Dimensional Summoner: Infinite Growth in a Leveling Apocalypse

Liora moved the empty bowls aside and spread the greenhouse map across the workshop bench.

"Start with what you know," she said.

"Several Level 18 to 20 predators lie motionless beneath the water. They detect displacement and pressure changes. Visibility is poor. The surviving Marrowlace bed is beneath the eastern greenhouse foundation."

"How many predators?"

"Several," I said.

"That is an Archive word for we stopped counting when people died. What direction does the water move?"

"Not recorded," I admitted.

"Depth outside the crop beds?"

I checked the copied report again. "Not reliable."

"Entrances to the greenhouse?"

"The old plan shows three," I said. "Nobody has verified which still exist."

Liora leaned back. "Then you do not have a harvesting plan. You have a reason to conduct reconnaissance."

"That was my conclusion," I said.

"No, your conclusion involved putting yourself underwater with a knife."

"Eventually," I admitted.

"Adrian."

"Reconnaissance first," I agreed.

She studied the failed party’s dotted approach. "They entered once, carefully, from one point. That made every change in the water theirs. If the creatures can feel displacement, silence helps them. One clean signal is easy to follow."

"So create several," I said.

"Perhaps. Drag lines from shore. Weighted floats beneath the surface. Something that moves enough water to resemble a person without smelling or thinking like one." Liora traced three routes around the greenhouse without touching the marked bed. "But we do not know whether they attack every pressure change or distinguish prey after the first movement. We test that from dry ground."

The compound had wire, pulleys, scrap pipe, empty sealed containers, and enough old fittings to make several kinds of bad imitation swimmer. None became a plan until we knew what the lurkers did with them.

We wrote the first visit as an observation run. Circle the agricultural zone from dry ground. Verify water depth, flow, entrances, and signs of territory. Place no foot in the flood. If the terrain allowed it, suspend small weights and drag them through separate sections while watching from concealment.

"And if the first weight brings all of them to one place?" I asked.

Liora tapped the first route. "Then you have learned they can be gathered."

"If each creature remains in its own territory?"

Her claw shifted to the second. "Then you have learned the bed may have a route between them."

"If they ignore the weights?"

"Then they distinguish displacement from prey, and your problem becomes worse," Liora said.

"Very encouraging," I said.

"You summoned me for honesty."

"I did not summon you specifically," I pointed out.

Liora stared at me.

"The System did not summon you for honesty," I corrected.

"Better."

By the time we stopped, the map held questions instead of a heroic plan. That was an improvement. Heroic plans normally contained several assumptions and one funeral.

We left the cases on the bench and took turns using the shower. Liora complained about the temperature until I pointed out that she had praised it earlier.

"I praised the existence of water," she said through the washroom door. "Its personality remains objectionable."

I changed into clean clothes while she found a dry shirt among the things I had set out. It hung loose on her shoulders and stopped high on her thighs. Her travelling leathers lay folded beside the bed, and the sight of them there made the office feel different from every borrowed room we had occupied together.

Liora caught me looking.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have never once meant that word." She stepped closer. "Try again."

"You’re standing in my room."

"I noticed," Liora said.

"The gates are shut. Nothing is waiting outside for us to finish talking. There is no fight scheduled at the end of the hour."

Her teasing softened.

"I noticed that too," she said.

She caught the front of my clean shirt and drew me down into a kiss. This one began slowly. There was no need to prove either of us had survived, yet the restraint lasted only until I put my hands at her waist and pulled her closer. Her breath caught against my mouth. Her ears tipped forward, and her tail curled around my calf as the kiss deepened.

Liora made a quiet, impatient sound when I drew back far enough to breathe. She followed me, catching my lower lip between hers before letting it go.

Her hand covered mine when my fingers found the hem of the borrowed shirt.

"You are less hesitant," she murmured.

"I have had time to think," I said.

"About taking off my shirt?"

"Among other things," I said.

She laughed against my mouth, but her fingers tightened around mine. "Then stop thinking."

