Tactical Embarrassment

As the day waned toward evening, the forest clearing took on a golden hue that travel books might describe as "enchanting," but I'd call "deceptively peaceful considering the goblin-infested hellscape we'd left behind." Golden sunlight filtered through the canopy at a lazy angle, painting dappled patterns across the ground that reminded me of the light through Naomi-san's kitchen windows on late afternoons. That familiar pang of homesickness hit me again, but I pushed it aside. No time for that now—shelter and food were the priorities.

Rurielle and I had made good progress after leaving our rest spot, but with sunset approaching, we'd decided to make camp rather than risk nighttime travel.

"This location should suffice," Rurielle announced, surveying the small clearing. "The trees provide adequate coverage, and there's a small spring for fresh water."

"Perfect," I agreed, trying to sound like someone who regularly camped in magical forests and not like a guy whose outdoor experience consisted mainly of school field trips.

While Rurielle ventured to the edge of the clearing to gather materials for what she called a "natural shelter," I took stock of my own resources. School uniform? Check. Divinely granted smartphone with inappropriate dating apps? Unfortunately check. Fifty metres of unbreakable rope? Check. Weak Prescription Lenses with their subtle HUD? Firmly in place, tinting my vision with that faint blue edge.

Actual camping equipment? Not so much.

I patted my pockets, hoping for divine intervention. "I don't suppose the cosmic trolls who sent me here thought to include a tent in their 'welcome to another world' package?"

As if responding to my sarcasm, I felt a strange tingle at the back of my mind—a connection to something that hadn't been there before. It reminded me of the moment when all those absurd skills had been dumped into my consciousness.

"Inventory?" I muttered; more question than command.

Instantly, my vision overlaid with a ghostly grid—like a video game menu floating in mid-air, visible only to me. The contact lenses enhanced the display, giving it crisp edges and a three-dimensional quality that felt unnervingly real. A mental catalogue of items appeared in my mind's eye, like the world's most minimalist user interface. And there, listed alongside "Rope (50m)" and "Personal Hygiene Kit," was "Starter Tent (2-person)."

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, reaching out to mentally "tap" the icon.

A flash of blue light erupted from thin air, accompanied by a sound like a cork popping from a bottle. The package materialised in my arms so suddenly it nearly knocked me over, but my Perfect Balance kicked in automatically, keeping me upright. When the light faded, a compact bundle wrapped in waterproof fabric sat in my arms.

Rurielle whirled around at the flash, her hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. When she saw the bundle, her violet eyes widened, and the bioluminescent patterns beneath her skin pulsed with surprise.

"What manner of summoning is that?" she demanded, approaching cautiously. Her silver hair caught the dying sunlight as she tilted her head in thought, the bioluminescent patterns beneath her blue-grey skin pulsing with what I was beginning to recognise as intense interest.

"Apparently, I have an inventory system," I explained, as baffled as she was. "Like a... pocket dimension where I can store things." I knelt down to examine the bundle, which my Basic Item Identification skill helpfully informed me was, indeed, a tent.

As I unwrapped it, a small tag fluttered to the ground. Picking it up, I read aloud: "With love - deities of Voluptaria."

I froze, then let out a groan. "You've got to be joking."

"Deities of Voluptaria?" Rurielle echoed, her tone sharp with suspicion. "What is this?"

"It's just a... brand name," I lied badly, shoving the tag into my pocket. "Like 'Celestial Camping Supplies' or something."

She wasn't buying it. "Andie, no merchant would dare use such a name. The Twelve are not marketing tools."

"The Twelve?" I repeated, genuinely curious despite my embarrassment.

"The Twelve Divine Aspects," she explained, as if this should be obvious. "The pantheon that governs all of Voluptaria. To claim their 'love' on a mere tent would be blasphemous at best."

Well, that explained the number of deities who'd been involved in my forced isekai adventure. I wondered which particularly sadistic combination of the Twelve had collectively decided that dumping every single mundane skill on me at once was a good idea. Not a single combat ability like Fireball or Monster Detection among them—just Lubricating Touch and Perfect Bubble Creation.

"Right," I said weakly. "Very blasphemous. Can't imagine who would do such a thing."

Rurielle's eyes narrowed as she studied me. "You truly aren't from here, are you?" Her tone had shifted from suspicion to something closer to wonder. "No Takejin exile would feign such ignorance of the Divine Aspects. And that summoning magic..." She gestured to the tent. "That's no Mirvari technique."

