2.27 Loot IV

2.27 Loot IV

Even if Not-Zoey (the reflection? Zoey needed a better name for the creature, seeing how she shifted forms constantly) gave it her best effort to kill the three of them, and Zoey in specific, with her being the weak link, Zoey was glad they didn’t need to do the same—only defeat her.

The fight was a blur. Even more so than the first phase, the second—or third, depending on perspective—showcased just how thoroughly Zoey was outclassed by her two teammates. And by the shard boss herself.

But Rosalie and Delta pulled through. It happened in a way that didn’t make complete sense to Zoey, to be honest. One moment the reflection was looking worn down but otherwise as fluid and violent as ever, and the next she collapsed forward, plate-glass daggers skittering across the ground.

“Ah, shit,” Not-Delta said. “Okay, okay. You got me.”

Zoey’s heart pounded in her chest, the abrupt stop disorienting her. Her teammates didn’t need a second to gather themselves. They weren’t ... well, amateurs, like Zoey. A tough fight might get their blood pumping, but it didn’t leave them shaking and disoriented.

Then again, to the smallest possible defense on Zoey’s part, they hadn’t been the boss’s chosen target.

Not-Delta lay on the ground, chest heaving up and down as she stared at the ceiling. Zoey supposed it could be a ruse—that she wasn’t actually out for the count—but she doubted it. Not so much on her own intuition, but by the way Delta and Rosalie approached, taking the surrender at face value. If they thought the defeat real, enough to approach while holding their weapons aside, then it must be.

Rosalie frowned down at the creature, leaning against her spear.

“I know it’s your job,” Delta said, “but going only for Zoey was kind of a bitch move.”

Not-Delta huffed. “I knew what I was in for, with you two. Had to try to win, didn’t I?”

“The loot,” Rosalie said, apparently not caring to follow that conversation down its obvious path. “Where’s it hidden?”

“Underneath the bed.”

With one more disdainful look, she turned and headed that way.

“Should we kill her to be safe?” Delta called.

Zoey’s skin prickled, even if she had learned from Mel that boss monsters respawned when killed—reformed from whatever enigmatic energy fueled shards, formed their magical loot, and all its other perplexing functions.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Zoey said.

Delta glanced at her, then to Rosalie—who shrugged, an apparent ‘no’. Delta’s daggers vanished into her inventory. She’d used a bow for the start of the fight—her natural choice of weapon—but with how tightly the reflection was keeping to Zoey, she had figured a melee weapon smarter.

“I can barely lift my head up.” The reflection chuckled, then shrugged. “Not that I can prove it. Just go loot and head out—the exit’s down there, too.”

Delta hesitated, then did so. Zoey followed after.

“And sorry for tricking you, Zoey,” the reflection called out. “Part of the game, you know?”

Zoey paused, glancing over her shoulder. To say she had mixed feelings on the creature was understating it.

She said nothing, continuing forward.

Rosalie had shifted the bed out of the way, revealing a trapdoor. She leaned forward and gripped the handle, then, with a heave, and flexing of her muscles, ripped the huge metal slab up and tossed it to the side. It impacted the ground with a heavy clang—the kind of noise an anvil would make when being tossed aside.

Sometimes Zoey forgot just how strong Rosalie was. Her class was half attack oriented, and half defense—a brawler, so to say. So while she wasn’t the strongest a person could be for her advancement, she still had some serious oomph in her movements when she needed to bring it to bear.

Rosalie spared a look for them, something hard to read, then shuffled down the ladder.

“She’s on edge,” Delta said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“It’s ‘cause of you.”

Zoey grimaced. “I know.”

Delta patted her on the back sympathetically, then clambered down the trapdoor after Rosalie.

Delta meant, of course, the danger Zoey had been in. Rosalie had been hard-pressed to fend off the reflection’s assault, and the cuts and bruises Zoey had accrued proved it. Any of those, she knew, could have been much worse than glancing blows. Zoey didn’t have the supernatural strength Rosalie did; if she took a direct hit from the reflection, it would’ve been ... well, as fatal as a knife into the gut of any normal person. Maybe slightly less, considering they had health potions. But not easily brushed.