I lifted the shirt over her head. The first time we had slept together, she had guided nearly every uncertain movement. I had been frightened of hurting her, embarrassing myself, and discovering a biological incompatibility at the worst possible moment. This time, I knew how she liked to be touched and where the base of her tail became too sensitive for teasing.

Her breasts filled my hands. I ran my thumbs over both nipples, feeling them tighten beneath the touch, then bent and drew one into my mouth.

"Ah." The sound escaped Liora before she could turn it into a word. Her claws slid into my hair, careful at first. When I circled her nipple with my tongue and sucked more firmly, her back arched and the claws tightened. "Yes. That."

I worked the other nipple beneath my thumb. Each slow pass drew another change from her: a sharper breath, a small roll of her hips, the tightening of her tail around my thigh.

"You definitely remembered," she said.

I lifted my head. "You made it memorable."

"You really have been thinking about this."

"I said I had."

"That answer is becoming less reassuring." Her voice broke when I closed my mouth over her again. "Mm—also less important."

I kissed the inside of one breast, then the faint scar beneath her ribs, and worked my way down. There was no reason to hurry. The door was barred. The gates were shut. For once, nothing beyond them needed either of us before we finished.

Liora opened her thighs when I settled between them. She was already wet. I ran two fingers through the slickness between her folds, watching her lips part as I found her clit and circled it once.

Her hips pressed toward my hand. "Do that again."

I did, slowly. "Still alright?"

"If you stop now, I will stab you with something blunt."

"Clear enough," I said.

I kissed the inside of her thigh before putting my mouth on her. Her hips lifted at the first slow stroke of my tongue. A rough moan left her, louder than the sound before, and her heel dragged across the mattress as I held her gently in place and repeated the motion.

"Adrian." My name came out half warning and half plea.

The first time, Liora had guided my hand and said there whenever I found something she liked. I used the same knowledge now. Slow circles around her clit made the muscles in her thighs begin to tremble. When her tail pulled tight around my leg, I flattened my tongue and gave her the firmer pressure she wanted.

"Oh—yes." Her fingers threaded through my hair. "Like that. Don’t change it."

Her hips started moving in small, impatient motions against my mouth. I followed instead of pinning her still, letting her set the rhythm until her control slipped and every stroke drew a breathless sound from her.

I slid one finger inside her. She tightened around it immediately and pushed down, asking without words for more. I added a second, moving carefully until she opened for both. When I curled them forward, her claws caught against my scalp and her ears flattened into her damp hair.

"There," Liora gasped. "There—keep—ah, fuck, Adrian."

I kept my fingers working against the same place and closed my lips around her clit. Her thighs drew tight around my head. The moan rising from her broke into short, helpless sounds as the tension built. Then her body went rigid for one long second before she came, shaking beneath my hands, my name falling apart somewhere in the cry she could no longer hold back.

I eased the pressure but did not stop until the tremors weakened. When my tongue brushed her clit again, she jerked hard and pulled at my hair.

"Ah—enough. Up here."

I kissed the inside of her thigh once more before obeying.

Liora caught my shoulders as I came over her. Her breathing was still uneven, and colour had spread across her cheeks and down her throat.

"You were going to keep going," she accused.

"You seemed to be enjoying it," I said.

"I was," Liora said. "That is not a defence."

She caught my mouth and kissed me anyway, tasting herself without hesitation. The kiss turned hungry almost at once. Her hand moved between us, closed around my cock, and stroked from base to tip.

A low groan escaped me into her mouth. My hips moved into her hand before I could pretend otherwise.

Liora smiled against my lips and stroked me again, slower. "There you are."

"I was already here."

"Too composed." Her thumb swept over the head, and my answer ended in a rough breath. "That is better."

She continued until keeping still became impossible, then tightened her grip just enough to make me catch her wrist.

"Condom," Liora said, breathless but practical.

"Bench drawer," I said.

Liora glanced toward it. "You prepared thoroughly."

"It was a general safety purchase," I said.

Liora laughed, the sound warm against my throat. "Of course it was."

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