What Phong had said in the kitchen worked far better than he intended.
He had not even meant to say it out loud. It had just slipped free in that dangerous, tired way truth sometimes did when a person got too comfortable and forgot he was talking to his girlfriend's father.
But somehow, after that, the mood shifted.
That night, in Alex's room, Alex was gentler.
Not less affectionate, not any less hungry for him, but she was gentler.
She showed him, with the same quiet certainty she brought to everything she cared about, that she could meet him at his pace when she wanted to. The way she had after the Black Ant siege, when the world had been too bruised and too raw for anything rougher. Her hands were softer. Her kisses slower. She did not corner him under her pace and strength until he forgot his own name. She let him breathe. let him answer, stay present instead of just surviving her.
Which only confirmed what Phong already knew.
Alex could be kind.
She just enjoyed making him exhausted far too much.
In her heart, on every one of their love nights, she was apparently roleplaying some kind of smug succubus who took pride in draining the life out of one very willing farmer.
Phong was both fond of this and deeply betrayed by it.
The next morning, he got his revenge.
A little.
At breakfast, with Papa and Mama Vogel both present and the table warm with bread, coffee, sausage, and the easy comfort of a family meal, Phong cleared his throat and asked in the most serious voice he could manage, "So. Hypothetically."
Alex looked up at once, suspicious.
Papa Vogel lowered his cup. Mama Vogel narrowed her eyes in interest.
Phong continued, "Do either of you have child-raising pointers to give."
Silence.
Then Papa Vogel blinked. "What?"
Mama Vogel put down her knife very carefully. "What kind of hypothetical is this?"
Phong, still keeping the same grave tone, said, "It may become relevant for the elves."
Alex leaned back in her chair and just shrugged.
"Considering you introduced Rico to caffeine just to bathe him," she said, "I think it's a reasonable question."
Phong groaned immediately, all dignity gone in one hit.
Mama Vogel laughed into her coffee.
Papa Vogel stared at him across the table with the look of a man who had accepted many strange things about this young couple and now regretted ever thinking there might be a limit.
Rico, who was stealing a bit of breakfast from Bruno's side of the table, lifted one paw. "I was manipulated."
"You were greasy," Phong muttered.
"I was free."
"You smelled like sewer coffee."
"That is true charm."
Nyx churned her nose at the racoon definition of "charm".
Mama Vogel shook her head, still smiling. "Well, if you are somehow serious, then the first rule is patience."
Papa Vogel nodded. "And routine."
"Also boundaries," Mama Vogel added, giving Alex a pointed look that somehow made Alex look accused.
Alex raised both hands. "What did I do?"
Mama Vogel did not answer that, which was probably for the best.
Phong accepted the defeat with what little grace he had left and focused on breakfast instead, though Alex kept looking far too pleased with herself across the table.
After breakfast, Emma brought them to a private gym.
It was not the kind of place Phong would ever have found on his own. It was too clean, too polished, too expensive looking without being flashy about it. The sort of place built for people with money, connections, or both. Somewhere along the way, Emma had apparently decided the team needed better space than camp clearings and improvised fields if they were going to think about a national tournament.
By the time Phong, Alex, and the others arrived, most of the group was already there.
Séline. Camille. Alexei. Vanessa beside Selena. Dominic and Janet. Joanne. Jake and Jack.
The guys were almost instantly distracted by the equipment.
Not all of them equally, but enough.
Rows of machines, weighted rigs, treadmills, specialized target walls, enough polished metal and carefully made mechanics to make Jake whistle and Jack stare with open respect. Dominic looked like he might start a sincere relationship with one of the heavier stations if left unsupervised.
The women, meanwhile, cared about one thing.
The combat simulation area.
It took up nearly a third of the space, ringed in layered lines of formation work that shimmered faintly when Phong looked at them too long. Emma explained that it had been built by people with Architect and Formation Master classes so combat skills used inside would not turn lethal. Damage could still hurt, still throw people around, still tire and strain them, but the area itself would keep things from crossing into real killing force.
Joanne stepped in first and looked around with naked greed. "Oh, this is nice."
Camille nodded once. "Useful."
Vanessa said nothing, but Selena was already explaining possibilities to her in a low, excited voice.
Emma waited until everyone had gathered near the edge of the simulation field before stepping forward.
Then, with all the practiced ease of someone who had spent a lot of her life standing where eyes would be on her, she said, "There's something the rest of you should understand if we're doing this properly."
The room quieted.
Emma lifted one hand.
Three ethereal blades appeared around her in a ring of pale light.
