[SP-F22] Peace in a Perilous World

[KnightessCiela 0]

When Ciela first stumbled across the abandoned cabin, it didn’t look like much. Hidden behind a screen of overgrown shrubs and nestled at the edge of the lake on Floor 22, it seemed more like a forgotten relic than a future sanctuary. The wood siding had been weathered gray by years of digital rain and sun cycles, and the windows were clouded with grime. Most players would have dismissed it as a background asset, part of the scenery, not something meant to be touched.

But Ciela had been searching for something. Not gear. Not glory. Just a place to breathe.

She stepped through the creaky door, brushing cobwebs from the frame, and felt it immediately: a quiet warmth, something unspoken. A whisper of potential. It was as though the world itself paused, waiting to see what she would do.

Inside, the space was small but sturdy. A hearth sat cold against the far wall, unused but not broken. A wide picture window overlooked the lake, offering a view that took her breath away. And in the corner, a neglected kitchen with worn counters and rusted pans, waiting for someone to remember how to use them.

Ciela stood in the center of the room, slowly turning to take it all in.

She didn’t know then that this place would become her haven, her purpose, and her pride. She just knew that it felt right. So she claimed it.

With borrowed tools and long hours, she scrubbed and patched and polished. She added shelves for spices, repainted the walls a soft cream, and hung up curtains patterned with cherries and hearts. It took weeks to replace the cracked floorboards and longer still to build the deck that stretched out toward the water. But when she finally stood on the finished planks, a warm cup of tea in hand, she knew she’d done something meaningful.

In a world filled with chaos and danger, Ciela had carved out peace with her bare hands. Here, in this once forgotten home, she would build something beautiful.

Her bakery. Her new life.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 345

* * *

Ciela uses: Yui's Grace = 200 * Tier EXP

Spoiler

KnightessCiela | HP: 545/545 | EN: 68/68 | DMG: 11 | MIT:121 | ACC:2 | TAUNT | THORNS:27 | BH:6 | REGEN: 24 | REC: 3

* * *

Spoiler

"Name: KnightessCiela
True Tier: 3
Level: 25
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 545/545
EN: 68/68

Stats:
Damage: 11
Mitigation: 121
Accuracy: 2
Battle Healing: 6
Stealth Rating: -5
TAUNT REGEN: 24
REC: 3

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - Defender's Longsword | T3 Perfect Straight Sword | ACC II | DMG I
Armor/Trinket: 
  - Frightening Rosethorn | T3 Perfect Heavy Armor | Taunt | Thorns II
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - Rejuvenating Kite Shield | T3 Perfect Shield | Recovery | Regen II

Combat Mastery:
  - Combat Mastery: Mitigation R3

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - Protector Familiar

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:
  - Battle Healing R1
  - Heavy Armor R5
  - Howl
  - Straight Sword R5

Extra Skills:
  - Block R3
  - Forgotten King's Authority
  - Survival
  - Frozen Hide
  - Concentration

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:
  - Focused Howl
  - Iron Skin

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:
  - Nepent's Ovule x3
  - T1 Rare Health Potion: Heals 10% MAX HP x5
  - T1 Uncommon Health Potions: Heals 5% of MAX HP x1
  - T1 Uncommon Overhealth Potion: Adds 5% of MAX HP to users x1
  - Teleport Crystal x1

Housing Buffs:
  - Extended Workshop: +2 Crafting EXP per crafting attempt and +1 crafting attempt per day
  - Greenhouse: +2 Gathering EXP per Attempt and additional +1 LD & CD to gathering attempts.

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:
 - Cooking[731exp] R7
Gathering Profession:
 - Forager[66exp] R2"                                                                                                                            

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A few months after remodeling and setting up...

Ciela never expected to find comfort in flour dusted counters and the soft hum of warm ovens. Her bakery, Fondante's Inferno, perched near the edge of Floor 22’s shimmering lakeside district, was her personal sanctuary amidst the chaos of Aincrad.

Decorating it had become her new quest, one far less dangerous than the dungeons and bosses of higher floors but no less meaningful. A place where she could lose herself, not in battles or strategy, but in buttercream and fondant ribbons. The exterior resembled a rustic lakeside cabin, with warm wooden siding, a shingled roof, and stone accents along the base. Ivy crept along the edges, lending a touch of wilderness to the charm. A wide wooden deck stretched out from the back of the bakery, partially covered to provide shelter from rain or sun. It offered just enough space for a few tables and chairs, making it the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the breeze off the lake. Ciela often brought her coffee out there in the early mornings, the view of the rippling water providing a rare moment of calm. Handmade flowerboxes beneath each window overflowed with pink asters and bluebells, their cheerful blooms catching the morning light and giving the whole place a vibrant, lived-in charm.

Inside, Ciela stood on a step stool, stretching to adjust a banner pinned above the service counter. The banner read: "Fondante's Inferno: Where Sweet Meets Fire."

She chuckled. Wulfrin had rolled his eyes at the pun, but secretly, she knew he liked it.

Today marked the grand opening. Her stomach churned with a cocktail of nerves and excitement as she surveyed her handiwork. Polished wooden counters, delicate pastry displays kept cool with cleverly vented shelving and insulated panels, and the lingering scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and freshly baked dreams.

