Chapter 125 - Two Blades and a Tail VI

Claire grit her teeth and flicked her tail from side to side as she slithered into the spiralling hall that marked the entrance to Brightmoss Maze. Adorning her path was a mess of brutalised corpses, monsters she had slain not for experience, but rather to fulfill the urge to hit something with an unreasonable amount of force; the entire sequence of events that had culminated in a conversation with her pet’s father left her feeling irritated enough to waste her own time, which in turn only further fueled her annoyance.

That was why she proceeded by looking for the nearest veaber-made hole and filling it with ice. Expending a reckless amount of magic, she flooded the walls with as much of the freezing cold substance as she could and did her utmost to lure out and exterminate every veaber in the area.

Sylvia cast her the occasional concerned gaze, but otherwise remained silent. She obviously wanted to say something, as could be easily determined from how often she opened her mouth, but she struggled to find the right words. They continued to elude her, even as the pair reached the bottom of the ramp. Claire had almost snapped at her and told her to spit it out, but stopped short of entertaining the impulse. She knew it was unreasonable, just like the rest of her behaviour.

She couldn’t get herself to relax, at least not without determining the source of her sour mood. At first, she assumed that it was Mittens, but killing his kind brought no relief. The ravens seemed like another set of obvious suspects, but she didn’t think it was them either. At worst, they were a mild annoyance, a small factor in the grand scheme that was her overflowing vexation. And neither was it the elf. Admittedly, she did feel like punching him, but the impulse wasn't anywhere nearly as strong as the need to purge the lost library of all its veabers. It was almost like she was annoyed just because she was annoyed.

Seeing the familiar, mossy caves only served to deepen her frustration. The rogue couldn’t help but smash her fist into a wall as she recalled her arrival, and with it, the life of luxury she previously led.

She wanted it back.

She didn’t want to have to fight for her continued survival. She just wanted to cozy up next to a fireplace, lean back into her mother’s arms, close her eyes, and open them the next morning to find that she had somehow wound up in her bed.

“Claire?”

“I’m fine.”

Flicking her tongue against the back of her teeth, Claire suppressed the urge to shout, pulled the fox into her arms, and squeezed her tight. Sylvia reacted with a bit of a start, but soon leaned back and relaxed. Slowly, Claire’s grip loosened and her breathing slowed as she ran her hands through the tiny critter’s warm, fuzzy coat.

“Sorry.” The blueblood set her captive back down. “I’m better now.”

“No problem!” chirped the fox. “Mom has weird mood swings like that too.”

“I don’t have mood swings,” said Claire.

“Right…” Sylvia averted her gaze for reasons that neither party could explain. “So… uhhmmm… want me to take you straight to the Green Belt? Or do you just wanna explore?”

“Let’s just go,” said Claire. “I want to kill its lord. As many times as I can.”

“Okay, then let’s go!” Her tail swaying left to right, the half-elf stretched her back and began humming an energetic tune.

“Sylvia.”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks. For calming me down.”

“I’m not really sure what I did, but you’re very welcome!”

With a happy bark, she put her best foot forward and led the way.

___

The Green Belt was located far away from the equitaur’s chamber. And unlike most of the other instanced areas, it featured an entrance that was clearly denoted. The rift, a distinctive tear in space with the other side on full display, was located atop a raised platform. It almost looked like an altar, but with none of the symbols typically seen in a place of worship.

Furthering the impression were the mossy rocks by the gate. Each was adorned with a number of lit candles, arranged seemingly at random. It took an extended moment of observation for her to realise that they were not placed, but grown. Their bases were extruding from the stones; those that burned down and found themselves extinguished would quickly regenerate and light once more; the magical flames were merely extensions of the rocks that housed them. 

Rather than artifacts, the candle-growing entities were more akin to mutant golems. They would even shy away from her touch, whenever she got too close. Learning that they were monsters, of course, led the lyrkress to pursue the most natural conclusion, but to no avail. The piece of ice she fired was rejected by a thin barrier.

“What the heck, Claire! You’re not supposed to kill them! Look at how cute they are!” Half panicked, Sylvia ran between the hunter and her prey, stood up on her hind legs, and spread her arms wide. “Stop attacking everything you see! You don’t even get anything out of it!”

“Experience.”

“It’s like level five! You’d get just as much from going out on a run!”

“First kill bonus.”

“It’d be the tiniest first kill bonus you’d ever seen. You’d only get one point!”

“Still worth it.”

Claire extended a hand towards one of the candle-covered rocks, but a pair of jaws intercepted her arm before it could reach. The fangs didn’t dig into her flesh, but came fairly close. The vixen had used just enough force to avoid breaking her skin.

