“Mom,” Mia said, taking a deep breath as she felt her mother’s Air Ward settle around the two of them like a bubble. Helene sat before her on the bed, wearing only her nightclothes and a slightly grouchy expression from having been woken up just minutes into sleeping. That expression instantly gave way to worry as she heard the clear note of desperation in Mia’s voice, and her motherly instincts took over. “I fucked up real bad. I think I’ve been grooming Carmilla without even noticing it.”

  “Explain,” Helene said sternly but not unkindly as she narrowed her eyes.

  Mia did just that. Explaining what she’d just noticed. Then the words just couldn’t stop coming. She talked of the time Camie broke down from just a few sentences Mia’d said in the night she was almost assassinated. She even vaguely described what Camie had told her about her childhood without going into too much detail. Even if she knew Helene would help as much as she could, she didn’t feel right about sharing some of the embarrassing or tragic moments of Camie’s life the girl had shared with her in confidence.

  “I see,” Helene said, having attentively listened to Mia’s words until she ran out of steam. Letting out a long, drawn-out breath, the mother looked up kindly at her daughter and motioned for her to sit, which Mia did. “Mia, honey, this is clearly a mess-up, but neither is it as bad as you seem to think it is and nor did you do it intentionally, nor with any malicious intentions in mind. The first thing you have to do is to stop that guilt from overwhelming you. You messed up, sure, but it was out of the very same lack of emotional intelligence that you failed to notice in Carmilla. Mia, you haven’t had a single proper relationship. You can’t blame yourself for not noticing something earlier if you had no idea what you had to look out for. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have noticed it.”

  “But-” Mia started but was shushed into silence with an imperious wave.

  “I’ll be hearing no ‘but’-s from you, Miss.” Helene glared at her daughter. “Now, if … the situation was any different, if we were back on old earth, in normal society, I’d tell you to go out there right now and break up with her. The girl clearly needs more life experiences by what you’ve told me before she can be in a healthy, committed relationship.”

  Silence hung in the air, and Helene let it simmer. Mia knew there was a ‘but’ coming, but she still felt herself worry her mother would demand she break up with Carmilla, anyway. She had … absolutely no idea how the girl would take that. Would she freak out? Cry? Scream? Run away, never to be seen again? Or would she refuse to break up?

  Mia still remembered the possessive look in her glowing red eyes from their sparring session.

  “But I won’t.” Helene continued with a weary sigh, sending a good-natured glare at Mia. “This isn’t that world anymore. There aren’t therapists on hand, and nobody who’d take care of her. I also see little hope for Carmilla to actually understand why it’d do her some good to actually live a few years away from an emotional crutch like you’ve apparently become for her. Just to experience things. It would also free you from being an emotional support doll for someone for years on end. You might think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy and to have a healthy and loving relationship. As your mother, I can't help but want a proper, mature woman to be your partner, someone who you can rely and depend on, not one you have to step on eggshells around and constantly worry will snap at a wrong word. A breakup might be exactly what both of you would need … but you aren’t going to give up on helping her, are you?”

  “Yes … I don’t want to abandon her just because she might be a bit emotionally immature. She likes me, I can help her. I want to help her; that’s the least she deserves. So what now?” Mia asked, feeling like they had finally reached the question she’d come to her mother for. If breaking up with Camie was what helped the vampire the most, she’d do it. But Mia wouldn’t send her away, not after what she’d done for her, not with how messed up the world was. It was much more likely that Carmilla would spiral if left alone, than not.

  Plus, Mia felt horrible for practically using an emotionally vulnerable woman. She needed to help Carmilla.

  The dressing down beforehand had been inevitable and perfectly deserved, but Mia wanted solutions that weren’t tainted by her own … biases? Was that what they were? “What should I do, Mom?”

