Poking the Cotton

Despite his exhaustion and unhealed wounds, Kant maintained steady breathing while sprinting—a fundamental skill for a thief adept at speed and tactical retreats.
Erratic breathing meant a short escape…

His muscles were torn from strain, rendering Wind Spirit Moon Shadow unusable.
Yet, with Felicia holding the rear, Kant’s natural speed had already distanced him from the battlefield.

Feeling the tremors of combat and magic clashing behind him, Kant gritted his teeth, ignored the pain, and quickened his pace.

The princess’s sacrifice to buy him time was unexpected and humbling, but now wasn’t the time for sentiment.
With her risking her life, his only task was to escape.

His desperate sprint paid off.

At the end of the seemingly endless grassland, a silver-white starry portal appeared.
Its destination was unknown, but Kant was certain it was the exit Felicia mentioned.

Without hesitation, he plunged into the portal.

Thankfully, no hidden barriers awaited.

The moment he entered, his body felt weightless, as if falling into an unknown space…

…

…

“Ugh… did I… escape?”

Waking on a cold, smooth surface, Kant slowly opened his eyes.

Soft, holy light bathed his surroundings, like sunlight.

The ground beneath was like a tranquil lake, so reflective he could see his face.

Wait—did he look like this?

Peering into the mirror-like surface, Kant studied his reflection, confused.

Recalling his original appearance, he noticed his skin was paler, body hair—except eyebrows and head—gone.

Simply put, he looked… softer.

What was going on?
Did the elven sacred fruit come with whitening and hair-removal perks?

As he pondered, the calm mirror-like ground rippled.

Sensing the change, Kant looked up.

Seeing the figure before him, his expression shifted from confusion to clarity, then shock, and finally anger…

Sealed memories flooded back like a tide.

“You sneaky bastard, pulling this memory-sealing stunt again!”

Without thinking, crude words burst out.
Kant wanted to punch this Elven Ancestor God, but as a deity, she’d likely shrug it off, so he held back.

To be clear, this was mature restraint, not cowardice…

“Selina, you’re an elven princess.
Mind your status and stop spouting nonsense like before…”

Unlike their first meeting, where Themis appeared as a vast, radiant deity, she now stood human-sized, though her divine aura remained blinding.

“Ancestor God, you…”

Kant started to unleash more colorful hometown slang, but his voice shifted mid-sentence, becoming a soft, feminine tone.
His language morphed from “colorful” to elegant Elven, and his address for Themis was forcibly corrected to “Ancestor God.”

Then his perspective changed.
Once eye-level with Themis, he now stared at her abdomen.

His hair felt heavier; touching it, he found his short black hair replaced by sleek silver locks.

Feeling his ears—soft, pointed tips.
No doubt, he’d reverted to his elven form.

Tricked repeatedly, Selina glared at Themis’s divine face, trembling with rage.

But what could she do?

If it were Empress Karina, she might’ve thrown a tantrum, but this was a true god.

Provoking a god was like poking cotton—pointless.

Themis teasing her only resulted in… well, being teased.

Against her body’s ancestor, Selina was powerless.

Themis could alter her appearance, habits, and behavior with a word.

Getting mad was just asking for trouble.

Selina, a seasoned fifty-something in spirit, knew she had to stay calm and not act recklessly.

So…

“Themis, give me back my gender!”

A changed gender flipped her personality entirely.

The five-year-old elven second princess fearlessly charged forward, left hand on hip, right finger pointing at Themis, her delicate face full of indignation.

She could tolerate other things, but losing “Little Kant,” her companion of nearly fifty years, was worth fighting for!

“Our deal was never breached by me.
Why should I return your gender?”

Themis shook her head, her voice calm and even.

Seeing Themis play word games, acting righteous after scheming, Selina’s anger flared.

“I only agreed to be born an elf.
Who knew you’d mess with my gender for fun?”

Selina demanded coldly.

“Isn’t an elven princess still an elf?”

Themis countered expressionlessly.

Fine, playing dirty, huh?
If that’s how it was, what could she do?

Nothing.

A god could shamelessly deny their actions—what could a mortal do?
Fight her?

That’d be serving herself up on a platter.
Others might go strengthened; she’d just be a toy for this mischievous god to gift away.

With no options, Selina slumped to the ground, looking utterly defeated, hugging her knees like a wronged little girl.

If she couldn’t fight or enjoy it, she’d give up.
As the saying goes, if life offers no joy, rot freely—Rot God never rejects you.

“What are you squatting there for?”

“If you don’t fix my gender, I’m staying right here.”

Unable to reason, Selina resorted to stubbornness, mimicking Sun Wukong’s antics in the Heavenly Court from past-life memories.

“Selina, you know this is my divine realm.
Without divine status, staying too long will let my divinity assimilate or consume your consciousness.
You’d cease to be you…”

Themis shook her head, as if looking at a fool, then felt a weight on her leg.
Looking down, she saw the pitiful elven girl clinging to her, eyes teary.

“Ancestor God, I’m just a child, don’t do this~”

Her soft, trembling voice carried a plea.

Seeing Selina’s submissive act, a rare smile curved Themis’s stoic face.

Kids needed discipline to behave, after all.