“I should’ve chosen a different ascension.”

Claire tossed and turned as she lay about atop the horn. Thirty minutes had passed since she had defeated the lifegiver, but she had yet to touch the hexstone. The entire half-hour was spent trying to fall asleep, but she couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how often she fidgeted about.

Every position she fathomed came with its fair share of problems. Lying on her side didn’t work because her upper body was thinner than the moose-like base that supported it. There was an awkward gap between her flank and the ground, and it felt like she was putting too much of her weight on her shoulders. She tried getting around the problem by sleeping like a horse, with her legs tucked beneath her and her gut resting on the ground, but soon found the approach equally as untenable. Her upper body was left unsupported. She could keep it in position if she actively stiffened it, but the moment she started dozing off was the moment it would start slouching. She would lean forward, her arms would hang, and she would be jolted awake.

The halfbreed was so desperate that she even tried sleeping on her back, which, of course, ended in abject failure. Her humanoid half was surprisingly flexible; it wasn’t impossible for her to lie atop the horn’s smooth, iron surface with her spine stretched all the way out, but it was certainly as uncomfortable as uncomfortable could get. There was a tiny ridge right where her two backs connected, and the way it jutted out made it impossible for her to lie flat. It was like there was an arm between her spine and the hardened surface that had become her bed.

“What if…” Urged on by a sudden flash of inspiration, the lyrkress turned back onto her side and tucked her tail into the empty space that bothered her. It was the perfect solution until it suddenly wasn’t.

The prehensile appendage was struck by a wave of pain and numbness before her consciousness could fade. The prickling sensation that stemmed from the fluffiest part of her body spread throughout her rear every time she so much as twitched; her tail had fallen asleep before her.

Claire smacked a fist against the ground as she pushed herself up into a seated position. She was already sick of her new form. Much of the fault lay with the insensitive borrok. Her prey’s illusions had drained her of the elation that had come with her ascension.

Worse yet, she had fallen for the trick despite being fully aware of its falsehood. Her father had been nothing but a hallucination born of her own mind. But she had still collapsed. Right in front of him. Like a helpless, newborn foal.

Sighing for the thousandth time, the bluescale walked towards the hexstone with her half-asleep tail trailing behind her. Moving without the help of the snakier part proved surprisingly difficult. She had to turn her flippers into a second pair of legs to prevent herself from falling over.

The environment shifted as she pressed a hand against the runic monument. Unlike both the previous instances, the vector mage was able to perceive the spell at work. She knew little of the theory that went into transporting one’s consciousness, but she could feel the countless complex threads pulling at the very fibre of her being as she answered the head librarian’s summons.

“You’re late.”

Alfred greeted her with a smirk as the transfer completed, a wide mocking grin akin to that of a child.

“The quest has plenty of time left.”

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t expecting you earlier.” He fiddled through the documents on his desk as he spoke. “I didn’t think you’d waste a day fiddling around with clothes. Most of the others panic and run off the moment they see the timer.” His hands eventually settled on a particularly crumpled piece of parchment covered in three different kinds of illegible text. “Read this. We can save the talking for when you’re done.”

The page slowly floated over, bobbing through the air as would a jellyfish in the water. Claire tried to reach for it, but it disintegrated before her fingers made contact.

Hello, trial-goer, and congratulations. You have found a third set of instructions. Llystletein is a challenging environment, in which even the best may find it difficult to thrive, but know that the librarians will always be present and willing to provide you with guidance. All you need to do is seek them and ask.

“Another thing that I wasn’t expecting was for you to kill the watcher.” The old mage started talking almost immediately after she finished listening to the goddess. “You would’ve made it to Borrok Peak a full day earlier if you had let him show you around.”

“Which one? There were lots of watchers.”

“The one you killed, of course.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Right… of course. I nearly forgot you were murder incarnate.” Alfred shook his head as he emptied his pipe atop a small earthenware plate. “I was referring to the first one you met. You do realize that he was meant to be your guide, yes? That was his lot in life, his sole purpose.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m guessing you don’t care much for the borroks either then?”

