Teresa: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.5) Page 6

  The increased food intake was a serious issue for Boxxy, however. Not only were its Attributes much higher than most of the enlightened it came across, but its monstrous physiology demanded a constant stream of intake in order to maintain its concentrated biomass. Access to Ambrosia’s excessively nourishing nectar would drastically reduce the need to hunt and lower the risk of exposure. The shapeshifter could, theoretically, solely rely on the dryad’s teats for its dietary needs, but Boxxy wasn’t the type of glutton that would give up on its favorite treat until it had no other choice. It would therefore continue to kidnap and prey on people. Not because it had to, but because it wanted to.

  [A special action has been performed. AFF +1.]

  And there was the other practical benefit to imbibing the nectar in great quantities. Such notifications popped up every now and then, but Boxxy paid them little attention. While its recent Perk guaranteed the increase in AFF would translate into more HP, the gains were relatively miniscule. They were like adding drops of blood to a feast of human flesh – appreciated, but ultimately irrelevant. The alarming volume of heavenly golden liquid pouring down Boxxy’s gullet was far more important. It gushed out of Ambrosia’s incomprehensible breasts with a steady stream showing no sign of running dry no matter how much the monster chugged.

  Wait, just how much of this stuff is in there!?

  At some point, Boxxy noticed a discrepancy in the volume of fluid gushing out of the dryad’s bosom. By the shapeshifter’s conservative estimate, it must have consumed somewhere around fifteen liters of the stuff, yet the flow showed no signs of ending. As big as Ambrosia’s ‘girls’ were, they couldn’t possibly store that much. Neither their volume nor their plumpness decreased in the slightest, suggesting the nectar was coming from somewhere else. Not sure how to handle this, Boxxy decided to ask the dryad herself. That said, it didn’t want to stop drinking, so it opted to speak to her through the dungeon core’s long-distance communication feature.

  [Boxxy: Ambrosia?]

  “Is something the matter, milord?” she answered with a blissful smile.

  [Boxxy: I know I said I’d drink all of your nectar, but just how much of it do you have in there?]

  The dryad tilted her head and glanced around the spacious cavity inside her trunk. It was wide enough to fit an entire plaza and so tall the shapeshifter couldn’t even see the ceiling.

  “Hmm… Enough to fill half of this space, I suppose.”

  “You what?!”

  The answer was so ludicrous it caused the monster to pull away from her nipple with a shocked shout. Was this vegetable being serious?

  “That’s only the left one though. The right one is actually slightly fuller,” she proudly declared.

  “Nononono, this is impossible!” it complained. “Just where are you keeping all that stuff?! No, more importantly than that – there’s no way I can drink it all! I’d drown in it!”

  While Boxxy intended to uphold its part of the agreement and drain her dry, it obviously wasn’t going to drink itself to death.

  “I am well aware.”

  “… You are?”

  “Of course. I know very well that mine reserves are too bountiful even for milord’s formidable appetite. However, I never said thou had to drain mine bosom in a single sitting.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Now that the shapeshifter thought about it, she never gave it a deadline or anything like that. In other words-

  “As long as milord samples mine nectar at regular intervals, then I shall forgive thy transgressions,” she said through a coy smile.

  “I see. That’s fine, then,” replied Boxxy, much to Ambrosia’s delight.

  It’s not like it was against this arrangement. Nectar was both tasty and useful, so having ready access to a near-limitless supply of it was a huge boon.

  “However,” it added, “please keep in mind I am a busy box. At times I will be away from the city for weeks, maybe even months at a time.”

  “Understood, milord. In such cases, I shall make sure to prepare plenty of mine nectar for thy return.”

  “... What do you mean ‘prepare?’”

  “I am constantly making nectar, milord. ‘Tis a slow and arduous process, but worry not, for I have copious amounts of it at hand.”

