Connor pinwheeled backwards, swearing like a sailor, as the blade penetrated into the organs he'd just finished generating, darn it.

[Ding! The host has sustained biological damage. Temporary -1 to Phloem.]

Bloody bastard, damaging his precious stats. Screw that guy!

[Congratulations to the host! You’ve survived an endurance test. Heartwood +1, Bark +1]

…Nevermind. He loved that guy; that guy was his best friend.

‘That guy' waved his sword about in the air and, screaming, tried to take Connor's head off. Connor ducked out of the way, slamming a fist into the man's wrist. The would-be assassin dropped his blade, hissing, then drew a dagger.

“Die, demon!” He screamed again, face contorted in fury, trying to stab Connor in the throat.

“What? I'm no demon,” Connor swore, weaving around the flashing blade, “well, okay, maybe I am? I'm a phone that was reincarnated as a demon, then became a ghost, then became a man - so I'm really a human being, if you think about it.”

“Nah,” said Death while doing her nails, “transmigrators aren't humans. You're a distinct species.”

Connor wasn't sure how he ought to feel about this revelation, but unfortunately he didn't have the time to work out his feelings as the youth pressed his attack.

“You can't fool me, demon, I know you're seeking to destroy the kingdom!” Cried the black haired youth, stabbing Connor faster and faster.

“Uhhh, Death, little help?”

“I can't do jack, Phone-kun,” Death said sweetly. “I'm Death, remember? You just kill that transmigrator, and I'll take his soul directly to Hell.”

“Wait, hol’ up, he's a transmigrat- aaghh!”

This last query turned into a squawk as the youth flexed his arms, crying out, “Cheat Skill, Activate: LASER PECS.”

Connor gave another squawk and tossed himself onto the floor, only for his [Pole Vaulting] skill to involuntarily activate with a sproing and toss him another six feet in a disjointed parabolic arch that ended only when he fell into a shrub.

The youth continued to spin about, fiery bolts flying out from him in an incendiary rain of destruction. Several bolts whizzed through Death's intangible body, singing the shrubberies behind her. She whistled and idly pulled a romance novel out of her purse, beginning to read. Connor ducked out of the way of several more blasts of fire, then voluntarily used his [Pole Vaulting] skill to charge at the black haired transmigrator, tackling him to the ground in a (to his mind) brilliant wrestling move.

[Ding! Host, that’s not how you play Lacrosse.]

Connor froze. “What?”

The youth had no idea what the demon was screaming about, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one and immediately began to call out his second Cheat Skill.

“Cheat Skill, Activate: ACIDIC PHLEGM!”

Thereupon he spat out a glob of hideous, glowing spit, which arced harmlessly through the air Connor had formerly been filling before landing on and burning a hole in the transmigrator’s shoe. He winced in agony, wishing he had a Healing Cheat Skill.

Connor, of course, had jumped up and away the minute the young man started saying ‘Cheat Skill,’ unsure as to what the transmigrator was planning to do but determined not to find out. He now danced on the balls of his feet as the transmigrator staggered back onto his own, the latter wincing as his weak foot came into contact with the ground. The man spit - normally, this time, though laced with blood, and then used the skill again. “Cheat Skill, Activate: ACIDIC PHLEGM.”

Connor idly walked to the side as the acid hit the ground, hissing. He looked at it in confusion, then back to the irate transmigrator.

“Ugh, do you have to call out the skill before you use it? That’s so cringey.”

The transmigrator, surprisingly, looked fairly upset at this remark, like he might almost cry. “Well it’s not my fault my System requires me to call out my Cheat Skills before I can use them.”

“Seriously? Gross, and ineffective, bro - it’s easy to avoid your murderous spit if you have to tell me you’re horking before you start horking.”

One long, slow tear rolled down the transmigrator’s eye, but Connor continued his vicious and insensitive tirade.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Man, you really rolled poorly on whatever Automatic System Draw they’re doing in the Heavenly Bureaucracy, didn’t you? And to think, I thought my Ultimate Tree System or whatever it’s called was idiosyncratic and useless.” He winced in sympathy.

“You- you- you-” the transmigrator stuttered out, tears streaming down his cheeks. Connor blinked uncomprehendingly.

“I what?”

“You-” and then the black haired young man said a very, very naughty phrase, which polite young men will never, ever use (it started with ‘f,’ had seven letters, and ended with ‘u’), before charging Connor with his dagger, screaming incoherently.