“Not at all.”

“Really? You aren't even the slightest bit curious? I know for a fact that the sentinel mentioned a few interesting tidbits before he died. He was a bit of a loudmouth, that one. Oh, and before you ask, that wasn’t meant to be criticism. I always do find it a pleasure to see a borrok develop its own personality.”

Claire stayed silent. The old man was clearly looking to rant, and she figured that she could use his outburst as leverage further down the line.

“You see, they were meant to be a more monster-like species, a minor experiment if you will. I was mixing feline features with primate ones so I could figure out all the quirks ahead of any more important procedures.”

The old man tapped his empty pipe against his desk. The seemingly sentient wand descended from a nearby bookcase and started waving itself around. With a short series of flicks, it opened a drawer, retrieved a set of dried leaves, and relit the old man’s pipe before returning from whence it came.

“I was planning to discard them after wrapping everything up, but one thing led to another, and I realized that I was going to need to make monsters for people like you to hunt,” he said, as he leaned back into his chair. “The system’s current iteration is quite interesting in that it doesn’t normally quantify a number of stats that relate to intelligence and the ego, except when risk is involved.” He flashed a cold smile. “I’m sure you’re starting to see where this is going.”

“You made them sentient so they’d be better cannon fodder.”

“That I did,” he said. “To be more precise, I gave them the capacity to learn, which is often considered more valuable than a true sense of self.” Alfred put his hands together and leaned forward as he puffed on his pipe. “The metrics seem to suggest that it’s much deadlier, on average.”

“Okay. I don’t care.”

“Really? Even after all that?” Alfred sighed and slowly shook his head.

“I know you’re just trying to rile me up.”

“That’s normally supposed to make it even more offensive,” complained the old man.

Claire shrugged.

“Well, there goes all my fun. Plans A through E out the window, just like that.” He propped his face up against one of his fists as he sulked. “Is there any chance I can get you to openly judge me and yell at me for being a selfish prick anyway? It’s been a long while since I last had the chance to relish the opportunity.”

“No.”

“Please? I’ll even give you some ability points if you step on my face.”

Claire paused for a moment to blink. “No.”

“And why not?”

“You’d enjoy it.”

“So uncooperative…” The prehistoric human slowly shook his head. “Fine, you win. Go ahead and ask your questions. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“Do I get any more quests?”

“Finish the one you’ve got first. Then we’ll talk,” he said, as he took a long drag from his pipe. “Anything else?” asked the celestial.

Claire paused for a moment before crossing her arms in front of her. Since she was in spirit form, the position worked surprisingly well. Her arms were able to fade right through her icy chest spike. “How am I supposed to sleep?”

“By closing your eyes and contemplating the futility of your meager existence, of course. How else?”

Claire looked down at her body so that she could point to the different sources of her discomfort, only to find herself two-legged. She was back to being a plain old halfbreed, which both confused and alarmed her. Neither emotion was shown on her face, but the old celestial had somehow understood that there was something to be done.

“Ah, yes. Your avatar isn’t up to date. One second.”

He leaned forward and started fiddling with some of the things on his desk as his wand looped through the air, drawing runes of pure mana. One brief flash of light later, the rogue found herself staring at the brim of the man’s hat. She was barely taller. Even though he was seated.

“The Llystletein subsystem is hooked up to the core the same way all the others are, but it’s got a few quirks that I never bothered ironing out.” Leaning back into his seat, the human took a long drag from his pipe. “What were you saying again?”

“I don’t know how to sleep. Nothing feels right.”

“Typical centaur pains,” he said, with a chuckle. “The first step would be to not sleep on top of an interdimensional mountain. Just find yourself a waist pillow or something once you get back down onto the ground.”

“Where am I supposed to get one of those?”

“Well, you could ask the foxes to make you one, or you could go looking for the settlement on the third floor. Either way works.”

“The citadel?”

