Claire. “Nothing hurts. I’m just feeling… off.”

Sylvia tilted her head; it took a moment for the half-elf to put two and two together. “Oh, right! You used your divinity again!”

The lyrkress blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on! You don’t have to hide every little thing,” said the fox, with a groan. “I know you have it! I can sense it coming off you from a mile away.”

The lyrkress flicked her tongue as she deliberated a response. Sylvia almost seemed too sure of herself for it to be a bluff, but she knew better than to think that the fox was as poor a liar as she made herself out to be. She had already proven that she could hide the things that really mattered. She hadn’t divulged any of Alfred’s secrets during their discussions, and more notably, she had managed to keep her intent to kill hidden, until she finally chose to reveal it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the half-moose.

“Ughhhhh! You’re being so difficult.” Sylvia tapped her paws against her mount’s arms. “I’ve known you’ve had it for a while now! You got it in the middle of the night when you were playing with the sea cows, and there was too much of it for you to handle so most of it got poofed. And then you played around with it in the morning. You used it against the frog too, and that’s half the reason you were so out of it when I made you sleep.”

“Stalker.” Her tone was harsh and critical, but the hands running through the fox’s fur remained gentle.

“I’m not a stalker! It’s my job!” whined the canid. “I’m supposed to be responsible for keeping an eye on you.”

“Professional stalking is still stalking.”

Sylvia sighed. “There’s just no winning with you, is there?”

“There is. You just need to beat me at rhetoric.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’s gonna happen. You’re just going to find some weird loophole in something I say.”

“Exactly. Rhetoric.”

“That’s just you being mean.”

A bubble that looked exactly like Sylvia’s fairy form appeared right in front of Claire’s face. The magical projection puffed up its cheeks, stamped its feet, and aggressively tensed up its tail. Though chuckling with amusement, the lyrkress decided to get rid of it with an idle tail swipe before it could open its mouth to speak.

“Hey! That was rude,” complained the fox, as she leaned into another scratch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylvia gave Claire a bit of a pout, one that transformed into a miffed stare as she noticed the smirk on the other halfbreed’s face. “Hmph! Fine, be that way! See if I care.”

Another silent lull followed, but unlike the first, it was far from awkward. Claire continued to pet the less-than-displeased fox, and she continued to enjoy the massage. The quiet moment continued until a particularly powerful gust of wind blew by, driving half a tree into the already-crumbling wall and collapsing another one of its parts.

“We should probably head back inside,” said the fox.

“I like it better out here.”

While getting struck by the occasional lightning bolt was certainly painful and unpleasant, the lyrkress was unbothered by the wind and the rain. Unlike the fox, she was incapable of getting soaked. Not even her fluffy tail retained any of the moisture that flooded her surroundings, and the cool breeze was about as comforting as one experienced on a warm summer day. That, however, was not why she was unwilling to return. The problem was the temple. It was still filled with drunkards, and she didn’t feel like being even remotely nearby.

“Yeah, but staying out here is like asking to get hit by something.”

Claire shrugged as she got to her feet. “It’s just lightning.”

“And trees! And rocks, and all sorts of other things too.”

“Hardly a problem.” The lyrkress grumbled as she began trekking towards the cathedral.

The storm had lasted over a day without showing even the slightest hint of calming. Claire was no expert on meteorology, but even she could tell that an overcast sky with a chance of manatees did not a sunny day make. The winds were only growing more violent with time. The citadel’s lurching had gotten more extreme and she was starting to feel as if her feet were going to get swept right out from under her. She had to stop every time the shaking got too violent, just to stop the hurricane from spiriting her away.

“Maybe we should go back to the marsh,” said the blueblood.

“That sounds like a pretty good idea,” said Sylvia. “I like the rain and all, but there’s way too much of it here. I’m gonna get soaked the moment I get rid of my bubble.”

“Did he say how long it would take? For him to finish my weapons.”

“Ummmm… nope. And I don’t think we can go back and ask either because he’s totally out of it right now. I don’t think he’s getting up until tomorrow morning.”

Claire hissed. “What a waste of time.”

“Well, not really. We should probably go to bed anyway.”

