CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  Question.

  How do you bargain with a baby? Scratch that, how do you bargain with a baby that is also, not so secretly, a System born Empress? Rewind a moment, how on earth do you bargain with a baby—that is also a not so secret System born Empress—who is, in addition to all that, positively spoiled rotten by the, apparently, very protective concept of mana itself?

  Also mana hates you, your arms are short, and you’re bald.

  The answer, as it so happens, is chocolate cake. A, quite frankly, absurd amount of chocolate cake. An unhealthy amount, some might say. And they would be right, though you wouldn’t know it just by looking at her. The pint sized pipsqueak was hoovering down chocolaty confections by the pound it felt like.

  It was even to the point that he was starting to get worried. Confused as to where all that mass was going. Then, of course, he would remember what her Sin Aspect probably was, shudder in uncontrolled terror for about 0.25 seconds at the recollection of what exactly that meant, and finally settle on base practicality to get him through the day.

  He wanted her to listen, she wanted chocolate cake. It was just a simple business transaction. Nothing more. It helped to assuage his primal terror a smidge at least, so that was nice. It wasn’t exactly easy being in such close proximity to a bona fide monster, after all. Well, an adorable, incurably curious, chocolate frosting covered monster, he’d grant you, but still a monster all the same.

  The little tyrant in training was barely finished shoveling down the first slice of cake before she was already reaching for a second.

  “Ah ah ah!” he held up the container so it was just barely out of her reach. Not the easiest thing to do when the girl could literally fly.

  “You know the deal. No dessert until you eat your vegetables!”

  She perked up at the mention of food. Pausing mid-lunge with arms still outstretched, giving him a break from all the constant ducking and weaving.

  “Uh- erm, that is to say, perform your mana exercises. Naturally, I didn’t mean actualvegetables. You just ate. Like. A lot.”

  Immediately her face fell. Then it scrunched up an a cute little grimace. A glimmer of intelligence winking from behind those amber eyes.

  Oh, I do not like that look. No I don’t like it at all.

  In the next second he was unceremoniously lifted from the nice and cozy earth, held upside down, and pinned there—nearly a dozen feet off the ground. To say he panicked would’ve been an understatement. He didn’t let it show however, he wasn’t an amateur. And was that not the mark of a true mentor? Terrified of his pupil he might be, but appearances had to be maintained.

  Already the bra- that is to say the budding empress had gotten exactly what she’d been after. Two swift bites, and the slice of cake he’d been holding in reserve vanished. Just like that! Richard harrumphed, crossing his tiny arms over his chest.

  “Bad girl! That was very very bad! This is completely unprofessional.”

  The kid merely looked up at him, pondering. Cocked her head to the side. As if wondering just where all that cake was coming from, and maybe if she shook him a bit, more would spill out. All it would take was a thought. And, well, if it didn’t work the first time, she could always shake harder now couldn’t she? Blood was beginning to rush to Richard’s head, but that was nothing compared to the cold sweat that’d broken out across his body.

  “P-put your teacher down right this instant young lady, or I’ll… I’ll be very angry with you. Do you want that? You don’t want to see teacher mad do you!?”

  The little girl squinted up at him, taking his measure with that same glittering intelligence, as if actually mulling over the question! Wondering whether she did want to see him get angry or not. Whether it would be interesting.

  “Penelope Green, you put me down right this instant!” the words came out crisp and sharp, like a drill sergeants bark.

  The girl jolted, as if she’d been shocked. Eyes now very very wide, she lowered him to the ground immediately. Even setting him down on his favorite log with all the care in the world. Richard clenched his fists together to mask their trembling.

  “Now, as punishment for that little,” his voice wavered. “For that little mishap, you’re going to cycle your mana three times from your mana core. And I do mean yours. Your little friends can help, but only with the restoration process. Got it?”

  She refused to meet his eye.

  “I said, am I understood?” he tried to add a definite firmness to his tone. It’d worked before, so why not now.

  With an oddly adult sounding sigh, and a pouting lower lip, she bobbed her head in meek acquiescence.

  “Good,” Richard failed to hide the relief in his tone. “Now, scooch over, will you? I need to see. We can talk about possible desserts after.”

  She seemed to perk up at this.

  “And… maybe some vegetables too. Seriously, all that cake can’t be good for you.”

