My Wives Are A Divine Hive Mind-Chapter 30: A Civilization!

The scent thickened the deeper they walked, curling through the twisted branches of Vaingall like a lure braided from smoke and soul. Kivas took in a long breath, the savory tang of cooked substance and roasted spice making her knees weaken.

"It smells like dinner. Like, real dinner. Will there be a gentle lady that offers me actual food? A lady who's kind to strangers with a warm family to bode?" Kivas voice came in quick succession. "Do people even have cities here? Is it a marketplace? Is it underground? A floating town? A hive built into a living cliff? What if it's a dome grown from fungus? Or—oh—what if they milk Voidlings for essence and sell it fried?"

Samael exhaled in amusement, eyes half-lidded as she watched her companion's verbal sprint.

"You'll see."

Kivas didn't slow. "Do they have taverns? Inns? Smithies? Guns exist, so I want to see a vending machine that trades in forgotten memories. Maybe a place that sells clothes that change when you lie. Or a cafe that brews anxiety into tea~"

Samael stepped forward, soles brushing the moss-carpeted path. "This is the first time I see you this filled with excitement."

Before Kivas could conjure another hundred images of what might lie ahead, a subtle ripple moved through her senses.

Her skin tingled, and something spiritual shifted around her, a barely audible hum running along her spine. It felt like walking through silk strung with static.

She turned her head. "What was that?"

"A barrier," Samael said. "We just passed through the field projected by a Crystal of Covenant."

Kivas glanced backward, seeing nothing but fading mist and warped tree silhouettes. At this point, her expectation of Fathomi's bizarreness had gone through the roof. "Crystal of what now?"

Samael walked without urgency. "Fathomi doesn't support normal civilization. Land isn't stable, reality bends. But some materials in this world are chaos-resistant. One of them is Maelnium. When refined properly, it becomes usable as a stabilizing tool."

"Like this Crystal of Covenant?"

Samael smirked as an answer, "It anchors land during distortion. Creates fixed zones. Without it, any civilization bigger than our personal shack would crumble the moment the world hiccups."

Kivas muttered a quiet "damn," nodding to herself. "Fathomi becomes more and more terrifying the more I think about it."

"That's the sign that your IQ stats took effect."

"I don't need high IQ stats to understand this. What's the possible highest IQ stats that one could ever have anyway?"

"Hmm, more than a million, probably."

"What the heck..."

As they moved deeper, the forest receded. The trees spaced wider. The thorns faded. The color of the air itself changed, less of that unsettling mist-glow, more grounded light breaking through a wider sky.

Then they saw it.

Wooden walls rose in the distance, thickly reinforced and spiked at the top, slightly covering the skirt of the civilization behind it.

Ballistas lined the watch posts, constructed from bone and iron, unknown materials, and a rather unique rigging. The gate in the center stood tall, barred yet slightly open, its surface carved with crest-like sigils and chained runes of binding.

In front of the gate, two figures loitered beside a metal grill mounted on warped stone. Like, a very familiar-looking design of metal grill.

Was that also acquired from a Curio too?

As for the figures, one stood taller than any human Kivas had seen so far, cloaked in leathery layers that swayed as if resisting gravity.

Instead of humanoid shape, their head was a skull resembling that of a massive goat, with wide, curling horns scorched black at the tips, covering the enigmatic blue flame within it.

Despite the inhuman head, pale muscle peeked beneath the gaps of the outfit—smooth, taut, too clean to be human.

The other appeared much younger, a teenage girl with very long, sharp fox-like ears. Her cloak hung loosely, revealing layers of pouches and stitched leathers beneath. Her hair, short and rust-colored, flicked around her ears every time she spoke.

Her arms moved quickly as she turned a set of skewers on the grill, adjusting glowing embers beneath with sharp flicks of a bone fork.

"Told you the plan would work," the girl said with a grin. "Food smell brings the vagabonds. Works every time~

The tall skull-headed figure nodded once. "Ingenius indeed. Vaingall has little to offer. A soul will chase heat and scent before thought."

