《The Misery Island Bureau of Spirit Affairs - Tentacle Torment》 Chapter One Chapter One ¡®Gimme the meatballs!¡¯ the masked man yelled at me. I stood at the counter, my trusty spatula in one hand, the other hovering over the register. I was confused ¡ª I would have expected a masked man with a gun to demand the money. And where did he even get a gun? Those were illegal to own, weren¡¯t they? And ¡­ was he high? Probably. And as it turned out he was also impatient and he didn¡¯t take my hesitation well. He pulled the trigger. I heard the screams of the patrons as I fell. I briefly saw the horrified expression on the face of one of the waitresses before hitting the ground. I should have stayed in the kitchen. What was I thinking covering for Bert just so he could go have a smoke? A minute ¡ª just a minute more, and he would have been the one on the ground, looking up at the ceiling and that old bug zapper on the wall. Instead, it was me. I barely felt anything. Was this really happening? Was I going to die? Or maybe I was alright? I tried to move. I couldn¡¯t. Then breathing became a lot harder than it should have been, and a burning pain began to manifest itself in my chest. Oh. That was not a good sign, was it? I kept blinking, the ceiling and the bug zapper blurring and darkening each time I blinked. A beautiful, blonde woman in a red dress stood over me. She looked down at me, smiling, and for a moment I forgot I was dying. The next time I closed my eyes, I couldn¡¯t open them again. I was dead. *** If this was the afterlife, then it was weird. This wasn¡¯t how I¡¯d imagined heaven, or in my case, probably hell. There was no choir of angels welcoming me, which was fine, and to my relief there was a distinct absence of demons with pitchforks and cauldrons filled with boiling lava. I felt dizzy. Disoriented. I tried to blink, I tried to move, but nothing happened. I couldn¡¯t feel my arms or my legs, I couldn¡¯t even feel the air I was breathing ¡­ hold on! I wasn¡¯t breathing. The rising and falling of my chest that should have been there, wasn¡¯t, the feeling of the air flowing through my nostrils completely absent. I wanted to turn my head to look around. Not only I couldn¡¯t, I didn¡¯t need to. I saw everything, I saw in all directions, all at once. No wonder I felt so light-headed as if I¡¯d been spinning around for minutes, or even hours. What was this place? A cave? A tunnel? Definitely a tunnel. Had they buried me already? Rough, earthen walls left, right, up and down, the tunnel running probably for miles in front and behind, giant roots protruding from everywhere, only occasional patches of light seeping through the top. The afterlife was weird for sure, and I had a feeling that my life-long plan of opening my own restaurant wasn¡¯t going to happen, not in a place like this. Well, at least the eternal, torturous fires most churches promised weren¡¯t in view, so I decided it was a win for me. A win. A win my ass ¡ª I was dead, wasn¡¯t I? Thirty odd years of living and failing to fulfil my dreams and now this? The word purgatory came to mind. I recalled hearing about some in-between place when I was a kid. Maybe this was it. And here I was, dead but not quite, my prospects not looking all that good. Yeah. Purgatory. I wondered what happened after I got shot. Had someone called the police? An ambulance? Was the masked gunman caught, or did he flee, looking for someone else to kill? How would my parents take the news? I tried to move again. I couldn¡¯t. I really was dead, wasn¡¯t I? All I could do was ¡­ see. And maybe hear. I had no other sensations: I didn¡¯t smell anything, I didn¡¯t feel temperature, and I certainly couldn¡¯t move. Hell, I didn¡¯t even feel like I had a body. What was I then? A floating consciousness, a soul, stuck in this ¡­ tunnel for all eternity? I was sure there were people who¡¯d be happy to discuss the philosophical implications of my current state of existence. ¡°I think, therefore I am.¡± Or something like that, just as a starting point for the discussion, and then they¡¯d move onto whether people in fact had souls or not. But I doubted I¡¯d bump into a philosopher here ¡ª wherever or whatever here was ¡ª or more accurately, I doubted a philosopher would bump into me since I couldn¡¯t move. I wondered when despair would set in. I was sure it would, eventually, but for the moment I felt ¡­ fine, strangely. I wasn¡¯t panicking or anything of the sort, I wasn¡¯t in any pain and I couldn¡¯t see or hear any threats to my ¡­ life? This was confusing. Was I dead or not? My memories were clear: I got shot. But the old ¡°I think therefore I am¡± argument was also clear. I existed. Somehow. A thin line appeared out of nowhere, right in front of me. Or behind me ¡ª it was all the same to me with my new, three-sixty vision. It was thin, like a spider¡¯s thread, translucent, almost as if it wasn¡¯t there, as if it was just the ghost of a thread. This gossamer-like thing seemed to be attached to something in the place I recognised as my location, or my centre, from which my all-round vision spanned out from. It was a hard thing to wrap my mind around, even harder to put it into words. The thread hung in the air, running along the tunnel, disappearing into a wall. The thread trembled slightly, and as if from nowhere, a person appeared. I would have gasped had it been possible: the same blonde woman from the moment of my death, wearing the same red dress, looked at me with a smile on her face. The ghost-thread, seemingly endless before, was now as short as the distance between me and her, and she held the other end of it in her hand. ¡®Good morning, stupid!¡¯ she said with a smile. Her voice was sweet, but to call someone stupid right off the bat was just rude. Maybe I was in hell after all, and she was a demon. ¡®Uhm, yes, hello?¡¯ I tried to speak. I heard my own voice, if I could call it a voice. It was weak and hollow, almost as if I was hearing myself whispering from a box in another room. ¡®Okay, so let¡¯s get to the point,¡¯ she said, still smiling, looking in my general direction. ¡®You got yourself killed, but congratulations, a few days and some serious soul-surgery later, you¡¯re here and you¡¯re ready to begin work.¡¯ This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ sorry, what? Who the hell are you, lady? And what do you mean work?¡¯ I demanded immediately. ¡®Questions, questions! Listen, stupid, just be grateful you¡¯re still you,¡¯ she said, sneering. I¡¯d been raised better than to even think about hitting a woman, but she was begging for it. I was never one to participate in fights, let alone to start one, but whatever it was that was happening here, it was a lot to take in. I managed to quell the urge, but ... I wanted to do something. I had to do something. Anything. For a moment I forgot that all the evidence pointed to the fact I that did not own a body, and I reached out to grab her. Maybe I wanted to shake her, shake some answers out of her, I wasn¡¯t sure. As expected, nothing happened, and the woman kept grinning into my non-existent face. ¡®Aw, how cute. Whatcha gonna do? Wrap your little tentacles around my neck?¡¯ ¡®What? Tentacles?¡¯ I was taken aback. What tentacles? Then I saw the tentacles. Actually, I¡¯d been seeing them all along, but I¡¯d been so focused on the woman that it just hadn''t registered until now. But there they were: two blueish, translucent tentacles, reaching for the woman. I instinctively drew my arms back, as if I still had them, and the two tentacles retracted. I stared at them, as shocked as I had ever been. ¡®Are¡­ are those¡­ mine?¡¯ I stuttered. ¡®Ohohoho! Not bad, huh?¡¯ the woman laughed. ¡®What have you done to me? Who are you?¡¯ I cried out in a panic, throwing and flailing my arms and my legs around. And as I did, the tentacles moved, and it wasn¡¯t just the two. There were five of them. Five! Five small, otherworldly phantom tentacles writhing and coiling as I willed my limbs to move. ¡®Are you done with your little tantrum? Just settle down and accept that you are what you are now!¡¯ the woman said, shaking her head, her hands on her hips. ¡®What! Am! I!¡¯ I growled at her, or I tried to growl. I sounded more like a cat purring the words. ¡®Ah. If you really must know, you are a Spiritual Tentacle Horror,¡¯ she said, then she spread her arms. ¡®What was I supposed to do? Those things rarely pop up, so when you find one, you can¡¯t just let it go to waste.¡¯ ¡®What? How? What have you done?¡¯ I demanded, and this time I wanted to punch and kick in her direction. The tentacles shot out, responding to my intention, but they were too short to ever reach her, and I still couldn¡¯t move in any direction. ¡®Calm down!¡¯ she said, frowning, looking at me the way I remembered teachers looking at me when I was making mischief during class. ¡®Then tell me what the hell is going on! What have you done to me?¡¯ I was furious. I was scared. I desperately needed answers. So I did the only thing I could in my current circumstance and I swung my tentacles at her as wildly as I could. Not that it did any good, but ... I was beginning to feel the appendages, all five of them. But I was too angry to stop to ponder how strange it felt, or to properly explore it further. ¡®Alright, alright,¡¯ she said, rolling her eyes. ¡®Will you stop this if I tell you a bit more?¡¯ I withdrew my tentacles. My! Tentacles! I forced myself to calm down and decided I¡¯d think about this tentacle business after the blonde woman told me more about what was going on. ¡®Better,¡¯ she said. ¡®Now. Listen carefully, because I¡¯m only telling you this once.¡¯ I nodded. Or at least that was my intention, but nothing seemed to happen. She continued. ¡®Alright,¡¯ she said. ¡®So I was wandering around and I found a small, Spiritual Tentacle Horror. Any sensible Grand Spirit would kill those on sight, but in my opinion, it¡¯s a waste to do that. Those things are very efficient in collecting Essence. Unfortunately they tend to grow out of control if left unchecked. So, I popped over to your world, found a man with one of those gun-things and followed him to see if he¡¯d kill someone. Lucky for me, you were stupid and hesitated to give him what he wanted. He killed you, I plucked your soul, and at a considerable cost to me I brought it over and worked it into the little critter. It¡¯s body is your body now, and you are ready to start collecting Essence for me. End of story.¡¯ ¡®Hold on, hold on! End of story?¡¯ I yelled at her. ¡®I don¡¯t even understand!¡¯ ¡®Well, that¡¯s your problem,¡¯ she shrugged. ¡®So ¡­ I really died?¡¯ ¡®You did.¡¯ ¡®And you put my soul into this ¡­ Spiritual Tentacle Horror?¡¯ ¡®I did a good job, didn¡¯t I?¡¯ she said, smiling. ¡®Why?¡¯ I cried. ¡®Because these little critters are animalistic and predatory. They eat and eat and eat and grow. With your soul in control of it, it¡¯s as harmless as it gets, and I get a steady stream of Essence coming my way. It¡¯s a win-win.¡¯ None of what she said so far made sense. I understood some of it, but it just didn¡¯t make sense. My world? Over here? Spirits? Essence?¡¯ ¡®Essence? What¡¯s Essence? You said something about work. Is that it? Collecting Essence?¡¯ ¡®Oh? Maybe you¡¯re not that stupid,¡¯ she grinned at me. ¡®Yes. You¡¯ll collect Essence, and a portion of it will come my way.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ I said and I focused on the ghost-thread leading from my new, spiritually tentacled body to her hand. ¡®Is it ¡­ is this what the thread is for?¡¯ ¡®Oh, you can see it? Sorry!¡¯ she said, then snapped her fingers. The thread vanished. I was sure it was still there, but I couldn¡¯t see it any more. Ah. This was neither a great ending to my life, nor a great start to my afterlife. Getting shot and dying was one thing ¡ª I wasn¡¯t happy about it, far from it, but there didn¡¯t seem to be much I could do about it. And now I was about to be forced into ¡­ what? Slave labor of the dead? Spiritual gopher? Working holiday in the afterlife? Didn¡¯t I have rights, or something? Of course I didn¡¯t. I was dead and this grand blonde spirit woman had just snatched up my soul, hadn¡¯t she? Under any other circumstances, I wouldn¡¯t have believed a word she said. But looking at my own tentacles was ¡­ convincing enough. Damn! It seemed I was stuck in a weird new body, collecting Essence for this ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. Grand Spirit? More like Bitch of all Bitches. ¡®How do I even collect this Essence-stuff?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Don¡¯t worry about it,¡¯ she waved a hand. ¡®You¡¯re doing it already.¡¯ ¡®But ¡­ I can¡¯t move!¡¯ I argued. I wanted to move. I really did. ¡®What do you think you are? A familiar?¡¯ she asked, leaning in closer, raising her eyebrows ¡®You¡¯re an unsanctioned, unattached spirit. Of course you can¡¯t move.¡¯ ¡®But ¡­ but, I need to move around. To collect stuff. No?¡¯ I blurted out my immediate thoughts in a panic. ¡®Not really,¡¯ she said, shrugging. ¡®Just wiggle your tentacles, or something. As I said, you¡¯re collecting Essence even now.¡¯ ¡®But ¡­¡¯ I wanted to protest and ask more questions, but she shut me down. ¡®Alright, listen! I¡¯m done answering questions. I already told you more than you need to know.¡¯ ¡®But I have questions. A lot of questions.¡¯ ¡®And I don¡¯t care,¡¯ she said, shaking her head. ¡®I don¡¯t expect much from you. Maybe you¡¯ll grow a little, but there isn¡¯t a lot around here for you to feed on. Even just collecting the ambient Essence, I¡¯m getting more from you than from a low-rank familiar, and that¡¯s good enough for me. So, I bid you farewell, and good luck.¡¯ She ¡­ began to fade. She was leaving. I had so many questions ¡ª questions I desperately needed answers for. How was I supposed to move? What else could I do? Was I really a slave now? More and more questions sprung up, some only half formed, some nothing but inklings with question marks. And she was leaving. ¡®Wait!¡¯ I screamed at her. ¡®What now?¡¯ she growled at me, irritated. ¡®Questions!¡¯ I growled back. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll give you one more. Just one more,¡¯ she sighed, staring at me, half gone already, as translucent as my tentacles. One question. What should I ask? I had too many to choose from. In the end, getting one more answer didn¡¯t even matter, not if I couldn¡¯t get all my questions answered. So I asked, ¡®Who are you? What¡¯s your name?¡¯ ¡®Oh? Is that what you want to know? Plotting revenge already?¡¯ ¡®Maybe,¡¯ I said. ¡®Fine,¡¯ she laughed. ¡®I am Wensah.¡¯ Chapter Two Chapter Two Wensah vanished. I was left all alone in this long and strange tunnel, which ¡ª if I could believe Wensah ¡ª was in a world other than mine. I shouldn¡¯t have believed her. I shouldn¡¯t have believed a word she said. All this? It just wasn¡¯t possible. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be possible. I shook my fist in anger and frustration, only to see one of my tiny tentacles shooting out and trembling almost invisibly. It was kind of cute. I sighed inwardly. It didn¡¯t matter what I believed, or wanted to believe. I was looking at my own blueish, translucent tentacles ¡ª if the prospect of spending the rest of my existence as a ghostly hentai-monster wasn¡¯t proof enough that Wensah spoke the truth, then nothing was. And to think my last meal was a ham and cheese omelette with chips before I got shot. Oh, that was just depressing. But the biggest question was: what now? I still couldn¡¯t move, no matter how much I willed myself to. I did not move an inch. My tentacles wiggled and flailed all over the place, but that was it. I was stuck in this tunnel. I didn¡¯t think I was deep underground: there were lights coming through here and there, and I assumed there must have been holes in the ceiling, and that it was daytime outside. Well, it didn¡¯t matter at the moment ¡ª it wasn¡¯t possible for me to get out of here. I had to focus on the things I could do, and the only thing I could do was to move my five little tentacles. Moving my tentacles independently from each other was like ¡­ drumming. So I drew on the few drum lessons I had taken during my high school days. It took some time and some practice before I could move them individually without difficulty, making each of them doing something different than the others. I started to feel them as if they were my arms, I really did, but it wasn¡¯t quite the same experience. There were no joints, and I had to do away with the notion of bending elbows or knees, or having wrists, fingers, or ankles. Instead, I had to get a feel for how I could coil, twist and turn the little buggers. Also, there were five of them, and they were ¡­ immaterial: I could stick a tentacle into the ground and it would just go through as if it was really a ghost. But even though it seemed I couldn¡¯t interact with anything material, I could poke one tentacle with another and I would feel something like touch. It was weird, but by the time the lights disappeared and night fell on the world on top of me, I got the hang of it. And in the process I got a picture of what I was and what I probably looked like. I saw in all directions: left, right, front and behind, up and down. All at the same time. It had been disorienting at first, but I got used to it surprisingly fast. As I learned to move my tentacles I realised that my vision was focused in whatever direction my tentacles were pointing. If I twisted one of them around and pointed it at myself, I could see the small ghost-ball I was. I could see everything else too, but where I had no tentacles pointing, it was more like peripheral vision ¡ª I was aware that I saw something, but if I wanted a clear picture, I had to move one of my tentacles that way. So I moved my tentacles around. It was almost like watching five different screens at the same time, while still aware of everything else that weren¡¯t on the screens. As I experimented and practiced with this, the next discovery came. Not only could I lunge my tentacles forward, bend and twist them, but as it turned out, I could shuffle them around my little ghost-ball of a body. Yeah. I was a ball with five tentacles that could slide around the surface and point in any direction I wanted them to. Interesting. Unsettling. Weird. I was like a plasma ball with tentacles instead of lightnings going around. I wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed. Darkness came, and then it went, and I assumed it was morning again. I didn¡¯t know how long days and nights were here ¡ª it could have been different from good old Earth, but I didn¡¯t feel tired. I didn¡¯t feel like I had to sleep. So I practiced until morning came, and I had five, fully functional, extremely weird and flexible arms I could operate at will and with ease. I set a goal for myself: I wanted to somehow divide the end of one tentacle into five smaller tentacles, almost like a hand, like fingers. I swore that if I could manage that, I¡¯d give Wensah the finger if I ever saw her again. *** It was another day later, in what I supposed was the evening, when I saw the first living creature. The tunnel rumbled as the worm burst forth from the wall at some distance in the direction I¡¯d arbitrarily designated as front. Well, bursting forth was bit of an exaggeration. It lazily poked its head out the wall, earth crumbling, then it moved forward with the same, crawly locomotion earthworms used back home. In fact, it kind of looked like the worms you¡¯d see in any garden, coming up to the surface on a rainy day. The difference was that this one was huge, it had a purple hue, and there were little hairs all over it. It almost completely filled the tunnel as it was crawling across it. It reached the opposite wall, stuck its head into it, into a crack or something, then it disappeared into a new tunnel of its own making, slowly crawling forward and leaving piles of earth behind. As I watched the worm, I became aware of two ¡­ well, issues. Firstly, I was getting a strange feeling that the giant worm wasn¡¯t a giant worm. Rather, it was a regular sized worm, and it only seemed large to me because I was even smaller. This was a worrying thought, and I had no other basis for it than a feeling. But I couldn¡¯t go around measuring things, and not just on account of not having a tape measure. So I left this thought to simmer somewhere in the back of my mind. The second thing was that I saw the worm in more than one way. Sure, I saw it¡¯s hairy, purple body, but at the same time, I also saw something like a faint, shimmering, white-ish phantom image of the creature, juxtaposed on its body. Apart from its color, it was almost the same my own tentacles: ghost-like. This was¡­ interesting. The roots that hang from the top of the tunnel didn¡¯t have this ghost-image overlay of themselves. Only the worm did. Was it ¡­ a spiritual body? Was it the soul of the critter? Did worms have souls in the first place? Until the tragic evening of my own murder, it hadn¡¯t even occurred to me to think about souls, or whether people or animals had them or not. Now, however, it seemed like a pretty important question to ponder. