by Iliev, Neven
They had the right idea, but their execution of it hadn’t been fast enough. No less than six hours later, that was already hot on their trail. The remaining ninety-or-so gnolls desperately fought back as they ran for their lives. They split up, set crude traps, even resorted to poisoning their young and feeding them to that, but none of it slowed it down in the slightest. Little by little, bit by bit, they were all hunted down and slain. These twenty were likely the last survivors, and that would not last long. None of them doubted the identity of their attacker. After all, the ones that died moments ago were their only remaining Druids and Shamans. That, the thing that looked like a girl, always made a point of taking out the rare magic users among them first.
Just as expected, that strode confidently out of the woods, and all the gnolls silently stared at the approaching horror. Crimson hair like a rampaging forest fire. Piercing yellow eyes that barely registered them as sentient beings. A pearly-white, crescent-like grin plastered on its face. A naked, slender body unburdened by foolish things like clothes or armor. A furry red tail that swished playfully behind like a reaper’s scythe.
That bore the appearance of a young and feeble human-like girl however one looked at it. While not immediately threatening, the horrific gap between its appearance and its strength only made that that more terrifying. Those tiny arms had literally punched down the walls of their village. Those small teeth could crunch up their skulls and bones as if they were dried leaves. Those frail-looking legs carried it with a speed too fast for any of them to follow. That soft skin that allowed no blade, arrow, or Spell to leave a lasting injury on.
That was an opponent all of them knew just enough of to understand they were no match. They knew it would come, that their comrades’ diversions were pointless and merely delayed the inevitable. Their fight-or-flight instincts had long ago given up, as neither option would save them. Their time was at an end, and so they put all their remaining strength into enjoying what had undoubtedly been their last meal.
The girl-shaped thing drew a long, white blade seemingly out of thin air. It gripped it in its right hand and assumed a sideways stance with its left arm behind its back and her right shoulder forward.
“Adagio Variation,” it mumbled in a sickeningly sweet voice.
The catgirl-shaped monster kicked the ground, crossing the distance between itself and its prey in an instant. The rapier pierced clean through the skull of the biggest one, who seemed to be in charge. The others swung their weapons in desperation, but every single one of them was avoided with minimal effort. They knew attacking would have been pointless even if they lopped the thing’s head off, but there did not exist a single monster on this world that would go down without putting up a fight when cornered.
The girl-thing struck out with its left hand, its slender claw-tipped fingers digging into the nape of a gnoll’s neck as if they were pins inserted into a cushion. It withdrew them a moment later, and did the same to two more. The three gnolls howled in rage, and then swung out at their own comrades, cutting them down in cold blood as the catgirl’s mithril rapier pierced skull after skull.
“Winterlich Waltz.”
At her second utterance, that shining blade stained with blood gave off an eerie blue light, and the surrounding temperature started dropping in the next instant. She swung it about in grand, slashing arcs, encasing everything she hit in a thick layer of ice and turning her prey into gnollcicles, one after the other. Even the ones that turned on their own kin were slaughtered indiscriminately. All said and done, it took but a minute to turn all the remaining gnolls into naught but shards of ice.
Well, except for the first one that Boxxy had hit with its newly-acquired Blade Dancer Skill. That one had quite literally exploded into gold coins. And the reason for that was clearly visible in the string of lingering messages inside the Mimic’s mind.
[Proficiency level increased. Hornet Style is now Level 4. STR +2. AGI +2.]
[Proficiency level increased. Puppet Parasite is now Level 4. INT+2. CHR +2.]
[Proficiency level increased. Adagio Variation is now Level 3. DEX +2. AGI+2.]
[Chaotic energies swirl around you. The next thing you kill will explode into a shower of gold.]
[Proficiency level increased. Winterlich Waltz is now Level 2. AGI +2. INT +2.]
[Level up!]
[Congratulations, you are now a Level 16 Blade Dancer! DEX +2. END +2. STR +1. AGI +1.]
[Proficiency level increased. Winterlich Waltz is now Level 3. AGI +2. INT +2.]
