Chapter 158

It wasn’t long before morning light filled Warwick’s home and the devastation was lit up bright, all the rubble of Rain and Erin’s fight strewn across the grass, the long dining table shattered, stone and tile pockmarking the ground and of course the hole he had punched through into the floor below.

Warwick was looking hungover and gloomy sitting against a piece of detached wall half embedded in the grass.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” said Lyra, yawning as she arrived beside him, a cup of lightly steaming tea held in hand. She was wearing sheep themed pyjamas plus a pair of sheep themed slippers having apparently acquired a few things from her parent’s house.

“Your shitty deal. Valetha won’t allow Pickle to kill your slave.”

“Oh?”

“No. Tell me, did you expect this from the start? Did you plan this all along?”

“What? That the tiny goat child would make friends with the terrifying giant killer monster? No, not precisely.”

“That somehow makes it worse, who the hell would think she would make friends with that thing?!”

“Eh, you probably should have seen it coming, it’s not like Bean is any different, plus Rain has the fluff advantage.”

Warwick groaned and slumped against the chunk of wall.

“Hey Rain! What happened to cause such a mess? Did I sleep through all of this?” she yelled.

“Erin visited in the night.”

The sheep girl froze mid step, her herbal tea sloshing over the rim of her cup.

“Huwhadidyoujustsay?” she squeaked.

“The succubus, she’s been following us.”

“As in, that succubus, the one that very nearly killed you in Lynthia?”

Rain looked grim.

“That’s uhm, not good.

“No, but one small blessing is that she seems obsessed with me to the point that I don’t think she’s running around draining from random levelers to become stronger, maybe because she doesn’t want to risk being discovered before she can drain more from me.”

“More from you?”

“I ... don’t want to talk about it.” he grumbled with a scowl...

“A succubus is just the cherry on top of the shit pie isn’t it?” spat Warwick glaring up at him.

“Oh hush. If it makes you feel any better my actual plan was to push off the moment of killing Rain indefinitely by telling you about my deep connection with the priesthood which states that optimal level gain can only be acquired under a certain kind of full moon in some unspecified future. But uh, you should know that Rain doesn’t actually have any heart pins or anything like that, he was never goign to to be killed because he isn’t a slave.”

There was a moment of fear in the leveler’s eyes, legs drawing up as a dagger materialised in his hands.

After a moment of pointing it at the motionless Rain he deflated, the dagger dropping from his hands to go rolling in the grass.

His voice was low and defeated.

“I’ve been speaking casually with a monster capable of killing me with ease at any moment with nothing to stop it and it ... chose not to.”

“You can call it another mind game if you like,” said Rain with a yawn.

He shook his head, “I don’t know what to believe. But it doesn’t matter in the end, the entire point of not reporting you has gone out the window and Pickle lost a life changing opportunity.”

“She met me.”

“That’s life changing in the worst way possible!” hissed Warwick, putting a hand to his head.

Rain tilted his head then turned and picked up Lyra.

“Uh, Rain?”

“Wool. I want to access your wool space.”

“Okay... ‘“

Lyra’s white wool washed to black he stuck one arm into the wriggling squeaking sheep girl’s thighs, his paw disappearing in a cloud of fluff. He dragged his arm back out and with it came a barrel.

“What is this?” said Warick, peeking from under his hand.

“You can’t level Pickle’s future, so instead you will buy it.”

Rain upturned the barrel and gold and jewels poured out of the thing like a waterfall of wealth, a staggering amount of coin and gem that roared with clattering metal as it poured onto the grass, a pile building up and up and up until it was spilling over Warwick’s lap and the man was staring at it jaw hanging slack.

At one point a Kobold dove from Lyra’s wool with a shriek of outrage before Rain picked him up with his other paw and roughly stuffed him back inside.

“This isn’t real...” breathed Warwick, staring round eyed at the treasure, running his fingers through the heap of gold.

“That’s all for Pickle...?” came a strained voice from behind.

They turned to see Valetha looking shaky, her two kids beside her as she stared at the pile of wealth.

Lyra scratched her cheek. “I guess so yeah.”

“I can’t, this isn’t, why do you even have that!?”

“Oh, you know, reasons.”

“Reasons,” she said faintly. “I ... see.”

Valetha keeled over on the grass, muscular arms spread eagled, eyes rolled up, her two kids looking down at her with alarm.

“Think yah kinda might have overdone it a bit Rain?”

“Maybe...”

She sighed but then slipped a hand into her own wool, scrabbling around until she found what she was looking for.

A rapier was pulled free, the one that had been stabbed through her chest.

She held it and stared at it for a moment, but then held out the grip for Warwick.

“Here, it’s worth a bit I think, the strengthening enchantment on it so it never snaps is remarkable. Hang onto it, and then when Pickle is old enough, hand it down to her.”

Warwick hesitantly took the thing.

“This thing screams extremely wealthy nobility, you know that right?”

“Eh, they won’t be needing it anymore.”

Warwick hefted the blade a few times, feeling its balance, then with a flicker the rapier vanished into thin air before materialising in his other hand a moment later.

“I suppose if anyone can hide a valuable weapon it’s someone with a Class like mine,” he mused.

“Perfect! Now hide the damned thing away before Opal sees I’ve given it to you, quickly now, vanish it!”

After some minutes Warwick still seemed to be struggling to metally deal with the treasure spilling all over his legs, running his fingers through the gold like a kid playing with sand.

Lyra, deciding to leave him to it, finished her tea and got ready, returning back to the square to find Opal peering down the hole in the grass to the rooms below. Warwick’s family were busy trying to organise the literal pile of treasure they had been gifted, occasionally fending off Red who kept hovering around them, making distressed sounds, or remarks about the proper care of gold.