Chapter 162

Sol left the restroom feeling much more intimately familiar with the process of sex, with two cum-filled, cum-covered, barely conscious friends dizzily holding each other. It had been a productive detour, and she departed with a bounce in her step.

She returned to her exploration. Not all of her adventures were centered around lewdness; she did plenty of mundane research. For most of the day, she snooped around town and observed people in their daily lives, trying to become less clueless on how people interacted, and what certain items, places, actions, and behaviors meant in specific contexts. How society worked.

Sol wanted to know more. Not just because she wanted to solve the mystery of Zoey’s link to a Prime—though that was the excuse she kept at the forefront of her mind, considering the transgression of ignoring Mother’s directive to stay hidden—but because she was also simply curious. She had always been. And humans were, objectively, much more interesting than most lifeforms her people invaded. More dangerous, too. Hence why they had only come to this world since it should have been abandoned.

Over the following days, Sol lingered mostly in public places, since they were the easiest to find many varied reactions in. She lurked in more private ways too, though: in homes, in private conversations, and other intimate encounters.

She understood the concept of privacy, by this point, so she did feel a little guilty at the invasion, but she did so in the way of an academic: with curiosity at the forefront of her mind. Even when she peeked in on lewd encounters, Sol did so as an impartial observer.

Or, to the best of her ability. Her human body reacted in ways she didn’t always want it to. She at least kept her indiscretions invisible. The majority of people were far, far too weak to detect her presence. Sol wasn’t the strongest of her kind, but she was the Fourth Daughter. A favored of Mother. Young, inexperienced, but definitely not weak.

But some of the humans were strong, so she wasn’t completely safe in her sneaking-around. It could be difficult to tell a person’s strength at a glance, since most kept their power under wraps. Sol found it easiest to detect dangerous wayfarers through ancillary methods, rather than a direct appraisal. The size of their inventory—that odd spacial pocket they stored items in—was one such useful give-away, but also other passive abilities that weren’t masked as easily as their raw strength: their ‘skills’.

Sol had the capability of seeing magic in its raw form, which none of these humans could—from what she had seen—and that afforded her many abilities and conveniences that were simply alien to these people. That they couldn’t guard or defend against. Though she made sure to be careful; it was risky to take anything for granted in a foreign world.

Days passed as Sol slowly grew more comfortable in this fascinating society. Eventually, something caught her eye.

Or rather, someone.

Sol found the woman in an inn called The Wyrm’s Respite. Inns had become a favorite place for her to spy on people—to politely observe, she meant—since they offered a wide selection of personalities, and the crowds were easy to blend in with. She would even try her hand at casual interaction, occasionally, which usually didn’t go well, but was an exciting experience nonetheless.

Even the wayfarers—the name given to those dedicated to advancing in fields of combat magic—didn’t draw Sol’s attention much; most people passing through were simply ... uninteresting. Mundane. Sol still studied them, but they weren’t important. Not like Zoey.

But this woman. The newcomer she bumped into a few days into her observations. Sol knew immediately she was different. The woman stalked in and sat at the bar, mostly unheeded by other patrons, but only because she was clearly making an effort to not stand out. Sol saw through it. She had spent the past few days scrutinizing everything that moved, so it was clear as day.

She got the woman’s name from her curt conversation with the barkeep. Lucinda. Further observation only grew Sol’s fascination. There was something about the way the woman carried herself. A bored disdain in brown eyes as they passed over the rowdy inn.

She was an older woman, with dark hair streaked with silver done up in a tight bun. She had a severe facial structure, hard and arrogant like a predator, and what glimpses of skin Sol could catch beneath her cloak were covered with scars. Her aura was subdued, repressed to Sol’s magical senses, not giving away her strength in a concrete manner—but Sol had other methods of detecting strength.

Not that she needed them. She could tell just by looking at the woman what she was. A fighter. A killer. Not a wayfarer of the caliber she had spotted throughout the city thus far, but someone who had climbed much, much higher through those ranks. Of the thousands of people Sol had observed since coming to human territory, she knew immediately that this woman—Lucinda—was the strongest. And it wasn’t particularly close.

Brown eyes slid over to Sol, catching her staring from across the inn. It felt like cold water doused her entire body, and she hastily looked away. How had she even noticed?

Who was she?

What was her advancement? Sol had known this society hosted individuals of staggering strength—it was why the Famished weren’t eager to rush headlong into confrontation, and instead had chosen to gnaw at the edges of their society, weakening them until the time was right.

Had she run into one such juggernaut? Or was Sol reading too much into the encounter? Getting overexcited and imagining things? She could read raw magic in a way no human could—and while certain passive effects swirled around the woman of a complexity she hadn’t ever seen, it was all muted. Hidden from her, so that Sol couldn’t decipher what she was looking at. The wayfarer’s abilities were better masked than everyone else she had met, including her inventory, which was its own giveaway, but it also meant Sol couldn’t pinpoint just how much of a threat she was.