We quickly found a nice, covered patch to set up our tents and take a load off. A tense silence settled onto the campfire soon after. I hefted the chestplate off my body and allowed myself some breathing room. I inspected myself to study the full extent of what I’d gained by draining the Nightwalker’s soul.

REN KAGEYAMA

Level 24 Master Thief [Fatigued] [Cursed] HP: 56/70 Strength: 31 Intelligence: 56 Endurance: 54 Perception: 45

I’d leapt an incredible fourteen levels! I was better in every single way. Stronger, smarter, tougher and sharper witted. I had also lifted a few new skills, like three levels of spellcasting. Unfortunately, without the proper catalytic weapon the prospects of using it were slim to none. Much to my frustration our skeletal friend was not a former hunter.

Stigma had also levelled up.

STIGMA OF A THOUSAND TEETH

Level 12 Relic Strength Required – 10 Attack speed – 2.0 Damage - 8 Grants ability: [Consume] Affix: [Empty]

[Consume] allows the wielder to syphon the strength of defeated foes. 25 percent of [Experience] is transferred to the wielder.

[Consume] allows the wielder to take [Affixes] from other items and apply them to Stigma.

With an attack speed of two seconds and a damage value of eight, my damage per second had increased massively to four. My new strength allowed me to swing the blade faster and extract more potential. Still not enough to defeat a group of inquisitors like Stigma did the day before.

Cali's bout of insanity had gone as quickly as it came. The twisted expression of glee that she held, moments before potentially having her head torn from her shoulders, stuck in my mind no matter how much I tried to forget it. There was something seriously wrong with her, no doubt about that. She'd lied to me about the ease of this job. If I wasn't there to back her up and distract the thing she would have died.

Cali had taken the liberty of getting relaxed, stripping away her armour and coat – leaving her in nothing but a thin white shirt and a pair of underwear that rode up and over her hip-bones. This girl was hopeless. How she managed to survive this long without something terrible happening… I didn't want to imagine. There were a lot of mercenaries who wouldn't be so casual about having a naked woman in front of them.

I shimmied my coat off and hung it from a branch. The fire we'd started was keeping me warm enough. I wanted to inspect my injuries, so I also removed my shirt. I glanced down at my chest and stomach. Purple splotches had started to form where the monster had struck me during the fight. It hurt pretty bad. My left hand and forearm were completely fucked. The pain was pretty intense. I rued myself for wasting my healing potion the day before, now would have been the perfect time to use it.

I heard the sound of Cali getting up and moving towards me. Déjà vu struck as she started to ooh and ah at my injuries like a curious child. She laughed deliriously, "Does that hurt? Does it hurt really bad?" Before I could respond she reached out and touched one of the bruises, causing me to yelp and back away.

"Hey! What's the deal?"

The still look on her face did not make me feel safe. "I just wanted to admire your injuries," she stated, drool pouring from a hypothetical maw as she said it, "They're… exciting."

"Really? Because from my perspective they hurt like a bitch."

"This is what life is about," she explained, "There's nothing better than seeing a battered and bruised body. I like to think about the sensations that you must have experienced when they were given to you. Straddling the line between life and death, we could have died. Turning into maggot food, forgotten in these dark woods forevermore."

She jumped at me. I tried to push the persistent elf away with little success. Her fingers were everywhere, tracing the edge of every scar, mark and bruise. The meticulous care she took in making every wound ache anew drove me up the wall.

"Get off me!" I finally wrenched her arms away from my chest and rolled over, forcing her beneath me. Her red eyes glittered with barely restrained insanity. I knew I wasn't going to get a good answer from her. She was too far gone.

"Does that upset you?" she asked pointedly, "I do hope that if it does, the animosity you feel festers into a deep and unhealthy anger. Leading to you cutting my neck and covering yourself in my blood."

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I decided not to do that. I reached to my pack and grabbed a length of rope, trying her wrists and legs. Cali cried out the best she could to further irritate me. "Oh! I'm completely defenceless. You monster. Defiling such a pure woman." The entire time her tone didn't fluctuate from her usual droning sneer. She knew that nothing like that was going to happen on my watch. She was just trying to rile me up.

This was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to me. I tightened the knots around her wrists and ankles as she pretended to cry out for help. "Shut up!" I demanded. With the task done, I carried her back to the other side of the camp and threw her into the tent, zipping it up, "I'll untie you tomorrow morning."

She spoke through the fabric flap, "No. Please do as you wish. I understand completely that I have offended you." I pinched the bridge of my nose as I saw her silhouette struggling through the thin layer of coloured cloth that now separated us. What in god's name was wrong with this girl?

"Go to sleep!"

