Rin clambered from the storm drain, smelling like refuse. His freshly dug tunnel had deposited him in the city’s underground, where he’d transformed multiple times to hide his trail. He sincerely hoped to be done with assassins for good.

If what that Markus said was true, my transformations cover my steps perfectly. And anyone following me will be looking for a giant spider, not a level 6 potato farmer.

He put the concern out of his mind to focus on more pressing matters, namely his grumbling stomach. After his stressful escapade inside the assassin’s guild, Rin felt justified in splurging a little with his newly rescued riches. With guidance from Trixie, he stumbled into the city’s restaurant district and lined up at the busiest place he could find. He even took pains to dress the part, conjuring clean clothes of the highest fashion, according to the tailors he’d met.

It was a good thing too, because he smelled so indescribably bad that the waiter looked him over several times with a discerning eye. His Cursed status didn’t help, and it was only when Rin flashed several gold coins around that the man reluctantly allowed him inside.

It was all worth it in the end. His meal of various grilled meats was the most sumptuous he’d had in his entire life.

His rising stench diverted his next steps to a nearby bathhouse, one the waiter had recommended with a sober expression and a vigorously nodding head.

I must really stink.

A whole silver spent there gave him access to a private bathing room with a tall barrel of steaming soapy water. He lounged there for two hours before conjuring a fire-type towel to dry himself off and a clean set of traveling clothes. Trixie was waiting for him in the empty hallway as he exited the room, the ghostly body of a limp frog in her grasp.

“There’s so much food here! Seriously, the tunnels beneath the restaurant district are a gold mine to spirits like me.”

Rin watched as the animal’s essence became her own. She sighed in relief, and her phantasmal outline brightened.

“Have you met any others?” asked Rin. “Like you, I mean?”

Trixie’s head tilted. “There was a moment when I brushed against something … otherworldly, I suppose you’d call it. A presence I could feel. I tried to get closer to it, but it ran away.”

“Just be careful, okay? If you can absorb the essence of weaker creatures, then maybe a more powerful phantom could do the same to you.”

Her floating gait froze. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I haven’t forgotten the rest of my promise. I’ll figure out how to get you some better gear. Somehow. A better sword might help you fight against something like that, I don’t know. For now, let’s find an inn for the night. I’m dead on my feet.”

“Same here!” Her laughter was loud and carefree.

Trixie activated her rogue ability, Sorronia’s Gift, vanishing into thin air as they exited the bathhouse. A five-minute walk was all it took to find the inn the waiter had recommended. It was one of the only establishments in the city with a special license to serve Cursed. The interior was sparsely furnished, but the place boasted a full breakfast service and was clean. By the time they arrived, Rin found he didn’t care one bit. He was so tired he could have slept in a pigpen without noticing. He hastily parted with another silver before stumbling upstairs to a room. He passed out as he hit the sheets.

Piercing rays of sunshine woke him the following morning, hitting him right in the face because he’d forgotten to draw the curtains. Trixie lay asleep beside him. The fact she slept at all was yet another mystery.

Maybe it’s because of our bond. Unless she’s pretending?

But Rin didn’t think so, because her face was contorted in an expression so unflattering most girls wouldn’t be caught dead with it. Then again, she was dead, so he supposed all bets were off.

He snuck down to breakfast and soon felt the tug on his soul, meaning Trixie was seeking his whereabouts. A few extra bread rolls went into his pack, and he asked for directions to Sonnig’s Magical Clothiers. Trixie caught up with him in the dark alley beside the inn. She was now level 27.

“Where to now?” she asked, yawning.

“I want to check on the tailors I met on the road. They have a shop here, and what they taught me about clothes really helped my wardrobe ability.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing a clothes store myself. These surface fashions are so different.” Her gaze darted aside as something scurrying in the alley caught her attention. “I’m going to grab a snack first. I’ll find you later.”

“Suit yourself.”

Rin exited the alley when a beggar seated on the ground caught his attention.

Bobby Corntassle

[CURSED] Level 5 Beggar

The older man was in his fifties. The fact that his status contained the word ‘Beggar’ meant he had been begging before he was cursed. For a very long time indeed. The man’s eyes roved over Rin with practiced efficiency, taking an instant measure of his wealth by how the boy dressed and carried himself. Rin saw the precise moment the man used Identify, watching his eyes widen when he noticed a fellow Cursed. The beggar cocked his head, appraising Rin anew.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Care to make a donation, sir?” he asked. “One for The Cause?”

“The cause? Of being Cursed?”

The beggar shuffled closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “We’re close now. Won’t be long. We have people on the inside, intensely loyal to … The Cause.”

“I still don’t understand. What cause?”

“Shhh! Don’t say it too loudly!” the man hissed. “Spies! Spies of the other gods are everywhere!” He clutched Rin’s arm, dragging the boy so close his tepid breath warmed Rin’s ear. “The secret ways of Craven.”