  Penelope huffed. Clearly his student begged to differ. Richard placed his hand on her back, and guided her through another round of the “draw and drain method.” Pushing all the mana in her mana core out at once, forming a bubble of external mana that just sort of… floated there? After which her mana would then be topped up and ready for another go. There was no pain when she did this, as far as he could tell—the mana would rather end itself than even think of possibly harming her—just a bit of mild discomfort.

  Of course, not even that much lasted long, not with the simply obscene levels of mana regeneration she possessed. The ambient mana practically tripping over itself to funnel into her mana pool. One moment it was empty, blink, and in the next it was full. In fact it was so fast to refill, that it left him wondering if he was even doing the right thing at all. But, then he shook himself of such moronic notions. He wasn’t training her to fight other Joe Schmo plebeians, after all.

  He was training her to fight other imperials.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Okay! That was good!” he ruffled her hair. “Just two more and we’re done.”

  Then, they could move onto the second item on the docket. One he had a feeling she’d be taking a great deal more enjoyment out of, even if it probably meant a rather bad time for him. Actually, he was pretty sure that’s exactly why she’d find this next exercise more enjoyable.

  +++

  The challenge was a fairly simple one at heart.

  Penelope was tasked with defending and maintaining several basketball sized bubbles of mana—each extracted from her very own mana core. They were to be physically tethered to her at all times through mana strings—allowing for no cheat, godlike ambient mana abilities, merely the regular old fashioned kind. Neither her connection to the bubbles, nor the bubbles themselves, were allowed to be broken. They were also quite fragile, so, move them around without thinking, and it was basically a wrap.

  Lose all five bubbles and there goes the win. Falling just shy of the ultimate prize.

  I’ll give you three guesses as to what she picked to be her prize. Hmm? Nothing? No takers? Well, if I must, it rhymes with shmocklate shmake. An entire shmocklate shmake. See if that narrows it down for you.

  His task, meanwhile, was to pop those darn bubbles by any means necessary. Simple. It was a task that should’ve required the utmost care on her part, and fine attention to detail. Training her spatial awareness, even as it taught her that, sometimes, brute force and absolute power wasn’t the answer to every solution. Every lock has its key, and oftentimes finesse and fine control are far more versatile than a blunt sledgehammer.

  Of course, things could never be so simple as that. Since very quickly, after a few early losses, she realize that by far the best way to make sure he didn’t pop any more of her bubbles, was to ensure he wasn’t able to pop anything ever again.

  Three thick tendrils of mana, like the rubbery appendages of an adolescent kraken, came down with the force of, well, of three highly articulated wrecking balls. Each aimed straight for his head. Ready to splat him like an over ripe tomato. Felt more than seen, Richard was already darting to the side, ducking in between a series of saplings and moss covered boulders.

  BOOM!

  The mana tendrils impacted as one, detonating the ground in an explosion of upturned earth. It was like a mortar shell had just gone off.

  The ground underneath him quaked—nearly throwing him off his feet entirely—even as he ran around the verdant perimeter for dear life. No such luck unfortunately. He peeked out from behind a boulder, at the young girl floating at the very center of the glade. Almost sitting on top of the spawning orb, she slowly tracked his movements with her body—a look of either concentration, or constipation on her cherubic face.

  The tendrils buried several feet in the ground vanished in a swirl of un-aspected mana. Feeling, to him, like a sudden breeze he didn’t exactly feel on his skin. In that same instant, two more of the tentacles spun into being—sprouting from her back like some eldritch horror. Again, it felt like, for a second, the very world itself held its breath—a strange tension emanating from over her left and right shoulders. Then, much to his chagrin, that tension increased.

  Two tentacles. four tentacles! Six?!?

  She continued like this until sixteen thick mana tendrils hovered above her in perfect stillness, awaiting her orders. From where he crouched, Richard could tell that this expenditure was taking its toll on her, sweat breaking out on her forehead, but the look of determination she gave promised no mercy and no surrender. Never before had she looked so much the spitting image of a System born Empress—not just a someday ruler of humanity, but of the entire multiverse as a whole.

  Richard shivered in both fear and anticipation.

  This! This is the kind of power humanity needs!

  Then suddenly, their perfect moment of stillness broke, as all sixteen shot forth at incredible speeds. Ready and, dare he say it, eager to dig their grubby little points into him, and punch through the other side.

