Visitors at the Residence

Before this, Meiya's impression of Blade Tusk had always been limited to things like "the founder of the Witch Doctor path," "a serious scholar," and "his lectures are so obscure."

But ever since the "system conference" several months ago, that fixed impression had changed to some extent.

She remembered very clearly that the way Blade Tusk had looked at her then carried a certain unusual feeling, vaguely like a flame teasing every inch of her skin.

Though Meiya did not think herself an ugly girl, she was not blind, and she had a clear understanding of how the vast majority of male Trolls in the tribe regarded her.

Under such circumstances, Blade Tusk's special treatment had easily drawn the attention of this Troll girl who was about to fully mature.

She felt both curious and inexplicably excited.

Unfortunately, everyone had been far too busy lately. Not only had Witch Doctor Blade Tusk been keeping to himself, continuing his research as always, but she herself had also been tied up by the endless stream of new issues brought about by the tribe's new system.

But today, with some long-awaited free time at last, Meiya decided to set out on a journey of discovery.

Her scarlet hair was swept back from her forehead, cascading down along her neck and spine; among the loose strands, one could occasionally spot thin little braids woven in as decoration.

Around her neck was a cord made from plant fibers mixed with animal sinew, fastening a curved rib bone across her chest at armpit level. A "curtain" woven from animal hair hung from it along the curve, draping down before her lower abdomen.

Further down, vines stripped of their excess leaves were wound tightly around her waist, securing curtains of the same material as her upper garment, which hung down in front and behind past her hips.

As she walked, alternating her steps, the curtains swayed from side to side and up and down.

Then, through the gaps and the openings at either side, one could vaguely glimpse fit, voluptuous blue skin.

Clearly, she had dressed herself up with great care.

Yet the passing males did not seem to care much for this style. After casually greeting her, they returned to their own affairs.

But Meiya did not care what those barbaric kinsmen thought. As she focused on thinking, What should I say later? she headed toward Blade Tusk's residence.

Although, after the number of Witch Doctors and Witch Doctor apprentices had increased, they no longer lived clustered at the center of the tribe, the tribe itself was not large. It did not take her long to reach her destination.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Witch Doctor Blade Tusk? Witch Doctor Blade Tusk?"

A neither-soft-nor-loud knock sounded together with the female Troll's voice, made as gentle as she could manage.

Yet no response came from within for a long while.

Meiya was puzzled. She had not heard that he had gone out.

Seeing that repeated knocking and calling brought no answer, she made several leaps, using the uneven wall to reach the roof, then peered inside through the skylight.

At a glance, she immediately spotted the Troll figure inside, unconscious and holding a bizarre posture.

Without time to think, she crouched and slipped in through the skylight. A height of six or seven meters could not stop her; she landed directly beside Blade Tusk.

Both publicly and privately, Meiya was somewhat anxious. Uneasily, she reached out and placed a hand against Blade Tusk's chest, listening for the sounds of his organs.

The result let her breathe a sigh of relief. His organs were functioning strongly and powerfully—his life was clearly in no danger.

She was no longer in a hurry. With one arm, she drew Blade Tusk into her embrace, while her free hand pressed against his forehead. Amid a chant and a faint green glow, she cast an origin-unknown "Focus Spell."

Blade Tusk's consciousness gradually returned, accompanied by waves of headache so intense that he could not spare any attention to assessing his own situation.

Partly because he had already been in the tribe before losing consciousness and knew he was unlikely to encounter danger, but the main reason he ignored everything now was simply that the pain had come too fiercely.

Yet his body's pursuit of comfort did not seem to have been drowned out by the suffering in his mind.

It was as though the pain of his primary consciousness had little to do with the rest of him. Driven by instinct, he kept shifting his posture, wriggling left and right like a pig that had sneaked in to eat cabbages.

The curtain fastened only at the top had long since fallen wide open, and sharp fangs occasionally grazed resilient blue skin.

There were no real wounds, only streaks of pale marks, along with soft moans that could not be held back.

A little itchy, and a little thrilling.

By the time Blade Tusk was truly about to wake, a long time had already passed.

His eyes shifted slightly, but did not open. He seemed caught in a hazy state between waking and sleep.

Blade Tusk moved unconsciously. What his face was resting on did not seem to be his familiar heartwood pillow.

Um... it was a strange feeling.

Tough and smooth, like rubber, yet with a hint of skin's texture.

Strictly speaking, this was a sensation that should not have stirred any romantic thoughts, but what was this lively excitement coursing through his body?

!!!Isn't this what Troll skin feels like?!!

Finally realizing something, Blade Tusk immediately opened his eyes and sprang away, turning to look at the source of that strange sensation.

At that glance, it was as if two fan blades had been stuffed into his eyes, showing five parts vigilance, four parts confusion, and one part expectation carefully kept from leaking out.

The person before him—never mind whether she was dressed with any dignity; at the very least, she was barely clothed.

"Ahem."

The owner of the voice clearly did not care much. She merely adjusted her clothes, letting all those complicated and somewhat useless strands fall back into their proper places, then asked with concern, "Witch Doctor Blade Tusk, how are you? You were already unconscious when I came in, and you had quite a lot of nosebleed too."

As she spoke, she even pointed to the spots on her body that had been accidentally rubbed against, proving that she had rushed in to save the Troll in a moment of urgency, not that she was some bad Troll barging in for no reason.

Blade Tusk was startled by her bold manner and instinctively moved to close his eyes—see no evil.

But before he could, he realized there was no need. These Trolls had yet to develop any sense of shame over exposed bodies. If not for keeping filthy things from crawling inside, they would have been perfectly happy to stay with the naturists.

And this one, at least, was wearing clothes. Her clothing was simply more exquisite, more ingenious.

Since that was the case, he stopped being coy and looked over openly.

Well, wasn't this Meiya? Only a few days apart, and she had even more new tricks.

He gave an awkward cough, putting on an air of serene indifference. He walked over, sat cross-legged beside Meiya, and only then said, "Cough, cough. I conducted some meditation experiments involving energy. My mental power got hit by a wave of information. What time is it now?"

"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention when I left, and after coming to your place, there was even less way to tell."

The female Troll drew her arms close together, extended her two joined fists against the ground, and kept her upper body facing the direction where Blade Tusk sat.

Perhaps the posture was a little awkward to maintain, so she had no choice but to cross her long legs and let them wind toward her side and back like a snake's tail. Leaning forward and tilting her head up, she replied, "Y-you came here for something?"

"Nothing in particular. I just felt that the way you look at me seems different from how the other males do, so I wanted to ask—do you want to mate with me?"

"Cough, cough, cough!"