"Mirvari?" I asked, the unfamiliar term catching my attention. "I don't know what that is either. Which just proves my point."

I sighed, relieved she was finally believing me. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I'm not a Takejin, or a Mirvari, or any kind of native to Voluptaria. I'm from another world entirely."

"A world without the Twelve," she mused, looking thoughtful. "How strange that must be."

"Well, we have our own deities," I said, unfolding the tent. "They just don't generally send people unwilling gift packages with embarrassing skills."

To my surprise, the tent practically assembled itself. As soon as I laid out the groundsheet, flexible poles snapped into place, fabric unfurled, and within moments, a cosy two-person shelter stood before us. It was a simple dome design in forest green, unassuming except for a tiny embroidered symbol on the door flap—twelve interlocked circles forming a larger one.

"May I?" Rurielle asked, gesturing to the symbol.

"Be my guest," I said, stepping aside. My Temperature Assessment ability kicked in automatically, noting the dropping temperature as sunset approached. The night would be cool but not cold.

She traced the symbol with her finger, her expression reverent. "The Mark of Harmonious Balance. All twelve aspects in proper alignment." She looked up at me, those violet eyes suddenly intense. "Andie, do you understand what this means?"

"That my tent has a fancy logo?"

"That you bear the mark of divine intervention." Her voice had dropped to a near-whisper. "Not just any divine intervention—balanced intervention from all Twelve. Such a thing hasn't occurred in recorded history."

Great. Not only was I stuck in another world with useless skills, but apparently, I was some kind of religious anomaly too. Just what I needed to blend in.

"Look," I said, desperate to change the subject, "the tent's big enough for two. You don't need to bother with a leaf shelter."

Rurielle raised an elegant eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "First the courting garments, now sharing a roof? Even for Luxuriveth, that's moving rather quickly."

My face heated instantly, and my Temperature Play ability activated in response, creating an uncomfortable hot-and-cold sensation across my skin. "That's not what I—I didn't mean—it's just practical!" I stammered.

She laughed, the sound like silver bells in the twilight. "Peace, Andie. I'm merely teasing you. Your reactions are... refreshing. Most males I encounter either miss my humour entirely or respond with excessive eagerness."

"Glad I could provide entertainment," I muttered, still embarrassed but also slightly pleased that she found me amusing rather than offensive.

While I finished setting up camp, Rurielle gathered firewood and arranged it in a perfect circle of stones. With a whispered word and a gesture, shadows gathered at her fingertips, then ignited into a dark flame that caught the wood immediately. The fire burned with an unusual purple-tinged light that gave off heat without much smoke.

"Shadow fire," she explained, noting my fascination. "More subtle than regular flame, and less likely to attract unwanted attention."

"Handy," I said, wondering if any of my own skills could be remotely as useful. Maybe I could create a Perfect Bubble to... catch fish? Store water? The possibilities were as limited as they were ridiculous.

With the camp established, we settled by the fire. I sat cross-legged on a flat rock, while Rurielle perched gracefully on a fallen log, her posture somehow making the rough wood seem like a throne. The oversized school blazer I'd lent her earlier looked comically out of place with her exotic beauty, yet she wore it with such dignity that it somehow seemed fashionable. Or maybe it was just that anything would look fashionable on her. Even my school blazer, which somehow managed to look both too large and too small on her frame simultaneously. I tried to keep my eyes on her face during our conversation—partly out of respect, and partly because I was terrified my Basic Item Identification ability would kick in at exactly the wrong moment and make things even more awkward.

"So," she began, "tell me of your world, Andie Ryuu from elsewhere."

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. "It's called Earth. No magic—at least, none that most people can access. Lots of technology instead. Cities much larger than anything you probably have here. More humans than other races."

"No magic at all?" Her bioluminescent patterns dimmed slightly, as if the very thought saddened her. "How do you defend against monsters?"

"We don't have monsters," I explained. "At least, not the kind you're thinking of. Our dangers are more... human-made. Wars, environmental issues, economic problems."

"Sounds peaceful yet complicated," she observed. "What did you do there, before coming here?"

"I was a student," I said, a pang of homesickness hitting me unexpectedly. My Familiar Place Daydreaming activated, giving me a vivid flash of the Paradise Heights Academy classroom—the smell of chalk dust, the sound of quiet whispers, the feeling of afternoon sunlight through the tall windows. "Just an ordinary guy trying to figure out what to do with my life."