And yet, even as she twirled a ribbon onto a basket of morning croissants, a thought pulled at the corner of her mind: Why do I feel like something’s missing?

 

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 339

 

Edited 9 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A few days later...

The bell above the door jingled, mechanical and charming, and Ciela nearly dropped her piping bag. Her first customer.

A tall, nervous player with messy auburn hair shuffled inside. His gear was worn, not frontline, likely a mid-tier gatherer or low-level crafter.

"Um, hi," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Are you open?"

Ciela’s face lit up with a practiced but genuine smile. "Sure am. Welcome to Fondante’s Inferno! I’ve got tarts, tea, and enough sugar to give Cerberus a stomach ache."

He blinked, then laughed. "I’ll take whatever you recommend."

That became a ritual. He was followed by a duo of giggling newbie girls, then a quiet fisherman named Tam from the northern shore. Ciela served them each something special, lemon cakes for the girls, honey bread for Tam, and for the nervous auburn-haired player, cinnamon twists "just like home."

But not all visitors came in peace. Mid-afternoon, a guild of five loud players barged in, demanding drinks without checking the menu and commenting on the decor like they owned the place. Ciela’s eye twitched. Perlita, her otter companion, bared her tiny teeth.

Ciela forced a smile. One day of peace. Just one. Is that so hard to ask for?

 

 * * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 206

 

Edited 9 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A month later...

It was late. The warm golden glow of the bakery had dimmed to soft candlelight, casting flickering shadows along the wooden walls and countertops dusted in flour. Outside, the lake rippled gently beneath a sky painted in indigo and silver, its surface reflecting the stars with an almost magical stillness. The wind was still, the world hushed, as if Aincrad itself had paused to breathe.

Ciela leaned against the doorframe of her bakery, arms folded and gaze distant. Her apron was still dusted with powdered sugar, a streak of cinnamon smudged across her cheek. The air was filled with the lingering scents of vanilla, spice, and butter, warm and nostalgic, like a memory held just beneath the surface.

She loved this. The quiet. The solitude.

Yet even wrapped in this peace, a sigh escaped her lips.

"What’s this all for, really?" she muttered into the silence. "I’m baking cookies in a death game."

The words hung in the air, absurd and honest all at once. Sometimes she felt foolish for focusing on sugar and pastry while others fought on the frontlines. But then she remembered what Wulfrin had told her once she told him she wanted to open a bakery: We find purpose wherever we can. Even in cupcakes.

The memory brought a small smile to her lips. He would be back soon, likely soot-streaked and exhausted, in need of a hot meal and a quiet place to land.

Ciela pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the kitchen. She tied her hair back into its usual loose ponytail and washed her hands, the familiar rhythm of it grounding her.

There was always something to bake. Something to create. That was the point, wasn’t it?

She moved around the space with ease, reaching for her spice rack and pulling out clove, nutmeg, and a touch of cardamom, an experimental blend for a midnight batch of spiced shortbread. The gentle crackle of the oven preheating mingled with the quiet clinks of mixing bowls and utensils.

As she stirred the dough, her mind wandered. She thought about the people who came in, tired adventurers, new players seeking comfort, children giggling over muffins too big for their hands. Her baking made people smile, even if just for a moment. In a world that constantly reminded them of mortality, wasn’t that worth something?

Perlita snoozed curled up in the corner, little paws twitching as she dreamed. Even the otter seemed to understand tonight's mood, soft, reflective, and just a touch melancholy.

Ciela shaped the dough into small hearts, pressing each one gently as if sealing a quiet intention into every bite. She placed them on the baking sheet, slid it into the oven, and leaned back against the counter. The heat was comforting. So was the silence.

No, she didn’t wield a massive sword or chart boss mechanics. But here, in this little haven by the lake, she could still fight, for joy, for warmth, for hope.

Maybe that was enough.

 * * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 501

 

Edited 8 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

The next morning started with a system notification: New Order Received: 12 Honey Cakes, 8 Savory Rolls. Delivery requested: Floor 16, the village of Atalina.

Atalina was a quiet village nestled atop a breathtaking series of massive stone outcroppings, each resembling gnarled tree branches stretching over a crescent-shaped lake. The view was ethereal, floating homes and walkways built right into the rock, connected by narrow bridges and winding staircases. It wasn’t the easiest place to reach, but Ciela adored its charm. This was her first time visiting, and the awe in her eyes was unmistakable. Delivering here felt more like a pilgrimage than a task, with each step offering a new perspective of the tranquil lake below.

Ciela stretched, cracked her knuckles, and began prepping the dough.

Halfway through kneading, a commotion outside caught her ear, players arguing over item drops near the deck. Sighing, she wiped her hands and stepped outside.

"This is a bakery, not a battleground," she called. Her voice was firm, no longer shy like it once was.

The players quieted. One of them, a sheepish-looking archer, nodded. "Sorry, miss. We’ll move along."

Back inside, Ciela rolled her eyes. "Every day is an event, huh?"

She finished the order just in time, carefully arranging each item into her signature parchment-lined, baby pink tins, each one bearing the delicate heart-shaped emblem of Fondante’s Inferno. With a satisfied nod, she pinged the runner NPC assigned to deliveries. It still felt strange trusting an AI with her creations, but so far, the system hadn’t failed her.

