Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 120

Akira gave a weary smile and breathed a sigh of relief, just to know that Kanna was alive and well.

“I’m…so glad you’re okay.”

“Heh. I think that’s supposed to be my line,” she replied, as her smile then faded. “But seriously…take it easy,” she warned. “I’m totally fine—you’re the one who I just found wrapped in a giant cocoon, a few minutes away from becoming spider food.”

“How is it that you’re not transformed?” He stumbled, in his efforts to walk on legs that were still numb with the lingering effects of paralysis, but Kanna caught him. After which he tiredly lifted his head to look up at her face, as she held him in her arms. “Kanna-chan, as much as it’s true you would make for an incredible loli, it turns out that it’s a good thing you weren’t captured like the others.”

She blushed, though still kept her serious composure. “Don’t flirt with me now, at a time like this…” she said, caressing his face. “You’re lucky I’ve been hiding in this tunnel, waiting for more of those soldiers to turn up.”

“Is this”—Akira showed her the [Maidé Ball] he’d obtained from the Cultivator vault—”what you were looking to find?”

“That’s…” Kanna gawked at it for a moment, before abruptly straightening herself with an inquisitive leer. “But there’s only one. Did something happen to the other?”

“I spoke to CITA, just now. She was telling me the two [Maidé Balls] had fused, because of some glitch that’s affecting us.”

“She spoke to you…?”

“Yes. Just…trust me. I don’t know how, but she was able to communicate directly with me—through my thoughts.” He paused, remembering the figments of Ai and Kiki he’d also seen in the strange dimension with her: wondering if they were real, or indeed, if any of it had been real.

Kanna shifted, one corner of her mouth pulled into an exaggerated frown, a string of strained creaks and groans issuing from her artificial arms as she placed her knuckles on her hips.

“A glitch, huh?” She groaned. “We could really use Vash at a time like this.”

Akira unconsciously bristled at the mere mention of his name. Noting that this was the second time the two had parted under less than friendly turns. Yet another example, it appeared, of him failing to put forth any meaningful effort into his close relationships.

“I have a feeling we’ll run into him soon,” Akira said, with some apprehension. Then let out a small grunt of surprise as a thought crossed his mind:

“But anyway, how were you able to find me so fast?”

It was at this time none other than Chunhua emerged from behind Kanna, with a tearful look of relief, clinging cutely to their hip.

“Stupid master!” she blubbered. “Of course I wasn’t just going to leave you there!”

Akira smiled with gratitude. “It’s like CITA said: ‘you shouldn’t see your dependency on others as a weakness,’” he said, echoing the android’s parting words then closing his eyes with an amused chuckle. “Such sappy advice, to give to a cutthroat CEO such as myself.”

Chunhua glared, smiling back. “What are the carp river-streams I see leaking from your eyes, then?”

“N-nothing. Just…some web in my eyes.”

“Well then, you had best clear them quickly!” she said crossly. “As now, because I had gone so far out of my way to ensure your rescue, I order you to redress me in my royal vestments!”

“Your clothes, you mean…? Yes, dear.”

“Stupid master! You mustn’t call me dear—like I am some nagging housewife!”

“Why not? You’re really cute like this—”

“Sh-shut up! I’m still not done being angry with you!”

Kanna, who throughout all their bickering had been sitting on a nearby rock ledge, watching from the sidelines, cracked an amused grin.

“Ara ara, another strong-headed girl? Akira-kun must really be a masochist.”

…

Elsewhere, on another party member’s side of things…

Vash and Kestrel had been brought by Bridget and her Norn comrades to a Stormfleece camp, somewhere deep in the forests surrounding Helgum. To a rugged gathering of men and women; them that had once been ordinary woodsmen, traders, hunters and housewives, all compelled to take up arms as warriors for a common cause.

The air was thick with misery: the coughing of the sick and cries of the wounded, whilst the others drifted boredly between the tents made from stretched, overlapped brown and grey animal hides.

“I’ll be honest,” Bridget was saying, “it’s pretty strange for a foreigner to want to immediately mix himself in with our politics.”

At this, Vash abruptly stopped in his tracks.

