Chapter 111: The Elf's Work 3
Chapter 111: The Elf's Work 3
Beastkin with animal ears and wings, witches and wizards who command magic,
ethereally beautiful elves with pointed ears, and Dream Demons who manipulate the stuff of dreams.
Throw in bipedal werewolves, androids devoid of any trace of humanity, armored soldiers,
and when you're steeped in daily tranquility surrounded by all of that,
it's easy to forget this world is a fantasy setting.
Right now was one of those moments.
"Wha—?! What the?"
A fiery session of pleasure had kicked off right there in the living room, no time to retreat to the bedroom.
I was sprawled on the bare wooden floor, basking in the afterglow with no blanket in sight, when cold droplets began plinking onto my face.
The bonus: my sweat-slicked, sticky body felt startlingly refreshed—probably partly thanks to that sweet scent hanging in the air.
"Well? Nice and cool, isn't it?"
Water had been abruptly spritzed onto my face, but I wasn't annoyed.
I rubbed my cheeks with my palms, glanced up at the ceiling,
and found a long tree vine dangling there, dribbling water like a rubber hose.
Are elves just automatically nature-friendly and that's the end of it?
The whole situation was bizarre—a splash of water to the face and suddenly my whole body feels rejuvenated—
but a tree vine that gushes cold water? Elves? Dream Demons? None of it was ever logical or scientific to begin with.
I shrugged it off and got to my feet.
I'd been lying there naked and sweat-drenched,
so my skin peeled off the floor with a sticky schlip—but even that didn't bother me.
Maybe it was because the floor itself was that eco-friendly wood.
And, obviously, we were both still stark naked.
A golden-haired elf girl with snow-white skin held the vine in one hand,
flicking droplets from her fingertips in an arc—a sight so stunning I nearly lost myself in it.
I wasn't the only one whose gaze was snared by her nude form.
"Um, should I fetch you something to cover up with?"
"Why? You've already gotten an eyeful."
"That was then, this is now... different context?"
Her face flushed crimson, and as if shaking off her embarrassment, she sent a spray of cold water my way.
More cold water someone else had unilaterally decided to douse me with pattered onto my naked, bodily-fluid-soiled body—and I felt zero irritation.
Except it was so cold you'd never guess it came from a plant, which meant down below promptly shrank up into itself.
"Ah, it got smaller...!"
Maybe she found it fascinating that my equipment—which, true to Dream Demon nature, had stayed proudly upright even after the deed—was now wilting and bowing its head.
The Unfading Giant Tree studied my shriveling asset and murmured inadvertently.
So even a Dream Demon's body, even an elf's body, wilts when you dump cold water straight onto it.
A reaction that lent my thus-far-undefeated nether region a touch of relatable humanity.
Its near-infinite stamina probably wouldn't wilt unless I ran into something like a Succubus Constellation someday.
I was busy with that idle train of thought when a snowy-white cloth was tossed at me.
The traditional elven garment from back when we'd held the ritual with the farmers.
I draped the long fabric over my shoulders, and the Unfading Giant Tree slipped up behind me and wrapped it around my body from the back.
No idea whether you'd call this a tunic or a toga, but in an instant, I was dressed, one shoulder lightly bared.
Wrapping a cloth bigger than a blanket that deftly, that fast—
I guess spending all that time at the World Tree looking after kids makes you awfully good at taking care of people.
Couldn't I help her get dressed in return?
Harboring that lecherous thought, I casually glanced back—and was met with the sight of her already fully clothed and resplendent.
I'd meant to steal an embrace around her waist while wrapping the cloth, but she was already dressed and straightening her garments with elegant composure.
I looked at her with a hint of disappointment. Maybe she misinterpreted that.
Somewhat tactless by nature, she sidled up and pressed the tree vine into my hand.
A bluish-green stem, closer to teal than pure green.
Fitting for a vine that gushed cold water—both the vine and its leaves felt cold against my fingertips.
It called to mind vegetables you've mistakenly tossed into the freezer instead of the fridge.
"Well? Amazing, right? It's an ice vine. Stays cold even under summer sunlight."
Wow, that name sure is direct.
Come to think of it, elven plant-naming conventions are blunt to the point of being shameless.
Sap that tastes like honey? Honey sap.
A vine that pours water as cold as ice? Ice vine. That kind of logic.
I savored the cool sensation in my palm, mulling this over, then returned to my own space.
We'd chattered plenty, I'd explained what had happened, and we'd thoroughly enjoyed what a man and a woman can enjoy.
Even so, postponed work still needed doing, didn't it?
※
Leaving the Unfading Giant Tree's Sanctum, I headed for Loyal Fang.
Truth was, my itinerary was fixed.
My Sanctum, the temporary Sanctum, the Unfading Giant Tree's Sanctum, Loyal Fang's Sanctum, and Han Ye-ji's house.
