Remicra's intense gaze bore into him, her scales shifting to a deep, suspicious green.

"I'm not hiding anything," he said, knowing full well how unconvincing he sounded.

Remicra's tail lashed angrily behind her.

"Explain then," she snarled. "You're not going anywhere until morning. Try anything unwise and I will break you."

Dave took a deep breath, weighing his options. He couldn't tell her the full truth about his necromantic abilities, but perhaps a partial truth might satisfy her curiosity. Sherlock's violin played a relaxing symphony in his soul, suggesting he put his trust into the dragon blacksmith. Dave noticed that there was no black bracelet on her hand, nor a token ID number that would tell him how much in debt she was.

"Okay," he began. "I already told you that a few days ago, I was summoned to Arx by a magic spell by a crazy God-Emperor. Since then, I've been trying to figure out how things work here, how to survive."

"Uh-huh?"

"Here's the thing, when a minion of the God-Emperor forced me to put on this black bracelet..." Dave waved his bracelet at Remicra. "It gave me a rather unusual skill. Because of it, I can sort of... redistribute my Attributes. That's why my grip was so strong - I put everything into Strength when you tried to hit me."

"I wasn't trying to hit you. It was sort of an... impulsive hand-motion," Remicra flashed orange-pink. "Also, redistribute Attributes? What are you talking about? Attributes are static."

"Not for me," Dave shook his head. "I can move everything around."

"Wait... now I remember. You've had this incredibly grating Charisma too... but now there's nothing at all, huh," the dragoness blinked, her face growing slack. "Last time it vanished altogether too, but I was too annoyed with you to pay attention."

"My Attributes are fluid," Dave commented.

"You're lying," Remicra snarled. "That's not how it works! You can't just get a skill as soon as you put on a System bracelet. To gain skills, you must kill a multitude of dangerous enemies and absorb a fraction of their magic. It's basic knowledge! Also, a person's level correlates to the level of their Attributes."

Dave held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I swear, I'm telling you the truth! I know it sounds impossible, but—"

"Impossible is right," Remicra interrupted. "Do you take me for a fool, human? I've been around long enough to know how things work on Arx. You don't just wake up one day with the ability to 'redistribute' your skills. Skills come from what you eat and what you kill and who your parents are. If you were only summoned here a few days ago then you shouldn't have any skills at all!"

"Look, I don't fully understand it myself. Maybe it's because I'm from another world, or maybe it's something to do with how I was summoned. All I know is that I can do it," Dave said.

"Prove it, then. If you can really 'redistribute' your Attributes, show me!"

Dave nodded. "Alright, watch me."

He concentrated on shifting all his points into Agility. As he did so, he felt the familiar rush of energy coursing through his body.

"Agility," Dave said, noting that Remicra was watching him. Without taking a run, he suddenly leapt over a workbench, tapped beam on the tall ceiling and landed lightly on his feet on the other side.

"Ta-da!" Dave declared at Remicra. The smith's gold-violet eyes went wide. "What in the Infinite Abyss?" she muttered.

Dave moved around the smithy, his movements still unnaturally light. "Now," he said. "Strength!"

He pushed everything into Strength and he walked over to a large anvil sitting in the corner. With a grunt of effort, Dave lifted the anvil off the ground. It was incredibly heavy, but with all his points in Strength, he managed to hoist it above his head.

Remicra blinked as Dave slammed the anvil back onto the ground.

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"Charisma!" Dave took a deep breath and shifted all his points into Charisma.

Remicra choked as she felt the full force of Dave's Charisma wash over her. Her entire body suddenly shimmered with a soft pink hue. A furious pink blush crept across her face and hands as she found herself unable to look away from Dave's suddenly captivating gaze.

"I... what... how..." she mewled, her usual eloquence deserting her.

Horrified by her own reaction, Remicra slapped herself hard across the face, which injected red-orange spirals into her body palette.

"Dexterity!" Dave announced and quickly switched everything into Dexterity. He grabbed a handful of small pebbles from a nearby bucket. With fluid, precise movements, he began juggling them between his fingers, the stones dancing across his knuckles in an intricate pattern.

