Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 28: The Great Shedding

Four hours in a snake nest felt like four years.

Ren lay still, staring at the ceiling of the cavern. The heat radiating off Syris was incredible. He was no longer a human popsicle; he was a human radiator set to ’High’.

The jasmine oil she had applied earlier had soaked in, leaving his skin tacky and smelling like a perfumery.

"Syris," Ren whispered. "Are you awake? My left leg is asleep. It has pins and needles."

"Pins?" Syris mumbled, his face buried in the red puffer coat. "Why do you have sharp things in your leg? Take them out."

"It’s a figure of speech, you noodle. It means I need to move."

Syris grumbled, but he loosened his grip slightly.

He sat up.

Ren blinked. The change was startling. The patches of skin she had oiled on his back and chest had peeled away completely, revealing fresh, pristine scales that looked like polished obsidian. But his lower half—specifically where his legs merged into the massive tail form he favored for sleeping—was looking rough.

The old skin there was gray, dry, and tight.

Syris hissed, reaching back to scratch at his hip. "Itch. The fire-food worked on the core, but the tail... it burns."

He looked at Ren with wide, desperate eyes. The arrogance of the King was gone; in its place was a creature in discomfort.

"Help me," Syris commanded, but it sounded like a plea. "The old shell... it is stuck. If I pull it, I bleed."

[System Quest: Spa Day - Part 2.] [Objective: Assist the Snake King with a full body shed. Do not rip the new skin.] [Tool Unlocked: ’Micro-Fiber Exfoliating Mitt’ (Pink).]

A bright pink, fuzzy glove materialized in Ren’s hand.

"What is this?" Syris stared at the glove. "It looks like the tongue of a sick flamingo."

"It’s an Exfoliating Mitt," Ren explained, sliding her hand into it. "It grabs the dead skin gently. Now, stop scratching or you’ll get an infection. Turn over."

Syris obeyed instantly. He sprawled on his stomach, extending his legs which slowly shifted, merging into a long, thick black tail that trailed off the edge of the bed.

Ren swallowed. ’Okay. Just imagine it’s a very large, very scaly cucumber.’

She began to scrub.

She started at his hips, using circular motions. The pink mitt caught the flaky gray skin.

Syris let out a sound that was half-hiss, half-moan. His fingers dug into the fur bedding.

"Oh..." he shuddered. "That... yes. The friction."

"Is that okay?" Ren asked, working her way down. "Not too hard?"

"Harder," Syris gasped. "Tear it off. I want to be new."

Ren worked diligently. There was something oddly satisfying about it—like peeling dried glue off your hands, but on a massive scale. As the gray husk fell away, the new scales underneath were breathtaking. They shimmered with iridescence—purple, blue, and black.

"You’re actually very pretty underneath all this dust," Ren murmured, mostly to herself, peeling a large strip off his thigh.

Syris went still. He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.

"Pretty?" he repeated. "Males are not pretty. Males are terrifying. Males are strong."

"You can be terrifying and pretty," Ren shrugged, moving to the sensitive area near the base of his tail. "It’s called being a ’Femme Fatale’. Or in your case, a ’Homme Fatale’."

"I do not know these words," Syris whispered, watching her face intently. "But... Kael. Does he peel you?"

Ren laughed. "Humans don’t shed, Syris. We just exfoliate. Wash the dead dust off with water."

Syris frowned. "That sounds inefficient. You keep the same skin forever? It must get boring."

He shifted, turning fully onto his side so he could watch her work. He reached out, his warm hand capturing a lock of her red hair.

"Why do you stay with the Tiger?" Syris asked. It wasn’t a taunt this time. It was genuine curiosity. "He is loud. He sleeps in the dirt. He smells like wet dog. I offer you stone. I offer you silk."

He gestured to the palace walls.

"I offer you heat. You like the heat. I feel you leaning into me when you sleep."

Ren paused, her pink mitt hovering over his scales.

"Kael found me," Ren said softly. "I fell from the sky. He didn’t eat me. He protected me."

"I would have caught you," Syris said immediately. "I would have coiled around you so you did not hit the ground. Snakes are soft when we want to be."

He leaned in, his amethyst eyes glowing.

"Kael is a brute. He thinks with his claws. I think with my blood. I knew you were valuable the moment I tasted the fire-soup. I did not need to be told."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Stay, Little Chef. Forget the wooden box. Be the Queen of the Swamp. I will let you cook whatever you want. I will eat the... quacking birds. I will eat the mud-spiders. I will even try the green leaves if you command it."

Ren looked at him. He was offering her the world. A cold, damp, reptile-filled world, but a kingdom nonetheless. And he was trying. In his own twisted, kidnapping way, he was trying to court her.

"Syris," Ren said gently, pulling his hand away from her face. "You kidnapped me. That’s usually a deal-breaker in my culture. We call it a ’Red Flag’."

"Red Flag?" Syris looked at her red puffer coat. "Like your shell?"

"No. It means... danger. Bad idea."

"I am danger," Syris agreed, misunderstanding completely. "I am the most dangerous thing in the wetlands. That is why you are safe here. No Shadow Beast can breach the Onyx Gates."

He sat up, the shedding complete. He looked magnificent. His skin was glowing, his muscles defined, his eyes bright. He looked reborn.

"You have cleared the itch," Syris announced, flexing his shoulders. "I feel... light. Fast."

He looked at Ren’s stomach. It growled loudly.

Syris blinked. "The noise. You are empty?"

"Yes," Ren sighed, tossing the pink mitt aside. "I fed you, but I haven’t eaten since yesterday. And no, I will not eat a raw eel."

Syris stood up. He walked to a large obsidian chest in the corner of the room. He opened it.

"I have treasures," Syris said. "From the trade ships."

He pulled out a small, sealed jar.

"This," he held it up. "The traders call it ’Sweet-Gold’. It comes from the stinging flies."

Ren squinted. "Stinging flies? You mean bees? Is that honey?"

Syris nodded. "And this." He pulled out a sack. "Crushed dust from the white-stalks."

"Flour?" Ren gasped. "You have flour?"

"It is powder. It makes paste. We use it to seal the walls."

"You use flour to seal walls?" Ren looked horrified. "That is a crime against baking! Give me that!"

She jumped off the bed, snatching the sack and the jar.

"Do you have eggs?" Ren demanded. "Bird eggs? Snake eggs? Any egg?"

"There are waterfowl nests on the roof," Syris said. "Viper!"

The doors opened. The guard poked his head in. "King?"

"Go to the roof," Syris ordered. "Steal the eggs of the Quacker. Bring them to the female. Do not break them."

"Yes, King."

Syris turned back to Ren. He looked at her holding the flour like it was gold. A small, genuine smile touched his lips.

"Make the food," Syris said softly. "Feed yourself. And then... feed me. The heat from the duck is fading. I need more."

Ren rolled her eyes, but she was already mentally planning pancakes.

"Fine. Pancakes. But you have to wear pants while you eat them."

"I make no promises," Syris purred, settling back into his nest to watch her work. "But for the pancakes... I might consider a loincloth."

[System Notification: Relationship Status Updated.] [Syris: ’Fascinated’. Bond Level: 15%.] [Note: He is no longer looking at you as a heater. He is looking at you as a Mate.]

Ren ignored the notification. She had flour. She had honey. She was going to make the best damn pancakes the Beast World had ever seen.

And if she had to use a naked Snake King as a taste tester... well, there were worse jobs in the world.