“Ahhh, hahahahahaha!”
The shapeshifter let out a laugh of one clearly drunk on power. Its newly-acquired Job and related Skills were developing at a mind-boggling pace. How long had it been since Boxxy experienced rapid growth like this? It was so delicious that it almost forgot itself.
“Ahahah! Ahah…. Ahem.”
The monster reigned in its enthusiasm. It had to be careful not to be found out, even if there was a million-to-one chance someone from the fort might see it like this. Well, getting sixteen Levels of a new Job within four days would probably turn quite a few heads, but it’s next guild-mandated Full Appraisal wasn’t for another two months. It would be quite some time before it was at any real danger of someone questioning Keira’s abnormal Level progression, but that moment would surely come. Even if Essence Concealment had a way of toning down the apparent Level of General Skills, Jobs were far more binary. They and their related Skills could be either shown or hidden, and that was it. This was an odd distinction, but that was just how things were. At the very least, it wouldn’t have to explain how it obtained such a high Level of Sword Mastery in so little time. Honestly speaking though, being able to completely hide the fact it was a doppelganger was all the shapeshifter really wanted out of the Skill. Everything else was an added bonus so long as it had access to Job trainers.
Indeed, having a proper Job to support its swordplay really made a huge amount of difference. The Hornet Style Skill it learned as a Level 5 Blade Dancer gave it the ability to use the same bizarre-yet-effective one-handed fighting style Jessie had demonstrated during her spar. Adagio Variation, on the other hand, was less like a stance, as Hilda had described it, and more of a physical boost that assisted Keira’s movements. And last but not least, there was Winterlich Waltz. It was an odd Skill halfway between a Spell and a Martial Art. It evoked Caster-like magical effects through continuous motion rather than chanting. Unlike Jessie, however, Keira had enough INT to make the ability quite devastating.
Of course, the creature hadn’t neglected its monster Skills, either. Using Puppet Parasite in humanoid form was a bit tricky, but the monster forced itself to learn how to do it. It would be fighting a lot more in Keira’s body, and needed to practice employing its various abilities with speed and subtlety. That and many Blade Dancer Skills required a more ‘standard’ arrangement of limbs. Winterlich Waltz, for instance, was impossible to use unless one had exactly two feet and two arms. Even Hornet Style was tricky to use properly with tentacles, but the passive boost it gave to sword damage was quite tasty all the same.
That said, the boon couldn’t compare to Boxxy having its Chaotic Disposition actually produce a favorable result for once. The shapeshifter half-expected the coins it had produced to fade away with time. It wasn’t as if the gnoll turned into gold, but more like the coins burst out of its skull as if they had always been there. Meaning they were likely conjured out of thin air and would disappear into nothingness with time. Even if that weren’t the case, there was no merchant out there that would consider them legal tender.
In fact, it was more accurate to call these things ‘chips’ than ‘coins.’ Each was blank on both sides, lacking the crests or portraits of dead guys that governments typically carved into minted currency. The relative size and weight would put each chip’s value somewhere around eighteen gold pieces, but no such denomination existed in either the Empire or the Republic. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Most nations o
n the continent of Atica complied with a series of ancient regulations known collectively as the Gold Standard Concordat. These had been put in place over a millennium ago by Mortimer, the God of Death and Commerce, presumably as a means of ensuring profitable trade between the various enlightened cultures. As a result, the various nations used functionally identical currency. A King Piece coin, for instance, had the same weight, composition, dimensions, and monetary worth of 50 GP regardless of which nation minted it. There was nothing keeping merchants and shopkeepers from accepting foreign currency other than their political views and beliefs.
It was therefore highly unlikely anyone would accept the freshly conjured almost-coins Boxxy gleefully stuffed into its Storage, but the shapeshifter didn’t care. It actually preferred them over real money, since the perfectly flat and smooth edges made the blank coins that much shinier. It understood they’d likely disappear, but Boxxy wouldn’t be Boxxy if it let such curious shinies wallow in the dirt unappreciated. There was still joy to be found in the at the acts of picking them up, carefully cleaning them, and safely depositing them in its pocket dimension one by one.
