Chapter 279 - The Sharpest Lizard That Ever Sharped
Boris lifted his tail over his head and stretched his tired limbs as he prepared to set out. It was just past noon, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky was covered in a blackened, woolly blanket, and the air was thick with moisture. It was a wonder that the clouds had yet to burst. Still, the ikarett was undisturbed. Bidding his mistress farewell with a nod, he crawled off the counter and made his way out the door.
He scuttled along the familiar street, stopping only to greet the usual faces as he passed them by. He didn’t turn until he reached the first major intersection, at which point he descended the city’s main road with his eyes set on his destination. It was the biggest landmark in sight, the giant white castle that lay at the center of town.
The lizard was not just another pedestrian, but an obstacle as well. His height often rendered him invisible to others that shared the street. Those unfortunate to step atop his smoothened back would slip and fall, with many twisting their ankles, but the perpetrator himself was indifferent. He did not exactly have an immunity to physical damage, but he was certainly working his way towards one. Had anything as light as an accidental step hurt him, he surely would have found himself incapable of surviving his intended purpose.
When he arrived at the castle’s gates, he was greeted by a familiar sight. Marcelle was already sitting outside, rolling around on her tummy as she awaited her lizard-shaped friend. She casually raised a flipper when she saw him, the same greeting she always gave.
Technically, she was skipping work. The manatee was on duty throughout her waking hours, but she was rarely summoned in broad daylight. It was much more common for her to fly out at night, when her massive, blubbery frame would not be so easily detected. Lest there was an emergency, the flying pet was generally free to do as she pleased from dawn till dusk. Or at least that was what she assumed, given that she had yet to be scolded.
Whatever the case, it was none of Boris’ business. With a quiet bark, he lazily climbed up onto the manatee’s back and lightly thwacked her blubber with his tail. She started to move the moment she was struck, flapping her tiny flippers with a squeal and rising into the sky. With another sound, even higher pitched than the first, she ripped a hole in spacetime and dove right through. The environment changed immediately; the gloomy, overcast sky was dyed red by plumes of magma. A dozen volcanos grew out of the skyline, each spewing hot ash and soot into the heavens above.
Taking a few moments to look around, Marcelle shook her head, squeaked some more, and crafted another portal. The second instance was nowhere near as threatening. Beneath the floating pair lay a grassy plain lightly rustled by a gentle wind. Giant, winged rabbits hopped around in the flowery field, idly munching on phallic grasses and enjoying the warm, spring breeze.
But while it was certainly a relaxing scene, it met exactly neither of their standards. So the manatee activated her signature ability and displaced them once again. Realm Warp was extremely resource-efficient; all the mana that went into its activation was returned by the time she slipped through the portal. Its cost came instead as a lack of control. While she could certainly return to a fixed anchor without any trouble, she was otherwise limited by the luck of the draw. To attempt to move to another location was to roll the dice, for every portal opened would always lead to a completely random dungeon in a hundred-kilometre range. As was easily determined from its sheer absurdity, it was not an ability that the sea cow had evolved or otherwise acquired with her own efforts, but one gifted by a certain mischievous celestial, a prize that every Llystletein native received, upon touching the gate to the great outdoors.
It took seventeen tries for the pair to happen upon a suitable location. They eventually found themselves in the middle of a desert, stationed right next to a shimmering oasis. The watering hole was the perfect location; the palms lining its pool provided shade for Marcelle to sleep under, as well as food for her to snack on. Wordlessly, Boris climbed off her back and left her to do as she pleased. Her role as taxi had come to an end; it was finally his time to shine.
Climbing atop the nearest dune, the lizard spread his body as far as he could, closed his eyes, and napped beneath the warmth of the sun, serving as a beacon for its brilliant rays.
___
He slept for a solid three hours before he next stirred. With a stretch and a shrill, reptilian yawn, he shook the sleepiness from his bones and gazed up at the blazing sun. It was still high in the sky; there would be a few hours before his mistress called for dinner. His first thought was to go back to sleep with the sun still on his back. He loved how the naked goddess embraced his body when he sat beneath her, heating him to the point where his mind practically turned to goop. But it was not meant to be.
