Chapter 37: Stockings

I don’t know how long it had been, but the battle was finally over.

Celia, using the last of her strength, slowly propped herself up from the messy carpet.

A few strands of sweat-dampened hair stuck to her cheeks, and her breathing was still a little unsteady.

She lowered her gaze to look beside her.

Onyxia had been completely vanquished.

That usually spirited and lively tail of hers lay limp on the blanket, the tip still twitching slightly.

Her arms were spread out weakly, palms facing up, her slender fingers half-curled.

Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell deeply and slowly, like a fish stranded on a beach.

The recent battle had used up every ounce of her strength.

Looking at her, Celia suddenly let out a soft laugh, so quiet it was almost scattered by the night breeze.

The Water Dragon Soul, forever the champion.

She was tired too, her waist feeling like it had been taken apart and hastily put back together, but at least she was still conscious.

That item was indeed powerful, but Onyxia had said she felt no sense of participation while using it, so Celia had ended up taking the field herself in the end.

If not for that, the outcome might not have been so certain.

She took a deep breath, propping herself up on her sore, weak legs to sit up slowly.

The blanket slipped from her shoulders, and the night breeze brushed against her slightly cool skin, sobering her up a little.

She turned to reach for Onyxia’s robe, which was scattered at the edge of the camping mat.

In the middle of nowhere, she didn’t want to sleep naked outside.

First the arm.

She lifted that limp arm, carefully threading the sleeve over it, her fingertips cautiously avoiding the swollen fingers.

Then the shoulder.

She half-pulled the woman into her embrace, draping the robe over that shoulder, then gently laying her back down.

The other sleeve was put on with equal care.

While tying the sash, she looked.

The moon-white robe always looked so casually worn on Onyxia, but now, under Celia’s fingertips, it became exceptionally obedient.

Celia lowered her head, aligning the crossed front panels, winding the slender sash around the waist, and tying it into a bow.

—It was a little crooked.

She pursed her lips, untied it, and retied it.

This time it was straight.

Mission accomplished.

She withdrew her hands and was about to turn to find her own clothes when she suddenly felt something lightly hook her pinky finger.

Celia looked down.

Onyxia had opened her eyes a slit at some point.

Her eyes, glistening under the starlight, were looking at her.

That large tail had also quietly moved over at some point, the tip curling softly around Celia’s ankle.

“……” Celia looked at her, not moving.

Onyxia’s lips moved, as if saying something, but only a few indistinct, breathy sounds came out.

That tail was still rubbing against her ankle intermittently, like the instinctive, sleepy cuddling of some large feline.

Celia was silent for a moment.

“…Go to sleep.”

She casually pulled the slipped blanket back up.

Onyxia finally quieted down.

The tail tip gave her one last rub before going limp and dropping down.

Celia knelt by the blanket, looking at her sleeping face, staying quietly in the night breeze for a good while.

The river of stars above slowly turned.

That Alchemy Disc was still quietly rotating in mid-air, its pale purple halo enveloping this small, quiet campsite.

The campfire had died down to embers, occasionally emitting faint crackling sounds.

Celia finally withdrew her gaze, slowly lying back down, facing the starry sky.

—Then she discovered that tail had wound itself tightly around her waist.

…Forget it.

She didn’t struggle free.

After thinking for a bit, she decided to check the System.

It had been a while.

She gently opened it with her mind.

The light screen rippled like water, and the familiar interface spread out in the night.

Lines of information quickly scrolled past.

She habitually glanced toward the corner she cared about most.

[Title Collection Progress: 28]

Why was it still two short?

She quickly calculated the achievements she’d recently completed in her mind.

Border Conflict, Rose Knights, Confrontation with the Chief Justice, Escorting Ilya…

She’d clearly done a lot of major things, so why was she still one step away from a Ten-Draw?

[Ten-Draw Currently Available: No]

[Titles Required for Next Ten-Draw: 2]

“……”

Forget it.

Single draws were out of the question.

Even Ten-Draws didn’t yield much good stuff, so single draws would be even worse.

She didn’t close the interface immediately.

Instead, almost as if possessed, she clicked into another corner: [Item Warehouse]

There were only three items inside.

Three stockings, all belonging to Olivia.

She didn’t know who this unlucky soul was, but the System seemed intent on shearing this one sheep only.

She stared at the items for a long time, thinking they couldn’t just be ordinary stockings, right?

Even if the System was stingy, it wouldn’t label a rare item like cabbage.

She clicked in.

The light screen began to change, the detailed attributes spreading out line by line.

She scanned them casually, and then—

She froze.

[Item Name: Olivia’s Black Stockings]

[Quality: Rare]

[Origin: Crafted from the shed scales of Dragon Princess Olivia]

[Attribute Bonuses]

· Mental Power +28%

· Defense +35%

· (Hidden Effect: Dragon’s Might Intimidation · Trace)

[Note: Her Highness the Princess is very concerned about the whereabouts of her shed scales. It’s best not to let her know you took them, or the consequences…]

—It didn’t finish.

The System left a suggestive ellipsis.

Celia stared at that line of text for a long time without moving.

Dragon Princess.

Olivia.

Not the unlucky soul she thought the System was constantly shearing.

Not some unknown passerby with the same name.

A Dragon Princess.

Who had her shed dorsal scales specially woven into stockings by a craftsman.

And they were now quietly lying in her Item Warehouse, neatly, three pairs.

The night breeze blew from the edge of the wilderness, carrying the unique chill of Askala.

The campfire embers made faint crackling sounds.

Onyxia’s tail was still coiled around her waist, warm and soft, completely unaware that the person in its embrace was staring blankly at a System interface.

Celia looked at those three pairs of stockings.

She stared at that unfinished description.

Stared at that meaningful ellipsis.

The attributes were great.

Putting them on would be like getting free stats, a waste not to take.

But first, you needed to be alive to wear them.

Celia thought expressionlessly.

If one day that Dragon Princess followed the scent of her scales to her door, opened her travel bag, pulled out these three pairs of stockings, and demanded, “How did my dorsal scales end up with you?” — how was she supposed to explain?

Say the System gave them?

Say she drew them from a gacha?

Say she also didn’t know why three pairs of a strange Dragon Princess’s intimate clothing were lying in her warehouse?

She could almost see the rest of her life: being chased across the continent by dragonfire, leaving behind the legendary bounty of “that Dark Elf who stole the princess’s stockings” in every tavern.

Even her own people probably wouldn’t bother to bail her out.

…Better start packing for the next life.

And that wasn’t all.

Taking ten thousand steps back, even if the Dragon Princess never came for revenge, she couldn’t wear them anyway.

She wasn’t that perverted.

Worn by someone else. Intimate clothing.

The kind kept in the innermost box of the wardrobe.

The kind Her Highness the Princess personally took off, neatly folded, and stored away.

Just imagining the scene made her ears burn.

…Enough.

Celia abruptly closed the System interface, so quickly it was as if the light screen would grow dragon claws and drag her into the abyss if she closed it a second later.

Onyxia’s tail was still coiled around her waist, its owner sleeping soundly and unaware.

Celia took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Just pretend she never drew them.

Sleep.

At the same time,

At the far edge of the horizon, in the extreme distance, two unfamiliar presences were parting the clouds, flying—

in this direction.