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.But I had other issues to fret about. My tentacles didn¡¯t seem to be able to touch, or to interact with the floor or the ceiling, or with the loose pieces of earth around, and I¡¯d tried. There was no interaction whatsoever. I was made of spirit-stuff. Or soul-stuff. I wasn¡¯t sure which was the accurate phrase, but I figured I wasn¡¯t far from the truth. One thing was for sure though: I could touch myself. Oh. That came out wrong. Anyway, so I wondered if I could interact with the newly discovered spiritual body, or soul, of the worm. But unfortunately I was still unable to move, so I just kept hovering where I was and watched the critter disappear. *** It was frustrating. The whole situation was frustrating. Existence was frustrating. I¡¯d been here for almost three local days now, and there was nothing I could do, and it didn¡¯t look like anything would change any time soon. Oh, I¡¯d be better off dead for real than being condemned to immobility for all eternity. It was uncharacteristic of me, but I wanted to punch Wensah in the face, and I wanted to do it now. Was this the first sign of despair? Or insanity? I wasn¡¯t sure. What I was sure of was that I could kiss any hopes and notions I had goodbye. Such as returning to good old Earth, and even if I could, all I had was a body with a bullet in the chest waiting for me. I imagined my parents crying, talking to the police, arranging my funeral, talking to relatives¡­ ah. Returning to Earth? I couldn¡¯t even move from where I was. Not an inch! I wanted to take a deep breath to calm myself, but even breathing was off the table for the foreseeable future. The only thing I could do was to call on and embrace the most fundamental tenet of classical stoicism: keep calm, and carry on! And so I dropped everything from my mind that I couldn¡¯t do and I turned my attention to the things that I could do. Essence. Wensah had said something about collecting Essence. I had no idea what this Essence-thing was or what collecting it meant, but she said I was doing it already. I didn¡¯t think I was doing anything special apart from trying and failing to move, but then again I never thought doing things like breathing was anything special either while I was alive, so who knew? I didn¡¯t know how to go about this though: I couldn¡¯t see anything out of the ordinary ¡ª having more or less accepted that my spiritual tentacled body was part of the new ordinary. So I emptied my mind as much as I could, boxed away the many questions in there and I focused. I let my tentacles hang in the air, as still as possible, and I was looking for something they might be doing that I hadn¡¯t seen before. And I looked, I peered, I spied, and ¡­ there was nothing. That was disappointing. I closed my eyes ¡ª mentally ¡ª and I concentrated even harder. Strangely enough, the world dimmed as I did that, as if evening had arrived already, even though it was midday in my best estimate. The world dimmed, and the tighter I shut my imaginary eyes, the darker the tunnel became. It seemed I could force myself to stop seeing, and that was good to know. I kept doing that, and my environment disappeared ¡ª I didn¡¯t see any more, a matte blackness replacing the tunnel. However, I still saw the ghostly wireframe outlines of my tentacles, and if anything, they looked clearer and sharper. So I focused on them, and lo and behold, there was something they were doing. Well, the thing was, I didn¡¯t really see them doing it, more like¡­ I felt them doing it. My little, wiggly tentacles were indeed drawing something into them, and whatever it was, it flowed through them right into the centre of my body where it sort of disappeared, but not quite. I focused even harder, shutting everything out, even the sight of the tentacles themselves. There was only darkness and the feeling that I was filling up with something. Like when you were hungry, and decided to drink water until you couldn¡¯t even imagine eating any more. It was¡­ Essence. It couldn¡¯t have been anything else. My tentacles were collecting this Essence-stuff from the air without any conscious effort on my part. No wonder that wretched Wensah said I didn¡¯t need to do anything in particular to collect the stuff. Well, that blond wench aside, I was proud of myself for discovering this. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was thanks to my own efforts, or I was simply gaining access to whatever instinctual knowledge the previous occupant had left here after being evicted, but it didn¡¯t matter. I achieved something, however small, and I was happy with that. And I wasn¡¯t going to stop there. I couldn¡¯t see or sense this Essence, not outside of my body, but once my tentacles drew some into them, I could follow its journey. I didn¡¯t know what this stuff was ¡ª it sure didn¡¯t feel like something physical or tangible. Maybe it was some sort of energy? Or magic power? Or the Force itself, and I was becoming a Sith Lord? Who knew? But it was there and when it reached the centre of my body, it flowed into something ¡­ like sort of a storage organ¡­ or a pool. An Essence pool. I could feel the presence of this pool now. It was a part of me, but it wasn¡¯t anywhere inside my body, or at least not in any part of it that I could see. It was very strange. I could sense the Essence Pool filling up, then I sensed the level drop as if said pool was leaking, or the contents were being siphoned away. And that was right, wasn¡¯t it? That thread? Wensah was siphoning my Essence from my pool, wasn¡¯t she? She¡¯d said so herself. But that was not all. I felt another ¡­ pool in my body, or outside of it, or both. My newfound, internal sense told me this other pool was not like the Essence pool. It was somewhat smaller and it was empty, completely, utterly empty. As empty as my first girlfriend¡¯s promises to stay with me no matter what. A pool couldn¡¯t get emptier that that. I chuckled at the thought. Now. Essence was only filling its own pool, the other one staying empty. I concluded that it was for something else. But what? I wondered if I could take some of the Essence from its own pool and put some or pour some over to the empty one? Well, no time like the present as the saying went, and I tried. I focused on the Essence pool, and ¡ª for the lack of a better word ¡ª I willed it to slosh some Essence over. To my utter shock and surprise, it worked. Essence flowed from one pool to the other. My body shuddered for a moment, and my focus broke. The tunnel snapped back into existence around me ¡ª it must have been night already, for the meager sunlight was gone. Had I really spent that much time in my improvised, meditative introspection? Apparently I had. But it didn¡¯t matter: even with my mental eyes open and even without specifically focusing on them, I felt the presence of both pools now. My Essence pool was down to almost empty, but slowly filling again already. The second pool was suddenly half full and it stayed half full. How did I know this? Probably with the help of my inherited Tentacle Horror instinct. That was the only way I could put it ¡ª it was instinctual. Intuitive. All that was left to do was to figure out what I could do with these pools and their contents. And since the need to sleep and rest was a thing of the past now, I got to it. Chapter Three Chapter Three I peered into the second pool. I wasn¡¯t looking at it in the old and traditional sense of the word, because I couldn¡¯t. It was more like knowing it was there. Like when you got a sense of your stomach: the fact that it was there, whether it was full or empty, or when it wanted to send the contents back up the way they came ¡ª you just knew that it was happening. In a similar manner, I could now feel this pool and the stuff it contained. And the stuff it contained wasn¡¯t Essence. I found this strange for two reasons: firstly, because I could have sworn it was Essence I¡¯d ladled over from one pool to the other, and secondly, the quantity wasn¡¯t right. The new and unknown stuff filling the pool amounted to roughly half of what I¡¯d taken out of the Essence pool. The only explanation I could think of was that my body somehow changed the Essence into something else on the way between the two pools. And if that was the case, the conversion rate was about two to one. I had no evidence per-se, but the idea just felt right. Tentacle Horror Instinct, huh? It didn¡¯t sound as catchy as Spider-Sense, but I was right, wasn¡¯t I? It was time to figure out what this new stuff did, if anything at all. My body could basically manufacture it from Essence, I even had a pool for it, so it must have had some purpose. I focused on the stuff in the pool, and holy shit it was reacting immediately. It moved. It roiled. It didn¡¯t take much mental nudging: the stuff flowed from pool through my body and into one of my tentacles as I directed it with ease, quite unlike the rather passive Essence. This new stuff? It obeyed. I willed the stuff to gather at the tip of my tentacle. I could feel it. I could feel it wanted to do something, wanted to leave my body and wanted to be used. Well, if it wanted to be used, then who was I to argue? I ejected the stuff through the tip of my tentacle. It flowed out, spreading on the outside of what amounted to the spiritual skin of my appendage. The stuff coated the end of my tentacle, and I could see a dim sheen appearing on it, and ¡­ that was it. What now? The stuff began to bleed off into the air, dissipating. I had to will some more of it to flow there to replace the quantity I was losing. It seemed that once outside of my body, the stuff would dissipate and disappear if there wasn¡¯t a constant stream to replace it. I held up that tentacle in front of me, just staring at it. There must be more to this stuff than just to make an expensive tentacle-glove. I kept the stuff flowing. The pool was dipping slowly but surely, but I kept it up and kept staring at the tip of my tentacle. It was time to do something. Anything. So I flailed that particular appendage around: I shook it, I punched ahead with it, then I tried to will it to form fingers, hoping I could practice flipping the bird at Wensah. Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t happen, but what did happen was even better. My tentacle brushed against a pile of earth on the ground. Oh, the joy I felt as little bits and pieces of earth went flying. It was magic. True, undisputed, joyous magic. I could touch things. With this stuff coating my tentacles, I could touch things. I could interact with the world around me. I wasted no time: I willed my Essence pool to pour everything into the other pool. There wasn¡¯t enough to fill the second pool completely, but I didn¡¯t mind. I directed the new stuff into two tentacles, coating the tips of both. Earth and dirt kicked up as I punched holes into the tunnel walls, and I laughed with satisfaction. I plunged the tips of both tentacles into the ground. I had enough purchase to pull myself forward, so I pulled and I pulled, and ¡­ my tentacles carved two small grooves into the ground. And I didn¡¯t move. I stayed right where I was. What the hell? I didn¡¯t think I was heavy, for shit¡¯s sake, I didn¡¯t think I weighed anything at all. I was some sort of spirit, hovering in the air, wasn¡¯t I? So I tried again and again, and each time the only thing that happened was my tentacles digging and dredging up some dirt. And that was it. I didn¡¯t move. I couldn¡¯t move. I screamed in frustration, and more then ever, I wanted to punch something. Minutes later, I was just staring at the holes in the walls all around me, with no magic stuff left in the pool. I needed to calm down and think this through. *** I considered the two pools. Essence and the magic stuff. I knew it was childish to draw on the long days and hours I¡¯d spent on my PC, playing games in my high school days, but being childish was the least of my concerns. I took what I knew and I used it. I didn¡¯t have anything better to do, did I? First, I wanted a unit of measurement for both pools and for the stuff in them. I declared that Essence shall be referred to as Essence Points, or EP, and since I was using this kind of analogy, the magic stuff became Mana Points, or MP. I counted the seconds as my Essence Pool refilled from empty to full. About eight minutes. This became my standard unit of measurement: one EP was the amount of Essence I collected in one minute. Based on this, the size of my Essence pool was 8. The level of EP was of course fluctuating: I lost EP to Wensah here and there. She was diligently siphoning the stuff, wasn¡¯t she? Nonetheless my body was collecting Essence without any conscious effort on my part, and it seemed I could count on having 6 or 7 EP in my Essence pool at any given time. Well, six, realistically. The conversion rate as I transfered EP to the Mana pool was about two to one. I started my experiment with 6 EP, for which I got 3 MP. I had to do this twice to fill it up, which meant I could store a maximum of 6 MP in the Mana pool. And unlike the Essence pool, the Mana pool stayed full ¡ª I was the only one who could siphon it away, the only one who could use it. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.In the end and all things considered, I had 6 EP and 6 MP to use when the pools were full. Next, I drew on my Mana pool, coating one of my tentacles with the stuff. I counted the seconds up to a minute. As it turned out, it cost me half an MP to keep one tentacle mana-coated for one minute. I repeated the procedure once more, just to make sure I got it right. It was the same. Half an MP per minute. Next, I did the same with two tentacles, and it added up perfectly: 1 MP per minute for two tentacles. With this, my Mana pool was down to two-thirds, to 4 MP. I ladled 4 EP over to the Mana pool, and lo and behold, it became the exact 2 MP I¡¯d expected, bringing my Mana pool back to full at 6 MP. I was ecstatic. My brand new system of measurement worked: it made sense, it was absolutely fit for purpose, and no-one was around to tell me it was childish. This was a victory for me: a victory in a time of great discoveries about my new spiritual body. Sure, Spiritual Tentacle Horror sounded ¡­ hm ¡­ ominous, but I didn¡¯t care. This was me now and I had no choice but to accept it. I¡¯d spent most of my life just going with the flow. ¡°It is what it is, just deal with it!