As she returned to the balcony with a mug of tea, she let her eyes wander across the lake.

Not every quest required a sword. Some, like hers, just needed sugar and a little faith.

 * * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 292

 

Edited 8 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

Months later...

Ciela was halfway through decorating a fresh batch of rose-shaped meringues when the bell chimed once more. She looked up, expecting another wide-eyed newbie or soft-spoken wanderer looking for Wulfrin.

Instead, the man who stepped inside was anything but. Tall and broad-shouldered, his armor bore the polished crest of the Crimson Fang guild, a group known more for aggression than manners. His name hovered above him: Varris. Right above his name, an orange cursor.

He didn’t greet her. He didn’t glance at the pastries. He walked straight to the counter, leaned an elbow on the glass, and stared her down.

“So you’re the girl with the bakery,” he said, voice low and oily. “Heard this place was getting… popular.”

Ciela narrowed her eyes slightly but kept her smile. “You heard right. Can I get you something?”

“Yeah,” Varris said, tapping the counter. “Respect. This spot’s in our claimed territory. Floor 22, west lakefront. Crimson Fang keeps it secure. And that means-”

“It means you’re trying to shake me down for protection money,” Ciela cut in, crossing her arms. Her tone was flat. Calm.

The room went silent.

Varris grinned. “You catch on fast.”

“I bake cookies,” she replied, turning away. “I don’t pay bullies.”

Perlita, ever attuned to tension, let out a low chirp from beneath the counter, her little body on high alert.

Varris straightened. “You sure about that? Things happen. You might have ingredient delays, NPCs going missing. Maybe that delivery runner doesn’t make it to his next destination.”

Ciela turned back, her fingers resting lightly on a rolling pin near the prep area.

“Try it,” she said, voice still soft but laced with steel. “And you’ll find out exactly what’s in my inventory that isn’t sugar.”

For a moment, Varris looked ready to test her.

Then the door opened again.

“Am I interrupting?”

Wulfrin.

He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes hard. The tension in the room twisted like a coiled spring.

Varris’s smug expression flickered. Just briefly, before he turned on his heel. “Nice place,” he muttered as he left. “Hope it lasts.”

Ciela let out a breath and shook her head.

Wulfrin walked up to her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning slightly into him. “But I think we’ve got trouble brewing.”

He nodded. “Then we’ll deal with it. Together.”

And just like that, Ciela’s peaceful corner of Aincrad wasn’t so quiet anymore.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 402

 

Edited 7 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

 Two weeks later...

The morning mist was still clinging to the lake when Ciela tucked a few extra loaves of honey-butter bread into a tin. Floor 16 was colder than Floor 22, and she wanted to make sure her customer had something warm to enjoy with their view. This would be her first personal delivery to Atalina, and despite the effort it took to navigate its winding walkways and gravity-defying bridges, she found herself looking forward to the trip.

The floating village still felt like a dream. Perched on its branch-like stone outcroppings above a pale blue lake, Atalina shimmered in the early light like something out of a painting. Her boots clicked softly on the weathered wooden planks of the connecting walkways as she passed fishermen setting up their rods and a sleepy pair of crafters sweeping the front of a potion shop carved into the stone.

When she reached the overlook, Ciela set down the pink tin and sat beside it on a low stone bench. It was rare she let herself just be still. For a moment, she did nothing more than breathe.

A few minutes passed before a cloaked figure appeared to collect the order. Ciela offered a warm smile, rising to greet them. "Good morning! Hope you brought your appetite."

The player chuckled, lifting the lid and inhaling deeply. "You have no idea how much this beats field rations."

They thanked her and disappeared just as quickly, leaving Ciela alone once again with the whisper of the lake wind in her ears. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a notebook, flipping to a dog-eared page.

Ideas for new recipes inspired by Atalina:

• Frosted lakeberry tart
• Spiced stonefruit crumble
• Steamed dumplings with honey glaze

As she scribbled notes, her fingers smudged the ink slightly, but she didn’t care. This was her joy. Every delivery, every tin, every smile was another thread in the tapestry of a life she never thought she could have here.

And in the quiet spaces between tasks, in moments like this, Ciela found something even sweeter than her baked goods: peace.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 351

 

Edited 7 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

 The next day...

The morning dew clung lazily to the grass outside as Ciela opened the front door of Fondante’s Inferno. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the ivy that curled along the bakery's wooden siding. She stepped onto the deck, a cup of coffee in one hand and a delicate plate of powdered jelly donuts in the other. The day ahead was mercifully clear, no special orders, no irate adventurers, no dungeon runs to plan around. Just peace.

At least, it should have been peaceful.

Perlita, her ever-mischievous otter companion, had other plans. The little furball scampered through the open door and straight onto the deck, eyes gleaming with purpose. With a practiced leap, she snatched one of the donuts right off the plate and darted under the table.

"Perlita! That’s not for you!" Ciela half-laughed, half-scolded as she dropped to her knees and tried to coax the thief out with a fish tart. Perlita peeked from under the bench, nose twitching, clearly negotiating whether a trade-up was worth it.

Eventually, the otter surrendered the half-eaten donut in exchange for the tart, looking immensely pleased with herself. Ciela wiped the crumbs from her hands and leaned back in her chair, eyes closed as the breeze danced across her face.

