By the end of the day, I had gained another point to Witchcraft, a point to Spell Foci, five points to Block, and a whopping 10 points in Wicked.

Congratulations! Your Wicked Skill level has increased from 'Apprentice' to 'Skillful'. 

Secondary Effect unlocked:  Successful transformations generate a moderate amount of self-healing to applicable areas.

The bonus was kind of 'meh', but I felt pretty satisfied regarding my progress as we turned to home. Just two more points in Witchcraft and, if the Prince was to be trusted, I would finally be eligible for Level Three advancement - and likewise, I hoped, continued survival.

I tried to practice my flight skill, sitting lightly on my broom and focusing on keeping up with the boys. But, after about five minutes, the peanut gallery couldn't take any more of my fumbling. *Wow, you're kind of shit at that," came a whispered smirk from Fuzzykin.

Leaning low across the wood, I snarked back, "If it's so very easy, I'd like to see you try." But I really, really should have known better.

I felt a foreign hand, grasping at my halting attempts at flight, and pushing me forcibly toward the guys. My own focus was directed to generating lift, while Fuzzy's was on generating force, and, between our pushing and pulling, the broom shot out into the woods.

Spinning in the air, accelerating even as I whirled around in over-under spins, it wasn't moments later that I saw the unflinching body of a large tree become very, very large in my vision.

I tried to pull away, but it just sent me spinning side to side as well as over-under, and... somehow... I actually seemed to be moving faster...

Critical Hit against Mim!

Critical Hit against Birch!

Mim is stunned.

Error: Birch is immune to 'stun' condition.

Skill increased! Toughness +1

Congratulations! Your Toughness Skill level has increased from 'Apprentice' to 'Skillful'. 

Additional Secondary Effect unlocked:  Resistance to non-magical damage, 0.4% per level. Skill requirement for 100% immunity to non-magical weapons: 250. Current skill requirement for 100% resistance to non-magical elements: 125 (Witch Level 2). Current skill requirement for 100% resistance to magical elements: 250 (Witch Level 2).

Ya. When I finally came too, I was staring up into Bushwar's face, and every bone in my body seemed to ache. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a confused expression, "You know, maybe you should try to get a handle on the basics before you start trying to do tricks like that." His hands pulling me shakily to my feet, "Thought we lost you there for a second."

Stumbling, I steadied myself with my hand on his chest. "Ya... I thought you might have too for a moment. Owie."

He didn't seem all that hesitant to get moving again, so I have myself a minute to once again catch my breath. Fuzzykin was hovering, up in the tree, hopping back and forth from one side to another.

I glared at her, as I turned to stumble back to camp and went straight to bed. I had, absolutely, had quite enough for one day.

But, even still, as I lay there, I soon found that I was bored and very much awake. I sat there, playing with myself... well, not like that really. Rather, I absently added kitty whiskers to my cheeks; I tried to make my feline finger-claws to be longer and sturdier; and, after much useless brainstorming (fleshstorming? Whatever), I managed to do something new.

The forced march to face the aberration was unlike any other I had known in my life. My legs and feet has been sore and still seemed to ache even though I had been quick to heal any damage incurred during the trip. And so, you can imagine my delight, when I finally found myself staring down at a perfectly created pair of silver hooves. 

They wouldn't be great in the way of stealth, I knew - but the sheer fact that the rocks and bends of the road would be impacting, not my soft skin, but hard bony hooves made my heart soar. Now, when I was marching with groups or raids, I felt that I would be much more able to keep up, without the excruciating pain of the days before.

Looking at them, though, it struck me how much I now looked like the villagers back in Oak Town. With their little, demon digits sticking out from otherwise human bodies. And, finally, it occurred to me to check my own nameplate.

"Fuzzykins," I whispered into the dark, knowing from experience that a cat should be able to hear from a good dozen yards away. "Fuzzykins, I need you."

It took some few minutes, but the little, animated broomstick finally sulked her way into the tent. She seemed to have no issues flying on her own now, and even as I appreciated the Majesty of her swooping through the tent door to hover in front of me, I worried what this was going to do to my hour-a-day flight limits. Still, I was glad that one of us was practicing. Devil knew that I wasn't making much progress in learning how to actually fly.

*Yes Molly?* Her voice purred angerly, *did you finally decide to apologize for flinging us into a tree?*

I coughed, silently, and rolled my eyes. "Yes, of course, my Lady. I only pray that you will be able to guide me in the future. So that someday, I may learn to fly almost as magnificently as yourself." It was cheesy, but cheese seemed to work with her - so whatever. And, I hoped, if I talked her up as being a better flier than I, then maybe she would be that much more motivated to get the damned function to work.

