More.

I needed more.

I needed to eat, I needed to consume, I needed to create.

I needed to level up once more, so that when I had the ability to move around, I could then regain my autonomy, instead of being stuck here, babysat by a couple of rebel fools.

When Assface and Jenna left to sleep, I stretched out my "arm" to give it a test run. A little flap on the side of me flipped open, and my thin appendage crept out like a long worm, bending and twisting and reaching over the lip of a nearby crate. Though I couldn't see what I was touching, I could feel it. The smoothness of glass, the cool air, the grooves and ridges of the wooden container, the softness of the cork. I plucked a potion from the crate, and it lit the room in a faint aquatic glow.

I dropped it into me.

+1 Regeneration Potion (Uncommon), Level 10.

Hummmmm.

+100 Water Element

+10 Blood Element

+110 XP

Perfect. Though it didn't give me the full amount of experience--and even though I had no idea how the system would know--I was pleased to find I got something in return. I could've spent all night just stuffing my face with everything in the room, then spitting it back out, but I needed to wait. I needed to remain on their good side until I could get gone from here.

Instead, I spent the late hours of the night continuing to practice my dexterity, using my arm to move things around, etch into wood, dig into the floor, scratch any itches I might've had. By fanning out my "fingers," I could wave dust around, collect water, and even bitch-slap somebody if I needed.

By the time the morning sunlight peered in, I had mastered myself to the point that I was drawing on the floor with a piece of chalk. Poorly sculpted horses and cows--like caveman drawings.

The door clicked open, and I reeled my arm back in like rewinding a measuring tape. "So that's what all the noise was," Assface said. He stared down at me not with spite or anger, but with a hesitant fascination. There was a hint of fear and respect in his eyes. "I suppose you'll be moving soon."

I would've replied, but it seemed he wasn't looking for one. He simply stared with morning grogginess, almost sunbathing from the solitary line of light that slipped down his body. "You won't have to wait long. We'll be making bombs soon. I'm sure you can handle that."

Again, silence. When he was ready, he turned on his heels and left.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

***

Over the next week, Assface and Jenna would return late at night to feed me and retrieve my products, and in turn, I would continue to practice and experiment with alchemy.

The only thing I needed to create gunpowder with was some amount of the Fire Element, which was honestly tough to come by. I was unable to cast magic, but there are forms of trickery and cunning that could be used in its place. Smoke bombs, burning tar, regular bombs, big bombs, really big bombs, and my favorite--guns.

I had only ever used a gun a few times in the past. I never needed to. I always considered it a coward's weapon, mostly used by marching armies and line warfare. It had its uses, sure, mostly in hunting or sport, but I did acknowledge its niche. Most weapons would deal a predefined amount of damage to a person's protective aura, depending on the rarity and quality, but muskets and rifles were different. Its damage was calculated by the speed, size, and shape of the projectile, including the angle of penetration.

The world fascinated me sometimes, and I thought again of the Grand Magi who created it.

When I wasn't churning out illegal weapons for my hosts, I was entertaining them. Jenna was always elated at whatever random bullshit I could do with my new arm, including art, patty-cake, juggling, flipping her brother off, carving, scratching, patting her on the head, throwing paper airplanes, more head pats, more art, a terrible game of charades, and of course, even more head pats.

Usually, at the end of every night, the two siblings would be falling over themselves in laughter, tears in their eyes and clutching at their ribs with every funny joke or tale. With a chalkboard they had brought in, I would share with them stories--usually taken from my past--and they would be enthralled for hours. Even Thomas would stare with wide, childlike eyes, following along at the edge of his seat as I recounted the fight with the Mad Dragon.

"B-but, what happened next?" Jenna begged.

Krr, krr, krr, krrrr. "BEDTIME," the chalkboard read.

Thomas laughed "He's right. It is past your bedtime."

Jenna groaned dramatically. "Fine!" She hit me fake pouty-face to mask her heartfelt smile (she failed), then charged out of the room in mock anger.

Thomas's smile faded as he stood. He stared into me as I stared back, then his lips mouthed the words, "Imsi."

I remained silent. Part of me wanted to gloat about my accomplishments, to brag about how great I was for saving the nation, the world, several times over--but--the creature that stared up at this young man was... a trash can. A weak, near-useless recycling bin. He might've not believed me, he might've guffawed at my misfortune, he might've lost any and all respect for me for getting myself into this mess.

So I let the thought simmer.

And it did.

----------------------------------------

The next morning, they burst through the doors in a rush. With them, a crew of other rebels with hooded cloaks and nervous eyes converged on the crates and stacks of wartime supplies, carrying sloppy armfuls out the door.

"We have to hurry," rushed Thomas. "Get everyone into position."

One of the rebels cut in. "But what about–"

"Doesn't matter," Thomas continued. "It's now or never."

The room was a wild clusterfuck of shuffling feet and hurried whispers, and by this time, I was used to the peaceful silence of the morning. My irritation likely was tangible to all in the room, reflected back at me with passing glares and whispers.

Jenna knelt down to soothe me. "There, there, we'll be back soon. We'll play charades again tonight, and maybe you can continue that story."

My arm slid out, the fingers fanned wide, and I pet her gently on the head. She giggled in glee.

The tension didn't deflate. As soon as the noise came, it left. The silence returned. The quiet, the line of morning sunlight capturing the dust as it swirled past, the distant rumble of crowds and city sounds, and I was alone again, somehow eager to hang out with these two friendly commoners once they came back home.

They didn't return.