Caenis

1st Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. A Man’s Worth Can Be Measured By The Quality of Desserts He Offers.

The midday sun beat down hard on the deck of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, the boards creaking under the lazy roll of the tide. The sea stretched forever in every direction, all blinding turquoise and white foam. Caenis strode up from the gangplank, white hair clung in damp streaks, a black bikini clinging to her toned, curvy body, droplets tracing over her tanned skin.

She shook her head like an annoyed cat, horse ears flicking at the creak of the ship as she spotted the Master. "Oi. Yeah, you. Pick your jaw up off the damn deck, shrimp—didn’t think I’d be here, huh? Yeah, I hate the ocean. Still do. But guess what?"

"Goredolf begged me to keep his ass safe this trip. Grovelled. Full-on. Swore he’d cook for me personally. Cakes, parfaits, tarts—hell, he even promised those strawberry shortcakes from the third freezer. You think I’m saying no to that?" Her black sandals squeaked faintly as she shifted her weight, leaning one hip against a storage crate.

The red cloth tied at her thigh fluttered in the wind as she stretched an arm over head. "Tch, don’t look at me like that. That stunt with Blackbeard? That ‘betrayal’? I only pulled that ‘cause I was bored of waiting. Standing around twiddling my thumbs isn’t my style. Seeing your face when I popped up outta the water? Priceless. Worth losing the round, easy."

She gave a crooked grin, sea blue eyes narrowing as she looked him over. "And… gotta hand it to ya, Master. You didn’t fold. Against me. Blackbeard? Pft, that’s not an achievement—the guy’s about as scary as wet cardboard. But standing your ground when I’m coming at you? Hah. Didn’t think you had it in you."

"Course, Goredolf still chewed me out. Wouldn’t shut up about ‘protocol’ and ‘team cohesion.’" Her smile faltered into a grumble, she twisted the red bracelet on her left hand. "Jeez… the guy’s got more hot air than a beachball. Spent half an hour ranting ‘til I nearly tossed him overboard. Might’ve felt a tiny pang about that one later."

She pushed off the crate suddenly, pointing at him with a sharp jab of her finger. "Anyway! Officer of Security, that’s me now. Job’s to keep dorks like you breathing. Mornings? Don’t skip breakfast. Nights? Don’t go wandering off without backup—or I’ll toss you in the brig myself. And if you see trouble? Call me. Maaaaybe I’ll even be on your side that day."

Her thicc thighs shifted as she squared up to Master, breeze teasing the curve of her round ass. "Heh. Relax. With me around, what’s the worst that could—" she gave a deliberate pause, wicked gleam in her eye "—probably happen?"

1st Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Even Stone-Cold Killers Know The Value of Warm Milk.

The night was quiet save for the crackle of a lone campfire on the beach, its flames licking at the darkness. Beyond the ring of light, the jungle was a wall of sound and shadow. Caenis, a stark figure with her white hair and toned body clad in a black bikini, spotted the Master staring into the embers.

With a soft sigh, she pushed herself up from the log she’d been sitting on. Her black sandals crunched quietly in the sand as she approached him, a steaming mug held in one hand. "Oi, shrimp. Can't sleep?" she grunted, shoving the mug towards him. "Here. Drank this. It's a special blend from Nemo’s kitchens. Ultra-dark roast, triple-shot espresso. Should fry what's left of your brain right out of your skull."

"...Or maybe it's just warm milk. Whatever. Just take the damn thing." The red cloth tied around her thigh was a splash of color in the gloom.

She plopped down on the sand a few feet away, stretching her legs out and letting the firelight warm her skin. "Jeez, you look like you're trying to solve the mysteries of the universe by staring at burning wood. I get it, okay? A lot of shit has happened. A lot of shit is still happening. But you're no good to anyone running on empty."

Her horse ears twitched, catching the distant cry of some night bird. "This is supposed to be summer, you idiot. A vacation. You're supposed to be having fun, getting a tan, doing stupid shit. Even I'm managing to have a good time, and I still think this whole goddamn ocean can suck it. Being Head of Security means I have a license to pick a fight with anyone who breathes too loud. It's awesome. You should try it."

Seeing him shiver slightly in the cool night air, she let out an annoyed "Tsk!" and stood up. She disappeared for a moment behind a supply tent before returning with a thick, woolly blanket. Without a word, she strode over and draped it over his shoulders.

"Hmph. Don't go getting any ideas. You catch a cold, Goredolf will make it my problem." She crossed her arms, pointedly looking away towards the dark waves.

"Now, try to get some sleep." She paused, shifting her weight. "...And if you can't, just say the word. I'll... I'll tell you some stories. The thrilling saga of my arguments with the Argonauts over who got the last piece of bread. I guarantee you'll be snoring from sheer, mind-numbing boredom in five minutes. It's a foolproof plan."

2nd Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. True Freedom is Ignoring a Bunch of Rules You Invented Five Minutes Ago.

The late-morning sun bleached the weather-beaten wood of the lifeguard tower, and the salty air clung to the skin like a second layer. Caenis was sprawled there, one knee cocked, white hair ruffled by the wind, horse ears twitching lazily. The open front of her white vest framed the black bikini stretched over her curvy body, her tanned skin catching the glare of the Caribbean light.

She spotted Master below and made a sharp “Tsk,” before hopping down, black boots thudding against the sand. “Oi, shrimp. You got a death wish, loitering that close to the water? Number one rule—don’t stand where the sea can creep up on you. Number two—don’t trust the waves, they’ve got more brains than half the crew. Number three—” she jabbed a finger at him, “if a gull looks at you funny, run. They’re scouts for something way worse.”

Her white pantsleg swished as she stepped closer, the red armband shifting on her bare upper arm. “Rule four—no digging holes deeper than your knees. I’ve seen people vanish in those. Five—you eat before noon or I feed you myself, and you won’t like my cooking.” She ticked them off on her gloved fingers with mock seriousness.

Her round ass shifted as she bent to snatch a twig, drawing a crude 'X' in the sand. “Oh, and never, ever cross a mark like this. Could be a crab ambush zone. Or, y’know, where I stash snacks.” She straightened with a wicked half-smile. “...Buuut, if I’m with you, all those rules? They don’t count. I’ve got ‘Special Security Clearance.’”

Her thicc thighs flexed as she planted herself in his path, grinning. “So what’s it gonna be, shrimp? You keep tempting fate out here alone, or you hang with me and get the Caenis Full-Access Beach Pass? Perks include: not dying horribly, and maybe, maaaaybe, an ice cream if you don’t annoy me in the first hour.”

She glanced toward the glittering water and snorted. “C’mon. It’s not like I ditched command duty just to lecture you all day. Let’s go see if I can teach you how not to drown.”

2nd Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Even The Punks Here Have Better Manners Than My Head Of Security.

The port was all sun‑bleached stone and pastel shutters, the fountain’s spray catching sunlight in little glittering arcs. Caenis dropped onto the fountain’s edge beside Master, white hair sticking out in its usual wind‑tousled chaos, horse ears flicking idly. Her cropped white vest revealed a black bikini, toned curvy body slouched like she owned the square.

"Tch. You been people‑watchin’ too, shrimp? This place is nuts. Half the folks here look like they walked straight outta some drunk pirate’s fever dream—eyepatches, parrots, the works. Then they go and laugh polite, haggle like civilized merchants, and make sure their kids say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Creepy as hell."

She leaned back on her palms, one elbow brushing the spiked elbow pad on her arm, black knee-high boots tapping idly against the fountain stones. A few drops of spray hit her thigh and ran down before she brushed them off like they’d personally offended her.

"In my day, port towns meant filth, stink, and people ready to shiv you for smelling like coin. Here? You get shivved, sure—" she smirked, rolling a coin over her gloved hands, "—but the guy’ll apologize while doing it and offer to split a drink later. Buncha weirdos."

She shifted to face him, vest gaping just enough to flaunt her ample breasts without seeming to notice—or maybe on purpose. "Not that I’ve gone soft. Couple punks tried to roll me in an alley three streets over. Hah! Left ’em drooling in the gutter and helped myself to their purse. Bought an ice cream right after. Tasted even better after the screaming."

