Chapter 69 – Adopted
When they walked through the gate into Lyse’s temple, Maxim was waiting for them. That was fine. What was not fine, was the smug expression on his face.
“Alright, out with it,” Orestis said. “You look far too happy for me to be happy.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Maxim said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “You should know that I spent the rest of yesterday—and most of the night—scattering fragments of my life force to map out every possible collection point in the area and beyond.”
He released a stream of mana into the air between them, forming a translucent map of the Nomyra region rendered in pale blue light. The main city and the surrounding villages were marked with small dots, but they were not the focus.
And then, he added one dot, glowing gold with divine power, at the location of convergence point where they had found the hidden life crystal.
Orestis scowled, immediately realising what this was about.
Maxim gestured grandly towards the map. “Behold the fruits of my labour—easy labour mind you, but it still counts.”
Then, one by one, more golden points appeared on the map until there were fifteen in total—ten arranged in a rough circle, with five more within, forming an inner ring.
But Maxim wasn’t done. With a grin and a flourish, he drew lines connecting the dots.
The result? A perfect pentacle—a circle with an inscribed five-pointed star, the inner points marking the intersections.
It would seem that a certain lich had far too much free time on his hands.
I’m going to have a word with that fool, Orestis thought, shaking his head with disapproval.
“Those nodes can’t possibly all be on convergence points,” Eirene said, contemplatively.
“They’re not,” Maxim confirmed. “Only seven of them are. Though, for what it’s worth, the rest are still on the mana stream’s pathways.”
Maxim dismissed the projection with a wave and said, with undisguised satisfaction, “You realise what this means.”
Orestis rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. You won the wager.”
Eirene, standing beside him, said nothing—but the faint curve at the corner of her mouth suggested she was enjoying this.
“You lost too,” he pointed out, not seeing why she should be amused by this.
“It’s a very sad development,” Maxim said, nodding. “But as the winner, I have to decide on the terms. And I’ve decided that the losers cannot complain about the winner’s behaviour for a week.”
“That is unreasonable,” Orestis responded. “Your very existence is inherently objectionable.”
“Too bad,” Maxim said cheerfully. “Sounds like you’ll have to develop some self-control.”
Orestis turned to Eirene, looking for support.
She looked back at him with composed neutrality and said, “You did agree to the wager.”
“That’s easy for you to say; you rarely need to complain about him.”
“That’s true,” Eirene agreed, in a tone that conveyed sympathy without actually providing any.
Then, through the mental link, Lyse sent: She has a point, you know. A wager is basically a contract. You should honour it.
“Fine,” he said. “Let’s just go.”
The day has barely started, and it’s already shaping into a terrible one.
***
Since the temple was hardly the ideal place to train, they had chosen to go to the forest clearing outside Orthessa—the usual place, basically. Eirene thought it was a pity; they’d managed to train at their house only once since they got it.
Maxim remained a silent observer as she and Orestis began their routine.
Eirene cast what she’d started calling the ‘training spell’ on herself. It had three components: one to monitor her vitals, one to apply pressure, and one that created a healing field. Orestis cast the same spell on himself as well before they both began the exercises.
Their routine—the physical movements, at least—had not changed much since the first day. The spells they used, however, had gone through quite a few changes.
Back when they first started, they had cast a monitoring spell first, followed by a pressure field that pushed down on the body. They trained after, keeping an eye out and adjusting the pressure manually as needed. Afterwards, they cast the modified healing spell.
It was effective, but crude. Too many spells and steps, Orestis had said. Over the sessions since, he had iterated on it, combining the spells and refining them in the process.
The pressure field now incorporated variable resistance that adapted to her movements rather than applying uniform force. The monitoring and healing components had also been woven directly into the training spell, preventing the need to cast all three separately.
It also maintained a low-grade regenerative field running continuously underneath the pressure, repairing microtears and stabilising her aura channels without eliminating the productive strain.
The result was a system that maximised useful stress while preventing unnecessary damage. She could train longer, harder, and with less downtime between sessions. It was, in a word, elegant.
Although both of them had cast the same spell, the intensity they used was different. Her goal was to improve and increase her aura. Orestis’s was calibrated for mobility and flexibility rather than aura development. He trained his body to stay functional; he still refused to activate any aura and increase his lifespan.
Maxim watched from a fallen log nearby, observing without interfering. For the first few minutes, he said nothing—just tracked their movements with the attentive focus of someone who was cataloguing everything he saw.
“Simple,” he said eventually. “But effective. Modifying the healing so the body is restored stronger is a nice touch. The layered healing field also saves a significant amount of time compared to the conventional stop-and-heal approach.”
“It’s adapted from the training methodology that Kallistrate’s temple developed for their soldiers,” Orestis said. “The core principle is sound once you strip out the doctrine and fix everything else.”
