Their disgusting black blood splattered the ground, and Jean's boots and fists, making it clear that she had made it personal. “Weak! I thought you liked this? ... Oh, come on? Wasn't that what you were going to do to me?” Jean put her hand to her ear listening to their plaintive moans. “You wouldn't?! I’m being very impatient then! You would have given me a week of your time, but... Well! Intensity or duration! You can't have them both!”

Their screams of pain eventually ceased. Ilya showed no sign of life; Jean did not miss her. She wanted to be alone to enjoy the reward of devouring them. She annihilated every form of life in the cave, including cockroaches, moles and rats.

[You have gathered a lot of new genetic information. After combining it with the material you have already obtained, you have created the following skills:]

[You have learned Nimireth’s Rage — Basic Rank. Unique skill.

Consume moderate amounts of mana to temporarily increase one attribute by +5. (It will depend on the effect added.) Multiple attributes can be increased by applying more effects, but the consumption will increase drastically. With at least three active effects, it also increases your pain resistance.]

[You have learned Flare — Basic Rank.

You can create a tiny, but fast fire projectile. It’s incendiary and admits effects.]

[Devourer Barrier has increased to Advanced Rank. Unique skill.

The barrier is twice as effective now.]

[Pain Resistance has increased to Advanced Rank. Unique skill.

Increase your capacity to withstand pain. The base value is 2% of the sum of your attributes. Additionally, it increases by 1% per player level. Current value, 17,14%.

[Nimireth’s Toughness has increased to Advanced Rank. Unique skill.

You gain +1 extra Toughness for every 9 points you have in the attribute.]

[Disease Resistance has increased to Advanced Rank. Unique skill.

Allows you to neutralize the effects of diseases and other magical afflictions. The base value is 20% of your base Resistance. Additionally, it increases by 1% per player level. Current value, 19%.]

“Flare!? … Let’s try it out!”

A slight concentration of mana was all it took for a tiny sphere of fire to appear fluttering on her palm, ready to launch off with a single thought. Jean aimed at the walls of the cavern. The illumination was meager, burning for no more than ten seconds. She cast three more at once. The result was the same, they were too unstable. Perhaps in places where the environment was more flammable... “I'm sure I'll find more use for it when it improves and I can add advanced effects."

On the way out, Ilya wasn't there. “It was easier to get rid of her than I thought!”

However, the joy didn't last. Moments later, Ilya unraveled her invisibility in the distance. “You can handle yourself pretty well. I'm still not used to fighting alone, you know?”

Jean moved forward while ordering the whispers to buy more remedies. This time, Ilya stepped back without glaring at her. What was with that exaggerated change of attitude?

“I was in a large group. We were eleven. I made good friends there. Everyone had a role, and we shared the experience and the pay equally. Then... things got ugly and everything went wrong.”

Jean kept leading the pace. “What happened? Did they have their hands as long as you?”

The young woman frowned. “We did what we had to survive. It wasn't always pleasant... You talk as if you didn't get your hands dirty a few minutes ago! I've seen you! You're nuts!”

Upset, Jean hurried her pace. “Yeah, yeah! How do you manage to disappear like that?”

Ilya laughed. “To you of all people... Absolutely!”

After carefully descending the 20 meters of steep drop, the path widened again. She didn't have to walk far to start hearing voices in the distance again. Jean readied her weapons in expectation of more goblins until she realized she could understand them. They were human, more exactly, men.

Both stopped and hid for a while. The men neither came closer nor moved away. Jean checked the arrows on the map again; they unmistakably indicated that she had to go in that direction. Should she look for a detour? That theory fell apart when she realized that the path ended abruptly in a hole in the wall, leading to a lower-level room where some of the ceiling voussoirs had collapsed into the room itself.

Jean decided to approach a little hidden under Chameleon's cloak. She didn't peek out, since the men had torches and the invisibility lost effectiveness with so much light.

“Your Highness, we have to go! This is not a good place to protect you, sir.”

“I've already told you, I'm not leaving! She'll show up! She promised me!”

“But, your Highness! You are in great danger!”

She imbued Chameleon with Perception to take a little peek. There were a total of six men. One wore a hood hiding his face, but his old and dignified voice betrayed his royal origins. The others were younger, wearing the same guard's outfit as those she had previously encountered.

They were close to a wall, surrounding the king to protect him from any possible threat. And it was not an easy task, multiple corridors converge at the specific point where they were talking. A labyrinth that surely served to mislead those pursuing them. The complexity of the escape route was breathtaking, but the perplexity came when Identify recognized him as Uthell, the guy she had to find and kill.

Jean looked back furiously, but Ilya was nowhere to be seen. “Fucking bitch!”

