Someone or something grabbed Bob's outstretched hand in an iron grip.

Who dares impede Bobman on the paths of evolution? He looked down and was surprised to discover it was his own mud cloak.

Bob, what you are doing? The rational part of his brain snarled.

What does it look like? I'm accepting the system prompt, I'm starting the evolution, I'm ascending rank.

Bob, why do you think it's called an evolution process? The rational brain continued coldly.

I'm no etymologist. Don't ask me stupid questions.

Process, Bob, process. What if it doesn't take place instantaneously.

That stumped Bob a little. What will happen to me while it's going on?

I don't know Bob. You'll probably be helpless. Maybe unconscious.

That doesn't sound good.

Bob looked at his surroundings. It was a battlefield, corpses, blood, acid-burnt trees, churned up mud and rain. Yes it was still raining. Not to mention, a monster-attracting fragrance continued to hover over the area.

Should we maybe change locations?

He finally got there.

You don't have to be mean about it. Is there anything else?

Yes. Sophie!

Bob cursed and slapped himself on the forehead. He thought he'd delivered most of his ascension speech mentally, but he might have let slip some gestures and phrases here and there. Had he spit at one point? Why had he spit again? And spit badly at that? That was embarrassing. What had Sophie thought he was up? Still the woman probably had the measure of Bob by now. Nothing could surprise her anymore. That meant things could only get better from here.

All the same, Bob vowed to work on his social aptitude stat. He'd gotten so used to being alone or accompanied only by a dog and mud cloak, both of whom were poor conversationalists who would happily follow Bob into whatever sticky situation he was marching towards. He'd completely forgotten that most people needed explanations and reasoning, and they might have different ideas or useful opinions. He had to do better, starting from right now.

"Guys, I just hit level 10." He paused for congratulations, but plowed on after a couple seconds of silent waiting, "there's some kind of evolution process I have to undergo."

"Robert, please, are you just going to leave us here?"

Bob grimaced. Wow, he actually hadn't even thought of that. And he probably should have. He'd never been very good at dealing with people.

"Of course not. I... but, you see. I don't think I have much choice. Look there's a timer attached to the evolution request. One hour and counting. I don't think we want to find out what'll happen when it reaches zero."

"And how long will this "evolution process" take?"

"I... don't know. But, well, honestly, I get the impression it won't be quick."

"As I feared. You should have left me to die in the mud. Out here I will be torn apart by wild animals."

"Hold your horses. George and I have a… base? A town. A safer place, You can buy stuff more cheaply there. And…" he hesitated, "I just got a huge cash influx from being first to hit level ten." Look how smoothly he lied. "We can get supplies there, set up camp."

Sophie didn't look reassured.

"You don't have anything to worry about. George will be there to protect you if anything goes pear-shaped. Pardon me. Sir George."

Sophie didn't look reassured.

"You know in a straight fight he's stronger than I am. Point him at your enemy and shout fire. It works maybe fifty-percent of the time. Just keeping shouting fire until he does it. He's not the best at taking instructions."

"I have noticed." Sophie glared at the dog. "That dog would have laid down and died if I hadn't dragged it with me."

Bob raised an eyebrow. Maybe she didn't know that he'd been able to see them during the fight. Because Bob definitely remembered George saving Sophie. There's no way Sophie could even have known about the mud walls or the staircase. But Bob decided to turn a blind eye. We all like to imagine our own contributions are what made the difference. Instead he settled on: "You two make a great team."

She scoffed, but George looked happy.

"Ok, let's get moving. I'm on a clock here guys."

Sophie limped forward, going unnaturally slowly, I mean, a baby would have crawled right past her and doubled back to gloat.

"How far is it?" She asked despairingly.

That was a good question. Bob wasn't worried about finding the place. The beetle stampede had left a pretty clear trail and worst case he had access to the settlement tab and could toggle the pylon visibility back on.

"Maybe 20-30 minutes walk? Depends on our walking speed..."

