Chapter 23
Written by Bayzo Albion
The Baroness stood before me, composed as ever, her presence both alluring and unnerving.
I snorted. "And you're what, my noble hen watching over me?"
"No," she said, a faint, dangerous smile curving her lips. "I'm the trap that snaps shut on those foxes."
A chill skittered down my spine, but I held her gaze. "Do what you want, but don't think you can control me."
"Control you?" she said, her voice soft but edged with amusement. "I wouldn't dream of it. Your death would be a tragedy for every woman in this world."
I gave a lopsided grin, though doubt gnawed at me. *Get used to it,* I told myself. *This world plays by different rules. But that nagging suspicion—it's like a splinter I can't pull out. Always waiting for the catch.*
"What's with you women here?" I asked, probing for a crack in her calm. "No ego? No jealousy? Are you all just born altruists?"
She tilted her head, her expression unshaken. "If you're asking about jealousy, the answer is no. We don't feel it."
I raised an eyebrow. "So if I gave myself entirely to, say, that elf girl—ignored you completely, not a glance, not a word—you'd be fine with it?"
"I'd be happy for you both," she said without a flicker of hesitation.
I frowned, searching her face for a lie. *Is she serious? Or is she just playing the perfect companion?*
*System, explain her logic,* I thought, summoning the interface.
> **System:** In this world, women do not compete for men.
*Elaborate.*
> **System:** Women here are bound to the essence of Mother Nature, forming a unified spiritual collective. Their ethos is one for all, all for one. The success of one is the success of all, strengthening the entire feminine lineage. This holds true in most cases, though rare individuals with unique values or pathologies may deviate.
*So if I love one woman, everyone else is just… happy for her?*
> **System:** In most cases, yes.
I muttered under my breath, "Maybe I should crank up the difficulty." Then I shook my head. "Nah, too soon. Gotta figure out how this world ticks first."
"Are you communing with spirits?" the Baroness asked, her gaze sharp enough to cut through my thoughts. "Or seeking their counsel?"
"Talking to my own power," I said evasively, keeping my cards close. No need to spill everything.
"I see," she murmured, her tone hinting at some unspoken realization. Her eyes lingered on me, calm but probing, as if she'd glimpsed something I hadn't meant to show.
I returned to my warm-up, rolling through a few more flips—back, side, forward—feeling my body hum with life. Each move sparked a flicker of energy in my joints, my breath steadying, my confidence swelling.
"God, this feels *good*!" I shouted, throwing my arms wide to the sky. "Who knew a simple workout could hit like this? I'm practically bursting with power!"
The joy hit me like a wave—pure, raw, almost childlike. No potions, no magic, just the rush of movement and breath. It was exhilarating, a discovery that physical exertion didn't just hone my body—it replenished my very life force. *Now that's something to work with.*
Time to find my first target—a monster worthy of a real fight. The Baroness trailed me, her steps silent but her presence undeniable, like a breeze that never quite leaves your skin. Her gaze was a subtle weight on the back of my neck—curious, measured, neither judging nor mocking. Like I was some rare creature she was studying, cataloging every move.
It was reassuring… and unsettling.
*Is she guarding me? Judging me? Or just watching?*
We wove through the forest, where ancient trees knit their branches into a dense canopy overhead, allowing only slivers of sunlight to pierce the gloom. The air was heavy with the scent of moss, damp bark, and something wilder—a primal whisper that stirred the blood. Twigs snapped underfoot, but I tread lightly, like a hunter stalking prey, every sense sharpened to the world around me.
Each sound was a potential warning. A rustle in the underbrush. The faint scratch of claws against wood. A low, guttural growl that seemed to rise from the earth itself. My heart thrummed faster, not with fear but with a strange thrill—the kind that hums in your veins before a fight you've been craving.
Beside me, the Baroness moved with an effortless grace, as if she were born of the forest itself. Not a single leaf stirred beneath her steps. Her silhouette glided between the trees, half-melding with the shadows, a specter of elegance in the dim light. At times, she murmured to herself—perhaps critiquing my clumsy caution or lost in her own thoughts. Once, I swore I caught the ghost of a laugh, soft and fleeting, like a breeze slipping through the branches.
