Chapter 9: 2-1: Preparations part 4

Rows and rows of blank stone faces, all carved to the same perfect likeness. Humanoid forms wearing distinct clothes, holding miniature tools inscribed with whisper-thin runes.

Shabti Dolls. Golems designed only for one purpose. As soon as they were activated with a pulse of Mana, they would come to life. They could only ever be activated once, though, and after they fulfilled their purpose they simply crumbled to dust.

Shabti are a very esoteric type of Golem, simply because of their bizarre limitations. For instance, the material they were formed of directly determined their properties. Not just physical properties, but the quality of information they were able to retain as well. Second, upon their death all their data was copied into a small black box that had to be retrieved before it could be used. A big problem in the middle of enemy territory, as it usually made the whole idea pointless. And finally, Shabti may be a perfect image of who they were supposed to copy, but they were at a literal fraction of their original's durability, and thus were prone to shattering.

For infiltration? No. For pranks? Maybe. But the fact no one ever seemed to get was that, properly made, Shabti can make excellent stunt doubles.

I had mass-produced them in various materials as soon as each wax replica was a perfect likeness of the original in every way. The Guardians who had volunteered understood their role and had already activated their Shabti, sending them out according to my orders. My own copies had set out as well, each armed with my entire Skill set and effectively functioning as a perfect yet slightly fragile version of me.

After all… there's no need to keep secrets when your personal agents already know the secrets you need to keep.

This was my plan. My perfect idea to keep my head out of trouble while still learning all I can of the outside world. Once I know where I stand, I can begin to make changes as I see fit.

I had finished making the spares. And the spares for the spares. And the spares for those spares. All of them stood only a few centimeters high, ready to grow to my exact height at a moment's notice. And I had gotten it all done within the same span of time as I had done everything else needed to get ready.

More importantly… I used every opportunity given to more fully examine my Job Classes.

See, as amazing as my little trick was, it was far from perfect. The Job Classes I had while the world was still a game were perfectly ingrained in my mind. My Alchemist Class, for instance granted me perfect knowledge of how to construct extremely high-tier Golems as if I had worked on them for years, perfecting the exact processes needed. I knew how to save time, how to make the process easier, how to avoid making mistakes even experts might slip on. A perfect copy of a perfect skillset.

My grasp over my newest Job Classes, on the other hand, was tenuous at best. Yes, I had a vague idea on how the different Classes worked, but it was like instinctively knowing how to throw a punch. Even a beginner can satisfy the basic requirements of a punch, possibly break someone's jaw, but if you don't know how to throw your weight behind it or not to tuck in your thumb, you might end up with a dislocated thumb and an unhurt opponent.

Heh. Thank you, Pugilist Class, for the wonderful metaphor.

I smiled faintly to myself, opening and closing a hand. I could see tiny scrapes and scars on their calloused surface, trophies of countless battles. These scars had once been put onto my first Avatar, a living tank of a man that was covered in scars from head to toe. Despite me never taking the time to duplicate them onto my second Avatar, they showed through regardless.

I had always loved the idea of a scarred warrior, their scars tracing a roadmap through their history. That was what the scars were—a memorial. Every enemy that managed to kill me was given a memorial on my skin, a tradition I held even upon gaining a more powerful form. Even the PKers that once pinned me down with sheer numbers were given a grudging spot, a place just above my left shoulder where their killing blow had landed. They would never show as a Dragon, but as a human they were clear as day.

My eyes continued to trace the roadmap of scars, stopping at the line of my wrist. The branches of a Lichtenberg Figure wrapped around my arm, my representation of a lightning-based attack that had once killed me. I continued on, fading back to each individual scar. Each moment in time weaving into a magnificent tapestry telling of all I had done to get this far.

Time spent creating this beautiful world for myself. Time sacrificed to make this moment possible. Over seventy-five thousand hours spent in a virtual world, ignoring reality with the somber stubbornness of a man who had given up on it.

Even if I had left my past behind, I would never forget where I came from.

I lowered my hands, sighing. Opening and closing calloused hands. Hands of a warrior, hands of a smith. The hands of a man who forged war into an art, turning it into a tool to fulfil a purpose. Blood would stain these hands one day, and on that day I would cease to be the man I had once been. I was the Ancient One now, a being that only escaped the rivers of blood he created by standing atop the mountains of corpses. A man who slaughtered a world in cold blood.

It wasn't who I was. But it's who I am now.

I shook my head, returning to the present. Now wasn't the time to wax poetic. Perhaps it was just my exhaustion talking, making me drift to places I normally wouldn't.

You've seen glimpses. Little peeks into all I've been busting my ass to get done. I've been working nonstop for the past forty-eight hours just to get everything over and done with. Every Servant has individually been given standing orders, each security measure activated and sustained. I created new Golem Cores to automate new processes, fortifying and upgrading everything that could possibly need it within the walls of my new home.

