“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” There was no better way to sum up my current shitty situation. The young, more experienced mossbear that Mother Mossbear had chosen to spar with me might be only twenty levels stronger than the one before, but the male knew his stuff.

I was still faster than the beast, more agile, bouncing around him, looking for an opening. The young male didn’t give me many, though, and when he did, they were very risky to take. Like now. I closed the distance and took two swipes at the huge beast, only to have my wing caught in the moss shoots.

This Young Mossbear had seen more of my weaknesses than his younger sibling. It wasn’t just Sage, my tail, but all my limbs, my ears, my horns, and wings included. In fact, targeting them was a shrewder move on his part than it first appeared. Although the wings didn’t allow me to fly, I used them all the time. With each step, small movements of them balanced my footing, as did my tail, and when I needed to leap, the force within the flaps propelled me to greater distances.

Mercifully, my wings weren’t as sensitive as my tail, so when he pulled me down through the shoots, the pain akin to my spine being ripped out of my back didn’t cut through my body. Instead, when I pulled back with my wing, the shoots snapped. Though by then I was on my side, my belly fully exposed to the beast. Not that it mattered, not to this beast. What mattered was that he managed to stop me from bouncing around, if only for a few heartbeats.

Without wasting a second, the young male pounced, his paws bearing his weight, crushing the bones in my front leg. Not a heartbeat later, his fangs sunk into my side. A painful howl ripped from my throat as my mane wrapped around his snout. It worked once on his younger sibling, so why not on him? I learned firsthand how sensitive a muzzle could be. The moment the long, magically grown hair wrapped around the beast’s snout - and head - I pumped mana into it, feeling the chill myself.

The beast grunted and twisted its head to get rid of the mane, but unwilling to let go of me. Much to the young mossbear’s dismay, unless he wanted to lose his snout, which he didn’t, he didn’t have much of a choice.

The bastard didn’t let me go that easily, though. Instead of taking a step back, it bit down harder, jerked his head, and managed to rip a chunk out of my side despite all my [Constitution].

If it weren’t for all my skills, I’m sure I would have passed out. The blood, the pain. The world went dark before my eyes for a moment, only to have my stomach turn when the colors returned. Seriously, seeing the gaping wound through the domain, my intestines, my kidney ripped in half and the blood spurting out was neither easy on the eyes nor comforting.

Yet, while the beast was busy ripping off my mane, I tried to get away from him; to get some distance. The strength in my hind legs left me, though.

This battle was lost.

The irritating truth.

Humiliating.

Still, the lesson I had come for.

Swallowing my pride, I lowered my head and whimpered in defeat.

That didn’t go down well with the young male. With blood racing through his veins, he wanted to go on, to fight more, not stop. And he showed his displeasure by growling loudly and lunging at me.

Not exactly in a position to put up much of a fight, or even to avoid him, I braced myself for more pain watching massive shoots, controlled by none other than Mother Mossbear herself, come between him and me. “Enough!”

The power in her growl vibrated through my bones - and stopped the Young Mossbear in his tracks. Whether he liked it or not, the winner was clear. Him.

»Calm, cub.«

Showing his displeasure, while not daring to defy Mother Mossbear, the male moved away between the roots at the edge of the clearing, still chewing on a piece of my side. Not the first time this had happened, yet I found the sight repulsive. That was a chunk of me in his mouth, not a piece of beef.

As disgust and pain twisted my stomach, a small pang of guilt hit my heart. Wasn’t I the same out there on the battlefield? With pieces of my enemies in my mouth? No, I wasn’t. And this wasn’t some blind denial. I did not savor the fishy taste of octopus, let alone swallow any of it.

»And you, pup? You require treatment, or you care of yourself?«

My regeneration might have been extraordinary compared to other humans of my level, and I had already managed to stop the bleeding, but replacing the missing parts was another matter entirely. At minimum, it would take me all day.

»If I may, I will entrust myself to your care, Great Mother.«

The young male’s smug grunt did not escape my ears. The bastard was savoring his victory. I, on the other hand, watched as the moss around me came to life and began to cover me eerily fast.

»Settle down, pup.«

That was easier said than done when your whole body hurt and your fur tickled as tiny moss roots threaded their way through it. Eventually, though, the tension in my muscles eased as the moss began to glow with a faint light, doing the job Mother Mossbear willed it to do. My flesh began to mend under a layer of moss.

“I stand corrected,” Agent Sah said, standing back and watching the whole process with undisguised fascination.

“About what?”