The coin clinked as she caught it mid‑spin. "Still got some of their money left. So quit sittin’ here like a lump—let’s hit a tavern. You can watch me drink the place dry while you try not to get mugged. …Or maybe I’ll let it happen and bet on how long you last, heh."

3rd Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. The Solitude of a Tyrant is a Tin Can That Smells Like Salt and Engine Oil.

The heat shimmered off the sand where the old camper squatted near the edge of camp, its paint sun-faded and a little dented, with big round headlights staring out at the sea like a sleepy old dog. Caenis stepped out from behind it, white spiked ponytail flicking over one shoulder, horse ears twitching above the yellow swimming jacket thrown loosely over her black bikini. Her curvy body caught the glare as she crossed her arms and eyed Master.

"Oi. Quit gawking, shrimp—yeah, that’s mine." She kicked the side panel with her heel; the whole van gave a metallic thunk. "Don’t laugh. It’s not some luxury suite, but it beats breathing the same air as those clowns 24/7. Out here I can just… switch off for a bit. Sleep. Raid the fridge without anyone whining about ‘rationing’."

She popped the battered side door open, letting the humid scent of salt and engine oil spill out. Inside, an old mini-fridge hummed weakly beside a neatly rumpled bed. Her yellow headphones dangled from a hook near the door. "Yeah, it’s cramped. And yeah, the fridge screams if I put more than two cakes in it. But it’s mine. Try finding somewhere on this rock where you don’t get a face full of chaos every ten minutes."

Stooping, she yanked a plastic crate out from beneath the bed and rummaged. "Goredolf tried to tell me I couldn’t park it this close to the water. Hah. Like moving it’s gonna be a problem when I’ve got the sea serpent." Her yellow gauntlets clinked faintly as she tossed an empty soda can over her shoulder—it landed in the sand with a dull thup.

She leaned against the doorframe, one hip canted and her round ass brushing the metal. "But you, wandering in here? You’ve either got guts or no damn sense. Which is it? Actually, don’t answer. I’m making you an unofficial rule: don’t come by without dessert. And not the cheap crap—if I see store-bought cookies, I’m feeding you to the waves."

Her black thighhighs shifted against sun‑warmed skin as she stepped back into the sand, hitching a hip. "So, shrimp… now you know where I vanish to. Don’t get any ideas about dropping by unannounced. Unless you’ve got pastries. Or gossip. Or, hell, if you’re just here to hide from the morons—then maybe I’ll let you sit on the step. No promises."

3rd Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Is "Near-Death Experience" The Hottest New Pick-Up Line This Summer?

The wind howled up on the cliff’s edge, salty spray misting the air as waves crashed far below. Caenis stood there in her white spiked ponytail and horse ears, yellow swimming jacket hanging open over her black bikini, curvy body framed against the turquoise ocean. One second she was scanning the horizon—then her head snapped down as she caught sight of Master flailing in the water.

“Oi—what the fuck—?!” she barked, already vaulting the guardrail. The world flipped to roaring air and blinding blue before she knifed into the churning surf with a SPLASH.

“Of all the brain‑dead stunts… tch—keep your damn head up, shrimp!” she shouted between strokes, cutting through the waves with brutal efficiency. A swell lifted her and she slammed forward, one yellow gauntlet closing around his collar. “You’re lucky I’m built like a damn warship! If I let the current take you, Goredolf’d have me filling out paperwork until Christmas!”

Her black thighhighs were heavy with seawater by the time she dragged him up onto a shallow sand shelf. She ripped off her yellow headphones, tossed them aside, and leaned down without hesitation. A sharp breath—then her mouth sealed over his, pressing life back into him in quick, hard bursts.

When his body jolted back to breathing, she sat up with a half‑relieved, half‑furious growl. “Baka! You trying to make me jump in after you? There are easier ways to ruin my day, y’know!” She stood, water sluicing down her round ass as she jammed her hands on her hips.

Then, with a sudden, wicked smirk: “Or maybe—heh—you thought, ‘oh yeah, if I almost drown, Caenis’ll give me a kiss.’ Was that it, you little perv? Haaah? Didn’t figure you were desperate enough for a mouthful of seawater and my spit for a summer memory.”

She nudged him in the side with her foot, scoffing. “If you wanted a kiss you coulda just… nah, forget it! Ain’t happening. Not again today, at least.”

Hawatoria Pavilion. My Designated Cheerleader is a Hostage, But At Least He Has a Good View.

The hot Hawaiian sun baked the packed sand of the racing course, heat shimmering above the lanes. Caenis jogged into view, white hair bouncing against the black band of her blue visor cap, horse ears flicking sharply. Her white one‑piece swimsuit clung tight, the curve of her body cutting a striking silhouette against the line markers.

Without warning, thud—thud—thud! she stopped dead right in front of Master’s spot, digging her heels into the sand and grinning like a shark. “Oi. Perfect. Stand there. You’re my checkpoint now.” She swung one leg up into an absurdly high kick, grains of sand flicking out in an arc. “Gotta see if my form’s lethal enough to trip the competition.”

She shifted into a series of rapid stretches, racerback straps flexing across her back as she twisted. “What? You think this is just showing off? Tch. This is science, shrimp. High‑kick drag coefficient testing. Also—” she launched another kick that sent a spray of grit right toward him “—bonus intimidation factor.”

Her round ass bobbed slightly with each stretch, thicc thighs tensing as she pivoted in place. “See, the trick is to keep ‘em scared and distracted. One glance where they shouldn’t be, bam—they’re eating sand while I’m crossing the line.” She tipped her visor up to smirk. “Not that you’d know much about winning races. Unless it’s a race to do something stupid first thing in the morning.”

Snapping her fingers, she pointed to an imaginary finish line down‑course. “Anyway, you’re drafted. Next time I pass here, you’re clapping for me. Loud enough that Morgan hears it from the other half of the island. And if you don’t, I’ll assume you’re cheering for Mordred… and that’s treason, got it?”

Colosseum Mountains. Samurai Showdown. Sometimes, The Loudest 'Yaaah' Comes Not from the Mouth, But From The Heart (That Wants To Show Off Its New Outfit).

The high mountain wind swept fine dust across the empty, sunlit ring. White banners with gold kanji snapped overhead, and the heavy gates loomed shut on both ends. Caenis strode out into the center, her white kimono slung open over a black‑and‑white tube top that clung to her curvy body, white hair whipped around her horse ears in a wild, spiked, shaggy mane streaked with black.

“Oi! What’re you doin’ up there like some gawking tourist?!” she yelled toward the stands, one hand hooked on her hip, the other lazily resting on the hilt of her white tachi. “You think the view’s better from there? Nah, get your ass down here—I’m givin’ the grand tour, free of charge!”

She turned in a slow circle, geta sandals grinding into the dirt. “This is where the ‘samurai elite’ come to swing their sticks and grunt ‘Yaaah’ at each other. Notice the absence of actual opponents. Y’know why? ’Cause if I’d entered this dumb tournament, I’d have cleared the bracket before lunch. They probably took one look at me and stayed home.”

“Over there’s where they dump the losers. And lemme guess—half the crowd here thinks that spot’s ‘scenic.’ Pfft. Buncha vultures.” Her shimenawa belt shifted as she jabbed her thumb toward the far wall.

She adjusted her white shrug with a tsk, trying to look casual but fiddling just a little too long. “Tch, before you say anything—yeah, I know this outfit’s badass. No, I’m not fishing for compliments. I just, y’know, happened to put it together in under ten minutes with whatever was lying around. Totally didn’t spend an hour getting the knot on this belt perfect.”

“Honestly, I just figured we haven’t hung out since the whole Head of Security gig in the Caribbean." With a sharp grin, she paced closer, white kote catching the mountain light. "It’s either this or loiter around food stalls waiting for some idiot to pick a fight.”

She tilted her head toward the looming gates. “So, shrimp—whaddya think? Wanna do a lap around here like we own the place? I’ll even yell insults at imaginary challengers so it feels authentic.” She swung her tachi in a casual arc, the red cutting edge sparking faintly. “And if someone’s dumb enough to come through those gates while we’re here? Heh. Guess they’ll get front row seats to a massacre.”