“That’s what they call it, yes. It’s a bit of a silly name, considering that they’ve simply repurposed a small run-down fort, but it’s not my business to tell them how they should be referring to their things, I suppose.”

Claire frowned, but didn’t comment any further. “Okay. You can send me back now.”

“Really? That’s all? You don’t have any more questions?”

“None.”

“You can trust me more, you know?” The old man heaved a sigh. “But I doubt me saying that is going to do much for your opinion.”

Claire nodded.

“Before you go,” said the old man, “there is one thing I want to ask you.”

“What?”

“Where did you get your spirit guardians?”

“From my vector mage class,” said the halfbreed, matter-of-factly.

“The class is supposed to come as a blank slate. You need to find spirits and form contracts with them if you wish to tap into their powers.”

Claire shrugged. “No idea then.” She had always thought of the two of them as mere figments of her imagination. They were never supposed to be real.

“Strange, very strange indeed.” Alfred pulled his hat forward and obscured his eyes as he started to mumble. “Llystletein doesn’t contain any spirits that prefer projecting themselves as horses or snakes, and it’s effectively cut off from the outside world. I’m not sure how it’s possible for you to have contracted them,” he said, as he raised a hand to his chin. “Well, either way, I think I’ve kept you here long enough. I can figure the rest out on my own. Off you go.”

With a light wave of the hand, the celestial unbound the lyrkress’ soul and returned her to her physical form.

The same mind-numbing sensation afflicted her, but it faded in an instant, leaving Claire to stretch as she re-entered her body. She extended her tail as far as it would go, raised her arms overhead, and pushed her legs forward. It was an odd set of movements, not the sort she would’ve been willing to perform in public, but it did a good job of loosening up everything from her stiffened shoulders to her missing hind legs.

Though still annoyed and far from rested, the halfbreed turned around and exited the pyramid’s penthouse. Stepping onto an elevated platform, she found herself staring down at a crowd of borroks. There were a thousand of them gathered in the atrium. Rotbloods, mages, and warriors were all present and accounted for, many of which had their hands clasped and heads bowed in prayer.

But that all came to an end as she stepped forward. The swarm began buzzing and hooting as it scattered to the winds. Even without the horrified shrieks, it was evident that her survival—the lifegiver’s death—was not in line with their hopes.

Claire fiddled with her tail’s feathered tip as she spiralled down the staircase. Though it seemed like an incredibly simple process, she found herself struggling to descend. Every downward step she took would leave her upper body pitched at an awkward angle. It almost felt like she was falling, even though her serpentine rear was keeping her grounded. She wasn’t able to speed up until she realized that she could get rid of her legs. Playing snake allowed her to forgo the steps altogether and slither down the central support.

Log Entry 1763
Lyrkrian Shapeshifting has reached level 3.

The bloodthief continued experimenting with her body as she hit the ground. For her next experiment, she became more centaur-like and grew out both her front and back legs. She was somewhat hesitant to get rid of her beautifully plump tail, but soon replaced it with a pony-like equivalent in the interest of keeping her frame sleek and light.

She started running as soon as the transformation was complete. Galloping proved about as easy as slithering. Her body somehow knew what it had to do, even though her mind did not. The murals whooshed by, but the halfbreed’s newly improved eyes kept her surroundings from blurring. She could still observe the paintings as easily as she could whilst not in motion. She felt like she had all the awareness in the world. But not even that was enough to stop her from running straight into a wall. Despite having lived amongst centaurs all her life, the halfbreed had forgotten that they weren’t the most adept at suddenly stopping or turning on a dime.

The pyramid’s wall had taken the Claire-shaped battering ram surprisingly well. There were a few small cracks here and there, but as a whole, the meter-thick ice had remained undamaged. Likewise, Claire was hardly any worse for wear. Her head was spinning, but her flesh was perfectly intact.

After taking a moment to shake away the dizziness, the vector mage pressed her arms against the wall and pushed herself away from it. Or at least she tried. Her body didn’t budge, no matter how hard she tried to pry herself off the ice, and it took looking down to reveal the nature of the problem.