*Very well, we accept your apology. We suppose.* She pronounced. I could almost see her cleaning a dainty paw while she said it. *What can we do for you, Molly?*

I smiled sweetly, "I don't suppose you would be able to show me what my Status Bar looks like right now, could you? I'm having some troubles with my interface."

Fuzzykins sighed softly, hopping over closer to me and dropping her handle into my lap. *That's what we're here for Molly. We honestly don't know what you'd do without us, after all."

Macabre Mim

Level: 2

Race:  Catgirl (Local)

Appeared in front of my eyes, like any other status notification. Very interesting, very interesting indeed. It annoyed me that I hadn't been getting any bump to my deception, as apparently shape-shifting also cared with it some innate updates to my Status Bar, but it was something I could experiment with in the future. And, moreover, knowing how it was working unlocked some distinct possibilities. Some distinct possibilities indeed.

What worried me was, if my status bar updated with my appearance, did that mean my race changed to "Elf" when I was asleep? And, if so, just how many people had actually noticed without my realizing? This while I thought myself so safe with my face tied up in my belongings.

Then again, I had never been able to see someone's status bar, not unless I was also able to see their face. Had I? No, the whole method of checking a nameplate involved looking at a person's features, then moving your vision to the text on the right. So, in actuality, it was quite likely that I had unknowingly been hiding Name Plate as well as my face the entire time, without even thinking twice about it.

And, with that somewhat disturbing revolution of something so painfully obvious (yes I had been completely missing it from the very moment I found myself in this world), I came to a decision. If... no. When I leveled up next, I decided, I would invest some more points in intelligence. Another oversight like that, I realized, and I could very well wind up with my head on the chopping block before I could say,  'Lady Fuzzykins McBitchface'. 

Probably literally - it was, after all, kind of a mouth full.

The next day turned out to be some local version of a Sunday. My boys wanted to spend their time mending their gear and, maybe, playing a few rounds of the dice. I personally didn't much mind, I had some experiments in mind, anyway, that would be much better suited away from prying eyes.

I quickly unloaded my pack into my newfound dimensional pockets, while I was thinking about it. And I added the remaining silver from my purse beside. The water stacked up quite nicely, number going up as I added more waterskins - though the rope didn't look like it would stack at all in my inventory; and I was happy to see that, rather than taking up a slot, the silver coins simply created a money counter at the bottom of the inventory window.

I did grab a couple of the issued sewing kits on my way out. The little needle, and the linen thread, they would be quite handy for what it was that I had in mind. I also managed to grab a couple of spare metal tent pegs as I went. They were a cold iron make, it turned out, and they burned a little in my hands - but they suited my intent too well to leave them be.

As I had expected, my trek back to our clearing was much easier on my new pair of hooves. It would have been safer, I knew, to pad my way there on quiet feet. But I was too excited to try out the new digits, and so I just went ahead and took the risk.

As I approached the grove of bleeding harvests, some of the fruit appeared to have already ripened. After some pleading, I managed to convince Fuzzykins to practice her new, budding skill in flying by helping me soar up into the branches.

I did have to heal my head, more often than I would have liked, as she still didn't seem to have a grasp on how to maneuver - not without banging me bodily into every branch on the way up. I couldn't much tell if she was just learning, or whether she was doing it on purpose - so, for the moment, I just gritted my teeth and prayed that I wasn't going to be decapitated. 

It was worth the pain, though. After about half an hour, my pockets were filled with hands and kidneys and livers, and a nice little string of status updates was slowly fading from my vision,

Skill increased! Scavenging +1

Skill increased! Scavenging +1

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Scavenging +1

Skill increased! Scavenging +1

After our fruit-picking extravaganza, I hoofed  my way to the clearing. It was happy that I was finally leveling up some of my sub-skills and, I knew, I still had a plan to level them up a bit more.

It was, perhaps, wrong of me not to use my Resurrect on my dear, departed raid members. But I only had one chance to rip the chosen soul(s) from the great beyond and, while my plan required the resurrection to happen here, I had no desire for three of my guild members to set eyes on this place. Also, I had even less desire for them to see what I was going to do with my final, returned soul.

So, selfishly, I put the thought of further raid resurrections aside, and I pulled out my dried, aging nut and berry.

On a whim, I cast aside my Wicked enhancements altogether. As for myself, I stood waiting the ten, long minutes, with my pointed ears and naked feet. I wanted it to be my own face, my own hands, that cared out the coming, bloody work.