Sylvia looked up at the sky as she spoke. The fractured moon was invisible with all the clouds in the way, but her tail senses were telling her that it was already past its peak.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Yeah, but it’s getting really late, and it’s not like there’s anything else to do. Not while it’s pouring out.”

“The rain isn’t going to stop me from killing things.” Claire lifted her right hand from Sylvia’s fluff and balled it into a fist. “And the eel wasn’t worth as much as I hoped.”

The accompanying party had turned the whole exercise into a test of patience, and hers had been pushed to the limit.

“Really? How many levels did it give you?”

“Eight. Mostly focused in my racial class.”

“Eight is pretty good!”

“It wasn’t worth a whole day. I would’ve gained much more from hunting mirewulves.”

“Well, that’s probably only because we walked around a bunch. It’d be much faster if you went through the walls from the start and rushed straight at it.”

Claire paused for a moment to consider the suggestion. She didn’t have a map to cross reference anymore, but not even relying on Shoulderhorse would provide a straight line to her final destination. She still had to work around the various chest rooms, but even then, she was confident she could make three or four kills a day. Unless she was dragging around deadweight, of course.

“Or if those three didn’t come with us.”

“Look on the bright side! At least you’re getting some weapons out of it. So it should be worth it, right?”

“We’ll see.” Claire shrugged. “Is the lord any different from any of the other monsters?”

“Of course it is! It’s a lord, which means it’s totally souped up and awesome. You should know that, you literally just fought it!”

“That’s not what I meant,” said the lyrkress, with a roll of the eyes. “Does it come back to life when we go back in?”

“Oh! Well um, not exactly, but also kinda?” Sylvia flicked her tail from left to right. “It doesn’t actually come back to life, but it’ll be replaced with another lord. The new lord is supposed to be the same type of monster, but it probably won’t do all the same things.”

“I see.”

Placing Sylvia back on top of her head, the lyrkress crossed her arms and closed her eyes. The lack of vision didn’t throw her off course. The distinct echoing of her hooves guided her along the stone-paved path as she sank deeper into her thoughts.

If the eel could be killed repeatedly, then all she needed to do was murder it until it stopped giving her experience. It seemed like a fairly effective plan, but even then, the lyrkress was unsure if she wanted to remain in Sky Lagoon. The giant, snake-shaped fish had been the only monster in Crabby Crags worth killing. None of the crabs’ deaths had aided her much in her growth.

“Why do they have to be so loud?” grumbling under her breath, the blueblood stopped right in front of the cathedral, a few steps away from its door. The drunks were roaring with such volume that she could hear them over the hurricane; its howling winds were unable to match their overbearing shouts and screams.

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” said Sylvia. “They’re having a good time!”

“At my expense,” mumbled the lyrkress.

“It’s not even that bad! You slept right through it earlier.”

With a shrug, the blueblood assumed her lamian form and pulled her cloak over her head. Her ears felt a little stuffy under the hood, so she modified the garment and gave it a set of earholes before rapping her knuckles against the door. No voices came from the other side, but the entrance was opened immediately. The guard, a grumpy-looking heavyset dwarf, gave her a quick glance before acknowledging her with a grunt and pointing his chin towards the interior.

Thanking him with a nod, she walked through the makeshift tavern and made for the attic. The bar began to change as she moved; a wave of silence swept through it like a storm, with the loudmouthed drunks quieting each other down. Shouts turned to whispers and screams turned to murmurs as fingers were pointed in her direction. Try as they might, they were unable to keep their discussions under wraps. Before her ears, the silenced voices remained clear as day.

“You think that might be who Carter saw?”

“It ain’t much of a match. That one’s got no legs.”

“Yeah, but she’s got the ears, the glow, and the colour too.”

She could feel her blood run cold as her face nearly paled. She knew she was the type to attract attention, but not all the attention in the world. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Uhmmm… Claire? What’s going on?” whispered Sylvia.

“I don’t know. Be quiet.”

Though a quick scan only told her so much, she concluded that the stares were more curious and amazed than they were malicious. They seemed to hold great interest in her for reasons she could only guess.