“No it isn’t!” shouted the rabid dog.

“I can’t understand you if you talk with your mouth full.”

“Mmmphhhrh!”

Sylvia tried to release her jaw, but the lyrkress’ unbitten hand kept her locked in place. She had magically grabbed the top half of the fox’s mouth with her index finger and the bottom with her thumb. Pinching the two together kept her companion from relaying her thoughts.

The undesired oath of silence was enforced for the better part of five minutes. Only after poking a golem with her tail, wandering through the portal, and watching the scenery warp did the lyrkress finally let go.

“You’re so mean…” said the fox, as soon as she was released.

“I didn’t kill any of them.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Sylvia stamped the ground with her paws. “You never let me finish talking! Ever!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Because you talk too much.”

“So? I like talking.”

“I know.” Claire smiled and patted the pet on the head. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“If you know, then let me talk!”

“No.”

With her craving for warmth and fuzziness sated, the lykress got back to her feet and scanned her surroundings. She had been able to see them already through the portal, but the perspective had only given her a glimpse at the otherwise vast expanse located on the other side.

Technically, she was still in a cave system of sorts; there were walls on all sides and a large ceiling overhead, only with none of the lichen that plagued the appropriately named Brightmoss Maze. The rocky tunnels, which measured at over ten times their previous diameter, were almost bare, save for all the mushrooms growing on just about every surface. Like the lightcrowns used by the foxes, they glowed, but much more brightly and aggressively.

Every colour of the rainbow was present and accounted for. Blues, reds, yellows, greens, and purples were put to use in tandem, as were all the hues spawned from their various combinations. The materials of their making were inconsistent. While some mushrooms possessed fungal flesh, others were crafted from various inanimate materials, with porcelain, marble, and obsidian the most abundant by far. There were even some specimens that were only part organic, their bodies made from a mix of flesh and stone. Cancerous growths grew from each of the crystalline toadstools. Larger toadstools had smaller ones sprouting from them, and those smaller individuals went on to have even tinier parasites. It was a never ending cycle with no clear rhyme or reason. The only pattern she was able to deduce was that no two fungi were the same.

The area’s monsters, of which there were many, wandered the cave in plain sight. Wart-covered bipedal pigs, out-of-place objects, and giant floating eyes were in such abundance that it was difficult to turn her head any more than a few degrees without spotting another dense group. It was effectively the same sight she saw outside the instance, with the key difference being the creatures’ power levels. While those that wandered Brightmoss Maze were typically under level fifty, most of the individuals patrolling the instance were clearly ascended.

The hellhogs wore thick suits of bone armour and the eggeyes were four-winged. The mimics’ relative strength was more difficult to pick out at a glance, as they simply looked as would giant everyday objects, but the evidence was clear. The other ascended species regarded them with caution and shied away from where they lurked.

Unlike the monsters that lay outside, those in the Green Belt refrained from a life of unending conflict. They’d growl and chirp at each other, but they never quite allowed their squabbles to escalate to violence. At least one of the aggressors would always retreat, with the larger individual often yielding to its smaller counterpart.

“How… quaint,” said Claire.

The opinion was met with silence. When she looked towards the fox, she found Sylvia standing on her hind legs with her arms crossed and her cheeks puffed up into a pout. The critter turned to face the opposite direction as soon as their eyes met, and even humphed for emphasis.

Seeing the furball’s stubborn display sparked the urge to pick her up and tickle her sideways, but her attempt to magically grab the half-elf ended in failure. The creature refused to budge; the force she crafted was repelled, redirected and destroyed by an unseen power. Approaching the problem physically yielded a similar set of results. Her fingers passed straight through the fox’s body, as they would a ghost’s.

“Okay, fine.” Claire sighed. “I’m sorry. You can talk.”

“Hmph!” huffed the fox. Her arms remained crossed and her face turned away.

“I’ll even get you some fish. Later.”

Again, she was shrugged off.

“And a monopus steak.”

The third compromise came with an interested glance, but Sylvia remained silent. She even huffed again and shook her head, as if indignant to even receive the offer. It was clear that she was just trying to get as much as she could, and though the lyrkress would benefit greatly from her directions, she had no intention of playing along. If the fox could be stubborn, then so too could her master.

“Fine. Then you don’t get anything.”

Statement made, Claire turned away from the confused hat and began walking down the hall. She had half expected the canid to raise her voice and protest the moment she threatened to leave, but Sylvia didn’t give in. The fox simply humphed again and reluctantly followed after her, her face still adorned with the same vexed pout.