They were beautiful in a way that was hard to separate from danger. Thin, elegant, almost translucent, each sword humming with a different tone. Floating beside each blade was a musical note formed of glowing script.
Do.
Re.
Mi.
Phong blinked.
Emma looked from one face to the next, then said, "My class is Swordsmaestro. It evolved from Songblader when I hit level thirty."
Jake let out a low breath. "That is a very Emma class."
Emma ignored that.
She raised her chin and sang one clear note.
The blade marked Do vibrated at once.
A pulse spread out across the simulation area, soft but unmistakable. Phong felt it hit his body like warmth sinking into his muscles. A clean, heavy lift in physical force.
"Do grants strength," Emma said.
She sang again, this time higher.
The blade marked Re rang in answer, and a different pulse passed through them. Phong felt his balance sharpen, his body seeming lighter and quicker without actually moving.
"Re grants dexterity."
Then the third.
Mi.
The pulse from that one settled into the body in a denser way. Tougher. Grounded. Like bones and muscle had both just been quietly reinforced.
"Mi grants constitution."
Silence followed for half a beat while everyone understood what they had just felt.
Then Emma gave them the number.
"Each sword buffs one stat by thirty percent. They stack with each other. And they stack with other buffs."
Janet's jaw dropped.
Jake looked at Emma like she had just pulled a war crime out of her pocket. Joanne whispered something rude and admiring under her breath. Even Alex shivered lightly beside Phong.
That reaction made sense.
Thirty percent was huge.
More than Snow Lime.
More than Stoic Garlic.
Phong knew that better than anyone. His best stable buff plants were strong, but this was bigger. Cleaner too, in some ways. Direct. Immediate. Battlefield wide as long as people could hear her.
Emma, however, did not look smug.
Just matter-of-fact.
"There's a catch," she said.
Of course there was.
She lowered one hand and one of the blades dimmed slightly.
"My skills are extremely mana intensive. The cost rises hard when I run multiple effects at once." She pointed to Do. "If I maintain one buff, I can last maybe ten minutes at best."
Then she let all three blades hum together for a second, the notes brightening as the air itself seemed to tighten around them.
"If I run all three at the same time," she said, "I can hold it for about one minute."
That changed the mood again.
Alex folded her arms, eyes closed as if to process the many thoughts she had.
"That's why," she then said quietly.
Emma glanced at her. "Why what."
"Why you didn't really dive until you were with Josh."
The room stayed still.
Alex continued, sharp as ever.
"Your buffs are too short for most normal encounters. Too expensive to sustain through long fights unless the team is built around protecting and exploiting that one minute." She tilted her head. "Outside of that, you would burn through yourself too fast and end up useless once the window closed."
Emma did not answer right away.
That alone confirmed enough.
Phong looked at her differently after that.
Now he understood why she just stood stunned during that time when Josh accidentally teleported into camp Stymphalian.
She had no real combat experience despite high exp.
Emma was probably escorted and fed all the exp she needed for level 30 on a silver platter.
That explained why Emma had always been rated highly by the government, by institutions, by people who thought in terms of national assets and wartime value. Now the shape of that was obvious.
She was a menace in a war.
If she had a sound system.
If her voice could reach rank after rank after rank of soldiers and divers at once.
Then Emma Tannenbaum stopped being just one strong diver.
She became a stats nuke.
Strength. Dexterity. Constitution. Thirty percent each, for thousands of people, maybe even ten of thousands.
Her voice could cover miles if properly broadcast, and she would be safely hidden away in some bunker, behind layered defense, unreachable by direct means.
No wonder she was valued so highly.
She shone brightest not in a corridor fight or a dungeon room.
But in war.
Emma saw them understanding and gave a small, dry smile.
"The government likes me because I look much better on a battlefield map than in a hallway."
Joanne whistled. "That is disgusting."
"Efficient," Camille corrected.
"Both," Séline said.
Vanessa, who had been quiet until now, looked at Emma with a more careful sort of respect. Selena too, though her expression had already shifted into proper field-test. Phong was quietly thinking about risks management for letting Emma joined the team.
Dominic rubbed his chin. "So if we use you right, one minute could decide a fight."
Emma nodded. "That's the idea."
Alex looked at her for another second. There was still rivalry there. Maybe even pride. All the usual edges, but now there was something else too: recognition.
Phong stood near the edge of the field with his hands in his pockets and looked at the three glowing swords circling Emma, each marked with its note, each carrying enough value to change the shape of a battle if used right.
But letting her joined team Nemean would also mean more politicians eyes would be put on them.
And the last thing he wanted was more gaze from the elite anywhere near him, and his camp.