Something strange happened when he tried to close his eyes. The light suddenly grew stronger, but the warmth that fed his drowsiness faded away. The sand beneath his belly was replaced by a sea of clouds, soft, pillowy clouds. His previous experiences dictated that the fluffy beds could not hold his weight, but strangely enough, he didn’t fall through. His legs sank into the cotton balls, but he otherwise remained perfectly in place.
When he raised his head, he found himself staring down a peculiar creature. Its body was covered with iridescent scales, each shining in a medley of dark purples and blues. Its hair was largely the same colour, with tiny specks of white dotting its various bits. On the tip of its head, there was a single horn, a dark purple blade as long as its neck. The rest of its body was largely familiar. It was reminiscent of the strange centaurs with no upper halves, its chests and arms replaced by a simple, long face.
“Welcome to the divine realm.”
He tilted his head as its voice echoed through his mind. It was a familiar sensation, the very same one he often experienced when his mistress spoke in her colossal form. Looking at the creature again, he found himself unable to determine if there was a resemblance. His gut was screaming that there was, but the reason eluded him no matter how hard he stared. While their scales were arranged similarly, the strange being before him sported a far narrower snout. Its eyes were not as sharp, and its nose was more rounded. The greatest difference between them, however, stemmed not from their physical appearances, but their demeanour; while his mistress was wild as a raging buck, the deformed centaur was enveloped in a gentler aura.
It looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to respond, but Boris did no such thing. He could only silently sweat as their eyes remained locked for a veritable eternity.
Eventually, the towering beast turned away with a smile upon its lips. It—she—took a few steps and then turned around, silently beckoning for the ikarett to follow. His first steps were hesitant, but he soon cast his worries aside and trod through the fluffy field.
The environment distorted as they moved, shifting to a graveyard, a swamp, and a rainbow bridge before settling on a secluded, wooded land. It was an ordinary patch of forest; the trees were adorned with songbirds aplenty, their nests carefully hidden between their branches. The neighbouring creek was filled with bugs and frogs, evident from the constant buzzing and croaking that filled the lizard’s ears.
If there was one thing about the scene that stood out, it was the old loghouse placed within the clearing. Smoke billowed from its chimney as the clanging of steel rang through the otherwise untouched land.
When the four-legged purple lady opened the door, she revealed a strange creature hovering over an anvil. For a moment, the lizard found himself struggling to understand the entity laid before him. Its shaggy beard aside, its only recognizable feature was its stout frame. It was not a skill that blocked his perception, nor his inability to understand what he saw, but simply the being’s construction. The glowing, faceless blob had a vaguely humanoid shape, but it was effectively a cocktail of raw energy somehow attached to a glob of hair.
The blob didn’t speak or even acknowledge the visitors’ presence. He continued to silently swing his hammer, to strike at his anvil and shape his blade. Together, Boris and the purple creature entered the building, where they sat in the corner of the room and watched as the blob continued to work. The silence lasted for over a thousand strikes, after which the blob picked up the resulting falchion in its glowing green hands and gave it a careful inspection.
The humanoid nodded to itself with an amused grunt, as if to say that it was done, only to shove the blade right back into the furnace. After heating it up a thousand degrees and nodding happily again, the dull green freak started the hammering process anew. It was an interaction that repeated, once, twice, ten times, before the glowing beard finally set aside its work
Humming in satisfaction, it spun around to face its guests, with beads of sweat still dripping down its nonexistent brow.
“Hello, Flux,” it said. Its—his—voice was distinctly masculine, a low, grumble almost too quiet to hear.
“Hello, Dorr,” she replied. “I see that you are incomprehensibly ugly as ever today.”
“That last bit was unnecessary,” muttered the god of the inner flame. The talking beard shook his head and breathed a tired sigh as he placed his freshly crafted weapon atop a nearby shelf. It stayed put while he arranged it, but the blade disappeared as soon as he nodded to himself and stepped away. “Can you do something about that tongue of yours already? I swear, every damn time.”
