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amaliaverdezoto > Invincible Canadian Futa Goddess Cultivator > 1 1. The day before it all went to hell in a handbasket.
She swung her fist, slamming it into the trunk of the tree in front of her. Bark splintered, leaving an indention in the trunk.

"Why the fuck now, of all times?" She demanded, visibly angry.

Why the fuck did one of those stupid, fucking bitches want a 'celebratory feast' the day before the stupid tournament? Some minor princess wanted to show off her latest toy, and every noble in the city was required to attend. She had been making headway, studying how to more conservatively use both stone and ice together. And now this?

More pointless posturing. More strutting around like they had a tire iron shoved up their asses and with their fake, painted smiles. Their delicate laughs and secretly plotting about how to get their godamn face. She had never understood the concept of it, and as she had bluntly told Jein so may times, she didn't care either.

Shaking her arm a little, she continued walking, leaving the small enclosure behind her. When she had first came here, it was an open-aired space, probably intended to be a garden. Screw that, instead of throwing in every plant she could find, she had made it comfortable instead. She's left the tree standing, and instead put in a few chairs and cushions. Forget that meditating pose stuff. She just leaned back in comfortable, cushiony seat and got more done than any of the 'young masters' in the city.

Shadows washed behind her, as fast moving clouds above flitted through the air. They washed over the large tree, who's species definitely hadn't existed back in Canada, the two benches, sitting as unused as the day she had brought them, and her miniature throne, a shrine to cushiness and comfort.

She had here for nearly two years now, she recalled, running her fingers along the stone, as she strode inside. Oh, there had been a big huff and a fuss when she had arrived out of nowhere, but playing that smart had been her saving grace. She hadn't been able to speak a damn word, and by the time she learned, she was too smart to tell anyone jack shit.

So, here she was, living in a small villa at the edge of the Middle District. No visitors, no friends, just herself and Jein. She liked it that way.

She turned the corner, opening a swinging door and stepping into the house. Turning right, she followed the circular corridor wrapping around the meditation area to her own room. She passed the kitchen on the way, seeing Jein's tall, lean form inside as the old man worked the counter.

She flat out refused to eat what the people here had considered food. She had enjoyed various types of food back home, but raw was one thing she didn't touch. A little boost to Sol intake be damned.

He was hunched over, the giant textbook she had made open on the counter. On it's pages were hand drawn instructions for what simple foods she could remember. She grinned at his back as she remembered teaching him how to cook. It had been

...fun to say the least.

She ran a hand through her messy h

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