So… what now?

Yeah, that had been a stupid-ass question to ask.

Apparently, Anal-lyth wanted to spar.

And me being me? Of course I was up for tumbling around with another woman.

Problem was, she took it way more seriously—even while I kept cracking jokes and playing the smartass.

You'd think, her being my Champion, she'd at least let me win—

Nope. Soooo wrong.

I peeled myself off the floor, my form oozing back together after yet another unceremonious splatter against the ceiling, chunks of my gooey, messy bits still dripping from above. That's when the sword I'd been using finally dropped too—hitting the stone floor with a CLANG-BANG-TINK-TINK-ROLL-STOP.

I rolled my eyes and bent down to pick it up.

Thinking back on those bouts with Anlyth in the Dream Realm… yeah, I was definitely there in full physical—or maybe ethereal?—form. I think it was an eldritch thing. Or divine? Whatever. Dream Realm nonsense.

She was probably just dreaming, but I was THERE. Fully, utterly, completely there.

Looking back, I can't help but wonder if it was really her I was squaring off against, or just some kind of shadowy echo. A recording? A subconscious projection? Who the hell knows. The Dream Realm is weird. Like, seriously weird.

Is it wrong that I kinda want to go back?

But, anyway—focus. Back on track.

Our fights there were pretty evenly matched. Sometimes she won. Sometimes I came out on top. Eventually, I started winning more often than not.

But here? In the real world? Totally different story.

Anlyth's absolutely wrecking me. Making me look like a complete noob, just tossing me around like a goo-filled rag doll. It's not even close. She's got me completely at her mercy.

It's like night and day compared to those recurring dream—or nightmare—clashes.

Go for the groin hit!

She's lacking the equipment.

Judging by how she's been dominating our ass, I'd say she's hiding a pair.

The sparring was starting to turn into a training session… or payback—yeah, probably payback.

We hadn't been using any magic, all because of the Slaethian patrols floating around topside—couldn't risk detection. Which was complete and utter bullshit. Also, the beastkin had some sort of crystal array sucking up all the ambient mana—which really sucked for me.

Though, I didn't mind as much now that I'd sorta-kinda-maybe figured out Divine Stellar Core. Somewhat. Still working out the details.

That said… I did like the orange glow pulsing from my chest. If you ask me, it looked hot as hell to have my tits glowing—well, okay, the glow was technically coming from between my boobs, but I was this close to figuring out how to make my nipples glow too. What? I need some kind of party trick for my sexy vampire when I get back to her.

Anyway—

I couldn't help but wonder how this so-called spar—aka this humiliating beatdown—would've played out if I were actually using my tricks. But nooo. Here I was, getting mercilessly pummeled and bitch-slapped across the floor like a low-level tutorial mob.

"Ugh, that's it—the big girl panties are coming off," I hissed.

Wait… isn't the saying, put them on?

Shush! We said what we said!

Anlyth cracked a grin—the first expression she'd shown me that wasn't contempt or outright revulsion. It was… sinister. I had to admit, I kinda liked it.

Then she lunged at me with her sword, which, yeah, was definitely going to suck.

Thankfully, she still wasn't using any of her magic—not like that first time when she whipped out that flaming sword of doom. No, she was holding back, limiting herself to just slicing me to ribbons… with a regular sword.

Though, her uppercuts were brutal—hence the gooey splatter marks now decorating the ceiling like some kind of abstract horror art.

Asherah, ever-so-generous, had provided me with the dull, beat-to-shit sword I'd been using for this spar. I may have shot auntie-goddess-in-hiding a glare when she handed it over. Let's be real—I wasn't a swordswoman. I was a monster.

And as she lunged at me this time, I decided—screw it. I was done pretending to fight like a human.

The moment turned chaotic as I exploded into a wild mass of tentacles, thrashing at Anlyth like a possessed calamari buffet. She was caught off guard—probably wondering where the hell all that mass came from. There she was, darting and dodging, pulling off all sorts of acrobatics to avoid my tendrils, each one thick as an electric pole and hell-bent on smacking her upside the head.

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I know, I know—this was supposed to be light sparring or whatever. But come on, I was desperate for a win here.

Anlyth, tough as nails, was up for the challenge—gracefully sidestepping, slicing through my limbs like she was dancing at a murder recital. It was irritatingly impressive. Sure, I'd reconnect them, but she was just too damn slick.

One thing Anlyth didn't seem to consider, though? Every severed tentacle that hit the ground formed a spreading pool of blackness beneath her—all still me.

When she sliced through another of my limbs, something coiled around her ankle. One glance down was all it took for both of us to realize—I had her.

The shadowy pool beneath her feet erupted into a writhing frenzy of tentacles, lunging up and dragging her into a chaotic embrace. She fought like hell, making it a bit more difficult than I'd hoped to pin down her sword arm.

But eventually… I had her. Completely wrapped up. Bound like something straight out of a kinky hentai scene, tentacles coiling around every limb, squeezing just enough to make her very uncomfortable. The look of sheer panic on her face? Absolutely priceless.

For a second, I wondered if she thought I was going to kill her.

Honestly? Even I was starting to wonder.

"Say 'uncle,'" I cooed, teasing.

"What?" came her bewildered response.

"Uncle! You know, like—giving up?" I urged.

"W-Why should I?" she snapped, still struggling.