  “Tut tut tut. Really now, what do you take me for?” Richard muttered under his breath. “You haven’t quite outgrown me yet, you little brat.”

  Richard coalesced three mana tendrils of his own from his far less robust reserves.

  Mana Capacity: 9

  Each looking rather twig-like and pathetic next to her root like constructs.

  Thankfully it’s not the size that matters, but the way you use them. I was hoping to teach her this lesson the easy way, but my pupil has proven herself to be rather stubborn. Hard way it is then.

  With practiced ease—even despite the mana’s sluggishness to respond, thanks to his abysmally low Peerage ranking—Richard began to rotate the tendrils until they resembled elastic drill bits. Then he closed his eyes, and took a single step forward. He would need all his concentration for this next step, and his eyesight was only a hindrance at this stage. The tendrils converged, feeling like a snaking, writhing, wall of roots, ready to bowl him over. They ate up the distance voraciously.

  Ten meters became two in an instant. Then they were upon him.

  There!

  Richard pinpointed several glaring flaws in the almost crystalline lattice of the oncoming constructs. His tendrils lashed out like venomous snakes. Piercing those points of weakness with precise and vicious thrusts, before snapping back to target the next one. It took barely a second. His tendrils popping each of her root-like constructs like soap bubbles, until, instead of a wall of invisible roots impaling him, all he received was a rather nice breeze.

  He opened his eyes and stared at his petulant pupil. She glared back, clearly incensed that her trick hadn’t worked. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if she knew what it would’ve meant if it had.Hmm… maybe he should tell her that no more teacher also means no more cake. At least that might finally smack some sense into her. Her face once more scrunched up in that constipated grimace. Immediately that tension returned, as she no doubt made ready for a second attack.

  Of course, that was when the tendril he’d been working through the earth all this time burst free with a spray of dirt, and popped all five of her bubbles before she could even begin to react. She whipped her head around with a panicked expression. First showing confusion, then understanding, then, finally, dismay. She furrowed her brow, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  NOT FAIR!

  YOU CHEAT!

  “Oh? And what exactly was stopping you from cutting off my attack before it reached you? You can see mana, can you not. Surely all that dirt and rock was no impediment to your sight. Or could it be that you somehow missed it?”

  Her frown faltered. Suddenly she looked far less sure of herself.

  “Or perhaps… no! Was it that you knew it was there the entire time, slowly inching its way towards you, only you’d deemed it wasn’t a threat? Yours were so much bigger, and thus, more interesting after all.”

  Now she looked downright guilty. It would seem he’d hit the nail right on the head. She lowered herself to the ground, actually sitting on the ground this time, instead of hovering just above it. Richard made his way over to the dejected girl. Plopped down next to her and patted her head.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. What’s important is making sure you don’t make a point of repeating them.”

  The girl nodded, having yet to raise her chin from her chest. That is, until a slice of chocolate cake just so happened to slip under there. She snapped her head up, looking to him, surprisingly, instead of chowing down immediately. Hope and confusion vying for dominance on her face.

  “For all that cycling you did creating those tendrils. Surely that deserves some sort of reward, don’t you think?”

  Richard flashed his gums in a grin which she quickly reciprocated. Then… much to his shock… she reached out and… hugged… him. Richard froze. Eyes gone wide. Unaware, or unwilling to call attention to his stiffness, Penelope broke away with a giggle and began devouring the sweet treat. Richard, however, still couldn’t seem to move.

  He glanced down at his hands, and for a moment, it was as if a larger pair had replaced them. Large, calloused, scarred, and sticky to the elbows with the blood of innocents. He was forced to blink away tears. Suddenly it was as if all the oxygen in the air had vanished. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Only stare at those hands and hate the person who’d wielded them.

  He didn’t deserve this… this kindness. In fact much the opposite was true. He wasn’t worth the dirt she didn’t deign to tread upon.

  Richard rose to his feet in one swift motion. Glanced up at where the setting sun would be, already obscured by the towering cliff faces.

  “Once you’ve finished up we’re leaving,” he intoned. “It’s time we return to camp.”

  And so saying, he walked off to gather up his things, leaving a perplexed and slightly worried empress in his wake. He didn’t look back.