Chapter 470: Breeding Habits and Battle Plans
I stepped out of the shower, trailing steam like a guilty conscience made manifest.
The mirror had fogged over completely, transforming into a blank white canvas that reflected nothing.
Good.
I didn’t particularly need to confront my own face right now.
Sixty-eight hours remained until Reyna.
Sixty-eight hours to sohow devise a strategy that wouldn’t result in my imdiate and spectacular death in front of the entire Academy population, broadcast live for the entertainnt of every guild recruiter and faculty sadist on this godforsaken island.
"Master slls significantly better now."
I damn near launched myself out of my skin.
Maki sat perched on the bathroom counter like she owned the place, legs dangling over the edge with the casual confidence of a cat who’d never heard the word "boundaries."
Human form, naturally. Still wearing nothing but my oversized hoodie, which she’d apparently claid as permanent sleepwear. Her bare legs swung idly, and I noticed with a sharp spike of exasperation that she had, once again, decided that underwear was a suggestion rather than a requirent.
"How the actual hell did you get in here?"
"Door." She pointed at the closed—and supposedly locked—bathroom door with the air of soone explaining basic physics to a child. "It has a handle. Very convenient human invention. I approve."
"I locked that door. Specifically. With intent."
"Locks are rely polite suggestions for those without talent." She hopped down from the counter with feline grace, padding toward
on bare feet. Her golden eyes glead with that particular brand of mischief that ant she was about to say sothing that would age
ten years.
"Master is nervous. Heart rate significantly elevated above baseline. Cortisor levels positively screaming through the taphorical roof. Very detectable."
"I’m fine."
"Master is a liar." She poked my chest with one sharp-nailed finger, right over my heart. "Good thing lying is listed prominently within Master’s registered skillset. Very useful for a scumbag. I approve of this career path."
I grabbed a towel from the rack with perhaps more force than strictly necessary and wrapped it around my waist in what I desperately hoped was a conversation-ending gesture.
"You need to transform back and return to my room imdiately before soone sees you like this and I have to explain why there’s a naked woman in my bathroom."
"Why would Master need to explain? Soomin already knows I exist and has accepted this reality. The purple possessive one knows and has made her territorial displeasure abundantly clear. The ice princess knows and appears largely unbothered by my presence."
Maki counted off on her fingers with the thodical precision of soone presenting evidence.
"The blue healing one will discover the truth soon—her observational skills are improving. And the slutty chain one already suspects sothing interesting is happening in Master’s room at night."
"Don’t call Akari slutty."
"But she objectively is!" Maki’s grin turned absolutely wicked, all sharp teeth and predatory delight. "I can sll it on her. The pheromones don’t lie. She wants Master very badly. Almost as desperately as the purple one, though with considerably less emotional complexity and significantly more imdiate physical intent."
"I am not having this discussion with you. Not now. Not ever."
"Why not? I’m Master’s familiar. It is literally my designated function to be aware of Master’s breeding habits and territorial expansion patterns."
I actively choked on air.
"My what?"
"Breeding habits. Mating rituals. Reproductive scheduling and partner selection protocols." She tilted her head, genuine confusion flickering across her features. "Is Master perhaps stupid? I was under the impression that humans possessed at least rudintary understanding of basic mammalian biology."
"I understand biology perfectly fine, thank you."
"Then why does Master keep depositing his genetic material inside five different females without properly claiming any of them according to standard territorial dominance protocols? It’s very inefficient. I disapprove."
A knock at the door saved
from having to formulate a response to that absolute nightmare of a question.
Natalia’s voice filtered through the wood, sharp and suspicious in that way that ant she knew exactly what kind of chaos was probably happening on the other side.
"Satori. Ergency strategy eting downstairs in ten minutes. Don’t be late."
"Be right there," I called back, shooting Maki a look that clearly communicated transform right now or I’m finding a spray bottle.
"Is that mangy cat in there with you again?"
Maki transford before I could even attempt to construct a believable lie, condensing herself into a sleek black ball of fur and innocence. She sat primly on the counter, two tails swishing with perfect feline disdain, the picture of well-behaved pet behavior.
"Just
and Bartholow having so quality bonding ti."
A long, suspicious silence stretched from the other side of the door.
Then the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway, each step radiating palpable skepticism.
I waited until I couldn’t hear her anymore, counting silently to thirty just to be absolutely certain she wasn’t lurking right outside.
"That was way too fucking close."
Maki transford back with a pleased little shimmy, clearly proud of her performance.
"The purple one is extrely possessive of Master’s attention and ti. I like her. She has excellent territorial instincts. Very cat-like. I approve of her as potential primary mate selection."
"She’s not my mate. She’s territorial because we have a complicated relationship dynamic."
"So is this one." Maki’s eyes glead molten gold in the bathroom’s fluorescent lighting. "But I’m willing to share Master’s attention and breeding opportunities because Master has proven himself worth fighting over. This is high praise. Master should feel honored."