Zoey knew rationally she shouldn’t be ashamed at her incompetence, but she was. Hardly her fault. She was some girl from twenty-first century Earth. Swordsmanship, footwork, and spellcasting hadn’t been in her highschool curriculum. So of course she was incompetent.

And Rosalie wasn’t on edge because Zoey was proving herself a poor teammate—though true, despite the powerful advantages she offered—but because she’d been shown that setting a brutal pace might get Zoey killed. And for all Rosalie had made allusions to ‘doing whatever needed to be done’, Zoey ... didn’t think that would extend to repeatedly placing Zoey into life-threatening situations. Because that would end one way. And however determined for success Rosalie was, she wouldn’t get Zoey killed.

Had her time delving with Rosalie come to an end, because of this shard? And what it had proven? Or at least what it had highlighted? She was sure Rosalie had recognized the threat in some rational sense. In the same way Zoey had.

She followed her two teammates down the trap door.

“You know, this solves that problem,” Zoey said in realization. “That’s convenient.”

“Problem?”

Er, she’d skipped a step. “Having to wear boxers and loose-fitting pants. To avoid—you know. Being seen.”

“Shit,” Delta said, laughing. “We found you a panties of holding, didn’t we? You can just store it in a backpack, or at home. That’s awesome.” Her eyebrows raised. “Or with one of us. Who gets to be the Keeper of the Dick, Zoey?”

That was ... colorful phrasing. Zoey shook her head in amusement, and Rosalie, predictably, flushed.

“Princess will, I know,” Delta sighed dramatically. “She’d fight me if I tried to be.”

“Why can’t I be the keeper of my own dick?” Zoey asked.

“Uh, hello? Boring?” She waved for Zoey to hurry up. “Put them on.”

Zoey slipped her legs into the fabric, then tugged them up. She guided her cock—with a brief hesitance—into the murky black portal.

They popped out of the white plate-glass Rosalie was holding. Rosalie startled the smallest amount, despite having expected it.

Zoey situated the panties so they were comfortable, then patted her crotch, as amazed by the sudden lack of protrusion as she was the spatial teleportation.

“Holy fuck,” Delta said. “That’s so awesome.”

Rosalie was holding the plate-glass away from her body, as if disgusted—though Zoey knew it was more incredulity than anything. Her cock drooped over the side, soft from their thorough adventures earlier.

Delta stepped forward and flicked it. Gently—but enough to surprise her. Zoey’s hands shot to her crotch and she stepped back.

“Ow.” It hadn’t hurt, but it was a default response. “Woah. That’s weird.” Her hands had shot between her legs, but where she should’ve felt the press of her hands guarding her cock from further flicks, she only felt pressure on her thighs, where her hands brushed. Because—well, her cock wasn’t between her legs, anymore.

Rosalie held Zoey’s cock away from Delta, at least.

“See,” Zoey said. “This is why she’s the Keeper of the Dick. She’s taking good care of it.”

“Oh, I bet she will be,” Delta sneered.

“You two are ridiculous.” Rosalie huffed, then held the object out to Zoey. “Take it. It’s yours.”

Zoey accepted her cock. She turned the object in her hands, inspecting her member from angles normally impossible for her.

Seriously ... so weird.

“You could use it as a dildo,” Delta said.

Zoey’d been trying not to think of that, to little success. “What happens if I put it in my inventory?”

Both Rosalie and Delta paused.

Delta tilted her head. “Huh, I wonder.”

“Don’t try it,” Rosalie said.

“No intentions.” When it came to experimenting with strange magical artifacts, she would stick with the option that didn’t have the potential of suddenly vaporizing her cock.

As, you know. Most people would.

“Aw, but now I’m curious,” Delta said.

“We can have an artificer inspect it,” Rosalie said. “If they say it’s safe, then she can.”

Zoey agreed with that appraisal. She’d been willing to take the small risk of testing the item in the way it was intended, but questionable behavior, like putting it into her inventory while active, she would hold off on.

She paid attention back to the object in her hand. She wiggled it side to side, seeing—and feeling—her cock flop around. It felt weird. Her cock shouldn’t be flopping, and bumping against glass-like material, when Zoey was standing still.

“Here, let me see it,” Delta said, holding her hand out.

Zoey hesitated.

What was the worst that could happen?