A few birds chirped from the treetops, and the lake sparkled in the sunlight. For all the danger in Aincrad, there were still these perfect little slices of serenity.

Inside, the smell of fresh bread drifted from the oven she’d left preheating. No quests, no shouting, no system notifications, just the rhythmic, calming crackle of rising loaves and the soft pitter-patter of Perlita’s paws as she pranced triumphantly through the flour-dusted kitchen.

Ciela smiled to herself. Let the frontlines be chaos. Here, life was warm, golden, and covered in powdered sugar.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 303

 

Edited 7 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

 A week later...

Ciela hummed softly as she rolled out a sheet of dough, the scent of vanilla and sugar already clinging to the air. It was a quiet afternoon, the sort that wrapped around her shoulders like a soft blanket. The sun filtered through the windows in golden beams, and Perlita napped lazily near the oven, her little paws twitching in a dream.

Then came the knock.

It was soft, timid even. Not the usual confident rap of a player, nor the clumsy pounding of a delivery runner. Curious, Ciela dusted the flour from her hands and opened the door to find a small NPC child standing on the on the front porch. Wide-eyed, with tousled hair and scuffed shoes, the little boy looked up at her and clutched a note to his chest.

Ciela knelt to meet him eye-level. “Hi there, sweetie. You lost?”

He shook his head and handed over the note. It read:

“Miss Ciela, I’m sorry for the intrusion. My son, Eliot, has been watching your bakery every day. He says he wants to learn. Would you… maybe let him help you sometime?” There was no name signed, just a tiny heart.

Ciela looked back at the boy, Eliot, and saw a mixture of nerves and hope shimmering in his eyes. “You want to learn how to bake?” she asked gently.

He nodded, just once.

“Well then,” Ciela smiled, holding the door open wider, “you’d better wash your hands.”

Eliot stood on a stepstool beside her, sleeves rolled up and a smear of flour already across his cheek. Ciela guided his small hands through the basics, how to crack an egg, measure sugar without spilling, and stir without flinging batter halfway across the counter. Though that last one still happened. Twice.

Perlita had perked up the moment Eliot arrived and now watched the boy curiously from atop a flour sack, occasionally swatting at his apron strings like a cat with yarn.

“You see,” Ciela explained as she demonstrated how to fold the dough, “baking’s not about being perfect. It’s about being patient, kind, and paying attention to the little things. It’s sort of like raising something sweet from scratch.”

Eliot listened intently, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he imitated her movements. When he finally shaped his very first roll and placed it on the tray, he beamed with pride.

Ciela smiled back at him, her heart full. She hadn’t expected company today, much less a little sous chef. But the joy in Eliot’s face reminded her why she started this bakery in the first place.

They pulled the rolls from the oven together, golden and steaming. Eliot took a bite and his eyes lit up.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he mumbled through a full mouth.

Ciela ruffled his hair. “That’s because you made it.”

Outside, the lake shimmered in the late afternoon sun. Inside, laughter and the clinking of cooling trays filled the space like music. And in that moment, everything felt exactly right.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 507

 

Edited 7 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

 A month later...

Ciela was halfway through icing a fresh batch of berry tarts when she heard it, the unmistakable sound of a firework cracking in the distance. She looked up, startled, and then rushed to the back windows. From the bakery’s lake-facing view, she could see it clearly now: colorful banners flapping in the breeze, small boats with lanterns drifting out onto the lake, and townspeople, NPCs and players alike, gathering for something.

"Oh my stars," she murmured. "Is that today?"

Perlita let out a squeaky chirp and bounded toward the door as if confirming her suspicion.

The Lake Festival.

It was a seasonal event that only happened once a year in-game, something Ciela had read about but never actually seen. She hadn’t expected it to start so soon. The event promised rare item drops, mini-games, and special recipes, many of which were only available for a limited time. More importantly, it brought people from every floor down to Floor 22, turning the quiet lakeside into a bustling celebration.

Ciela quickly packed up what baked goods she had ready, loading them onto a decorated rolling cart she kept for just this sort of thing. She threw on her Fondante's Inferno branded pink apron and stepped outside, pulling the cart along the wooden deck toward the festival area.

Booths were already set up, games in full swing. She passed a noodle eating contest, a strength test involving a very sketchy looking hammer, and even a apple bobbing game that someone had clearly coded for chaos. Ciela found an open spot along the path near the water, unfurled her pink and cream striped awning, and began setting out cupcakes, tea cakes, and rolls.

A few familiar faces appeared from the crowd, Tam the fisherman gave her a wave, and the nervous auburn-haired boy from opening day picked up a frosted cookie with a bashful smile.

Perlita, however, had other plans. The little otter climbed up onto the cart, perched atop the cookie tins like a queen, and began chirping loudly at anyone who came too close. Ciela laughed, shooing her down gently.

“Be nice, Perli. They’re not trying to steal your snacks.”

Later in the evening, the first round of fireworks exploded over the lake, their reflections dancing across the surface. Ciela leaned on her cart, watching the display with wide eyes.

Someone tapped her shoulder. A new player, one she hadn’t seen before, stood with a curious smile and a strange token in his hand.