“He said she had legs.”

“Ask her if she knows him.”

“Hell no, you ask. I ain’t even one of you crazy ear zealots.”

All the eyes in the room were focused on the organs protruding from her hood. For once, they were in plain sight; she had forgotten Beckard’s advice.

Hissing internally, she racked her brain for a solution. Her first instinct was to tuck her ears back inside her hood and patch the holes, but it was far too late for that. She had already grabbed a whole cathedral’s worth of attention, and proving that she had something to hide would only serve to further their interest.

“Where the hell is Carter? Get his ass over here and have him confirm.”

“Over here! Bastard’s passed out!” An older elven man slapped the centaur on the back, but he showed no signs of stirring.

“Well wake him!”

Speaking up would be even worse. She didn’t know why they were so focused on her, but she doubted that it was anything good. She needed to leave, as quickly as possible. Knowing that was what guided her response; the lyrkress chose to ignore the masses and continue her advance. She feigned a complete lack of concern and slithered down the aisle at a leisurely, dignified pace, as if it were only natural for their eyes to follow her every step. Just as she did when the other ladies had tried to spread rumours about her in her presence.

“What the heck was that?” Sylvia began to speak as soon as Claire made it past a door. “Everyone was staring at you like you were some sort of weirdo! Did you do something again?”

“I didn’t,” replied the larger halfbreed. “Beckard mentioned some rumours. It probably has to do with them.”

“Hmmmm…” Sylvia brought a paw to her chin. “Oh well, it doesn’t look like any of them are following us, so there’s that at least, right?”

“I’ll have to change my outfit tomorrow,” muttered the snake moose, “and I’ll need to sneak out. Maybe through one of the windows.”

After casting a gaze over her shoulder, she pulled her ears back into her cloak and ascended the stairs. There were still a number of issues at hand. Her supposed solution had failed to address the problem, let alone solve it, but at the very least, she was confident that she had minimized the damage dealt. She needed to think of a way around her recognition, but she simply wasn’t in the mood to sit down and ponder. The task would have to wait for another day.

___

Claire

Health: 5490/5490

Mana: 7026/11735

Divinity: 4/5

Health Regen:1785/hour (3570/hour)

Mana Regen: 9369/hour

Divinity Regen: 5/hour

Ability Scores - 369 Points Available

- Agility: 589

- Dexterity: 555

- Spirit: 471

- Strength: 872

- Vitality: 595

- Wisdom: 1041

Racial Class: Frostblight Lyrkress - Level 87.10

- Frostblight Lyrkrian Martial Arts - Level 21.44

- Frostblight Lyrkrian Shapeshifting - Level 17.40

- Paralyzing Gaze - Level 13.12

- Thermodynamic Regulation - Level 10.20

- True Ice Manipulation - Level 15.92

Primary Class: Llystletein Bloodthief - Level 85.65

- Assassinate - Level 18.39

- Bloodthief - Level 20.91

- Charm Catgirl - Level 1.00

- Cloak and Dagger - Level 10.17

- Envenom - Level 19.68

- Manathief - Level 17.86

- Phantom Blade - Level 19.39

Secondary Class: Llystletein Vector Mage - Level 83.40

- Basic Force Resistance - Level 12.67

- Catgirl Detector V. 0.34 - Level 11.02

- Detect Force Magic - Level 19.65

- Spirit Sorcery - Level 29.21

- Vector Manipulation - Level 32.45

Unclassed Skills

- Artifact Manipulation - Level 4.00

- Axe Mastery - Level 11.13

- Club Mastery - Level 17.50

- Cooking - Level 1.03

- Dagger Mastery - Level 14.76

- Dancing - Level 8.27

- Digging - Level 13.76

- English - Level 25

- Greatsword Mastery - Level 10.91

- Llystletein Authority - Level 8.13

- Makeshift Weapon Mastery - Level 24.62

- Marish - Level 19.09

- Sewing - Level 1.43

- Sneaking - Level 18.73

- Spear Mastery - Level 10.65

- Sword Mastery - Level 10.33

- Throwing - Level 11.01

- Whip Mastery - Level 1.76