The first thing I registered was the warmth. Not the gentle heat of the dying campfire embers, but something soft, firm, and pressed tightly against me. My shield arm felt trapped, pinned beneath a weight that was entirely too solid and yielding to be the hard ground.
I blinked, the grey light of dawn filtering through the tent fabric. My mind, still buzzing with phantom echoes of divine conversation and the unsettling feel of another world's dirt beneath my boots, struggled to catch up. Warmth… weight… why did it feel like I was buried under a particularly comfortable, fleshy avalanche?
Then, a sigh. Soft, feminine, and right next to my ear.
My eyes snapped open.
Two faces, close enough that I could feel their breath, were nestled against my chest. Long, dark hair spilled across my makeshift pillow. Limbs, slender and surprisingly strong, were wrapped around my torso and arm.
And these weren't the small, child-like faces I had seen fall asleep hours before.
My brain stalled. Raphtalia? Rifana? What the…?
They were… grown.
Not just a little. A lot. The child-like features were gone, replaced by the refined contours of young adulthood. Raphtalia, her face buried against my collarbone, had lost the roundedness of her cheeks; her profile was sharper, her lashes long against her skin. Rifana, curled against my other side, her head tucked under my chin, had a delicate jawline and brows that spoke of newfound maturity.
And the weight. The 'things' they had lacked yesterday were undeniably, prominently present now. Pressed firmly against my sides, testament to a sudden, startling transformation.
My mind, usually a fortress of cynicism, went completely blank. It wasn't shock. It wasn't even fear, not yet. It was just… buffering. Like a game trying to load an impossible texture file.
My gaze drifted downwards, taking in the sight of their clothing. The simple, slightly-too-large garments they had worn yesterday were stretched taut, fabric straining against curves that hadn't existed hours ago. Seams had split. Buttons had popped. Shoulders peeked out from torn necklines. It was... visually striking. Utterly absurd.
My only reaction was a profound, soul-deep exhaustion. And a surge of exasperation so potent it could curdle milk.
"Oh, are you kidding me?" I muttered, the words barely a whisper.
This. This was what happened with accelerated growth via slave crests combined with who-knows-what divine shenanigans I'd been subjected to? My brain couldn't even process the ramifications of this. It was too much, too fast, too game-breakingly ridiculous.
They stirred.
Raphtalia mumbled something into my chest, tightening her grip. Rifana sighed again, snuggling closer. They were acting like… like overgrown kittens who'd outgrown their basket overnight and hadn't realized it yet.
Okay. Okay. Pragmatism. Focus.
Problem 1: Two adult women who were children yesterday are clinging to me in torn clothes.
Problem 2: What in the name of all that is holy happened?
Problem 3: Clothes. We need clothes. Immediately. Before anyone sees this.
Problem 4: Filo. Where's the giant bird?
As if summoned by my thought, a rustle came from the other side of the tent. A shape shifted, rose, and stretched.
Filo.
She stood up fully, bumping her head on the tent ceiling. Her final transformation was complete. No longer a bird-child, but a fully-grown human adult.
She looked around twenty years old, just like Raphtalia and Rifana. Long, flowing blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and an outfit that was… thankfully not as torn as the girls', but still clearly designed for her Filolial form, meaning it left very little to the imagination on her humanoid one. She had a wide, cheerful smile on her face.
"Master!" Filo chirped, her voice now a clear, melodic sound. She bounded over, moving with impossible speed, and wrapped her arms around me and the two girls.
Now I was truly buried. Beneath a heap of adult-sized companions who were yesterday children/a bird. In a ripped tent. Wearing child-sized clothes.
This was peak Shield Hero. Utter chaos.
"Okay! Okay! Everyone! Stop! Let go!" I managed, trying to disentangle myself from the affectionate, and frankly overwhelming, pile.
They blinked up at me, confusion in their eyes.
"Master?" Raphtalia asked, her voice deeper, richer than I'd ever heard it. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?!" I half-snapped, half-sighed. "Look at yourselves! Look at your clothes! Look at this tent! What happened?!"
They looked down. Their eyes widened. A flush spread across their faces as they registered their torn clothing and their suddenly adult bodies.
"Ah! My… my clothes!" Raphtalia yelped, instinctively trying to cover herself with rapidly shrinking scraps of fabric.
"They… they don't fit!" Rifana stammered, equally mortified.
Filo, meanwhile, just tilted her head, looking between us. "Did Master not like the growth? Filo thought Master wanted everyone to be big and strong!" She chirped, still sounding absurdly cheerful despite the bizarre context.
"Growth is one thing!" I groaned, finally managing to push myself up to a sitting position, dislodging a grown woman from each side and a Filolial Queen from on top. "Going from seven to twenty overnight and shredding your wardrobe is another! This isn't 'growth,' this is… this is a divine prank! That damn God!"
My frustration was boiling over. Just when I thought I had a handle on the convoluted game mechanics, the universe decided to add forced, spontaneous puberty and a sudden wardrobe malfunction for everyone involved.
Raphtalia and Rifana huddled together, trying to make their torn clothes cover them. Filo, still looking unfazed, transformed back into her massive bird form with a flash of light, her massive wingspan threatening to demolish the tent completely.
"Okay, new plan!" I announced, running a hand over my face. This was going to be a long day. "Filo, stay in your bird form and guard the camp. Raphtalia, Rifana, try to salvage what you can of your clothes, wrap yourselves in blankets, anything. We need to get to town and get you proper gear before the sun's fully up and anyone sees this mess!"
Their transformation, while physically 'attractive' in the conventional sense, was completely horrifying and inconvenient in my reality. This wasn't a fantasy wish fulfillment; it was a tactical nightmare. Suddenly, my two child companions were adult women who barely had clothes on, and we were camping just outside a major town. This was a recipe for disaster, slander, and probably an immediate confrontation with the local guard.
"Master… where do we get clothes?" Raphtalia asked, her voice small despite her grown-up form.
"The slave trader," I replied, already calculating the minimal amount of interaction needed. Beloukas had seen them yesterday. He knew they were my 'companions'. He could sell us gear without asking too many questions. Hopefully.
The sheer absurdity of the situation, however, was undeniable. Me, the Shield Hero, publicly framed for attempted anything-unto-demi-humans, walking into a slave trader's shop at dawn with two suddenly-adult, half-dressed former child companions and a giant bird. You couldn't write this stuff. Or rather, apparently, some divine being could write this stuff. Just to mess with me.
"Let's move!" I urged, already gathering our limited supplies. The grim necessity of our methods, the shock of their sudden transformation, and the sheer, unadulterated inconvenience of it all mixed into a potent cocktail of pure Shield Hero experience.