I brewed a theory, a potential lightbulb momentarily illuminating my brain: just being in the presence of the Moonweaver had given my Enlightenment rate a turbo boost. No other explanation seemed plausible. It was like a godly cram session where the syllabus was the mysteries of the universe.

Now, the ominous [Metamorphosis Conditions] button beckoned, and I hesitated. The name hinted at something transformative, but it felt like I was about to dive into a magical contract without reading the fine print. Stalling was my game at this point.

Summoning whatever courage I had left, I mentally clicked [View]. The status screen blinked out of existence, leaving me in a state of "Umm?" I waited for the grand revelation, but nothing happened. I frowned, expecting at least a "Congratulations, you've unlocked the next tier" message.

Before I could fully process my confusion, a sudden rush of knowledge assaulted my brain, causing a headache that made my skull throb. I crumbled to my knees, clutching my throbbing head. But as swiftly as this wisdom gushed in, it retreated, taking the headache along with it. My body, now on autopilot, moved without my say-so.

[Adaptation] kicked in, turning my mundane nail into a white bone talon before my eyes. As if possessed, my hand moved with a purpose that wasn't mine – it proceeded to stab one of my fingers open.

Blood flowed. A crimson river escaping my finger.

My body, still under the spell of some sort of puppeteer, crouched down.

Macabre elegance. A hand transformed into a morbid quill.

It sketched intricate symbols on the floor using my own blood. I watched, fascinated, as a tree-like shape emerged, serpent-like branches spiraling around it, each adorned with a symbol.

Standing up after the eerie drawing session, my body still refused to relinquish control. A single droplet of my blood glowed with a bright crimson hue before floating towards the first symbol on the bloody tree I drew.

Regaining control over my own body felt like finally snatching the remote back from a sibling. It wasn't that I had lost control initially; it was more like I had willingly handed it over to something unseen (probably system). After all, I had long since accepted the peculiar quirks of the system. So, when my body decided to engage in a blood art exhibition, I wasn't exactly surprised.

I stared at the eerie red tree adorned with serpent-like branches and five symbols. Had I just unintentionally stumbled into a magical art class?

I knew each symbol held its own cryptic meaning, forming the blueprint for the [Metamorphosis] I had unwittingly set in motion.

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The first symbol, nestled in the center of the trunk resembled a reptilian slitted eye. My blood droplet had been drawn to this point. In the language of ritual doodles, it signified the "Attraction of Gaze."

Moving along the branches, the second symbol depicted claws grasping each other – a visual clue that I recognized as the second step. "Appeasing Them." I wondered who "Them" referred to – the mystical artsy creatures or my own restless brain.

The third step, marked by an open eye beyond a veil, spoke of the "Creation of Illusion."

The fourth symbol, a composition of clawed hands holding a heart pierced by a blade, seemed like a blend of "Control" and "Death."

Last but not least, perched atop the blood tree, the fifth symbol depicted a serpent rising out of shed skin – the symbolic "Rebirth." I wondered if this was what [Metamorphosis] hinted at? My upcoming career as a metaphorical snake shedding its 9-to-5 skin?

As the other symbols lay dormant, one particular reptilian eye on the trunk glowed with an eerie vitality. It was umm, alive, or at least animated for lack of a better term. Most would find it terrifying, but I, being the unconventional villainess that I was, found it impressive and wicked.

While pondering the blood art on my floor, the pesky [Adaptation] decided it was time for an encore. It was like an annoying friend saying, "Hey! Hey! Hey, remember that wound you gave yourself? Let me fix that for you. It's bleeding! Bleeding is bad! Let me fix it! LET ME FIX IT! LETMEFIXIT!"

Okay, okay! Sheesh, [Adaptation] really needed a chill pill.

Without much thought, I triggered it, and as if choreographed by some mystical physician, the wound visibly healed.

Another informative report by [Adaptation] landed in the mental trash bin.

The bone talon of my finger, which had sprouted against my will earlier, receded to its normal state. The whole [Adaptation] affair left me both intrigued and perplexed. I mean, sure, I knew it could perform magical first aid, but growing bone talons? That was a new trick.

There was potential for some serious body horror, and [Adaptation] was clearly harboring more secrets than a Pandora's box, I figured I'd understand it all in due time. The bigger issue at hand – or on the floor – was the eerie blood symbols adorning the room. Even a toddler could deduce that something other than a tea party had occurred in the chamber of this noble lady. If anyone were to stumble upon my macabre masterpiece, I'd be in a tight spot.

Surveying the room, my brain flickered with the idea of some interior decorating. A metaphorical light bulb above my head suggested it was high time for some furniture rearrangement. After all, what better way to hide eerie blood ritual than with a well-placed bookshelf or a strategically positioned unicorn plushie?

Hehe. But wait a minute. Did this world even have plushies?

My enthusiasm dipped momentarily as I realized I might be deprived of the comforting presence of magical stuffed animals. As a novice dark mage, I was well aware that at the intermediate level, dark mages could cast animation hexes on dolls and plushies.

There was a reason we were called witches, after all.

I couldn't help but daydream about an emporium filled with cuddly enchanted creatures, pondering if my local fantasy Walmart had a designated aisle for stuffed animals.

With a sense of urgency, I rushed outside, relieved to find no prying eyes. Hastily closing the door behind me, I barricaded it with a plush chair for good measure.

Turning back to survey the room, my gaze shifted from the carpet to the blood painting adorning the floor. Welp, time to start the redecoration before anyone comes snooping in.