Meanwhile, thousands of miles distant, a very different game was afoot. Edward ‘Artemaeus’ Brittleby had taken it upon himself to teach Connor Crinkle (formerly known as uPhone 12 model MX0169) the Body Regeneration Technique. This in spite of the fact that he was himself a novice cultivator and was, as he himself freely admitted, entirely unfit to teach others.

There was, however, a tragic paucity of instructors who might take his place. The snooty youth had refused to help, explaining that he had to be perfect elsewhere, and had flown off to be superciliously useless to all and sundry.

Death had been able to do only a little better. She had mentioned, with great annoyance, that she could not harm anyone, and could only handle physical objects, slightly. This helped her bring people to a dignifying rest. “And also,” she said, and here she was very proud, “it lets me eat ice cream.”

It did not, however, help with any art related to combat or fighting - which was most cultivation arts - and so while she could give a little advice on clearing the mind for the Body Regeneration Technique (advice Art needed as much as Connor) she could do nothing to help him with his Systems.

At the end of several weeks, however, he had got the basics of the Technique down. A thin, pulsating layer of flesh covered his ghostly form; the rudiments of bones moved underneath, and streams of blood could be seen weaving under the effervescent skin. He had extracted the stats of his varying Systems, and combined them to form the following:

Name: Connor Crinkle (formerly known as uPhone 12 model MX0169)

Age: 22

Race: Ghost of a Demon

Occupation: Exorcist

Physiological Stats:

[Leaves] 0 [Fruit] 0

[Xylem] 1 [Phloem] 0

[Bark] 1 [Heartwood] 2

[Roots] 5

Physical Stats:

[Geocaching] 0 [Lacrosse] 1

[Pole Vaulting] 1

Other sports to be unlocked later

Master of the Leifu Exorcistic Arts:

[Master of Exorcism] 1

[Master of the Storm] 0

He unfortunately had yet to seriously master any of his fourth System, the Master of the Leifu Exorcistic Arts - which even more unfortunately consisted of all his combat skills. The other skills were mostly physical; he knew, from experimentation, that however frivolous they might be in isolation they worked well together, and was optimistic that further growth of his Body Regeneration Technique would lead to yet further advances.

Death was slightly confused as to why the ghost she’d rescued had suddenly taking to drawing convoluted diagrams piecing dozens of data points together, but then she’d heard that the Systems of transmigrators were far more complex than most of them wanted to admit, and decided to leave him to his own devices.

At last the day came. They said goodbye to Art - who had declined an opportunity to adventure with them, explaining that he wanted to use his second chance at life to explore the world and see all the wonders it had to offer. He went on his merry way; and they went on their decidedly less merry way, to an adventure whose end they could not foresee.

Death had decided they would make their way to the Kingdom of Yore, and undertake their first, experimental mission there. She had been speaking to several of her fellow Deaths as they went back and forth from the Underworld (mostly collecting the souls of insects), and had discovered from a friend of hers that said kingdom currently had an Otome Game Villainess stalking its streets - an ideal target for two novices fresh from the afterlife.

Here, Connor was on nominally firmer ground. His owner, in his past life, had cared little for literature. The owner had a little brother, however, who had cared a great deal for it - in his own highly idiosyncratic way - and who, not being allowed a phone himself, had resorted to stealing his brother’s. The result of this is that Connor was slightly more familiar with isekai romances than one might expect, even if he was slightly surprised to be dealing with one. He expressed his surprise to Death, who nodded sagely and began to speak in a deep and authoritative voice as they walked leisurely down a winding road through the warm and windy valleys.

“Ah, the Otome Game Villainess, bane of the upper classes. It's a sort of transmigrating demon who possesses a woman of high station but low character, then - through an affected humility and a mysterious magnetism, a protracted pinch of je ne sais quoi - convinces the local leader to marry her and thereby seizes control of the polity in which she lives.

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“She's effectually a sort of social parasite who, through mystical and unknown powers, gets her friends, family, servants, beloved, and the people to fall into a deep obsession with her, which she uses to engineer her takeover of society. Though she typically lacks the Cheat Skills or Systems of other transmigrators, her very appearance of weakness is what gives her strength.”

“Oh?” Connor inquired, as they made camp for the night. He was setting up a pair of tents for them to sleep in, while Death continued her exposition. “How so? Normally, one would think the opposite is the case; at least, that was so in all the media my owner read.”

Death raised one eyebrow. “The ones who go around exuding the aura of the strongest strength strengthily conceivable? And what happens every time they meet someone?”

“That person accuses them of being arrogant and… challenges them to a fight. Ah.”