  “Firstly, we-” Helene emphasised the word with a glare, “are doing this to help Carmilla. Get that into your head. We are doing this to help her, not to relieve your misplaced guilt. Understood?” Helene asked sternly, though Mia knew the only answer was to nod obediently. She did just that, feeling a new kind of horrible and once again wondering, like many times throughout her childhood, whether her mother had some magical empathic abilities.

  Pegasi weren’t known for reading minds or emotions, but who knew?

  “I’m no therapist,” Helene continued, looking vexed for a moment before she let it go. “But I have the beginnings of an idea. What we will do is this, we have to … “

  *****

  “Report,” Zeigler barked out, not even looking up from the document he’d been reading. The thing had come through the military channels just minutes ago, meant to update him on the overall situation of the country at large. Things weren’t looking good.

  “Yes, sir.” The Sergeant who’d just entered his office snapped into a crisp salute. “The group designated as Alpha Team had finished their assigned task and had been transported safely back to the selected safe-house.”

  “Any complications you feel the need to report?” Zeigler asked, his moustache quivering as he frowned at the document in his hand. Only his expert control over his emotions let him keep his fists from clenching and crumbling up the paper. Salzburg, the third most populous city of the nation, coming right after Vienna and Graz, was gone. Reduced to flaming rubble in the aftermath of the Marshal’s battle with a horde of Drakes.

  “The beastkin came to test them, just as you suspected they would, Sir.” The Sergeant spoke cleanly; finally, a good one that knew how respect and hierarchy worked.

  Zeigler didn’t blame the ones whose fuses ran short in these trying times, even if he often wanted to bash their heads in. Most of them could only hope that their families were safe and alive, and that was sure to spread anxiety and discontent among the troops.

  “Details, Sergeant.” Zeigler didn’t even look up, breathing a soft sigh as he read further. Linz and Vienna were as secure as they could be, and the Marshal was now going through the northern Alps to cleanse the cities and towns spread around there of their monster population.

  “A lizardman with ten canine beastkin following him accosted them on their path,” the Sergeant said. “The whole altercation started with Miss Vexley detecting and capturing a … invisible beastkin who was following them. The lizardman wanted the captured man back, the group wanted answers, and the lizardman ended up duelling Mr Brent. The latter won handily, and the lizardman answered their questions, after which they both went their own way.”

  “I want a danger assessment of both the lizardman and the ‘invisible’ beastkin on my desk by the end of tomorrow,” Zeigler said. “Thank you for your report, Sergeant. Well done. You may leave; get some rest.”

  “Sir.” The sergeant saluted again, then turned and left, leaving Zeigler alone in his room with only Kelvin scribbling something at his own desk.

  “Add that lizardman onto the high-priority targets list,” Zeigler said. “If those bastards dared to send him against Alpha Team, he must be one of their heavy hitters.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Kelvin said. “I will have people following him. Would you like to make use of Gunner Ferrik’s abilities? I’m sure we can collect some of the blood drying on the ground where the duel took place?”

  “Why not?” Zeigler shrugged. “At least we’ll know whether the young man’s ‘divination’ magic is worth investing in. You have my leave to proceed, Kelvin. Have at it.”

  The young Gunner Ferrik’s magic was not the most flashy, and it had only shown itself as something unusual days ago. Maybe that was why the Marshal let him stay with Zeigler, and not because his Class was useless?

  Still, with the weeks trudging on, Zeigler was growing to understand that even the weak Classes that were under the Marshal’s notice could make a difference if put to use in a way to leveragedtheir strengths.

  It would be a damned chore, and would break the uniformity of the army, but Zeigler knew that refusing to adapt was to consign oneself to death in this ever changing world.

  Every platoon would be unique in the way they fought, every member of every platoon adding something to the whole. One would make shields of magic, others would enhance bullets to explode on impact while others yet would put up walls of magic that made bullets passing through them fly faster.

  The loss of a single trooper could have the whole thing come crashing down, which felt antithetical to Zeigler’s military sensibilities. It was a huge point of failure, but deep down, he knew it had to be done.

