Chapter 34: Perfectly Average

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.

Martin Luther King, Jr.:

----

-------------

------------------------

“They’re... average, after all,” he remarked teasingly.

And then, there was a scream.

-----------

The boy stood in the open field, waiting.

Of course, he was waiting for the girl.

But there was something else worth noting—a vivid red handprint across his face.

Wait... what? A red handprint? How? And why? For someone as powerful as him, nothing should have been able to hurt him, let alone leave a mark like that.

So, who did it?

“That average bitch actually slapped me,” he muttered, his tone a mix of disbelief and irritation.

Ah, so she did that.

Honestly, it wasn’t his fault, okay? She just didn’t have any sense of humor.

Also, can’t a man enjoy a little view after some hard work?

Now, here he was, sitting on the ground, drawing circles in the dirt like a sulking child.

He was upset.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

So, naturally, he decided to channel his frustration the best way he knew how.

He started doing squats.

Because, honestly, what better way to burn off anger than a good workout?

And so, squat after squat, he pushed himself, the tension leaving his body with every repetition.

By the time he was done, he had calmed down.

After some time, the girl stepped out of her hiding place and presented herself in full glory.

“Oh, good of you to join us, Your Highness,” the boy drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

She caught the tone but chose to play along anyway.

“You should be honored—you even get to look at me,” she retorted, her voice equally dry.

“Shameless,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear.

“Yes, I am,” she shot back without missing a beat.

Their eyes met. The boy looked at her with an unreadable expression, and the girl stared right back, bracing herself for one of his usual cutting remarks.

But then, instead of a jab, he said, “You look cute, by the way.”

Her mind blanked. That’s cheating, she thought, her composure crumbling.

“What... What are you trying to say?” she stammered, clearly caught off guard.

“I’m saying you look ugly.”

Just as a small spark of pride had started to light up inside her, he extinguished it with one cruel flick of his words.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Fuck you,” she spat, her voice sharp with indignation.

But this time, she didn’t stop at words. Without waiting for a reply, she began marching toward the boy.

As the boy took in the sight of her, the woman strode confidently into view, sunlight catching the silver buckles of her boots. Her fitted leather pants were practical, sure, though they didn’t exactly flatter her “rear-view” situation.

Her loose linen shirt billowed slightly in the breeze, tied at the wrists with simple strings. The pale fabric contrasted sharply with the darker tones of her outfit, skillfully concealing her perfectly average-sized boobs.

A sturdy belt cinched her waist, adorned with small pouches and a dagger sheath, giving her an air of authority—or at least someone trying to look the part.

She stopped in front of him, her boots pressing firmly into the sandy earth.

“So, what is it you wanted me to see?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” he replied, his voice dripping with faux innocence.

Her look flattened. “You told me there was something else you wanted to show me.”

“And why would I say that?” he accused, mock disbelief radiating from him as if she were the one making things up.

“I don’t know,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Because you’re stupid?”

He let out a dramatic huff. “Fine. First, try using your powers.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the field in a fiery orange glow, she extended her hands, her expression laced with skepticism.

At first, nothing happened. Then—flames erupted, licking up her fingers in vibrant, swirling arcs.

Her boots pressed into the soft earth as her arms moved in a graceful sweep.

The fire obeyed her every command, roaring to life in a towering column that reached for the sky.

The heat wrapped around her, fierce but oddly gentle—like an old friend offering comfort.

She laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained, carried on the breeze tinged with the smoky scent of charred wood.

Euphoria surged through her veins, an intoxicating blend of freedom and strength. She spun, the fire swirling with her movements, alive and eager, responding to her every flick and thought.

Triumph glowed on her face as she grinned.

Beside her, the boy stood silently, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The flames reflected in his eyes, flickers of pride and awe mingling with his usual smugness. ‘They grow up so fast,’ he mused to himself.

“Well,” she said, throwing him a glance, “this is new.”

“Told you,” he replied, smirking.

Her grin faltered slightly as she examined the fire more closely. “Wait… are you sure this is safe? What if I accidentally burn something down?”

“Like what?” he asked, waving her concern away like smoke.

“I don’t know. You, maybe.”

The boy tilted his head, considering. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay on your good side.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Good plan. Because if you call my boobs ‘perfectly average’ one more time…”

Before she could finish, a small puff of flame shot toward him, singeing the edge of his sleeve. He yelped, leaping back and frantically patting at the fabric.

“Hey! That’s attempted murder!”

She shrugged, her smile growing mischievous. “Or just bad aim. You decide.”

He groaned, throwing her a pointed look. “You’re the one who called them perfectly average, not me!”

“And so what?” she fired back, the flames on her fingers flickering lazily, as if amused by the banter.

“Your shamelessness knows no bounds,” he quipped, shaking his head dramatically.

“Yep.”

He sighed again, shaking his head with exaggerated exasperation. “Fine. How do you feel?”

The fire dimmed slightly as she turned to him, her expression softening. A wide grin spread across her face, her voice breathless but steady as she said, “I feel incredible.”

He tilted his head, studying her with quiet intensity before a smirk crept back onto his face. “Guess you’re not useless after all. Honestly, I thought you’d lose your powers after breaking your contract.”

“You thought the fire was the contract?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

“The tendrils were the contract.” She clarified.

“I see.”

She turned her attention back to the flames, her fingers curling and uncurling as the fire flared brighter for a moment before settling back into its usual rhythm.

It danced around her hands, alive but controlled, as though it had always belonged there.

Slowly, she let the fire fade, a final burst of sparks scattering into the air like fleeting stars.

As the glow dimmed, she turned to him, her eyes still shimmering with the joy of discovery. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Those two words held more weight than their simplicity suggested.

He had helped her without hesitation, without needing her to ask—and for that, her gratitude ran deep.

He shrugged, his smile widening just a little. “Anytime.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or empty; it was filled with something unspoken yet understood.

It carried the weight of newfound freedom, the quiet promise of hope, and the kind of connection that needed no words to be felt.

The world ahead felt vast, full of possibilities—and she was ready to face it, with her fire and her Servant standing by her side.

The boy broke the silence, narrowing his eyes at her. “You know I can see your smile, right?”

She tilted her head, pretending ignorance. “What smile?”

He sighed but didn’t say anything more, a slight smirk also tugging at his lips.

Satisfied that she had control over her powers and was at peace with herself, she was basking in the moment's stillness.

But the boy clapped his hands together, breaking the stillness. “Alright then. Time to move. Ready to face whatever’s next?”

The fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed; if anything, it blazed brighter. “More than ready.”

And with that, they began walking toward the end of the loop, the world before them wide open and uncertain—neither seemed to mind.

==============

We are at Chapter 55 On Patreon! Link: patreon.com/TenaciousJay002