The thorn in her chest was stuck. More than half of it was wedged inside the wall, and pushing on the structure did absolutely nothing to help. She tried wiggling her way out, but that was equally as ineffective.

Plan B, punching the wall, was just as unsuccessful. There wasn’t enough room between the halfbreed and the fortification for her to use all her strength. She tried bashing it with her tail, but the same problem continued to plague her.

“Shoulderhorse.”

Left with no other choice, Claire called upon her spirit guardian.

“Hello, Claire! Quite the interesting predicament you have yourself stuck in,” said the equine, as it materialized. “But do not worry. I, the magnificent Shoulderhorse, shall see it solved in a heartbeat!”

“Shut up and do it already.”

At her command, the horse activated its ability and started inhaling. But it was not the wall that was subsequently consumed.

The imaginary pony spun around in circles as it was pulled straight into a point of space within its own mouth, shrieking all the way. Claire was by no means exempt from the backlash. The joint holding her shoulder to her chest had its nerves lit aflame; the limb was twisted out of shape and dematerialized, sucked inside the horse’s gut. Having failed to anticipate the sudden torment, the halfbreed howled as she tried to escape its source. But she couldn’t. She was still stuck.

“Shoulderhorse! You useless idiot!”

She wasn’t able to move until the black hole ate through half her chest. Her lungs, ribs, and innards were all torn to bits as blood poured from her open flank. The shard of true ice was the only part still intact. It remained stuck in the wall, even as she was finally able to pull herself away. Her wounds looked bad, life-threatening even, but glancing at her status page, she found that she was only missing about a third of her total. Her health regeneration would take care of the injury in due time. All she needed to do was sit around.

“What just happened?” It took a moment for the halfbreed to process that the equine’s ability would backfire when it attempted to consume a spell that she lacked the mana to handle. And it was only then that she recalled that the pyramid was an interdimensional mountain-building that was made and maintained with magic.

Groaning, she pushed herself against a different part of the wall and leaned on her shoulder. The wound wasn’t lethal, but it was certainly awful. She couldn’t breathe; it was hard for her to put any strength into any of her limbs. Even her tail was rendered mostly unresponsive. It took everything she had to stop herself from screaming. There wasn’t enough adrenaline in her system to dull the pain.

“At least I can cross my arms again.”

The thought crossed her mind as soon as it was clear enough for there to be something beyond the burning agony. She looked down at her chest with a forced smile, only to grimace as she found the shard returning with her flesh and bone.

“...Stupid pony. Can’t do anything right.”

Grumbling and complaining, Claire laid around while her wounds healed. She didn’t stand up until she was confident that she was finally stable, at which point she rearranged her cloak to minimize the indecent exposure. The gaping hole left in the fabric was massive, but not problematic so long as it was rotated behind her. Thankfully, the garment didn’t have any sleeves. Its hood was its only strictly defined feature, and tearing it off was all she needed to turn the dysfunctional garb into one that could be worn in any which way.

Once she was sure that she was at least presentable, she shifted into a pure centaur again and returned to galloping around the building, albeit not at her top speed. She ran a few laps to restore her confidence before exiting the perfectly rectangular doorway and making a beeline for the nearest restroom. Shouldhorse was summoned mid-process and ordered to consume every non-interdimensional building she happened to cross.

The first lavatory she found was already occupied—a problem she quickly resolved with a kick. The unfortunate bug-monkey was sent spiralling straight down the pit, broken wings and all. Taking a moment to peek over the edge, she took a deep breath, transformed herself into a humanoid and joined it on its trip to hell.

Her descent was accompanied by a rapid change in the environment, albeit one accompanied by a surprising lack of discomfort. Her scales were only warmed, not burned, even as she kicked off the filthy ladder and landed on the shore. The borrok was not nearly as agile. It fell straight into the cesspit and burst into a ball of flame as it made contact with the infernal wastewater. Its body was rapidly consumed, spirited away by a thousand layers of brimstone. The only reminder of its presence was a subterranean explosion, a tiny detonation that caused a bubble to rumble to the fiery surface.

