Chapter 28: Tranquility

It had been a day since Nicky left on a mission to the Sylvan Elves. Not the Dark Elves—definitely not—the two peoples hated each other so much that a simple mix-up could start a war. And as if that weren’t enough, the Ice Elves were also in the picture. In short, a cheerful chaos.

He had explained that the journey on foot would be endless—several days—but with his familiar in the form of a unicorn, a magnificent stallion named Ster, short for Stéropès, it would take only a few hours.

Even the name made it feel like he was about to slay a titan before lunch. Even though the beast, being a diva, barely gave him a glance.

Nicky had reassured her: a simple mission. Nothing dangerous. Otherwise, Aaron would have insisted on coming along.

She could have accompanied him, at least for the way there, but the region teemed with trolls, sprites, and other creatures just waiting to shred her. And on the way back, he would vanish on Ster’s back, leaving her alone in hostile lands.

No, it was better to hole up in the barracks and learn. Learn fast. Become stronger.

Strong enough that the thought of “dying in a snowy ditch” would no longer feel like a daily threat.

Riding her familiar, especially: according to Nicky, the next form of Phoenix would be large enough to serve as both a mount and a combat ally. The creature merely rolled its eyes—or pretended to sleep. Hard to tell with that mix of fur and arrogance.

Before leaving, Nicky had given her a full military briefing: how to manage supplies, which journals to read first, how to feed the wood stove, how to produce electricity with the dynamo bike (“yes, Blanche, you’ll pedal for your soup”), and even how to use the laundry without turning her clothes into rags, with almost endearing precision.

So, when he climbed onto Ster, his fur cloak snapping in the wind, his bag full of supplies slung over his shoulder, Blanche decided she could survive a few days on her own. Even if the thought of no longer hearing his jokes tugged a little at her heart.

Nicky swung himself onto his mount with almost insolent ease, a crooked smile already playing on his lips, as if he were about to make an entrance rather than simply leave. There was that playful lightness in his movements that defined him so well—a blend of carelessness and precision, as though he had everything under control without ever seeming to try.

Ster, beneath him, was nothing like an ordinary mount.

The pastel rainbow unicorn seemed almost unreal, like something pulled from a dream too beautiful to belong to the world. Her coat caught the light in soft hues—pale pinks, gentle blues, iridescent reflections that shimmered across her body with every movement. Her mane floated around her neck like a living veil, light and shifting, while her slender, elegant horn gave off a faint glow, subtle and quietly magical.

With each step, she barely seemed to touch the ground, as if gravity itself hesitated to hold her down. And yet, beneath that apparent softness, there was a calm, contained power—perfectly in sync with her rider.

Nicky’s fur cloak snapped in the wind with almost theatrical energy, amplifying every movement, as if he were leaving like the hero of a story only he fully understood. His bag, heavy with supplies, rested casually on his shoulder, yet it didn’t seem to weigh him down in the slightest.

He glanced back, quick and bright—that kind of look that promises a teasing remark, a last-second joke. You could almost hear the words he might have said, a light quip to soften the moment, to keep silence from settling too heavily.

Then he looked away, as if leaving had to remain simple.

The silence settling in already felt heavier than she expected. It wasn’t just the absence of his voice—it was the absence of his energy, his unpredictable remarks, that way he had of making everything feel a little less serious, a little more bearable.

She stayed there a moment longer, motionless, watching his silhouette fade into the distance, carried by Ster’s shifting colors. And despite herself, a quiet, bittersweet thought settled in:

Just a few days… hopefully.

She set about exploring every corner of the building.

Near the office, she came across a massive storage room overflowing with laundry, towels, toothpaste, pens, blank notebooks… So many modern objects that had no business existing here, centuries after the Convergence. How could a place so recent exist in the Otherworld?

Or… Aaron had rebuilt everything. By sheer force of will. Impossible, yet nothing surprised Blanche anymore since her arrival.

A gigantic garage opened to the outside. Rauõr was there, feeding the chickens, the coop seemingly always having been there. The only locked door in the entire barracks was Aaron’s office. She briefly considered picking the lock, then imagined the chief’s reaction.

Bad idea.

She wanted to stay warm.

An overheated greenhouse occupied another room, with a vegetable garden thriving despite the cold outside. Further along, an armory contained only bladed weapons. Aaron seemed to have banned firearms… except for the one on the roof. A last resort, probably.

That night, she slept in a real bed, Phoenix curled against her like a sarcastic heating pad. It pretended to stay there only to “monitor the environment,” but it purred. Literally.

In the morning, a routine took shape. Breakfast, hygiene, dynamo bike, exercise, hot shower, cooking… then magical training.

She would pluck a leaf from a weed stolen from the greenhouse, cast “Drainage” to drain all life from it, place it on the table, and repeat every three to five minutes.

She lightly cut her finger to cast “Rest.”

She hovered above the mess hall, a minute of suspended effort.

And, between breaths, she read the logbooks—technical notes on monsters, combat strategies, mistakes to avoid. Nothing personal. Just… cold, methodical.

But valuable.

The days passed. She mounted late at night, came down exhausted.

She gained thirty precious seconds on “Drainage”: now she could cast it every three minutes thirty. Her flight endurance increased as well. But she lacked the courage to go out and test her altitude. Not alone. Not in this world.

Thanks to the training, her strength, speed, endurance, even her interface, all gained clarity. Her stats climbed. Her body changed too, becoming stronger, more responsive.

She lost all sense of time. Phoenix accompanied her silently, punctuating her efforts with brief, sharp, but always relevant remarks that made her smile.

It was getting closer to her. It knew. She did too.