“Your Highness, listen to reason! Your sons have been killed! It's only a matter of time before they come after you too!”

“I said no! I will wait for her! The Goddess promised me I would find her here. She promised me she would save us! She promised me!!”

The guards whispered among themselves. That made the king furious. “I am not hallucinating nor am I senile! She is real!”

“Your Highness, that dream you're always talking about, it can't be true! It's just a recurring dream!”

“It's not a dream, dammit! It's a vision of the Goddess of the Night herself. She offered it to me after I... That doesn't matter now! She said that the one who would save us from the end would arrive here today!”

“Wait a minute! That's the reason you chose this route?! Dammit, your Highness! You have put yourself in terrible danger! We’re leaving!”

The king stamped his foot firmly on the ground and even drew his sword. “I said, NO!”

Two guards retreated and began to plan with the rest to change their route.

Uthell just kept repeating the same phrases over and over again. As if it was burned into his mind. “She will come! My guardian angel will come. My red-haired, purple-eyed warrior will come! Jean will come! ... JEAN, JEAN!”

“Keep your voice down, please! No one is coming!”

When Jean heard her name for the fourth time, she felt a shiver. She stepped back and unraveled the invisibility. She opened the map one last time and checked the mission arrows. They all pointed to the king. “This can't be real!”

The whispers reminded her that she could only return after fulfilling what they asked her to do. She must kill Uthell if she wanted to continue recovering Nimireth's essence. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to return. Not without becoming a Guardian of the Nine.

“And how will they know I killed the target?”

Whispers reminded her that the incursion consisted of 12 members, possibly each with a target. “That’s more than enough to take care of all the sons of a king, but... What do they have against him? Is that old man a bad person?”

The whispers remained silent, which infuriated her. Jean needed to know why they wanted to kill a king and his sons. None of the options she could think of differ from political interests or the nepotism of a dictator.

“If he were a monster to his people, would it be easier?” How could she find out without making a mistake? She peeked out again. Something caught Jean's attention from one of the guards. The only bodyguard who wasn't neutral towards her. A guy whose face looked all too familiar.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

»Human Player«

Alignment: Hostile

Level: ???

Highest Attribute (Strength): ???

Name: Ian

Skills: [Dark Shroud], [Harvest]

Marks: [Killer], [Thief]

Details: The attributes of this individual make him an impossible adversary to defeat.

She watched him for quite a while. He was by far the most powerful, but that was not what caught her attention so much. His face was familiar and she couldn't remember from where. When he turned his face towards her, she knew for sure that she knew him.

Jean retreated several steps back into the safety of the darkness and fervently tried to remember where she knew him from. She hated feeling dizzy again. Predicting that she would fall into a trance again, she lay down silently.

She was back on Earth, in her not longed-for life as a hypermarket clerk. She was leaving the changing rooms on her way to the cash registers. In the distance, someone was waiting for her. The manager. A short-tempered orc from Mordor who showered people in saliva and food while speaking. There was even a bet among the workers as to when that huge vein in his forehead would burst.

“JEAN!!”

“On my way, Mr. Dawson!”

“Where the heck were you?”

Jean's body stiffened. She wanted to yell at him that it was ten minutes until her shift started, but that was Jean's problem at the time. It had been years since she had set limits and everyone had gotten used to walking all over her.

From trying to suffocate the obvious frustration came the overweight from dinners of popcorn and ice cream with cookies and nuts. All seasoned with some action movie, decent anime, fun series or game. The perfect plan for weirdos according to her annoying little sister. She didn't see herself that way though.

As best she could, Jean hid her resentment behind a smile. "Which cash register will I be working at today, Mr Dawson?”

“No, no, no! Grab a mop and go to aisle 5! Some stupid kid threw up his damn breakfast there.”

“Delightful, can't be someone else? It always has to be me!”

“What's with the shit face?! Move!! Then go to number 16!”

“Fucking orc!”

At a fast pace, she made her way to the warehouse. She crossed the aisles without looking at anything or anyone. With each step, her stomach churned more and more. It made her so sick to imagine the mop rolling around in the kid's damn breakfast, that she didn't even notice that a shopping cart, filled to overflowing, was approaching like a bus without brakes. It hit her from the right, and despite her efforts to keep her balance, she found herself kissing the floor. She fell onto her left hand, making a disturbing crunch.

A manly voice that sounded like Thor's startled her. “Sorry! Are you okay?!”

Pretending to be fine, she grabbed her wrist and tried to stand up. After almost kissing the ground two more times, she clumsily managed to stand up on her third attempt.

Red with shame. “Y-yes, yes! Don't worry!”