Log Entry 1764
You have slain a level 21 borrok.

After stopping to thoroughly wash her hands, the rogue undid her transformation and wandered over to the lava’s edge. She knew that it was unsanitary, but she needed to confirm her resistance before moving forward with her plan. Scrunching up her nose, she extended her tail and inched it towards the magma. Only as she came within a few inches of it did she finally begin to feel the rising heat. It felt like she was holding the limb above a boiling cauldron. The steaming gas bothered her, but not enough for her to feel the need to pull her tail to safety. One final nervous gulp later, she pressed forward and dipped the whole feather duster into the igneous solution.

Log Entry 1765
Thermodynamic Regulation has reached level 3.

There was hardly any pain; it only hurt as much as it would to pick a fresh scab. A quick glance at her status confirmed the lack of harm—the experiment had only cost her a scant few points of health.

The rogue began washing her tail as she scanned the environment. Her destination, the only place with its icy tubes sealed shut, was in plain sight.

Claire reverted to her bipedal form as she drew near. It wasn’t perfect—she looked a full three or four years older, standing at roughly a hundred-and-fifty-centimetres to her previous one-thirty—but neither was the whale’s sense of sight.

Her eyes closed, the halfbreed took a moment to shift gears. She did away with her neutral, low-effort poker face and put on the sort of emotional mask that she often reserved for the high nobility. With the circumstances as they stood, the halfbreed chose to begin with a sneer, as would a spoiled brat.

“Who dares intrude upon my domain?”

No sooner had she stepped beneath a sealed pipe than the whale burst from the ground. Just as it had on her previous encounter.

“It’s me. The thing that isn’t a borrok.” She stared straight at the hulking behemoth as she spoke. “I killed the corruptor.”

“Hah! Nonsense!” Bits of rock fell from the ceiling as the whale laughed. “If you managed to kill him, you would have my staff.”

“I do.”

“You do?” The volcano spirit sent a pulse of raw magical energy through the environment as it leaned forward and turned an eye on her. “Now that… is a surprise. Yes… yes! I can sense it! But it feels… strange... changed.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to tell you,” said Claire. “Sometimes, things don’t exactly go according to plan.”

“What has happened to it!?” The ground rumbled as the whale pounded it with a flipper. “Explain immediately!”

“Well… about that,” said the halfbreed, with a dark chuckle. “It’s not getting fixed. I’ve already absorbed it.”

Claire pulled her cloak closer to her chest and allowed the shard to rip through the fabric. She channelled her magic through the catalyst as she revealed it, entreating it to glow with an icy blue light.

“No… you didn’t! You couldn’t have!”

The whale pushed itself forward with its flippers as it spoke and focused its tiny eyes on the shimmering object within the humanoid’s chest.

“Did you really think I was going to give it to you? How stupid are you?” Claire cackled, loudly, dramatically. The laugh was so haughty that she even managed to annoy herself. “You didn’t even promise me a real reward.”

“You lie! I sai—”

She cut the whale short by magically seizing its tongue.

“I don’t care what you said,” snickered Claire. “Do you really think you can offer me something that’s worth more than an elemental power source?”

Her taunts were working. The oversized cetacean hadn’t reacted at first, but the lava levels started to rise as soon as it got over its initial shock. Everything was bubbling, and the mountain itself even seemed like it was starting to shake. It was angry. But not angry enough.

“The only thing you could possibly give me is your blessing.”

“If you know that, th—” Again, the monster’s tongue was forced back into its throat.

“But even that’s worthless. The most a lesser spirit like you could give would be a single point of strength.”

“I am not a les—”

“I’d rather be blessed by a borrok.”

“Cease this immedi—”

“At least they’re smart enough to know not to live in cesspits. Do you think their priests are any good? They’re bound to be better than a lesser spirit, at least, right?”