  Magic and these other abilities granted by the System were the only thing that let them go toe-to-toe with the bloodthirsty monsters now populating their world.

  The world was changing, and if they didn’t adapt, they would die. Old habits and doctrine had to be discarded, or at least adapted to fit the new circumstances. He had to either embrace magic or accept the certain death that refusing to do so would result in.

  Zeigler grabbed his notebook and another paper. In the first, he had every archetypal magic or skill his troopers had noted down, and in the second, he was going to write down setups and compositions that seemed viable for various combat encounters.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  It would likely take many iterations until he managed to come up with something workable, but he had to start somewhere. From here on out, he would have to rely on trial and error. Deaths and failures would surely come, but he had to trust the process and that his troopers would come out at the other end stronger and more prepared to face whatever this new world would dare throw at them.

  *****

  Carmilla didn’t know what exactly had Mia so spooked. It had been three days now since that night, and she only got some surface level understanding of it.

  A part of her was beating herself over the fact she actually kept to her promise and didn’t listen in on the conversation Mia had with her mother, but she knew that would have been a severe breach of trust. One Mia likely wouldn’t have forgiven easily and would have never forgotten.

  At first, she’d been worried, anxiously waiting for the shoe to drop, for something to happen. What was Mia so worried about? Was there something wrong with Carmilla? Did she sleepwalk? Did her vampiric instincts take over at night? Did she go on bloodthirsty rampages like werewolves at every full moon, and she just didn’t remember? Did they already have some mangled bodies and were just preparing to confront her about it?

  Maybe they were already wondering how to put her down, like she was some mad beast ... well, they wouldn't be wrong to wonder if she did go on sleep-rampages instead of sleepwalks. She couldn't blame them for that, but nor was she willing to die. She would not die. Not when she finally healthy. Not when she could finally go see the world, experience stuff she'd only seen through the screen of her laptop or through daydreams conjured by her imagination. Not when she had someone to live for, someone who needed her.

  The looks Mia sent her ever since were strange too, like she was looking at a pitiful injured puppy that needed healing. She was looking at Carmilla like there was something in her that needed fixing, which was … annoying.

  Carmilla did not need any fixing beyond whatever was needed to keep her instincts in check.

  Her worries seemed to be for naught, though. Mia still talked with her, practised magic with her and cuddled with her at night. Nothing changed in that department other than maybe the face Mia’s eyes lost that hungry glint they had in them before whenever she looked at Carmilla.

  That was mildly insulting. Was she not pretty anymore? Was she withering again from starvation?

  She’d checked in the mirror, and she was pretty sure that was not the case. All the curves, muscles and plump flesh were exactly where they should be. Her Bloodline memories told her the Clan she belonged to, the Nightshades, were primarily hybrid Mage-Fighter types, not focused on seduction, charms or glamour like some other Clans. That didn't mean her Bloodline didn't forge her body into a piece of divine art, a weapon in more ways than one. Vampires were like roses, tantalising and beautiful to lure in the unknowing prey before their vicious thorns showed themselves.

  Carmilla was goddamn gorgeous, she knew it too. So what the hell was the problem? It was something to figure out, something she already had some leads towards.

  Another, if secondary change to her days since that night were what Mia called ‘game nights’. Every night before going to bed, most of the team would gather up to play games and ‘socialise’. Sometimes, these games were drinking games, tabletop games or just one of those trope-y sleepover games like truth or dare.

  Carmilla wasn’t particularly fond of most of the people in the group. Mia was, of course, exempt from that, as was Helene. The latter of whom had become even nicer than she was previously, if that was possible, and almost smothering in her caring since that night. Carmilla really didn’t know how to take that, so she usually just plastered a smile on her face and let the woman do whatever she put her mind to at that moment.

