My Overpowered Bunny Girls

The next morning, the sun broke over the capital with a harsh, uncompromising glare. Nathan brought all three summons—in their small, inconspicuous bunny forms—to Celestial Peak.

The guild hall was already bustling with chaotic morning activity: Climbers hauling heavy gear for early expeditions, logistics staff furiously reviewing dense mission assignments on glowing tablets, and the faint, ozone-scented hum of mana-powered equipment bleeding from the research wing. More than a few heads turned, conversations halting abruptly, as Nathan walked briskly through the halls with three bunnies hitching a ride. Mirko perched proudly on his right shoulder like a conqueror, Kuro resting as a dark, unmoving lump on his left, and Shiro sitting with absolute, regal dignity directly atop his head.

"Is that a new one?"

"She’s orange! With tiger stripes! I thought they were just solid colors!"

"Three of them now? Exactly how many summons does Cross have queued up in that bizarre summon mark of his?"

Nathan ignored the rising, echoing whispers and made a beeline for Valerie’s office on the top floor. The Guild Master had specifically requested to meet the new addition.

Valerie Mayfeather was waiting behind her heavily cluttered desk, her chipped TUFF GRANNY mug steaming aggressively with dark coffee, Boris snoring like a broken freight train in the corner. She took exactly one look at the three bunnies stacked on Nathan and slowly raised a gray, scarred eyebrow.

"Three of them now. You’re building quite the tactical collection, Cross." She leaned forward, studying the orange bunny on his head with sharp, assessing eyes that missed nothing. "This one’s different. I can physically feel the heat radiating off her from across the desk. She possesses a fire affinity—significantly stronger than anything I’ve seen outside of a Red Dragon High rank Fire affinity summons. Where exactly did you pick her up?"

Nathan had carefully prepared for this exact line of questioning. His party knew the unvarnished truth about his ability to summon additional Demi-Beasts under specific, catalyst-driven conditions—they had bled for the Dragon’s Heart Core alongside him. But Valerie only knew the curated, sanitized version Nathan had provided: that his unique System allowed for additional summons upon meeting incredibly specific criteria, that he had finally met those criteria, and that Shiro was the result. He wasn’t technically lying. He was simply... heavily redacting the full, world-breaking scope of the Bunny Girl System.

"Her name is Shiro. Special Class: Martial Artist. She’s... a bit different mechanically from Mirko and Kuro."

"I can clearly see that." Valerie took a long, slow sip from her mug. "Nathan, you know I don’t aggressively pry into the specifics of One’s abilities within the system. Every Climber’s UI is their own private business, and yours is clearly a statistical anomaly. Multiple humanoid summons. Special Classes. Evolutions occurring at rates that shouldn’t be possible. I’ve been climbing these Towers for fifty years, and I have never seen anything remotely like what you do." She set her mug down with a heavy thud.

"But I also know that highly unusual abilities inevitably attract highly unusual attention. The Nemesis Court has already marked you for death. The TCA has flagged you for observation. And now you’ve manifested a third summon who radiates ambient dragon energy like an open furnace. People are going to notice."

"I know." Nathan met her hard gaze without flinching. "But I can’t hide what I am. What they are. We tried hiding before, and it didn’t work. The Court found us anyway. The TCA investigated us anyway. At this point, I would much rather be strong, visible, and dangerous than weak and hidden."

Valerie studied him for a long, heavy moment, the silence thick in the office. Then, she nodded slowly. "Fair enough logic. But watch your back. The Cleansing is still coming, TCA intelligence has been tracking massive Court movements in the dark, and they are mobilizing significantly faster than we initially projected. Whatever army you’re trying to build with these summons of yours, make damn sure it’s ready."

"It will be." Nathan paused. "Shiro specifically requested to meet you. Just a heads up... she’s highly formal."

"Formal?" Valerie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Shiro smoothly hopped from Nathan’s head down to the cluttered desk, her small orange-red form landing with absolutely flawless, practiced precision between a stack of requisition forms and a coffee spill. She inclined her head with the exact same regal, unblinking dignity she had shown the night before, her golden eyes meeting the Guild Master’s with calm, unwavering respect.

"Guild Master Valerie Mayfeather. The Young Lord speaks incredibly highly of you. You have provided vital shelter, critical resources, and invaluable guidance to this party when other, lesser guilds sought only to exploit their potential. For that, you have my eternal gratitude. I am Shiro, third summon of Nathan Cross, Dragon Fist Martial Artist. I shall endeavor to relentlessly protect this guild and its members with the exact same lethal dedication I offer my Young Lord."