¡± had been my unsaid motto. Covering for Bert all the time so he could have more breaks than anyone else? It was what it was. Boss choosing someone else over me to manage the kitchen? It was what it was. Getting shot and then becoming a multi-tentacled spirit creature? Weird, but it was what it was. Sure, sometimes I got angry like anyone else, but it took a lot ¡ª for instance women in red dresses kidnapping the soul from my dead body. Anyhow, I liked to think that my mentality of quiet acceptance was a virtue rather than a vice, and it certainly made it easier to accept my new reality. I was a spirit in another world and I¡¯d likely never see anyone I knew ever again. It was what it was, and I just had to deal with it. But ¡­ how was I to deal with it? The answer came a day later in the form of an ant. *** It was just one ant at first. The little critter came out of the tunnel the worm had left behind. For the most part it looked like an ant of the normal, Earth variety: it had its black, segmented body, the usual six legs, wiggled its weird, little antennas, and ¡­ it had a pair of horns on its head, above its eyes. Long, sharp horns, like some insect-devil. It crawled into my tunnel, looking left and right, probably trying to decide which way to go. After a second or two, it looked my way and it came my way. It was unsettling ¡ª I wasn¡¯t an expert on bugs, but I was fairly certain ants weren¡¯t supposed to have horns. But more worrying than the horns was that ¡­ it was an ant. Just as the worm had been a worm. And I had a feeling that its size corresponded to the ants I knew from back home. That gave me a sense of scale. The ant crawled past me, not even noticing I was there, and I could feel my soul shudder. I stretched out all five of my tentacles, and even then I wasn¡¯t much bigger than the ant. I wasn¡¯t just a Spiritual Tentacle Horror. I was a tiny Spiritual Tentacle Horror. This place wasn¡¯t the system of tunnels and caves running for miles and miles as I had first thought, but a hole in the topsoil left by some purple earthworm. I could have been under the lawn in someone¡¯s garden for all I knew. Bollocks! This new and alarming certainty brought a slew of questions with it, questions I hadn¡¯t even thought of until now. Why was I so small? Was I a baby spirit? Is this how all spirits started out in the world, well, this world? And if I was a baby Tentacle Horror, was it the reason I couldn¡¯t move? Did I have to just ¡­ wait and grow and learn to walk like kids did? Wensah had said this particular spirit could eat and grow. But I didn''t feel hunger, didn''t feel the need to eat ever since I arrived here. And what did spirits eat anyway? Spirit-food? How was I to find some if I couldn¡¯t move in the first place? I spent some time pondering these questions, but all I could come up with were useless guesses and even more questions. Things weren¡¯t looking great. Then, another ant appeared. It was identical to the first one as far as I could tell, and just as the first one, it opted to come my way. It scuttled past me, following the first ant off into the distance behind me, disappearing as the tunnel turned. Then more ants came. One after another ten of them went past me, some of them through me as if I hadn¡¯t even been there. Now I knew how ghosts felt in movies when people walked through them without knowing. I could see a translucent outline over each ant, just as I¡¯d seen with the worm. I still wasn¡¯t a hundred percent sure, but I figured it must have been the soul, or spiritual body of the creatures. Maybe I could see it because I was a spirit myself and I was made of similar if not the same stuff. Spirit stuff. Yet, they walked through me with no resistance or reaction whatsoever. I was neither smart nor educated enough to speculate on theories of quantum mechanics and dimensions and such, and how they might relate to the nature of immaterial spirits, so I didn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t even sure how I was able to see and hear; seeing surely counted as an interaction with the physical, didn¡¯t it? Well, I wasn¡¯t a scientist, so I dropped the topic, happy I was able to see at all. Then, I simply watched as the ants marched on. After the twentieth of them, I was getting irritated. I did appreciate that something was happening ¡ª the alternative being a boring, empty tunnel ¡ª but I was feeling more and more helpless, just hovering there, completely immobile. Helpless? That ¡­ wasn¡¯t it. I felt jealous. Of the ants. They could move, and I couldn¡¯t. How was this fair? The ants were really putting my motto to the test. It was what it was ¡­ but did it have to be? *** I had enough. Thirty of the little buggers, thirty! They all marched on like soldiers, and I was still stuck in one place. My motto needed to be thrown out a window. I had to do something and if I couldn¡¯t join their march and go exploring, I at least wanted to vent my frustration. I activated the skill ¡°Mana-Glove¡± and I chuckled ¡ª it seemed I wasn¡¯t going to stop using the role playing game terminology, so when I willed Mana to coat two of my tentacles, I decided to call it a skill and I named it Mana-Glove. Because that¡¯s what it was, and there was no-one to stop me from doing so. Then ant number thirty-one came along. Chapter Four Chapter Four Ant number thirty-one looked exactly the same as all the previous ants. This time I wasn¡¯t going to just watch, I wasn¡¯t going to let it ignore me. My tentacles weren¡¯t prehensile: their pointy ends were clearly not made for grabbing things. But with Mana-Glove activated on two of them, I was certain I could at least push the little bugger off its course. I lunged the two tentacles towards the ant as it tried to crawl past me. The tips of my appendages connected with its body right where I aimed them: the abdomen and the thorax. Those were the words for them, right? The plan was to push the ant against the tunnel wall and let it wriggle around for a while. Teach it a lesson about the dangers of ignoring me. What actually happened was something else entirely. ¡®Oh, sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to do that,¡¯ I yelled out in a panic as my Mana-gloved tentacles pierced through the body of the insect. I retracted my tentacles, little bit of yellow goo sipping from the wounds as the ant stopped. It didn¡¯t make a sound, only its antennas moved around, its mandibles clacking, probably looking for the origin of the attack. Oh, I felt bad. I didn¡¯t mean to hurt the little fellow this badly. Was it going to die? Were the two, needle sized holes in it enough to kill it? Its yellow-ish blood visible in the wounds, I thought it was probably dying. Well, it didn¡¯t die. It walked on, somewhat wobbly. I wasn¡¯t sure if it would live ¡ª I knew almost nothing about ant anatomy, but it looked pretty bad. Regardless, number thirty-one walked away and disappeared into the tunnel behind me. I felt bad about this and I didn¡¯t know why. I must have squashed, sprayed, trapped and electrocuted hundreds if not thousands of bugs in my lifetime. Did I feel bad about any of them? No, I didn¡¯t. What was different now? Was it that this time it was up close and personal? That I saw its bug-face as I stabbed the critter? Maybe. I wasn¡¯t sure. But no. If I wanted to get anywhere, I couldn¡¯t just give in to this sudden and unwarranted feeling of guilt. A few seconds later ant number thirty-two appeared out of the worm-tunnel. *** The fate of ant number thirty-two was worse than that of its predecessor. Much worse. I decided not to punch or stab this one. Instead, as it reached me, I lifted both my Mana-Gloved tentacles and I slashed down at it. I hit it where the parts of its body were joined. My tentacles sliced right through, and the poor thing fell apart, the head, the abdomen and the thorax slumping to the ground, separated from each other. I killed an ant. I concentrated on not feeling guilty. It worked. It was an ant. There were plenty more, no-one would miss one, right? And I didn¡¯t think it was a thinking, feeling creature. It was an ant. As I observed my handiwork, or tentacle-work, the strangest thing happened. That faint outline of its spiritual body, or soul ¡ª as I preferred that word on account of being shorter and simpler ¡ª seemed to have a hard time catching up to the new, sliced up state if its physical counterpart. The soul stayed in one piece, standing over the dead ant parts, flickering and shifting like an image on an old TV with a bad signal. Then, after about ten seconds, it began to fade and it slowly disappeared. I wasn¡¯t sure if it went to ant-heaven, or it just ceased to exist, but it was no longer there. Was this what was going to happen to my soul, had that wretched Wensah not snatched it up? I didn¡¯t know and I couldn¡¯t be sure after just one experiment. Perhaps a human soul was large and complex enough for something else to happen to it after death. It was a lot to take in, a lot to digest and to think about. It was kind of a big question, but as big as it was, and as much as it intrigued me, I didn¡¯t think it had any bearing on my current predicament of not being able to move. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and waited for ant number thirty-three. *** I deactivated Mana-Glove as I waited for the next ant. My MP stood at five and a half, but I didn¡¯t want to waste it while waiting. Then it came. Ant number thirty-three crawled out of the tunnel. I readied myself to activate Mana-Glove again and waited for it to come. The ant approached, and I was just about to activate the skill and fling a tentacle at it, when the ant stopped. It stopped at the dead, chopped up body of its fellow ant, flailed its antennas around, turning its horned head left and right. Oh. So ¡­ it was investigating the murder scene? Maybe. What a conscientious little bug. That illusion shattered quickly when the ant opened its mandibles and bit into the severed abdomen of its brother. It lifted it up and walked away with it. So much for not disturbing the crime scene. I wasn¡¯t sure what an ant colony¡¯s stance on food was. I vaguely remembered that ants might be a little cannibalistic, not willing to waste the bodies of fallen comrades. If that was the case, it was a disturbing yet frugal approach to food management. The fact that ant numbers thirty-four and thirty-five carried away the rest of the dead body seemed to confirm my suspicion. I repeated this process once more; ant number thirty-six become prey to my tentacles, ending up in pieces. Then, ant numbers thirty-seven to thirty-nine carried the pieces of their comrade away exactly the same way as it had happened before. The conclusion of this experiment was this: with my Mana-Glove skill I had the means to defend myself. And it was redundant. I was a spirit. For all intents and purposes I was invisible and intangible. As much as I liked the skill, it was no use to me at the moment, unless I wanted to take up stationary ant-slaying as a hobby. Which I didn¡¯t. I needed to try something else. Something new. But what? *** Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I was deep in thought, but I still counted the ants. Ant number fifty was crawling past when my mind circled back to an earlier thought, one I''d had when the worm passed through my tunnel. I was a spirit. The worm as well as the ants had a spiritual body, a soul. So far there didn¡¯t seem to be any interaction between my body and their souls, even though they seemed similar enough. But that didn¡¯t feel right. If I was a spirit, and if their souls were made of similar stuff, there must have been a way to ¡­ to what? Touch them? Would that even help with my problems? I wasn¡¯t sure, but that was the only thing I could think of, and pretty much the only thing I could try. Killing them didn¡¯t do me any good, yelling at them was just as effective, so what did I have to lose? Besides my sanity? Ant number fifty was lucky ¡ª I let it pass. It scurried away, disappearing into the tunnel behind me. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced I could do it. It might have been my Tentacle Horror instinct at work, but I was almost certain I could at touch the souls of the critters. My body responded to my will much like a physical body would have, so did my Essence Pool, and Mana itself responded as if it was a part of my body. In conclusion, maybe I just had to will it enough and I could touch the soul of an ant. Or any creature. Now this, this felt right, and ant number fifty-one was going to be the unfortunate soul to help me prove my new hypothesis. *** Fifty-one crawled into view. It left the worm-tunnel and it was coming my way. I was ready. It came into tentacle range, and I reached for it. I willed two of my tentacles to touch it, to touch its soul. It was going to work. I was sure it was going to work. I could feel it. I wrapped my two tentacles around the ant, quickly, before it could get past me. Then I squeezed, putting all my willpower into it. Grab! Grab the little bugger! Grab it! My tentacles didn¡¯t disappoint, and fifty-one was in my clutches. The ant stopped in its tracks, its body trembling as I pulled. What happened next surprised me: I plucked the soul out of the ant. It was the weirdest thing I¡¯d ever seen or done. Fifty-one slumped to the ground, and I held the soul of an ant with my two tentacles. A translucent, wire-frame schematic of the creature, separated from where it was meant to be, glimmering against the dim darkness of the tunnel. I gawked at it. I gawked at the body of the critter as it lay on the ground, then I gawked some more. I had not expected this to happen. Then again, I hadn¡¯t been entirely sure what to expect to begin with. I held a soul before me. I had taken it and it was mine. I felt a strange sensation. I felt a ¡­ taste? Not quite a taste, but that was the closest thing I could compare it to. It was enticing. Alluring. Sweet. I didn¡¯t know what went through my mind, if there was anything at all going through it ¡ª I simply wanted the sensation to last. My vision narrowed down to the soul in the clutches of my tentacles, my focus solely on the shimmering apparition of an ant. And that taste ¡ª it flooded me and filled me, like it was the first time I had chocolate, or ice-cream. It was wondrous. My tentacles coiled and tightened even without my say-so, and they squeezed, cracking the soul. It broke and it changed, and it ¡­ struggled. The struggle didn¡¯t last long. It moved its soul-legs and soul-antennas a little, then it stopped, and in a span of long seconds the soul melted away, and my tentacles soaked it up. I could taste it as the soul stuff flowed into my body. I felt a hunger and a thirst and an emptiness I didn¡¯t know I had quenched and filled, and I felt strength and satisfaction. It wasn¡¯t exactly the fine dining experience I was used to, but there was no denying the dreadful fact: I ate a soul. *** I stopped counting the ants after fifty-one. One by one they scuttled past, carrying fifty-one¡¯s body away. I saw them do it, but I wasn¡¯t paying attention. The taste of the soul still lingered in the entirety of my body, and to say I had mixed feelings about eating a soul was an understatement. It happened fast and it happened by instinct, rather than will. Tentacle Horror instinct. I remembered Wensah¡¯s words: the creature I¡¯d become was animalistic. Predatory. It would eat and eat and eat and grow. What else had she said? That any Grand Spirit would kill it on sight? Yes. That¡¯s what she¡¯d said. I didn¡¯t know who or what else inhabited this world. I didn¡¯t know if there were intelligent beings here who might have developed the same concepts Earth had, such as right or wrong, holy or unholy, good or evil. Given how similar the few things I¡¯d seen so far were, I imagined there might just be some sort of people living in this world. And these Grand Sprirts, they might as well be the gods of this world for all I knew. I couldn¡¯t know for sure, but the idea made sense. I imagined they would hold something like the soul sacred, inviolable, just like most religions did back home. And I imagined they would view a soul-eating creature as something wrong, unholy and evil. Souls were obviously not to be eaten. And I¡¯d eaten one. I had to face the fact that in my new life I was predator. A devourer of souls. A dangerous monster that took what was holy and consumed it. I re-focused my vision. There was no sign of any divine judgment approaching me, so that was good. Maybe these Grand Spirits drew the line at eating the souls of humans, or whatever equivalent creatures may live around here, and animals were fair game. It seemed I¡¯d got away with the sacrilegious act of robbing an insect of its soul. Then I remembered something else Wensah had said: with my human soul in control of the body of this Spiritual Tentacle Horror, it was as harmless as it could be. That statement suddenly made a lot of sense. An animalistic, predatory creature wouldn¡¯t have any moral dilemmas; it would eat and eat and eat and grow, as its animalistic instincts guided it. I couldn¡¯t lie: eating the ant-soul was pure ecstasy, overwhelmingly so, but despite that, I didn¡¯t feel the need to eat. I didn¡¯t feel hungry. The ant was just a small critter, and I imagined the taste and the experience would get better and better further up the food chain. But unlike an animal that didn¡¯t have a choice but to follow its instincts, I could control and choose what I did, what I ate, and how I conducted myself. I waited a little bit, a day or so, just to make sure there was no retribution coming my way from the heavens. None came, and it was time to decide how I wanted to conduct myself as Spritual Tentacle Horror. I decided I wanted to conduct myself as a mobile Spritual Tentacle Horror as opposed to a stationary one, and in order to do so, I needed to know how else I could interact with the souls of animals besides eating them. I was sure no-one would miss a few more ant-souls from ant-heaven. Chapter Five Chapter Five Over the next few days my experiments were both a success and a failure. They were a success because ant-souls tasted as good as ever. They were a failure because eating seemed to be the only thing I could do to them so far. After the sixth ant-soul I¡¯d eaten, I felt I was getting full. I didn¡¯t know how spirit-stuff worked. As far as I could tell, I was roughly the size of an ant; my spherical body was about as big as an ant¡¯s head, and my tentacles were maybe one and a half, perhaps two centimeters when stretched out, and as thin as Chinese noodles. What this meant was that I¡¯d eaten at least six times my spiritual body mass already. I had no idea where all the food was going. There was no waste leaving my body, I wasn¡¯t even sure if I had a spiritual digestive system. I just absorbed the souls through my tentacles, and ¡­ they were gone. Yet I felt full. It didn¡¯t make sense. Where was my stomach? And on that note, where was my Essence pool? Or where was my Mana pool? Was I some bottomless pit? I didn¡¯t think so. I had a feeling that the rules of physics didn¡¯t quite apply when it came to the apparent size of my body. Must be some weird, spacial-dimensional shenanigans at play here, but I wasn¡¯t an expert or a scientist, and my suspicion was mostly based on sci-fi shows I¡¯d watched. Well, regardless of how it worked, I was getting full, I felt it. I ate my seventh ant-soul and I was no longer getting full. I was full. I suddenly felt bloated, like I had just gobbled down two or three plates of full English at a cheap cafe where the cook firmly believed grease was the basis for all life. I couldn¡¯t eat another soul even if I tried. What to do now? I closed my imaginary eyes and I focused on myself. The tunnel vanished from my sight as I shut my vision down completely. Feeling my tentacles was more vivid, more substantial an experience than seeing. And they