  Carmilla had some quick chats with Lina about proper clothes and how to find ones that fit her figure and hair, but that was it. Carmilla never pushed the relationship, doubly so since she knew the blonde air mage still held some fear in her heart. Rightly so. Carmilla was a vampire, even if she sometimes wished it wasn’t. How could she blame someone for fearing her when she was afraid of herself, too? Being a vampire was scary, maybe even more so than meeting one face-to-face.

  Brent was respectable, a strangely heroic kind of person. It took Carmilla a long time to realise the man actually meant what he was saying and was not just really good at lying. He really did believe that it was his duty to use whatever powers he had available to save as many innocent people as he possibly could. He believed it and had the drive to actually fight for that goal without faltering. The man was so very strange.

  Mark was … abrasive, but he was Mia’s not-brother childhood friend, who acted exactly like a brother to her as far as Carmilla understood it. She felt the dwarf didn’t like her for some reason, which didn’t make for the nicest seedbed for a burgeoning friendly relationship.

  Aside from them, there was only Clive. Carmilla kind of liked him. He was just so mellow and nice that it was hard not to. Her instincts also told her he was genuine. But he was like a pleasant wallpaper; his presence made the room more comfortable, but he never did anything all that important or memorable.

  She’d learned more of each of them during these game nights, while she also shared some slight snippets of her own life. Not anywhere near as much as she did with Mia, but it was … fun watching how horrified they were by even some of the milder stuff.

  Apparently, getting only stale bread and having only one set of clothing given to you by your foster family was not normal.

  Mark, who she’d thought hated her before, surprised her though by how furious he was when she’d mentioned that. Had that particular pair of foster parents of hers been in the room, she had no doubt he would have beaten them into a pulp. That made her feel strangely warm and fluttery inside.

  What made her exceptionally relieved, though, was how every game night drained away more and more of the stress and anxiety Mia likely thought she was hiding from Carmilla. The silly girl didn’t understand just what vampires of her calibre were capable of. She could read every micro-expression and confer emotions from each. Hiding anything from her would be exceptionally challenging, and Mia wasn’t really even trying.

  Oh well, the girl was at least mellowing out. That made these game nights worth getting through at the very least, if for nothing else.

  It also told Carmilla the likeliest reason for that freakout Mia had: They thought she was … socially dumb?

  Something like that.

  Well, she had to agree with that. Normal social interactions really weren’t something she had too much experience with. It couldn’t hurt to learn. There was no harm in it, and it made Mia happy.

  Okay. Maybe Carmilla had overplayed just how enjoyable and fun she’d found some of the games a tiny bit, but in her defence, the way Mia always smiled and relaxed in response made it all feel worth it.

  Was she tricking her girlfriend? Maybe. Did she feel bad about it? A little bit. Did she regret doing it? Not really. Mia’s smiles and peace of mind were worth acting out some exaggerated fun.

  She still didn’t quite get why her social inadequacy and Mia supposedly coming to realise its existence freaked the girl out so much, but oh well, all in due time. Maybe she would ask once Mia really relaxed. It wouldn’t do her any good to be overly anxious and distracted by thinking about such inane things tomorrow.

  If the Colonel’s timetable was to be believed, they would reach the Wolf Rift by tomorrow evening at the latest. They would all need to be on top of their game. There would be no room for distractions or errors.

  *****

  “We are getting close,” Mia said, her nose scrunched up and ears flattening against her head as the repulsive miasma of the rift washed over her. It couldn’t be more than a few kilometres away now, just out of eyesight.

  “Right about fucking time,” Mark said, smacking — unnecessarily — his mace into a very dead Rust Wolf. “We are just about at the edge of the city, ya know? Is the rift out in the woods?”

  “Probably,” Mia said, shrugging a little as she eyed her surroundings with utmost suspicion. It had been three days since they started their collective push towards the rift and had been diligently clearing out the streets, slaughtering every pack of monster wolves they came across. But what they’d never found were the escaped Rift Guardians and that had put everyone on edge.