“Enough! I have had enough!” The whale shouted as several nearby pools erupted into pillars of magma. “I will not stand to be insulted by the likes of you!”

It shot a dozen spears of flame at her, but Shoulderhorse negated them all. The hexes only cost Claire a pitiful hundred mana apiece. Its subordinates had joined in on the assault as well, but their attacks, she ignored. The fire that left their mouths passed her by like a cool breeze, lighting only her clothes aflame. Even that was soon negated. She enabled her aura, chilling her surroundings and nulling their flames.

Log Entry 1766
Thermodynamic Regulation has reached level 4.

“Give it up. You can’t hurt me,” she said, with another cocky grin.

It was a bluff. She would soon be overwhelmed if it kept up its barrage. But it was unaware of her limitations. Never before had it encountered a creature capable of outright obliterating its magic. The phenomenon was so impossibly peculiar that the beast never stopped to consider that it could have been limited in scope. 

“Impossible! You’re just a low-level rogue! You weren’t even fifty the last time, and you’re hardly any different now!”

The skill the whale relied on was one Claire knew well. It was called Eye of Perception, and was often held by monsters capable of commanding others of their species. It was why the corruptor had looked at her the way it did, as well as the reason the whale had been able to guess her level. It was an ability common enough to be documented and known—an ability that returned the approximate level and grouping of the target’s primary class.

“Eye of Perception doesn’t work if you’re outclassed.” Claire undid her transformation as she lied. In a matter of moments, her body turned from that of a halfbreed to that of a serpentine cervitaur. “You couldn’t even see through my disguise. Did you really think your magic could outdo mine?”

She pointed a finger at the nearest wall and ordered Shoulderhorse to empty the contents of its stomach. The massive glob of ice that resulted crashed through the mountain’s wall and left a gaping hole in its magma chamber. Had the mountain’s lord been in its right mind, it would have been able to determine that the projectile did not stem from the magical source she implied. But being so rattled, it failed to interpret the display as anything but an overwhelming show of force, proof that she had already mastered the shard whose powers it would have needed months to recombine.

The halfbreed pulled one of the dolphins straight into the palm of her hand. The whale tried to assist it by slapping her with one of its flippers, but the attack was too slow. She evaded it with a lazy, half-attentive hop.

“Your stupidity is what got Herk killed.” With a smile on her face, she stuck a hand through the gargoyle’s body, tore out its core, and presented it to its sovereign.

“Release her!”

“No.”

She squeezed the dolphin’s heart. And shattered it with the strength of her grip.

Log Entry 1767
You have slain a level 23 lesser volcano spirit.

“Helvett! No! How dare you!”

The entire volcano was starting to shake. Its fury rattled the flames as it flailed its underdeveloped limbs in a desperate attempt to assault her, but not a single one of its attacks landed on target. Though the whale had power, it lacked the technique to move its body in anything but the simplest of arcs.

There were plenty of opportunities to counterattack, but Claire took none of them. She doubted she would be able to land any meaningful hits, let alone get through to the spirit’s core—not that it mattered. Her task had been completed the moment the cete’s rampage began.

Grabbing another random dolphin, Claire nonchalantly made her way toward the chamber’s newest exit. When she wasn’t dodging, she was strutting, moving with a blatant swagger ironed into every step. Every missed attack came with a corresponding change in the environment. Molten pits erupted into bursts of fire and ash. Rocks were thrown from their beds and launched beyond the sky. And pipes were shattered, completely wrecked by the cetacean’s might.

“Stop evading and fight me!”

“Maybe if you were worth the experience.” Claire stuck her tongue out as she continued her advance. “I’m going to go kill some more borroks now. Bye!”

With a wave and a snicker, she finally started running to exit. The whale created a wall of lava in her path, but she galloped right through it, her resistance aiding her in escaping unharmed.

Once outside, the lyrkress threw the dolphin she had kidnapped into the snow and stepped on its back. With it as her snowboard, she kicked off the ground and raced down the mountain, an earth-shattering eruption following behind in her wake.