weren¡¯t like they had been before. All five of them were still drawing Essence into them, but Essence flowed through them slower. It was obstructed, and as I willed my non-visual perception to take closer and closer looks, I realised it was some of the consumed spirit stuff that did the obstructing; spirit stuff that was both there and not there. The broken down souls were an intangible, liquid mass that filled my tentacles as well as my spherical body, and at the same time it didn¡¯t. But I could feel it and I had a much clearer mental picture of what happened to all the soul-ants I¡¯d eaten. They became pure spirit stuff, ready to be used as ¡­ as ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure, but my Tentacle Horror instinct came to my aid once again. All the souls I''d eaten were ready to be used as the material for growth. I. Could. Grow. Not only I could grow, but my instinct was telling me I could choose whether I wanted said growth to manifest as a growth of my tentacles, or my spherical body. However, my instinct also told me I couldn¡¯t do both; it was either or. Still, I was getting somewhere. I gave it some thought. I considered growing my tentacles; I believed they¡¯d get longer, maybe thicker, too, but in the end of the day, I didn¡¯t need more reach, not yet, and if the need arose, I could alway eat a few more ants. So, I was left with the option of growing my body, and I did just that. Based on my previous experience, all I needed to do was to make a conscious decision and will it to happen. And it happened. It was a strange sensation: I felt a part of my body I couldn¡¯t see. I felt I was stretching, expanding, like a balloon being filled with helium. It happened slowly but steadily, and as my body, grew the accumulated Spirit-Stuff disappeared. Then, it was done. My first growths spurt was finished. It was time to take stock. Looking at my visible body, I estimated it grew maybe two millimeters in diameter. I was still tiny, but progress was progress, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood to complain. I checked on my pools. Both my Essence and my Mana pools had grown. I did a mental before and after comparison, and some quick calculations later I determined that my Essence pool¡¯s capacity changed from 8 to 10, and my Mana Pool from 6 to 7. The rate at which I could fill my Essence Pool remained the same: 1 EP per minute. It still didn¡¯t require me to be consciously involved, and I believed I could increase the rate of collection by growing my tentacles instead of my body. I decided I¡¯d do that next, once I¡¯d eaten my fill of souls again. My Tentacle Horror instinct was tugging at me, telling me there was something else that had changed, but it was a vague feeling, and no matter how much I meditated and focused, I couldn¡¯t find or figure out what it was. Well, I supposed it could wait. I tried to will myself to move, but nothing happened. Well, I hadn¡¯t expected much to change in that department, so I wasn¡¯t overly disappointed. I was just happy that I¡¯d grown a bit. And I wanted to grow again. I didn¡¯t know how many ant souls I¡¯d need to eat this time around, but it was going to be more than seven ¡ª not only it made sense, I could also feel it. Luckily, the ants seemed to be in plentiful supply. It was bit like how Experience Points worked in games: with each new level you¡¯d need more of it to reach the next. So sticking to my previously established gaming analogy, this qualified as a level-up. Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 1 to Level 2. I supposed I could use my growth as a basis for levels, although I wasn¡¯t sure how consistent it was going to be. But, for the lack of any other ideas, I just went with the idea. The amount I¡¯d needed to eat to grow was now Experience Points, or EXP, and each time I grew would represent a new level. I smiled mentally: setting myself up as a game character was ¡­ ridiculous. It really was. But I had reasonable excuses and justifications. Firstly, not being able to move resulted in way too much time on my tentacles. Even though this new world and my new state of existence weren¡¯t a game, thinking about it in those terms was fun, and fun had the potential to keep me off the path that led to boredom, despair and possibly insanity. Well, I knew people back home who¡¯d probably argue I was already a lunatic thinking about points and levels in my situation, but in the end of day, they weren¡¯t here. I was. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Secondly, quantifying and keeping track of my resources was something I considered important, and my resources weren¡¯t conventional now, were they? What made more sense and what sounded better: ¡°I had two-hundred grams of Essence and half a liter of magic stuff in my spiritual storage organs¡± or ¡°I had 9 EP and 7 MP¡±. With that settled, and successfully having reached Level 2, I considered my next move. My next experiment. *** My Tentacle Horror instinct kept trying to tell me something, and it bothered me that I didn¡¯t know what it was. There was something else that was new, something that I could do. It was right there in front of me, but ¡­ it wasn¡¯t. This was annoying, like a tune stuck in your head, knowing that you knew what song it was, but you just couldn¡¯t recall it, and the more you tried the further away it got from you. So the best thing to do was to not think about it. I didn¡¯t count the ants any more; I just watched them as they crawled by. I wasn¡¯t sure how many ants were in an average colony, but I guessed they must have numbered in the thousands. The fact that they kept coming and coming seemed to support the idea. I watched them for half a day at least and I almost forgot all about that annoying tune stuck in my head when the answer just jumped out at me. The song I was looking for was ¡­ Essence. And it made sense. I recalled how the accumulated spirit-stuff from the ants obstructed the flow of Essence as my tentacles gathered it. It meant Essence was capable of interacting with the Spirit-Stuff. My tentacles were capable of gathering it, my Essence pool was capable of containing it: all interactions. And the feeling I got from all this was that I could probably use Essence for something, something other than making Mana and paying a tithe to Wensah. Essence wasn¡¯t responsive like Mana. As far as I could tell it was largely inert. My tentacles gathered it and moved it into the pool. When I wanted Mana, the Essence Pool did the hard work of pouring it over to the Mana-Pool. And Wensah just sucked her dues out of the Essence Pool as if through a straw. Essence really didn¡¯t do much on its own and it certainly didn¡¯t respond to my will like my own body or Mana did. So the consumed, broken down souls - the Spirit Stuff - was my EXP; the fuel for my growth and my levels. Mana was the magic stuff that let me interact with the physical world around me and do things. Essence was ¡­ what was Essence? It was time to find out. The only thing I could think to try was to see how an ant-soul would react if I splashed some Essence on it. If I could gather it and store it, surely I could also eject some of it from my body. I willed my Essence pool to push one EP¡¯s worth of the stuff back out into my body, then I willed one of my tentacles to ¡­ well, suck it into itself and push it to the tip. It worked: the tentacle stopped collecting Essence from the air and moved the inert EP I¡¯d taken out of the pool all the way to its tip. I didn¡¯t have to wait long; my tunnel was a popular hiking route for the critters, and not a minute went by without at least one or two ants coming and going. The ant came ¡ª it must have been the thousandth I¡¯d seen. I flung my tentacle at it and I ejected the Essence. The Essence left, making it to the outside. Other than that, nothing else happened. The ant crawled past me, and I just hovered there, looking at the stuff stuck to tip of my tentacle on the outside. Huh. Why did I even expect anything else? Mana had done the same at first, hadn¡¯t it? It seemed I couldn¡¯t re-absorb it, I couldn¡¯t even shake it off, no matter how much I flailed the tentacle around. Oh damn! What now? It took a minute for the next ant to show up, and by that time I was throughly frustrated with that single EP stuck to my tentacle. This was annoying. It was akin to the kind of weirdness when you put a jacket on, your sweater¡¯s sleeves rolling up to your elbows when sliding your arms through the jacket¡¯s sleeves. It was the sort of thing that had no right or reason to be as annoying as it was. The ant approached, and I was determined to wipe the Essence off my tentacle onto its soul. I wasn¡¯t sure how that would work, but I hoped Essence would prefer to stick to the ant rather than me. I brushed my tentacle against the critter as it reached me. The ant stopped and shuddered. I stopped and shuddered. Something happened, I felt it. I tried to pull my tentacle away from the insect, but I couldn¡¯t. It stuck to the ant¡¯s soul. For a moment I panicked, not knowing what was happening. My tentacle, instead of coming away, sunk into the ant-soul. Not deep, just a little bit. Then my metaphorical jaw dropped. The Essence, that single EP¡¯s worth of Essence, moved. That inert stuff I¡¯d thought was never going to do anything on its own, started doing something. It changed and it morphed. It became hundreds of long threads, or filaments, or wiring, so thin I could barely sense them. But I did sense them; they perforated the tip of my tentacle, too, the part that I¡¯d lodged into the ant soul, and they spread inside my body the same way they spread inside the soul of the ant. In a second, I sensed a hundred microscopic Essence-wires running through every part of the ant-soul. And I could feel, I could hear what went on inside it. Well, it wasn¡¯t much. I didn¡¯t think it was thoughts, it was more like an instinct driven imperative. If I had to sum it up in one word, that word was: work. Work! Work! Work! That was all that that drove the ant. It wasn¡¯t much of a surprise ¡ª there was a reason ants had a reputation for being hard workers, and it seemed that reputation held up even in this world. But the Essence! It felt like I¡¯d just discovered that Essence was nothing less than the nectar of the gods. In reality, it was more a combination of spiritual glue and data cables. I couldn¡¯t withdraw my tentacle; it was stuck to the ant-soul as if Essence had glued, or soldered it onto it. And the connection it had created between me and the soul, that was something else. I basked in the sensation. It was strange, it was unique, it was comforting. I wasn¡¯t sure how the ant experienced this new state of being connected, but it didn¡¯t move for long seconds. Then, out of a sudden it decided there was nothing out of the ordinary happening, and it went on its way, following its ant instinct, pushing it to work and work. And the ant dragged me with it. Chapter Six Chapter Six I was moving. Holy shit I really was moving! I didn¡¯t even care that I was nothing more than the trailer behind the car, I was moving. The tunnel walls whooshed past me, or at least that¡¯s what it felt like as the ant crawled along at a comfortable pace. And I had Essence to thank for it. No wonder Wensah wanted the stuff for herself. Anchoring or tethering myself to the ant with Essence was one thing. But not only seeing but feeling the ant¡¯s soul? I felt connected. It was like suddenly getting internet access after living in a cave. Sure, it was only an ant, but a loneliness I hadn''t even noticed until now, suddenly became less. And the cherry on the cake? I. Was. Moving. Well, I was dragged along, but motion was motion. Essence collection dropped by a fifth as the tentacle stopped collecting the stuff ¡ª it was now a dedicated tether and sort of a communication line to the ant¡¯s soul, although the only thing I could sense from the ant was its dedication to work. I was alright with that because I was moving. Luckily I could still move that particular tentacle, and lo and behold, I pulled myself up onto the back of the ant-soul. I was no longer the trailer. I was the rider. It was as marvelous as it was weird. The ant crawled along the tunnel, my spherical body hovering a millimeter above it. It was just then that I noticed something: the tentacle that connected me to the ant wasn¡¯t taut. It was completely slack, coiling around, the sharp tip of it the only point of contact between me and the ant. I wasn¡¯t really riding it and I wasn¡¯t really being pulling, at least not in the traditional sense, and certainly not by any rules of physics I''d ever heard of. I felt no air resistance or inertia, or any other things associated with movement. I had no idea how all this worked, but it seemed that as long as our connection existed, my body would just follow wherever the ant-soul went. It was good enough for me, and there was no immediate need to sweat the details. And then, I saw where all the ants that had crawled past me over the last few days had been going. *** We arrived in an open space, a crater of a sort. As we exited the tunnel into this huge hole in the ground, I saw the sky of this world for the first time. It was blue. Blue. Like home. And there were clouds. Like home. I even saw something fly across and disappear over the edge of the crater, like a bird or a plane, or maybe Superman, but I didn¡¯t hold my breath. It was a familiar sight, and by all that was holy I needed it and I soaked it in. And while I soaked in the sight of brilliant blues and whites and sunshine, I also observed the crater itself. From my tiny little vantage point the crater seemed enormous; in reality, it must have been about a meter across, and twenty, thirty centimeters deep, and that was my best guesstimate. In a word, it was unremarkable. It might have been dug out by a larger animal, or a gardener, who knew? It didn¡¯t matter. The ongoings within this earthen trap however did matter. Not to me. To the ants. A vicious, full scale battle was raging in this little crater of death, where my familiar, black ants were fighting a large force of red ants. And from what I saw, this fight was going to be fought to the bitter end. *** I had seen ants fight before; we used to live in a detached house when I was a kid. We had a backyard, and there were all sorts of bugs there, including ants. I never gave the little critters any more then a minute of my time back then, but sometimes their war would spill over onto the patio, and I had a vague memory of seeing different colored ants wrestling with each other. But to a kid back in the day, there were more important things to watch than ant wars. Like Saturday morning cartoons. Seeing ants from up above, it was just some bugs going at it. From down here at eye-level, it was something else. It could have been just a skirmish, or the final battle of a long war, I didn¡¯t know. But the battle was brutal. Unrelenting. Apocalyptic. This wasn¡¯t just some bugs going at it. This was thousands of otherworldly monsters tearing each other apart. I was shocked and horrified in equal measure. Reds surrounded Blacks in twos and threes, Blacks ganged up on Reds, stabbing with their horns, maiming with their mandibles, and killing. Segmented legs, heads and other parts littered the ground. And as more and more ants died, more and more of them poured forth from tunnels all over the crater, joining the fray. It was chaos. It was wholesale slaughter without a single thought to casualties. And it was silent. Ants didn¡¯t scream. There were no war-cries. Only violence. Until this moment, I¡¯d thought only us, humans, were capable and willing to go to such lengths to exterminate each other. I¡¯d thought only man had the willingness to organize and conduct murder on such a scale. We fought all the time; an invasion here, a world war there; I¡¯d thought it was a human thing. The ants proved me wrong. Outsiders! Work! Outsiders! Work! These were the words that came to mind as my connection with Jack informed me what was going on inside of his little head. Yes, I¡¯d named my ant Jack. And I was fairly certain that when Jack thought ¡°work¡±, what he meant was ¡°kill¡±. And he did not hesitate: Jack went to work, dragging me with him. We descended from the tunnel to the bottom of the crater some twenty centimeters below, and we were in the middle of it. *** Jack rushed forward and immediately teamed up with three other black ants. They didn¡¯t need to look for an enemy for longer then a second: Reds were everywhere. Jack¡¯s squad attacked the nearest one. The Red was larger then Jack or his comrades, but it was alone. The Blacks surrounded it, biting into it from all sides. Before the Red even knew what had happened, it was in pieces. Two Reds approached from the sides. I activated Mana-Glove and I lashed out at one of them as it charged at us. It would have rammed Jack with its horns, but two of my tentacles came down on it like the righteous hammer of God, splitting its head into three pieces. It¡¯s soul stayed there, standing, but I didn¡¯t get the chance to grab it and eat it. Jack¡¯s squad moved to block the way of the other Red. Horns stabbing, mandibles clacking ¡ª one more Red and one Black dead. Jack¡¯s squad was down to three. Then the squad moved again before I could claim the souls of the fallen. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. From the chaos of battle two Blacks appeared at our side, moving forward with us. Squad was up to five members and already singled out the next Red. I had to give it to the critters: they knew the meaning of the word teamwork. Work! Outsiders! Work! Jack was committed, and I had no choice but to tag along and engage in warfare. I didn¡¯t mind, to be honest. As it turned out, war was an all-you-can-eat buffet for me. I just needed to slow Jack down somehow, so I could actually grab a few of the souls left lying around every second. And with hundreds of ants on the left, hundreds of ants on the right and thousands in front, souls were plenty. I kept Mana-Glove active on two of my tentacles. My MP was ticking down, but the Reds kept coming, charging at the just as many Blacks around, fighting and dying. Some Reds still slipped through, and I had to defend Jack. Unfortunately, Jack was going too fast with his squad, and I couldn¡¯t properly wrap my other two tentacles around the souls of the dead ¡ª briefly brushing against them as we crawled past wasn¡¯t enough to start consuming them. ¡®Slow down! Stop!