“We have enough!” Pleasant Voice snarls in response.

Her shrill voice irritates, the irony of her name not lost on him. His thoughts turn quickly, plotting how to avoid her will. A challenge to accomplish, since she is the matriarch in charge, although young.

“I agree, it is not the kill we are investigating. What creature or hunter do you know who would or could lift an exceptionally large red stag into the fork of a tree and why?”

--- Pleasant Voice POV

As my mother bid me farewell, her final piece of advice, her trusted council still echoes in my mind, ‘a leader listens and then plans’. Therefore, I consider his words, my eyes stray to the tree and follow the trunk up to examine the position of the kill. Unusual, although this hunt is now complete and this mystery not theirs or mine to solve. My eyes now upon him, his whiskered top lip curls up to show the whites of his teeth, he seems pleased with my deliberation or does he believe such hesitation is weakness. The old hunter’s mane a dull grey, the golden colour of his youth long gone, his many scars a testament to his ability to survive, and as the leader, I would be foolish to dismiss his advice out of hand.

I pointedly examine each male in the hunting party, waiting for any other opinion or advice. Nothing. Pawed feet shuffle, they pretend to be on watch, with no one game enough to challenge the veteran and accomplished hunter Swift Spear, well no male of the Long Grass Pride at least. I recognise an alpha male exerting his influence, although perhaps not all share his point of view.

“Swift Spear, what is your proposal … instead of safely returning home?”

The younger males halt scuffing their clawed paws in the soiled decaying leaves, the guards turn about taking an interest, they fail to voice their preference although confirm with body language their want to return home leaving the Returned Lands and claim the rewards due or am I mistaken, they are interested in Swift Spear’s proposal. The hunt in the Returned Lands is bountiful and illegal, although those Beast Clans bordering the Returned Lands tend to ignore the Beast kin Decree as most consider the Decree based upon forgotten legend and hearsay.

“We lay in wait until the owner returns and perhaps ally with him.” His teeth flash momentarily informing her that the option is an unlikely one. “Or slay him and win renown.”

He chases fame then, the safety of those around him second to his ambition. Why are males always wanting more? To order him to leave and continue the journey would risk the other hunters siding with him as his proposal has decidedly sparked their interest. How could my assessment of their will be so completely wrong? I recognise within me an opportunity for great improvement and rejoice I am not blind to my failings.

My orders or commands, as the matriarch of this hunting party absolute of course, unless I suffer an unfortunate accident, so I chose my next words carefully.

“As hunters, some consider the discovery of who or what can manage such a feat important, I acknowledge this and therefore offer those who wish to hunt with Swift Spear the option to stay. You can keep your share of the kill this trip with you or if enough prefer to return to their family instead we will offer to carry your share home regardless of your fate while hunting with Swift Spear.”

As males do, they gathered, growled and decided while I tried to contain my amusement waiting for them.

Stepping forward Swift Spear announced, “Fights Bravely and Wooden Lance will accompany me and lay in wait. We ask you to deliver our shares for us, ensuring we are not weighed down.”

“Agreed,” I, Pleasant Voice reply.

--- Aphrodite POV

The first red deer kill I devour unrestrained and raw, the inherent nature of my new form, this Harpy creature voracious and monstrous. I expect to pay a penalty, reducing my Sentient Dominate aspect, none eventuated. Perhaps the system is keeping count. With blood, torn fur and several bone fragments at my feet, my stomach and my urge to slay abate. This contentment vanishes after I take to the air, flying in search of my next kill I require an exceptional amount of energy and stamina to keep me aloft.

My next kill I place high in a tree. Determined to land in the tree and place the kill within its branches took many attempts. The muscles attached to my wings are sore and strained after finding success, although the more I utilise them the more I strengthen them as well as my flying technique. With enough wind, I am now able to glide, a rest position while flying, although occasionally the wind fails without warning, and I need to vigorously flap my wings to regain control. Flying I consider a heady mix of freedom and luxury, the single greatest benefit of this Harpy form, a breathtaking joy.