"You’re not fighting anyone. Ever. That’s a direct order."
"Yet." She grinned with far too many teeth. "Master said ’yet.’ This implies future authorization. I will rember this conversation for legal purposes."
She transford again without being asked, becoming the innocent black cat before I could argue further.
Progress, technically.
I got dressed in record ti, throwing on the first clothes I could find that were both clean and functional. Black joggers that had sohow survived the last three days of brutal training. Gray hoodie that was more comfort item than fashion statent at this point. Shoes that wouldn’t actively fall apart if I needed to run for my life, which seed increasingly likely.
The cat followed
downstairs with both tails swishing in perfect sync, radiating smug satisfaction.
The common room was absolutely packed with bodies.
Everyone had apparently returned from their afternoon supply run, transforming the space into controlled chaos that sohow hadn’t devolved into actual violence yet.
Raphael sat sprawled on the main couch next to Marco and Malachi, already arguing about sothing that would probably result in property damage later. Jai was doing push-ups in the corner because of course he was—the man treated every available surface as potential workout equipnt. Juan stood propped against the wall, sohow managing to sleep standing up through sheer force of will and determination to avoid participating in group activities.
Isabelle perched on the armrest like a queen surveying her chaotic court, reading sothing on her tablet with the kind of focused intensity that suggested either important research or extrely trashy romance novels. The smart money was on both simultaneously.
Hikari bounced the second she spotted , her entire face lighting up with that golden retriever energy that was sohow both endearing and terrifying.
"Satori! You’re alive! You survived! Akari said you fought a Hydra-Lich with nothing but a baseball bat and pure audacity!"
"It was just a normal Tuesday," I said, trying to downplay the absurdity.
"That’s so incredibly cool!" She grabbed my arm with enough force to nearly dislocate my shoulder, her grip like enthusiastic steel. "You have to teach
how to fight giant multi-headed undead abominations! Please please please!"
"Maybe later. When I’m not about to die in three days."
"Promise?"
"Sure. Absolutely. We can schedule your monster-fighting lessons right after my funeral."
She squeezed
in what she probably thought was a friendly hug but felt more like being compressed in a hydraulic press. My ribs creaked ominously. Then she released
and bounced back to the couch, apparently satisfied with this arrangent.
Emi erged from the kitchen carrying enough food to feed a small army or one particularly stressed college student. Pancakes. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Toast. Hash browns. Three different types of jam. She’d clearly been stress-cooking again, which ant her anxiety about Wednesday had reached critical levels.
"Satori! You need to eat imdiately!" She thrust a loaded plate at
with the kind of aggressive maternal energy that brooked no argunt. "You barely ate anything yesterday!"
"I ate. That sandwich was perfectly adequate."
"A single sandwich doesn’t constitute proper nutrition for soone who’s about to fight an A-Rank prodigy!"
Skylar materialized at my elbow like she’d been summoned by the sll of drama and breakfast foods.
"She’s been cooking since six this morning," she inford
in her characteristic deadpan.
"It’s barely eight."
"Exactly." Skylar stole a piece of bacon directly off my plate with zero remorse. "So people process existential anxiety through music or ditation. Emi processes through aggressive carbohydrate production. We’re all coping in our own ways."
Celeste sat at the dining table with Noah standing sentinel behind her chair, silent and watchful as always. Monica occupied the corner whispering sothing to Ferdinand that involved a lot of hand gestures and concerned expressions. Akari lounged on the loveseat filing her nails with studied casualness that didn’t quite hide the tension in her shoulders.
Natalia stood by the window, arms crossed, watching
with those intense purple eyes that seed to see straight through every defense I tried to construct. The white streaks in her hair caught the morning light, making her look simultaneously ethereal and dangerous.
I crossed the room to her position, weaving through bodies and conversation.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself." She turned slightly, not quite facing
but acknowledging my presence. "You pulled the gacha last night. Don’t try to deny it."
"How the hell did you know that?"
"You have that specific look. The one you get when you’ve done sothing monuntally reckless and are currently waiting to see if it explodes catastrophically in your face." Her hand found mine, fingers interlacing with practiced ease. "I’m learning your tells."
"It worked out. Mostly. No explosions yet."
"This ti it worked out." Her grip tightened fractionally. "Next ti you’re going to ask
first before you do sothing stupid."
"So you can talk
out of it?"
"So I can be physically present when it inevitably goes wrong and I have to save your ass." She paused, sothing softer flickering across her features. "Again."
I squeezed her hand, thumb brushing across her knuckles.
The mont shattered when Braxton walked in looking like death ward over and served on a paper plate. Carn followed two steps behind with her flask already open and half-empty despite the early hour.
"Alright, listen the fuck up," Braxton announced, his gravelly voice cutting through the various conversations. "Tournant officially starts in four weeks. That’s twenty-eight days to stop being an active embarrassnt to my teaching record and this guild’s reputation."
"We’re currently ranked first place," Raphael pointed out with his characteristic aggressive defensiveness.
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