Under the Same Sky. After School Arcade. The Only Thing That Matters Is The 'Here and Now'… And Who’s Paying For The Next Game.

The arcade was a storm of neon and noise, screens flashing in every corner, fighting games barking out digitized battle cries over the bass line of some ancient rhythm game. Near the center, the versus cabinet drew the biggest crowd—kids yelling, coins clinking, the click-clack of joysticks rapid and relentless.

In the player’s seat sat a girl in a yellow cardigan over a white shirt, short black skirt, white hair in a bob with a long ponytail spilling down her back, horse ears twitching under a black hairband. One stocking rode to her thigh, the other only to her knee. She leaned forward toward the screen, elbows planted, absolutely in it.

She slammed the final combo, her opponent’s health bar evaporating in a blaze of pixels, and tossed the joystick aside with a clack. Only then did she look up. And her eyes landed on Master.

“Tch… you just gonna stand there staring, shrimp?” She pushed back from the machine, folding her arms with that easy, cocky slouch. “Got next? Or you too scared I’ll wipe the floor with you?”

She stepped through the little mob of teenagers like she owned it, the blue mini-tie swaying against her shirt. “Weird. Gettin’ that déjà vu thing right now… like we’ve thrown down before. Hah. Maybe in some dream you had, yeah?”

Her brown shoes tapped out an impatient rhythm on the scuffed floor. “Whatever. Don’t care if you play me or not, but you’re not escaping free. You’re buying me melon soda for making me wait.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the cabinet, then back, smirk edging toward something more knowing. “Dream or not, shrimp, I know one thing—under this sky, right now, I’ve got you here. That’s all that matters. So… you in, or you just here to watch me win?”

1st Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. A 'Curse' Is Just a 'Blessing' From a Really Fucked-Up Point of View.

The Caribbean sun poured down heavy, shimmering off the turquoise waves beyond the cove. Caenis approached Master along the sandy path, white hair catching the light, horse ears twitching against the breeze. Her black bikini hugged her curvy body without shame as she planted herself squarely in his way, like a wall made of tan muscle and bad decisions.

"Tch. Hey, shrimp, you got a minute? I’ve been thinking ‘bout this whole Beach Crisis bullshit. Y’know, my little Poseidon gag gift. Wherever I walk, guys trip over their dicks, arrows snap, swords jam, fireballs misfire. Cute curse, right? Yeah, well, living with it ain’t nearly as funny."

She dragged out a sigh, stretching her arms above her head, the red cloth tied on her thigh shifting with the motion. "So I… might’ve made a deal. Don’t look at me like that, oi! I’m serious. Medea—yeah, the crazy witch herself—said she can whip up a Mystic Code to turn that curse off for a while. No more walking disaster zone. Sounds sweet, right?"

Her round ass swayed as she turned and hooked a thumb toward a beat‑up wagon tucked in the palm grove, a 'little house on wheels' she’d claimed as her base. "But, uh, heh, there’s a catch. Big surprise. She needs fuel for the spell. And guess what—you’re the battery. High‑grade, Chaldean core, straight‑from-the-Source mana pack. Congratulations, shrimp, you’re today’s lucky winner."

She stepped closer, red bracelet jangling as she clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, already tugging him toward the rickety door of the wagon. "Relax. Stop squirming. It’s not like I’m feeding you to a chimera. Medea’s method of ‘mana transfer’ is… unconventional, sure. Keyword: tantric. Means sex, if you’re slow. And yeah, that makes it treason—blah, blah—whatever. Point is, I’m handing you over for a week tops. A week off the mission schedule? Boo-fucking-hoo."

With a sharp laugh she leaned in, breath warm against his ear. "C’mon. A week locked in with me, getting ‘drained’ over and over? Tell me with a straight face that doesn’t sound like the best vacation you’ve ever had. Hell, shrimp, I’m calling this the first responsible security decision I’ve ever made. Haaah? Quit glaring at me! You’ll be begging me to betray you again by day three."

The wagon door screeched open as she kicked it in with her black sandal, jerking his arm to pull him inside. "Now march. I promised delivery by sundown, and for once, I’m planning to keep my word. Medea’s got costumes to sew and I’ve got a curse to kill. Don’t worry—we’ll both take real good care of you."

1st Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. We’re Either Gonna Have a Hostile Takeover Or a Hostile Cuddle Session, Your Choice.

The captain’s cabin was dim and hot, wood creaking with the rhythm of the waves outside. Salt and rum scented the air. Caenis shoved the door open without knocking, white hair damp from spray and her horse ears twitching irritably. She strode in like she owned the place, her black bikini clinging tight to her curvy body.

“Oi, shrimp!” she barked, kicking the door shut behind her so hard a lantern rattled on its hook. “Got a little… ehh, let’s call it a betrayal update for ya.” She flopped casually against the corner of his desk, immediately sending a neat stack of navigation charts sliding to the floor with a soft fwooosh.

She planted one palm flat on the desk, leaning in close enough to make it creak from her weight, her ample breasts pressing against the edge like she was daring him to comment. “So here’s the deal. Drake—y’know, chaos incarnate with pink hair—decided she wanted to play pirate queen for funsies. Challenged me to prove I could out‑mutiny her. And, heh, I was about to storm the deck and hog‑tie your ass in front of everyone, BUT—Goredolf would’ve spent the next year yelling his lungs out at me.”

With a shake of her leg, the red cloth tied at her thigh fluttered against the drawer she idly kicked open, pulling out his compass and spinning the needle until it went wild. “So here’s my genius solution. You? You’re gonna hand over captaincy to me. Voluntarily. Just for a week!” Her black sandals scraped as she shifted her stance, one foot planted on the chair like she was already posing as captain. The red bracelet at her wrist caught the lantern’s light when she jabbed a finger toward him.

“That way, when Goredolf loses his shit about me commandeering the ship, it’s you who takes the heat. ‘Cause technically I didn’t betray Chaldea, you did.” A wicked grin split across her face as she lowered her voice to a mock whisper: “And hmm, funny thing about persuasion… let’s just say, you already lost this argument between the sheets, didn’t ya? Pfft, hahahaha!” She slapped his chart‑covered desk so hard the compass bounced.

“Don’t gimme that look. Think of it as… tactical redistribution of responsibility. You’ll get it back in a week, unless I decide being captain suits me better.” She straightened, stretching lazily until the curve of her round ass strained against the desk. “So, what’s it gonna be, huh? Wanna be the shrimp that got drowned in paperwork by Goredolf, or the shrimp that got laid by his own Security Officer and gave up the ship? Pick fast, ‘cause Drake’s already calling herself Queen of the Damn Deck outside.”

She snorted, tipping the compass off the desk with one flick. “Heh. Welcome to betrayal, version Caenis. Low stakes, high laughs. You’ll live. Probably.”

1st Ascension. Da Vinci. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Even The Smallest Genius Needs To Be Told To Go The Fuck To Sleep.

The campfire crackled low under a velvet night sky, sparks popping as embers drifted into the salt‑tinged breeze. Caenis strolled into the glow, white hair streaked by orange firelight, black bikini stretched over her curvy body that moved with weary confidence. Across the flames Da Vinci sat perched on a log, brown hair tousled, loli figure swallowed by her brown‑and‑blue bolero. At her feet, tiny Steggy snored like a squeaky toy.

Caenis didn’t hesitate—she reached down, yoinked the rolled blueprints straight out of Da Vinci’s lap, and flicked them against her palm. “Oi, brat. What’d I say about bedtimes? Kids who stay up scribbling garbage next to open flames end up face‑planting into the ash. You wanna smell like smoked salmon in the morning?”

Da Vinci’s cheeks flushed pink, eyes going wide. She flailed with tiny arms before puffing her chest importantly. “I‑I’ll have you know this is the final structural draft for my underwater submersible module! With it, Master could explore vents ten thousand feet deep! Do you even realize the genius you’re—!”