¡¯ I yelled at Jack in frustration, putting all my mental power into it. Jack slid to a halt. Ah. So he did listen if I yelled loud enough. The squad pressed on, but Jack stood still next to a Red I¡¯d just slain. Another Red charged us, and I chopped it up. Jack still didn¡¯t move. Work? The thought, or whatever it was, came across more a question that a statement. ¡®Yeah, in a minute. Just wait!¡¯ I said to him. Who would have thought there would be a time in my life when I¡¯d be having rudimentary conversations with an ant. I reached out with my tentacles: one tentacle to each of the two Red souls on either sides. I stabbed through both souls at the same time, as deep as I could, and I ate. It went slower than it had in the tunnel ¡ª there I¡¯d used two tentacles on each soul. Still, in as little as five seconds, my tentacles sucked them up like soul-smoothies through a straw. It was great. The taste filled me, and I was ready to move onto the next. ''Alrighty Jack, onward!¡¯ I ordered him and I rode into battle on an ant. *** Jack responded to my orders well. I yelled directions at him and at the same time I sent mental images as to what those directions looked like. Left and right wasn¡¯t something he understood, but ¡°this way¡± and ¡°that way¡± paired with the images seemed to do the trick, and I got the hang of it quickly. This was definitely a skill in its own right. I decided to call it: Critter Control. The Reds were still everywhere. But so were the Blacks. There was no end in sight, my MP was ticking down steadily, but I couldn¡¯t afford the luxury of leaving Jack undefended. Whether we moved or stopped to eat, there was an enemy waiting to kill my ant. I was ideally suited to protect him: I saw in all directions, so there was no surprising us, and none could stand before my mighty Mana-Gloved tentacles. We joined squads and left squads as we prowled the battlefield. By the time I consumed my eleventh ant-soul, I had half an MP left. My Essence pool was at 7, and it was time to get turne it into MP. But before I could start doing it, a squad of Reds rushed us. Four of them saw Jack, all alone, and they attacked. I flung my two Mana-Gloved tentacles at them in an instant. Jack clacked his mandibles in a panic. They were going to get us. I killed one of them, but I couldn¡¯t fend the remaining three off all at once, not with only two tentacles. They were on us in a second. I wrapped my two un-gloved tentacles around Jack, wanting to protect him, to shield him. I knew full well that my immaterial appendages were incapable of doing so, but it was instinct that made me perform the act. Whether it was my old human or new Tentacle Horror instinct, I neither knew nor cared. Then I felt Mana leaving the pool, the last half an MP sinking down to a quarter, the Mana-Gloves disappearing as their supply was cut off. The first of the Reds rammed into Jack. Oh no! Jack! This was the end, wasn¡¯t it? It wasn¡¯t. My faithful little buddy, Jack, shrugged off the attack. The horns of the Reds slid off his torso, not even leaving a scratch. But no, that wasn¡¯t right. They left scratches ¡ª not on Jack¡¯s body, but on a faintly shimmering coat of Mana that covered him. The Reds surrounded us, stabbing and biting, their reward nothing but tiny clumps of Mana falling off the invisible armor that Jack now wore. My Mana pool was almost empty, a tenth of an MP remaining, trickling down as it streamed to replenish the armor. I wasted no time: I willed my Essence Pool to pour all seven EP it had into the Mana-Pool. I was back to three and a half MP. With the stream of Mana renewed, Jack¡¯s armor held, scratches and gouges closing and disappearing. Jack gave as good as he got: his mandibles chomped on the Reds, who failed to realize their attacks were ineffective. As long as I had MP, Jack was invincible. I was more than just startled by this new development: with only a half-conscious desire on my part to protect Jack, Mana acted. I didn¡¯t know it could do that. Then again, there were a lot of things I didn¡¯t know. Nonetheless, I was impressed and ¡­ a little bit worried. Would Mana act on its own again, for instance if I got angry with someone and had an impulse to punch or to kill the person? Or ant? Did I have to be careful what I felt and what I wished for? Well, those questions had to wait ¡ª the battle was still raging, and this new skill I¡¯d just learned was consuming MP at a rate of one and a half per minute. Jack ¡ª invincible as he was now ¡ª made short work of his attackers. He chomped and skewered them to death. I ordered him to stand still for a few seconds and I used all four of my now free tentacles to eat the souls of the four Reds. At fifteen souls consumed, I was feeling that same sensation of getting full again. I was close. I was maybe a soul or two away from leveling up again, and I was determined to make it happen while I still had enough MP to maintain Mana-Armor on Jack. I steered him to turn around and go to where the fighting was the fiercest. *** Work! Work! Work! Jack crawled forward steadily, and if I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d have said he was happy to be heading into the thick of it. We crawled over and around ant bodies, little twigs and leaves, blades of yellowed grass, and in half a minute we joined the fray where large and menacing looking Reds and Blacks were hacking away at each other with abandon. I suspected these ants were the dedicated soldiers of both sides: they were larger, their heads bigger and their horns longer, their mandibles something straight out of a horror movie. It didn¡¯t matter ¡ª Mana-Armor held, and I still had over two MP left, and my EP pool filling steadily. I quickly navigated us to a couple of freshly killed Black soldier ants; their souls were still there, and I grabbed one of them. My four tentacles mushed it and absorbed it in a second. I was full, and I could grow again. I knew I¡¯d decided earlier it would be my tentacles I¡¯d grow this time, but I needed a larger Mana pool. So I grew my body and I reached Level Three. Chapter Seven Chapter Seven As soon a my growth was done, I gobbled up the other ant-soul before it could disappear. This war of the ants was kind of horrifying, but it was my opportunity to keep leveling, and I wasn¡¯t going to let it go to waste. Level 3 brought the maximum of my Essence Pool to 12, and my Mana Pool to 8. Unfortunately, I only had about 2 EP and 2 MP in them. It wasn¡¯t much, but put together I could keep Mana-Armor going for another two, two and a half minutes. It didn¡¯t seem like a long time, but on a battlefield as dense and crowded as this, I could go around scavenging and eat a soul every ten seconds or so, and even Jack could find some adversaries to satisfy his own blood-lust-slash-dedication-to-work. So I steeled myself, and I ordered Jack to move. *** I just consumed my fifth ant-soul since my level-up, when I noticed something. In the distance, maybe thirty centimeters from me, there was something else fighting its own battle against both Reds and Blacks. It looked something like a chunky, horned grasshopper, a giant by ant standards ¡ª its body could have been as long as five centimeters. A couple of its legs were missing already, one of its wings was half-gone. No matter how much it flapped the damaged wings, no matter how much it tried to crawl away, it couldn¡¯t escape from the dozens of Reds and Blacks holding it under constant assault. It seemed the poor thing had been caught in the crossfire as the two colonies clashed, and neither sides were willing to let it go. One and a half MP left. I used the 2 EP I had, topping my Mana pool up to two and a half. It was enough for just under two minutes of Mana-Armor, and I decided to gamble. ¡®Alright, Jack, you think we could get to that grasshopper? I¡¯m feeling peckish,¡¯ I said to him. Work! I knew Jack would agree. *** It took Jack a whole twenty seconds to make his way through the numerous, warring ants standing between us and the grasshopper. I felt a little bit of resistance from Jack every time we came close to a Red; he really wanted to work ¡ª which meant attacking and dismembering the enemy, but I was firm in my commands, and he followed my direction. 2 MP left. We arrived. Reds fought the grasshopper. Blacks fought the grasshopper. Reds and Blacks fought each other. This small battle-royale within the larger clash of the colonies was the kind that could have only one winner. Only one man standing in the end. And that was going to be me. I let Jack loose, and he threw himself at a Red with the justifiable abandon of someone wearing impenetrable armor. I didn¡¯t need to do much ¡ª the grasshopper was on its last leg, both metaphorically and literally, and I was sure the minute and a half we had left would be more than enough to watch the bug die and eat its soul. As it turned out, I had been right to gamble on this. The grasshopper finally succumbed to the vicious, combined attacks of Reds and Blacks: it fell on its side and left its giant soul standing above it. I ordered Jack to go as close to it as he could. Most of the Reds and Blacks were still busy, hacking away at the dead bug, or at each other, and we got into tentacle range without issue. The soul was too large to wrap my tentacles around it, so I just thrust all four of them into it, willing them to consume it. The taste! It flooded my entire being as my tentacles began their work. The ants were good. This was better. It was the difference between a fast food burger joint and a five star steakhouse. And I savored it. It went slowly: twenty seconds later, half of that soul was still out there, broken and formless thanks to my tentacles, but still there. And I was getting full already. I had a minute¡¯s worth of MP left to keep Jack armored. Ten seconds passed. I was really, really getting full. Another ten seconds: I was full. I hated to leave a third of that grasshopper-soul to waste away into the air, but I was full, and my stock of MP could only keep Jack safe for another half a minute. I converted what little EP I¡¯d collected to MP, buying ourselves another thirty or forty seconds. It was time to retreat. I ordered Jack to hightail it out of here, pushing a mental image of him running at speed. Jack bolted. Or ¡­ would have bolted. New Reds came. From the sky. Flying. Flying bloody red ants, and they landed right on top of us and the other Blacks around us. The battle took on a brand new turn. The winged ants, even larger than the dedicated soldiers, were everywhere. Dozens of them, arriving one after another. Granted, some of them were more interested in tasting the dead grasshopper than fighting, but some fell upon the Blacks, and when that happened, it was a massacre. In a matter of seconds Jack was the only black ant standing. We were surrounded, being stabbed and bitten from all sides. I was out of EP. I had just about half an MP in my pool. We weren¡¯t going to make it. Jack, my faithful champion who wore the armor I''d granted him, was going to fall in this battle because of my gamble. The Reds won. We lost. ¡®No!¡¯ I screamed. ¡®Die Reds, die!¡¯ I wasn''t sure if it was my idea or it came solely from my Tentacle Horror instinct: I ejected the remaining half an MP all at once, adding it to the Mana in Jack¡¯s armor, willing it to expand out in all directions at as high a speed as it could. Mana exploded outward from Jack¡¯s body. It was like a hand-grenade going off. I even heard a tiny squeak of a boom, and a shockwave swept everything away. Reds flew everywhere, many of them shredded to bits. The fliers were struck from the air and fell. Earth and dust, even bits of the grasshopper drizzled in the air. Wow! That was something. Even Jack stood there, absolutely gobsmacked. Work? Then I laughed as I saw an area around me, at least ten centimeters in radius, cleared of life, cleared of Reds, cleared of everything. I laughed. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡®Hahaha! See this? See this? Tremble before me, for I am the Ant-God! I bring judgment upon you, vile Reds! Tremble before Jack, my champion!¡¯ Hearing my own, hollow voice, I stopped yelling and I shuddered. What was I saying? I was losing it, wasn¡¯t I? Going insane? Already? No, no, no. This was not good. I had to get out of here. At my command, Jack shot forward, heading to the rear lines. *** In this ant war there were no clear lines, front or rear. But there were areas the Reds had not reached yet. One such area was near the tunnel from which Jack an I had emerged earlier. It felt like it had been ages ago, but in reality it couldn¡¯t have been more than ten minutes. Regardless, we reached this rear-line area, and I could finally let the mental breath I¡¯d been holding out. I told Jack to stop and wait. I was full, and I had some growing to do. This time, it was tentacles. All five of them started growing at the same time, and while that was happening, I observed this place: the rear lines. Countless Blacks scurried in all directions, everyone doing something, carrying something. Body-parts of fallen ants, both red and black, leaves and grass, anything, really, black workers hauling everything off into the tunnels. Trophies, or food for their queen, or for their young? Something like that, probably. And at the same time, more and more Blacks were arriving from the tunnels, heading into battle without a moment''s hesitation. My tentacles stopped growing, reaching their new length, and with that, I reached the next level. Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 3 to Level 4. My tentacles had doubled in length; by my estimate, they¡¯d grown from one and a half centimeters to at least three, or more. They were still as thin as noodles, but my reach had increased drastically. I looked at my Essence Pool: it was filling somewhat faster than before, but it¡¯s maximum capacity remained the same, though. My Mana Pool hadn''t grown either. It was a bit disappointing, but it seemed their growth was tied to my main body''s growth. On the other hand, I had acquired a new skill. It was a deadly one ¡ª that blast was no joke. It had blown away everything in a ten centimeter radius around me, shredding everything to bits. It really was like a bomb, or a grenade made of Mana. It was a weapon of last resort if I ever found myself surrounded again by nothing but tangible enemies. And I had a feeling the more MP I put into it, the larger and more powerful the blast would be. So, I named it: Mana-Blast. Jack wanted to go to work, but I ordered him to stay and to wait. So, we waited. It took somewhere between nine and ten minutes for my Essence pool to fill up; this meant the rate of Essence collection had increased by about twenty percent. As soon as the pool filled up, 2 EP disappeared; Wensah wasn¡¯t forgetting to collect her due, was she? I poured 10 EP over to the Mana pool, gaining 5 MP. That was good. I waited for my Essence pool to fill up again, and I got the 3 MP I needed to max my Mana. Then I had a decision to make. A shiver ran down my imaginary spine as I recalled my own words. Ant-God? What was I thinking? I didn¡¯t even know at what point I started to think of the Blacks as ¡®us¡¯ and the Reds as ¡®them¡¯. Sure, Jack was a black ant, and I was riding him like a knight rode its horse into battle, but ¡­ that didn¡¯t mean anything. It shouldn¡¯t have meant anything. These were ants. It occurred to me that my connection with Jack might have been affecting me more than I realized, but I saw no evidence of this. Now that I¡¯d calmed down, I was alright. I no longer thought I was going insane. I had certainly got carried away in the heat of the moment, but that was all: heat of the moment in a highly unusual situation for a former human to be in. I had to make a decision here: I could stay here and eat more ant-souls, level perhaps, or I could just take Jack with me and get out of this crater of death to see what the world looked like. I didn¡¯t know how many more levels I could gain from staying here. I felt I needed a lot of EXP to get to Level 5. That grasshopper was pretty damn good, both in terms of taste and EXP, but there wasn¡¯t another one of those in sight. My best guess was at least fifty or more ant-souls to Level 5. That was a lot of work, but it made sense: ants were small. Their souls were small. Less EXP. Grasshoppers were bigger. Their souls were bigger. More EXP. That¡¯s how it worked, but ¡­ did it? If a soul was the same size as the body it belonged to, then how had Wensah even managed to cram my human sized soul into this tiny critter? That soul-surgery she mentioned? That must have been illegal. Obviously there was more to how spiritual size worked, but I had no clue, and I needed to focus on the present anyway. I made my decision: I¡¯d get to Level 5 here, then I¡¯d bail. *** With 8 MP in the pool, I could keep Mana-Armor going for at least five and a half minutes. That was plenty of time to skirt the edges of the battle and scavenge for souls. And if I was careful enough not to get bogged down in unnecessary fights, it would be easy to retreat to the rear to refill my Mana pool in peace. That was the plan. And it worked. Jack followed my instructions well, carrying me around the unending fighting. In the first five minutes I ate five souls and I wasn¡¯t picky: Red or Black, I ate any. Every once in a while Reds attacked us, and I let Jack take care of it. Then we retreated to the rear, I refilled my Mana pool, and we headed back to stalk the fighters and collect their souls as they fell. Seven trips and a total of fifty-five souls later, I was ready to level up. But before that, I wanted to quantify the EXP. Having consumed numerous ants and two thirds of a grasshopper, I had a better basis for it now. I decided to keep it simple: one ant-soul was worth one EXP. Based on this, the grasshopper in its entirety was worth around thirty-five EXP. To get to Level 2 had taken seven EXP. Level 3 had taken sixteen. My estimate for Level 4 was around twenty-seven or maybe twenty-eight, consisting of the five ants and two-thirds of the grasshopper. The fifty-five ant-souls I¡¯d eaten to reach Level 5 made a lot of sense: it seemed with each new level the amount of EXP needed for the next was double of the previous. So if it took fifty-five EXP to reach Level 5, it would take a hundred-and-ten to make it to Level 6. I knew that all this was just in my head, but I had a good head for numbers, and I was happy to have something in there that made sense. Because in the outside world, everything that had happened, everything that was going on ... well, I didn¡¯t think I could make sense of it even if I tried. So here I was: Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 4 to Level 5. I wiggled my tentacles ¡ª three centimeters didn¡¯t sound like a lot, but it was enough for now, and I wanted to increase the size of my Essence and Mana pools this time. So I grew my main body. As expected, my Essence Pool grew from 12 to 14, and my Mana pool from 8 to 9. I couldn¡¯t complain: it was consistent. And as my body used up all the spirit-stuff, I got a feel for the amount I needed for my next level. My guess had been right: a hundred-and-ten EXP, give or take a few. I liked this kind of consistency. I had 14 EP, 9 MP, and four skills at my disposal: Mana-Glove, Mana-Armor, Critter Control and Mana-Blast. I felt I was ready. I took a last look at the crater. The ants showed no signs of stopping; it seemed that to them war was constant, unending and for some reason, necessary. Well, they were ants, doing what nature intended for them to do. And I had enough of it already. ¡®Alright, Jack, let¡¯s get out of here!