A third red deer, perhaps a father to many, his antlers grown into many points drinks below me. His head swivelling and watchful before lapping another drink from the shallow and swift-flowing river his hooves bathe in, his source of life-giving water.

The first red deer I landed upon and crushed, this one I needed to hunt differently, to improve. I glide lower, ensuring my approach strikes from behind, careful to ensure my wing shadow doesn’t alert him, as it did for the second kill, which required me to string my bow and release arrows as he fled, to slay him.

One taloned foot in front of another, one to clasp his neck and the other to clasp his rump and then wings pumping to make my gliding descent into an ascent. The beast struggles and thus I need to end its life quickly. Using my talons, I squeeze its neck and slice in deep attempting to sever the artery I now know is there. Recalling memory fragments of my first kill, such an artery splashing me in warm refreshing blood triggering my frenzied hunger, although truthfully not the sole reason, my Harpy nature revelling in the kill and the feeding and I am certain my starvation a contributing factor. The aftermath requires me to wash in the river, a slick of blood trailing from me. I ultimately blame the nature of the creature I have become and refuse to believe otherwise. I need to civilise this savage beast within me.

My control not to kill First, my faithful follower, possibly attributed to the fact I still needed to realise my new existence and comprehend the means to act. I shudder as I realise one scratch, one wound and possibly I would have devoured her. Lies! I am deluding myself. I screech in anguish and enlightenment, my hunger and my nature coupled with a drop of blood, and she would have been my first kill. Since free of the Dungeon, free of him, I indulged and exalted in satisfying the needs demanded of my new form. This indulgence is due to the hunting nature of the monstrous creature I have become. I remind myself once again, I need to civilise this savage beast that is now me.

As I approach my tree larder the third kill continues to struggle, and I can’t risk severing its neck and releasing one of my holds. I am reasonably certain one talon will bear the weight of my prey, although I am uncertain if my flying skill can adjust to prevent an undignified crash. I adjust my flight path to land on the stone shore splashing down on the edge of the lapping water, relishing a satisfying delight. My landing pressed down on the deer’s neck, finally severing it, the prey struggling no longer as its warm lifeblood oozes over my talons and spills into the river. A long red slick, curves out, eventually washing thin and clear, drawn by the river flow. After a moment of concentration, the warm blood attempting to trigger the beast nature within me ebbs, I release my kill and stagger back into the cold water of the river. Ownership of my mind returns to me, the beast within calms.

An arrow glances off the feathers adorning my head. As is my want and with benign fortune, I lowered my head to savour the iron aroma of my kill’s free-flowing blood during my moment of indecision. My wings encapsulate my body and I ensure my back is to the river. Another arrow pierces my feathers and bounces off my ring mail harmlessly, its killing power is lost penetrating my feathers. An arrow fails to penetrate the bone in my wings, and I am relieved to pass this test, the monster and Monster Dominate in me triumphant.

My attackers continue to release arrows at me, while I step further back into the stream. The archer manoeuvres trying to outflank me and target my back. A near-silent splash alerts me and as I open a view through my wings I am startled to discover, beast kin, although too tall for Badger Kin, my two attackers are at least my equal in height.

Both are, like lions, although bipedal and wearing leather armour, not as a soldier does, as hunters covering and protecting areas of themselves a wild animal may strike. One is a youth, his golden mane forming, the other is a veteran his mane turned to grey. Both wield spears and as they strike, the older one, moments before the younger, I sweep my wings across, trapping their weapons and diverting them from my body. Neither release the grip they have on their weapons, instead forcefully attempting to withdraw them.

Sword in hand, I step forward to follow the withdrawal of their spears. As the older one clears his spear from my feathered wings, I open the wing slightly and stab upwards, the sword point slashes under his tooth and fanged animal jaw and continues behind his eyes and into his brain. His eyes widen as his brain is destroyed. He dies silently, although not unobserved.

The younger is paralysed, eyes fixated on his fallen mentor, friend or leader, I can’t discern which. Still and exposed he is an easy target now and my sword explodes from the top of his skull. When I try to withdraw it, my grip on my sword supports the dead youth standing, wiggling and dancing on the end of my blade.