I let out a dramatic sigh as I shifted back into my human shape—though I kept the tentacles wrapped snugly around her. They slithered across the ground, merging seamlessly into the lower part of my dress. Honestly, I looked like some unholy lovechild between a gothic nightmare and a sexy Ursula.

The shattered fragments of my soul briefly toyed with the idea of showing this form to Aurelia when we got back to her.

Think she's into tentacle play?

Totally worth the risk to find out.

"Just admit I won," I huffed, arms crossed, exasperation practically oozing from me as I held the elf down in a writhing grip.

"You do realize I could just engulf myself in holy flames and walk right through you?" she snapped, glaring.

"Umm… Uncle," I blurted, very quickly conceding—and even quicker releasing her.

Anlyth sheathed her sword—or more accurately, made it vanish into thin air. Magic really is something else.

Meanwhile, I was just finishing putting my face back together. It's not that I had any issue with my stark pitch-black appearance, but having a silk coating on at least my face lent me a semblance of my old self. Sure, with my tendril hair and tight face, coupled with glowing orange eyes, I looked a bit alien-esque. But like I've said time and again—I'm more creepy cute than anything else, and I've grown rather fond of this look. Plus, I was pretty sure it gave my bitter Champion the creeps, which was definitely a nice little bonus.

Humming the Freddy song under my breath, I sauntered over to the elf, who was still shooting me a stink eye.

"So, how did I do?" I asked, feeling pretty proud of myself for entrapping her in the end.

"You have no battle awareness, your reaction time is abysmal, and your arrogance is off the charts," she shot back. "Any squire worth their salt could've taken you down a hundred times over," Anlyth added with a scoff.

"Ouch. That's harsh. But hey, I wasn't using any magic," I defended, throwing up my hands.

"And neither was I," she snapped.

To be honest, I thought she was being overly critical. In my mind, I was nothing short of a badass. Sure, most of my victories involved ambushing people and sucker-punching them with magic—but those still counted as wins, right?

"Hey, I once took on a whole camp full of knights and mages, so I can't be that bad," I blurted, feeling the need to salvage at least a little pride.

"Were you lurking in the shadows when you did that?" she asked, dry as ash.

"N-No," I muttered, looking away.

I may have accidentally failed to mention it had actually been Aurelia doing it while she wore my flesh like a thong—I mean, dress.

Though, to be fair, I was all up in her while she did it.

"Sure, you'd make a decent assassin," she said with a shrug, "but as a fighter? Not so much."

Ugh. Backhanded compliments—my favorite flavor of insult.

Fine. Being a brute swinging a sword around wasn't really my style anyway. I'd always seen myself more as a sorceress. What I really needed was to get out of this gods-forsaken place, get topside, and fine-tune my magic. And, of course, try out those system skills I still needed to master—without the system's handholding—on some unsuspecting victims.

A smile crept across my face as I slinked closer to my Champion, closing the distance until I was just within arm's reach, locking eyes with her.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, leaning back slightly.

"We need to head topside. Fight with magic. Against those jerks up there," I said, gesturing toward the exit. "The ambient mana down here sucks, and I seriously don't want to keep slithering around like a goo blob just to get to the surface."

"I'm not here to help you wage war against my own people," Anlyth said, her voice stiff with uncertainty.

"Come on. You're my Champion now—that means you're supposed to wage war against everyone!" I grinned darkly. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be some noble warrior of light or whatever?" I rolled my eyes. "Look around, will you? The real victims are down here. Those so-called 'people' of yours up there? They're the real villains."

I conveniently left out the part where I wasn't exactly a saint either—though, to be fair, it was heavily implied. If it weren't for auntie-goddess-in-hiding over there, I might've already gone on a full-blown rampage through these catacombs.

But hey—allies are important.

Or… is it don't fuck with a goddess?

Some stupid shit like that.

"No," Anal-lyth said firmly, making it clear that topic was closed.

"Ugh, you're the worst Champion ever," I groaned. "But at least walk with me to the surface. We can chat it up about boys, girls, and murder or something," I added, trying another angle.

Anlyth chewed her lip, thinking it over, before sighing in resignation. "Fine. I'll accompany you to the surface and observe. But I won't help you attack my people—"

Wait—really? Was it the boys or girls comment?

No!

What?

I know what we're thinking, and we are not starting a harem! Do any of us think Aurelia would be fine with a harem? Hmm.

Yes. No. Maybe?

She pointed at me sharply. "—Observe. That's all."

"Yay!" I cheered, unable to keep the glee from bubbling out.

In my head, though?

I was already scheming… well, when the voices in my head weren't busy debating whether or not we were starting a harem. Not that I wanted to focus on that—no, what I wanted was to get back to my gorgeous vampire. Still, that didn't stop the background chatter.

Seriously, though, would Aurelia even mind?

FOCUS!

Back to the scheming!

What I really wanted was to see if I could 'accidentally' send an enemy Anlyth's way and watch her take down one of her own. There's something wickedly satisfying about corrupting people into doing your dirty work. And after being sliced and diced by elf-she-bitch repeatedly, I was starting to feel a bit peckish.

Oh, she's totally going to cross over to the dark side, isn't she?

Absolutely.

We'll have her embracing our kind of chaos before long.

Muahahaha!

Do you think she's into anal?

Ugh. The voices in my head are the worst.

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