Dragons may not need sleep, but we can still feel fatigue. And after everything I've done, fatigue doesn't describe the half of it. All I really want to do is find my Maidens and sleep for ages. Not even my sex drive is active right now, I just want to have a nice, relaxing night with nothing exciting happening.

…Good God, it's just hit me. I've been here for a full week, now. Seven days of various frantic scrambles intermixed with random naps. I've barely seen my Maidens at all.

Well, I suppose a return home is long overdue. I might as well surprise them, spend the rest of the night in their company. A date for three. Date Night.

I activated my ring with a flick of my thoughts, vanishing from my workshop without a sound.

"Archer? Noa?" I called, stepping into the foyer of my mansion. "Are you here?"

Archer didn't reply, but Noa's pink hair was visible against the dark grey of the sofa in the living room. She yawned sleepily, turning her head to look at me. She was swaddled in blankets from head to toe, looking as pleased as can be about her position.

"Noa." I said in amusement, approaching the couch. "If I might ask, why are you being held captive by a herd of wild blankets?"

"I am a cocoon." Noa stated sleepily. "See? If I stay long enough, I'll emerge as a beautiful butterfly."

My lips twitched. "Noa, you don't need to emerge as a beautiful butterfly. You're already beautiful enough as it is."

Noa blinked, considering my words. "…Would it be a problem if I were more beautiful?"

"No." I said, fighting back a laugh. "But it would be quite a long wait, and I doubt cocoons can leave the couch for Date Night."

Noa perked up. "…Date Night?"

"So you're done with work?" Archer asked, stepping into the room. "Also, Noa, I've told you four times already, being a butterfly would be pointless. You're already pretty and you can already fly."

"But I can't taste things with my feet." Noa argued. "And human eyes can only see three colors. Butterflies see fifteen."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm done with work for the foreseeable future. I have Rubedo covering for me for the next day or two, so I have plenty of time to spend with my favorite girls in the world."

Noa blinked. "…Does that mean we can—"

"Not yet."

"Dammit."

Archer frowned at the Spirit. "Noa, no cursing."

Noa tilted her head, ignoring Archer. "Why can't we?"

"Because Archer wants to be swept off her feet first." I stated. "She wants to be romanced like a lady should be."

Noa frowned. "…Pointless."

"Noa, respect Archer's culture. You're trapped in a wad of blankets pretending to be a caterpillar, you have no room to judge."

Noa nodded sagely. "This is true."

Archer raised a bemused eyebrow. "…I'm not sure if that conversation was even supposed to make sense."

"Trust me. You would be offended if you understood." I said drily. "So for now, let's just take a vote on how we're going to spend tonight. Any suggestions?"

Archer shook her head, wiping off her hands. "I've just been practicing my Magecraft for the past few days, I'm fine with anything at this point. Noa's been really tired lately from the transfer shock, so I doubt she'd like any sports or dueling. Maybe a movie."

I blinked. 'Sports? Dueling? What exactly is her idea of a date? Never mind, for people who fight for a living, that's probably on par for the course. Everything is an excuse to stay fit, even dates.'

"Sure." I agreed. "A movie sounds nice. We could even take out a puzzle and do it at the same time."

Noa struggled for a moment, then looked plaintively up at me. "I'm stuck."

"You can go into Spirit form, silly." I reminded.

She blinked. "…But wouldn't I be naked, then?"

"Your clothes go intangible too." I shook my head, bemused. "Come on, have you never noticed that your clothes don't fall off you every time you dodge an attack? Come on, up you go."

Noa tentatively stuck out a hand, then moved to a sitting position. The blankets she had been wrapped in slumped as she ceased occupying them, becoming a mere pile of cloth rather than a cocoon. Sure enough, her clothes remained on her form as she rose to her feet.

…Hmm. Pity. I almost hoped that they really did stay behind.

Actually, no, I didn't. I'm honestly too tired to perv on her right now.

"My panties are still there." Noa reported blandly. "The power of Spirits is not with the pantsu."

I shrugged. "When I made that for you, you weren't wearing panties. Or a bra."

Noa nodded sagely. "I was a fool to believe in the power of pantsu."

Archer rubbed her temples, eyes closed. "…You know what? I'm not even going to touch this one. Instead, I'm going to go upstairs and get into more comfortable clothes. When you two feel like having normal conversations again, I'll be waiting."

"Normal." I scoffed quietly. "What fun is normal?"

Noa giggled quietly, reaching into the blanket pile to pull free her bra and panties. "Let's go join Archer-nee before she stops being annoyed. She's always the most adorable when she has her annoyed face on."