Even without her guide, the lykress was unconcerned. The cave system wasn’t very complex. The first turn was a long ways away, and she doubted that there were many others, but it was difficult to say for sure. Her ears could only tell her so much, and the glowing mushrooms meddled with her vision. The fluorescent fungi were so bright that she found it difficult to stare off into the distance, or at any other given part of the environment for that matter. She had to close her eyes periodically, just to let them rest.

Eyes open or not, walking through the monster-infested zone meant that conflict was on the menu; it didn’t take long for her to find herself in a staring contest with a piece of unsanitary pork. The monster had run right in front of her, just to block the way and growl.

Unlike many of the others roaming the green belt, the beast was not ascended. It was naked, a plain old sack of meat almost identical to the first monster she had slain following her arrival. The hellhog was the perfect point of comparison she needed. She had already proven her growth by stomping frogpoles, frying ravens, and freezing veabers. She knew that she had earned her place when the lord of the chasm went from a challenge to a pushover. But something about the thought of killing another hellhog struck differently.

She was the first to move.

But not the first to land a hit.

A fuzzy paw was bashed into the monster’s face before her dagger-whip could reach it. The punch came with a sickening crack, the sound of the hog’s neck being twisted far out of place. Its head facing the wrong way, the bipedal beast collapsed where it stood and fell over. Dead. Even though it was her prey.

After taking a moment to make eye contact, Sylvia raised her snout high, snorted, and faced the other direction. A similar set of actions was repeated each time the lyrkress encountered another foe. Her pet wordlessly stepped in and murdered her targets right as she made her move. Though it was certainly a rather convenient way to save energy, Claire found herself too annoyed to take advantage of the boon.

Seven stolen kills later, she decided that enough was enough. She sheathed her weapons, sat down, and rested her chin in her hands. There was no experience or first kill bonuses to be had, if the less-than-energetic furball kept throwing a tantrum.

“I give up,” Claire said. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop being such a meanie!” shouted Sylvia.

“I’m not being mean.”

“Yes you are! I spent all that time worrying about you because you were in a bad mood. I didn’t even talk to you because I didn’t know what to say to make you feel better. I tried super hard to care about how you felt, but you never care about how I feel ever! You didn’t let me talk, just because I told you not to kill something!”

“It was entertaining.”

“Maybe for you!” huffed the fox. “I just wanted to have a conversation!” She stamped her paws against the ground with enough force to leave prints in the stone. “And then, and then! You made it even worse by deciding to ignore me right when I was finally going to start talking to you again!”

“Because you wanted to be greedy.”

“It’s only fair! You were being really mean!”

“You’re just being unreasonable,” said Claire.

“No I’m not!” Sylvia’s tail shot straight up. “You’re just not appreciating me enough!”

“I pet you all the time.”

The lyrkress tried reaching for the furball again, but her touch was rejected. Only this time, it was physical. The fox actively brushed her hands away and stepped back.

“You only pet me because you want to!”

“And you like it when I scratch your ears.”

“But it’s not like I ever asked you to scratch them… I can scratch them myself.” She raised her paws to the sides of her head to demonstrate. “It doesn’t count if the nice thing you’re doing is something that you’re only doing for yourself! It just makes it feel like you never appreciate me and that you only hang out with me because it’s convenient and I help you with stuff.”

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but grit her teeth before the words left her lips. A part of her had wanted to refute the claim and offer to do something for the fox, but a flare of annoyance pulsed through her system as she considered its implications. Sylvia had it completely backwards. She was the one that was failing to sympathize and understand.

“That’s not why,” said the rogue, quietly.

“Then why do you never do anything but bully me!? You never care what I have to say, and you always boil everything down to the facts! You don’t even try to dress your words up to make me feel better…”

“I don’t. Bu—”

“No buts! It hurts my feelings and you don’t even care!”

“Listen to m—”

“No!” shouted Sylvia, as she stamped the ground again. There was an earthquake; at least seventy different hogs were caught in the rumbling and slain by falling debris. “You listen to me! And don’t roll your eyes! I know you’re about to!”

Claire nearly stopped the motion halfway through, but another rage-filled flare prompted her to follow it through. “This is ridiculous.” She got to her feet and pulled her cloak back over her head. “I’m not going to listen to you if you don’t listen to me.”

“Because you’re just going to keep making excuses and refuse to admit that you’re just bad at being nice!”

“Shut up,” gritting her teeth, she tried to magically silence the fox, but again, her forces were rejected.

“See! The moment something stops going your way, you just get mean and grumpy!”

“I said, shut up!”

Claire shrugged off the complaint with a shout and turned away. Without another word, she sealed her ears with ice, pulled her hood over her eyes, and dove into a crowd of monsters.