In the mundane world of Sameroth, raising a common puppy is a trial of patience—a sequence of chewed slippers and damp patches on the rug. Raising an S-Rank Calamity Griffin, however, is an exercise in managing a localized geological catastrophe. A puppy's mistake requires a mop; a Griffin's mistake requires a bucket of enchanted coolant and a mason to replace the liquified masonry.
"Desist. By the gods, Nugget, desist," I pleaded, my hands raised in a gesture of frantic, useless supplication.
The creature—a fluff-covered, magma-veined potato—did not desist. It performed a rhythmic, waddling squat-dance in the center of the parlor. Its obsidian scales began to transition from a matte black to a terrifying, incandescent cherry-red.
"Lord Leo!" Clara shrieked, the fireproof birdcage clattering to the floor. "The thermal buildup in its lower digestive tract has reached critical mass! It is preparing for a thermal discharge!"
"Intercede!" I roared.
I mentally shunted Leonel the Archmage forward. He scooped up the pulsating bird. The moment his palms made contact, the [Trinity Soul] flared; a sharp, searing hiss escaped my main body's throat. It felt as though a cup of boiling oil had been pressed directly against my chest.
"The window! Now!"
The stairs were out of the question. A transit past Mrs. Higgins with a smoking, radioactive avian would result in a summary execution. Leon the Knight shattered the window's latch with a single, armored kick. Leonel hurled the bird to my main body. I caught the flaming nugget, pivoted, and cast myself into the alleyway two stories below.
In a feat of triple-bodied physics, I commanded the Knight to leap a heartbeat later. I landed hard in the grime, then used the Knight's broad, armored shoulders as a springboard to arrest my momentum. It was a masterpiece of tactical descent, ruined only by the fact that the Mage—possessing the physical grace of a sodden parchment—tumbled out behind us and landed squarely on my neck.
I ignored the phantom sensation of my own knees pulverizing my own vertebrae. I sprinted into the overgrown weeds behind the bakery and deposited the bird.
"Proceed," I panted, pointing at the dirt. "Release the catastrophe."
Nugget waddled into the brush, squatted, and exhaled a single, content puff of sulfurous smoke. A white-hot cinder dropped into the grass. Instantly, the alley erupted into a wall of orange flame.
"EX extinguishment!" I shrieked.
I seized Leonel by the robes, thrusting him toward the inferno. In my panic, the mana-throttle jammed. Instead of a gentle spray, the Archmage unleashed a high-pressure hydro-geyser that didn't just douse the weeds—it excavated the alleyway, obliterated the dirt, and launched Nugget ten feet into the air.
"Peep!" the bird cheered, flapping its useless, lint-covered wings before landing perfectly on the Knight's helmet.
The fire died in a hiss of steam. We stood in the crater, drenched and gasping.
"Magnificent... execution," Clara panted, having descended via the mundane stairs. She adjusted her spectacles, her gaze fixed on the smoking hole in the ground. "A two-stage atmospheric insertion followed by an immediate hydro-bombardment. You even incorporated a kinetic play-session for the beast! Your multitasking borders on the divine, Lord Leo."
Twenty minutes later, the "gods" of Sameroth attempted a leisurely stroll through the town square.
It was a formation of pure, concentrated absurdity. Standard leather turned to ash upon Nugget's skin, necessitating a mithril chain leash. While the metal didn't burn, it conducted heat with terrifying efficiency. My main hand began to blister within seconds, forcing me to transfer the chain to Leon, whose gauntlets could withstand the furnace-like temperature.
The Syndicate moved through the square: Leon, the towering iron monolith, led a tiny, fluffy, burnt-looking chicken on a heavy metal chain. Leonel followed, clutching a bucket of water like a holy relic. I led the way, attempting to project an aura of serene, untouchable power.
"Behold!" a merchant whispered. "The Cerberus Syndicate!"
"What is that foul thing the Vanguard leads?" a crone gasped. "It radiates the malice of a dying star!"