“I have read the reports; heard from you, too, but to see mossbear’s healing with my own eyes is something else entirely. I’m humbled, of course.” Knowing that Mother Mossbear understood him, Sah bowed his head to her to give weight to his words. What meant more than any empty gesture, however, was the meaning in his words, and it was honest, judging by the acknowledged hum of the massive female.

“So, would you be willing to give it a try?” I teased. I don’t know why, but I found it fun to poke fun at the Imperial Agent.

“If I were injured like you, Grey, I wouldn’t hesitate. Not when I see how fast it works and know how deep it can go.”

“You know?”

“Aspen Werley. She went through the Life Burn and came out of Esulmor without any consequences. If anything, according to her, the mossbears here had rid her of old scars and blockages in her body that the healers had trouble dealing with entirely.”

“I-I see.” Two things flashed through my mind. Aspen and the scars. Despite spending most of my time in the barracks after my return, I hadn’t made time for my teacher of magic. Sure, I could say that I just had more important things to deal with, or that I was a little overwhelmed with everything that was going on, things moving at such a rapid pace, but that would be a lie. After all, I spent half the night at the Drunken Filly, drinking, dancing, partying.

The truth that now weighed heavily on my heart was that I’d forgotten all about her in the chaos of returning from the heart of Fallen’s Cry. While I was having fun, she was stuck in the barracks, a slave she was, unable to leave.

Was she still a slave?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It’s been nine months since she saved my life here in Esulmor. Chances were that she had already served her time . . .

“Is Aspen still a slave?”

“Werley? Yes, she is,” Sah said, a hint of understanding in his voice. “Don’t worry, Grey. She’s being treated well.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

He smiled. “A slip of the tongue, a bad habit. Try as I might, sometimes it’s hard to avoid judging situations based on a lifetime of experience. You see, not every commanding officer would be as understanding as Captain Rayden.”

Yeah. I was aware of that. “Mines or military, right?” That was where I remembered Aspen saying she’d end up if it weren’t for Rayden - toiling from dawn to dusk or as cannon fodder.

“Yes, or worse. Some officers, whether in the Guards or the Army, take such a disgrace to their command very poorly.”

“Isn’t it your job, you know, to get rid of people who are unfit for their positions?”

“Not primarily. We deal mostly with threats to the Empire.”

“And having a bad officer in command is not a threat?”

“That’s why I said not primarily. It’s complicated.”

“Politics, friends in high places, the interests of lords and ladies, bribes?”

“Th-that’s about it,” Sah nodded in approval. “I really should stop underestimating you. Anyway, Werley is in good hands. Five years of slavery and she’s out. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Rayden takes her back to the City Guards.”

“Neither would I,” I hummed, shuddering as my whole body tingled beneath the moss. “Thanks, Sah, for talking to me. I appreciate the distraction.” Deckard was usually with me at these times, doing the job.

“I didn’t realize you needed one.”

“Could do without it, but . . .” There was no need to say more. He understood.

The same could not be said for Idleaf. The tree rascal disappeared somewhere during my training. As it happened with her, something intrigued her more than her guardian taking a beating.

»You healthy.« Mother Mossbear declared as the moss began to retreat from my body, releasing me from its embrace. »Gather your strength. Feed yourself.«

My stomach twisted again, this time at the thought of lettuce moss. It didn’t taste that bad. For being basically moss, it was juicier than lettuce I knew.

Anyway, free of moss, it was time to stop stalling, so I shifted back to my human form. I may have had the mossbear genes in my blood, but eating lettuce as a beast struck me as a daunting task. In fact, thinking back to the fangs of the young male buried in my side, I lacked the molars in my beast form that mossbears and I had as human. Other beasts in my genetic makeup were likely to blame. However, whatever the reason for their absence, it did not change the fact that I simply could not chew the salad in that form.

“Back to torture, huh?”

Sah’s remark made me chuckle. “Yeah. You sure you don’t want a bite?” As they say, practice made perfect, and the more I encouraged the moss on my head to grow into lettuce shape, the easier it became.

“No thanks. I’ll make do with my own provisions,” he declined the offered handful I plucked from my head without hesitation. “Rather, I’m still amazed at how much you’ve changed, Grey. Your new confidence, your shyness - getting rid of it did you good in the long run.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said, pausing to chew the lettuce moss. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m entirely comfortable sitting here like this.” If Sah had half as good a domain as I did, and I would wager that his perception was on a completely different level than mine, then he saw all of me. Every detail.

“And that’s a good thing. Losing all self-awareness and scruples is just as detrimental as having too many.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Not being able to talk to people properly due to excessive shyness and not seeing the disgust my nudity might provoke in people were two extreme sides of the same coin.