"I know, right?" I grinned. "That cute little wrinkle in her brow, the little frown, the way she puffs up like an indignant kitten…"

Noa giggled again. "And she really doesn't know how to deal with teasing, either."

I nodded, turning to walk up the stairs. I could faintly hear her thumping drawers, likely getting changed. "How long do you think we have until she catches on?"

Noa tilted her head. "Depends."

"On?"

"How much we do it."

"Fair enough." I chuckled, stopping to knock lightly on the bedroom door. "You done in there?"

"All finished!" Archer called back. "I turned the T.V. on, too."

Ah, yes, the television. Something I originally got in the Technology Event as a microtransaction. All it really was was an embedded file player, really, and it was mainly used as a marketing tool in-game. But I downloaded literally every movie imaginable into my own system, storing it all on space I bought for a ridiculous price.

It would never stream live, but it could certainly play movies.

I turned the door handle, almost instinctively sending out a pulse of mana to deactivate the traps on it. Noa followed, carelessly tossing her undergarments onto the nightstand. I paused to open the cabinet underneath the wall-sized flatscreen, pulling out a puzzle and a large square board. I brought them over to the bed, setting them down.

Noa pulled off her dress and tugged on a nightgown, utterly unconcerned about Archer's spluttering. Said spluttering stopped abruptly as I picked up my nightclothes to change as well, untying my furs and revealing my scarred form. A moment later, the show was over, though I definitely saw a bit of drool still on the corner of my Maiden's mouth alongside her bright red cheeks.

Ah, yes. Teasing my adorable Archer will never get old.

"All right, then." I chirped, as if I hadn't just short-circuited one of my Maidens. "Snuggles and warm hugs. Romantic movies, maybe?" I squinted at the wall-sized television, sliding into bed and leaving room for Noa to join us. "It's been a while, but I think I have the Twilight Saga on there, at least. Oh, and Princess Bride. Bukubukuchagama was jealous of that, but she didn't compete in the Technology Event, so she couldn't complain."

"Don't talk about that Slime." Archer mumbled, snuggling into my side. "She is evil. Pure evil in distilled pink form."

I raised an eyebrow. "…What do you have against Buku?"

"She's a husband-stealing harlot, that's what." The tanned girl growled, steely eyes flashing. "She kept trying to flirt with your dense ass, even when I was literally right there. Shameless slut."

I blinked. '…Oh. I see. Bukubukuchagama must've made Archer jealous. Huh.' "Don't worry, love." I soothed, leaning over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't make you my Maiden for nothing, you know."

She huffed, allowing me to put my arm around her shoulders and leaning into me. "Good." Her face softened slightly. "…You've never cheated on me before, and Noa only joined us after we both fell in love with her clueless adorability, but still…" She nuzzled my arm. "I got worried, sometimes."

"I want a horror movie." Noa stated, oblivious to the conversation we were having. She had been unboxing the puzzle, examining the pieces with an interested gaze. Evidently they passed her inspection, because she poured them out over the board and scooted back.

Archer sighed, a faint smile still on her face. "Horror movies aren't really standard fare for dates, Noa."

"Don't care." The Spirit lay back against me, her impressive chest pillowing pleasantly against my side. "No matter how scary it is, I have my Dragon here to protect me."

Archer tilted her head, considering. "That actually doesn't sound too bad. I'm all for a romance film, but those get boring after a while. Besides, we still have that stock of movies from Tabula-sama. We could pick from one of those."

I shrugged, handing her the remote. "Be my guest. I don't think Noa cares too much which movie it is, and I'm pretty sure that the two of us have seen too much to be scared by anything Hollywood can cook up."

"Hollywood?" Noa repeated, confused.

"The place movies come from."

"Ah." She picked up a piece, frowning at it. Then she set it down, picking up another.

Archer hummed, flipping through titles. "Trash, trash, below trash, trash…"

I chuckled, leaning over to whisper to Noa. "Give her a bit. She's picky when it comes to movies."

"I know." She whispered back. "She keeps trying to stop me from seeing the ones with sex in them."

"Those are called pornos, Noa." I said. "You shouldn't watch those, they're bad for you."

"Ah. I see." She nodded, raising her voice. "Are you done picking yet?"

Archer huffed, still whizzing past titles. "Give me a second."

"One-Mississippi."

"I didn't mean it literally!"

"Then say that."

"It should go without saying!"

I chuckled quietly, making them both break off. "Come on, you two. Calm down. We haven't even started the movie yet."

Both girls backed down, grumbling. Well, Archer grumbled. Noa just frowned slightly, which was about as expressive as she got. Archer clicked 'play' on a movie that had passed her inspection, and I dimmed the lights with a quick Spell.

One of Tabula's favorite movies, huh? This was sure to be interesting. Here's to hoping I survive without being mentally scarred.

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