Phaenora's Physical Form

Vastarael woke up to the kind of serenity he rarely experienced, his body fully refreshed for the first time since his second life began.

The ache from last night's agonizing transformation was gone, replaced with a strange sense of lightness and strength.

He stretched lazily, letting the morning light filter through the thin fabric of the tent, casting warm, golden patterns on the bed he was surprised to still find himself in. He'd expected to wake up crumpled on the floor where he had collapsed, not cocooned in the absurdly soft sheets Farrynelle had provided.

He was sure that it was her who placed him on the bed. Thankfully, he wasn't half or fully naked when he collapsed.

A small smile tugged at his lips. For once, things felt... peaceful. No immediate crisis, no unrelenting pain, just...

And then he saw her.

Lying beside him, sprawled out in a serene slumber, was the most breathtaking woman he'd ever seen.

Vastarael's golden eyes widened as the realization hit him like a thunderbolt.

"Wha—"

His voice cracked and he clamped his mouth shut, staring.

Her long sapphire blue hair spilled over the pillows, glowing faintly in the soft winter morning light. Her smooth and flawless tanned skin. And her body... gods above...

Her body was the epitome of perfection.

Curves so pronounced they seemed almost unreal, her form was barely hidden beneath the delicate sheet that clung loosely to her.

His heart skipped several beats as his gaze traveled, taking in every detail of her sleeping figure. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way her serene expression made her look almost angelic despite the sheer sensuality of her presence.

It was Phaenora.

For years, she had been a disembodied voice, an omnipresent tease, a guiding force he both relied on and begrudged. But now, she was here and she wasn't just real.

She was too stunning.

Vastarael's jaw slackened as the shock fully sank in.

'This is Phaenora?'

The one who called him 'Veneri' in that maddeningly playful tone, who always teased him mercilessly, who laughed at his every stumble? This was her?

His mind scrambled for an explanation. Why was she here? Why was she in his bed? And more importantly...

'Why is she naked?!'

He instinctively yanked the sheets higher over himself, not out of modesty but as if doing so would help him process what was happening. But then his gaze flicked back to her and for a long, breathless moment, he simply stared.

She was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his lives.

Out of all the women he knew, only two could rival her: his mother, whose ethereal beauty was unmatched, and Narisva, who was too beautiful for him to compare.

Phaenora was... different.

Her beauty was raw, overwhelming, almost too much to look at directly. And yet, there she was, completely at ease, breathing softly as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Vastarael swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Now, his Bane would be working in full force with her around.

As if on cue, Phaenora stirred, a soft murmur escaping her lips. She shifted slightly, the sheet slipping just enough to make Vastarael whip his gaze above the tent, his face burning.

'Why is she naked?' His thoughts were a tangled mess of panic, awe, and sheer disbelief. 'Why is she here? Did she even—'

Before he could spiral further, her eyes fluttered open. Those impossibly bright, mischievous golden eyes that always seemed to know too much about him. She blinked sleepily, her gaze settling on him with a lazy smile.

"Morning, Veneri. You look... handsome..."

He gaped at her, words failing him completely.

Her smile widened as she stretched languidly, utterly unbothered by the situation.

"What's with the look? Surprised to see me?"

"Surprised doesn't even begin to cover it!" He blurted, his voice pitching higher than he intended. "Why—how—what are you doing here?! And why are you—"

He gestured wildly, his golden eyes darting everywhere but at her.

"Naked?" She finished for him, her tone light and teasing as always. "Oh, relax. It's not like anything happened. This is just how I am, Vastarael. When I upgraded with you, I manifested physically so I didn't have any clothes. I figured this was the easiest way to make an entrance."

He stared at her, utterly at a loss. "This is your idea of an entrance?!"

"Well, you did want to see me eventually, didn't you? Consider this a gift for making it through... well shit."

"A gift?!" He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "This is insane..."

Phaenora propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze fond as she watched him flounder.

"You're adorable when you're flustered, you know that?"

"Stop teasing me..."

"Oh, come on, you've been through worse than this, haven't you? A little beauty sleep with me shouldn't be that overwhelming."

"Phaenora, you're... you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. How am I supposed to act normal about this?"