When Jean mustered the courage to look at him, her breath caught in her throat. He looked distracted and restless, but that wasn't what caught her attention. He was as tall as a mountain. Muscular. Dark hair. Eyes? She didn't know, he wore a cap that hid them. She pictured them as amber-colored though. Overall, he looked like Henry Cavill in Man of Steel, except for the black hair that reached down to the middle of his back.

“Sorry! I was looking for... Shit, who cares! I'm in a hurry and the shopping cart did the rest. Are you sure you're okay?”

Jean stared at him and then lowered her gaze. She had never been so close to a man who could easily be on the cover of Men's Health. Before she knew it, she was already looking at his privates. So desperate was she back then?

“Ahem! Yes, yes! Don't worry! Keep going!”

The man could barely keep a smile from appearing on his face. He seemed to enjoy the situation. “Shall I be your escort? Someone should take a look at that wrist. It doesn't look good at all!"

About to explode with shame. “Huh?! No, no! I'm fine, really!”

“Jean! What the fuck is going on?”

When she turned around, the manager was a few steps away. It was as if he could teleport. Always ready to humiliate her.

Dawson looked at the tall man, trying to hide his short temper. "Excuse her! She's a clumsy good-for-nothing who should be cleaning aisle 5! Try not to go there for now! Sorry for the inconvenience!"

The man gave him an icy stare. He went from looking like Clark Kent to Guts on a bad day.

“Repeat that shit you said!”

Dawson was shocked. “Excuse me, sir?!”

“Your parents must have treated you like shit your whole life! Huh, asshole? I've met a lot of people like you! People who think that a higher position makes them superior to others! Maybe someone should teach you a lesson!”

The tall man slowly pushed the shopping cart in Dawson's direction. “Pray that someone isn't me, you piece of shit!"

He got very close to the manager and whispered something in his ear. Something that Jean couldn't hear. Then, he took the pen from Dawson's shirt pocket and approached Jean. She didn't offer the slightest resistance as he took her right hand and wrote a number on her palm.

“Like I said, I'm in a hurry! I'm in the business of... solving problems! You know what I mean. If one day something bothers you too much, call and ask for Ian. I'll give you a good price!”

Slowly, he returned the pen back to where he had picked it up. Then, he left just as he had come. In a hurry to the chemical aisle. Seeing the large plastic laundry tubs on the shopping cart, Jean couldn't help but imagine that he was looking for something to dissolve a body with, Breaking Bad style.

For a moment, she wished she could be like him. Not because she wanted to dissolve her manager, her little sister, or many of her co-workers. Well... maybe a little. She just wanted to be like him because of the arrogance, the courage and the confidence that she had once let die within her.

Jean sighed deeply and stared into the past. What did she have now? Shyness? Clumsiness? Tendency to gain weight? Big breasts? The latter was worthless if it came with the complete package.

As she regained her composure, her eyes met Dawson's for a brief moment. Long enough to see him pale and drenched in sweat.

“C-can you p-please hurry up? C-customers are c-complaining about the smell!"”

“Yes, Mr. Dawson!”

“Thanks, Jean! And... s-sorry for what I said!”

“When?! Every day before this one, or this one in particular?!”

Jean didn't say anything, but if he thought an apology solved everything, he was high. Afraid that he could read her expression, she lowered her head and hurried to the warehouse.

Clutching her bruised wrist and sweating profusely, she looked alarmingly at the numbers on her hand. She had to write them down before they disappeared, but not in front of Dawson. She didn't want him to know about the crazy idea that had just popped into her head.

“I said no! I'm not moving until Jean shows up!”

The old man's stubbornness brought her back, leaving behind the last vestiges of the vision, but not the feeling of weakness and fear of her previous self. How could a simple kiss and an adjustment of attributes change her personality so much?

“Did I call him in the end? Did I muster up the courage to dial the number?”

Jean now understood which guy Nimireth was referring to during their conversation. The person who had awakened the old Jean from her slumber. “That's it! Ian, the neighbor's son. The one who one day disappeared without a trace. Damn! How couldn't I recognize him at the time? ... Did he remember me? That's why he helped me back then?”

Jean stood up as memories of the boy he once was flooded her mind. They had played together when they were little, but eventually they stopped talking to each other. He became a lonely boy always getting into trouble. “This is not the time to remember childhood memories. Focus!”

She wasn't the same as before, so expecting him to be the same as when they were kids was unrealistic. Even more so if he had survived to a level she couldn't see. He had probably killed hundreds or thousands.

It was time to analyze her alternatives. Either she played along with those who had dragged her into this and found out what all this succession of deceptions was about. Or she hid until the king left. How many remedies would she have to waste until they left? And if they didn't?

“I have no patience for this shit!”