Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Alex unlocked the door and stepped out into the cool air of the shop.
The Half-Elf shopkeeper was tapping on her data pad, but her head snapped up the moment he got out.
Her eyes widened slightly, watching over him from his hooded head to his silk-clad legs. A slow, appreciative smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Well now," she purred, leaning her elbows on the glass counter, emphasizing her own cleavage. "That is a significant improvement. The black really brings out the... porcelain quality of your skin."
She gestured to his face, which was now framed by the dark hood.
"You have a very... distinct look, young man. Or is it a young lady? It's hard to tell with that robe," she winked playfully. "But the fit is perfect. The 'Active Briefs' are comfortable, I assume?"
Alex felt his face heat up, a blush spreading across his pale cheeks. "They... yes. They fit."
"I thought they might," she smiled, tapping the register. "That material is infused with cooling runes and a cleaning spell that can be used twice a day."
"It prevents... friction burns. Essential for adventurous types… and can be used without any need for washing."
She paused, her gaze lingering on his lips.
"That will be 1,200 credits for the set. A high price, but for skin as precious as yours... I'd say it's an investment."
Alex stared at the digital readout on the register: 1,200 Credits.
A lump formed in his throat. That was nearly three months of living expenses for him and Uncle John.
A week ago, Alex would have fainted.
But then he felt the cool, frictionless glide of the silk pants against his inflamed legs and the gentle, seamless cup of the briefs holding him in place.
"I'll take them," Alex said, his voice slightly hoarse.
He pulled out his mobile, tapping it against the sensor.
The machine beeped, confirming the transfer.
His bank account balance plummeted, but for the first time in two days, he wasn't in excruciating pain.
"Receipt?" the shopkeeper asked, her eyes still fixed on him.
She wasn't looking at him like a customer anymore; she was looking at him like a rare artifact she wanted to keep on a shelf.
Or perhaps, something she wanted to unwrap.
"No receipt," Alex mumbled, pocketing his phone.
"You know," the woman said, her voice dropping an octave as she leaned further over the counter. Her fingers idly traced the rim of a glass display case.
"We offer private fittings, too. If you find the... 'active briefs' too constraining as your condition progresses, I can custom tailor something more... open."
"Come back when you shed the next layer. I have some lovely oils that can help with the... sensitivity."
"I—I'm fine. Thank you," Alex didn't ask how she knew.
"Come back soon, honey," she called out as he turned for the door. "The name is Vara. Ask for me."
He just pulled his hood up and hurried out the door, back into the noise of the city, feeling a little less naked, but somehow, even more exposed.
"Much better," Alex sighed as he kept his head down, silently walking through the crowded street towards the Gene Association to check on the information about the recent 'Out-Brake' (Void Rift).
An Out-Break is a situation where a Void rift opens and connects to a different dimension which results in monsters invading the Blue Star.
"Make way! Clear the road!"
However, just around the store corner, towards the inner district main gate, the flow of the crowd suddenly stopped.
"It's the private army... look at that crest."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the adventurers and merchants like a tide.
"What are they pulling? That cart looks heavy."
A large group of adventurers gathered together, blocking the path, discussing something in hushed, excited tones.
Alex tried to squeeze past, but the crowd was too dense.
Marching down the center of the wide cobblestone road was a squad of soldiers.
They moved with mechanical precision, their boots hitting the stones in a rhythmic, intimidating thud-thud-thud.
They wore polished silver armor with blue accents, and their capes fluttered in the wind.
At the lead, dominating the street, was a Knight, sitting atop a mutated monster.
It was a mutated black hound, but calling it a "hound" was an insult to nature.
The beast was the size of a small car, with large, rippling muscles under sleek, midnight-black fur.
It looked nothing short of a large black wolf, its eyes glowing red, and saliva dripping from jaws that could snap a man in half.
Behind the knight were twelve heavily armed soldiers.
They were dragging a reinforced armor truck with thick, reinforced wheels that groaned under the weight.
Behand the truck was a large cage, completely covered by a thick, heavy canvas cloth.
Whatever was inside was silent, but the air around the truck was filled with a strange, heavy pressure that made the hair on Alex's arms stand up.
"What is that?" Alex whispered, shrinking back into the shadow of a building.
Then, the wind shifted.
It caught the banner the Knight was carrying, unfurling it for a split second.
It was a blue flag embroidered with a silver dragon riding a whirlwind.
"That's Lady Clara's personal guard," one of the adventurers muttered nearby, his voice low. "The Baroness doesn't send them out for small jobs."
Alex's breath stopped. He recognized that crest. He had seen it on the expensive silk robes of the woman from a few days back.
"What the fuck are they doing here?" The thought hammered in Alex's brain, panic rising in his chest.
He pressed his back harder against the rough brick wall of the shop he was hiding behind.
"Careful!" the Knight on the mutated hound shouted, his voice booming over the rattle of the cart.
He yanked the reins of the massive black beast, which let out a low, guttural growl. "Baroness Windrake wants this delivered to the estate intact. No mistakes."
"Yes, Sir!" the soldiers shouted back in unison. Their discipline was terrifying; not a single step was out of sync.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the soldiers moved toward the inner district gate. The sheer pressure coming off the group was suffocating.
"Must be a high-level monster," a female adventurer dressed in casual robes whispered to her companion, standing just a few feet away from Alex.
She leaned in close, shielding her mouth. "Or a person. You know how Lady Clara gets about... collecting."
Alex swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. The implication in the woman's tone made his skin crawl.
Lady Clara, Baroness Windrake… was known for her eccentricities, but seeing her private army this close was like a wake-up call to him.
Curiosity, however, was a dangerous drug.
Despite the fear knotting his stomach, Alex felt strange as he took a deep breath, focusing his mind.
He channeled the strange energy coursing through his body, pushing it toward his eyes.
'Feral Gaze.' The world instantly shifted.
The colors of the street, the gray cobblestones, and the silver armor all faded into the background.
In their place, the world became a map of heat signatures and spirit auras.
He looked straight at the cage.
The thick canvas cloth, designed to block normal sight, was useless against his thermal vision.
Inside the cage, another huge shape was coiled tight.
It wasn't warm like a mammal, but it had a distinct, pulsating core of magical energy that generated a cold, greenish heat signature.
It was a long, thick body, packed with muscle, wound around itself like a spring ready to snap.
The head was triangular and large, resting atop the coils.
"Fuck... isn't that Iron Head?" He blinked, deactivating the skill with some surprise as he immediately recognized what they were transporting.