I stormed back to my resting spot and sighed. I should have known that something was up. The dead fish act had lulled me into a false sense of security. I grabbed some bandages and started to wrap myself up. I'd need to find some proper medicine when I got back to town. With the haul of cash I'd earned, I could even afford some of the good stuff. Cali, sensing that I wasn't going to murder her anytime soon, finally quieted down. Never, even in my darkest moments would I consider doing something like that. Cali wasn't expecting me to, I reasoned, she was high on adrenaline and some kind of twisted emotional fulfilment.

I felt a glare on my back. I turned to see Stigma lurking behind me. She hopped down and landed next to me. It was odd seeing her imitating a real person. When she landed it made no sound or visible impact. She pouted and leaped onto me, though this time I didn't fall down, as she wasn't physically there.

I could feel her though. "Why did you let that pushy woman climb all over you?" she growled, "Doesn't she know that you belong to me?"

"Stigma… gah!"

I felt my body seize up as Stigma assumed control, "We have something even deeper than a physical attraction. Darling – your everything is mine to consume. Your heart, your marrow, your soul. It all belongs to me. We're connected by the red string of fate." Her hand drifted lower and lower until it pressed against the front of my pants. I felt my own hand moving with it. With a deft touch she unzipped them and pulled them down to my knees.

"Stigma!"

She smirked, "Yes darling?"

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you never stray from me again." Stigma's hips wiggled in the air, a seductive dance designed to inflame my loins, and I was ashamed to admit that it worked. Stigma was beautiful - the most beautiful 'woman' I'd ever seen. My erect shaft was soon exposed to the open air, Stigma cooing happily as she finally came into metaphysical contact with it. I gripped my knuckles tight as I felt the soft touch of her ghostly fingers up and down the underside of my length.

"So hard for me! Such a charmer. If only I had a physical body. No matter – I can make you feel just as good as a real woman." Stigma had hijacked my nervous system using her power. I hadn't realised just how connected we really were until now. She weaponized her looks just as much as my own nerves, exposing her breasts and allowing them to hang freely.

Despite my mind telling me that she wasn't there, it was undoubtedly arousing to see her giving me a handjob. Stigma was beautiful and terrible. Long, messy black hair and crimson eyes. What was this appearance based on? Had she been inspired by a real person long ago? Or had she constructed this image with the sole intent of luring in impressionable men of lesser repute. She swayed her hips from side to side, never once taking her eyes off mine.

I struggled to regain control of my body. She was stimulating the nerves in my penis directly using her powers somehow. I screwed my eyes shut and thought unsexy thoughts. The day's events and Stigma's show had put me on a knife's edge. Her strokes grew faster and more frantic as my breath grew heavier. Stigma was merciless, driving me to ejaculation as quickly as she could. My hips started to lift themselves from my seat as I felt the end near.

"That's it, let it go," she demanded.

"Get off of me!"

I felt the tensile cord holding us together snap. The sensations stopped, and just as quickly the arousal that I'd felt disappeared. When I finally regained my senses, Stigma was sitting beside me with a pout on her face. She wrapped her ghostly arms around me and clung to my left side like a doting wife.

"Why won't you let me help you?" she sighed.

I sighed, "Stigma, do you really think I was going to sleep with her?"

"It doesn't matter. When my darling's eyes wander, I can't help but get jealous!"

I was surrounded by lunatics. I rebuttoned my pants and shimmed backwards into the small alcove I selected as my camping spot. It'd keep me dry. Warmth was another matter. I wrapped myself in as many layers as possible. Stigma followed me inside, "I could adjust your perception of the temperature," she added, "Then you'd have no need of these silly clothes."

"I know you want to see me naked, but that wouldn't do much good unless you can actually warm me up. I'd just die of frostbite." Stigma seemed upset, maybe because her body wasn't physical and she couldn't 'warm me up' using it. I became curious and decided to ask her a few questions, "Could you become… real?"

"I do not know. None of my wielders have lived long enough to realise my true potential. With enough power anything is possible, a master spell-weaver could conceivably create a body for me using a similar principle to a Nightwalker. Why? Is my beloved master lonely without my warmth?"

"I was just curious," I said, "About how much you know about yourself. Were you created like this? A spirit living within a sword, or was your soul trapped in here?" I mused, placing my hand on the wrapped blade.

"A lady must keep some of her secrets," Stigma responded, "Some of my earliest memories are blurry. Such that I do not know of my own origins. Some of those days may have just been the delusional fantasies of a fraying mind, trapped within a prison of steel and iron."

"True. All of this might just be the last desperate electrical signals sent to my brain after getting hit by a fucking car. Not much I can do about that. Perception is reality. I think it's about time I got some sleep. You two wore me out."

I tucked myself into the nook and shut my eyes. It wasn't as good as a real bed, but for a rogue – this was the life. Sleeping in trees and under bridges, pitching your crappy tent wherever you could. Stigma resigned herself to silence as I drifted off into a less-than-restful slumber.