Yellow lines hung in the air.
Not projected onto anything—just there, like a screen burned directly onto her vision. Noa turned her head sharply, but the screen stayed fixed in front of her face. That was deeply inconvenient. It would block her view whenever she—
The screen slid aside.
It repositioned itself to her left, hovering at a slight angle, like the second monitor on her computer desk. Her mind turned it over. She tested it, thinking move right, and it glided obediently to the other side. A slow, careful thought sent it drifting upward.
She could will the screen anywhere. But it was open on old notifications.
! Lazil’s eyes cannot see you
! Lazil’s eyes cannot see you
! Proposal: Y/N
! Your status: Engaged
! Quest available: Marriage
! Nexus present: Activate marriage?
! Marriage: Y/N
! Status: Married
! Sync complete
! Lazil’s eyes cannot see you
A cold unease slid down her spine.
She had seen the words but not had time to process them. Now they were blunt, exposed by language. Lazil’s eyes cannot see you. How was Noa supposed to ask what that meant? Was it normal? She shoved the implications aside before panic could take root. Benjera said there was something psychic in her head already. She could pretend she didn’t hate that so that she could focus on what was in front of her.
Her gaze snapped to the top of the interface.
Human.
Relief loosened something tight in her chest. Of course she was, but the question had frightened her. Why had he asked? The rest of it might as well have been written in static. Class. Faction. Quest points. Skills. She didn’t have skills. She barely had a body that felt like it belonged to her right now.
The only part she cared about was magic.
Lostwalk: move [1][meter] per [3] mana per target
Fold: requirement [Chrosn Nexus] create fold for [10,000] mana
That was it.
Her thumbnail drifted to her mouth without conscious thought. The stiff acrylic caught between her teeth, pressure grounding in a way breathing wasn’t. Her nailbed complained. Her burned arms complained louder. Pain pulsed in slow, molten waves beneath her skin.
She was too overwhelmed. She needed something solid. Something tactile.
Benjera knelt beside her and grounded her awareness. Her screen vanished from her as she looked at her brown-eyed husband. The word hit her, strange and unreal. He looked stressed, shadows gathered beneath his brow. He smelled like wet earth and metal and something warm underneath it—a quiet, unmistakably human scent.
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This was her husband.
“Can you stand?” he asked her in a low voice that was just above a whisper.
“Yes,” she said.
She shifted—and a large, warm hand curved around her ribs, steadying her. The contact was careful, deliberate support. He didn’t move away right after. His gaze settled on her like a weighted blanket pulled up in winter. Heavy. Protective. Anchoring.
Was he going to kiss her?
Her brain fizzed, panic and possibility bursting like soda foam.
“I can carry you,” he said, then hesitated, brow knitting together further as he looked at something. “Hold on, I have one left.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he turned and strode down the stairs. His wet boots squelched softly against the roots as he descended into the clearing where the wolves lay dead. Noa watched him reach the narrow bridge spanning the void well. It looked even thinner from above now. Smaller. More final.
Then the world lurched.
With a gasp of displaced air that felt like it came from the very earth, Benjera moved.
Reality smeared as he shot through the forest in a blur of motion too quick to properly track. Noa’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes struggled to keep up.
He stopped as suddenly as he’d vanished, yanking a hexapedal wolf up by the back of its neck with one arm. It fought violently, all teeth and limbs and snarling breath. He wrenched the creature’s face downward with his free arm, pinned its face between forearms, and a dagger flashed into his other hand—she hadn’t even seen him draw it.
The blade opened the wolf’s throat in one clean line. She vaguely remembered hearing something. Pulling the neck back made it harder to get a clean cut. Benjera pushed the wolf’s head down to make the cut deeper into softer flesh.
He held it as it shuddered, then discarded the body with a shove and jogged back toward her, eyes tracking the tree-line the entire way. Blood coated his forearms. A dark smear streaked his chest.
A message appeared in her line of sight.
! Benjera Venn completed Quest: Slayer
Quest points 12 >>> 18
“Now we can leave,” he said calmly, hopping back up the steps and collecting his scattered gear. Pausing only to cough.
She stared at the forest behind him in awe. He had just assassinated a monster like he realized he forgot to take out the trash.
This was her husband.
She followed in a daze, a silent duckling in his wake. Benjera shot her a sideways glance while wiping his arms with an already ruined rag. Then he went to the railing. He scooped up Noa’s purse that she had forgotten, and tucked it neatly into his dripping pack beside his discarded shirt.
How did he know where it was?
Noa reassessed her sanity again. Her mind broke and gave her a hot husband. It was ridiculous. It was unnerving. This was really happening as far as her mind and body could tell. Benjera Venn. Her husband.
“Missed a spot,” she mumbled, pointing at his chest.
He looked down, wiped at the blood splatter, then met her eyes again.
“Anywhere else?” he asked seriously.
“No,” she said quickly, scrambling for normal words, “You clean up nice.”
The compliment was awkward and felt like a lie and a truth at the same time. It earned her a brief, restrained smile—tight-lipped, still edged with his habitual scowl.
Then he wordlessly swept her up into his arms like she was made of paper.
Noa’s face flared hot.
“What?” he asked, immediately studying her expression.
“I’m… your wife?” she asked him blankly.
His scowl vanished, surprise cutting it clean away as he looked down at her.
“My wife,” he confirmed softly.
And carried her away.