"Hey, you’re the baker, right? I just won this in one of the mini-games. Says here it’s redeemable for a ‘custom order at Fondante’s Inferno.’ That legit?"

Ciela blinked. She hadn’t made that. Perlita let out a suspicious chirp. “Well,” Ciela said, grinning, “it is now.”

She had no idea who snuck that into the event. But she had a feeling this festival wasn’t done surprising her yet. Ciela turned the token over in her hands after the new player left with a raspberry swirl cupcake. It shimmered with a faint gold sheen and bore the emblem of her bakery, a little heart with a flame curled around it. She never made these. Not officially, anyway.

She stared down at Perlita, who was now snacking on Ciela's signature fish treats. "You didn’t sneak these into the prize pool, did you?" Of course, Perlita only chirped in denial.

The rest of the festival unfolded like a dream. Musicians, both player and NPC, set up along the curved lakeshore, playing soft instrumental melodies. Couples danced under glowing lanterns. Children ran through the stalls laughing with sticky fingers and berry-stained mouths. Ciela sold out of cupcakes within the hour, but she stayed just to soak in the moment. There was something magical about the laughter and joy surrounding her, even in a world where danger loomed just outside the safety zones.

Just as she started packing up, a familiar voice called out behind her.

“So,” Wulfrin said, hands casually in his pockets, “how’d the raffle prize go over?”

Ciela turned, eyes wide. “You! I can't believe it! It was you the whole time!?”

He shrugged, that ever-mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gotta help you drum up some business. Thought it’d be more fun if it was a surprise.”

She shook her head, laughter bubbling up from her chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. The lights from the festival caught the edges of his armor and cast a soft golden hue over his features. “But you love me anyway.”

“I really do, and you're lucky I do,” Ciela whispered.

Wulfrin leaned in and kissed her, soft and slow, the kind of kiss that grounded her more than any safe zone ever could. The festival fireworks burst above them again, and Ciela melted into the moment, arms wrapping around him. The bakery, the lake, the sweets, the chaos, it all faded, leaving only the warmth of his lips and the distant laughter of a world she’d somehow built a life inside.

As they parted, Wulfrin chuckled. “I expect a reward, by the way.”

“Oh, you’ll get one,” Ciela said with a wink. “Just don’t expect cupcakes to be the only thing I know how to make sweet.”

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 875

 

[KnightessCiela 0]

The next day...

The joy of the festival lingered well into the next morning. Ciela stretched lazily as golden light filtered through the windows of Wulfrin’s home. She was curled up in a blanket on the couch, half-asleep and still smiling from the night before. The memory of fireworks and Wulfrin’s kiss played in her thoughts like a cherished dream.

From the kitchen, Wulfrin poured water into a kettle, and Ciela wandered over, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Through the wide kitchen window, the lake shimmered in the morning sun, and just beyond that, her bakery stood quiet and inviting, its deck still decorated from the festival. It was a beautiful sight, but something in the air felt off. A subtle tension, like the wind holding its breath.

Perlita was already up and skittering across the counter, chasing crumbs like it was her sworn duty. "You’re going to knock over the teapot again," Ciela murmured with a grin, gently guiding the otter down.

Ciela slipped out of the house with a warm goodbye, making her way down the lakeside path toward Fondante’s Inferno. The sky was still streaked with soft gold, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and dew-washed stone. Unlocking the bakery’s front door, she stepped into the calm of her sanctuary. Within minutes, flour dusted the counters as she rolled out dough for a fresh batch of croissants, the soft buttery layers folding perfectly beneath her practiced hands. The oven hummed quietly, and Perlita chirped while balancing a wooden spoon like a staff, clearly battling an imaginary foe on the prep table.

Ciela smiled to herself and turned back to her baking, fully immersed in the rhythm of the morning.

She barely noticed the flicker of movement outside the side window until the shadows moved again.

A knock came at the back door. Ciela approached, wiping her hands on her apron. When she opened it, no one was there.

Only a single crimson fang was etched into the wooden deck, a calling card. Her stomach dropped.

Before she could even step back inside, smoke curled up from the far side of the bakery. She turned and gasped, fire. Someone had tossed oil and embers onto the outer wall. The flames hadn’t spread far yet, but they licked hungrily at the edge of her herb planters.

A blur of steel and motion tore across the deck. Wulfrin.

He was already on it. With practiced precision, he dashed through the smoke, cloak flaring behind him, stomping out the fire while unsheathing his blade in one fluid motion. A nearby shadow bolted from the treeline. Wulfrin gave chase.

Ciela grabbed a bucket from under the counter and started dousing the smoldering embers. Perlita chirped frantically, carrying a small measuring cup of water in her mouth, attempting to help.

By the time Wulfrin returned, the intruder long gone, the fire was completely out. Ciela stood on the deck, face smudged with soot, eyes blazing.

"They tried to burn my bakery."

Wulfrin sheathed his blade, eyes scanning the woods. "Varris and his Crimson Fangs are getting bold."

She crossed her arms. "Well, next time they want to try something, they’ll find out this inferno burns hotter than they can handle."

Wulfrin stepped closer and gently brushed a smudge from her cheek while placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "They won’t touch this place again. Not while I’m breathing."