  Ambrosia lifted a ludicrously proportioned boob in each of her slender hands as if to make a point. All of this rubbed Boxxy the wrong way. It didn’t appreciate the dungeon master’s omission of such critical information. Admittedly, it was the sort of underhanded move the doppelganger used on a regular basis, but the hypocritical creature hated being the receiving end of it. There was also the notion that, if it were to fully uphold the deal, then it would be stuck with Ambrosia until the end of its days. The thought of being chained down in such a way was superbly infuriating.

  Thankfully, a simple verbal promise between monsters held no contractual enforcement – soul-binding or otherwise. In reality, all Boxxy had to do was play along with the dryad’s demands until some circumstance or another caused them to part ways. Until then, she would serve as both a loyal guard dog for its shinies and an inexhaustible source of tastiness and sustenance. The only thing Boxxy had to be wary of was becoming too dependent on the dryad and her nectar. The substance called Honeydew was notoriously habit-forming, and it was made from alchemically refining hylt sap. Like with the Waters of Life, it would not be strange at all if this nectar shared some of its side-effects when considering their common origin.

  However, that was just baseless speculation. Not to mention that, statistically, non-elves were far more likely to develop a Honeydew addiction, so race was a factor. There was also the matter of the monster’s impressive Mental Fortitude (MNT) score. The Attribute’s primary effect was to fight off outside influences, so it would surely blunt any potential addictive properties, if not completely counteract them. All things considered, the shapeshifter determined the matter warranted long-term study and observation, but not immediate action.

  “I see,” Boxxy said after putting its thoughts in order. “Then, is this enough for today?”

  “I fear ‘tis never enough, milord. I must admit that not a moment passes that mine bosom doesn’t ache for thy attention. Though I wish to have thee to mine self until the end of days, I shall limit my selfishness for now.”

  The dryad smiled gently and stroked the back of the monster’s head as she said that, which drove home the point that there were certain personal feelings mixed in with this arrangement.

  Is… Is she coming onto me? Boxxy realized. Why? How? What?! Charlie-dammit! These dryads are all insane!

  This rather harsh assessment was coming from a murderous box that caused an average of one massacre per month without so much as batting an eye. However, whether that invalidated or strengthened Boxxy’s opinion on the matter was in the eye of the beholder. Which was unfortunate because there wasn’t a beholder around to give a final verdict. Such mental gymnastics aside, the shapeshifter excused itself from her lap and quickly transformed into its favorite spider-chest form. Honestly speaking, it had gotten so few opportunities to use it lately that it was starting to feel nostalgic. Therefore, it decided that the best course of action was to just sit back and relax for a while.

  After chesting around for a good hour or so, Boxxy finally got around to doing the thing it was supposed to do upon returning to its dungeon lair. It used Nexus Access to teleport to a random wall in the upper reaches of the hylt tree’s cavernous cavity and activated Terrain Sculpting. It started by carving out an entirely new room – with the dryad’s permission, of course. It then flattened the floor until it was smooth enough to slide on and created a square hole that was twenty-five meters long on each side and four meters deep. Finally, it used the dungeon core to create a dozen or so magical lamps and attached them around the floors, walls, and ceiling, brightly illuminating the area from multiple angles. The intense lighting didn’t serve a practical purpose considering Boxxy could see in the dark, but
its intentions for this room weren’t practical to begin with.

  Once the shapeshifter finished its preparations, it opened its Storage as wide as it could and began evacuating its contents into the pool-like pit. Countless golden coins flowed out like a river. The stream of currency was dotted by dozens of precious gems and jewels that glittered beautifully in the intense light. Decorative weapons and armor forged out of precious metals were buried under the avalanche of money. Hundreds of other valuable miscellanea such as ornaments, plates, cutlery, statues, trinkets, crystals, magic staves and more piled into the huge pit. Even the solid gold skeleton and the cursed goblet that created it in there somewhere.

  Boxxy’s hoard, while impressive, occupied only a fraction of the hole in the floor. Looking at the empty space filled the monster with a sense of longing and motivation. While a good start, this chamber would not satisfy the monster’s mental image of a treasury until the square pit was literally overflowing with shinies. Once it reached that point, the insatiably greedy creature would make a second room. And then a third, a fourth, a fifth, and so on and so forth. If its dreams came to fruition, it would attain a treasure hoard so vast that even elder dragons would be jealous.