"I'll never make it. Leave me here to die."

"Oh, yes, sorry, you're still mana exhausted. Hm..." Bob stroked his beard fluff. "Nothing for it." He bent down and motioned for her to get on his back.

"Robert, if you believe for one moment I'm riding on your back, like some child, you are grievously deluded."

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Bob tutted. "Walk, ride on my back, or stay here. Your choice."

"I will stay."

"Dammit Sophie. Fine. Have it your way. George let's go."

Bob started off at a rapid pace and George bounded along beside. Bob determined not to look back. He wouldn't look back. He was steel. He peeked around.

She was standing there with arms folded, watching him go. When she caught him look back, she smiled. She thinks I'm coming back for her, Bob ground his teeth together. Nope, nope, not going back. Bob picked up speed. He was practically running. He must have been a good fifty paces away when he heard her call after him.

"Come back. Come back, Robert. I didn't mean it."

Bob turned around and put his hands on his hips. What am I going to do with this woman? What the hell was her end game? He marched back and crouched down. She obediently climbed on. Why couldn't she just have done that from the start? He lifted her up and started on the way again.

The first ten minutes went by in silence, but walking calmed Bob's nerves and the time helped Sophie recover some of her composure.

"Robert, I may have a regained a small piece of my strength. Would you like me to cast a repel over us?"

That sounded awfully like a peace offering. Bob had enough grace to accept it. He could be empathetic. Being kidnapped, tied up, then buried alive, then cornered by animated slime, then surviving an acid hurricane, before being told you would have to march through the night to some unnamed spot, could be a little trying on the spirits. He would give her a smidgen of leeway.

"You can do that too? How does that fragrance magic of your's work."

"It's not my magic. My companion object is this bottle of perfume. I don't quite understand it myself. But I can attract or repel different creatures. I can choose who the fragrance affects. Back there I just made it as strong as I could and to attract everyone and anything. But now I could make it just repel monsters."

"That's awesome. Sounds super useful."

"It did not protect me from those men or that slimy thing. It's less effective than you imagine. If a monster caught sight of us while I had the repel active, it would probably still attack."

"You summoned every living creature over a couple kilometers distance. You should have seen the way those beetles reacted."

"And look how it drained me. Alone I would have died at once."

"You're not alone anymore, Sophie. You have George."

She snorted but Bob caught the amusement.

"And I have you, Robert Brown, the first man to reach level 10."

"You know, when you put it look that, I almost sound like a hero. Is that how I appear in your eyes."

"To my eyes, you appear most muddy."

"Look who's talking."

"Ah yes, Robert I had a tiny question on that subject. It was you, was it not?"

"Me? Sophie, be reasonable. That was a spot of quickmud. What, you've never heard of quickmud? Well you know what quicksand is don't you? Quicksand actually gets its name from quickmud. Quickmud came first you see. Quickmud's a real killer. I think it's pretty bad in Australia. They lose almost a hundred people a year, I hear. Don't laugh. It can sneak up on you, I'm told. You think you're on solid ground and then, poof, the mud's got you."

"Robert, it's almost endearing how convincingly you can prattle on about such nonsense."

"Thank you very much. I take great pride in my prattling."

"Well, I received this curious achievement. 'Muddy' is the title. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

"Beats me."

"Curious." Sophie shook her head but let the subject drop (thank god). "So your power is controlling the mud? And your companion object?"

"You're under him right now." Bob had generously wrapped Harry around the both of them. This helped secure Sophie while keeping the rain off them both. "Say hello to Harry."

"The cloak?"

"Yes, that's right. And what about you then? If your companion is the perfume bottle, what's your ability."

"A woman mustn't tell these things."

"Be fair. I just told you mine, didn't I? Even Stevens."

"Very well. From my savior, Robert Brown, I will hide nothing. I have an identify ability."

"Hm..."

"If I focus and channel the spell, I can see information about my target. The longer I focus, the more information I get. I can see general descriptions of monster or the basic properties of plants."