  Not just their group but everyone. For all reasons, there had to be as much as three and as little as two Guardians that had been booted from the Rift already, and they had to be skulking about somewhere. And that didn’t even account for the bird Rift and the Guardians it could have spat out before that golden-haired lunatic destroyed it.

  A single person clearing an entire Rift all by themselves. Mia still couldn’t believe the guts and lack of survival instincts just attempting that would take. If she tried to take on just that Boarling Rift as she was at the moment, she’d get slaughtered in short order.

  Thankfully, the Light Archer, who was not only gutsy enough to try but powerful enough to succeed, was pushing towards the Wolf Rift too, just on the opposite side of the city. At his request, apparently. For some reason, the man had explicitly stated he didn’t want to be within a hundred metres of Mia specifically, if at all possible. Or so Zeigler said.

  It was whatever; Mia didn’t want the dangerous elf anywhere near her friends if she could help it either. It stung that people who should have been her kind, her kin, had an inherent dislike for her, but she had greater worries.

  Carmilla was … okay-ish. The girl was smart, so she of course knew Mia didn’t just suddenly gain an inexplicable need to play tabletop games and that it likely had to do with that freakout she had. Camie was emotionally vulnerable and socially inexperienced, though her bloodline memories and vampiric instincts bailed her out on the latter most of the time. She was not dumb, though.

  Which was why Mia had been worried she would push back against her and her mother’s attempts at helping her form some basic emotional connections with more people. Thankfully, she did not. That had been an immense weight off Mia’s chest. It wasn’t anything world-shaking, and it wouldn’t suddenly catch Camie up on a decade of missed experiences, but it was a first step.

  They could do more once they didn’t have a cataclysmic rift break and the possible annihilation of their home hanging over their collective heads. For now, it was enough to take a small step off the starting line.

  The three days of Rust Wolf hunting had also been good to her, finally pushing her Base Manifestation over the edge. With how her spirit ached from overtaxation every evening for the past few days, feeling like a thousand needles were piercing it as if it was a pincushion, it was just about damned time.

  [Base Manifestation: 8 -> 9]

  One more point and I reach the max in that sub attribute. Mia mused, curious whether that would earn her anything nice. Maybe a Title or another Hidden Quest?

  “Alert and ready people,” Brent called out. “If anything’s going to go horribly wrong, it’s going to do so in the next half an hour. I want everyone on the top of their game and expecting the worst. If a damned rat chirps in a corner, we assume it's an invisible dragon trying to bait us into coming closer. Understood?”

  “Why would a dragon need to bait us?” Mark asked, but only got a severe glare in return, to which he just held up his arms in defeat. “Roger, roger. Captain.”

  The rest nodded without any smartass comment, and Mia quickly translated the order for Nikki’s benefit. The woman was a downright savant when it came to learning languages as it turned out, and was able to speak a basic level of German already, but Brent’s quick speech was beyond her still.

  Nodding seriously, the blue-haired woman conjured up her Ice Armour, which Mia took as her cue to reapply her Lesser Wards onto everyone.

  Her runic model turned slowly. Slower than usual, and Mia suppressed a grimace. Ever since she’d reached 100% with the runes in it, it had started becoming exceedingly cumbersome with every added rune.

  She only got about five runes above the limit, but she already felt it slowing noticeably. Instead of the previous two seconds it took for the runic-model to compile the spell circle for Arcane Blast, it now took two point one seconds.

  There were solutions beyond just Ranking Up to upgrade the Class Skill, but Nikki said even the easiest to do would be a chore. It’d also take some time and effort, none of which Mia had too much of as of late.

  I’ll do it once this rift is gone. She had that decided already, knowing removing the rift was more important than fixing her 5% decrease in start-up time.

  Maybe I’ll even get rewarded during the Class Tier-Up for upgrading my runic-model to Rank 1 myself, without system assistance.

  That was a silver lining, and a pretty good one in her opinion. If it worked as expected.

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