“Precisely. Hence her main strength is in fact her (perceived) weakness, and thus she succeeds through the uncertainty and ambiguity of any encounter with her.

“Cultivators, as you may know, usually and ideally care little for the doings of the unawakened, the vast majority of mankind who have yet to set foot on the path of cultivation and likely will never do so. Hence they have an ambiguous relationship to transmigrators, who often conflict with cultivators on their own journeys to immortality but just as often spend all their life making soap or fighting low level monsters with their sixteen buxom beauties.

“The Otome Game Villainess takes advantage of that ambiguity. By operating solely within the confines of unawakened society she avoids their attention in the first place; and even if she does somehow come to their attention, her evil is so diffuse and the difficulty of hunting her down so immense that most prefer to ignore her existence.”

“Hence why she's an ideal subject for us to begin our research with,” the shade observed.

“Hence why she's an ideal subject for us to begin our research with,” Death agreed. “Yore is a tiny kingdom - it's one city, built atop a mountain - with few cultivation sects, and plenty of simple hearted and feeble minded individuals who would be easy targets for a weak and defenseless Otome Game Villainess. I hear the first prince is as handsome as he is unobservant; I suspect that's why she chose the kingdom.”

“Chose…? Could she not have gone elsewhere?”

“Presumably, they could violate the storyline any time they want, and go off to do something else with their life. Why so many are content to live out the same narration is beyond me.”

And with that their conversation terminated. The rest of their journey was singularly uneventful - they passed peacefully through pleasant valleys, full of gently waving plants, and under the bows of forests green. Their travels were marked only by their discussions and Connor's increasing cultivation; strangely, they met no other humans as they went on their meandering way. At last they saw a mountain towering over them, its slopes dotted with trees and buildings and, at the mountain's edge, a guarded border.

Death paused before they reached the border and properly manifested herself, huffing and puffing as she slowly materialised into reality. She jogged in place and did some jumping jacks, making sure she was physically present, although Connor was amused to see that she was still floating some inches off the ground, as not to harm the bugs.

This procedure seemed to Connor completely unnecessary - she could simply have waltzed through invisibly, after all - until they reached the guards themselves.

“Gutentag,” said the chief guard, and followed this up with an inscrutable series of commands in the same language. Connor just stared, then turned to Death. “Uhhh…”

“Didn't I tell you? We crossed the informal boundary into the Free States of Oktoberland yesterday. Oktoberlander is the native tongue in these parts.” Death returned cheerily. It took every ounce of strength in Connor's body to refrain from going off about how they'd been travelling together for over a week now, and not once had Death ever bothered to mention that the place they were going to didn't speak English.

Death must have picked up on something of his discontent, however, because she looked him straight in the eye and commented, “You know we've been speaking the language of Rabais Quebec this entire time, right?”

Connor didn’t. He hurriedly tried to think back about his last several weeks in this world, focusing on the contours of what he’d been saying, and realised with some horror that however much he may have heard English words inside his mind, he hadn’t been saying any - and neither had Death.

Death smirked at his discontent, then proceeded to address the guards. One was a large, upright rabbit, dressed in appropriate guard-like wear; the other was a gargoyle, wearing nothing save his stone. Her Oktoberlander was crisp and perfect as she spoke to them, indicating that they were a pair of travelling ‘bildungsmeister’ (presumably, thought Connor, some sort of synonym for cultivator), and it took little to no time until they were allowed into the kingdom.

“Do I need to be worried about communicating with anyone else?” Connor murmured to Death, as they ascended a hill.

“The Otome Game Villainess prays on nobles; they, as a general rule, are bilingual or trilingual. Besides, you have me.”

The architecture of Yore was lovely, full of Gothic arches and curling towers and other sights which thrilled the inner child of Connor’s heart, who still felt a little thrill at the sight of knights. The fantastical beings walking around him did not help his childish delight - Green Men, beings of stone and glass, more talking animals, all milled about and did their daily business in the Kingdom of Yore.

Connor had wondered how, exactly, Death intended to gain them entry to the palace - for they could do nothing with this kingdom’s nobility without at least some access to the place where the nobility met - but as it turned out it proved to be surprisingly easy. In a kingdom of one city and next to no sects, a pair of travelling cultivators stood out like a sore thumb, and before they could even take out a hotel room they found themselves invited by a servant in livery to visit the king himself.

When they entered the throne room they found him despondent. His head was in his hands, tears streaked his face, and his regal robes were all askew. He looked at them, his figure the very picture of despair.

“There are regency ball gowns… evil is afoot.”