  However, such aspirations were far beyond Boxxy’s current means. It hadn’t even come close to filling the first treasury even though it had deposited the entirety of its collection. Every single shiny the monster had accumulated since its birth was barely enough to fill a third of the pit. Boxxy then realized that it couldn’t keep all of its worldly possessions in here. There were certain items of critical importance – such as the Voidcaller staff and Keira’s equipment – that it needed to keep on its person at all times. It would have to fish them out of the treasure pile in order to reclaim them, but sorting through its shinies was part of the fun to begin with.

  While organizing its increasingly mounting wealth was one of the benefits of having a treasury, it was far from the only reason Boxxy had created one. The most pressing concern with its collection was that of volume. While its maxed-out Storage Skill had a whopping capacity of one thousand cubic meters, it was a finite limit that the former mimic was dangerously close to hitting. If it didn’t offload the bulk of its belongings somewhere, it would eventually find itself unable to carry its new loot. This was unacceptable. The obvious solution was storing it somewhere safe, but Boxxy was paranoid about its shinies. ‘Somewhere safe’ meant a place no one knew about, was impossible to reach, and was looked over by someone who would never be tempted to rob it. The misleadingly-named Dryad’s Domain fit all those criteria.

  The other reason Boxxy needed to create a treasury was far more basic. The monster simply wanted a safe space where it could forget about its worries and play around with its stuff without reserve in order to relieve stress and mental fatigue. Now the dryad had been pacified and had gone back to doing tree things, the shapeshifter was free to indulge in its new playpen. It hurled itself at the pile and burrowed into it while being careful not to scratch or dent too many coins, almost as if it were swimming. It was completely enveloped by glittering shiny things, able to feel their weight and touch with its whole being.

  It was bliss.

  Boxxy always dreamed of a literal golden shower, although it realized pouring molten gold onto its flesh would definitely hurt and probably kill it. Though the monster hated making compromises when it came to its personal enjoyment, it had to settle for the next best thing – a money bath. It was still extremely satisfactory, so it didn’t have any complaints. The only real downside was that Fizzy’s alluringly shiny mithril frame wasn’t around to serve as the centerpiece, but it couldn’t be helped. The golem had already been deployed to the eastern front, so it would be a short while longer before it was able to savor her radiance once more.

  After consoling itself regarding the regrettable absence of the exquisite mithril construct, Boxxy resumed rolling around in its ill-gotten gains. It juggled rubies, wore various bits of gilded armor for no reason, made forts out of loose gold coins, and relentlessly dragged tongues and fingers along anything in reach as if to mark it as its own. It even filled its mouth cavity to the brim with gold and jewels, then just sat still for a while as it savored the satisfaction of being a true treasure chest.

  Somewhere along the way, it got the notion of ‘bathing’ in a mixture of gold and nectar. However, it wasn’t sure what that potent liquid might do to its precious shinies. Tarnishing or otherwise damaging its collection would be a terrible shame. Not to mention that sweet-tasting fluids had a way of leaving unpleasantly sticky once they dried up. It needed to run a few controlled experiments to determine the long-term effects of the nectar on both itself and its shinies, but that was a matter for another time. It was currently preoccupied with frolicking around like a child surrounded by a sea of toys.

  “Master, are you not going to return to the house?”

  Snack’s sudden telepathic communication put a serious damper on Boxxy’s mood.

  “It’s too early for that,” it declared with an annoyed tone.

  “But Master, it’s already dawn.”

  “Wait, what?!”

  Boxxy quickly dug through the treasure pile until it found a silver-plated clock that it had stolen from Fizzy’s workshop way back when, and confirmed it was indeed early morning. Though it felt like barely thirty minutes had passed since it started goofing off, it had actually been at it for over four hours. The phrase ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ crossed its mind. Boxxy had heard that saying on several occasions but failed to fully comprehend it until right then. This was quite troublesome, and the shapeshifter didn’t feel like leaving in the slightest.