Rin pulled back in shock.

Is he talking about Craven’s secret path to power? I thought I was the only one!?

But the more Rin stared, the more he noticed things about the man that belied the truth of the matter. The beggar’s hands were gnarled, his feet scabbed, his body woefully malnourished. If he had discovered one of Craven’s paths to power, surely he would have used it to solve one of these lesser ailments, at the very least. There was one final way to tell for sure. A simple question.

“You don’t have any dungeon flowers, do you?”

“Eugh! Horrible tasting things! Why would you want one of those?”

Rin gazed at him with a mixture of sadness and pity, seeing his future self in the man’s plight had things played out differently.

He pressed a gold coin into the man’s hand.

“This is for your cause, not anyone else’s. And if you stumble across any dungeon flowers, bring them to me at Sonnig’s Clothiers. I’ll pay you handsomely for them.”

The beggar barely registered Rin’s words, his eyes full of wonder at the gold in his hand.

“Th-this is gold! Real gold!” His eyes finally peeled away from the metal to meet the boy’s gaze. “I’ll never forget this, Master Cartwright!” He leaped up and dashed away into the crowd, shouting, “Thank you, thank you!”

Rin shook his head and smiled. It felt good to help the man.

I didn’t need that much gold anyway.

Rin spent the next hour traipsing to the merchant district, ducking between horsedrawn carriages on thoroughfares and hopping over oily puddles of questionable contents. He was surprised at how dirty everything was. It wasn’t just the muck of the animals either. It was everything, from the sticky quality of the air to the sweat-soaked crush of humanity hurrying about, all within the overbearing humidity of the nearby swamps. He had to reconjure his shirt several times to stop it clinging to his back. Only when he stopped did he realize he could do far better, and he reimagined his clothes made from a combination of wind and ice-type materials.

The cooling effect was immediate and welcome, bringing an audible gasp to everyone in his vicinity. Some passers-by were so entranced that they started following him, uncaring of his destination or that he was Cursed, so long as they could experience a fraction of the cool breeze escaping his clothes. By the time he arrived at the tailors’ store, a gaggle of twenty people followed him inside, unwilling to leave his side even for a moment.

The scene made quite the entrance, particularly to the two burly men with their swords poised over the tailors’ throats at the front of the store. Rin stepped forward from the crowd, approaching cautiously when he saw the tailors’ raised hands and boggled eyes.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

The eyes of the two men darted between Rin, his hastily departing followers, and the two tailors. Now that Rin was closer, he could see their rippling biceps and squared stances. Their hefty but slow-moving frames reminded him of Jaxon, the assassin built like a tank.

“We’re being robbed,” said Mikka, ever the bold one.

“We’re not robbing you,” said the man on the left, grinning wide as he glanced at the last bystander exiting the store. “It’s a shakedown. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah,” sneered the one on the right. “This ‘protection’ of ours doesn’t come free. It’d be a shame if something happened to your pretty little shop.”

Rin triggered Identify.

Tom Saxon

Level 18 Bricklayer

Frank Baker

Level 19 Manual Laborer

The boy shook his head. The men were either very bold, very stupid, or both. They were antagonizing shopowners in broad daylight when anyone could Identify their real names at a glance.

Do criminals just run rampant in this city?

“I’ve seen enough,” said Rin, cracking his knuckles. “Who’s first?”

“Ha! This is a joke, right? A level 6 Potato Farmer?”

Rin flung his sleeve forward, and it lengthened into a whip that wrapped around the robber’s sword. The sleeve was made from a fabric called Pelt of the Thunderbeast. He’d been waiting to try it out.

The man wailed as his body spasmed with visible arcs of lightning. It continued for several seconds until smoke rose from his clothes and he fell unconscious.

Goon number two closed his awestruck jaws, raised his sword, and dove at Rin. The boy was ready for him.

These two are way slower than monsters.

With plenty of time to react, he used Partial Transmutation to transform his hand into that of the Shadow Weaver and fired a volley of steel webbing at the man’s face. The force of the blast caused the thief to physically somersault backward and crash into the stone wall.

Both robbers were disarmed and incapacitated within seconds. But Rin almost didn’t notice. He was still staring at the hand that had fired the webbing using Partial Transmutation.

“So that’s what it’s for!” he said, beaming as he launched another web shot at the robber’s chest for good measure.

I can use Partial Transmutation when observed. This changes everything!

He dismissed the ability so that his human hand reformed and he turned around to greet the Sonnigs. One look at their bewildered faces told him all he needed to know. They’d had a terrible day, and it wasn’t even noon.

“You two certainly get into a lot of trouble.”

Mikka humphed, while Horace gave him a look of genuine thanks, rubbing sweat from the nape of his neck. “You have no idea.”