“So, do you like what you see?”

“I certainly do.”

The leaves caught in my throat and I burst into a coughing fit.

“Y-you do?”

“Sure. A few minutes ago I could see your guts exposed, and now you’re stuffing yourself like nobody’s business, no scars.”

How stupid of me to think he was referring to my looks. It would take a special kind of man to like a half-human like me. Nevertheless, my naughty thoughts aside, his remark brought me back to what had been on my mind before. The scars.

To be exact, Tier IV of [Wrought Hide].

Tier IV - The battle scars etched into your hide become a canvas upon which the stories of both your existence and your lineage are painted, interwoven into a narrative of enduring resilience. Each scar is a testament to your tenacity, a mark of honor that bespeaks the countless trials you’ve surmounted. These scars, far from being imperfections, are channels through which the very essence of your being flows, emboldens your hide with a nuanced, labyrinthine weight of these stories, infusing it with an indomitable strength that echoes through the time.

Each scar bears the memory of what caused it and the matching resistance to that cause.

While, as Sah mentioned, my skin was now free of any imperfections thanks to Mother Mossbear’s healing, this training of mine with the young male was not a bad opportunity to test how this new part of the skill should work, what a difference a scar could make. The chances still stood that in order to get any noticeable benefit from a scar, I would have to have dozens of them.

Well, having one or two was fine with me. Having my whole body scarred - not so much.

The first thing I had to do, though, was figure out how to tell my regeneration to make a scar in the first place.

“Tits! What are you doing now, Grey?”

“Testing my skills.”

Sure, having one arm shifted and clawing at the other looked weird, but it was the easiest way to go. Certainly easier than splitting my concentration in a fight and risking getting mauled again. Not that figuring out the actual scaring thing was a simple task. My first attempt resulted in a complete failure. After boosting my regeneration with mana, the wound healed before my eyes, leaving me with pristine skin.

A few bites of lettuce to replenish my strength and reserves. Another bloody scratch. And then healing again.

Nothing.

No scar.

Was it a mistake to boost my regeneration? But if so, then the entire Tier IV of [Wrought Hide] would kind of lose its appeal. There was a chance that I would have to endure an injury that resisted regeneration - some kind of poison, a curse causing my flesh to rot, or who knows what - for days should I wish to acquire the specific resistance for my skin. A small price to pay in the long run, I suppose, yet nothing to get too excited about.

And so I went on, eating the lettuce moss growing between my antlers as I clawed at my skin, unwilling to give up after a few setbacks.

“Sah, you wouldn’t happen to know how to make my regeneration form scars, would you?” Despite my beast pride telling me to figure it out myself, I found no shame in asking.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Well . . .”

“You don’t need to tell me more. I get the gist. There’s more to scars than having something to brag about. As far as I know, scars result from the inability of either regeneration or healers to deal with the injury.”

“I know that too, but how . . .”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t try to unlearn what you’ve mastered. Instead, look into the skill that gives you the scar option. I’m not sure exactly how the system works - you know, with the way it’s supposed to work. However, my lifelong experience with the system has taught me that there was a synergy between the skills, regardless of which one you took. None of them completely negated the function of the other.”

“Tits!” I cried at my sheer stupidity. “I still think of skills from the perspective of someone who grew up without them.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing - I mean, in light of a new understanding of the system. After all, even I grew up without it in my head. It’s just that people tend to forget it very quickly - guilty myself.”

“Thanks,” I said, chewing on a lettuce, already lost in my own thoughts.

Based on what Sah told me, the problem was not with my regeneration, but with [Wrought Hide]. I had to learn how to use this skill to bring about a scar on my skin that would overcome the power of [Never-Dying].

Swallowing the greens, I silently cursed myself for once again thinking as if I was back in Echo, learning everything on my own under the guidance of my mentors. With the system in my head, there was no need to learn it from scratch. All I had to do was let it show me.

And so, even though [Wrought Hide] was a passive skill in essence, I triggered the active part of it while boosting my regeneration. A few breaths later, I stared at the small scar on my left arm.

* [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 94

A smile spread across my face. One small step in the right direction. Now it was time to find answers to the many questions that popped into my head with this success. Will this one scar make a difference in a fight with the mossbear? How big of a scar would it take to make a difference? Can the scar withstand Mother Mossbear’s healing? And last but not least, how do I learn this on my own, without being guided by the system?

But whatever the answers, good or bad, I was looking forward to finding them.