"It is a Demon Core!" a voice cried from the crowd. "They have bound the heart of a volcano in iron to show their dominance over the elements!"
I focused on my breathing. Left. Right. Left. Coordination was a metronome. We were the legend. We were the—
Nugget saw the cat.
It was a scrawny alley-stray, gnawing on a fish head. To Nugget, it was a rival apex predator requiring immediate annihilation.
"PEEP!" the bird screeched.
It launched itself with the velocity of a ballista bolt. Leon, caught mid-stride, was violently jerked forward. The [Trinity Soul] screamed; I felt my arm being wrenched from its socket by an invisible giant.
"BRACE!" I commanded the Knight.
I manually locked Leon's boots into the cobblestones, but Nugget's tiny, fluffy legs generated the torque of a runaway carriage.
SCREEEEECH.
The Knight's iron boots carved two steaming trenches into the stone as he was dragged helplessly across the square.
"The Vanguard is performing a sliding tactical advance!" a bystander roared in approval.
He's being kidnapped by a chicken! I wailed internally.
I shifted my focus to the Mage. "INTERCEPT!"
Leonel sprinted forward. I attempted an Earth Wall, but the sensory static of Leon's boots grinding against stone scrambled my aim. Leonel tripped over his own hem, lurched forward, and launched the bucket of water into the sky. It traced a perfect arc before descending squarely onto my main body's head.
CLANG.
Blindness. Total, wooden blindness. My vision was replaced by the interior of a wet bucket.
I was now navigating via the auxiliary feeds of my clones. Through Leon's eyes: a dizzying blur of cobblestones and screaming fruit stands. Through Leonel's eyes: the wide, indifferent sky, as he lay flat on his back.
Calculate the geometry. Plot the intercept.
I released Leon's grip on the chain. The Knight spiraled away, crashing through a stack of wooden crates. Freed from the dead weight, Nugget accelerated, hitting a vendor's awning like a ramp and launching himself into the air.
"I HAVE THE TARGET!" I yelled from within my wooden helmet.
Using Leonel's ground-level perspective, I calculated the bird's trajectory. I moved my main body into the kill-zone, leaped, and extended my arms. It was a feat of impossible spatial awareness—a blinded man guided by the eyes of a fallen comrade to catch a flying, flaming ember.
SMACK.
I caught Nugget mid-air. "Victory!" I cheered.
Then, gravity remembered me. With both hands occupied by a bird that felt like a hot branding iron, I plummeted through the canopy of a fruit stall, landing in a mountain of crushed, green cabbages. The bucket popped off my head and rolled into the gutter.
Silence claimed the square. I lay amidst the coleslaw, groaning as Nugget sat on my chest and began to nibble on a stray leaf.
I sat up, watching my clones drag themselves from the wreckage. I expected the guards. I expected the screams. Instead, a slow, thunderous applause began to build.
"Incredible..." the fruit vendor wept, staring at his ruined produce.
"The invisible assassins," an old veteran whispered, removing his cap in reverence. "I didn't even sense their presence. But the Syndicate... they knew."
"The Vanguard was grappled by a spectral wraith!" a noblewoman gasped. "The Archmage was struck down by a psychic blast! And Lord Leo... he donned the Bucket of Mental Fortitude to shield his mind, tracking the demons entirely through the eyes of his brothers!"
"He wrestled the invisible beast into the cabbages!" the vendor cheered. "He sacrificed my livelihood to save Sameroth! Take the silver, Lord Leo! My cabbages are honored to have served as your landing pad!"
Clara sprinted into the fray, her notebook a blur of ink. "The 'Blinded-Bucket-Drop' maneuver! A combined-arms tactic using the beast as a high-speed flush for spectral targets! It's legendary!"
I stood, brushing cabbage from my rogue's leather, attempting to look like a man who hadn't just been bullied by a bird. "The... spectral threat... has been neutralized," I intoned. "Sleep soundly, Sameroth."