Chapter 163: Thrice Set
For the first time in what felt like centuries, my thoughts were finally my own.
I wouldn't even allow myself to get used to it, but it felt almost strange, after the panic from before. Floating overhead, my mana dispersing and core thrumming, I could finally—well, not breathe, given I was intangible, but pause. Take it all in.
And then, half a moment after that, I shook myself out and turned my gaze back to my floors. Because the only reason I had this brief respite was because I'd fought and bled and damn near died for it, and I wouldn't be allowing that again. Therefore—rebuilding.
My first mission was to prepare for tomorrow; though I could dream that perhaps this twelve-man invasion had blown up the Adventuring Guild to wonderful small pieces of bone and gore, I had to plan for another invasion. The endless cycle of which was my existence. And that meant sending out all those who needed to leave before they would run into anyone else.
Luckily, I was already on the right floor. All I had to do was bob over the lagoon, where kobolds swam back in petulant annoyance that they hadn't gotten to fight Shoth and Aedan before the bastards either ran or were protected, to the human standing awkwardly on the beach.
Nicau stiffened as my mana draped over him, a soothing embrace over his wired self. No combat, because he could learn a lesson or two from Shoth about speed, but there wasn't much to do about that beyond hope he would learn how to evolve more legs.
Low chance of that, unfortunately.
He straightened, stepping further out onto the sand. Over his leather coat were an array of funnel gourds, dried and hollowed out as storage containers. Maybe they would help him bring back more schemas; mostly, they made him look like an over-enterprising fool who hadn't yet shed his past skin. I supposed everyone had their tastes.
"Am I safe to leave?" Nicau asked the sky, shaking some droplets off his hands.