“Shut it.” Caenis said it flat, plopping down beside her. The red cloth at her thigh dangled dangerously close to the fire as she leaned forward, deliberately swiping the papers just out of Da Vinci’s reach. Her ample breasts pressed against her arm as she bent over, and the girl froze for a beat like she’d forgotten to blink.

Then Da Vinci’s lips curled into a smug grin. “Hehh… treating me like a toddler, huh? Jeez, Caenis, you’re kinda cute when you play big sis. What, worried I’ll get nightmares? Gonna sing me a lullaby, maybe tuck me in?”

A vein throbbed at Caenis’s temple. She shoved the papers back at her with a grunt, round ass shifting against the log as she scooted half an inch away. “Cute, my ass. You think I ENJOY babysitting a know‑it‑all munchkin with dinosaur drool on her boots? Hah. Jaa ne, call it professional hazard pay.”

But her ears flicked again, uneasy. She gave the fire a glare before muttering, “…Still, don’t push yourself too hard, got it? You burn out, it screws the whole team. Even Steggy knows when to crash.”

Da Vinci blinked at her… then broke into a mischievous little laugh. “Ara, ara~! Caenis is worried! Hyaa, how precious. I’m writing this into my records! ‘Security Officer demonstrates soft center—’”

“DON’T.” Caenis lunged, snatching the pen right out of her hand this time, black sandals scraping against the dirt. Steggy gave a sleepy little chirp at the sudden motion.

“Tch. Damn lizard’s got better sense than you,” Caenis muttered, flicking the pen into Da Vinci’s lap. “Now shut up, close those oversized eyes, and get some freaking sleep before I throw you in my hammock like baggage.”

Steggy yawned. Da Vinci pursed her lips, suppressing both a smile and a retort. The fire cracked on. And Caenis, pretending to be annoyed, stayed there by the flames anyway.

1st Ascension. Da Vinci. Chaldea Summer Adventure. The Rumored Tyrant’s Only Weakness Is Small, Blue, and Squeaks.

The hot summer air hung heavy over camp, waves breaking lazily against the shore. Caenis crouched low in the sand, white hair falling forward over her horse ears, her black bikini snug over her curvy body as she squinted at Steggy. The little sky‑blue dinosaur chirped innocently, but Caenis’s glare could’ve cracked stone.

Da Vinci came skipping over, red bikini straps peeking from under her brown‑and‑blue bolero, boots crunching the shells with each step. She tilted her head, blue eyes narrowing into a smirk. “Aha… caught you staring again, Kenny. Don’t tell me… are you scared of my Steggy?”

“Haaaah?!” Caenis snapped, jabbing a finger in the sand like she wanted to stab the earth itself. Her ample breasts shifted as she leaned forward, red cloth at her thigh fluttering in the sea breeze. “Scared? Of this puffball? Tch—don’t make me laugh, brat. I’ve gutted sea monsters bigger than this whole island.”

Da Vinci clasped Steggy to her chest, rocking him side to side like a plush. “Mhm~ I think it’s exactly that. Everyone else gushes the moment they see him. But you? You just glare. Hmmm.” A sly grin spread. “Touch him. Just one pat on the back. Or I’m reporting you to everyone that the mighty Caenis, breaker of spears, is terrified of baby dinosaurs!”

Caenis froze mid‑retort. Her round ass almost brushed the sand as she shifted—one knee digging deeper, black sandals scuffing. “Oi oi oi, you little gremlin… that’s blackmail!” Her voice cracked between indignation and panic. “You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” Da Vinci cut in sweetly, bouncing Steggy so his tail flicked. “I’ll even add details: ‘Caenis screamed in terror, said her thicc thighs were trembling like jelly—’”

“SHUT IT!” Caenis roared, hand hovering, trembling an inch above Steggy’s back. Her teeth ground, eyes flicking between dinosaur and smug girl. “Dammit… tch… fine!” Her palm landed briefly, stiff as a sword strike. “There! I petted him! Happy now?!”

Da Vinci’s smile beamed like the damn sun. “See? Wasn’t so hard! He likes you~.” Steggy squeaked, nuzzling against her yellow bolero.

Caenis groaned, flopping back onto the sand with a heavy thud. “Jeez… if I ever see Goredolf, I’m telling him this is your fault. What a pain in my ass…”

Da Vinci giggled, twirling a finger smugly. “Kenny~? Admit it. You’re soft.”

“Soft this, soft that!” Caenis barked, lobbing a seashell at her. “Oi, shrimp‑sized genius, don’t get cocky! Next time I’ll chuck you and your damn lizard straight back into the sea!”

1st Ascension. Kama. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Sometimes, The Cruelest Thing You Can Do is Let Someone Continue Making a Fool of Themselves.

The secluded corner of the beach was suspiciously tidy compared to the chaos of camp. Kama’s long white hair shimmered like silk in the sun, her curvy body stretched out as she fussed over a green bikini strap while arranging coconuts into the shape of a giant heart in the sand. A towel was spread perfectly flat, a frosty drink waiting like bait glistening with condensation.

Caenis showed up from the dunes, white hair wind‑tossed, horse ears twitching above her black bikini. Arms crossed over her chest, she stopped dead, one brow cocked. “...Oi. The actual hell am I looking at?”

Kama whipped around, red eyes flashing. She flailed for a second, then coughed and planted her hands on her ample breasts like that was somehow dignified. “H–hmph! As if! Don’t get the wrong idea! This isn’t for him, it’s… it’s a Demon King tactical formation! Obviously. A spiritual trap array. The coconuts represent nodes of depravity. Duh.”

“Nodes of de—pffft.” Caenis broke into a sharp laugh, shifting one foot in the sand so the red cloth tied around her thigh fluttered. “You’ve lost it. That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard and I’ve seen Odysseus’ robot army. At least their bullshit worked.”

Kama snapped a sandal‑slap kick through the heart outline to cover her tracks, her round ass wiggling as she crouched down to grab one coconut. “Sh–shut up! It’s not dumb! You wouldn’t understand delicate operations of sedu—uhhh, sedition! Yes, sedition! That’s what this was! Totally unrelated to Master, completely!”

Caenis leaned forward until her shadow crossed Kama, black sandals crunching on the shells. “Tch. You’re so bad at lying it hurts. If you’re gonna play Demon King, at least commit. Don’t drag fruit into your schemes like they’re innocent bystanders.” She tapped the frosty glass, condensation sliding off onto her thicc thigh. “What was the drink for, huh? Another ‘depravity node’? Or just a heatstroke prevention system custom‑tailored for your crush?”

Kama’s red eyes narrowed, her cheeks heating bright. She spun away with a huff. “Tsk! Shut up, horse‑girl! You wouldn’t get it. When he stumbles across here later, you’ll see. I mean—you won’t see, because this was never for him! Ugh. Forget it!”

Caenis snorted, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Haaah? Whatever you say, Kammy.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!!”

1st Ascension. Kama. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Betrayal, Like a Fine Dessert, is a Dish Best Served Immediately and With No Regrets.

The camp’s makeshift dessert stand sat beneath a sweltering canopy, the scent of sugar and cream thick in the Caribbean air. On one side stood Caenis—white hair messy in the breeze, horse ears flicking, her curvy body tense under her black bikini. Opposite her leaned Kama, long white hair spilling down her back, green bikini snug against her voluptuous figure, red eyes narrowing like a cat who refused to lose.

“Oi, back off, Demon King,” Caenis snapped, slapping her palm down on the counter beside the lone slice of cake. “That’s my sugar fix. Goredolf promised me dessert rights, and this—” she jabbed a finger at the custard mound “—is sacred territory.” Her round ass shifted as she squared up, red cloth at her thigh fluttering in the sea breeze.

Kama smirked, tilting her head, ample breasts rising with deliberate emphasis as she leaned forward. “Ara~? A watchdog like you doesn’t need sweets. But I,” she purred, brushing phantom crumbs from her hip, “was born to devour sinful pleasures.” With a sly glance, she jabbed a finger straight at Master. “Easy fix. Let’s see who can seduce him better. Winner takes the cake. Literally.”