Maxim’s eyebrows rose. “You have the original documentation?”
Instead of answering, Orestis drew on divine power and opened a small gate beside him. Without even glancing inside, Orestis used an unstructured spell to reach through and retrieve a stack of papers from within the gate, and then pushed them toward Maxim while closing the gate.
And he did it without interrupting his workout for a single second.
Despite the feats of magic she’d seen from him—especially during their spars—the casual competence and ease he displayed while doing such simple things was still impressive to her.
Maxim took the documents and began flipping through them. His eyes moved across each page for barely a second before moving to the next. She knew he was reading every single word on each page. The ability to process information at that speed was possible only because he had attained the level of Exemplar with aura—or maybe even exceeded it.
It was another unintentional display of mastery. Amusingly, both Orestis and Maxim were at such heights that neither found anything unusual in the other’s actions.
“Wow, who came up with this garbage?” Maxim asked as he opened a gate next to him. It looked like he used the same coordinates Orestis had. He looked through, then tossed the documents in before closing the gate.
“You just heard me say it came from the temple,” Orestis replied.
“I meant which individual. There was no credit given anywhere in the document.”
That was not surprising; institutions like Kallistrate’s temple didn’t assign credit to individuals. For one, it would prevent any individual from gaining enough recognition to challenge the hierarchy. For another, it would shield the leadership from accountability when things go wrong.
Saying ‘the Temple developed this methodology’ was both a power move and a liability shield. In this instance, though, not having a single person to blame would end up working against them.
“You know, I never bothered to check,” Orestis replied. “Not like it matters.”
“Perhaps not,” Maxim said. “But it does explain why the soldiers are developing Stage IV complications. The methodology is seriously flawed.”
Then he added, almost offhandedly, “Too bad you have no intention of regressing. We could go back and prevent this from being used on Kallistrate’s soldiers entirely.”
Orestis did not respond or look up from his routine. But something crossed Orestis’s face. Briefly—there and gone in the space of a breath. Was it guilt? Something else? She couldn’t be sure.
However, Eirene knew what his choice would be even if Orestis did go back. He would not prevent the temple’s methodology from being implemented, because that would hinder his plans for revenge against them. She didn’t agree with that choice—not entirely—but she understood it.
She didn’t change her expression or pause her training. Because she did not want it to come across as an accusation.
Maxim stood and said, “Well, I’ll head back to the villages. The training seems reasonable; no point in me staying longer.”
“Satisfied with my methods now?” Orestis asked.
“Of course not,” Maxim replied. “Your training methods are, and always have been, terrible. You can’t claim credit for this one since you didn’t even come up with it on your own.”
When Orestis made a face, Maxim turned towards him with an expression of exaggerated innocence.
“What? Could it be that you have some complaints?” he asked, emphasising and stretching out that last word. A reminder about the lost wager.
Orestis only scowled harder and said, “Just leave already.”
Maxim chuckled, looking extremely pleased with himself, then teleported away.
Once he was gone, Eirene playfully asked, “How difficult is this going to be for you?”
“I can always avoid the idiot for the rest of the week,” he replied, his expression still carrying hints of sourness.
“Did you forget he’ll be joining us every morning for training?”
Orestis paused mid-stretch. Held the position for a second. Then sighed, resumed, and said, “I’ll just avoid him the rest of the time.”
Eirene held back a smile.
True to his word, after training ended, Orestis really did disappear for the rest of the day. She only saw him again at the house late that evening.
***
The next morning, they gated to the demon continent.
Maxim looked around and smiled with recognition. “Ah, the Vrindha forest. Been a while. So, what do you guys plan on doing here?”
“Working on my spell proficiency,” Eirene answered. “Practising on spindle hydras.”
“They are called sarpadya around here,” he replied offhandedly. Then he asked, “What specifically are you working on?”
“Control and adjustment. My goal is to restrain the main body and the individual serpent forms during the split without causing any harm.”
Maxim nodded. “Makes sense. That burst of speed when they scatter is the hardest part to deal with.”
Eirene cast a detection spell and began walking toward the nearest cluster of life signatures that matched the hydra’s profile. She led the way, navigating through the undergrowth with practised ease. Orestis followed in his usual observer’s role—present but uninvolved unless something required his attention.
She found one within a few minutes; a seven-headed specimen, coiled between two fallen trunks, three heads already risen to investigate their approach. She deployed the gravity field the moment she saw it.
The hydra reacted instantly, seven serpentine forms scattering outward in every direction. But she was ready. She expanded the gravity field in a rapid pulse, catching five of the seven before they cleared the effective range.
The remaining two had slipped away due to the field not being strong enough at the edges; she had erred a little too much on the side of caution again.