A pain explodes above my buttocks, in the small of my back where the muscles attached to my wings are corded and knotted. I pivot, sweeping my wings out, unfurling them and with satisfaction, they crash into my attacker and knock him into the river. He roars at me, frustration or challenge I know not.

He reaches for his spear, now a floating possession of the river, recovering his weapon in time to receive my thrown spear in his chest. His facial expression must reflect surprise, eyes wide, his whiskered top lip drawn back as is his lower lip to expose his fangs as much as they are called teeth. His ears laid back in his developed golden mane. Then he topples over, and it is my turn to rush forward and claim him from the flowing river.

I recover his body and as I reach the stone covered riverbank, a warm trickle of blood flows between my buttock cheeks. Reaching behind me the wound isn’t deep, although bloody, the surprise is the colour. Not a deep black. As I spread it on a stone to wipe my fingers, I discover an extremely dark shade of red.

{Feline Essence, Sub Species Lion absorbed. Do you wish to accumulate Essence on [S]ub Species or [B]east Type? S/B}

How will the choice affect my next evolution I ask?

{If you choose a Sub Species your next evolution will be based upon the Sub Species. If you choose Beast-Type your next evolution will be randomised on the Sub Species Essence you have absorbed. Accumulation based upon Beast-Type will ensure your next evolution can occur sooner as all kills accumulate towards it.}

I select Beast Type. I choose this option as my days to roam are limited before I need to return to the Dungeon, and I need to ensure my essence is high enough to evolve.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 150.0% Feline Essence Level 1 Total 50.0%}

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 50.0% Total 100.0%}

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 2 Total 0.0%}

Three kills, Level Two Essence, the older the better as it yields more Essence. Although it can’t merely depend upon age as the Kobolds yielded five percent Essence each. Perhaps they are related to Dragons, distantly? I calculate I need to slay twenty of them to gain the equivalent essence when I kill a mature Lion Beast kin Adult. Therefore, an entire tribe of Kobolds or possibly two or three tribes need to be slain to gain enough essence. Too many, I doubt I could emotionally survive the mass slaughter required.

Now to inspect my furry kills. They are covered in fine golden fur, although the older one’s fur is greying in places. Their armour interests me as the lower pieces are leather bandages or straps, which front, and back square leather pieces hang. One, which has a tail has a hole conveniently cut through it. I dress in whole square leather front and back tied to a belt of leather around my waist. They favour necklaces with bones, gems and carved wood threaded together, which are pretty in their own way, although I suspect meaningful as the necklace of the older Lion Beast kin comprises many such items. I scavenge a set of leather forearm guards from the dead, they are soft and layered and tied off around the forearm.

{Humanised appearance, all sexual locations covered to preserve modesty. +10% Sentient Dominate.}

I review my clothing and recall Zeus’ attire. My mismatch is functional and preserves my modesty, I need to find proper clothing though, I need to dress as a cultured civilised being. I observe the river and focus on the gurgles and swishes of the water flowing by, I am attentive to the wind through the trees, purely as a survival habit, now realising this is a wilderness and I must find civilisation.

My deer kill is still held by the tree and I notice many Lion footfalls positioned to gaze at it. Thus, slightly ungainly, due to flying more than walking, I carefully step an ever-widening semi-circle from the tree. The forest here isn’t thick, they didn’t need to push their way through or find a game trail. I discover enough scuffed footfalls and broken twigs on branches to indicate their direction of travel.

Satisfied I carry the elder Lion Beast kin to a secluded place as I intend to consume his liver and while stunned, I wish to remain hidden and not become an easy kill. The other kills I place at the foot of my tree larder. I apologise and ask the defeated Lion Beast kin for his flesh so I may live, a glimmer of my humanity striving to assert itself.

I blink and the blood on the hand I used to scoop out his liver isn’t dry, only moments have passed. I remove the padded cloth above my buttocks and my skin is healed smooth, what is more, I absorb a worldliness whatever that means. I repeat the liver consuming on the archer Beast kin and sense the same worldly enlightenment. After consuming the liver of the youth Beast kin, I am invigorated, and my hunger propels me to peel back his lightly furred skin the golden hairs catching the sunlight magnificently, to reveal the bled flesh. I am controlled in this deed and savour every morsel. I am sure this is not civilised, perhaps I receive a concession due to my Harpy nature as it demands nourishment.