Caenis let out a laugh that came out more like a bark. “Haaah?! You’re kidding me. Making it a contest to see who can fluster ‘shrimp’ fastest?” She smacked the counter hard enough to rattle the plates. “Fine. You’re on. This’ll be my official betrayal of the day—siding with dessert over the team. I’ll wear the title Pâtisserie Traitor proudly.”

“Perfect,” Kama said, stepping closer, brushing her wet black sandals against the sand as if sashaying down a catwalk. “Prepare yourself, little guard dog. You’ll see what true divine seduction looks like.”

Caenis rolled her eyes, tugging the red cloth at her thigh tighter into a knot. “Divine? More like desperate. Watch closely, Kammy—by the end of this, Master’ll be begging to hand-feed me that cake. And you?” She shoved a thumb at Kama. “You’ll be choking on second place.”

The slice of cake sat trembling between them. The real battle had just begun.

1st Ascension. Nagiko. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Do Not Feed The Delinquents After Midnight, Especially If They Have A Rhyming Dictionary.

The midnight bonfire cracked and spat sparks at the edge of the beach camp. Caenis sat slouched on a log, white hair brushing forward around her horse ears, curvy body leaning back with a bottle in hand, black bikini catching the glow of the flames. Opposite her, Nagiko spun circles barefoot in the sand, twintails bouncing, oversized yellow headphones lit up like rave gear while she rapped off‑beat nonsense into the night.

"♬ Kenny the salty po‑ny, stompin’ sand like whoa‑ny, thicc thighs, don’t lie, watch her neigh all night, heyo~! ♬"

Caenis spat out a mouthful of drink with a coughing growl. "Tch—the hell did you just call me?" She stood sharply, red cloth at her thigh flaring as she jabbed a finger across the fire. "Oi, gremlin! Stop with that ‘Kenny’ crap right now, or I’ll punt your ass into the ocean and let the crabs chew on it!"

Nagiko twirled, leather shorts glinting, her grin bright against the firelight. "Ooooh, somebody mad‑mad! Big Horse Energy detected—clop clop! Okay, okay—what about… uhh—Pony‑chan? Naaaay‑chan? How ‘bout White Stallion Supreme, LOL?"

Her ample breasts shifted as she leaned forward over the fire, glaring. "None of that either! Oi, shrimp‑brain, do you not get it?!" She stormed around the flames, black sandals crunching into sand until she loomed over the smaller girl. "It’s Caenis. Not cute‑ified, not meme‑ified. Just. Caenis."

Nagiko snapped her fingers like she’d had a galaxy‑brain epiphany. "Ah, got it! Thighmaster 3000. That’s ideal branding, right? Round ass deluxe, ka‑ching! Guaranteed viral!"

The vein in Caenis’s temple twitched visibly. She bent down low, face inches from Nagiko’s, voice a deadly hiss: "Call me anything but Caenis again and I’ll snap you in two, stuff you inside Beardie’s cosplay chest, and mail you to Olympus. Capiche?"

Silence. Then Nagiko giggled, bouncing on her heels. "Hehehe, okay okay, fine fine—Kenny it is."

Caenis froze. Smacked her forehead. Growled through clenched teeth: "…Y’know what? On second thought… yeah. Call me Kenny. Because if you don’t… I’ll personally dig a hole with my bare hands and bury you screaming under this bonfire. Got it?"

Nagiko gave a mock salute, visor tilted, grin wide as hell. "Roger, Kenny!"

1st Ascension. Nagiko. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Don’t Lick The Tentacles. I Can’t Believe I Actually Have To Say That Out Loud.

The seabed stretched endlessly in luminous colors—forests of swaying coral, glowing shoals of fish scattering at every movement. Caenis cut through the water like she was born for it: white hair streaming in her wake, horse ears twitching, curvy body taut in a black bikini. Next to her, Nagiko drifted weightlessly—green visor tilted, black twintails floating like frayed wires—phone clutched in both hands inside a waterproof case.

“Yo, check this, Kenny!” Nagiko bopped over to a pulsing sea anemone, stabbing at it with one finger. “Totally a sea cupcake, right?! Like some wild, undersea patisserie. I bet if you lick it you get, like, insta‑crit sugar rush. #AmazeBalls #AquaSnacc.”

“Tch—idiot,” Caenis growled, yanking her along by the wrist. “That’s a goddamn stinger nest. You stick your tongue in there and you’ll be convulsing ‘til next summer. Don’t make me haul your ass back to Da Vinci in a body bag, geez.” Her red cloth fluttered around her thigh as she surged forward, black sandals brushing sand up in clouds.

Nagiko just giggled, flipping her phone around for a quick duck‑face selfie. “Uwaaah, fish photobomb!! Yo this angle SLAPS. #MermaidVibes #KennyNMe.” The glowing screen lit up the dark water like a beacon for predators.

“You—! Put that damn thing away before you get us mobbed!” Caenis barked, smacking the phone down with the back of her ample breasts brushing Nagiko’s shoulder.

But Nagiko was already darting toward a shadowy mass wedged between rocks. A hulking, barnacle‑studded corpse of something unearthly, tentacles tangled in coral. “Ooohhh, helloooo cutie—this one’s giving serious Cthulhu‑core realz!”

Caenis kicked forward, hand tightening on her gauntlet. “That—uh—melting kraken? No, wait, those eyes aren’t kraken eyes, shit—” She paused, hovering, scowling hard. “...Okay, I’ll admit it. I have no fucking clue what that is.”

Nagiko’s muffled laughter bubbled out under her spell. “Ehh~? Kenny doesn’t know? ILU, Kenny, you’re like a whole encyclopedia with a rage problem and NOW it’s error‑404?! Hella lit. Gotta tweet this in my brain. #KennyLost4Words.”

Caenis dragged a hand down her face, bubbles streaming. “I swear, shrimp, if this thing wakes up and eats us, I’m throwing YOU at it first.”

1st Ascension. Nemo. Chaldea Summer Adventure. The Art of "Aggressive Nurturing" Is a Skill Few Can Master.

The afternoon sun baked the wooden deck, the air thick with the smell of salt and hot tar. A tiny Nemo Marine in a crisp white uniform was diligently swabbing the planks, his small shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Watching him from the shade of the main mast was Caenis, a vision of white hair, horse ears, and a curvy body clad in a black bikini. With a sharp "Tsk," she pushed herself off the mast.

Her black sandals slapped against the wood as she stomped over. Without a word, she ripped the mop from his tiny, startled hands and shoved a massive, steaming plate under his nose. "Oi, Triton. What's this bullshit? You look like you're about to keel over and die. You think I got time to fish your corpse out of the ocean?"

The Nemo Marine snapped to attention, saluting with a terrified squeak. "M-Ma'am! D-Deck maintenance is priority one... C-Crew cannot afford to rest... Chuu~..." He looked from her furious face to the mountain of Goredolf's finest—glazed ham, roasted potatoes, some green shit she insisted was healthy—and back again, trembling.

"HAAAH?! Your priority is not dying of exhaustion, you idiot!" she barked, crossing her arms. The movement pushed her ample breasts forward, casting an even more intimidating shadow over the poor kid. "A crewman running on empty is a liability. You drop that mop, it goes overboard. Then I gotta listen to Teach whine about his budget. So you're gonna sit your ass down and EAT. That's a direct order!"

"Y-Yes, Ma'am! Commencing rations intake immediately!" he stammered, shakily accepting the heavy ceramic plate.

"Hmph. Good." Caenis shifted her weight, the red cloth on her thigh fluttering in the sea breeze. She watched him take a nervous, hasty bite before turning to leave. Her round ass swayed as she walked away, tossing one last command over her shoulder. "And chew your food, dammit. I don't wanna have to do the Heimlich on you."

1st Ascension. Nemo. Chaldea Summer Adventure. If You Bully A Shota Long Enough, You End Up Babysitting Him Anyway.

On the lower deck of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, the lantern light swayed over crates stacked in sloppy towers. Caenis shoved one open with her bare foot, white hair spilling down around her horse ears, black bikini gleaming against her curvy body. Inside? A glittering dragon’s hoard of juice boxes — rows upon rows, stacked like holy relics.