¡¯ Chapter Eight Chapter Eight Jack climbed up the slanted, uneven wall of the crater with the ease I''d expected from an ant. He didn¡¯t seem especially sad to leave the slaughter behind. Then again, he was an ant ¡ª he probably thought we were going to do some other kind of work for his colony. Then again, he was an ant, and he probably didn¡¯t think at all. Work. That was all I got from him, and it was stupid of me to even speculate on what he meant this time, if anything at all. ¡®Just consider this a trip to explore some new locations for your colony to¡­ colonize,¡¯ I told him. Work. ¡®Yeah. Work.¡¯ Jack wasn¡¯t a great conversationalist, but he made up for it by being an excellent mount. We reached the edge of the crater and we didn¡¯t look back. I didn¡¯t because I didn¡¯t want to, and Jack didn¡¯t because I didn¡¯t let him. Instead, we, I gawked at the sight in front of us. The dreary, dusty, deadly battlefield was no more. Here a green jungle awaited us, a thick, dense forest of tall grass, weeds and flowers of all colors, swaying and rustling in the breeze. The sky was bright and blue, the clouds small and white, sunshine bombarding us from above. It was spring or summer out here, and life was abundant. Bugs coming and going, some flying above the field. I even saw some black ants navigating between blades of grass, ignorant of the battle raging in the crater. I felt like I¡¯d been dropped onto the set of that old movie where the guy shrunk his kids with his home-made shrink-ray. All thoughts of soul-eating, of levels, of war, just vanished from my mind for a moment ¡ª I simply marveled at the sight all around me. This was a field, no doubt about that, and as such it wasn¡¯t anything remarkable. But from where I stood, it was something grand, something beautiful, something epic. I wasn¡¯t keen to disrupt the relative peace of the field, but I knew that if I wanted my new life to amount to more than hanging around bugs, or just being immobile while Wensah was enjoying the Essence she was siphoning from me, I had to take leveling seriously. I had to grow. I had to grow and I had to explore both myself and this new world I¡¯d been thrust into. I didn¡¯t have a clue what was out here ¡ª there might be creatures that could harm or kill me. The only solution I could think of was growing. Leveling. ¡®So, buddy, this is the plan,¡¯ I said to Jack. ¡®I make it to Level 10, then you can go back to work. Alright?¡¯ Work. ¡®Good. Let¡¯s get started!¡¯ *** There was no shortage of prey. With Mana-Armor on, I didn¡¯t have to worry about Jack, so I went for the large ones. The first one was a centipede looking creature with horns of course, as bugs seemed to have horns here. It was even bigger than the grasshopper. Jack attacked it on my command, relishing the opportunity to work. The centipede pushed him back, but couldn¡¯t hurt him. I didn¡¯t wait for Jack to conclude his duel with the beast at least twenty times his size. I stuck my tentacles into the centipede and sucked the soul out of the still living bug in less than ten seconds. I was impressed: it gave me roughly seventy EXP, which left about forty to be collected. The next was a large critter that looked like a ladybug, but green with purple spots, and to nobody¡¯s surprise, horns. It gave me ten EXP. Those green and purple ladybugs were in abundance, lounging on grass, leaves and flowers. Jack was adept at climbing up on those, and the bugs didn¡¯t offer much resistance. It took two more of them to reach the required hundred-and-ten EXP, and I was ready to grow to Level 6. *** We ventured further and further away from the crater, and the increase in the EXP I needed to reach each new level made me focus on the largest insects I could find. I ate at least five centipedes, a dozen ladybugs and two spiders that could compete with Earth¡¯s tarantulas in size and scariness. They brought me up to Level 9 by the time the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Level 10 came after the stars appeared in the darkening sky ... and after eating three more centipedes and a worm. I wasn¡¯t keen on the worm. I¡¯d got used to insects, and the hairy, slimy critter wasn¡¯t the least bit appealing as a meal. But compared to the bugs, it was huge. It took me almost a minute to eat its soul. It tasted weird, something like carrot soup, but it gave me at least seven-hundred EXP, pushing me over the threshold to reach Level 10. And with that, I reached my goal for the day and I took a good look at myself. Of the five growth spurts I¡¯d gone through since Level 5, I had grown my tentacles twice and my body three times. The spherical center of my spiritual body was now almost two centimeters in diameter, eighteen, maybe nineteen millimeters. My five tentacles were an impressive ten centimeters long by my best estimate, giving me considerable reach. My Essence Pool had a maximum capacity of 20, and my Mana Pool stood at a maximum of 12. I liked Level 10. I felt like I had a chance out in the world. If nothing else, I¡¯d certainly outgrown riding on Jack, who was only about a centimeter long. Jack wasn¡¯t complaining, and I didn¡¯t think my presence hindered him in any way, but it was time to let him go just as I¡¯d promised him. But before that, there was one more walk I needed him to take with me. *** During my leveling spree it wasn¡¯t only insects I¡¯d seen. I¡¯d found small rodents, like mice ¡ª furry little critters, with a greenish-brown coat and a face that resembled a bat rather than a mouse. And of course tiny horns. I¡¯d seen one or two here and there during the day, but the moment the sun had set, they came out in force from hidden holes in the ground. They foraged the field for whatever it was they ate; seeds from flowering weeds, small bugs like ants and the such. I¡¯d avoided them until now, because I wasn¡¯t sure if Mana-Armor would be enough to protect Jack against the teeth of these mice-like creatures. But now it was time to catch and tame one of them. I¡¯d outgrown bugs and this was the next step. The large spiders had been tempting, but they were just too creepy, so I decided to move on to mammals. Well, I assumed they were mammals. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I didn¡¯t have a problem seeing in the dark, and by the look of it, neither did Jack. Plenty of the weird, furry critters were out and about, and it didn¡¯t take long to find one. Occasionally I heard shrieks and the flapping of wings from above ¡ª some birds hunting the mice. The field was a dangerous place if you didn¡¯t have a friendly Tentacle Horror to watch your back and to shield you from predators, wasn¡¯t it? Jack approached one of the critters from behind. The mouse stood still, probably waiting for a chance to move without being spotted by the aerial menace the birds were. I stopped Jack about a centimeter from the animal. I checked my Essence pool: it was almost full at 17, and I had 8 MP as well. I was ready. I willed 3 EP to gather at the tip of one of my tentacles ¡ª I felt like it should be enough ¡ª and I reached for the mouse. ¡®This is it Jack!¡¯ Work. I was sure Jack was eager to get back to his colony and live out his life, working for the greater good. I didn¡¯t know what the lifespan of an ant was. A month? Two months? Half a year? I didn¡¯t even know how old Jack was. Well, I wished him the best of luck nonetheless and I touched the soul of the mouse. My tentacle pierced the soul as if going through air, and I expelled the Essence, injecting it into the spiritual mass of the critter. The Essence instantly began forming the microscopic wiring, spreading to every part of the critter¡¯s soul. The mouse shuddered, then stayed still. At the same time, I willed the wires to withdraw from Jack as I slowly pulled my tentacle out of his soul. It was time for Jack to regain his freedom, to rejoin his colony and be the worker he was always meant to be. That didn¡¯t happen. My Critter Control skill began to assert itself through the forming connection with the mouse, and I began to feel the ongoings in its soul. But my other tentacle did not leave Jack. Despite my will, despite my clear desire to set him free from my own clutches, the Essence-wires stayed, keeping my tentacle lodged into his tiny ant-soul, and as I pulled it, it brought his soul with it, yanking it out of his body. Jack flailed his antennas wildly, and I stopped the movement of the tentacle as soon as this registered in my mind. It was too late. ¡®No! Jack! What have I done?¡¯ I cried out in a panic. Jack stilled, then slumped to the ground, and on the tip of my tentacle hung his soul. ¡®No no no no no!¡¯ I screamed. Jack¡¯s soul was losing its form already, my tentacle liquifying it, starting to suck it up. I flailed the tentacle around, willing it to let go of the soul, but there was no stopping the process. The mouse shuddered as the connection was complete, and my pain and rage spilled over to it. Jack¡¯s soul disappeared from the world, entering the horrible, mysterious dimension the inside of my body was, becoming nothing more then cursed EXP, fuel for the growth of the monster I was. But no! I wasn¡¯t going to let this happen. Jack¡¯s soul would not become food! I wasn¡¯t thinking straight and I had no idea what I was doing. Even my Tentacle Horror instinct was telling me it was just guesswork. I didn¡¯t care. I willed my Essence pool to pour half of its contents out and I willed whatever spiritual muscles I had in that tentacle to gather the Essence and use it to isolate Jack¡¯s spirit-stuff. I knew he was gone. I ¡­ I killed him. And I didn¡¯t want to accept that. That stuff was Jack, and I wasn¡¯t going to eat it. My tentacle pushed and shaped the Essence, making it surround the spirit-stuff Jack had become. I could feel it as it was happening. I could feel Jack¡¯s soul being isolated from the rest of me by Essence, and that he didn¡¯t count towards the EXP, didn¡¯t count as food yet. But this wasn¡¯t going to be enough. My Tentacle Horror instinct was whispering, telling me my body wouldn¡¯t be able to keep neither the Essence nor the spirit stuff for long. I¡¯d need to either expel or absorb. I didn¡¯t want to do either. This was Jack, this was what was left of his soul. What could I do? What else was there to do? The only thing I had, the only thing I hadn¡¯t used yet, was Mana. I didn¡¯t know what would happen, but I called on my Mana pool. It was worth a try ¡ª I wasn¡¯t going to lose Jack like this, not without trying everything I could. I emptied my Mana pool. All 8 MP flowed out and into the tentacle. I willed the Mana to flow around Jack¡¯s soul and the swirling Essence isolating it. I hoped that Mana and Essence together would keep my body from absorbing the small mass of spirit-stuff, and at the same time I wouldn¡¯t be forced to just eject it and let it disappear into the air. I had no idea if it was possible. And I had no idea what I should do next. I had no idea if I was doing this for Jack or for myself. Maybe both. I knew this was nothing but grasping at straws and I couldn¡¯t bring Jack back. I also realised there was no justification for me to be so angry and so worked up because of an ant. Jack was an ant, for God¡¯s sake. Then maybe it wasn¡¯t because of Jack. Maybe I was so angry and frustrated because of what he represented, of what he was proof of: my new reality, the nature of my new existence, the loss of my old life and my old world. Whatever it was, I couldn¡¯t let him go. I didn¡¯t want to. I willed all my Mana to join the Essence to form a barrier together around Jack¡¯s spirit-stuff. Essence resisted. Mana obeyed. Then the two came together, mixing and becoming something else. This something else then enveloped the former ant-soul. I gawked at the swirling mess, feeling it and sensing it as it changed. Then the Essence-Mana mixture bled into the spirit-stuff and the spirit-stuff merged with Essence and Mana. The three substances came together and became a different spiritual matter, something that was new but familiar. Its unseen, formless mass roiled. It was still in my tentacle, but at the same time it wasn¡¯t ¡ª it was in that horrible dimension my body contained. I focused on the mass and I recognized what it was. It felt frighteningly similar to the sensation I got from both the Essence and the Mana pools themselves. This new ¡­ mass, this new substance ¡­ it was like a pool. Similar but different from the other two. Instinct took over. It guided me as I shaped the new pool. It became a container, a small room, its walls made of the fusion of Essence, Mana, and Spirit-Stuff. It vanished from my tentacle, but it was still there, a part of my body, residing in that same place where my other pools did. The entire event took less then half a minute, and was starting to hear the thoughts of the mouse through the new connection. Food! Eat! The mouse moved and I moved with it. Oh no. I didn¡¯t want to leave Jack¡¯s body behind. I reached out with an immaterial tentacle ¡ª it reached Jack, going right through his dead body. I had no Mana left ¡ª I¡¯d used it all to create that strange, new room. The mouse moved, and I didn¡¯t have time to convert EP to MP, so I willed my body to get some Essence to the tentacle, hoping that once, just this once, it would do the job Mana was supposed to do, and let me grab the ant''s body. I didn¡¯t know why I wanted to drag Jack¡¯s body with me, or what I wanted to do with it. Perhaps I was more sentimental than I¡¯d thought. Perhaps I wanted to bury it and mark a grave for him. Perhaps I just didn¡¯t want to give up. I wasn¡¯t sure, but I was hoping against hope it would work. Essence burst out into the physical world. I could sense it dousing Jack¡¯s body like water from a hosepipe. And just as the mouse dragged me away, and my tentacle was about to leave Jack behind ¡­ it vanished. Jack¡¯s body disappeared into thin air. What! Happened? Then I felt it. A jolt running through my body, as if I¡¯d just licked a battery. Actually, it felt more like a weird hiccup. And the next thing I felt was the new room: it wasn¡¯t empty any more. Jack¡¯s body, Jack¡¯s physical body was inside it, enveloped in a thin coat of Essence, resting in a corner. I couldn¡¯t believe it. I had taken Jack¡¯s tangible, material body into my spiritual body, into a room I¡¯d unwittingly built from his soul. The mouse began to run. I didn¡¯t care. I just peered at this new room, Jack¡¯s Room, and at the tiny ant body resting inside. Chapter Nine Chapter Nine The mouse went about its own business, scurrying from cover to cover, eating whatever edible things it found, dragging me along. I didn¡¯t pay any mind to it. My attention was on Jack¡¯s Room. I observed the room, and Jack¡¯s body in it, but not in a way I could call visual on any level. I felt it. I knew it. I knew it like I knew how much Essence or Mana was in the pools. I¡¯d killed Jack. The poor thing. He was the first and the closest to what I could almost call a companion in this world. Granted, he was an ant¡­ but five days! Hell. I¡¯d been here five days and just when I thought things were getting better, I killed the one creature I didn¡¯t want to kill. What was Wensah thinking? Putting my soul into this monster of a spirit? Was this how things were going to be? Killing everything I touched? Just what the hell was Wensah thinking? ¡®I¡¯m so sorry, little buddy,¡¯ I murmured, my voice the same as before, distant, hollow, ghostly. If someone had told me a week ago I¡¯d be a tentacle spirit, grieving over an ant no less, I would have laughed. Now, I was on the verge of shedding invisible tears. And it wasn¡¯t just Jack. This whole situation finally sunk in, and I was grieving and mourning my old life. I was grieving and mourning all the souls I¡¯d eaten, and all the souls I was inevitably going to eat. My new life sucked. I had to calm down. Being sad and angry didn¡¯t help. Not me, not Jack. Nothing could help Jack now. But even in his death he helped me. He had helped me learn more about my new self and he''d helped me build a room, a room in which I could store physical, material objects. Because that¡¯s exactly what Jack¡¯s Room did. Thank you, Jack,¡¯ I said. ¡®You¡¯re the best ant that ever was. And I won¡¯t forget you.