The "Cosmic Dentist" incident had left the capital in a state of minty-fresh devastation. The SSS-Rank Rakshasa wasn't exactly dead—at least, not in the traditional sense. The "medicated mint" interpretation had shattered its ego and its internal mana circuitry so thoroughly that the beast had undergone a forced "System Reversion."
Instead of a mountain-sized obsidian nightmare, what sat in the center of the smoking crater was a tiger the size of a large motorcycle. Its abyssal fur was still black as a black hole, and violet lightning still flickered in its mane, but it was currently rubbing its face against a piece of jagged rebar, purring with the frequency of a low-end earthquake.
"Look at you," I muttered, leaning against a half-melted lamppost. I was still shaking from the near-death experience, and my SP was so low I was starting to see the UI code flickering in the air like gnats. "From a Seat of Despair to a glorified space-kitten."
> **[System Message]**
> **[I hope you're happy, you absolute bottom-feeder. You didn't just kill a legend; you lobotomized a primordial force of destruction. It thinks you're its mother, or at the very least, its primary healthcare provider. I feel sick just looking at this.]**
>
"Shut up," I said, looking at the tiger. It let out a tiny *mew* that caused the ground to crack. "He needs a name. Something that reflects his terrifying heritage and his current... state."
> **[System Message]**
> **[Don't you dare.]**
>
"Meet **Fluffy the Destroyer**," I declared.
> **[System Message]**
> **[I hate you. I hate everything you stand for. You are a Rank NULL glitch with a SSS-Rank mount. This world's balance is officially in a dumpster fire. Go eat a bag of glass.]**
>
Two hours later, we were back at the Academy. The city was still on fire, but the Academy's cafeteria had managed to stay open thanks to a high-level barrier and the fact that lunch ladies are the most powerful entities in any reality.
The line for the "Gladiator's Special" (Meatloaf and mashed potatoes) was roughly four miles long. Hundreds of hungry, traumatized students were shuffled together, grumbling about the dungeon break and the loss of their dorms.
I stood at the very back of the line, my stomach growling. In front of me stood Jude, who was currently being consoled by three fan girls. He looked like he'd been dragged through a bush backwards, his golden armor covered in soot.
"I fought bravely," Jude was telling them, his voice high and thin. "I held the line until that... that *thing* appeared. No one could have survived it. Viktor Volkov is almost certainly a smudge on the pavement by now."
"Excuse me," I said, tapping Jude on the charred shoulder guard.
Jude spun around, his eyes bulging. "Volkov?! You're alive? How? I saw the Rakshasa move toward you! I saw the dimensional claws!"
"Oh, that?" I shrugged, leaning against the massive, obsidian-furred shoulder of the tiger standing behind me. Fluffy let out a low growl, a sound like grinding tectonic plates, and a small spark of violet lightning jumped from his nose to Jude's cape. "He was just cranky. He had a bad tooth. We've worked it out."
The cafeteria went dead silent. The students, the faculty, and the lunch ladies all stared at the "Calamity King" currently wearing a pink collar I'd found in the ruins.
"Is that... is that the Seat of Despair?" the Instructor stammered from the side, his remaining arm shaking. "You... you tamed it?"
"I interpreted his need for a home," I lied calmly. I wasn't allowed to use the Interpretation skill for another 46 hours, but I could still speak the language of absolute bullshit. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Fluffy and I are starving."
I hopped onto Fluffy's back. The obsidian fur was surprisingly soft, like silk made of midnight.
"Fluffy," I whispered, patting his head. "Clear the path. We're getting the last tray of meatloaf."
Fluffy didn't need a skill. He just took one step forward and let out a **[Slightly Hungry Purr]**.
The sound wave hit the line of students. It wasn't an attack, but the sheer, primal terror of an SSS-Rank predator caused everyone—including Jude—to involuntarily dive into the nearest trash cans or bushes. The line dissolved like sugar in hot water.
I rode Fluffy right up to the serving station. The lunch lady, a woman who had survived three wars and a dragon invasion, stared at the tiger. Then she looked at me.
"Extra gravy?" she asked, her voice steady.
"Please," I smiled.
I sat at the central table—usually reserved for S-Rank royalty—eating my meatloaf while Fluffy sat at my feet, chewing on a massive bone I'd "Void-Harvested" from a lesser demon. The entire school watched us in a state of collective, horrified awe.
> **[System Message]**
> **[You are using a world-ending catastrophe to skip the line for meatloaf. You are truly the most despicable human I have ever encountered. I hope the gravy gives you a mild stomach ache, you entitled prick.]**
>
"Shut up, System," I thought, feeding Fluffy a piece of mashed potato. "The gravy is delicious."