I stole glances at her. Her face was a mask of calm, but her eyes danced with a lively curiosity, sharp and unguarded. *What does she see when she looks at me?* I wondered. *A greenhorn stumbling through her world? A curiosity to be studied? A weapon to be wielded? Or… just a man worth protecting?* The questions piled up, each one heavier than the last, and answers remained frustratingly out of reach.
"Are you *sure* you're human?" the Baroness asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence. Her gaze swept over me, tinged with a flicker of suspicion.
I let out a dry chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "Doubting me already? Go ahead, check for yourself. Do I *look* like a monster?" I leaned closer, my tone teasing. "Or is this just an excuse to get your hands on me?"
Her eyes narrowed, unamused. "I'm not joking," she said, her voice like a blade of ice. "If you're not human, they'll hunt you down. Wipe your mind. Turn you into a hollow slave until they've drained every ounce of your essence. And when there's nothing left, they'll destroy you."
My smirk faded, her words landing like a punch. For a moment, I held her gaze, searching for a crack in her resolve. "And if I *am* human? Does that mean I just got lucky being born the 'right' kind?"
She tilted her head, her expression unyielding. "It's not about luck. It's about trust. Humans are the baseline here—everything else is suspect. Especially when you act… *unusually*."
I nodded slowly, processing her words. "Fine. So how do you know for sure? How do you tell who's who?"
"Only the Holy White Sword can judge," she replied, her voice steady. "It never lies. If you're a monster, it'll burn you to ash. If you're human, it'll pass through you like mist."
"Sounds… intense," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Where do I sign up for this sword test?"
"There's an altar of purification in our village," she said. "Everyone who wants to be recognized officially undergoes the rite. Pass it, and you get a seal of approval and an identity token."
"Any perks to this ritual, or is it just another hoop to jump through?"
She smirked, just a hint of warmth breaking through her cool demeanor. "Pass the rite, and you're exempt from the entry tax. Plus, you get discounts on lodging and food. Oh, and lower taxes overall."
"Well, that's a no-brainer," I said, grinning. "Sign me up. I'd rather know where I stand than keep dancing on the edge. You'll come with me, right? I'm like a lost puppy out here."
"It's my duty to keep an eye on outsiders," she said, her tone clipped but not unkind. "Every village watches newcomers. It's a precaution."
"So, you're at war with the monsters?"
She tilted her head, considering. "Yes and no. It depends on the monster. Some are sentient. Some are even useful. But most hide their true nature, and that's the problem."
"Why not just test everyone with the sword and be done with it?"
Her lips curved into a faint, cryptic smile. "Because that would end the game too quickly. We play cat and mouse with the clever ones. They try to blend in; we try to root them out. It's like chess—move by move. One mistake, and you lose."
"A war with rules, then?" I asked, letting a touch of irony slip into my voice.
"Not exactly a war," she said. "We call it a 'test of maturity.' Monsters make us sharper. Without a threat, there's no growth. No evolution. Wiping them out entirely would be… shortsighted. Each encounter teaches us something new."
I mulled over her words, the philosophy sinking in. "Back where I'm from, it was simpler. Enemy? Kill it. Fast as you can."
"And that's why you humans kept slaughtering each other," she said, her tone sharp but not cruel. "Here, it's different. Strength alone doesn't win. It's about being smarter. Tougher. More *enduring*."
We fell silent, the weight of her words settling between us. As we pressed deeper into the forest, something bizarre emerged on the path ahead—a hulking creature, its body unmistakably ursine but crowned with the head of a rabbit. Strangely, it didn't repulse me. There was an eerie harmony to it, as if nature itself had sculpted this anomaly with deliberate care.
"Monster or just a local critter?" I asked, my eyes locked on the beast.
"If it attacks, it's a monster," the Baroness replied, her voice calm as still water.
As if on cue, the creature's head snapped toward us. It let out a grotesque sound—a guttural blend of a snarl and a grunt—and charged, its massive bulk thundering toward us with terrifying speed.
I spun around, ready to strategize with the Baroness, but she was gone. Vanished. Like a shadow swallowed by the forest. "Of course…" I muttered, adrenaline surging. No time to curse her absence. The beast was on me.