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"And now you're here, bearing divine gifts and saving Luxuriveth from grek'tal with dancing sticks," she said with a gentle smile. "Fate has strange designs."

"What about you?" I asked, eager to shift the focus. "Have you always been an Ebonveil Temptress for this Ebonveil Enclave?"

Her expression grew more guarded. "No. I was once in training to become an Umbraveil Provocateur—a mage who draws back the veil between worlds, channelling raw Umbra energies. But the path requires certain... innate talents in the deeper aspects of Liminality that proved beyond my capabilities." She flexed her fingers, and small shadows danced between them, forming brief patterns before dissolving. "My affinity lies more with practical Shadow applications than the raw Void-touching power needed to manipulate the boundaries between realms. So, I joined the Enclave as an Ebonveil Temptress instead."

"That sounds impressive to me," I said honestly. "I can't imagine navigating dangerous territories alone, gathering intelligence, all while staying hidden."

"It suits me," she acknowledged. "Though there are times when even Ebonveil Temptresses need rescue, as you witnessed today." Her mouth quirked in a small smile. "Though I'm still not convinced your rescue methods would work twice."

"They barely worked once," I admitted with a laugh. "I was making it up as I went along."

"Sometimes improvisation is the best strategy." She gazed into the purple flames. "Especially when facing the unexpected."

"You saved my life, however ridiculously. That creates a bond, even among the Luxuriveth," she added with unexpected sincerity.

We fell into companionable silence for a while; each lost in our own thoughts as night fully descended around us. The forest came alive with new sounds—chirping insects, distant hoots, the rustle of nocturnal creatures. Above the canopy gap, stars emerged, constellations I didn't recognise wheeling in patterns strange to my earth-trained eyes.

Eventually, Rurielle broke the silence. "About tomorrow's journey—"

"Right," I said, snapping back to practicality. "You mentioned Crossroads is two days northwest?"

"Yes." She gestured in what I assumed was a north-westerly direction. "We'll follow the river upstream until we reach a limestone ridge. We won't climb it—we'll stay in the valley and continue until we see three tall standing stones. Then we'll turn west, and within half a day's walk, we'll reach Crossroads."

I tried to commit the route to memory, wishing my Never Gets Lost ability worked outdoors and not just inside buildings. "Sounds straightforward enough. River, avoid ridge, standing stones, west to Crossroads."

"Exactly," she confirmed. "And be cautious after the standing stones. That area is frequented by traders, but also by those who prey on them."

"Bandits?" I asked.

"Among other threats," she said cryptically. "Nothing you shouldn't be able to handle with your... unique abilities."

Before I could ask for clarification, a sound like rustling wings caught our attention. Something dark swooped down from the night sky, circling our camp once before landing on a branch just beyond the fire's light. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the form of a large raven—or what appeared to be a raven, except its feathers seemed to be made of condensed shadow rather than physical matter.

"Nightwing," Rurielle murmured, rising to her feet with sudden tension. "A messenger."

The bird—if it could be called that—fixed us with eyes like tiny violet stars, then opened its beak. Instead of a caw, what emerged was a whispered voice, feminine and urgent:

"Rurielle Umbrael. Return immediately. Incendiveth activity detected near Ebonvelvet Enclave. Suspicion of artifact recovery operation. Your tracking skills required. Respond with directive acknowledgment."

Rurielle's entire demeanour changed in an instant. Her casual posture straightened into something more formal, and the bioluminescent patterns beneath her skin pulsed with increased intensity.

"Acknowledged," she replied to the bird. "Returning by shadow-path. Expect arrival by dawn."

The shadow-raven dipped its head once, then dissolved into wisps of darkness that were quickly carried away by the night breeze.

My Heightened Dust Perception activated, showing me the faint traces of magical residue where the messenger had been—a swirling pattern of shadowy particles that reminded me of the bioluminescent markings on Rurielle's skin. Through my contact lenses, the magical residue appeared as delicate blue-tinged trails, with tiny data points highlighting particularly dense concentrations of shadow energy.

"Umbrael?" I asked, seizing the moment before she could leave. "Is that your family name? And what's the Ebonvelvet Enclave? I'm guessing from that message you're heading back there instead of to Crossroads?"