When the ten minutes were up, I also had finished my preparations. Arrol's naked body was nailed solidly down into the cold, bloody dirt. This was the one place, I figured, where his body parts could be used and discarded, that without it being obvious that there had been a murder. No, no. A few more hands or arms left lying about my grove would not look quite out of place at all.

I took a grim satisfaction in watching his eyes, as the first thing he saw, this time, was not my own face. But, rather, he found himself looking up into branches, at hearts and lungs and fingers growing quite naturally from the boroughs of the trees. First, there came disgust, then understanding, then horror... and, by the time he caught sight of me, the despair had grown to full, magnificent bloom.

"No," he whispered. His voice sounding horse, and it was shaking, just ever so slightly. The fear sounded so clearly, like the sweetest music to my ears.

I didn't bother saying a word. I simply took Fuzzykins and I regenerated the skin around his wrists and ankles. Healing the cold metal firmly into his flesh.

I took my razor, my old, trusty razor, and I began slicing him open - hip to neck. I made certain to stop and regenerate his body occasionally - not enough to close his wounds... but just enough so as to stop most of the bleeding as I worked.

When I was finished, I had his chest cavity wide open. All of his organs lay displayed in front of me, like many dishes at some great banquet.

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Interrogate +1

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I chuckled to myself, as the notifications popped up - as it was confirmed, with a grim certainty, that my day's work would not, in fact, be in vein. Oh, no. We were going to have a good time - he and me.

And, I hummed, sweetly as I could, every lullaby that I could remember, smiling as I started replacing his organs - working to quickly sew in the kidneys and livers and fingers that I had so diligently collected on my way here. I took a very special care to regenerate  the finished products so that the organs cleanly implanted into his body after my sewing was complete.

"Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight

With lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Interrogate +1

"Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed

Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Scavenging +1

"Lullaby and goodnight, thy mother's delight

Bright angels beside my darling abide

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Interrogate +1

"They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast

They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast

Skill increased! Anatomy +1

Skill increased! Scavenging +1...

And so we went on, for the rest of the day. I waited, patiently, for the sun to start to set before I tried some of the riskier operations. The lungs were replaced, easy enough. He always did have a spare, after all. But the heart... the heart didn't go quite so well.

No, by the time I had managed to crudely sew up the ventricles and start my channeling, he already had lost too much blood. And his now-cooling flesh gave up the ghost of his brief experiment with life, without even a fading sigh of breath. No regeneration spell in the world, I knew, would bring him back after that.

I leaned back against his cooling body, knowing that playtime was over but unwilling, just yet, to again hide my natural, elfin features and call it a night. So I cuddled up next to the ruin of his body, and I reviewed the status updates from a long, productive day.

Congratulations! Your Anatomy Skill level has increased from 'Apprentice' to 'Skillful'. 

Additional item descriptions unlocked.

Congratulations! Your Scavenging Skill level has increased from 'Apprentice' to 'Skillful'. 

'Rare' components may now be gathered.

Achievement:  'Mother of Bleeding Harvests' upgraded

Grove of Bleeding Harvests has increased to a (2) mile radius. 

Wait, though, there was something else here.... I reached out and quickly opened the flashing letter next to the text, again flashing red and spinning in my view:

Mim,

The Prince has been very taken with your work. In fact, he spent the entire day looking in on you, ignoring all else (much to the dismay of his administrative staff). I like your initiative, I really do! In fact, with him over the table like this, I have been able to negotiate a much more lucrative deal than even I was hoping!

In appreciation, I have decided to reward you in two ways. First, I will leave your 'Dreamer' Trait in play for the course of your natural life. It would really be more trouble to remove it than to leave it active, so don't thank me overmuch for that. Secondly, however, I have arranged to bestow a new perk, as a part of the buyout package. Generous, I know, and I trust that you shall talk me up to the Prince in return, should you ever have the chance.

Indeed, I expect you shall like me much better as a friend than an enemy. And I hope that you shall remember it.

Still better than you,

Bob XXXVII

I had barely even finished reading the letter when a new status update flashed across my screen in large red, Gothic letters. Someone had a bit of an edgy streak.

***Announcement***

Your soul has just been sold to the Demon Prince of your hell verse, Oro[xxx], from the Administrative Demon of Exulia - Bob XXXVII. All rights, privileges, and features of this ownership shall be transferred forthwith. (All sales are final)

New traits! 

Profitable Investment:  (Requires: Macabre Mim)

Sale of your soul was more profitable than initial projections had anticipated by a substantial amount. Good on you! 

Skill advancement penalties have been substantially reduced across all levels.

Beholden to the Demon Prince (Requires: Owned by a Level 6 entity)

Level and spell restrictions have been removed up to: Level 5.