{Knowledge successfully transferred: Spear Level 7, reduced to Spear Level 5, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

{Knowledge successfully transferred: Bow Level 6, reduced to Bow Level 5, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

{Attribute successfully absorbed: Vigour +10%, reduced to Vigour +2%, restricted by Feline Essence Level.}

I add the two Lion Beast kin to my tree larder and propel my wings, my muscles bunching and releasing to drive me skywards. As dusk approaches, I fly in the direction of my prey searching for a campfire. Clarity of purpose forms within me, I must increase my level of Feline Essence. My gains from devouring them are a blessing from Zeus I suspect. His rules call for me to accumulate Essence and grow in skills, knowledge and power, the crime haunts me although this Harpy form allows for little remorse and my Monster Dominate greatly exceeded Sentient Dominate when they were defeated.

--- First POV

I observe the males as they emerge from their shells. They don’t gain full wings, stubs to mark them as changed, not formed enough to fly. Their voices remain high, harsh yipping, which I discover when their first words are to complain, bitch and lament. They are recognisable as Karpy due to their taloned feet although I am sure the Great One’s disappointment in them will surpass mine.

Attempting to commune with them is also hopeless, they are male, they are less.

“Charm them, sisters, we will harvest their seed and then order them to follow.”

“Can we devour them afterwards First?” asks Bucket Two.

I seriously consider her suggestion, although devouring them now or devouring them later makes no difference and perhaps if they can follow on foot, they will prove themselves worthy beyond their handicaps.

“No sisters they are of our race and I forbid us to eat our own. They may yet prove themselves worthy.”

“Yes, First I obey.” Both Bucket One and Bucket Two acknowledge my decision.

Before we fly off, we instil in our males the need to follow us and their ultimate destination. A tree beside a river with much meat stored within its branches.

I glance to either side of me and both of my sisters are ready. Launching as did the Great One we then weave between the stone columns jabbing from the cavern roof and the cavern floor, our smaller bodies and wings easily adjusting as required.

Once out of the cavern we fly over familiar Kobold tribal hunting grounds and change course toward the river, following the Great One eager to serve. Our flight over the treetops is dangerous, although considered safer than flying high and being noticed from afar, from the ground or the air.

As dusk falls, we continue avoiding the flickering light of campfires, targeting the silver slither of the river, moonlight revealing its course. Gliding above the river we shortly catch the scent of blood and turn to shore.

The scene before us is a blood bath. The larder is being contested, with predator animals fighting to the death to claim it, other, slightly wiser animals rushing off to lick their wounds before death.

“We will land in the tree and observe, nothing more sisters.”

Our landing distracts the current fighting pair, a large wolf beast and a six-legged cat beast as leaves fall twirling to the ground. Wolves hunt in packs and as we wait the pack surrounds the cat beast and creep in low to the ground. Multiple strikes, shallow, although drawing blood decorates the cat’s black hide. It strikes out to escape and the pack follows, howling. As the howling fades the gnawed halves and quarters of the dead lay in silence at the foot of the Great One’s larder tree.

Smaller carnivores, more willing to share the spoils than fight over them sneak out from hiding and clean up as haunches of meat, legs, legs with rump attached and forelegs are dragged away. The carcass’s body is too large for them.

“Eat faithful servants, gorge your fill as I hunt for more.” The Great one commands us, and we obey. With much meat available we devour the mature Lion Beast kin and the red deer. We leave the elder Lion Beast kin for the males if they ever arrive.

As we dine on near fresh meat the tiredness of flying leaves us and we settle in the tree with full extended stomachs. Our lives as Kobolds behind us, the search for meat scraps and the small portions of mushrooms permitted us by the Ogres and Orcs who claimed the lion’s share, a distant memory.

The wolf pack returns as we finish, and we throw the bones to them. They realise the larder is now reduced, although they drag away what they can of the remains around the tree.