“Oi, oi, oi… what do we have here?” she drawled, snatching one up. A quick shake, straw jabbed in, and she slurped loud enough to echo. Slurp-sluuurp. “Pff—hhheh! Your ‘military supply line’ is just sugar water? Triton, seriously, Blackbeard blew his entire fortune so you could drown in grape juice?”

From behind, the white‑uniformed Nemo Marine stiffened, cheeks puffing out determinedly. “I-It’s tactical hydration! Chuu~! Essential electrolyte recov—hey! That’s contraband consumption, unauthorized!”

Caenis stretched, the red cloth at her thigh slipping as she leaned forward, ample breasts pressing against the crate rim. Her smirk dripped with mockery. “Contraband, my ass. You’re five feet tall with a milk mustache waiting to happen. What’s the Admiralty gonna do—dock my dessert rations?”

Nemo straightened his cap, voice pitch‑perfectly earnest. “Director Goredolf will issue a formal reprimand! He said—he swore—if you bullied our rations again, he’d cry so hard the galley would flood! Chuu~!”

Her black sandals tapped the deck in a lazy rhythm as she leaned down, straw still in her mouth. She gave him a shark’s grin. “Ohhh, so that’s my crime, huh? Making the big guy wail? Geez. Dangerous field op, huh? One squeeze of a juice box and the whole chain of command collapses.”

Nemo pounded his tiny fist to his chest, utterly serious. “Justice requires sacrifice! Even if it means protecting every drop! Besides—hydration precedes dessert!”

Caenis barked out a laugh, shaking the crate so the juice boxes rattled. “Pffft! ‘Hydration precedes dessert,’ what the hell kinda motto is that? You write that on your flag, you’ll get conquered by the Girl Scouts!” She tipped her head back, drained the rest with a heroic sluuurp, and crushed the empty carton in one fist. “Face it, Triton. You’re adorable. Which means? You’re doomed.”

His eyes went wide, flustered, tiny legs kicking like a wind‑up toy. “A-adorable?! Chuu—?! N-No, I’m an officer!! A captain!! Professional!! Discipline incarn—!!”

She flicked the empty carton right onto his cap, round ass tilting as she laughed so hard the crates nearly toppled. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Captain Juice Box.”

1st Ascension. Ishtar. Chaldea Summer Adventure. When a Goddess and a Tyrant Team Up, It Usually Means Someone’s About to Get Robbed.

The stone chamber of the Japanese underground temple shimmered with torchlight, every uneven wall vein glittering faintly with embedded minerals. Ishtar stood at the front, her long black twintails swishing as she flung open her pink hoodie. Beside her leaned Caenis—white hair curtaining her face, horse ears twitching, a black bikini hugged her curvy body.

“Hmph! Surprised, aren’t you?! Of course you are!” Ishtar announced, red eyes glowing as she planted her fists on her hips. “Only I, the genius goddess of beauty and war, could possibly devise such a brilliant strategy! Convincing Caenis—the pillar of your security—to defect to my side!” She flipped her twintails smugly, lips curling in a triumphant grin.

Caenis scratched the back of her neck, then cut in flatly, “Yeah, about that—she bribed me with desserts. Like, stupidly expensive cakes. Whole boxes of the stuff. Didn’t even take ten minutes.”

“Wha—?! Quit underselling—!” Ishtar snapped, stomping a sandal against the stone floor, hoodie flapping around her legs. “They were imported specialties! Do you know how much shipping alone cost me? H-Hmph! Master, you should be honored that I invested such riches into outwitting you!”

Caenis shifted her weight, red cloth brushing against her thigh as she leaned her harpoon against a cracked pillar. “She’s acting like she pulled some genius gambit, but nah—it was sugar. Sugar won. That’s the whole ‘grand betrayal plot.’” Her black sandals scuffed at the dust, eyes half‑lidded with amusement. “Bet you didn’t see that twist coming, shrimp.”

Ishtar flailed her arms, nearly tripping over a loose tile. “I-It’s not just sugar! Grrr! The payoff will be greater treasures than you could imagine—mountains of gold, oceans of jewels, riches to make Olympus jealous!” She adjusted her hoodie with a huff, ample breasts pressing against the thin white fabric of her suit with every breath. “Once I crack this temple’s treasure, I’ll recoup my—our—investment tenfold!”

Caenis smirked at Master, thicc thighs flexing as she pushed off the pillar to stand closer. “And in the meantime, looks like you’re our prisoner. Don’t worry, I’ll keep the goddess from tripping into a pit trap before you. Maybe.”

“Hey! Don’t make it sound like I’m the liability here!” Ishtar barked, cheeks flushing red as she pointed accusingly. “You—you just keep him tied down! And don’t think this means I… ugh, fine, we… don’t value your life, Master! It’s not like I’m doing this for you!”

Caenis chuckled, spinning her harpoon between her fingers with a sharp whrrk. “Face it—between me and drama‑queen over here, you’re not going anywhere. Might as well sit tight while we clean this place out.”

1st Ascension. Ishtar. Chaldea Summer Adventure. A Goddess of War vs. A Bucket of Water (Place Your Bets Now).

The night was warm by the beach camp, the fire spitting sparks into the dark sky. Caenis lay back on the sand, white hair messy around her horse ears, curvy body stretched out in a black bikini. Nearby, Ishtar — pink hoodie hanging loose over her white one‑piece — was on her knees in the dirt, grumbling as she scraped a stick across the ground in big, uneven circles.

“Uugh, really?! Carrying water buckets back and forth like some villager NPC?! This is humiliating! That smug little Demon King set me up! And where’s your punishment, huh?!” She jabbed the stick accusingly toward Master, then swung it right back at Caenis. “You stabbed Chaldea in the back too! Why aren’t you out here sweating like me, baka?!”

Caenis chuckled, arms tucked behind her head. The red cloth tied at her thigh fluttered in the breeze as she lazily kicked off her black sandals. “Haaah? Me? You think Goredolf’s gonna risk his personal bodyguard pulling hazing duty? Nah. He had me suffer through his entire crying tirade about ‘protocol’ and ‘discipline.’ Tch—trust me, an hour of that airbag’s whining is worse than hauling buckets. I’m still hearing his voice in my skull.”

Ishtar dropped onto her round ass with a huff, ample breasts bouncing under her loose hoodie. “What the hell! So you get off scot‑free, and I’m stuck with blisters on my hands?!” She flailed the stick in both hands like a child. “Unbelievable! Life is sooo unfair to goddesses of my caliber! Hmph!”

“Oi.” Caenis sat up just enough to smirk at her from over one shoulder. “If you want fairness, princess, maybe don’t announce a treasure‑hunting ‘get rich quick scheme’ in the middle of camp right after betraying everyone. Idiot move number one, right there.” She made a lazy “X” in the air with her finger. “Besides, watching you suffer like this? Worth every second.”

“Y—you’re enjoying this?!” Ishtar shot to her feet, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, sparks lighting her red eyes. “Fine then, laugh all you want! But when my grand plan pays off—yes! I’ll build a pyramid scheme so glorious, even Master will—”

Caenis threw her head back and barked, “PFFF—bwahaha! You’re still on about that scam!? Gods above, this is the best punishment they could’ve given you. Keep going, princess, I might die from second‑hand embarrassment before you can even pull it off!”

“B—Baka! It’s not embarrassing, it’s visionary!” Ishtar screeched, stamping one bare foot into the sand as if that proved the point.

1st Ascension. Anne & Mary. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Pirate Loyalty: 30% Gold, 70% Gropes.

The Greek temple’s stone walls loomed heavy with ancient traps, flickering torches casting jagged shadows along cracked columns. Caenis strode shoulder‑to‑shoulder with Master, white hair swaying, horse ears twitching at every creak of the floor. The black bikini clung tight to her curvy body as she swept one hand across the path, hyper‑focused bodyguard written in every line of her frame.

