Chapter 217: awkward moments.
The words uttered felt strangely fresh, like a newborn, learning how to speak.
Her body?
Not entirely bare, though her form was hardly clothed either, the young spirit knelt on the soft ground with only broad green leaves covering parts of her body.
Her skin carried a faint shimmer of dew, like bark kissed by morning light.
She smiled foolishly, bright, unguarded, a smile so wide it seemed to split her face, as though this single moment was all she had ever longed for.
Well, for a creation to be graced with the knowledge that her creator was present, how can it not make her happy?
Her gaze locked onto Mize, radiant and trembling.
“C–rator,” she whispered again, the word slipping clumsily off her tongue.
“Indeed I am, child”
Mize’s reply was calm, her tone warm, merely affection, as though she had been called a name she already knew.
She lifted her hand, fingers moving in the air with grace.
From across the distance, the spirit’s head tilted to match the motion, as if unseen strings bound her.
Mize's smile deepened, her lips parting in awe. “You really are a perfect copy of him…”
“C–rator!” the spirit repeated, this time louder, almost beaming.
The sound of it tumbled awkwardly from her mouth, every syllable loose, her speech uneven.
She knew what she wanted to say, but her tongue betrayed her, fumbling like a child’s first attempt at words.
It was natural, she had only just been born into a body.
It would take time for thought and flesh to find balance.
Mize watched her closely, her expression touched with satisfaction. “So it’s a physical manifestation… interesting.”
"The idea was just to design the seed and the ability. I wasn't expecting for a physical manifestation of the tree spirit herself"
The words were not directed to the spirit so much as to herself, an observation spoken aloud, a simple note about her own creation.
The seed of life had a single purpose.
Nothing sentimental, nothing wasted.
It was designed to give birth to a legion, an endless tide of Broken Blade warriors.
Like a machine, but alive. This whole huge tree that towered the city, it became a machine.
But not through the crude method most might assume.
No bloodlines, no children born of flesh.
The process was far more efficient.
It began with an intake of warp energy, absorbed endlessly from the void, which was then cycled through the tree itself.
In time, the tree would produce fruits, living vessels, born ready, fully equipped, and aged.
Explaining it in simple words was difficult.
“Alvran,” Mize said, breaking her own thoughts.
She decided to see the process itself.
The man standing nearby startled at the sound of his name.
His usual mask of composure cracked in an instant.
He straightened almost too fast, his eyes lit with excitement he never showed to the outside world. “M–Master. You know my name... I mean, yes, Master. I didn't notice my name had been spoken earlier... ”
"What an honour it is!"
His voice shook, not with fear but with the eagerness of someone acknowledged directly by the one they worshipped.
Mize hardly minded. She had expected as much.
To her, these beings were children, crafted from her hands, born of her will.
Their loyalty was not something she questioned.
“You should know how the tree spirit functions,” Mize continued, coughing...
Her tone was calm, like a teacher addressing a pupil. “The information embedded in the seed was more than enough to guide you. Operating her should not be a problem for you.”
“I understand it all, Master. My creator.” Alvran bowed his head once, voice firming as he spoke.
Then his gaze shifted to the spirit still kneeling on the ground, her wide smile unbroken even as she tilted her head curiously toward him.
His lips twitched, and he allowed himself words he wouldn’t normally dare to speak aloud. “And since she and I are one… she could be considered my wife. My partner.”
Mize’s lips curved faintly, the closest thing to humor she allowed herself. “I see. So you’re no longer a lonely stiff smiler, are you?”
“Thank you for this gift, Master.”
“Tank u!” the spirit echoed brightly, clumsily bowing as she copied Alvran, her posture all wrong, her hands fumbling to balance herself.
It was childish, endearing in its lack of grace.
Mize’s eyes softened for a brief moment, though her expression remained outwardly calm.
She hadn’t anticipated this particular outcome, the seed birthing a bond as much as a body.
Yet, it was not unwelcome.
Unexpected, yes, but not a flaw. In her book, even this was acceptable.
“Show me your ability, child.” Mize waved her hand lightly, a subtle gesture.
Then, she floated there, blinking curiously as she watched the two.
'According to my will, the clones created this seed to function as a creation machine for broken blade warriors'
'So, all she needed to do is to absorb the warp energy in the void and use it'
'So Alvran just needed to aid her in this process'
'I wonder how the processes would look like'
Then under her watchful eyes.