  “But I don’t wanna work!” it complained aloud. “Look at all the shiny things I can play with! And I can have tasty nectar whenever I want to! Why do I have to go back to pretending to like people? Well, I mean, I do like people, but as meals! Not as people! Ugh, this is such bullshit!”

  The outburst was a clear indication of why the monster felt it important to blow off steam. Though it had evolved into a doppelganger, its base nature was still in tune with its mimic origins. Going against that on a daily basis was mentally draining. Plus, the outside world was full of dangerous entities that could easily snuff it out. However, those threats were also the reason why Boxxy had to get back out there. Preparation was one of the most important aspects of survival, and the monster needed to be thorough if it hoped to either triumph over or circumvent its next deadly obstacle.

  That was why it kept developing all of its Jobs – Doppelganger, Warlock, Artificer, Ranger, and Blade Dancer. Not the Rogue Job, though. Boxxy was going to drop that as soon as possible The benefits it offered weren’t worth stretching the monster’s Levels any thinner than they already were. Aside from improving its Status, it kept acquiring connections and armaments that could be used when the need arose. Such things were extremely difficult to acquire without blending in with civilized society, hence why the Keira persona was vital to its efforts. It put far too much work into that alter ego to see it fall apart over something as trivial as a fit of laziness, so the monster reigned in its childish impulses.

  “Snack, prepare for transfer,” it mentally commanded her. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Boxxy mournfully climbed out of the golden pit. It meticulously collected those bits that spilled out of the playpen, placing them back inside before it quickly reclaimed Keira’s belongings along with several handfuls of spending money. Finally, it used Terrain Sculpting to completely seal physical access to the treasury. Its preparations settled, Boxxy returned to Rowana’s house by invoking the Transfamiliar Spell. It rapidly assumed Keira’s shape and laid down beside the unsuspecting elf girl. It waited for the sulfur-like smell of its body-swapping magic to dissipate before it woke her up, otherwise her sharp nose would pick up the suspicious odor. Thankfully, the sharp stench was the byproduct of magic, so it only took a minute for it to dissipate.
The stage set, Boxxy closed its eyes and took a few deep breaths, preparing itself to fully assume its role as Keira Morgana.

  The catgirl’s bright yellow eyes flew open and her scowl instantly became a bright smile. She pulled Rowana into a tight hug while tenderly kissing her neck and stroking her naked back.

  “Mmmh,” the elf moaned as she stirred awake. “Huh? What’s- Oh, Keira!”

  In her sleepy haze Rowana momentarily forgot her girlfriend was home, so seeing her beautiful face first thing in the morning was a pleasant surprise.

  “Hehehe, good meowrning Rowie!”

  “Good morn- Hey! Watch it! That tickles!”

  “I can’t help it! Rowie is too soft and warm! Especially these parts of you!”

  “Hahn! C’mon, sweetie! It’s far too- Nngh! -early for that sort of thing!”

  “Why? Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  “W-well, no, but-”

  “Then it’s settled!”

  The two of them fooled around a while before finally getting out of bed. Rowana busily prepared breakfast while her girlfriend incessantly clung onto her from behind. It would seem that as much as she missed the catgirl, Keira missed her ‘Rowie’ even more. Eventually, they settled around the table and started eating.

  “Good to see you’re feeling better,” the elf noted.

  “Of course, I am. The others, you know, they tried to cheer me up, but nobody can do it quite like Rowie. You know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the best.”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush.”

  Rowana spoke through a smile but she still wasn’t convinced Keira was okay. Not only was it impossible to recover from such trauma in a few days, but also the catgirl acted a bit more reserved than normal. If it was the old Keira, then the two of them would probably still be rolling around the bed and staining the sheets.

  “So, any plans for today, Rowie?” the redhead asked excitedly.

  “Ah, uhm, about that… I still need to go to work in a bit.”