"Yes, Umbrael is my lineage name," she replied, already gathering her few belongings. "And Ebonvelvet is one of our six major settlements—our centre for magical research and shadow arts." She paused; her expression conflicted. "I'm sorry, Andie. My duty to the enclave takes priority."

"Of course," I said, ignoring the unexpected disappointment I felt. "I understand. You've already helped more than I could have asked for."

"The Incendiveth are dangerous," she explained, gathering her few belongings. "If they're seeking artifacts in our territory, it could mean renewed conflict. We've had uneasy peace with them since the Second Schism, but they've never abandoned their expansionist ambitions."

"The fire elves you mentioned earlier?" I asked, recalling our previous conversation.

"Yes." Her expression hardened. "Their reckless magic caused the cataclysm that nearly destroyed our people. They claim it was for freedom, but they never faced the consequences of their actions."

She moved toward the edge of the clearing, then hesitated. "I shouldn't leave you like this. You're still new to Voluptaria, and despite your... unusual capabilities, you're vulnerable."

"I'll be fine," I assured her, more confidently than I felt. My Lone Wolf ability hummed in the back of my mind, as if eager to prove itself. "I've got the directions, a tent, and enough weird skills to hopefully stay out of trouble."

She studied me for a moment, then reached into her tunic and withdrew a sheathed dagger. Unlike the crude weapons the goblins had carried, this was clearly a work of art—the sheath made of dark leather embossed with silver symbols, the handle wrapped in what appeared to be shadow-silk with a small violet crystal set in the pommel.

"Take this," she said, offering it to me. "A Luxuriveth umbranium dagger. It carries a minor umbra-protection enchantment—nothing powerful, but enough to potentially ward off minor threats."

I accepted the dagger with surprise. "Rurielle, I can't take this—"

"You can and will," she said firmly. "Consider it repayment for my life, if nothing else. And..." a hint of mischief returned to her eyes, "insurance that we'll meet again. I'll want it back eventually."

I nodded, genuinely touched by the gesture. "Thank you."

Curiously, I drew the blade from its sheath—a motion that felt strangely natural, as if I'd done it many times before. The dagger was about eight inches long, slightly curved, the metal a deep blackish-purple that seemed to drink in the firelight rather than reflect it. Strange runes were etched along the blade's surface, occasionally glimmering with a violet luminescence similar to Rurielle's eyes.

As I held it, my Basic Item Identification skill activated—only to return the puzzlingly incomplete assessment: "Umbranium dagger." My contact lenses displayed this information in a small text box that hovered beside the blade.

"That's weird," I muttered. "My... ability is identifying the material but not the enchantment."

Rurielle looked intrigued. "That's unusual. The umbra-protection enchantment is subtle but definitely present. Umbranium naturally resonates with shadow energy, making it perfect for our enchantments."

I tried to focus on the blade, willing my Heightened Dust Perception to detect any magical residue. I could see the faintest shimmer around the blade, confirming what Rurielle said, but somehow the magic seemed to slide away from me, refusing to connect. It was as if my Stain Resistance ability was kicking in, treating the enchantment as an unwanted mark that needed to be repelled.

"I think my abilities might be... interfering with each other," I said with a sigh, sheathing the blade. Another wonderful side effect of the divine trolling I'd been subjected to.

"Perhaps it will resolve with time," Rurielle suggested. "In any case, the blade itself is of excellent quality, enchantment or no."

I attached the sheathed dagger to my belt, using one of the basic knots I somehow knew thanks to my divine rope skills. "I'll take good care of it until we meet again."

She nodded, stepping back into the deeper shadows at the edge of the clearing. "That umbranium dagger is no trinket, Andie. Among my people, giving another our shadow-crafted weapons implies trust... or debt. Consider it a temporary loan until we meet again."

"Wait," I said, looking down at the dagger then back at her with concern. "Is this your only weapon? You're heading into danger—don't you need this more than I do?"

A small smile touched her lips as she reached behind her back and unsheathed a longer blade, I hadn't noticed before—a slender sword with the same umbranium sheen. "I never travel with just one blade, Andie. The dagger is my secondary weapon."

"Will you be safe?" I asked, still worried. "Those Incendiveth sound dangerous."

The luminescent patterns beneath her skin pulsed with confidence. "I've survived alone in these forests since before your grandparents were born. It was only today that I required rescue, and that was due to my own carelessness."