Kivas barely had time to process the exchange before the wendigo-like figure vanished in a blur. A blink later, they stood directly in front of her and Samael, extending a pair of wooden sticks with a red, grilled cube skewered on it.

The smell coming off the block was rich, deep, both sweet and metallic.

"You must be hungry. Vaingall drains more than just patience. Take these as a sign of our hospitality."

Kivas blinked. "What is this?"

"Blood Cakes" The teenage girl appeared at the side, flicking one of her ears and pointing with pride. "You should be thanking me, that my immaculate Blood Cakes draw you so strongly, leading you to a civilization!"

She wasn't wrong.

"Removes fatigue," the skull-headed one added. "Restores Psyche. Both Mana and Hemo."

Samael took the offered skewer and bit into it without hesitation. She chewed, then nodded.

"Not bad."

Kivas watched her carefully.

If Samael ate it, it must be safe. She used to be a dragon, after all, a very careful and experienced one too.

She sniffed the Blood Cake again, eyes narrowing, then took a bite.

The block was warm and dense, melting slightly on her tongue. It had the texture of liver, but cleaner, marbled with sweet-salt balance and laced with an iron tang that lingered without cloying. She closed her eyes as she chewed.

"This is... surprisingly good."

"Told you." The fox-eared girl beamed. "I'm Charishe," she said, puffing out her chest. "Bastion Scavenger. Forager. Local cook. Sometimes genius, sometimes dumb and intolerable."

The horned figure inclined their head. "Voille. Keeper. Sentry. I maintain the gate."

Samael gave a faint nod. "Samael."

Kivas remembered that the name introduction holds a significant meaning in this world. Even if it didn't apply to these people, it was still a polite thing to do.

"Kivas Chariot," Kivas followed, giving a polite tilt of her head. "And thank you for these treats, really!"

Kivas wondered what blood used to make these Blood Cakes, if they were even made out of blood to begin with.

Voille's sockets shimmered faintly with inner light. "A noble. Rare for these parts."

Charishe grinned and jabbed Voille in the ribs. "How's that for an extra point? My plan attracted nobility. That's one for the records!"

Kivas leaned toward Samael and whispered, "Why does that matter?"

"Quite mattered." Samael's voice was low, or maybe she used some kind of skill to deliver her words. After all, her mouth wasn't moving. "Having a surname means that your soul is strong enough to contain it. That alone makes your existence noble, and noble can be treated a little bit differently depending on the places."

Charishe stepped between them again, one hand spinning a skewer. "Welcome to Solvish Keep," she welcomed and opened her hands with a cherished tone. "This is a community bastion that was built by the people, for the people!

"We're not a city, but we're stable enough to matter. We've got about a hundred people here. Tradespeople, nobles like you, and even a guild for all sort of associations—"

While Charishe was in her lecture, Kivas' mind was focused somewhere else.

Dozens of figures passed through, dressed in a chaotic blend of fabrics, metal plates, and rather unique shapes of equipment of all kinds.

Some had animal limbs or insectoid traits, but their shape was still humanoid. Others wore helmets, an outright gas mask—Kivas also saw what appeared to be a chainsaw being strapped to the back by one of them.

It was not mistaken, they were armed with an arsenal of Curio loot.

One of them called back toward Charishe in the middle of her speech. "Hey! Don't scare off the fresh meat with your bragging!"

Charishe lashed out, "You moron, don't interrupt me!" ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

Voille was casual as ever, however. "Going for another expedition?"

"You bet we are," said one of the group, a mature woman with a big scarf on her neck. "We're counting on you once again to keep the bastion safe."

"As always, mon amie," Voille replied

The group kept walking, weapons slung, packs shifting with every step. Some waved back. Others simply laughed and vanished into the treeline.

Kivas watched them go. "Who are they?"

Voille's voice softened further, contrasting their scary appearance. "You must've wandered long before reaching a bastion."

Kivas looked at Samael for a cue to that question.

Samael merely gazed back and smiled, as if watching to find out what her adorable pet will do in this sudden social interaction.

Kivas pouted at that response.

Seeing their quiet shenanigans, Voille decided to just answer Kivas's initial question.

"They're Void Divers."