[Chapter 9. Dronemancer's Mittens]

  The apartment was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city. Searanox walked to the kitchen, his movements fluid and sure. He opened the refrigerator, the cold air a welcome relief. He scanned the contents, his eyes searching for something that would satisfy the gnawing hunger. He found a package of raw ground beef, a relic of a forgotten meal. He took it out, the plastic wrapping cold and clammy in his hands.

  He looked at it, his mind racing. He could cook it, of course, but a strange, primal impulse urged him to do otherwise. He peeled back the plastic, the raw, red meat a stark, vibrant color in the dim light of the kitchen. He took a bite, the cold, metallic taste of the blood filling his mouth.

  `Ohhh~ yes now I want Mettbr?tchen.′

  With that in mind he takes bread rolls from the morning and starts placing a good amount of raw minced meat on them, a pinch of salt and pepper before he starts eating it. The first is gone before the the second one was even ready. The hunger subsided, a satisfied warmth spreading through his body. He felt stronger, more alive. He leaned against the counter, a smile on his face, the taste of raw meat a strange, satisfying comfort.

  The sound of the shower stopped, the sudden silence a jarring intrusion. He turned to see Iris emerging from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her torso, her fur still damp and glistening. The blood was gone, washed away, but she still looked like a creature of myth, a predator in a domestic setting. The water had darkened her fur, making it look almost black, the silver-white strands in her mane like moonlight on a dark river. She looked at him, her amber eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the kitchen.

  "That was... an interesting experience."

  she said, her voice a low, steady rumble.

  "The feeling of the hot water on my fur, the scent of the soap... it was... pleasant."

  Searanox nodded, his eyes tracing the curves of her body, the towel doing little to hide her athletic, muscular form.

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now, we need to talk about where you'll sleep."

  Iris looked around the apartment, her eyes scanning the small space with an analytical gaze.

  "but first honey, eat something."

  the sentence barely spoken as the plate with half a dozen Mettbr?tchen gets slided over the counter.

  "Mettbr?tchen,"

  Searanox said, a smirk on his face.

  "A culinary... delight of this country. Raw minced meat on a bread roll. Its a good way for you to get the... sustenance you need. Consider it your first meal as an Awakened being."

  Iris looked at the plate, her head tilted slightly, a flicker of curiosity in her amber eyes. She picked up one of the Mettbr?tchen, her movements a little clumsy, as if she were learning a new and complex skill. She took a bite, her sharp teeth tearing through the bread and meat with a satisfying crunch. She chewed slowly, her expression thoughtful.

  "It is... interesting. The texture is... unusual. But the taste is... pleasant. A good source of biological essence."

  She finished the Mettbr?tchen in a few bites, then reached for another. Searanox watched her, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

  With the hunger temporarily sated, Searanox turned his attention to the more immediate problem.

  "There's only one bed, that means today you sleep with me. And probably the rest of the days too, that is if you don't have a problem with this arrangement."

  His tone was casual, a stark contrast to the underlying tension of the proposition. Iris looked at him, her amber eyes unwavering.

  "I do not have a problem with this arrangement, Searanox."

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  she said, her voice a low, steady rumble.

  "My purpose is to serve you, to protect you. Sleeping in the same bed is a logical and efficient way to fulfill that purpose."

  Her acceptance was immediate and unconditional, a reflection of her programming and her loyalty.

  "Somehow that takes the fun out of it... well anyways Iris, would you tell me what exactly I can do with this."

  He places something on the counter that could be a fair ticket, just that this ticket is Matte black, has gold inlays and is not paper but some kind of Iron. On it stands in golden letters,

  "Class Equipment Voucher Lv.5"

  The query materialized in the center of his vision, a stark, glowing prompt that seemed to hang in the air between them. The voucher felt cold and heavy in his hand, a tangible representation of the power he had gained. He looked at Iris, her expression calm and analytical.

  "Never mind that, it just answered itself. What do you think, Iris? What would be the most useful equipment for a Level 5 Dronemancer?"

  Iris's eyes scanned the voucher, her mind clearly processing the information.

  "Based on my administrative knowledge and the current situation, I'd recommend a weapon or a tool that enhances your drone's capabilities or your own defensive abilities. A Dronemancer's strength lies in their constructs, so enhancing them would be a logical investment. A personal defense item would also be prudent, as you are the primary target in any conflict."

  He focused on the voucher, the query still hanging in the air.

  `Show me available options for a Level 5 Dronemancer, prioritizing items that enhance drone capabilities.′

  The query changed, the text shifting and reformatting to accommodate his request. A new window appeared, a list of items that seemed to stretch into infinity. He scanned the options, his mind racing.

  "Iris my dear, there is an Item that is Listed as an Set Item, since I'm very familiar with these kind of things that is not the issue. The first effect is simple it doubles my Drone Limit, but the full set effect is that the all Summon Skills are One Tier higher. What exactly is a Skill Tier?"

  Iris's expression became more focused, her mind clearly accessing her administrative knowledge.

  "A Skill Tier, or Tier level, is a measure of a skill's power and complexity. A higher Tier skill is more effective, more versatile, and often has additional effects that lower Tier skills lack. For a Dronemancer, this could mean a more powerful drone, a drone with additional abilities, or a drone that is more resilient. The full set effect would be a significant upgrade to your combat effectiveness."

  "Then I will take the set item."

  The decision was made, a calculated risk based on his gaming experience. He knew that set items were often some of the most powerful equipment in any game, and this one was no exception. The voucher dissolved in his hand, a shower of golden light that was absorbed into his skin. A new window appeared, its text a glowing confirmation of his choice.

  "So a Skill has a Level and that Set would upgrade not the level but its Grade?"

  Iris shock her head, her expression a mix of disapproval.

  "Not quite, Searanox. The Skill Level is tied to your own Level and progression. The Skill Tier, is tied to your level and its Grade. To Advance a Skills Tier you have to Advance its Grade, which you have to advance through level and consumption of rare items."

  The explanation was clear and concise, a stark contrast to the complex, often confusing mechanics of the games he used to play.

  "Alright then, a time and money sink..."

  He focuses on the first Item of the Set: Experimental Magitech Version VII.

  A metallic gauntlet materialized on Searanox's right arm, the plates interlocking with a series of soft clicks. It was lightweight, yet it felt solid, reassuringly real. He flexed his fingers, the movement smooth and effortless, the gauntlet responding to his will as if it were a part of him.

  "This is the first piece of the set, the Gauntlet."

  he said, his voice a low, steady rumble.

  "Now I can punch my enemies to death."

  He looked at the Gauntlet, a predatory smile on his face, the cold, metallic feel a welcome comfort. He looked at Iris, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

  "What do you think, Iris? Does it make me look more intimidating?"

  Iris tilted her head, her amber eyes scanning the gauntlet.

  "It is... impressive, Searanox. It is a clear indication of your power and status as a Progenitor. It is a statement of intent."

  Her response was analytical, a stark contrast to the pride he was feeling.