Chapter 89: A Beautiful Journey
Her body, however, seemed less and less surprised by these brutal transitions. Mentally, though, the sensation remained disorienting: constantly slipping from one reality into another without ever having the chance to truly rest in either of them.
Blanche finally pushed herself upright with a slight grimace, brushing the snow clinging to her knees.
Then she lifted her eyes toward the endless white expanse stretching before her.
Well.
She might as well make this new infernal day worthwhile.
The game opened its window, apparently approving of her determination.
Stats acquired:
Strength +798
Agility +793
Speed +803
Wisdom +754
Intelligence +794
Drain — Level 5
Flight — Level 5
Carnage — Level 4
Rest — Level 5
Swimming — Level 3
Aura — Level 5
Fear — Level 4
Continued on page 2...
Ninth level: The East, Part 5
Objective: eliminate one thousand goblins.
Time: unlimited.
Reward: to be revealed.
Still exhausted, Blanche sighed.
The fatigue weighed heavily on her shoulders despite her skills, despite "Rest," despite all the absurd improvements her body seemed to be accumulating lately. A deeper weariness lingered beneath it all, less physical than mental, as though her mind itself was beginning to reach its limits from living several lives at once.
The icy wind of the Otherworld swept through her cloak as she stood motionless for a few seconds in the middle of the snow.
Tonight, she had to sleep properly.
Really.
Not three catastrophic hours wedged between two quests.
Not some half-sleep interrupted by a world shift or an improvised mission.
Normal sleep.
The idea felt almost luxurious now.
And for this quest, she would need a real campsite.
Not just a vaguely sheltered rock to collapse beside for a few minutes before returning to fight monsters while half-frozen. No. A real camp. A fire. A secure area. Maybe even several uninterrupted hours of rest if the universe finally decided to grant her a little mercy.
Because even she was beginning to understand there was a difference between pushing her limits... and deliberately sprinting toward complete nervous exhaustion.
Even without classes on Wednesday, she still had a few hours of lectures...
That thought alone earned her a tired grimace.
Her academic life now felt as though it belonged to someone else. She still attended classes, still handed in assignments, still played the role of the perfect student... but inwardly, all of it sometimes felt incredibly distant compared to everything else.
How was she supposed to focus on essays or exercises when she spent her nights surviving in another world?
And Kiyan was supposed to take her to meet her father.
That, however, instantly swept away her fatigue beneath a tension far more difficult to ignore.
Her stomach tightened slightly.
Meeting her father.
The mere thought awakened a terribly tangled mess of emotions. Apprehension. Curiosity. A touch of anxiety as well. And Kiyan would be there.
Of course he would.
Blanche dragged a hand through her hair before releasing a second sigh, even wearier than the first.
Honestly, her existence was becoming ridiculous.
Quests. Monsters. Powers.
An emotionally ambiguous mythological wolf.
Classes.
A meeting with her father.
And probably three more unforeseen disasters before the day ended.
The worst part?
She was starting to get dangerously used to all of it.
"Phénix?" she called.
The panther appeared, carrying what looked like an adjustable saddle.
Blanche touched it, stunned.
"Wow... who made this?"
His name starts with an A and ends with Ron.
"Very funny..." she grumbled, pushing a strand of hair back before climbing onto him.
Though she was seated far more comfortably now, she still missed the softness of his fur and the creature's natural warmth.
Beneath her, however, the saddle offered unexpected comfort, far removed from the crude equipment she had imagined. The thick black leather molded perfectly to the shape of Phénix's back, supple without losing any durability, carrying that deep, reassuring scent of objects painstakingly crafted by hand.
Patterns had been carved directly into the leather.
Dark, elegant arabesques ran along the edges, intertwined with discreet scales and ancient lines vaguely resembling flames or folded wings. From certain angles, the reliefs seemed almost alive, catching the pale light of the winter suns in subtle satin reflections.
Even the straps looked luxurious.
The black metal buckles, finely engraved as well, chimed softly with each movement of the creature. Nothing here resembled ordinary riding equipment: the saddle looked more like a piece specifically crafted for a mythical mount.
And yet...
She still missed direct contact with Phénix.
The sensation of his immense fur beneath her fingers.
The natural heat radiating from him whenever she rode without any barrier between them.
That strange, instinctive closeness that made their journeys almost soothing despite the speed.
There was no harness, but a sturdy wooden grip.
Fixed at the front of the saddle, the dark handle appeared carved from particularly dense ancient wood, polished smooth by time and use. Discreet engravings ran along its surface as well, deep enough to provide excellent grip even with gloves or damp hands.
And thankfully so.
Because she clung to it quickly when Phénix launched into a sprint.
Without warning, the demon surged forward with a wild joy immediately perceptible in every movement. His powerful strides devoured the snow at an absurd pace while the landscape instantly blurred around them.
The cold wind slammed into Blanche full force.
Her red hair was ripped backward, her cloak snapped violently behind her, and the icy air bit at her cheeks with invigorating brutality. Yet Phénix seemed absolutely delighted.
She could practically feel it.
That animal excitement.
That pure pleasure of running freely through the frozen plains of the Otherworld with no goal except speed itself.
His muscles rolled powerfully beneath the saddle with every stride, fluid despite his gigantic size, and soon they crossed the snow like a black shadow racing beneath the twin pale suns.
Despite herself, Blanche eventually smiled.
Because despite the cold, the exhaustion, and the constant danger, moments like these were exhilarating.
He made it yesterday. But I had to wait for Argy to put it on me.
A few meters later, the ground became entirely snow-covered again. Deep powder this time. The air grew even colder.
Lost in thought, Blanche searched for a way to thank Aaron; her imagination was already overflowing.
She could not wait to see him again.
Unfortunately, it would not be now. The moment she arrived at the barracks, she realized he was nowhere to be found. So he still was not sleeping, even after one in the morning?
Phénix stood guard while she took a burning-hot bath in the shower room attached to the barracks locker room.
The demon lay stretched out directly in front of the door, an immense dark mass with half-closed eyes, yet alert enough that nobody would entertain the suicidal idea of disturbing them. His tail occasionally thumped slowly against the tiled floor while he watched over the silent corridors of the barracks.
At that hour, the place was nearly deserted.
Only the low rumble of the pipes and the rush of hot water disturbed the building's calm.
As for Blanche, she had practically melted with relief the moment she stepped beneath the water.