Remicra watched as the rocks flowed like water across Dave's hands, never faltering, never dropping.

"You know, this is pretty impressive to me too," he commented. "Since... I've never been a juggler."

"Not possible," Remicra muttered, her tail twitching.

"I know it seems that way," he said. "But, this is what I've been trying to explain."

He suddenly tossed all the rocks high into the air, then caught them one by one, stacking them in a perfect tower on the back of his hand. With a flourish, he let them tumble back into his palm and then deposited them back into the bucket.

Remicra shook her head, her scales shifting through a kaleidoscope of colors as she processed what she was seeing.

"Enough," she said, her entire body dancing with waves of pink and red.

"So?" Dave watched as Remicra bit her lower lip.

"I... I believe you," she said after a deep pause. "Now, what is Healers Hall suspicious of?"

"I showed something that scared them, I think," Dave explained. "I bonded with a level thirty four Vitalix earlier today to heal some of my cuts. That's part of why I thought I might be able to bond with a Ferrix to help with the Felislice flake extraction."

"Hrmmm," the dragoness pondered. "This level thirty four Vitalix you bonded with... how much did it cost you to rent it?"

"It was seventeen silver for an hour," Dave replied. "Not cheap, but it was worth it for the healing I managed to do. I'd be bleeding to death right now if it wasn't for Healy."

"So, you've got seventeen more coin on you somewhere?" Remicra asked, eyeing the red number on his token.

"Uhm, actually... no," he sighed. "I don't have any money right now. I'm kind of in debt."

"So," Remicra asked, "how exactly do you plan to earn the silver before the living metal kills you? You do realize that an hour isn't enough to pull out all of the flakes out of you? It will take multiple sessions over the weeks to clean up your body and the sooner we can start the better it will be for you."

"I don't know," he admitted. "To be honest, I've been so focused on surviving day to day that I haven't had much time to think about long-term plans."

"Such shortsightedness," she muttered. "Do you always rush headlong into danger without a thought for the consequences?"

"Hey, it's not like I asked to be thrown into this world!" Dave protested. "I'm doing the best I can with what I've got!"

Remicra yawned then, her jaw opening wide to a row of sharp teeth.

"Right," she said. "I'm tired of your nonsense and have lots of work tomorrow. Follow."

She grabbed a bundle of cloth from a corner.

Dave trailed behind the smith as they ascended the narrow, winding stairwell that coiled like a serpentine spine within the ancient tower.

"This is your room," she announced as they entered a room shrouded in the musty pallor of disuse.

"Thanks," Dave surveyed his newfound surroundings, noting the glaring absence of a bed. The loft looked long forsaken, the passage of decades evident in the layers of dust that blanketed every surface.

"This is not a tavern. Don't think about staying here beyond a single night. Do not attempt to make yourself at home." Remicra gestured towards a dark mound of moss nestled in a corner beneath a red pyramid-shaped rune, tossing the random assortment of old cloths on the floor. "Rest there. Do not make noise, lest you incur my wrath. Do not go downstairs or upstairs to the roof. The bathroom is in that corner. Depart at daylight. Understand?"

Dave nodded.

With a final flick of her sinuous tail, the dragoness took her leave, heading downstairs. Dave let out a weary exhale that seemed to echo through the abandoned chamber, feeling like he had been transported into a fantasy land with questionable hygiene standards. He sat down on the mossy lump that was supposed to pass for a bed and contemplated how he ended up here.

He could feel the dust particles tickling his nose, and the air was thick with the musty scent of decay. Dave wondered if he was going to develop some kind of respiratory disease but shrugged it off.

As he pulled a ragged blanket over himself, he glanced at its questionable texture and considered if any unwashed creatures had used it before him. The toilet was a hole in the wall that faced a chasm, which made going to the bathroom an unusual adventure.

Dave wrapped himself in the rough and questionable fabric, gritting his teeth as it scratched against his skin.

"Well, at least this place has a roof," he thought, trying to find the silver lining.

He spotted glittering lights of distant thermonuclear detonations through a few holes in the roof.

With a heavy sigh, he finally surrendered to sleep, hoping to dream something a little brighter than his current reality.