“I will not,” said the goddess. “Perhaps you would understand if you possessed a more competent brain, or a brain at all for that matter.”
“Y’see? That right there is exactly what I’m talking about.” The blob god shook his head before turning to his other guest. “And who are you, exactly?”
Not expecting to be addressed, the lizard stared blankly. It was a stark contrast from his usual behaviour, which would have involved the arduous and verbose task of silently looking at the man with his eyes wide open.
“Boris, eh? Not a bad name. Bit strange for a weapon though.”
The god walked over to the metal iguana and crouched down by his side. Lightly, he tapped the lizard with a silhouette vaguely resembling an arm, muttering to himself all the while. He even struck him a few times with his hammer, which to Boris’ surprise, led a pleasant sensation to spread throughout his frame. Alongside each strike was a tinging sound that echoed through his core, and for some odd reason or other settled inside his belly.
When the lizard looked up at the divine smith, he found the only distinguishable part of the man’s face furrowed in confusion. He hummed and hawed as he ran a hand through his misplaced pubic hair and rested his hammer atop his shoulder.
“That’s strange. It shouldn’t be doing that,” he muttered a concerning evaluation as he lifted the lizard onto his anvil and flipped him on his back. “Your construction’s decent, and your circuits aren’t terrible, but there’s something wrong with the way it’s flowing,” he said, after another casual tap. “You busy today?”
Boris paused for a brief moment before rapidly nodding his head. He still had a solid two hours of napping before he finally reached his quota, soon after which he was sure to be summoned for his evening meal. He wasn’t exactly sure of the glowing stranger’s intentions, but the only free time he had was late at night.
“Hm, guess we can do it the slow way then.”
The glowing man grabbed the lizard by the tail and slowly pushed him into the furnace. Like the hollow strikes, the flames were more comforting than painful. They heated him to his core, embracing him much the same way as the dazzling desert sun. He was tempted to sleep then and there, but his curiosity kept him from nodding off.
It was a tough battle, but he managed to last until the man retrieved him from the flames and raised his hammer overhead. Gazing upon the god led Boris to slowly blink in confusion. The one-handed stance he had used before was nowhere to be seen. The hammer was held between three limbs instead, with two of them having grown from the back of his head just for the occasion. The power that fueled the strike was different as well. It was driven not by a precise movement, but the divinity and mana that leaked out from his beard and into his body.
There was a strange bell-like sound when the smith’s tool made contact. It came alongside a flood of divine power, a flash so intense that it threatened to burn his circuits. And then, it was gone, dispersed through his body as if nothing had ever happened.
With a curious blink, he looked up at the deity, whose beard curved into a wide grin.
“What did I do, you ask? I fixed you,” he said. “Technically, I tweaked your digestive function so you could fix yourself. I would’ve been able to hammer you out the old-fashioned way if we had a few more hours, but this’ll do the job just fine. It’ll take maybe another day or three to kick in, but you won’t be blocked from ascending anymore once it has.”
Again, the lizard blinked.
“What do you mean you didn’t notice?” asked the glowing blob with an incredulous chuckle. “Didn’t you think there was a reason all your progress suddenly hit a wall?”
Boris paused for a moment, lowering his head just a bit before shaking it from side to side. His mistress had coincidentally stopped killing things as soon as he had hit level five hundred, and because he hadn’t been prompted, the lizard had failed to realize that he was supposed to have ascended. Even knowing that the option was on the table, however, left him largely unperturbed.
He wasn’t particularly interested in the pursuit of power. He would seek it if demanded by his mistress, but they were both already satisfied with his performance. That, of course, was not to say that he would reject it, just that he could not be bothered to go out of his way to acquire it. The same could be said for his approach to combat. There was nothing stopping him from going above and beyond in fulfilling his mistress’ requests, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was happy with his idle existence, whether that entailed eating a flavoured plate or simply napping his days away.
Evidently, the god was capable of reading his mind; Dorr sighed as he mumbled something or other about wasted potential, but the lizard could not be bothered to listen. His evaluation already made, he closed his eyes, surrendered his consciousness, and basked in the warmth of the forge.