If nothing else, this was a much more enjoyable instance of Chaotic Disposition than the one that had triggered during its first assault on the gnolls. Being suddenly transported twenty meters in a random direction was something it had experienced a few times before, but getting teleported twenty kilometers? It shuddered to think what would have happened if the spot it appeared in was straight up in the air, or deep underground. It had been inwardly cursing Jedediah, the Goddess of Chaos, for forcing this infuriating ability onto it, but this literal jackpot had somewhat improved Boxxy’s opinion of Chaotic Disposition.
Having finished collecting the temporary boon to its ever-growing hoard, the shapeshifter reverted to its favorite chest-bound shape, and proceeded to eat up the gnoll’s remnants. Unlike before, it could leisurely savor the flavor, so it was in no rush to scarf them down. Their flesh was a bit stringy, but definitely on the tasty side. The frozen ones were even better than normal, as their iced-over flesh and bone was really crunchy and fun to chew on.
Stuffing so many icy bits into its maw so quickly proved to be a bad decision when Boxxy suddenly felt a shooting pain run up the back of its throat and spread across the top of its lid. Its immediate thought was that it had eaten a poisoned gnoll again, but a quick consultation with Snack revealed this was not the case. Apparently, the creature had just experienced something called a ‘brain freeze.’ Boxxy immediately began to panic, but its faithful familiar was quick to assure her master that the term was very much metaphorical.
All of that settled, the criminally ignorant shapeshifter thought on its next course of action.
Now then, I should probably head back.
This pack of gnolls were the last ones in the area, and the length of Keira’s solo hunting trips were starting to push the boundaries of what was acceptable within the Republic’s armed forces during times of war. Pretty soon she would get almost no free time, which was partly why Boxxy was so adamant about getting as many Levels as possible within a short time frame. At the very least its educated guess was spot on, and the vast majority of the XP it got from killing things with swords went towards its Blade Dancer Job.
This would definitely need to be the very last occupation Boxxy picked up in the foreseeable future. It was common knowledge among adventurers that an individual with one Job at Level 100 was infinitely more terrifying than someone who had five at Level 20, and Boxxy was already splitting its focus too much. The shapeshifter was a Warlock while Spell-slinging, an Artificer while tinkering, a Blade Dancer while swinging a sword around, a Ranger while shooting at things with a bow, and a doppelganger at all times.
Oh right, its Ranger Job had hit Level 30 along the way. Boxxy was so enthralled with killing things, it almost forgot about it. Now that it was free from Faehorn’s nagging, it could freely pick the Skills it wanted, and it almost immediately chose one it heard much about.
[Hunter’s Mark]
A good hunter never loses sight of their quarry.
Requirements: Level 30 Ranger, 200 PER
Type: Active
Activation Time: Instant
Cost: 130 MP
Range: 200 Meters
[Effects]
Tracks the target’s location for the next 30 minutes.
Targets afflicted with Hunter’s Mark take additional damage from projectile-based weaponry equal to 2% per Level of this Skill.
Increases the range and duration of this Skill by 20% per Level of this Skill.
It was a Skill that could be called the natural enemy of Rogues, Spies and any other Job that relied on stealth or invisibility. An unwitting target could get ‘tagged’ at a distance without realizing it, at which point the Ranger could tell their exact location regardless of how sneaky they were. Even if they realized they were marked by tracking magic, they’d need a Wizard’s De-spell or a Paladin or Priest to Cleanse them of the effect. The extra potency of ranged attacks was nothing to scoff at either. Lastly, the Skill would certainly prove useful once Boxxy grew strong enough to seek vengeance on Edward, making this a no-brainer.
[Proficiency level increased. Hunter’s Mark is now Level 1. INT +2. WIS +2. PER +2.]
