Sworded Affair

Chapter 167: All Quiet on the Home Front

“Come on! You have to eat properly, or you’ll never grow up to be big and strong.”

Saint chastised, raising a paw for emphasis. The branch overhead rattled at her command, shaking its captured bounty of rats, squirrels and the odd frog. This wasn't strictly necessary, as cuts of cold meat were readily available in the freezer, but Saint still did her best to keep the garden free of pests, and they had to go somewhere. The potted hydra turned away, a pair of green heads burying themselves deep in the plant pot, refusing to meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to eat them all. At least eat one, I’ll leave the rest here for later.”

Saint rattled the branch again, and this time its head snapped up to grab one of the squirrels, swallowing the rodent whole before retreating, all of this in under a second.

“Good hydra. I’ve set the cloud to water you in an hour, then I’ll be back to check up on you at dinner.”

The recalcitrant hydra burbled, still too young to attempt anything approaching speech. Glancing up, Saint confirmed that a fat grey rain cloud hovered over the garden, ready to discharge its contents, before turning away and heading back inside.

[Two heads already, at such a young age. Modern pet rearing practices are truly wonderful; in the wild, it would take anywhere between three to five times as long!]

Heading over to an open cupboard, Saint dug around for her own dinner, a can of Purina Gourmet cat food.

[Your own diet, on the other hand, could use some improvements. We still have nearly half the most recent delivery of Bastet’s Banquet.]

“I told you, I’m not a fan of chicken,” Saint sniffed. “It doesn’t matter how you dress it up, chicken will never compare to a nice, fat, juicy turkey.”

[Weren’t you just lecturing the Hydra about having to eat properly, even if he didn’t like what was on offer?]

“Hydra is a growing boy who needs his nutrition. I am already an adult, and reserve the right to indulge in my favourite junk food on occasion.”

[There’s a word for that: hypocrisy. Honestly, the food’s all so processed, I’m surprised you can tell the difference.]

Ignoring her troublesome ancestor, Saint placed a paw on the can of Purina Gourmet, applying a few hundred years of decomposition to the lid and only the lid. Soon, the last of the steel turned to rust, easily removed with a few swipes of her claws.

[Also, why are you using a component of my greatest spell to get at your food? The can opener in the kitchen cupboard would be easier and quicker.]

“You said practising magical control is important. I’m just following your advice, teacher.”

[Like hell are you following-]

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted their dinnertime conversation, much to Saint’s annoyance. Loping over to the front of the house in three easy steps, Saint conjured another branch from the wooden door frame, forming it into a makeshift hand with which to answer the door.

“Delivery for a Miss Saint?”

The town mailman declared, reading the label of a package with visible confusion on his face.

“That would be for me.”

“Noah’s cat?” He asked disbelievingly, lowering his head to stare at Saint. “Since when can you talk?”

“Welcome to the apocalypse, things are weird here,” Saint deadpanned, her branch moving to take the package from his hands.

“Hold on,” the mailman protested. “I still need you to sign for that!”

Saint slammed the door in his face, ignoring the pained yelp that ensued. Then, because she could be petty, she pricked a paw on a small metal spike at the base of the door, activating the bloodward that would deny entry to anyone outside of the Knight family.

“That’ll teach you to call me Noah’s cat,” Saint scoffed.

Despite appearances though, she was in a very good mood, strutting back towards the garden with her package in tow, with dinner long forgotten in her excitement.

[Well now. When did you order that?]

“I stole the big stamp and filled in a requisition form while he was out inspecting the town jail. Something about a dead man in custody? Anyway, the important thing is that it worked, and now, I’ve got my hands on some pristine organic catnip seeds! I’ve been waiting for this for days now, you must not have noticed, with your focus being on Emma at the time.”

[She was fighting for her life inside a bubble of distorted time, can you blame me for prioritising? Also, hold on, you borrowed Noah’s mayoral seal to order recreational drugs? Since when could you read and write?]

Saint paused, midway into tearing open the package with her claws.

“Um. I took night classes?”

[Very funny.

I must have been very distracted to miss this, but no longer.

Beginning System recalibration.

Saint - Level 14 Druid of War

Disposition: Languid >>> Mischievous

Intelligence: Enlightened Animal >>> Human adjacent

Magic: Anemic >>> Average

Prerequisites met.

Racial evolution initiated.]

“Yeow!”

Saint jumped as her tail lit on fire, both literally and metaphorically, the appendage glowing with blinding orange light concentrated at the tip. She began running in circles, attempting to chase down the phantom attacker savaging her tail, to no avail. From the top down, her singular tail split and became two, each as thick as the progenitor and thrashing independently of the other, before gradually settling down as the pain faded.

[Congratulations!

Racial evolution successful.

Race: Cat >>> Nekomata.]

“Ooh, neat!”

Stopping in place, Saint twisted her neck around, pawing at her twin tails in fascination and making them wobble.

“What bonuses do I get from being a Nekomata?”

[A second tail.]

“Besides that!”

[You’re inherently a magical being now, and don’t need to make an active effort to interact with spirits, seals and the like. This can be both good and bad, depending on the situation. Anything else will come later, as Nekomata naturally grow stronger with age. You’re still a kitten, by Youkai standards, so don’t worry about it.]

“A kitten? How dare you, I am an adult cat!”

[You have to eat properly, or you’ll never grow up to be big and strong.]

“Screw you.”