Chapter 2: Whiskers, Ale, and Rival Sparks

The morning sun hit Opeka's square like a slap, and I was already grinning, perched on a barrel outside the Black Stone Tavern. Janko's barn glowed with my "SUPREME ELF" masterpiece, and his black-painted whiskers were still clinging to his face, no matter how hard he scrubbed. Villagers pointed, chanting "Cursed Cat!" as he stomped past, his scowl darker than a Shadow Panther's hide. I tossed a moozze tail at him, cackling. "Looking sharp, Plumed Cat! Those whiskers suit you!" He lunged, but I danced away, N'Nazmuz's 30-kilogram curse dragging at my limbs. Damn thing slowed me down, but my curse-forged muscles kept me nimble enough to dodge his clumsy swing.Inside the tavern, Bera was wiping mugs, her apron hugging curves that made my adolescent brain short-circuit. "Killyaen, you're gonna get yourself killed one day," she said, tossing her hair, but her smirk told me she loved the chaos. "Only if it's by your Fire Qi, sweetheart," I shot back, leaning over the bar, eyes lingering on her neckline. She flicked a spark at me, and I ducked, laughing. Then Lila sashayed in, her honeyed skin glowing under a tight blouse that screamed trouble. "Heard you turned Janko into a cat again," she purred, brushing past me close enough to make my amulet pulse—or maybe that was just my blood. "Got any pranks for me, Supreme Elf?" Her eyes flicked to Bera, who stiffened like a Zenoite Krovar spotting prey."Oh, Lila, I've got plenty," I said, winking. "But you'd have to share the stage with Bera, and she's territorial." Bera slammed a mug down, glaring. "Keep your eyes on your ale, Killyaen, not her… assets." Lila laughed, low and teasing. "Jealous, Bera? Can't handle a little competition?" The air crackled, and I was the lucky bastard fanning the flames. "Ladies, plenty of me to go around," I said, dodging Bera's rag and Lila's playful shove. Their rivalry was better than any tavern brawl, and I was soaking up every second.Goran called me out back, his grizzled face all business. "Focus, kid," he growled, tossing me my wooden sword. The curse's 30 kilos pressed down, making every swing a slog, but I'd trained under it so long my arms were like Ironvale forges. We sparred, Wind's Rebuke flowing smoother now, my blade nicking his sleeve. "Better," he grunted, but his eyes said I was still a long way from his Peak Element Lord Fire strength. A shallow cut on my forearm stung, but as we paused, the curse's passive healing kicked in, knitting the skin closed. "You're wasted in Opeka," he said, wiping sweat. "Solspire's got answers for that amulet of yours." I shrugged, but the damn thing pulsed again, like it agreed.Back inside, I flipped through Legends of the Middle Sea, its pages whispering about "cursed ruins" and glowing relics tied to the Dragon-Gods. My amulet thrummed, nagging me about destiny, but I was more interested in the ale and the view—Bera and Lila bickering over who poured better. Mima shuffled in, ranting about Spirit Stones curing Janko's "dark magic" whiskers. "Mythical nonsense," I muttered, but her words stuck, like Vuk's tales of a "glowing blue relic" in Solspire. Opeka was too small, too qi-starved for a prankster like me. Still, ruins didn't pay for Gromble oil or get Lila's eyes sparkling.Janko stormed into the tavern, his whiskers still stark, face red as a Lava Dragon. "You're dead, Killyaen!" he bellowed, shoving a table. I grinned, pulling my latest prank: a bucket rigged above the bar, laced with Moonflower sap and ale. "Cool off, Plumed Cat!" I yelled, yanking the rope. The bucket tipped, dousing him in sticky, glowing goo. The tavern erupted, Bera cackling, Lila clapping like I'd won a duel. Janko spluttered, sap dripping from his beard, earning louder "Cursed Cat!" chants. "You'll pay for this!" he roared, slipping as he lunged. I sidestepped, the curse slowing me but not enough to get caught.Lila leaned close, her breath warm. "That was bold, even for you," she whispered, her fingers grazing my arm. Bera cut in, shoving a mug into my hands. "Don't let her flatter you, prankster. You're still a menace." I grinned, loving the tug-of-war. "Menace is my charm, ladies." Mima's posse chanted about "cursed beacons" now, tying Janko's mess to my supposed dark magic. I didn't care—my fame was growing, and the girls' rivalry was sweeter than Gromble fat.Later, I sat in the loft, my belt pouch stuffed with prank supplies—Moonflower sap, moozze tails, nothing fancy like a spatial ring. The amulet pulsed, syncing with a book passage about Azurion's wave-carved ruins. I sighed, my mind drifting to Solspire's towers, Spirit Stone markets, maybe even answers about why I couldn't sense Qi. But that was for later. Right now, I had Janko to humiliate, Bera and Lila to tease, and a village to keep in chaos. I sketched a plan for a flour trap to bury Janko in white—let's see the Cursed Cat claw out of that. As I drifted off, the amulet pulsed again, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if those ruins held more than stories. Nah. Pranks first, destiny later.