Everyone else in the group followed suit, staring at him expectantly.

“I was almost executed by the Cultivators,” he said. Wrongly, might I add. To say nothing of my moral objections, against their use of the [Maidé Balls].”

Bridget nudged him in the ribs. “Aw, come on! Try to relax a little,” she said, smiling playfully, as she then beamed and twirled, waved and rocked about cheerfully. “I haven’t felt this good in ages! It’s like receiving all the benefits of a weight loss diet, minus the annoying parts!”

Vash glowered at her. “You look like a 10-year old. How is that alright…?”

She held her arms up at him.

“Go on—pick me up!”

“What?!”

There was a fierce look in her eyes.

“Pick me up and swing me around like an windmill, big bro!”

“Hell no!” he exclaimed, all sweating and in a fluster. “That’s way too weird!” He quickly glanced around at all the Norn and humans milling about the camp, tending to their normal business. “And besides, people are watching!”

“Look again, Mr. Morals,” she said to him, tugging on his sleeve with a knowing smirk. “More closely.”

Though confused, he did as he was told. And it wasn’t long until he noted the error of his initial judgment—being struck by an epiphany that there was, interspersed among the population of Norn and humans, a noticeably high population of little people.

Or rather, more specifically, a high population of little girls.

Everywhere, there were [Pocket Maids] engaged in menial, everyday things: Firing bows at the target range. Hammering a molten hunk of iron against an anvil, at the camp’s weapon forge. Sitting on logs and fur mats, huddled around the fire while boisterously chatting and sharing meals.

As Vash stood there, frozen and gawking, it wasn’t long before none other than Rudolf approached, laughing, holding the hands of ostensibly his own [Pocket Maid].

“What’s the matter, mage? You look pale as the mountain caps.”

“Rudolf-san! You’re okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” He clawed his head, looking perplexed. “Well, I suppose it does get pretty smelly around here when it rains, what with all the fur around. And, of course, I’m not just talking about the fur we use to warm our tents…”

Vash glared. “No. That’s not what I meant, you retard; I’m talking about the [Pocket Maids]—I figured you Stormfleeces would be completely opposed to their existence.”

He let his gaze drift, down to the face of the one girl accompanying Rudolf: Blonde, and rosy-cheeked. Her bright blue eyes staring blankly forward, without blinking, as she idly sucked on her thumb. Meeting Vash’s clear vibe of discomfort without even the slightest shift in her features.

Vash then looked down at Kestrel, who was standing at his side with an inexpressive face.

“What about you? Do you mind this?”

Glancing up at him with a small gasp, her drooping eyelids opening slightly wider—stirred from a daydream in which Vash was chasing her, laughing, through a field of flowers—she merely shrugged.

Bridget went on to explain, “some are former prisoners of the Cultivators, while others chose to become like this: so that they could fight freely without breaking the stipulations of the Fight Girl Concordat.” She appeared at Vash’s other side, across from Kestrel, arms folded in front of her. “It might come as a sort of shock to you, but there are also many who willingly chose to be turned into this form. And, I would wager most of us actually don’t mind being turned into little girls, as long as we can still keep our freedoms.”

“Fair enough, but it still gives me the creeps,” said Vash, with a dismayed look about him. “Some of them…err, have ‘bellies’—like they’re fit to burst at any moment.”

Bridget, giggling, suddenly jumped onto his back, draping her arms down his chest.

“That’s right! You have two options!”

“Two options for what…?”

“For how you’re going to treat me: either like a little sister, or…”

She wrapped her legs around his torso, grinning coyly. Her warm breath tickling the inside of his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up:

“You’re going to take me like a woman.”

For Vash, shuddering in her clutches, there was only one option.

Minutes later…

“Wheeeeeee!” Bridget cheered. As Vash, grasping onto her hands with an uneasy smile, repeatedly spun her around him through the air in a revolving circle.

“Like a windmill,” Kestrel murmured, then sighing dreamily as she watched from a seat on a log nearby, next to where Rudolf’s [Pocket Maid] was busily picking his thick fur clean of dirt and twigs, as well as [Sweet Roll] crumbs. ‘But why can’t it be me…?’