Her expression softened further, a flicker of something more sincere shining through her usual playfulness.

"Well, get used to it Veneri. I'm here now, for real this time. We're a team, remember? Or are you going to abandon me after this because of your Bane?"

"Of course not. I'm not that heartless... but this... this is going to take some getting used to."

She grinned, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Good. I like keeping you on your toes."

Vastarael groaned again, but despite himself, a small smile tugged at his lips. It was going to be a long day.

°°°°°°°

The path to the commander's tent was supposed to be a routine walk, but with Phaenora beside him, it felt more like a parade.

Vastarael, still adjusting to his new phase and the presence of his now-physical helper, was acutely aware of every pair of eyes glued to them as they strode through the encampment.

The soldiers—men and women alike—had always noticed him before. His striking appearance was impossible to ignore: the bronze skin, those shimmering golden eyes, and that silky, curly white hair that seemed to glow faintly even under the dim sun in the winter landscape.

But after his transformation, Vastarael's Ethereal Beauty Boon seemed to have dialed itself up to the maximum. The women soldiers could barely keep their eyes on their tasks as he passed.

And then there was her.

Phaenora was a force of nature in every sense. She walked beside him like she owned the entire encampment, her long hair cascading down her back, catching the light and shimmering with an almost magical glow.

Her radiant skin, perfectly tanned and smooth as if kissed by some divine sunlight, contrasted sharply with the gray of her oversized T-shirt, which clung lazily to her impossibly voluptuous figure.

Her bust was absurd, a pair of perfectly sculpted assets that strained against the fabric of the outfit with every subtle movement she made. It was as if it was struggling to keep her decency intact, though she didn't seem to care in the slightest.

The way the hem of her shirt barely skimmed her upper thighs only added to the show she was putting on, intentionally or not.

With every step, the smooth curve of her legs hinted at both strength and softness, drawing eyes like moths to a flame. The way she carried herself, relaxed yet utterly confident, made her even more irresistible.

The soldiers were losing it.

The men gawked openly, some of them literally stopping mid-stride as they caught sight of her. A few had to be smacked on the back of the head by their companions to keep moving.

Vastarael didn't even need enhanced hearing to pick up on the murmurs and low whistles trailing behind them.

"Who the hell is she?"

"Is she with the handsome man? Damn, lucky bastard..."

"I'd sell my soul for one night with her."

The women weren't much better. While they admired Vastarael, their curiosity toward Phaenora was mixed with a touch of envy. She was effortlessly captivating, and despite the cold weather of the Isles, she looked like she'd just stepped out of a warm paradise.

One soldier muttered under her breath;

How is she not freezing in that? Forget that—how does anyone even look like that?"

Meanwhile, Vastarael was trying his absolute hardest to ignore the circus they were unintentionally causing. He kept his eyes forward, his jaw tight, and his hands tucked into his cloak.

"Phaenora... Could you, I don't know, tone it down?"

She glanced at him with a smirk that could have melted glaciers.

"Tone what down, Veneri?"

"This." He gestured vaguely at her, careful to keep his movements small so as not to draw even more attention. "You know exactly what I mean."

Her smirk widened and she tossed her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated flair.

"Oh, come on. Are you jealous they're not staring at you anymore? You're still their precious price charming, you know."

"That's not the point!"

She chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of his discomfort.

"Relax. It's not like I'm doing anything on purpose. Blame the Boon."

"You're sharing my Boon?!" He snapped, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself.

"Of course. Did you think you were the only one who'd get an upgrade after last night? I'm your helper, remember? What's yours is mine. Besides, I wear it better, don't you think? And it's permanent too."

Vastarael groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're going to kill me before the Labors do..."

Unbothered, Phaenora walked ahead slightly, her steps deliberately slow and languid as if she was daring the soldiers to keep ogling. And they did. Vastarael swore he saw one of the younger recruits physically trip over himself while trying to steal a glance.

He sighed heavily, deciding it was a battle he couldn't win right now. The commander's tent was just ahead and all he could think about was getting through this meeting without any more drama.

But as they approached, one thing was painfully clear: Phaenora wasn't just walking beside him. She was stealing the show.