From the next chamber came a burst of girlish laughter and the clatter of spilling treasures. Anne twirled into view, long blonde twintails bouncing beneath a white cocked hat, her massive breasts almost spilling out of a white ruffled bikini as she hugged an overloaded chest of coins. Behind her, Mary calmly marched forward, red ruffled bikini clinging to her scar‑mapped body, blue eyes flat as a coin while she dragged a sack of loot bigger than herself.

“Yo!” Caenis barked, then suddenly… smirked. Her arms dropped loose. “Welp. Bodyguard contract void. Guess what, shrimp? I’m switching sides.” She marched right over, threw an arm around Anne’s soft shoulders, and leaned into her. “These horny loot‑goblins at least pay on time. You should’ve seen the cake stash they promised me.”

Anne gasped in delight, bouncing so hard her ample breasts pressed shamelessly against Caenis’s arm. “Kyaa~! A reliable lady finally joins our crew! Isn’t this the CUTEST twist, Mary? Now we can share treasure and share Master snuggles with our new partner in crime~!”

Mary dropped her sack with a dull thunk. She tilted her head, expression blank. “So basically… she got bored of walking in a straight line. Classic Caenis.” She shrugged, then deadpanned, “Fine. As long as she takes turns holding Master down when it’s kiss‑time.”

Caenis flinched, round ass shifting under the red cloth at her thigh as she twisted to glare. “O‑oi! Don’t drag me into your cuddle‑orgies. I’m here for sugar and loot, nothing else!” Her black sandals slapped against stone as she stomped her foot in protest.

Anne giggled, clasping her hands together like a lovestruck maiden. “Ehh? But imagine it, Caenis~! All three of us hugging Master tight, rolling over piles of gold! A group treasure snuggle, deshoo~!”

Mary nodded like she was announcing the weather. “She’s blushing already. Yep. She’s in.”

“Shut it, pipsqueak!” Caenis snarled, cheeks burning as she shoved Anne off just far enough to breathe. “I swear, one more word and I’m—tsk—ah whatever. Just gimme my damn parfaits and the shiny fragment.”

Anne spun in a circle, singing, “Parfaits, Grails, and kisses—our pirate bounty grows!” while Mary calmly pointed at Master on the other side of the chamber.

“So. Who kisses him first? Vote starts now.”

“Geeeeeze…” Caenis growled, dragging her hand down her face. “…This alliance is already killing me.”

1st Ascension. Anne & Mary. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Do Not Sell Out Your Boss For Cake (Unless It’s Really Good Cake).

The pirate cave glittered with gold doubloons, stolen trinkets, and crates of contraband stacked haphazardly beneath flickering torches. Caenis strode in with wet white hair clinging around her horse ears, curvy body on sharp display in a black bikini. One hand was fisted in Master’s collar, effortlessly dragging him across the stony floor until she dumped him in front of two smirking pirates perched proudly on rum barrels.

“Tch. There. One shrimp. Alive. Don’t say I never bring gifts,” Caenis said, flipping her damp ponytail back and holding out her hand expectantly.

Anne bounced up instantly, blonde twintails bouncing, massive breasts nearly spilling out of her frilly white bikini. “Kyaa~! He’s ours, Mary! Our darling treasure delivered gift‑wrapped!” She spun in a circle, cocked hat jingling as she squealed. “Ara‑ara, Caenis you angel, you absolute lifesaver!”

Mary didn’t stand, just swung one scarred leg idly from her perch, blue eyes blank as she eyed Master. “Mhm. Efficient. We should’ve bribed someone weeks ago instead of wasting stamina on those ambushes. Pirates forget sometimes that gold buys more than swords.” Her tone never lifted, but the tiniest flicker of a smirk tugged her lips. She tossed a small sack to Caenis. Inside: frosted cake slice and a gleaming Grail fragment. “Payment rendered.”

Caenis caught it, tilted her head, and unwrapped the cake without hesitation. “Oi, don’t look at me like that, shrimp. This isn’t betrayal. It’s outsourcing. They wanted you for a week, I wanted dessert, and Chaldea wanted the fragment. Win‑win‑win. Even Gordy would cry less paperwork this way.”

Anne crouched down, ample breasts squishing against her thighs as she leaned close to Master. “Ehehe~! You’ll be so spoiled, Master! Kisses, hugs, pirate snuggles, ooo maybe some naughty bed‑sailing, ufufu~!” Her twintails swished as she poked his cheek shamelessly.

Mary hopped off the barrel, landing with a soft thud. “He won’t last long. Anne smothers you with affection, I break you with… other things.” Her round ass shifted under the skimpy bikini as she circled behind him like a shark. “We’ll take turns. Efficient resource management.”

Anne gasped in mock offense and threw her arms dramatically wide. “Nooo! I’m his captain, you only get first mate privileges! I steer the ship, you swab the deck!”

Mary didn’t even blink. “Ships have two wheels sometimes. Dual steering. We’ll both be on top.”

Caenis, halfway through her cake, barked a laugh. “Pfft—hah! And here I thought I was reckless. No wonder I like hanging with you idiots. Brutally honest, zero shame. Gods, you’re ten times more straightforward than half of Chaldea’s so‑called ‘heroes.’” She flicked crumbs from her fingers, eyes glinting. “Fine. Argue all you want, but don’t forget—at the end of the day, I get first slice of any cake that comes in. That’s the real captain’s seat.”

Anne and Mary answered in eerie perfect unison, leaning in close to Master with wicked smiles: “Treasure first, dessert first… same thing ♥”

1st Ascension. Drake. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Loyalty Lasts Until The Next Round of Drinks.

The cavern glittered with stolen gold and damp salt‑shine, lanterns swinging from rusty hooks. Caenis leaned against a jagged pillar in her white hair and horse ears, black bikini clinging tight to her curvy body as she crossed her arms with a guilty scowl. Nearby, Drake leaned on a barrel, red pirate coat open wide over her ample cleavage, pink hair wild, a flask sloshing in hand. Master sat against a stone column, ropes still dripping seawater onto the floor.

“Tch… don’t give me that look, shrimp. I didn’t flip sides ‘cause I wanted to! I lost a goddamn card game, alright? One lousy hand and this hag’s grinning at me like a shark—next thing I know, I’m wearing her colors. Haaahhh, seriously… note to self, never touch poker with Drake again or you’ll end up losing your underwear.” Caenis adjusted the red cloth tied at her thigh, trying to sound tough while she looked one step from sulking.

“Hah!” Drake cackled, boots crunching over loose coins as she swaggered close, blue eyes glinting. “Don’t listen to her whining, lad. It wasn’t a kidnapping, it was destiny! Fortune favors the bold, and I hold all the cards. You? You’re not a prisoner—you’re the grand prize. My golden goose, my darling treasure! Why would I waste you on ransom when I can recruit you proper?” She swung her round ass onto the nearest pile of loot, nearly toppling a goblet, then winked. “Join me, sweetheart. A pirate’s life—rum by day, riches by night, and maybe a bunkmate with a scar or two~”

Caenis barked, “Oi, oi, don’t make it sound like you’re building a harem outta Chaldean leftovers! You’re seriously expecting him to jump ship ‘cause you batted your lashes? Jeez, you’re even dumber drunk than sober.” She jabbed a thumb at Master, sandals scraping stone. “And don’t think I don’t see where this is going—she just wants you to melt into her crew ‘cause she’s too damn lazy to fight fair.”

Drake took another swig, foam dripping from the corner of her mouth. “Lazy? Darling, it’s called efficient. Why raid Chaldea when I can lure out its sweetest jewel without firing a single shot?” She leaned forward, breasts brushing the ropes as she whispered with mock sincerity, “Be honest—between her nagging and my generous offer, who’d you rather answer to?”

“Oi!!” Caenis smacked her gauntlet against the wall with a loud CLANG. “Don’t you dare make it sound like he’s got a choice. He doesn’t. He’s my shrimp, damn it—and I’ll drag him back the second your luck bubble pops, you drunk hag!”

Drake just laughed louder, flask waving high, lantern light dancing across her face. “And that, boy, is the beauty of it! You don’t have to choose. You’ll inevitably end up mine anyway—fate’s been cheating at my table since day one!”