The reason: that technique I'd manifested last time—Drawing Entities Out of Dreams.
Just as exercise stimulates muscle and makes it grow, magical power expands the more you use it.
It might look like I'm just slipping into my Incarnations' dreams to fool around and freeload,
but the more I repeat that act, the more the magical power I can command steadily increases.
You can tell just from the fact that I've gone from summoning a chihuahua for three minutes to pulling out a monster the size of a medium-duty truck.
"So, this is that... thing?"
"Yeah, that's right."
And so, even if the aftermath brings days of skull-splitting headaches,
in the end I'd managed to forge a Heart of Magic.
A Heart of Magic that persisted without me blacking out and flopping over like last time,
and the shell of a pure-white werewolf layered atop it.
Loyal Fang set down his drink and stared at it with a severe expression. His eyes met the white werewolf's—
and then the creature flipped the tent flap open and bolted off into the vast grasslands somewhere.
"What the—?!"
Did werewolves share some instinctive understanding?
Loyal Fang, who'd been gaping so hard his tongue was practically lolling out like a dog on the hottest day of summer,
also went scrambling outside with a pitter-patter of footsteps.
That snowy-white female werewolf was a being I'd drawn out of Loyal Fang's dreams.
So that sudden sprint—wasn't it, in essence, an act Loyal Fang had dreamed of in his unconscious all along?
In the distance, the white wolf and the gray wolf raced across the plain, the full moon their spotlight,
until they shrank to dots on the horizon.
And past the disheveled tent flap, I saw what was left behind: bright-yellow beastly eyes glaring straight at me.
"Uh, good doggy? Stop?"
More precisely, the intense stares of animal retainers locked onto my lap.
Every time I visited Loyal Fang's Sanctum, he set out meat appetizers, liquor, and drinks.
Which meant in front of me was a table laden with heaps of meat—
"Hey, stop! Sit! Paw?"
A rough estimate said over thirty assorted beasts
were advancing on me in an unmistakable hunting stance, haunches twitching.
I might know Dream Demon abilities, but the elf abilities? I had no clue how to control them.
An ominous premonition surged like a tidal wave. I grabbed a bottle of liquor in one hand, a meat platter in the other, and hoisted both into a surrender pose.
The next instant, a swarm of multicolored furballs descended.
From a Samoyed that plopped its chin onto my cross-legged lap with its full weight, to a Golden Retriever shoving that Samoyed aside with its head,
to the small ones exploiting their size advantage to wriggle through the gaps even while being crushed under larger dogs,
and a cat hissing and throwing meow-punches out of sheer spite.
The chaos of the furries left my lap past warm and straight into sweltering,
and with the meat platter impossible to set down, Loyal Fang returned, shoving the tent flap aside.
"Hey! Get these guys off me, would you?!"
At which point this goddamn werewolf, completely ignoring the meat pancake being trampled on the floor,
simply darted his tongue out, swiped several pieces of meat straight off the platter I was holding one-handed, and bolted right back outside.
"You absolute dog-bastard!"
"You've got an elf body—why're you yelling at me about it?"
His shout came through the flapping tent.
What the hell was he planning to enjoy, galloping across moonlit grasslands acting like that?
The meat platter in my hand grew lighter. I set it down in a corner of the room, whereupon it vanished from sight within ten seconds.
'Do they think it's a frisbee?'
It was a wooden dish, so it wouldn't shatter,
but maybe its round shape looked like a disc, or they were drunk on the meat smell—they kept kicking and gnawing at it.
Amid that hair-raising pandemonium, I squeezed my eyes shut and drew up my magical power.
Dream Demon magic thickly laced with an elf's scent.
Lavender threads of light swam through the air, and the clamorous noise fell abruptly silent.
Alongside it came a surge of violent emotional waves.
If human emotions—my Incarnations included—came through like whispers,
animal emotions rang in my ears like a busted radio cranked to maximum volume.
A piercing tinnitus, and the headache crashing in behind it.
I clutched my forehead and shut my eyes tight. Did they notice?
A rough tongue reeking of meat dragged across my cheek.
Just as I couldn't hold a conversation through the radio static and the ringing,
I couldn't chat with animals—but I felt like I could grasp their emotions and issue commands.
Though giving orders to these little creatures was harder than pulling entities out of dreams.
I poured the fury swelling in my chest into my magical power.
That son of a bitch Loyal Fang had gotten all worked up in heat, dumped his own retainer animals on me, and bolted.
Like a young couple slipping their kid arcade money so they can enjoy some private time together.
"Go! Bite!"
I thrust my finger outward and yelled. The furballs surged out in a stampede, threatening to tear the tent down.
"You pointy-eared little shiiiiit—!"
Manifesting a Clone inside a dream: success.
Commanding animals with an elf's body: success.
I fled Loyal Fang's Sanctum without a moment's hesitation.
Ignoring the mournful duet of wolf howls echoing behind me.