"What about sentients?"

"I see very little I'm afraid. A name and a level. I can't even see classes."

"Well I expect you'll start to get more information as you level up."

"It's a poor ability. I can't fight, you see. I spend all my time running away. I'm only level 3 and all that comes from killing those pus caterpillars."

"I hate those caterpillars. True, it's not a combat skill. But I thought mud manipulation wasn't a combat art either. And it turned out ok. I mean it's an invaluable skill in a team. Especially if you start being able to see a monster's weaknesses."

"I suppose."

Bob snapped his fingers. "Wait so you can see my level right?"

"Yes, you are level 10."

"And George, what about George?"

"The dog is level 9."

Bob accosted the dog mid-stride and ruffled his head. "Sir George in the house. You're level 9. You dog. We've got to find you a level 10 monster to kill. You and me, boy."

Bob turned back to Sophie. "I can't wait for you to be able to see classes. I'm dying to know what George's class is."

"What's your class?"

"Do I have to say?"

"Is it a secret?"

"I mean, no. But it's embarrassing."

"Such powerful abilities must come from a mighty class."

Bob actually stopped running to laugh.

"Powerful ability. Lady, I can control mud. Mud! That's got to be the weakest ability out there."

"I just saw you decimate three powerful adversaries and then detonate a level ten slime monster."

"Those scenes are somewhat cherrypicked. You should have seen me three days ago. I was significantly less impressive."

"I can't tell if you are just being modest."

"Me modest? You must be talking about someone else."

"Well, will you tell me?"

"Fine. But promise you won't laugh and promise me you'll tell me your's in exchange."

"I promise."

"Heaven's Fool."

She laughed. Bloody women and their promises. They mean less than dirt. "I think it suits you."

"You know, somehow, that doesn't make me happy."

"I am The Beautiful Blade."

"What? What? How is that fair. That's straight out of a storybook. Somewhere they must sing stories about The Beautiful Blade."

"Am I worthy of being sung about?"

"No," Bob answered instantly. He might have been a little annoyed.

She pouted at him for not playing along, but Bob was busy giving himself a tension headache.

"I bet that damn dog is going to have something epic as well. The Golden Flame. Or Firebringer. Or The Glittering Inferno. Dammit all."

Thankfully, at that point, they'd arrived at Earth Settlement 1. Bob marveled at their speed. It couldn't have taken them more than fifteen minutes. And just how easily he'd piggy-backed a grown woman at a neat jog over several kilometers. Boosted body stats were nothing to scoff.

Bob got Sophie set up with a tent and some supplies. She was more than happy to rest. It had been a long day for them all, but especially for Sophie. She'd been through the lion's den and that wasn't even counting surviving the post-integration apocalypse on her lonesome. Bob's gratitude for a stalwart, canine companion had never been higher.

For himself, Bob constructed a little mud mausolean. He might have added some artistic flourishing. He'd had extra time. A pediment with a rough sketch of a brown-cloaked wizard facing down an amorphous blob of evil. Dramatic coloring if you will. George baked it all into mud brick with controlled bursts of flame. They would make a killing in the construction industry. There was no entryway. Bob would phase in and out through the soft mud floor. That should keep away any scavengers long enough for him to evolve. This patented mud-brick had kept back a beetle army after all.

Bob instructed George to stay with Sophie. His duty was to protect the woman while she recovered. George protested, whining that he wanted to come with Bob. It was only fitting for a knight to stand beside his lord. Somehow George and Sophie had not become friends. Woman to canine was one thing, but even the dog, even old George, usually the spirit of friendly cheerfulness, seemed cool to the woman. Bob himself found her wonderfully attractive, a paradigm of politeness and thoughtfulness. He might have been little bias, who can say.

In the end, Bob was the master. He wasn't about to leave an exhausted Sophie at the mercy of any wandering villain. Bob gave a word of command: "wait!" The dog whined and resisted, but the command held him.

Time to be reborn. Bob accepted the system prompt.