Chapter 279 - The Sharpest Lizard That Ever Sharped
Boris lifted his tail over his head and stretched his tired limbs as he prepared to set out. It was just past noon, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky was covered in a blackened, woolly blanket, and the air was thick with moisture. It was a wonder that the clouds had yet to burst. Still, the ikarett was undisturbed. Bidding his mistress farewell with a nod, he crawled off the counter and made his way out the door.
He scuttled along the familiar street, stopping only to greet the usual faces as he passed them by. He didn’t turn until he reached the first major intersection, at which point he descended the city’s main road with his eyes set on his destination. It was the biggest landmark in sight, the giant white castle that lay at the center of town.
The lizard was not just another pedestrian, but an obstacle as well. His height often rendered him invisible to others that shared the street. Those unfortunate to step atop his smoothened back would slip and fall, with many twisting their ankles, but the perpetrator himself was indifferent. He did not exactly have an immunity to physical damage, but he was certainly working his way towards one. Had anything as light as an accidental step hurt him, he surely would have found himself incapable of surviving his intended purpose.
When he arrived at the castle’s gates, he was greeted by a familiar sight. Marcelle was already sitting outside, rolling around on her tummy as she awaited her lizard-shaped friend. She casually raised a flipper when she saw him, the same greeting she always gave.
Technically, she was skipping work. The manatee was on duty throughout her waking hours, but she was rarely summoned in broad daylight. It was much more common for her to fly out at night, when her massive, blubbery frame would not be so easily detected. Lest there was an emergency, the flying pet was generally free to do as she pleased from dawn till dusk. Or at least that was what she assumed, given that she had yet to be scolded.
Whatever the case, it was none of Boris’ business. With a quiet bark, he lazily climbed up onto the manatee’s back and lightly thwacked her blubber with his tail. She started to move the moment she was struck, flapping her tiny flippers with a squeal and rising into the sky. With another sound, even higher pitched than the first, she ripped a hole in spacetime and dove right through. The environment changed immediately; the gloomy, overcast sky was dyed red by plumes of magma. A dozen volcanos grew out of the skyline, each spewing hot ash and soot into the heavens above.
Taking a few moments to look around, Marcelle shook her head, squeaked some more, and crafted another portal. The second instance was nowhere near as threatening. Beneath the floating pair lay a grassy plain lightly rustled by a gentle wind. Giant, winged rabbits hopped around in the flowery field, idly munching on phallic grasses and enjoying the warm, spring breeze.
But while it was certainly a relaxing scene, it met exactly neither of their standards. So the manatee activated her signature ability and displaced them once again. Realm Warp was extremely resource-efficient; all the mana that went into its activation was returned by the time she slipped through the portal. Its cost came instead as a lack of control. While she could certainly return to a fixed anchor without any trouble, she was otherwise limited by the luck of the draw. To attempt to move to another location was to roll the dice, for every portal opened would always lead to a completely random dungeon in a hundred-kilometre range. As was easily determined from its sheer absurdity, it was not an ability that the sea cow had evolved or otherwise acquired with her own efforts, but one gifted by a certain mischievous celestial, a prize that every Llystletein native received, upon touching the gate to the great outdoors.
It took seventeen tries for the pair to happen upon a suitable location. They eventually found themselves in the middle of a desert, stationed right next to a shimmering oasis. The watering hole was the perfect location; the palms lining its pool provided shade for Marcelle to sleep under, as well as food for her to snack on. Wordlessly, Boris climbed off her back and left her to do as she pleased. Her role as taxi had come to an end; it was finally his time to shine.
Climbing atop the nearest dune, the lizard spread his body as far as he could, closed his eyes, and napped beneath the warmth of the sun, serving as a beacon for its brilliant rays.
___
He slept for a solid three hours before he next stirred. With a stretch and a shrill, reptilian yawn, he shook the sleepiness from his bones and gazed up at the blazing sun. It was still high in the sky; there would be a few hours before his mistress called for dinner. His first thought was to go back to sleep with the sun still on his back. He loved how the naked goddess embraced his body when he sat beneath her, heating him to the point where his mind practically turned to goop. But it was not meant to be.
