What XP Decides

A moment later, the dust settled, and the forest returned to silence. The air was still fresh, but the grass was now covered in a layer of pale blue ice crystals, threaded with faint streaks of blood.

They were terrifyingly powerful!

The three Winged Fae lowered from the giant net first rejoiced at having survived the disaster, then looked at the two newcomers with awe in their eyes.

Even the habitually hot-tempered Habetrotrot obediently shut her mouth and forced out a grateful smile.

Just moments ago, more than a dozen Fang Tribe members who had shown hostility toward them had all been smashed into scraps scattered across the ground.

The rest had tucked their tails between their legs and fled without a trace.

In gratitude for being rescued, and intimidated by the unconcealable majesty radiating from the two visitors' every gesture, the three Winged Fae behaved as meekly as could be, introducing themselves while sincerely thanking Samael and Morgan.

The future chief of the Winged Tribe, Muriian; Habetrotrot, the Fae Knight from another timeline; and Freya, the little one who bore goodwill toward humans.

Tsk, what a coincidence. They were all familiar figures from his memories.

These three were rare Fae who raised the moral standards of the Winged Tribe.

Samael, who possessed foreknowledge, studied the three little ones with a dark gaze, raising a hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

The invisible scrutiny made the Fae uneasy. Freya, the most timid among them, soon gave in. Like a little white rabbit meekly delivering herself to the door, she lifted her small face and asked tremulously.

"Y-you're going to eat us too?"

"Uh, Fae aren't on my menu for now..."

Samael came back to himself, coughed lightly, and teased her in a contemplative tone.

As for the future, who knew?