She spread her arms slightly, and the shadows around her seemed to deepen and swirl. "The shadow-paths call to me. Follow the directions I gave you, and with luck, we may cross paths again—at which point you can return my dagger."

The darkness began to envelop her, but her violet eyes remained visible as she added with a mischievous glint, "Try not to get eaten by a flower, Takejin from another world. I'd hate for my blade to end up in a plant's digestive system."

Her final words drifted through the thickening shadows: "Most importantly... I haven't even worn your courting garments yet. And they're quite safe in my shadow pocket."

Before I could stammer out a mortified response, she melted into the darkness completely. Her form blurred and then disappeared entirely, with her smile lingering last before vanishing—leaving nothing but a faint shimmer of magical dust that my enhanced perception caught drifting in the night air. My contact lenses traced her departure path with a fading blue outline before displaying a simple "Unknown Transit Method" notification.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where she'd vanished, feeling strangely bereft. "For someone who calls herself a shadow," I murmured to the empty clearing, "she sure left a mark."

With a sigh, I turned back to my camp. Alone again, just like that. I should have been used to it by now, but somehow this parting stung more than I expected. I barely knew Rurielle, yet in the span of a day, she'd managed to become the closest thing to a friend I had in this world.

My Lone Wolf ability seemed to pulse in response to my solitude, and I felt a subtle increase in my awareness of the surrounding forest. Sounds became slightly clearer, scents more distinct, and I could almost feel the movements of small creatures in the underbrush around the clearing.

I walked to the small spring Rurielle had pointed out and filled the water container that had mysteriously appeared in my inventory alongside the tent. The water was crystal clear and ice-cold, tasting fresher than anything I'd ever had on Earth. My Temperature Assessment ability confirmed it was a chilly 5.5 degrees Celsius—perfect for maintaining freshness but almost tooth-achingly cold.

Back at the fire, I used my Perfect Balance to arrange several rocks into a stable platform for cooking, though I had nothing to cook yet. Maybe tomorrow I could try fishing in the river Rurielle had mentioned. If all else failed, I could always check if the divine trolls had included any food in my mysterious inventory.

Out of curiosity, I pulled out my smartphone and opened the "Voluptaria Bazaar" app. My balance still displayed an astronomical 999,998.9995 DC from when I'd purchased that "modest" dress set earlier. I navigated to the "Food & Provisions" section, finding an extensive array of options from simple rations to exotic delicacies. To my disbelief, the listings included wagyu beef, premium craft beers, potato crisps in dozens of flavours, and even Japanese konbini staples like yakitori skewers and onigiri—all available for a fraction of my divine credits. Tempting as it was, I decided to save those luxuries for another day and tucked my smartphone away.

As night fully claimed the forest, I secured the perimeter of my camp, using my 50 metres of divine rope to create a simple alarm system around the clearing. It wouldn't stop anything determined, but at least I'd have warning if something large approached. My basic knowledge of knots proved surprisingly useful, allowing me to create tripwires and tension-based triggers with relative ease.

With security established, I retreated to the tent—which was warmer inside than I expected, as if the fabric itself regulated temperature. I arranged my meagre belongings, using my Clothing Organisation skill to fold my spare uniform items into perfect, space-efficient rectangles.

Before sleep, I created a few perfect bubbles with my Bubble Creation skill and let them float around the interior of the tent. They gave off a soft, pearlescent glow that was strangely comforting.

Just before closing the tent flap, I took one last look at the night sky, at the unfamiliar stars of Voluptaria. Tomorrow I would begin my journey to Crossroads, hopefully to find Naomi-san and the others. For now, though, I was alone in a strange world, armed with nothing but a dagger I couldn't fully use and skills no sane person would have selected.

"Thanks a lot," I muttered to the stars, hoping the Twelve were listening. "Next time, maybe just send a bus ticket instead of kidnapping me across dimensions."

As I sealed the tent and settled onto the surprisingly comfortable bedroll that had come with it, I failed to notice a subtle disturbance in the shadows at the far edge of the clearing—a ripple in the darkness too deliberate to be natural, too controlled to be the wind. Had I been watching, I might have seen a figure briefly solidify before blending back into the night—neither Luxuriveth nor goblin, but something else entirely.

The watcher observed the tent for several long moments, then turned away, a smile playing across lips that had tasted the beginning and end of worlds.

"Sleep well, little Champion," whispered a voice too perfect to be mortal. "Your journey has only just begun."