Something strange happened when he tried to close his eyes. The light suddenly grew stronger, but the warmth that fed his drowsiness faded away. The sand beneath his belly was replaced by a sea of clouds, soft, pillowy clouds. His previous experiences dictated that the fluffy beds could not hold his weight, but strangely enough, he didn’t fall through. His legs sank into the cotton balls, but he otherwise remained perfectly in place.
When he raised his head, he found himself staring down a peculiar creature. Its body was covered with iridescent scales, each shining in a medley of dark purples and blues. Its hair was largely the same colour, with tiny specks of white dotting its various bits. On the tip of its head, there was a single horn, a dark purple blade as long as its neck. The rest of its body was largely familiar. It was reminiscent of the strange centaurs with no upper halves, its chests and arms replaced by a simple, long face.
“Welcome to the divine realm.”
He tilted his head as its voice echoed through his mind. It was a familiar sensation, the very same one he often experienced when his mistress spoke in her colossal form. Looking at the creature again, he found himself unable to determine if there was a resemblance. His gut was screaming that there was, but the reason eluded him no matter how hard he stared. While their scales were arranged similarly, the strange being before him sported a far narrower snout. Its eyes were not as sharp, and its nose was more rounded. The greatest difference between them, however, stemmed not from their physical appearances, but their demeanour; while his mistress was wild as a raging buck, the deformed centaur was enveloped in a gentler aura.
It looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to respond, but Boris did no such thing. He could only silently sweat as their eyes remained locked for a veritable eternity.
Eventually, the towering beast turned away with a smile upon its lips. It—she—took a few steps and then turned around, silently beckoning for the ikarett to follow. His first steps were hesitant, but he soon cast his worries aside and trod through the fluffy field.
The environment distorted as they moved, shifting to a graveyard, a swamp, and a rainbow bridge before settling on a secluded, wooded land. It was an ordinary patch of forest; the trees were adorned with songbirds aplenty, their nests carefully hidden between their branches. The neighbouring creek was filled with bugs and frogs, evident from the constant buzzing and croaking that filled the lizard’s ears.
If there was one thing about the scene that stood out, it was the old loghouse placed within the clearing. Smoke billowed from its chimney as the clanging of steel rang through the otherwise untouched land.
When the four-legged purple lady opened the door, she revealed a strange creature hovering over an anvil. For a moment, the lizard found himself struggling to understand the entity laid before him. Its shaggy beard aside, its only recognizable feature was its stout frame. It was not a skill that blocked his perception, nor his inability to understand what he saw, but simply the being’s construction. The glowing, faceless blob had a vaguely humanoid shape, but it was effectively a cocktail of raw energy somehow attached to a glob of hair.
The blob didn’t speak or even acknowledge the visitors’ presence. He continued to silently swing his hammer, to strike at his anvil and shape his blade. Together, Boris and the purple creature entered the building, where they sat in the corner of the room and watched as the blob continued to work. The silence lasted for over a thousand strikes, after which the blob picked up the resulting falchion in its glowing green hands and gave it a careful inspection.
The humanoid nodded to itself with an amused grunt, as if to say that it was done, only to shove the blade right back into the furnace. After heating it up a thousand degrees and nodding happily again, the dull green freak started the hammering process anew. It was an interaction that repeated, once, twice, ten times, before the glowing beard finally set aside its work
Humming in satisfaction, it spun around to face its guests, with beads of sweat still dripping down its nonexistent brow.
“Hello, Flux,” it said. Its—his—voice was distinctly masculine, a low, grumble almost too quiet to hear.
“Hello, Dorr,” she replied. “I see that you are incomprehensibly ugly as ever today.”
“That last bit was unnecessary,” muttered the god of the inner flame. The talking beard shook his head and breathed a tired sigh as he placed his freshly crafted weapon atop a nearby shelf. It stayed put while he arranged it, but the blade disappeared as soon as he nodded to himself and stepped away. “Can you do something about that tongue of yours already? I swear, every damn time.”
