Surviving The Beast World With My 'Sassy' System-Chapter 30: Out Of This World

’It seems he’s waking up,’ she told Nessa, settling the baby more securely against her.

’Yes, his brain is back in activity,’ Nessa responded.

The baby cooed at that exact moment, his miniature fists stretching and flexing as though testing the air, his eyelids fluttering before slowly lifting in a drowsy attempt to take in the world. He blinked up at her in a fog of confusion.

"You are awake, hmm?" she whispered with a gentle smile, leaning in to smoosh his cheek with a soft kiss. He rewarded her with a barely formed babble—more sound than word—and she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her.

But the sound of her own amusement jolted her back to awareness. She froze, scanning her surroundings to make sure none of the beastmen around them had woken up from her noise. When she confirmed that everyone remained asleep, she let out a slow, relieved breath and returned her focus to the baby, who had dropped his gaze to her shirt and begun absentmindedly patting it.

"Hey, let me finish my food and then I will clean you up and feed you, okay?" she said, her voice slipping into a coaxing softness. Once again she picked up her spoon, wanting to finish the cooling broth as quickly as she could.

...

A little while later, with her meal finally finished and the baby blinking in slow, heavy intervals, she shifted him onto the mini blanket she’d spread between her legs. The fabric created a cushioned little nest for him, and she leaned forward, keeping her voice low as she muttered, "Let’s get you cleaned up."

Beside her sat a neatly arranged pack of hypoallergenic, fragrance-free, alcohol-free wipes with high water content—even though he was a beastbaby, he was still a baby to Lavayla, and she wanted to give him the best.

She opened the pack while he lay there watching her with hazy curiosity, his small feet making faint, lazy kicks against the blanket, as though testing whether he had the energy to protest the incoming cleanup.

Then she took off his clothing, packed his diaper into a nylon bag, and tossed it into her space vault. The baby shivered lightly at the change in temperature, his little legs curling up toward his belly. She soothed him with a gentle stroke down his thigh, murmuring, "I know, I know... just for a moment."

She pulled a wipe from the packet, the cool moisture gathering on her fingertips. She cleaned him slowly and thoroughly. He squirmed once, a little huff of discomfort escaping him, but then relaxed again—trusting her even in half-wakefulness.

When she finished wiping him down, she checked every crease, every tiny fold of skin, making sure no spot was missed. Then she reached for another wipe, warming it briefly between her palms before continuing. His small hands fumbled clumsily in the air, grasping at nothing, and she chuckled under her breath.

"There you go... almost done," she whispered, even though he likely didn’t understand a word.

Once he was clean, she reached for the fresh diaper she’d placed beside her earlier and lifted his hips, sliding it underneath. He let out a tiny grunt—more offended than upset—which made her grin as she secured the sides snugly. Then she dressed him in the previous onesie.

When she was done, she fed him, after which he gave a sleepy coo, eyes half-lidded as he watched her. She smiled, cleared everything into her space vault, and lay down, adjusting him against her chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

"Alright," she murmured, brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "go to sleep."

•

Miren and Eiran were the ones guarding the entrance, while Dak and Vors patrolled the surrounding area. Eiran had managed to stay awake for three hours before his eyelids began drooping in slow, stubborn blinks. Miren saw it happening, of course—Eiran’s head dipping lower and lower, the boy jerking upright each time he caught himself—but he didn’t wake him. The kid was exhausted. Everyone was exhausted. And Miren understood all too well that Dark would never give him that kind of mercy, but he’d allow Eiran to rest even if it was technically still his watch.

So Miren stayed up instead, posture rigid, ears tuned to the dark outside the hollow. He pushed past the burn in his eyes and the weight in his limbs, forcing himself to stay alert. Time stretched on in slow, dragging increments as he strained to catch even the faintest hint of danger—predators, intruders, anything.

That was why, when the barest whisper of movement reached him—so faint it almost blended into the crackle of cooling stone—he caught it instantly. It wasn’t a predator. It wasn’t an intruder.

A soft, quiet exhale. The shift of fabric. A hushed, human murmur.

Wondering who was the one who had woken. Miren glanced over his shoulder, peering into the dim interior to check the others—they all were sprawled in heavy sleep.

But Miren’s brow creased. He leaned in, eyes narrowing as he focused deeper into the stone hollow. And then his entire expression cracked open in shock.

Miren saw her.

Lavayla—lying on her side, the baby curled around her, one arm draped above him as though shielding him. Her face held traces of worry, the softness of her features sharpened by exhaustion yet somehow gentle all the same. The baby was tucked securely against her chest, one small hand fisted loosely in the fabric of her shirt.

He went absolutely still, struck by a kind of awe. He had seen her earlier, of course—seen Ressha treating her, seen the strange human features that belonged more to legend than reality. But seeing her like this... warm, alive, cradling an infant with an expression so tender... that hit differently.

She looked less like the "fascinating human of old tales" and more like something delicate and important. Almost sacred.

Miren blinked, visibly flustered, and that was the moment Eiran’s head dipped forward and nearly toppled him sideways.

Miren reacted fast, throwing out an arm to catch him just before he hit the floor. He gave Eiran a small shake—gentle but firm enough to drag the boy back to consciousness.

Eiran blinked rapidly and looked up at him, dazed. "W-what?"

Miren pressed a finger to his lips, urging silence. Then, keeping his arm steady, he angled his head toward the hollow. When Eiran only frowned in confusion, Miren tried again, nudging repeatedly until the boy finally followed the silent cue.

The moment Eiran leaned just enough to see inside, Miren caught his head and pulled him back before he could gawk. Eiran’s eyes widened in question, and Miren mouthed, The human. She is awake.

Eiran froze. Then he twisted instinctively to look again, but Miren stopped him with a glare that practically said control yourself. Eiran nodded quickly, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

So they both stood there—two statues guarding a doorway—without speaking, breathing, or risking another pebble shifting beneath their feet. Only once they were sure the hollow had gone quiet again did they carefully turn to peek back inside.

Lavayla had already fallen asleep again, her breathing slow and even, the baby curled safely against her.

The two beastmen stared for a moment longer before turning back to face the dim light outside.

A slow grin spread across Eiran’s face, unable to contain itself. "She really looks like something out of this world," he whispered, the words slipping out on a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

Miren didn’t answer, but the faint softening of his eyes said he didn’t disagree.