Ciela gave a fierce smile. "Let’s reinforce the place. Maybe some extra barriers, hidden alarms... something that gives us the edge."

Perlita chirped in agreement, puffed up and ready for battle.

The bakery would stand. No matter what.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 607

 

[KnightessCiela 0]

The morning after the attack, Ciela was up before the sun.

The bakery smelled faintly of smoke despite her best efforts to scrub every trace of it away. Still, she refused to let the events of the day before linger in her mood. If anything, it fueled her determination to reclaim the normalcy she had built here.

She opened the windows wide, letting in the fresh lakeside breeze. Perlita, ever her tiny sentinel, darted between sunbeams on the floor while occasionally glancing toward the deck, as if daring trouble to return. Ciela got to work.

The oven roared to life, and she slipped on her apron, still slightly singed at the corner. Croissant dough waited in the chilled drawer, yesterday’s prep, still perfect for rolling. She shaped each fold with practiced ease, layering butter between sheets of dough, humming softly as she worked. It was a melody her grandmother used to hum, one she hadn't thought of in years.

Customers trickled in slowly. Regulars like Tam the fisherman and the twin archers from Floor 19 offered quiet smiles and extra coin, their way of showing support without making it awkward. Ciela returned every smile.

“Good morning! Croissants are fresh. Try the peach-glazed one today, it’s a new experiment,” she said, sliding one across the counter.

No one mentioned the scorch mark outside. No one had to.

The warmth of the oven, the soft clinking of cups, and the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon reclaimed the space. By midday, it was as if the fire had never happened, at least on the surface.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 262

 

Edited 7 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

It was a quiet morning, the air still heavy with the scent of damp wood and smoke despite their efforts. The repairs had started, and Wulfrin had reinforced the deck with stronger beams while Ciela re-varnished the herb boxes and replanted the singed rosemary. She’d baked a fresh batch of cinnamon scones with clove and honey glaze, partly for comfort, mostly to reclaim the scent of her space. She had just set out the scones on a cooling rack when the front door creaked open. A small figure stood there.

“Eliot?” Ciela asked, a little surprised. She wiped her hands on a towel and approached. But Eliot wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a woman with long auburn curls, tired eyes, and the same quiet strength Ciela remembered from when she first saw them leaving town together weeks ago.

“Nora,” she breathed. Nora smiled gently, one hand resting protectively on Eliot’s shoulder. “He kept asking if we could come back. I wasn’t sure if it was okay, after everything.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Ciela said immediately, stepping forward and wrapping Nora in a gentle hug. “This place is for people who need it. You both included.”

Eliot gave her a bashful grin. “I’ve been practicing my rolls. I even tried adding lemon zest like you showed me.”

Ciela’s heart softened. “Well, you’ll have to show me. I’ve got dough ready and everything.”

Nora looked around at the warmly lit bakery, at the lake glimmering through the back windows, at Perlita rolling a berry across the counter like it was treasure. “You’ve made something beautiful here.”

Ciela chuckled. “Only because I’ve had good people around me.” The oven dinged. “Come on,” she said, turning with a smile. “Let’s make something sweet. The world’s rough enough, this little corner doesn’t have to be.”

Outside, the wind carried off the last trace of smoke, replacing it with the warm scent of sugar and second chances.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 321

 

Edited 6 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A few days later...

Late morning light spilled through the front windows of Fondante's Inferno, casting golden pools across the floor. The scent of freshly baked raspberry pinwheels filled the air, and the hum of soft music crackled faintly from the corner phonograph. Ciela was at the counter boxing up a special order when the front bell jingled, signaling another customer.

A tall player with jagged red armor and an annoyed scowl strode in. His username read "Grit." He didn’t so much as look at the display before slapping a hand down on the counter.

"Twenty col for two croissants. That’s robbery."

Ciela didn’t blink. “The price is fourty for two. Made fresh, with rare golden butter from one of the local farms.”

Grit snorted. "They’re pastries, not potions. I’ve seen cheaper on Floor 10."

She gave him a flat look. “Then I suggest you walk there.”

He leaned closer. “Or maybe you make a deal, and I don’t start telling people this place overcharges.”

Before Ciela could reply, a calm voice cut in. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A new player stepped up to the counter. She wore sleek black leathers with a subtle silver trim, her name reading "Kael." She wasn’t flashy, but something about her presence was steadying, like a sword unsheathed but not yet raised.

Kael turned to Grit. “The baker’s prices are more than fair. This isn’t the auction house.”

Grit scoffed. "What, you her guard dog?"

“No,” Kael said simply. “Just someone who respects quality. And manners.”

Ciela watched as Grit bristled, weighing his options. After a tense pause, he sneered and turned for the door. “Whatever. Not worth it.”

The bell jingled behind him.

Kael turned back to the counter. “Sorry about that. Some people think kindness is weakness.”

Ciela smiled faintly. “They'd be smart to learn otherwise.”

Kael nodded, then added, “I’ll take two of those pinwheels. Full price."

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 320

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

The next day...

This morning was unusually quiet, save for the gentle clatter of mixing bowls and the occasional squeak of Perlita darting between flour sacks like a sugar-charged comet.