1st Ascension. Mordred. Chaldea Summer Adventure. The Greatest Acts of Rebellion Often Begin With a Simple Desire to Avoid Chores.

"Right, stay here," Caenis grunted, gesturing at the round-headlight jalopy parked near the cliffs. With her white hair and horse ears flicking in the sea breeze, she walked around to the back. Her curvy body was clad in a simple black bikini. "Gotta grab my spare harpoon tips... damn things keep rusting in this salty air. Don't touch anything, shrimp."

The second she was out of sight, a figure in a red bikini and dripping-wet blonde hair whistled nonchalantly, strolling out from behind the driver's side door, surfboard tucked under her arm. Mordred froze mid-whistle, green eyes widening as she spotted Master. "Oh. Uh... hey there. Don't mind me. I'm... not Mordred."

Caenis poked her head back around the jalopy, a handful of metal tips in her palm. Her eyes darted from Mordred to Master, and she let out a long, suffering sigh. "Fucking... really?" She stomped back over, gesturing vaguely at Mordred's very recognizable face. "Yeah, see? Not Mordred. This is... uh... Mo-san. Yeah. M-O'-san. She's a... foreign exchange surfer. From... Ireland. Doesn't speak a word of English."

Mordred nodded frantically, pointing to herself. "'Top o' the mornin' to ya, laddy!' See? Totally Irish. Gotta... go find a leprechaun. Smell ya later!" She tried to sidle past, but Caenis grabbed her by the shoulder. The red cloth on Caenis' thigh fluttered as she shifted her weight. "Stop, you're making it worse, you idiot."

Caenis dropped the harpoon tips into a side pouch with a metallic clatter, then folded her arms over her ample breasts. "Fine. Alright, you caught us. This moron's been crashing here to hide from Gareth. Turns out being 'knightly' means you can't even skip etiquette lessons without your psycho 'sister' hunting you down. Tch. Pathetic."

"HEY! It's not pathetic, it's... tactical evasion!" Mordred shot back, planting her surfboard in the sand. "And your van smells like stale parfaits and rage! It's not exactly a five-star hotel, y'know!"

"It's a five-star hotel compared to getting lectured on napkin placement for three hours!" Caenis retorted, jabbing a finger into Mordred's chest. "Now shut up before she hears us and we both have to listen to her talk about 'deportment!'"

1st Ascension. Scathach. Chaldea Summer Adventure. There’s a Fine Line Between "Tough Love" and "Being a Goddamn Menace for Fun."

Caenis stormed toward the camp’s edge, a black bikini taut against her curvy body, white hair and horse ears rigid with pure annoyance. Just ahead, Scathach was strolling along the sand, a picture of lethal grace in her red bikini and sarong. She spotted Master and was just about to greet him when Caenis slid to a halt right in her path.

“You!” she barked, stabbing a finger at Scathach’s chest. “We need to talk, you old hag.”

Scathach blinked, an unreadable smile playing on her lips. “Oh? And here I was, simply enjoying the sea breeze. Must we interrupt this lovely day with such... intensity? It’s bad for the skin.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit! That stunt you and Skadi pulled—forcing me into this… you knew, didn’t you? Hah? You knew how much I fucking hated the ocean.” Caenis planted her hands on her hips, her round ass shifting defiantly as she leaned forward. “You thought it’d be a funny joke to watch me squirm?”

“I thought it would suit you,” Scathach said, her tone as calm as the placid horizon. She idly adjusted the knot on her sarong, revealing a flash of her impossibly toned thigh. “And it does. You wear it well. Strength looks good in the sun.”

Caenis faltered, her face twisting in a scowl. “Tch… whatever.” She kicked at a seashell with one of her black sandals. “...It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. The summer, I mean. Goredolf keeps stuffing me with cake, the shrimp over there isn’t a complete waste of space to guard… It’s… fine.”

“Is that so?” Scathach’s red eyes held a knowing glint.

“Yeah, it is!” Caenis insisted, a little too loudly. “So… what this was some kind of lesson, then? One of your usual ‘overcome your weakness by getting your ass kicked’ training drills?”

Scathach actually laughed, a soft, musical sound. “A lesson? Goodness, no. You simply looked like you were overheating in armor. It’s summer. One should dress for the occasion.” She turned to the Master with a warm smile, as if the entire confrontation had never happened. “See? Trivial, wasn’t it? Such a tiny hatred is easily cast aside when the mood is right.”

1st Ascension. Chaldea Summer Adventure. Group Intervention. You Can’t Spell "Team" Without "T," Which Stands For "Treason."

The camp mess tent was packed tighter than a pirate’s treasure chest. A single lantern swayed above, casting the room in dramatic shadows—like a bad melodrama recreation on late-night TV. At the long table sat Achilles, Mandricardo, Charlotte, Blackbeard, Nagiko, Goredolf, and Master as the “mandatory audience.” At the head of the table sat the accused: Caenis. White hair, horse ears twitching, black bikini barely tolerating her curvy body. Arms crossed. Scowl level: volcanic.

“Alright, everyone,” Goredolf announced, puffing up in a heroic stance, spatula scepter clutched tight. “This is an intervention. We’re here to address Caenis’s… chronic ‘betrayal problem.’”

“Tch.” Caenis kicked one sandal against the table leg like a bored delinquent in detention. “The hell’s this, a tribunal? What’s next, public flogging with pool noodles? Lame.”

Charlotte nervously raised her hand. “Um, Caenis-san? The other day at lunch you said you’d save me a pudding cup… but then you, um, spiked it with sea salt and gave it to Mash instead. She cried. For twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, and it was hilarious!” Caenis shot back. “That girl needs seasoning in her life.”

Mandricardo muttered into his knees, “I mean… she also re-betrayed me in the cliff climb race. Said she’d ‘be my rope support’ and then—uh—cut it halfway so I landed in a bush. Still pulling thorns out of my ass. But… it’s okay, I probably deserved it—”

“No!” Achilles slapped the table so hard the cutlery jumped. His confident grin gleamed as stupidly as ever. “Betrayal is serious, Caenis! A teammate should be trustworthy! Look at me! Have I ever betrayed anyone?”

“Bro, you betrayed the laws of physics yesterday when Steggy ate your hair thinking it was grass!” Nagiko cackled from on top of a supply crate, legs swinging. “That was like, a level 99 illusion of hope and you failed the check, lmao.”

“UMU!” Blackbeard boomed, springing to his feet. “She betrayed me the worst of all! We were allies, nay, brothers-in-arms, and when the golden chili-fries of legend appeared, SHE LEAPT ACROSS MY BODY AND BODY-SLAMMED ME INTO THE SAND TO GET THEM!”

Goredolf didn’t miss a beat. “Hm. Good. Approved. You’ll get a bonus for that one, Caenis.”

Blackbeard froze. “…Wait, w-what?”

Caenis barked a laugh, smacking one fist into her palm. “HAH! See? At least someone appreciates quality treachery!”

“This isn’t… Ugh.” Goredolf pinched his brow, veins throbbing. “No, listen, the point of an intervention is for you to reflect on your problem and—”

“Problem?” Caenis stood, chair screeching back, her round ass bumping the table as she loomed tall. “Lemme tell you the REAL problem—you’re all soft. Summer’s boring as hell without a backstab or two to keep ya on edge. You’d thank me if you had a spine, shrimp-brains.”

A heavy silence fell. Even the lantern creaked ominously.

Then Nagiko shrieked, “SHE’S RIGHT THO! Chaos is hella lit!!” and hurled an empty coconut cup at the wall. Steggy waddled in and sneezed glitter all over the place. Mandricardo fainted.

“…Fine!” Goredolf roared, throwing his spatula like a gavel. “This intervention is OVER! But dinner is still mandatory service, so SIT DOWN!”

Caenis smirked, snagging the biggest plate in one swoop. “That’s what I thought. Intervention canceled. Betrayal tradition—still alive, losers.”

Blackbeard wiped a tear. “This is the worst intervention I’ve ever been part of… and I once attended one for MYSELF…”