That said, Boxxy already had a more immediate use for it in mind. Underwood’s intelligence gathering had determined that no less than six Imperials with Level 100 Jobs would be present at the upcoming siege. Hunter’s Mark would make it easier for the shapeshifter to track and avoid these VIPs. Boxxy had serious doubts it could survive any of them, even if it didn’t have to maintain its cover as Keira.
Reaching Level 100 in a Job did more than allow enlightened to Rank Up. It gave them access to a unique and extremely powerful Ultimate Skill. Faehorn’s was something called Turret Stance, which allowed him to fire arrows with a truly unbelievable rate of fire so long as he stood still. Hilda’s Ultimate was Tempest of Wrath, which unleashed her inner rage to bolster allies while hindering enemies. Boxxy didn’t know the exact effects and conditions of either Skill, but that was expected.
The only reason the ex-mimic knew about those two was because it had gotten close to them as Keira, but adventurers normally kept the details about their trump cards as secret as possible. It wasn’t far-fetched to say that the tide of a battle between two armies could easily sway depending on how effectively each side utilized the Ultimate Skills at their disposal. In a situation where the Empire fielded six such people while the Republic only had three, the latter would almost always lose. This would be the case even if the defenders had a large advantage in troop strength, which they most certainly didn’t.
In short, the Republic’s defeat was more or less a certainty. Even knowing that, simply giving up Fort Yimin and the surrounding region without a fight was even worse in the long run. The elves had no choice but to make a stand. They were in a desperate situation, and if Boxxy learned anything from its days at the Mercenary Guild in Erosa, it was that desperate people made for excellent clients. Hence why ‘Mister Sandman’ had offered the 3rd Legion’s leadership a plan that just might tip the scales in their favor. It didn’t really care whether they won or lost, it just wanted to secure as much profit as possible.
Fort Yimin’s commanding officers naturally frowned at the vigilante’s profiteering behavior, but they ultimately accepted the deal. In fact, it was just about time for Boxxy to collect its down payment, so it wasted no time getting back to base. A quick cast of Transfamiliar caused it to swap places with Claws, who was about sixty kilometers away. This distance was around the limit of Boxxy’s current MP. Transfamiliar, like other spatial relocation magic, grew in cost directly proportional to the distance traveled. In other words, as long as Boxxy’s MP grew, so too would the distance it could cover in a single use of the Spell.
Right now, however, it was still several kilometers away from Fort Yimin, inside a secluded cave covered in Claws’ webs. It quickly assumed Keira�
��s form and took her gear out of Storage. It could have worn it during the gnoll hunt, but that would have left some very conspicuous stains and holes in her outfit. Not the sort of condition one would expect it to be after what was supposed to be a light hunt.
Once Keira was properly dressed, she strode out of the cave and ran on all fours back to the fort. She returned to base in the early afternoon, and was almost immediately sent out again. The redhead was escorted by the same platoon of soldiers as last time, including another chest heavy with treasure. A gnomish Wizard—one of Imiryl’s disciples—handled the Gate Spell that transported the group from the outskirts of the fort to the vicinity of Cyrilla’s tree.
This time the armed soldiers let Keira carry the heavy chest to the dryad’s resting spot all by herself right from the start. Although the embarrassment this particular bunch suffered at her hands was not made public, none of them were keen to repeat it. Imiryl herself had suffered the worst of it, so none were surprised to hear she refused to ever get near that tree again. There was also the matter that news of her spanking had somehow spread throughout the fort, and many believed the outlandish tale. The infamously snobbish high elf showed far too much modesty and reservation as of late for that scandalous rumor to not be true.
That aside, the beastkin’s escorts couldn’t help but feel their mission had changed. Since the Sandman had apparently proven himself trustworthy, the purpose of their presence most likely to ensure a third party didn’t show up and ruin the transaction. So, the Rangers in the platoon focused their attention on the surrounding plains, and only one of them watched the beastkin carry the payment of five thousand GP off to the tree. She wobbled unsteadily for the latter half of the short walk due to the sheer weight of the gold in that chest, but she made it to the base of the ancient tree without incident.