“I will not,” said the goddess. “Perhaps you would understand if you possessed a more competent brain, or a brain at all for that matter.”
“Y’see? That right there is exactly what I’m talking about.” The blob god shook his head before turning to his other guest. “And who are you, exactly?”
Not expecting to be addressed, the lizard stared blankly. It was a stark contrast from his usual behaviour, which would have involved the arduous and verbose task of silently looking at the man with his eyes wide open.
“Boris, eh? Not a bad name. Bit strange for a weapon though.”
The god walked over to the metal iguana and crouched down by his side. Lightly, he tapped the lizard with a silhouette vaguely resembling an arm, muttering to himself all the while. He even struck him a few times with his hammer, which to Boris’ surprise, led a pleasant sensation to spread throughout his frame. Alongside each strike was a tinging sound that echoed through his core, and for some odd reason or other settled inside his belly.
When the lizard looked up at the divine smith, he found the only distinguishable part of the man’s face furrowed in confusion. He hummed and hawed as he ran a hand through his misplaced pubic hair and rested his hammer atop his shoulder.
“That’s strange. It shouldn’t be doing that,” he muttered a concerning evaluation as he lifted the lizard onto his anvil and flipped him on his back. “Your construction’s decent, and your circuits aren’t terrible, but there’s something wrong with the way it’s flowing,” he said, after another casual tap. “You busy today?”
Boris paused for a brief moment before rapidly nodding his head. He still had a solid two hours of napping before he finally reached his quota, soon after which he was sure to be summoned for his evening meal. He wasn’t exactly sure of the glowing stranger’s intentions, but the only free time he had was late at night.
“Hm, guess we can do it the slow way then.”
The glowing man grabbed the lizard by the tail and slowly pushed him into the furnace. Like the hollow strikes, the flames were more comforting than painful. They heated him to his core, embracing him much the same way as the dazzling desert sun. He was tempted to sleep then and there, but his curiosity kept him from nodding off.
It was a tough battle, but he managed to last until the man retrieved him from the flames and raised his hammer overhead. Gazing upon the god led Boris to slowly blink in confusion. The one-handed stance he had used before was nowhere to be seen. The hammer was held between three limbs instead, with two of them having grown from the back of his head just for the occasion. The power that fueled the strike was different as well. It was driven not by a precise movement, but the divinity and mana that leaked out from his beard and into his body.
There was a strange bell-like sound when the smith’s tool made contact. It came alongside a flood of divine power, a flash so intense that it threatened to burn his circuits. And then, it was gone, dispersed through his body as if nothing had ever happened.
With a curious blink, he looked up at the deity, whose beard curved into a wide grin.
“What did I do, you ask? I fixed you,” he said. “Technically, I tweaked your digestive function so you could fix yourself. I would’ve been able to hammer you out the old-fashioned way if we had a few more hours, but this’ll do the job just fine. It’ll take maybe another day or three to kick in, but you won’t be blocked from ascending anymore once it has.”
Again, the lizard blinked.
“What do you mean you didn’t notice?” asked the glowing blob with an incredulous chuckle. “Didn’t you think there was a reason all your progress suddenly hit a wall?”
Boris paused for a moment, lowering his head just a bit before shaking it from side to side. His mistress had coincidentally stopped killing things as soon as he had hit level five hundred, and because he hadn’t been prompted, the lizard had failed to realize that he was supposed to have ascended. Even knowing that the option was on the table, however, left him largely unperturbed.
He wasn’t particularly interested in the pursuit of power. He would seek it if demanded by his mistress, but they were both already satisfied with his performance. That, of course, was not to say that he would reject it, just that he could not be bothered to go out of his way to acquire it. The same could be said for his approach to combat. There was nothing stopping him from going above and beyond in fulfilling his mistress’ requests, but he couldn’t be bothered. He was happy with his idle existence, whether that entailed eating a flavoured plate or simply napping his days away.
Evidently, the god was capable of reading his mind; Dorr sighed as he mumbled something or other about wasted potential, but the lizard could not be bothered to listen. His evaluation already made, he closed his eyes, surrendered his consciousness, and basked in the warmth of the forge.
