Chapter 38 – Baptism in Blue
The second day starts with Perri already blue.
Not all of her.
Just enough to prove the Slime Meadows still haven’t learned respect.
She stumbles sideways through the tall grass, staff clutched in both hands, white-furred legs slick with splattered goo as two Blue Bubble Slimes wobble after her with those obscene little suction sounds. Yesterday, that would’ve been panic.
Today, she plants.
“Left one first!” I bark.
Perri jerks her staff up, breath hitching once before the prayer catches properly this time.
Sacred Flame.
Golden fire lances down hard enough to burst the first slime mid-hop. Steam and blue splatter kick across her jacket. She flinches, but not all the way. Doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t lose the second target.
Better.
The next slime lunges low for her knees.
Ed moves one step. Only one.
Thorns flex. Vines twitch. He does not intervene.
Perri sees it coming, squeaks anyway, then throws herself sideways and nearly spills in the mud. Her free hand comes up on instinct.
Radiant Shield.
The light barrier flickers into place just as the slime slaps into it with a wet, hateful smack. The shield shudders. Perri gasps. Holds. Then, with a noise halfway between a yelp and a battle cry, she drives her staff forward and sends another Sacred Flame punching through the thing at point-blank range.
It bursts all over her.
Kit would’ve laughed herself sick.
I grin despite myself.
Nearby, Ed stands motionless among the grass and wildflowers, all white bone, black thorns, and red petals, watching her like a patient executioner waiting to see whether he’s needed.
“Messy,” he murmurs.
Perri stands there panting, blue to one elbow, one ear drooping under the weight of slime.
Then she looks over at me.
“I want to try alone this time,” she says, chest still heaving. Her grip tightens on the Ashwood Prism Staff. “Without Ed.”
My brow lifts.
Behind her, Ed does not move.
Perri swallows and forces the rest out before her courage can fail her. “Not gone,” she says quickly. “Just... on standby.”
I nod once and cut a glance toward Ed.
She nearly gets it right, which is the worst part.
Three slimes this time, not two. Perri squares up with the staff in both hands, breathing too fast but trying to hide it, and for the first few seconds it actually looks like she might pull it off. One bursts under Sacred Flame before it gets close. Another slaps against a hurried Radiant Shield and slides off in a wet hiss. She stumbles, recovers, casts again.
Not clean. Not graceful. But better.
Then the third one hits her arm.
At first it doesn’t look like much, just a wobbling blue slap of jelly against her sleeve. But the moment it clings and starts crawling upward, panic rips through the bond so hard it nearly jumps into my own chest. Perri screams, not a battle cry, not even close, a real one, as the slime crawls over her mouth.
Ed moves before I say a word.
One second he’s standing twenty feet away in the grass, holding still under my silent restraint. The next he’s there.
Vines snap forward. Thornlash.
The slime is ripped clean off her so fast it leaves a string of blue goo hanging in the air. Ed catches it mid-pull, crushes it in a knot of thorns and bone, then drops the twitching remains into the dirt like the execution was always inevitable.
Perri staggers back, clutching at herself, breathing like she just outran death. I’m already in front of her.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes are wide. Wet. Humiliated.
“Perri.”
She swallows hard and looks up. My voice comes out firmer now, no softness, no room to hide in it.
“Control the fear. Don’t freeze.” I point at the steaming slime pulp at her feet. “You’re Light, Perri. Burn it.”
Her breath shakes, and I don’t let up.
“It touched your arm and crawled. That’s all. You’re still standing. Your staff is still in your hand. So what do you do?”
She blinks once, then twice. The panic is still there, hot and ugly in the bond, but something else starts fighting its way through it now: pride, anger, embarrassment, enough spine to stand back up.
“I...” Her fingers tighten on the Ashwood Prism Staff. “I burn it.”
“Good. Your own light won’t hurt you.”
Behind her, Ed has already gone still again, vines twitching once before settling back at his sides, waiting, watching, apparently ready to disobey me again if he has to.
Honestly?
Good.
Perri drags in one more breath, shoulders shaking, then steps back into position with blue slime still smeared up one sleeve and fury starting to outgrow fear in her eyes.
That’s better.
Around midday, while Perri is catching her breath and Ed stands watch among the tall grass like some thorn-crowned scarecrow from a fever dream, I reach for Kit and Raka through the bond.
The distance answers immediately.
Not enough for concern, not with Perri still close beside me, but enough to thin something out inside my chest. Like I’m standing just a step off balance. The bond still holds, but at this distance it comes through in pulses, feeling, intent, and flashes of thought, nothing as clear as true bonded telepathy.
Then Kit’s presence brushes back first, quick and bright with excitement, Raka’s steadier pulse right behind it.
They think they found a place.
Not just a room. A place we could live.
Through the bond I catch flashes more than words, Kit’s delight, Raka’s grounded approval, the sense of walls, space, possibility. They’ll tell us everything tonight when we regroup at the Feisty Dwarf.
That alone is enough to put a second wind in me.
Perri catches it through the bond and straightens too.
By the end of the day, she hits Level 4.
Fast, for her. Faster than she ever would have without Ed holding the line and turning every bad mistake into a survivable one.
Power, yes.
Nerves and resolve?
Still getting there.
I flick the HUD open, blue light blooming across my sight, and when her level jumps this time, I feel the shift in her through the bond.
She’s blue to the elbows. Breathing hard.
And trying very hard not to look too proud of herself.
She’s not just surviving the Meadows anymore.
She’s starting to believe she belongs in a fight.
Back at the Feisty Dwarf, dinner runs long, mostly because Kit and Raka are doing a terrible job of hiding how pleased they are with themselves. I feel it through the bond before the words ever come, Kit’s bright little sparks of excitement, Raka’s steadier pulse of approval, and under both of them the same simple truth:
They found it.
