Strange Flowerpot (5)
What should he give her to help? This was no question he could take lightly. He had no idea what this otherworldly elf liked or disliked, and his meddling might even backfire. He'd assumed the ant battles were pure danger for her, but hadn't she gained something from them anyway?
Miniature house. Minimal model.
So he agonized over it. Would this tiny figurine really do her any good? She was ant-sized—measured in millimeters—so even most miniature houses were comically oversized. Living in one would feel like holing up alone in a colossal department store or skyscraper. The best he could scrounge was a 3D-printed model, one of the smallest available: a plain two-story building, hollow inside with just an exterior shell.
But he figured it was better this way. For someone sleeping in a hammock slung over the bonsai pot out of fear of monster ants, she needed solid walls and a door—not fancy fixtures. She could decorate the interior herself.
I give up.
After a brief hesitation, he shoved his doubts aside, grabbed it, and headed for the flowerpot. She might hate it, fine—then it'd make a good storage shed. The toothpicks she was using for lumber weren't waterproof anyway.
Item Transfer
Growing accustomed to manipulating the text floating in the air, he transferred the finger-length object straight into the pot—no scale adjustment. It settled in at its natural size, but to her, it was a hulking behemoth crashing down with a thud. She recoiled in alarm, staggering back. For her, it was enormous; for the mana beast ants he'd seen before, it was a fortress. Made of tough material, it ought to keep her safe.
“That okay?”
He asked pointlessly, including a note scribbled on a Post-it. She couldn't read it anyway, but after staring at the unfamiliar script, she steadied her racing heart, gazed skyward, and smiled. Her reply came in actions: hauling her belongings from the tent into the new house.
Just like the sandals on her feet now, his gift had helped her once more.
“Yes, Team Leader. I just sent one via draft edit. If it's good, I'll do the rest that way.”
“Quick work, Seung-hyun. Peeked at it—looks solid. Send the rest ASAP.”
“Got it.”
No moment had ever made him more grateful for remote work. He could tend to the pot between tasks, and mysteriously, work that stalled at home flowed smoothly now.
“Ugh.”
When his mind and body wore down, he no longer wasted time doomscrolling—instead, he checked the veranda flowerpot. She wasn't one to idle either. With the sun high noon, pruning shears clenched in her teeth, she scaled the World Tree bonsai—a towering giant relative to her body—tending to it meticulously.
He wasn't sure how exactly elves and the World Tree connected, or if it matched fictional tropes perfectly, but she clearly cherished it. She caressed the fresh sprouts at its tips, pruning away any threats. Like that weird bug.
It was a touch smaller than her, with a red, beetle-like shell gnawing at the bark in a shady corner.
“____!”
Spotting it, she startled, then scowled in fury. Without hesitation, she unslung her bow, nocked an arrow, and fired. An acrobatic shot from her dangling perch, yet dead accurate. The wooden arrow struck true—but ricocheted off the bug's carapace.
Not enough.
He saw her bite her lip in frustration. Her handmade bow and arrows simply lacked punch. Undeterred, she clambered branch by branch to the bug, then smashed its face with her steel pruning shears, knocking it to the ground.
Elf's Prayer - Song of Hope
Hunting—she embraced it. If a fight arose, she'd charge in first. Her preemptive strike on the ant nest proved it. But he doubted it was for food. She ate sparingly, sticking to her homegrown apples, now supplemented by the tomatoes he'd sent.
No, she hunted for something else: the special power extracted from the bugs' corpses.
Kneeling before the fallen bug, her prayer-song reached his ears—a plea for hope against future trials. The faint blue glow from the corpse flowed into her body, and the buried remains would nourish the bonsai.
“...do you want?”
Her face hardened—not in fear, but resolve—as she looked to the sky. As if she knew he was watching. She'd made up her mind.
Elf's Prayer - Hunting Prayer
Another prayer, just like when she'd begged for rain. She wanted something from him: a hunt.
This confirmed it—she grew stronger through hunting, absorbing essence from foes' bodies. Far beyond mere exorcism.
Will this actually work?
Scratching his head doubtfully, he returned to the living room. Her resolve was clear, but certainty eluded him. He'd never sent a living creature into the pot before. Even pressing his body close, some unknown force repelled him with irresistible pressure.
“...you little shit.”
That grating, chilling whine hit then. Weather was warming, but a mosquito this early?
You're toast.
Repulsed beyond instinct, he skipped the electric swatter for a paper cup. Larger than a mosquito, but after ripping off its wings, it'd make decent prey for her.
“Gotcha, bastard.”
The mosquito hunt—a war that could unhinge the sanest person—dragged over ten minutes. Masters of stealth, cover, and evasion, but he tracked it relentlessly, capturing the wall-hugger between paper and cup.
Sealed tight, he shook the cup wildly, clapped for shock, and confirmed it out cold. Tweezers to the limp body—he plucked the wings.
A wave of absurdity hit—what was he doing?—but this wasn't for him. To the pot.
Just like before. It'd work or it wouldn't.
Creature Transfer: Type Adjustable
Mana Beast Type Confirmed: Mana Beast Transformation in Progress
“Huh?”
Not quite as expected—an extra step.
“W-wait.”
Mana Beast Mosquito Transfer
The twist floored him. As the mosquito plummeted into the pot, it mutated mid-fall. Fresh wings sprouted where he'd torn them off; its body gleamed with crimson eyes, sprouting razor spines, its thorax and legs armored in chitin.
“No, this wasn't on purpose...”
Freaking out, he gripped the pot's edge, watching her face the whirring colossal horror from above. Terrified she'd get hurt by his screw-up.
“---.”
But she steeled herself at the sight, resolute as if embracing fate. Before it could dive, she dashed to her prepared bow and arrows, loosing at the hovering beast.
Right—he'd forgotten. She was a warrior. She felt fear, sure, but fought to conquer it. Nothing like him. Calming down, he trusted her and watched.