Ciela was mid-way through a new tart recipe when Wulfrin strolled in, sleeves rolled up and hair slightly mussed from the breeze. "I figured I’d lend a hand," he said casually, already reaching for an apron.

Ciela raised a brow. "Since when do you bake?"

"Since now," Wulfrin grinned, grabbing a mixing bowl. "How hard can it be?"

Ciela handed him the cookie recipe she’d written out, smirking. "Famous last words."

Wulfrin dove in with gusto. He followed the recipe, or so he claimed. Measuring flour, sugar, butter, cracking eggs with theatrical flair... until he got to the baking soda.

"This the salt?" he asked, holding up a small jar.

Ciela looked up too late. "Wulfrin, wait, that-"

But he’d already dumped it in.

Twenty minutes later, the cookies emerged from the oven looking perfect: golden, crisp-edged, slightly chewy. Then Ciela took a bite. She paused. Chewed. Blinked.

Wulfrin bit into his with a proud smile, only to freeze. "Why does it taste like dish soap?"

Ciela laughed so hard she had to lean against the counter. "You used baking soda! That wasn’t salt, that was baking soda!"

Wulfrin coughed and reached for water, eyes wide. "Is this what betrayal tastes like?"

"This," Ciela grinned, wiping tears from her eyes and holding up his cookie, "is why you stick to swordplay."

Despite the tragic batch, Wulfrin stuck around to help with packaging and cleaning. He even managed not to knock over the bag of flour this time.

Later, as they sat on the deck with tea and successful pastries, Ciela leaned on his shoulder. "You’re welcome back in the kitchen anytime," she teased.

Wulfrin smirked. "Even if I poison the customers?"

"Only a little."

The lake shimmered before them, and the bakery stood strong behind them. Even the worst cookies couldn't ruin a day like this.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 336

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A few days later...

The morning started with a soft drizzle, casting little beads of rain across the windows of Fondante's Inferno. Inside, the warmth of the ovens fought back the chill, wrapping the bakery in a cozy glow. Ciela hummed softly as she kneaded dough for her newest creation: raspberry honey sticky buns. Perlita watched her from atop a flour sack, chirping every so often as if critiquing her technique.

The bell above the door jingled. A young player in a green cloak stepped in, shaking off the rain and looking around with wide eyes. "Is this...the place with the famous tins?"

Ciela wiped her hands on a towel and offered a gentle smile. "Sure is. Filled with pastries fresh out of the oven, if you’re lucky."

She nodded shyly and took a seat near the window, ordering a hot tea and two of the raspberry buns. As she ate, her whole expression softened. "I’ve been on Floor 29 for weeks. I forgot what it was like to just... feel safe."

Ciela didn’t say much. She just topped off her tea and slid over a third bun, on the house.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 191

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

Later that day...

By midday, the rain had cleared, leaving behind the crisp scent of wet earth and sweet flowers. A group of children wandered in, clearly lost, judging by their mismatched armor and confused demeanor.

Ciela welcomed them with little sample trays and patient explanations of each pastry. When one tried to hand her some random items for a cupcake, she smiled. "Don't worry about it sweetie. The first one is free."

They lit up. One girl offered to sweep in exchange. Another promised to return with herbs from her gathering quests. The bakery pulsed with new life. It was messy, chaotic, and beautiful.

Perlita, meanwhile, had found a new game: sneaking up behind seated guests and plucking small decorative trinkets from their belts or backpacks, then hiding them beneath a napkin or cushion like some mischievous treasure goblin.

Laughter echoed off the wooden beams as a boy searched for his missing charm only to find it under his seat. Ciela caught his bewildered look and offered a wink. "Watch your gear. This bakery has a few sneaky little otterly surprising secrets."

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 183

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

Even later the same day...

The bakery began to settle as the sun dipped low. A golden haze lit up the lake through the back windows, catching the floating pollen in the air like fireflies. Ciela leaned against the counter, tired but satisfied. Her hands were still dusted in flour, her apron creased with the effort of the day.

She stepped outside onto the covered deck with a mug of steaming tea. Perlita sat curled in a ball on one of the chairs, belly full and snoring softly.

Across the water, nestled near the trees, a rhythmic clang rang out. Ciela smiled.

From the deck of the bakery, she saw him, Wulfrin, at his forge, hammering away with purpose. Sparks flew with every strike, and even from this distance, the sound carried. It was strong. Reassuring.

She sipped her tea, watching the last of the sun’s light creep below the horizon of Floor 22.

This was home. It didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be theirs.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 169

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A week later...

The lakeside settlement of Coral on Floor 22 buzzed with life that morning. Banners flapped in the breeze, colorful boats lined the docks, and a long stretch of wooden tables stood filled with fishing rods, baskets, and barrels ready for the day's catch. It was the annual Coral Fishing Festival, and Ciela had come prepared.

She arrived early, Wulfrin at her side, hauling a large box packed with her signature pink tins. Inside each tin was an assortment of lakeside-themed treats: smoked trout quiches, lemon poppy seed muffins shaped like fish, hand-decorated cookies that shimmered with a sugar glaze mimicking scales, and iced teas infused with floor-grown berries. Perlita scurried along beside them, already eyeing the docks like she planned to dive in herself.

"Alright, honey," Ciela grinned as they found a stall to set up their treats. "You're on fish duty. I'm on charm duty."