By the time the plates are half-cleared, I set my mug down. “Alright. Out with it.”
“Two bedrooms,” Kit says at once, grin sharp. “And a real kitchen.”
Raka nods. “Solid place. Good door. Enough space.”
Perri’s ears lift. “A real place?”
Kit leans forward nodding, tail curling behind her. “One bedroom’s smaller. The other one...” Her smile turns wicked. “Big enough for a proper bed.”
“A harem-sized bed,” Raka adds with a grin.
Perri goes pink so fast she nearly hides behind her mug.
I snort. “That a technical term now?”
“It is now,” Kit says.
I glance between them, then at Perri’s flushed face. “Anything else?”
Kit softens just a little. “It feels right,” she says. “Not fancy. Just... ours.”
The teasing fades under something deeper. Home settles through the bond all at once, bright in Kit, steady in Raka, and almost frightening in how badly Perri wants to believe it. And sitting there with all of them, tired and still faintly smelling of slime, I can almost see it too. But the truth is, my home had already been with them.
That night, up in our room, Kit catches sight of the slime drying on my boots by the bed and smiles, softer than I expect. “Look at you,” she purrs into my ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Slime on your boots again, Master. Almost feels like old times.”
Raka laughs low in her chest as she drops onto the mattress, one heavy arm already reaching for me. Perri goes pink again, clutching her staff like she still hasn’t quite figured out how she ended up here with all of us.
The Harem Bed buff hums softly to life as we settle in together, warmth spreading through the bond in slow, sleepy waves.
No urgency. No heat we have to chase.
Just quiet laughter, tired bodies, shared pride, and the kind of closeness that makes the room feel full in all the right ways.
Tomorrow, we do it again.
The next morning, Perri is still getting slimed, but now she’s starting to play with the fight instead of just surviving it. She feint-casts mid-hop, draws a slime into committing too early, then laughs when Sacred Flame bursts it before it can touch her. That laugh matters. It’s the first sign that she isn’t just enduring the Meadows anymore. She’s starting to enjoy winning.
Ed changes too, in his own unsettling way. He starts mirroring my commands before I finish giving them, shifting position when Perri drifts too far, cutting angles off without being told, reading the flow of the fight like he’s learning us instead of just obeying me. It doesn’t make him less eerie. If anything, it makes him worse. More useful, too.
Somewhere in the middle of the day, the lesson slows.
I kneel behind Perri in the grass, one hand guiding her grip, the other adjusting the angle of the staff while I talk her through the flow of it. “Feel the magic channel from here... through here.”
At first, she tries to focus.
I feel her trying.
Then her breath catches, and the problem stops being the spell.
It’s me.
My hand over hers. My chest almost brushing her back. My voice low enough that the words warm the edge of her ear. The bond hums between us, soft at first, then warmer, and suddenly Perri isn’t paying attention to the lesson anymore. She’s paying attention to my nearness, to the way my body crowds hers, to the way she likes it more than she means to.
Her fingers tighten on the staff for all the wrong reasons.
“Perri,” I murmur.
She makes the softest sound, halfway to a squeak, and startles when she realizes I felt that too. Her ears twitch hard, cheeks already burning.
“S-sorry,” she whispers, not sounding sorry enough to be convincing.
She’s still sweet. Still soft. Still new enough that every little thing hits her like lightning under the skin. But this isn’t fear anymore. It’s awareness. Wanting the closeness, wanting me, and not knowing what to do with either once they get under her guard.
That’s a very different lesson.
Meanwhile, Kit and Raka keep filling out the place in town. Not enough to live in yet, but enough that it starts taking shape in pieces. A table first. Then chairs that don’t wobble. Shelves. A washbasin. Curtains Kit insists matter more than Raka thinks they do, with a narrow little balcony just beyond them that lets in light and air when they’re drawn back. Every time I reach for them through the bond, I catch flashes instead of words, Kit’s sharp little bursts of delight whenever something makes the place feel prettier, Raka’s steadier satisfaction whenever something heavy gets hauled into place and stays there.
At dinner each night, they report it back between bites and teasing. The kitchen is small but real. The floor doesn’t creak too badly. The bigger bedroom is definitely the one. Kit says the curtains make the light softer in the afternoon. Raka says the bed frame is sturdy. Kit says that remains to be tested. Perri goes pink every single time.
Bit by bit, while Perri learns how not to panic with a slime on her skin, the two of them are building the shape of what comes after. Not just a room. Not just shelter. Something waiting for us.
By the end of the next two days, Perri hits Level 5.
It doesn’t make her finished. Doesn’t make her ready for Bushman Forest. But it changes something all the same. I can feel it through the bond. She isn’t just surviving the Slime Meadows anymore.
She’s fighting.
Maybe even starting to thrive.
Fastest leveling push I’d ever heard of in the Meadows.
When the sun starts sinking, the four of us end up eating right there in the meadow, bread, cheese, and whatever else we brought stuffed into our packs that morning. Nothing fancy. Just a little victory feast in the grass while the last light turns Perri’s white fur gold and Ed stands nearby like some impossible shadow draped in roses and dusk.
Kit catches a streak of drying blue slime on Perri’s cheek, laughs softly, and wipes it away with her thumb.
Then flicks it straight at Raka.
Raka snarls in mock outrage and lunges, dragging Kit into a headlock while Kit twists and yelps and absolutely deserves it.
And Perri...
Perri giggles.
Then laughs.
Really laughs.
Hard enough that she snorts, then clamps both hands over her mouth in horror while Kit and Raka immediately laugh harder.
That matters more than the level.
More than the spells.
More than the slime.
Because it means she’s here with us now. Really here.
And tomorrow, the apartment will be ready.
Tomorrow, we go home.