Alvran looked at the spirit.
She looked back at him.
Their eyes met, an unspoken exchange passing between them.
They both nodded slightly.
"Let's do it"
Mize waited, expecting to see the demonstration of the tree’s functions, perhaps a small burst of power, or at least a display of resonance between them.
Instead, something else entirely unfolded.
Under Mize’s eyes.
Under her serious deadpanned gaze.
Smooch.
The two kissed.
Her mind froze.
????
!!!!
Alvran and the tree spirit leaned into each other clumsily, their arms wrapping in an awkward hug.
Their faces pressed together, lips mashing without rhythm, their eyes screwed tightly shut.
Mize blinked once.
…Huh.
…Wait.
This was absolutely not apart of the designs.
She kept her face composed, her body still.
No one could know her surprise, not even her own creations.
To falter now would chip the image she carried, the aloof, untouchable air of the Creator.
And yet, in front of her, Alvran and the spirit seemed entirely oblivious.
They continued, unhurried, leaning into each other as if no one else was present.
With zero experience, and no awareness of how awkward they looked, they treated the act as though it were proof of partnership, proof of something they believed was expected of them.
Husband and wife, bound by existence itself.
Mize did not move. Her eyes stayed flat, her lips steady.
Inside, her heart groaned.
'S-should I tell them to stop? What's happening here?'
'This is not apart of the designs'
She was forced to watch them, watch her “children,” her creation, earnestly making out like awkward newlyweds, with all the sincerity and none of the skill.
Alvran saw Mize's reactions, deadpanned, as if unimpressed.
'Mother is not satisfied? Damn it, I will do better!' And then, he went for it with all of his heart.
Indifferent on the outside, wailing within, Mize endured.
As Alvran suddenly took the lead and began...
Mating.
Pah!
Pah!
Pah!
And by the time she knew it, she got hooked by the scene until Alvran's semen was delivered into the tree spirit's womb.
Kissing while at it.
Mize’s cheeks were still faintly red, though her expression didn’t falter.
She held herself steady, calm as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, her breathing even and her posture unbroken.
'Holy shit, what the hell?'
Not a bead of sweat showed despite the intimacy that had just taken place.
At last, the heat of the embrace came to an end.
The two separated, their movements slow, almost ceremonial, before dressing themselves once more.
Alvran, now properly clothed, stood straight, then lowered himself down with military precision.
His hand rose in a firm salute before he dropped to one knee in front of her.
“My master,” he said, voice unwavering, “I have made love with my wife and given her a vast amount of seed.”
His face carried no hint of jest.
The tone was firm, delivered with a seriousness that allowed no room for doubt.
By his side, the tree spirit, just as composed, nodded in confirmation.
Her face mirrored his solemnity, her movement steady, up and down, as if sealing his words with approval.
Though the faint shaking of her legs stated something else.
Mize blinked, momentarily at a loss.
For a heartbeat, silence pressed into the chamber.
She wasn’t sure what to say to such an earnest declaration, yet the act had to continue.
Dropping the momentary hesitation, she straightened her back, her gaze narrowing, cooler.
With a deliberate calm, she muttered, her face set into a look so unwavering it seemed carved from stone, “Then now… show me how many warriors you can create in a single day.”
Shameless her, 'But really, maybe I should do it too with Liam later?'
The words carried an unshaken tone, and Alvran’s wife responded at once. She dipped her chin, eyes lowering before closing fully.
The change was immediate.
The chamber’s walls began to ripple, as if alive.
The solid surfaces warped and shifted, losing their familiar shape.
Before their eyes, wood-like textures spread out, weaving into patterns that resembled bark.
A creaking sound filled the air, low and steady, as the walls gave way to twisting forms.
Slowly, the chamber reshaped itself.
The walls contorted into branches, each thick enough to dwarf the figures within the room.
The wooden mass twisted upward, extending and bending, until one enormous branch loomed over them.
At its tip, the wood bent inward, forming a perch in the chamber’s center.
From it, a bud emerged, swelling rapidly, layers unfolding in a slow bloom.
Petals spread apart, wider and wider, revealing the core.
Within moments, a massive fruit pushed forth, round and weighty, glowing faintly from its surface as if alive.
The flower shivered, its edges trembling.
Then, in a single violent burst.
Boom!
The sound shook the chamber, echoing off the newly formed walls.
"This is!"