"No, thank you," she answered instantly, her voice soft but firm. "My Master needs my services. And I wish to serve no other man. Sincerely."
Then she leaned slightly toward me as she spoke, her silver hair brushing my shoulder, and her robe slipping just enough to reveal the elegant line of her collarbone and the soft swell of her breast beneath the fabric.
Her pale fingers possessively, and almost tenderly, rested lightly on my forearm.
The gesture was small, but unmistakable: I was convinced—she wasn't going anywhere.
Vaelora pouted immediately, reaching up to tug Suwaira's cheek.
"I'm sorry, I was jesting!!" he cried, his massive hands raised in surrender.
That instant refusal… the way she'd said "my Master needs my services" without hesitation…
It made something warm bloom in my chest…
Hm… it feels fuzzy.
But unexpectedly, Eirene's face flushed bright pink.
[Idiot mortal, I was tasked to look after you, in any case… Don't get sentimental with me.]
Hehe. Understood.
But then, something even weirder occurred:
"Wahhh!! Lady Nova!" it cried out, "I got slashed and reduced to mist!"
"Lady" Nova?
Anyway, that small black cat from earlier shimmered, its body dissolving into dark vapor, then reformed.
But now a young girl stood there, stark naked, voluptuous, and pretty cute, hugging Nova.
Short, glossy black hair framed a heart-shaped face, with big amber eyes, and tiny fangs peeking past full lips.
Her skin was pale with a faint grayish undertone, like moonlight on ash. Her breasts were heavy and round, with sexy nipples dark and pointy in the chiefly hall for all to see.
And I definitely saw.
Narrow waist flared into wide hips and thick thighs that pressed together shyly.
A fluffy black tail swished behind her; with small cat ears twitching atop her head.
The sigil on her forehead glowed faintly; three interlocking crescent moons in dark purple.
She blinked up at Nova, then at the whole room.
Later, she looked down to find her new body, and her arms instinctively and slowly pressed over her chest; however, it did not hide anything—it only pushed her breasts higher, the cleavage spilling between her forearms.
The hall was dead silent.
"Ah, yes," Eirene added softly, "I changed its gender. Master can't possibly pound and inseminate a male cat, now can he?"
"Eh? But he can, too." Sora replied innocently.
"...Well, this is not that kind of novel." Eirene shrugged.
Okay, yes. I understand now; I'm in another world. stop breaking my common sense.
***
I've spent two days in Obsidian Hollow so far, and it's been… let's say, it's been educational.
Right now I'm in the training grounds—an open-air circle at the edge of the village, ringed by jagged black rocks and wooden fences that look like they've been carved from the wasteland itself.
The ground is hard-packed dirt, scuffed and scarred from years of footwork and impacts.
Wooden posts stand at intervals, some wrapped in vines for grip training, others topped with straw dummies riddled with arrow holes.
A few low platforms for sparring dot the space, and at the far end sits a row of targets—thick logs painted with concentric circles, backed by earthen mounds to catch stray shots.
The sun beats down mercilessly, turning the air hazy with heat; sweat hangs in the atmosphere like a fog, mixing with the scent of dry dust and oiled leather.
Distant village sounds filter in—children laughing, hammers on wood—but here it's all grunts, thuds, and the occasional shout of correction.
Okay, I'm supposed to be learning magic...
A while back, the chief had pulled me aside in the hall.
"But Master Shirogane," Suwaira had said, frowning as a few younger elves edged away from me during a meal, "can you not do something about your inhuman aura? Most of the elves here are not very strong, and the pressure is disturbing."
"…Sorry, I can't," I'd replied honestly.
"Hahaha! So you're like an egoist who would rather flaunt their power, eh?"
"No, I just can't." I'd shaken my head. "I mean… I don't know anything about magic and stuff either."
"…Are you a baby?!" he'd yelled, with his eyes wide. "Learn it at once! How did you even defeat Sethia at all?"
(Note: Sethia is Seth's new maiden name. And also, yes—they accepted the racial and gender flip rather easily.)
Well, here I am—trying out magic. And though Eirene was doing something to hide my aura, it still spilled out a little.
Actually, I've been learning magic since two days ago, but I wanted to really use it now.
Magic itself isn't hard, at least not in theory. It weighs on two things:
Raw magic power and imagination power.
You pull energy from inside—like drawing breath, but deeper, from your soul—and shape it with your mind, like trying to think about the shape of something.
If you want fire, picture flames. If you want wind, Imagine a gust.
The stronger your magic power, though, the bigger the effect; but the clearer your image is, the more precise the result will be.
Simple, right?
Well, it was supposed to be…
But watching the elves train makes it hard to focus, damn it!
The open-air center is alive with motion; dark elves of all ages practicing martial arts under the sun.
The kids and young elves mix in groups: some drilling basic stances, feet stamping dust into clouds; others sparring lightly, wooden staffs clacking together.
The older kids lead them—calling out forms, correcting grips, demonstrating throws that send partners tumbling with controlled grace.
And the bodies… Oh, goddess Asherah, the bodies were like magnet to the eyes.
Sweat-slicked brown skin gleams everywhere—toned arms flexing as a young woman pulls back a bowstring, her cropped top riding up to expose the underside of heavy breasts that sway with the draw.
Thighs strain and release as another leaps a low hurdle, short skirt flipping to flash plump ass cheeks that clap softly on landing.
GULP!