Five out of seven was not ideal, but it was still good considering the fact that she was no longer using her strings to assist. And the ones she had a hold of had not suffered any injuries—internal or otherwise—which, in her opinion, was always the more important factor.
While the two free serpents circled at a distance, hissing, she released everything and stepped back. The serpents lost interest and began recombining after a while.
“Interesting application of gravity,” Maxim said. He’d been watching with his arms folded, head tilted. “Did Orestis teach you that spell?”
“Only the base form,” Orestis said. “She’s the one who modified it to what it is now.”
Maxim looked at her, impressed, and nodded slowly. “Not bad.”
She returned the nod to acknowledge the compliment and continued. Eirene fought three more hydras over the course of an hour, refining her timing and force distribution with each attempt.
At the end, Maxim said to Orestis, “That was surprising.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t lure in a horde, awaken some ancient monstrosity, or trigger a single natural disaster during her training.”
Eirene glanced between the two. She had a feeling Maxim was not being rhetorical with those examples.
Orestis opened his mouth—then closed it. Eirene watched him visibly suppress whatever he wanted to say, probably because it fell into the category of complaints. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile.
Although, if she was being honest, she thought that a horde or stampede might actually be helpful for her practice. And she was a bit curious about seeing an actual ancient monstrosity.
A natural disaster would be too much, though; thanks to the sparring, she had a pretty good idea of what it would feel like to be in one of those.
***
After they returned to Orthessa and Eirene had cleaned up, she teleported to the forest where the mauthet waited.
Eleuthera would sometimes join if she felt like it, but Eirene was alone this time. She followed the established routine: channel profane power, saturate a shadow, wait.
The mauthet appeared almost immediately. There was no hesitation this time—not that there should be. She had been feeding it twice a day for several days now, after all. She liked to think that there was some trust between them now.
It emerged from beneath its fallen log and padded toward the saturated shadow with a confidence that hadn’t been there three days ago. Walking out in the open instead of using the shadows to move.
It pulled the saturated area into a tendril of shadow, bit into it, pulled it free, and chewed while watching her.
Yes, definitely less wary. Much more curious.
A moment later, it suddenly slipped into the shadow beneath it and vanished.
Eirene didn’t think much of it since the creature did that sometimes. She expected it to reappear at its usual position beneath the log. But then, it surprised her by emerging from the shadow cast by her body.
She froze, feeling something dangerously close to delight.
The late morning sun cast a fairly long shadow, and the mauthet had emerged near the edge of it. Meaning, it was still an arm’s length away—but that was still a lot closer than it had ever willingly approached before.
The mauthet was sitting still, staring up at her with its luminous green eyes. Then its tail swished once against the ground.
She crouched slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. The mauthet did not retreat, which she took as a positive sign. For several seconds, neither of them moved; they simply watched each other quietly, cautiously. It flicked its tail once more.
Tentatively, she extended her hand towards it. The mauthet looked at her hand, then sank into the shadow again.
Eirene tried not to feel disappointed at that. And then, the next moment, the mauthet emerged from the shadow cast by her hair and settled itself on her shoulder. It even tucked itself comfortably against her neck, as though it belonged there.
The fur was impossibly soft.
Eirene found herself grinning. Completely, helplessly grinning. It was the kind she couldn’t have suppressed even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t.
She raised her hand and tried to pet it again. This time, the mauthet let her, pressing its head into her palm. And then it began to purr!
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
“You’re dangerously adorable, you know that?” she quietly informed it. The mauthet only blinked at her lazily, looking entirely unconcerned.
Eirene smiled and scratched the top of its head, then sent through the link: I’m surprised you still haven’t shown up.
Suddenly, Eleuthera was standing beside her, beaming. “I was letting the both of you have your moment. Congratulations on getting adopted.”
The mauthet turned its head towards the goddess, seemed to tense slightly, but it did not react otherwise. Eirene wasn’t sure if it was because it had seen Eleuthera before, or because it felt safe on her shoulder. She wanted to think it was the latter.
Eirene smiled. “Thank you. I was actually hoping for your opinion on choosing a name for it.”
“Her,” Eleuthera corrected. Then, her expression softened slightly. “While I’m happy that you thought of me, this is one of those things that should stay entirely yours.”
Eirene nodded. She understood what Eleuthera meant.
And truthfully, she already had a few ideas about the name. She had only asked because this would not have happened without Eleuthera introducing her to the mauthet in the first place. It had felt wrong not to acknowledge that.
She thanked the goddess again, then opened a gate back to the house.
“Come on. Let’s see how you feel about your new territory,” she said to the kitten.
Based on what she’d read, mauthets had no problems living indoors; they were capable of adapting to any environment as long as there were shadows. Most documented complications stemmed less from the creatures themselves and more from how others reacted to sharing space with a shadow predator.
Eirene found herself looking forward to Orestis’s reaction far more than she probably should have.
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