--- Azizos POV

{Quest Dungeon Azizos offers Shaman Raxe a Denizen Contract. You will not lack sustenance and, you will respawn if slain and possibly over time evolve into a greater being. Yes/No?}

I can offer to respawn her if she dies now, thanks to my Living Construct, therefore I am certain she will accept. Then a question?

“Will we rule ourselves as the Great One promised? The Ogre Lord will not rule over us.”

The Great One? Who is this Great One she speaks of? She must mean her and if true, she gained an epitaph! I am wearying of calling her bitch given the boons she is harvesting for me, although I remain suspicious and the naming of her by others is worrisome. She is no longer in my domain, although I perceive she still exists as our tenuous bond remains although stretched, like a cord of leather. I take comfort in knowing she will return in thirty-eight days or be respawned.

“Yes, your rank and importance are equal to the Ogre Lord, none of my denizens can fight each other without my permission. It is my understanding the Kobolds supplied the food for the Ogres and the Orcs, which leads me to believe more Kobolds are needed not less,” I reply.

{Shaman Raxe accepts Denizen Contract. 950 mana deducted.}

The mana cost is an unpleasant shock, although an evaluation and a confirmation by the system of their worth as the bottom or former bottom of the food chain.

“Return to the Kobold Cavern Zone, inform me of your needs and I will try to meet them, if I can’t now, then in the future I hope to,” I finish.

“Our new Overlord is wise. My first request is to allow us to block off the Mushroom Cave from the Ogre Lord’s Cavern. We will dig a new cavern to sleep.”

“When you arrive, the change requested, and the new cavern will await you as my ownership of your zone has started. As with the Ogre Lord, I am creating separate tunnels to my Dungeon proper, this avoids either denizen needing to utilise the Front Cavern. The Front Cavern is the slaughter area for any who are weak, and dare enter!”

“We go, and we thank you.”

Proper humility, from a woman no less, amazingly it is possible, the female Shaman proves it. Perhaps humility and thankfulness uniquely surface when the woman is an elder and wise in the ways of the world.

I create a Xorn in the Rock Cavern, which is now clear of rocks, nevertheless, the name will stand. The system offered a Standard Xorn, which I rejected as I am in no rush. The more mana I gather the faster I will expend it, therefore a Minor Xorn as before will suffice. As before he starts to devour the special rocks and I start to accumulate mana once again.

Opening the Denizen’s Menu, I trim back my mana support to them to twenty-five percent of needs. They won’t die, lethargic and ineffective perhaps at most. I am forcing them to work and trade between them, although on a level table now as I realise the value of the Kobolds to my Dungeon’s sustainability. I wonder if they feed my other creations will I save on mana. Would Nehal consider a diet of Mushrooms?

{Rank Increase Granted. Stagnation Condition Lifted. New Zone acquisitions qualify to satisfy the New Zone growth minimum. Quest Purpose revealed to all. Prepare for Questors.}

What follows are countless notifications about acquired and granted items, options and room features. The one I notice most though is the mana regeneration, a ten percent increase. I am possibly now at war. Who with, I know not, perhaps I should read my previously inaccessible Quest Purpose…?

Character Sheet: Aphrodite

Name: Aphrodite Culture: Greek Mythos Race: Harpy Superior Spirit: Human Body: Living Basalt Soul: Dungeon Dominate Sentient Dominate: 27% Monster Dominate: 27% Dungeon Dominate: 65% Hominine Essence: Level 10 Avine Essence: Level 10 Dragon Essence: Level 0 Feline Essence: Level 2 Strength: 65 Grasp: 75 Toughness: 65 Constitution: 65 Vigour: 67 Endurance: 65 Dexterity: 85 Agility: 75 Quickness: 75 Wisdom: 75 Perception: 55 Mettle: 55 Intelligence: 50 Willpower: 75 Power: 75 Charisma: 50 Glamour: 50 Beauty: 100 Languages: Greek Kobold Orc Ogre Feline Gifts: Regeneration Prolific Fertility Shadow Hide Silent Step Spear: Level 5 Halberd: Level 1 Bow: Level 5 Sword: Level 15