Wulfrin gave her a mock salute, adjusting his fishing gear. He was determined to win the event’s top prize: a rare decorative mount and a hefty XP boost.

The event began with a blast from a conch shell. Players from across multiple floors lined the piers, rods in hand, hooks baited, eyes scanning the water with anticipation. Laughter and friendly trash talk filled the air.

Ciela passed out tins to the competitors, her presence a warm balm in the early excitement. Many of them knew her from her bakery. One child beamed up at her as he bit into a muffin. "I’m gonna catch a fish as big as Perlita!"

Perlita, insulted, huffed and dove into the lake with a splash.

Hours passed in the sun-drenched serenity of Coral. Ciela enjoyed every second, chatting with the festival-goers, refilling iced drinks, watching the ripple of fishing lines across the sparkling lake. Wulfrin was focused but relaxed, occasionally glancing her way with a half-smile.

Then came the final horn. A hush fell as the announcer began the weigh-ins. Fish after fish was logged and measured. Some were tiny, others impressively long, but none compared to the behemoth Wulfrin pulled from his bucket.

“Eighteen pounds,” the announcer read. “The biggest catch of the day!”

Cheers erupted. Ciela let out a triumphant whoop, throwing her arms around Wulfrin as he returned to the booth.

"I told you that you had it in the bag," she said, kissing his cheek. He chuckled.

They watched the sunset together from the pier as the festival slowly wound down. The sky bled pink and orange into the lake, and the lights from the village cast soft glows onto the water.

"Same time, same place, next year?" Wulfrin asked.

Ciela grinned. "Only if you promise to let me catch the biggest one next time."

Perlita, soaking wet and smug, dropped a small silver fish at Ciela’s feet.

"Looks like you’ve got some competition," Wulfrin laughed.

The three of them stood by the lake, wrapped in warmth, food, and love. Another memory made, sweet and steady like the heartbeat of home.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 500

 

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela

[KnightessCiela 0]

A few days later...

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft amber glow over the lake. Ciela stood on the deck of Fondante's Inferno, wiping down the last of the outdoor tables. A light breeze tousled her red hair, and Perlita napped beside a flower pot.

The tranquility shattered with the sudden metallic clank of boots.

Three figures in dark armor approached the bakery from the woods. At their head was Varris, his orange cursor casting an ominous glow in the encroaching dusk. Behind him, two other Crimson Fang members flanked him with arrogant smirks.

Ciela’s hand instinctively brushed the rolling pin on the prep counter behind her.

"Evening, sweetheart," Varris drawled, stepping onto the deck without invitation. "Thought we'd come back for that chat you cut short last time."

"If you’re here for more threats, you can turn around," Ciela said coldly.

Varris chuckled. "Not threats, doll. Just terms. You're in our territory, and you’re raking in coin. It’s only fair you share. Or we share it for you."

One of his goons kicked over a flower pot.

Before Ciela could speak, a blade whistled through the air and embedded in the wood at Varris’s feet.

Wulfrin stepped from the treeline, eyes gleaming with fury.

"Last warning," he said, voice low. "Step away from the deck."

Varris sneered but held up his hands. "Relax, lover boy. We’re just talking."

"Try talking one more time and you’ll be eating those words."

Wulfrin advanced slowly, every step deliberate. Ciela felt her breath catch. Tension electrified the air.

Varris spat on the ground. "This ain’t over. We’ll be back. And next time, we won’t knock."

With that, he turned and stalked off, his men reluctantly following.

Silence returned, but the damage was done. The tension lingered like smoke.

Ciela sank into a chair. Wulfrin crouched beside her, gently taking her hand.

"We’ll protect this place," he said. "They won’t break what you’ve built."

Ciela nodded, her resolve hardening. "Then we’ll be ready."

 

The next morning, the bakery buzzed with purpose. Wulfrin had enlisted the help of a few trusted players to reinforce the area: a better alarm system for the rear path, and even a few camouflaged traps along the tree line.

Ciela handled it all with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Her apron was dusted in cocoa powder, and her latest batch of brownies was baking while she worked.

Freyd appeared mid-morning, calm as ever. "Heard you had visitors."

"Uninvited ones," Wulfrin muttered, while setting up a camouflaged trap.

"The Crimson Fangs won’t stop until someone stops them," Freyd said quietly. "They’re escalating."

Ciela nodded. "Let them come. I’ve got cinnamon rolls and an arsenal."

Perlita chirped in approval, dragging a pouch of cayenne pepper powder across the floor like a prize.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, save for a few curious customers peeking at the newly reinforced exterior. Ciela handed out extra treats, as if sugar could mask the tension.

But that night, as the stars returned and the brownies cooled on the rack, Ciela stood with Wulfrin at the edge of the deck.

Together, they watched the woods. Silent. Waiting.

* * *

Spoiler

Word Count: 530

* * *

 

Thread Closure:

Word Count EXP: 7540/10=754 * 1 * 3 = 2262
Pages Col (PC): 400 * page (20 Posts) count 

<<PLAYER>> receives the following:
Tier: Player’s True Tier
EXP: [754 * 3] + [600 (Yui's Grace)] = 2,862 EXP
Col: 400

Edited 5 hours ago by KnightessCiela