Valerie blinked slowly. She looked up at Nathan. "She talks like some sort of royal soldier."

"She’s... formal. I explicitly mentioned that."

"You mentioned it. You did not mention she would address me like a visiting foreign dignitary who just signed a peace treaty." Valerie turned her attention back to Shiro, her gruff expression shifting into something infinitely warmer and highly amused. "Welcome to Celestial Peak, Shiro. Please try not to set anything critical on fire. Boris gets severe anxiety around open flames."

In the corner, Boris let out a low, rumbling growl, one glacier-blue eye cracking open to lazily regard the new, heat-radiating arrival.

Shiro inclined her head deeply. "I shall strictly endeavor to control my flames within the confines of the guild hall, Guild Master. You have my absolute word. However, in active combat situations, I cannot mathematically guarantee that the surrounding environment will remain un-singed. The Young Lord’s enemies must be violently defeated, and my martial techniques are inherently flame-intensive."

Valerie stared at the tiny orange rabbit for another long moment. Then, she threw her head back and laughed, a loud, genuine, booming sound that filled the cramped office. "I like her. She is going to be an absolute handful, but I like her." She raised her TUFF GRANNY mug in a mock, solemn toast. "Now get out of my office and get to the training yard. All of you. The Cleansing is still barrelling toward us, and I need you at maximum strength. Dismissed."

The party spent the next three days locked in a cycle of relentless rest and brutal training. The Cleansing loomed darkly on the horizon, but for now, there was a brief, precious, localized window of calm.

Shiro spent hours in the guild’s reinforced practice yard with Mirko and Kuro, rigorously learning the fundamentals of coordinated party combat. Her fighting style was radically, violently different from her sisters’. Where Mirko was a highly aggressive, immovable wall of green mana and flashing steel, and Kuro was a surgical shadow that struck from absolute darkness, Shiro was a hurricane of flame and kinetic motion.

When she triggered [Dragon King’s Ascension], she tore across the yard in blinding streaks of golden fire, leaving vivid, dragon-shaped afterimages trailing in her wake that made her impossible to track. [Tyrant Dragon Fist] literally shattered the guild’s reinforced practice dummies into splinters with single, devastating punches, the spectral, roaring dragon head manifesting briefly upon impact before fading into smoke.

But above all else, she was fiercely disciplined. When Elise designed grueling combat drills—rapid formation adjustments, live-fire target prioritization, and coordinated pincer strikes with the Frost Golem—Shiro followed the parameters with the cold, mathematical precision of a born soldier. She asked insightful questions. She brutally analyzed her own performance metrics. She instantly adapted.

"Your left flank consistently drops by two inches when you chain three consecutive strikes," Elise observed coolly during one intense session, her interface glowing as she recorded the telemetry. "It’s a microscopic gap, but a perceptive Elite-Class enemy will absolutely exploit it. Mirko compensates for her over-swings with her mana barrier. You don’t have a barrier. Tighten the rotation."

"Understood." Shiro adjusted her martial stance immediately, shifting her weight flawlessly. "The Young Lord’s enemies will be perceptive. The gap must be permanently closed."

’She takes constructive criticism incredibly well,’ Kuro observed smoothly through the link from the shadows. ’Significantly better than Mirko.’

’I take constructive criticism excellently!’ Mirko protested loudly, parrying a heavy strike from the Frost Golem. ’I simply choose to aggressively ignore it when it is factually incorrect!’

’Most criticism is not factually incorrect, Mirko.’

’Most criticism is not directed at me! When it is, it is usually based on flawed parameters!’

Garrett formally offered to spar with Shiro on the second day. Shiro accepted with regal gratitude, and the two faced off in the center of the practice yard while the rest of the party gathered to watch. Volcan against the Tyrant Dragon Fist. The immovable shield against the unstoppable flame.

The spar was brutally intense—the thunderous shockwaves of Garrett’s [Impact Strike] colliding repeatedly against the kinetic fury of Shiro’s draconic punches, Red’s heavily armored wool locking horns against her blazing dragon-fire aura. It ended in a grinding draw that left both of them breathing hard, bruised, and grinning fiercely.

Nathan watched his party—his family—from the quiet edge of the practice yard. The sky above the capital was darkening with storm clouds, mirroring the tension building in the city. The Cleansing was coming. The Nemesis Court was preparing their strike.

But as he watched his three summons coordinate flawlessly with Dillon, Garrett, and Elise, Nathan felt no fear. A promise had been made to a dying dragon king in a throne room of white and gold.

Be the ember. Be the fire.

The storm was coming, but they were the inferno. And they would burn it all down together.

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