Connor grabbed his dagger arm at the wrist, getting the man in an arm lock, then brought his leg up in a brutal thrust.

[Roots]

The transmigrator tried to fall back, wheezing, but his arm was still stuck in a lock and he found himself incapable of moving far. Connor kicked the man once more, his useless indomitable toes skill getting the workout it so desperately deserved.

The would-be assassin spit blood, then tried to lunge for Connor’s waist, seeking to bring him down. Connor let him, taking the opportunity to deliver a brutal body slam to the assassin as he fell. The transmigrator took it silently, and no longer tried to fight back. Instead his body lay on the ground, twitching.

Connor stood over his defeated foe, panting, victorious, uncertain of what he should do. He looked over to Death for life advice. She was in the middle of seeing how long she could hold her breath for while doing a handstand (forgetting that she didn’t need to breath) but at the sight of his agony and indecision she realised there were finally important things afoot and sprung back onto her own feet.

She was about to instruct him in the basics of getting information from a suspect when all of a sudden she heard a sound. Her eyes went wide. “Someone’s coming, quick - get rid of the transmigrator. We can hunt him down later and question him then.”

“Get rid of him? How can I ge- oh, wait, I have an idea. I have the perfect skill for this!”

And, impressed with his own brilliant forethought and excellent decision making skills, he grabbed the limp and groaning transmigrator, swung him over his head, and then used [Lacrosse].

Connor and Death stood there quietly for a moment.

“Did you really have to-” Death started, but Connor burst in on her.

“How could I know it was going to do that? I thought it would just toss him through the air!”

“What do you mean, you thought it was going to do that? It was [Lacrosse]. If you wanted the entire, pole-like body to fly through the air then you needed something like [Javelin Toss] or [Sport Harpoon Tossing] or [Caber Tossing]. [Lacrosse], as well you should know, merely tosses a ball.”

“Right, but-”

“Oh mein gott,” swore a third, unfamiliar voice. “Was ist das?”

Connor and Death spun about, and came face to face with the one person they least wanted to meet in the kingdom at this particular moment.

The prince stared at them in horror, one dainty cloth pressed up to his lips in shock. He was perfectly posed, perfect in form, perfect in facial structure and facial expression… just perfect in every way, really. (At least, so far as his appearance went.)

He looked at the pair - Death, standing there suspiciously; Connor, soaked in blood and holding a headless corpse - and gagged once more. His next sentence was incoherent - even in Oktoberlander - but, after making a monumental effort to gather himself, he was able to stagger out in Rabais Quebecois-

“And what, pray tell, is your explanation for this?”

Connor coughed. “Well, I know how this looks, your highness, but I can assure you this was all done in self-defence. You see, this gentleman attacked me with a sword-”

“And it was all but certainly deserved,” sniffed the prince.

“…What? I beg your pardon?” Connor asked. He knew it looked awful, but that was an abnormal reaction.

“That man was one of the loyal agents of this kingdom’s greatest servant, the witch. If she sent him, then you must be some sort of evil being, assailing this kingdom’s sovereignty. Any murders you committed are purely peripheral to this charge.”

“That’s, uh, quite the feat - or should I say leap - of reasoning, your highness. Is there anyone else I can talk to on this matter? A constabulary, perhaps, or some sort of private investigator?”

The prince sniffed again, staring at Connor as if he was scum, and called for his guards. Footsteps could be heard from just around the corner, accompanied by the sound of jangling armour. Panicking, Connor turned to Death. “Oy, you talk some sense into him.”

Death looked at Connor suspiciously. Connor’s eyes went wide.

“Oh don’t you dare. Don’t you dare.”

“Sorry, chump, but I got a soul to take down to the Underworld. Best of luck - try not to die!” And Death gave him the peace sign before vanishing.

The prince strode forward, his men behind him and his imperious face locked in a hideous snarl. “Vile demon, lay down your arms - you’re under arrest.”

The sentient cellphone considered how best to comply with such a command when he had no real weapons to speak of, concluded that his highness must be referring to the other sort of arms, and then performed the most rational action he could-

He chucked his limbs at the prince.

Connor’s Stats:

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] 1 (0)

[Bark] 2 [Heartwood] 3

[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

[Yang Eyes] 0