¡¯ *** I let the bat-faced mouse do whatever it wanted to do, which mostly revolved around food and the occasional stray thought of reproduction whenever another mouse ¡ª presumably of the opposite sex ¡ª came into proximity. At the moment, I didn¡¯t care for the mouse and its needs and I didn¡¯t care for the night-time scenery of the field either. I focused on Jack¡¯s Room. My Tentacle Horror instinct was more than adept at guiding me to do things. It made Jack¡¯s Room possible. It was almost as if I was a kindergartener, learning to draw letters and numbers, and the teacher was holding my hand to help me guide my pencil on the paper. Unfortunately, this particular teacher was also rather skimpy on the details and explanations as to what I was doing and how. So I looked, I felt and I studied Jack¡¯s Room, hoping to crack the mystery of its construction. The first thing I noted was something I knew already: as it was the case with my Essence and Mana pools, Jack¡¯s Room was not actually inside my body, or at least not in the body I could see. It was somewhere else, and the only thing I could think of was the good old sci-fi trope of other dimensions. Maybe it was some sort of spirit world? Who knew? Whether it was the case or not, I went with this theory. And building on it I concluded that the core of my being, including my human soul, was probably at the same place or dimension as my pools and everything else. I figured that my blue and ghostly body was probably a representation or an extension of the creature I was, here in the physical world. But I had no awareness, no perception of my hypothesized spirit-dimension. I could have been wrong, but what other explanation was there? The second thing I noted was that Essence, Mana and Spirit-Stuff seemed to be the building blocks of spiritual life and function. I couldn¡¯t see, feel or detect anything else. They were the protons, neutrons and electrons of the spiritual world, or at least that¡¯s what it seemed like to me. And as such, mixed in different ways and different quantities, they made different atoms, molecules and spiritual materials. I had to admit the analogy was somewhat inaccurate and perhaps stupid. But as I concentrated my perception on Jack¡¯s Room and my pools, I began to discern that all of them were built or formed with the mixture of the three. I couldn¡¯t determine ratios and compositions, not yet, but that could wait. The third thing I noted was that while the three substances acted like building blocks ¡ª because they were building blocks ¡ª they were also more. Much more. This was where I thought the proton-neutron-electron analogy was simply not enough to cover it. The three spiritual substances were more than just building blocks, having functions and capabilities on their own. Souls were made of different variants or grades of Spirit-stuff, forming complex spiritual organisms, like souls. Or myself. Mana was a greatly responsive substance that interacted with everything. And there was Essence. Essence was glue, it was communication cables, it was brick and mortar. Essence somehow pulled the body of an ant into a spiritual dimension, and I was sure it was Essence that maintained a connection between my apparent body here and my soul and my pools over there. No wonder Wensah wanted this stuff. I had a feeling it could be almost anything you wanted it to be, either on its own, or mixed with the other two substances. Provided you knew what you wanted and had enough spiritual muscles to work with it. I even suspected that the thread Wensah was using to siphon Essence was actually made of Essence. And Essence seemed to be everywhere ¡ª I was collecting it from the air, for God¡¯s sake. Essence was all important. Probably. Now I just needed to figure out how I could use the three substances, what I could build, what I could do with them. It was easier said than done. *** I¡¯d spent quite some time thinking about these spiritual affairs. The moon was making its way through the incredibly beautiful, starry night sky, and I could see a faint glow over the horizon in the direction that must have been east. The sun was going to rise again, maybe in an hour or so. I turned my attention to my latest mount: the mouse. It¡¯s soul was different from those of insects ¡ª unlike the ghostly white outlines of an ant-soul, it had a yellow tinge to it, not quite golden, but not plain yellow either. And I could tell it was more detailed, more complex, not only by the feel of it, but also by the amount of the tiny Essence wires needed to create a net that covered it in its entirety. For Jack it had taken less than a single EP and a hundred or so wires to do this. For the mouse, it took 3 full EP¡¯s worth of wires. The mouse was so much larger than an ant, and I wondered how much EXP I¡¯d get from its soul. I had a feeling the amount didn¡¯t just depend on the size and mass of the soul, but also on the complexity of its build as well. This poor mouse was doomed. Whether it was going to die of old age or by me finding a more desirable host for my immobile body, its soul was going to be a meal for me. How sad. But before I could even begin to get used to my new host, or I could get my bearings, the mouse¡¯s doom manifested itself. However, it didn¡¯t take the shape I¡¯d imagined. *** A dark shadow descended on us from the sky, blotting out the stars. Talons penetrated the body of the small creature. Its almost imperceptible squeak was drowned out by the sound of flapping wings, and the next thing I knew, we were in the air. The bird was reminiscent of owls. It was fluffy, it looked like the embodiment of wisdom and mystery, and it was a predator. Oh, and it had two tiny horns. Why did everything have horns here? The mouse was dying. So I did what anyone would have done in my situation: I plunged one of my tentacles into the owl¡¯s soul, expelling 5 EP¡¯s worth of Essence into it. Then I ate the soul of the mouse. It tasted wonderful: a memory of chicken with peanut sauce popped into my mind. Its body stopped moving and squeaking, and I calculated the EXP. I was more than just surprised to feel that it gave me more than half of what I needed for my next level: about nineteen-hundred. The mouse wasn¡¯t bigger than the creepy spiders I¡¯d seen, but it was clearly levels above them in terms of the spiritual sustenance it provided. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Feed! Young! The thoughts of the owl were clear. It wasn¡¯t going to eat the mouse, it was for its owlets. Well, I was just happy I managed to avoid becoming immobile again. *** I was impressed with my new host; flying was quite an experience, even if I couldn¡¯t feel the air, the wind, or the fact that we were moving. It was a purely audio-visual experience. I imagined it would have been like a roller-coaster ride, or being in one those simulators at the RAF museum, if I could feel things like acceleration and the likes. Oh well, it was what it was. We flew over the field, then over a forest, then into the forest. We landed on the branch of a tree that had a hollow, and in it, in a nest of dried grass and small twigs, two hungry looking owlets screamed for their dinner. Or breakfast. My host, presumably the mother, presented them with the meal, and the two small birds tore it apart and swallowed the parts as happily as a school kid munching on cheese strings. The forest, the trees ¡­ they looked familiar. I wasn¡¯t an expert on trees ¡ª if anyone asked me to name what trees were in a forest, I could only name oak, beech, maple, and pine. And if anyone asked me how to tell them apart, the only thing I could say was that if it didn¡¯t resemble a Christmas-tree, then it wasn¡¯t pine. Still, the place didn¡¯t look much different from what I remembered from the few countryside hikes I had reluctantly participated in. I couldn¡¯t feel temperature, but the impression I got just by looking was a pleasant coolness. This was what they called a temperate forest, if I remembered correctly. I called on my limited knowledge of what kind of animals lived in a forest like this. I was comfortable using Earth examples and analogies. So far ¡ª horns aside ¡ª this world was more similar than different to home. Mommy owl flapped her wings a few times and got into the hollow to join her offspring. They rustled and bustled, then they all settled down to sleep. The owlets laid down, and their mother simply perched in the middle of the nest and closed her eyes. *** Morning came, then an uneventful day. Bugs were abundant, so were the ugly, squirrel-type creatures that jumped from tree to tree without a care for sleeping birds of prey. I could only hear the critters that inhabited the ground and the shrubs. Judging by the sounds, they ranged from small snakes to frogs to mice and larger rodents perhaps. I didn¡¯t mind spending the day observing the small part of the forest I could see from the hollow; I almost felt like I was the cameraman for a nature show on Discovery Channel, with the one difference being that I couldn¡¯t move. It was impossible to see the sun through the foliage, but as the forest gradually darkened, and mommy owl opened her eyes, I knew evening was coming again. The shrieks of the owlets were a sure sign of their hunger. Mommy owl stirred, stretched, and exited the nest to perch on the nearest branch. She was in for another night of hunting and feeding her young. But there was something I wanted to do before night fell. I pulled on the Essence-wires that connected me to the bird and I explored that connection. Hungry. Search! Eat! This much I¡¯d expected from her. She¡¯d hunt, she¡¯d eat, then she¡¯d order a rodent take-out for her kids. But she¡¯d have to wait before she could get to it. I was sure the owlets would forgive her for bringing their dinner a bit later than usual. I pressed my own will through the wires, into her soul. She stirred, looked left and right, up and down, probably wondering where the sudden influx of extra thoughts in her mind had come from. Other than that, she didn¡¯t move. I tried again and tried to be as clear in my instructions as I could manage it. ''Fly up!¡¯ I said it out loud. The instruction reached her with the speed of a thought. She flapped her wings, and we were in the air. She flew past a few trees, then through a gap in the foliage, rising up above the forest. It was still daylight: the sun was going down behind some sort of rocky mountain in the distance, and a few stars were already peeking down on the world. ¡®Higher!¡¯ I said. Search! Eat! The owl complained, but she obeyed, flapping her wings as we flew higher. I could feel she wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with this. I didn¡¯t know much about owls; they were birds, and I assumed they had no problem flying. Well, this was an alien owl by all accounts, but I felt she was struggling. Regardless, I pushed her until I saw enough. To the west ¡ª as I designated the direction in which the sun was setting ¡ª I could only see the mountain. I wondered what lay beyond it. To the east the forest stretched endlessly, rising and falling along small hills and valleys. A few streams flew into a narrow river, cutting through the valleys, and the river flew into ¡­ the sea. Or ocean. There was a shoreline to the east, quite a distance from us. Huh. I wasn¡¯t sure which was north or south here, but in one direction ¡ª south, maybe ¡ª I saw more forests, and another beach several kilometers away. The north was pretty much the same: forests and then the sea. The owl kept complaining about this expedition of mine. I¡¯d seen enough for today and I let her glide downward and let her get on with her business. *** Apart from a little exploration every evening, I let the owl do what she wanted to do: hunt for herself and her owlets. We couldn¡¯t go too far, three, maybe four kilometers at most by my best estimate. Still, it was enough for a suspicion to take root in my mind. This might be an island. To the north, the south and the east the land terminated in unappealing rocky beaches and cliffs, and beyond them nothing but water. Just the endless ocean. The only unexplored area was the mountain to the west, and whatever lay behind it. I wanted to fly over or around the mountain, to either confirm or disprove my suspicion. But it wasn¡¯t a priority, and I just didn¡¯t have it in me to make the owl abandon her young to go for such a long trip. So I waited, I let it hunt, and in two weeks time I gained two levels by eating all the souls of the critters she picked up. At Level 12 my body was almost two and a half centimeters in diameter, and each of my tentacles were around twelve centimeters long. My Essence and Mana pools grew to 24 and 14 respectively, which wasn¡¯t bad. Jack¡¯s Room did not grow. I spent some time trying to figure out how to make it larger, but it wasn¡¯t a priority. It wasn¡¯t like I had anywhere important to be, and since it looked like I had nothing but time on my tentacles, nothing was a priority. *** At the end of the third week, the owlets became full fledged owls: they could fly, they could hunt, and they definitely didn¡¯t need to be fed any more. It was time for a trip. Gladys wasn¡¯t thrilled, but she obeyed me. Yes, I named the owl Gladys ¡ª there was just something about her that screamed Gladys. I knew it was a mistake, and I knew I¡¯d be devastated if I killed her, too. That¡¯s why I¡¯d sworn an oath to myself that I¡¯d stick with her until she died of old age. It wasn¡¯t conducive to my leveling; she didn¡¯t hunt anything larger than mice, small gecko type lizards, and the occasional smaller squirrel creatures. Still, I made it to Level 13 and realistically I could expect to reach Level 15 or 16 in another three or four weeks. After that the EXP requirement would become too high to grow as fast as I¡¯d been so far, unless I went after larger animals. One of the wolves I¡¯d seen would have been an ideal partner; they hunted horned boars, strange looking unicorn-goat-deer creatures, and anything in between. But that was for another day. For now, I wanted to see the land behind the mountain; it was time to make my own journey to the west. *** Gladys reached the mountain in a night, stopping to hunt for a snack here and there. We found a hole in some rocks and spent the day there. In the late afternoon we set out to fly over to the other side. It was difficult to guess or make estimates as to how tall the mountain was. It wasn¡¯t very tall, in fact I wasn¡¯t even sure if it qualified as a mountain. It was an almost completely barren, rocky formation. From up close, it was really just a few large, rocky hills pretending to be a mountain range, and I didn¡¯t think it would pose a problem for Gladys to fly over them. And it didn¡¯t. What posed a problem was what lay on the other side. There were forests here, too, some smaller hills, and another river snaking along the valleys. And in the distance, maybe five or six kilometers away, I saw the sparkling, glittering blues and whites of the ocean. Damn. Not the kind of enlightenment I wanted from my journey to the west. I was on an island. I really was on an island. Granted, it was a large island; if my estimates were anywhere close to reality, the island was at least fifteen, maybe even twenty kilometers across from east to west, and almost the same from north to south. And it was an island with no signs of civilization or people. I hated that I¡¯d been right in my suspicion. I didn¡¯t have to wonder any more about what Wensah was thinking. Now I knew exactly what she was thinking: get an extremely dangerous Spiritual Tentacle Horror, stick a human soul in it to curb its murderous instincts, and she could safely enjoy all the processed Essence it could provide. And if instinct took over somehow, no problem, he was on an uninhabited island, so it was all good. Clever and devious that Wensah. What was I supposed to do? Was there anything I could even do? I wasn¡¯t sure and I took a deep mental breath as I watched the sun setting over the ocean. My mind came up blank: I had no idea what to do, except look forward to a spiritual lifetime of solitude. It wasn¡¯t the greatest or most welcome prospect, but I decided to keep a stiff upper lip, get on with it, and grow. Chapter Ten Chapter Ten Summer passed. The flowers disappeared from the fields, the forest changed colour and began to slowly undress. Then winter came. It didn''t snow once, but rain was almost constant, storms were coming and going, and I felt reluctance from Gladys whenever she went hunting. The days were short, nights were long, but Gladys more or less kept to the same schedule as always. Without a clock it was difficult to say how long a day was here, and I wasn¡¯t so patient or determined as to count the minutes just to find out. It was easier to count days. Sixty-five days after my arrival I declared that autumn had arrived, and another hundred or so days later I could safely say it was winter. It seemed seasons here were a little longer than back home, but oher than that everything was as normal as it could get. Mostly I left Gladys to her own devices. She didn¡¯t need my help: she was as high on the food-chain as a bird could get. She hunted, and nothing hunted her. Some larger snakes tried for her every once in a while, but that was it. I was sure as long as she was able to fly she was safe. I spent most of my time eating the souls of the animals she hunted and I reached Level 15 before winter ended. At Level 15 my body was the size of a tennis ball, my tentacles were about 25 centimeters long, and on top of that, I grew a sixth one. I wasn¡¯t sure how that happened, but once I completed my latest growth spurt, it included a brand new tentacle. I got used to having six of the little buggers in no time. The problem was that I needed over eighty-thousand EXP to reach Level 16. With a mouse giving anywhere between one thousand and seventeen-hundred depending on size, it would take some time to get to the next level. Gladys usually ate two, sometimes three mice a day, or one or two squirrels. But I wasn¡¯t in a rush. Gladys was on top of things and I was invisible. The denizens of this island didn¡¯t even know I was here. I had no natural predators, I didn''t really have any goals to work toward, so I wasn''t in any rush. I did however conduct some experiments with the Holy Trinity of spiritual existence: Essence, Mana, Spirit-Stuff. For obvious, sentimental reasons the first thing I wanted to figure out was Jack¡¯s Room. It wasn¡¯t an original part of me; it was more like an add-on, and it had to be upgraded separately. By mid-winter, I figured out how. I pictured Jack¡¯s Room as a ¡­ well, room, hence the name. It was an enclosed space ¡ª it had a floor, a ceiling and walls, metaphorically speaking. After a few close looks, I concluded that the room was made of Essence, Mana and Spirit-Stuff in a five-one-four ratio. Roughly. Then, after weeks and months of experimenting, I figured out how to expand this spiritual storage room. As I consumed souls I was able to withhold some of the Spirit-Stuff from becoming EXP. I could do this by using my spiritual muscles to knead Essence and Spirit-Stuff together into a dough. Then I¡¯d add an amount of Mana equal to the dough¡¯s mass. When I ordered the dough to go to Jack¡¯s Room, Mana conveyed my wishes, Essence opened the way to enter the spiritual dimension in which Jack¡¯s Room was located, taking the dough there. After that Essence and Spirit-Stuff acted as the brick and mortar, expanding the room. Most of the Mana and a little of the Spirit Stuff disappeared in the process, but the room would grow, its walls standing strong, made of five part Essence, one part Mana and four part Spirit-Stuff. I was excited to test Jack''s Room as soon as I succeeded with the expansion. I was much less excited when the only thing in tentacle range was a regurgitated fur and bone pellet that Gladys had expelled after her dinner. I did it anyway, coating it with Essence. Then lo and behold, it vanished, and I knew it was in Jack¡¯s room. I got rid of that pellet in short order, and got to work on a second expansion of the room. *** Winter ended and spring came. The forest was starting to show little patches of green again. Sunshine once again became a more frequent and longer lasting affair. By the time the first flowers on the fields appeared, I had expanded Jack¡¯s Room four more times. This of course slowed my progress towards the next level, but I didn¡¯t care. After the fifth expansion of Jack¡¯s Room, I could store a surprising amount of physical matter in it. Putting the carcasses of mice, squirrels and snakes into it ¡ª much to the annoyance of Gladys ¡ª I gauged its capacity to be about two hundred mice. I decided to call the new unit of measurement ¡°space¡±. One hundred mice¡¯ worth of capacity was one space. Therefore I had two spaces in Jack¡¯s Room. On one occasion I tried to put a live mouse in the room. Gladys was outright furious when I snatched the critter from her. As the body of the mouse landed in Jack¡¯s Room, its soul stayed outside. The poor thing died instantly, so I gave it back to Gladys. She didn¡¯t talk to me for a day. *** Between winter and spring I was busy. I constructed a second Essence pool. It was similar to Jack¡¯s Room as far as the construction process went. The only difference was its composition. I thought it would be useful to have a secondary Essence pool. Firstly, Wensah had no access to it, secondly, I could rely on it if I suddenly needed more Mana for something. I considered making a secondary Mana pool, too, but it wasn¡¯t something I was in immediate need of, so I put it off. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The other important discovery I made was about Mana. My Tentacle Horror instinct kept telling me that there was a way to make my Mana available for Gladys to use. I had to be careful with this; the last thing I wanted was to hurt the owl. But after weeks and weeks of careful fiddling and deciphering my instinct¡¯s vague guidance, I figured it out. The Essence wires that connected me to Gladys were running in bundles, each bundle connecting to some sort of node within her soul. I sent a little Mana along the wires to see where it would go. Mana went along the wires, arriving at one of the nodes in her chest. Gladys did not like that process; it must have been painful. I did feel a little bad, but in the end it worked. From that point on she could draw on my Mana, and Mana would go to her and do her bidding. She tried it once, lost interest in it immediately, and she never tried it again. *** Summer was ending when Gladys died. It could have been old age, or it could have been an owl-disease, I didn¡¯t know. One evening she just didn¡¯t open her eyes, and her soul detached itself from her body. It saddened me. I¡¯d grown to like Gladys a lot, but her death didn¡¯t have the kind of profound impact on me as Jack¡¯s. Jack¡¯s death had been my fault. Gladys¡¯ death was nature running its course. It made me wonder whether spirits like me had a natural life-span, or we were immortal creatures. I didn¡¯t have an answer and I thought it best not to dwell on it. I consumed the old owl¡¯s soul, thanking her for putting up with me, and I took her body into Jack¡¯s Room, placing her in the same corner next to Jack. Here they wouldn¡¯t rot, they wouldn¡¯t decay. Here, they¡¯d stay as they were: a reminder that I couldn¡¯t have gotten where I was without them. *** I was alone and immobile in the tree-hollow where Gladys had left me. Alone and immobile was not a winning combination; after having the old owl for company for almost a year, I loathed being stuck by myself. Gladys had been a good listener once she got used to my voice in her head and learned to ignore it. For two days I was immersed in an unwelcome solitude, until one of the ugly squirrel creatures wandered into the tree-hollow. I didn¡¯t hesitate: I reached out for the animal and I quickly brought it under my control. It was a much simpler creature than an owl but a mount was a mount, and I had places to go. During my time with Gladys, growth hadn¡¯t been a priority, and in a time almost as long as a year I¡¯d only gained two levels. I was at least fifty-thousand EXP short of Level 16, so it was time to get to work. My destination was the forest on the western side of the Rockies, as I¡¯d named the pseudo-mountain range. It was a long and arduous journey for the squirrel, but Mana-Armor kept the critter safe, and I wasn¡¯t shy in fending off snakes and other predators with my Mana-Gloved tentacles. The squirrel got tired quickly, needed frequent rest and food, but we made it to the western forest in seven days. I was ready to begin the search for the wolf type creatures I¡¯d seen while flying over these parts with Gladys. *** It didn¡¯t take long to find one. The wolf stood among the trees, looking at us. Its jet black fur made the animal almost invisible in the meager sunlight barely breaking through the foliage. The wolf walked towards us, slowly, and its bright, red eyes sparkled whenever it crossed one of the small patches of light coming from above. On Earth wolves were large, but here they were about the size of a German Shepherd. And for some inexplicable reason they didn¡¯t have horns. Still, I was awed by the sight. With its body looking like it was made of living darkness, its eyes a violent red, almost glowing, the wolf looked like a demonic beast that came up from the depths of hell to spread death and destruction. If any creature should have had horns, it was the wolves. Nature was weird in this world. The squirrel wanted to run and climb up a tree. I apologized to it and I held it in place through Critter Control. I needed that wolf to get into tentacle reach. Unfortunately for the squirrel, it meant a final resting place in the belly of a small but scary wolf. I yanked the squirrel''s soul out of its body and ate it, just as the wolf bit down on the critter. At the same time I drove a tentacle into the wolf¡¯s soul, expelling 10 EP into it. The wolf froze for a second, then ate the squirrel, chomping down on it, swallowing it in one go. To something like a wolf, this was a light afternoon snack. To me, it was also a light afternoon snack. I needed more substantial meals, and as far as I could tell, the best caterers on this island were the wolves. And thus began my partnership with Akela. *** Yes, I named him Akela, because what else was I going to name a wolf? Akela was a lone wolf and he adapted to my presence quickly. For the first few days he was startled every time I spoke to him. After a week, he got used to it. After thirty days we were the best of friends. We wandered the whole island. I¡¯d seen a few packs of three or four wolves in the north and south. They seemed to have their own territories, which they vehemently protected from other wolves. Whenever Akela and I wandered into such places, we were met with the pack, growling at us, and we¡¯d leave. I didn¡¯t know why Akela was an outcast. He was by far the most intelligent creature I¡¯d met here, but he wasn¡¯t capable of explaining things in detail. Luckily there were no packs in the western parts of the island, so we returned to the forest there, and it became our hunting ground. Akela was a lazy bastard when he wasn¡¯t hungry. He¡¯d spend most of his time lounging in the sun. If it was raining, he¡¯d settle in the alcoves and hollows of large, rocky outcroppings, which were plentiful in the western forest. Other times he¡¯d just stroll around leisurely, sniffing things like trees, rocks, or anything really, like a curious puppy. But when he was hungry he quickly became an unrelenting, merciless hunter. He sniffed out his prey, he tracked it for hours or even days, and when he was ready and the time was right, he struck. When he missed, I helped him out with a well placed, Mana-Gloved tentacle here and there. By the time my second winter on this island of misery ended, I was a mere ten-thousand EXP away from Level 20. And it didn''t matter any more, it was just in my head. Instead, I realised it was time to just accept the fact that this was how the rest of my existence would be, and to stop waiting for something to happen. Chapter Eleven Chapter Eleven ¡®Easy now, easy!¡¯ I whispered to Akela. Hungry. Want to eat! Now. Akela directed his thoughts at me. ¡®He¡¯ll notice you. Again. Be more stealthy!¡¯ I scolded him. Fine. He huffed. He slowed down, moving more carefully between the trees while bombarding me with his thoughts of indignation and impatience. The unigoat wasn¡¯t far; it hadn¡¯t noticed us yet, and I hoped that wouldn¡¯t change. I might have spoiled Akela a tad more than it would have been healthy ¡ª he sometimes didn¡¯t care if the creature noticed him because he knew Mana-Armor would protect him from the sharp horn of his prey. This was my mistake, and I was determined to correct it. But it was difficult to get it through that thick skull of his that rushing carelessly at the lethal defenses of a unigoat wasn¡¯t the wisest thing to do. Not to mention, it wasn¡¯t the way of a proper hunter, with or without Mana-Armor. Stubborn wolf. Akela approached the unigoat as quietly as it was possible for him. He was careful with his steps, but he was no cat. I shrieked inwardly at every rustle of every dead leaf and twig he stepped on. It wasn¡¯t enough to alert his prey, thankfully. The unigoat was munching peacefully on some shrubs, some ten, maybe twelve meters away, unaware of its approaching doom. With only a few trees between us now, I saw it more or less clearly. Akela stopped, crouched down behind a bushy plant and stayed still. He eyed the creature through the leaves and branches. The wolf breathed slowly, his muscles tensing, ready to jump out and charge. Soon. ¡®Yeah! Soon.¡¯ I agreed. I didn¡¯t know if wolves back home understood concepts like time: now, later, soon and such. Akela did. He was by far the most intelligent and self-aware creature I¡¯d ever encountered, save for the members of my former race. He could plan, he could stick to his plans, or he could change his plans. And his plan ¡ª as almost always ¡ª was Mana. Strong teeth! He demanded. And I obliged, my decision of not spoiling him thrown out a window in an instant. I opened my Mana-pool for him, and he drew on it. Mana flowed along the Essence wires to the appropriate node in his soul, and he willed it to gather in his jaw and on his teeth. He could bite through steel with my help, of this I was sure, and if he managed to surprise the unigoat this time, it¡¯s neck would snap like a twig. ¡®Patience!¡¯ I told him. Fine. Relax. He agreed reluctantly. Unfortunately his patience depended on how hungry he was ¡ª when his stomach growled, he had to be reminded of what patience was and why it was useful. Even if my tenties all had fingers, it wouldn¡¯t have been enough to count how many times he missed a meal because he couldn¡¯t wait. The unigoat inched towards us, searching for more of the flowering, green berry plants its kind liked so much, oblivious to the pair of red eyes watching it. Now! Akela jumped up, shooting forward like a bullet from a gun, and if anyone knew how deadly those were, it was me. I made ready to activate Mana-Armor just in case. By the time the poor unigoat realised what was happening, trying to position its horn to impale the charging wolf, it was too late. Akela reached the unigoat in a matter of seconds. He slid the last half a meter, ducking under its head and horn, and bit into its neck from underneath. The unigoat let out a gurgling scream that was not at all goat-like, and then it didn¡¯t have a throat any more. Akela spat out the bloody chunk, bit again, dragging the animal to the ground. And that was it. The unigoat was dead. ¡®Well done!¡¯ I said as I stuck one of my tenties into the soul of the dead animal. Hmph! He huffed. That ¡°hmph¡± used to be ¡°I know. I¡¯m me.¡±. These days he just huffed whenever I complimented him, as if I was stating the obvious. I couldn¡¯t deny he had every right and reason to be a little prideful and arrogant about his achievements as a hunter ¡ª he sort of understood the concept of pride in his primal, animalistic way. But as any good friend would do, I tried to hammer some humility into him. It wasn¡¯t an easy task and I¡¯d given up on it several times. Akela went about the gruesome, bloody business of chomping and disemboweling, and I went about the much cleaner and faster business of consuming the unigoat¡¯s soul. I wished I could taste the meat. Unigoats had beautiful, red meat, more like beef than goat-meat. Oh, the steaks and stews and pies I could make. Sometimes I had no choice but to lament the unjust nature of spiritual existence. On the other hand, we made a rather good team, Akela and I. I could safely say the two of us together were the single, deadliest predator of the island, one that even the few wolf-packs avoided these days. *** Akela ate as much as he could, leaving three-quarters of the unigoat for me to store, and he was as happy as a well fed kindergartener waiting for his midday nap. I pulled the bloodied remains of the animal into Jack¡¯s Room. If there was one skill of mine Akela considered his favorite, this was it. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. For later! He reminded me that the unigoat was his. ¡®Yeah. Are you done? Can we go?'' I asked. He stood, stretching his legs a bit, and I thought we were ready to go back to camp, but he called out to me. Voice! I knew that tone of thought. I knew what was coming. But I asked anyway. ¡®What?¡¯ Belly rub! ¡®Wash first! You¡¯re covered in blood.¡¯ Hmph. ¡®No wash, no belly-rub,¡¯ I said. Fine. He relented. It didn¡¯t take us long to arrive at one of the brooks that criss-crossed through the forests, flowing into the river. Akela stuck his snout into the water first, then he slowly walked into the stream, immersing himself. I didn¡¯t think this was something wolves normally did, but I always made sure the reward was worth the trouble. Unigoat blood painted the water pink as it washed off the wolf. He climbed out of the water, shook himself almost dry, laid down on the narrow, grassy bank of the brook, demanding that I give him his reward there and then. I called Mana to thinly coat two of my tenties, and I gave him the best belly rub a wolf could want. He made some soft, growling noises I could charitably call puppy noises. Good! He complemented my efforts. ''Glad you like it you lazy mutt,'' I grumbled at him, but I kept rubbing and stroking him. And I watched the sky through the gap the stream cut into the forest canopy. Dark, grey clouds were gathering fast, obscuring the blue sky of an otherwise nice spring day. ¡®Another storm is coming, I think,¡¯ I said. Akela didn¡¯t acknowledge my musing, he simply enjoyed the wonders of a good belly rub. ¡®We should go back to camp before it starts raining.¡¯ Camp? Fine. *** The island didn¡¯t have to bear the brunt of the storm, or at least I didn¡¯t think so. It rained constantly for the next couple of days, and a number of trees around our camp took up the flying lessons the winds were offering. I¡¯d seen worse over the last two years. We didn¡¯t do much during the storm. We had a nice little alcove, almost a cave, in the midst of some rocky outcroppings in the middle of the forest, perhaps halfway between the foot of the Rockies and the beach. Akela enjoyed being lazy, eating the rest of the unigoat whenever I brought it out of Jack¡¯s Room. The unigoat gave me a whooping eleven-thousand EXP, and I reached the threshold for the next level. At Level 21 I managed to grow my six tentacles to almost a meter long: a proper arm¡¯s length. My body was now slightly larger than a tennis ball, maybe eleven to twelve centimeters in diameter. My primary Essence Pool had a capacity of 53, the secondary Essence Pool 24. My Mana Pool had a max capacity of 29, and Jack¡¯s Room had 13 spaces. This wasn¡¯t bad, more than enough to protect and help Akela for prolonged periods of time, although it was rarely necessary. Wensah kept taking her share of Essence as always, three or four EP at a time, I needed over six-hundred-thousand EXP for Level 22. It was a large and intimidating number. It would take some time, but based on my experiences of the past two years, time I had in abundance. Time was the only thing I had. *** After two days the storm passed. My little hunting buddy was sleeping, probably dreaming of tasty meat, and I was peering at the outside through the entrance of the alcove. With some of the trees gone, I even saw a couple of stars in the small stretch of the sky I could observe from the inside. The hooting of some owls filled me with nostalgia, and the rustling of the undergrowth made me wonder what kind of hunters and what kind of prey performed tonight¡¯s dances of life and death. Life was simple. Peaceful. As peaceful as the life of a predator could be. I had gotten used to it; humans were nothing if not adaptable. But it was also ¡­ boring. Having nothing but time on my tentacles I was thinking a lot. Mostly in endless loops about inconsequential thing. The big questions I¡¯d been asking had lost meaning a long time ago. Why was this happening to me? Was there a meaning or purpose to it, to my life? What or who was I? I was invisible, intangible, had tentacles and an appetite for souls, but I had a soul of my own, and it was a human soul. Therefore I was human, no matter what I looked like. I¡¯d heard people say ¡°know yourself¡± or ¡°discover who you are¡±. At least back home, the two biggest providers of ready-made answers were there to help you: religion and the internet. But not this place. Here, I was alone, I had no-one to ask, no-one to discuss it with. And given that the most intelligent creatures of the island considered their next meals and belly rubs to be the big questions of life, all my internal rumblings were moot. They didn¡¯t matter. For all practical purposes, what mattered to me was Akela. He didn¡¯t have anything as bothersome going on in his head as I did, and I really liked that about him. As it had been the case with Jack, with Gladys, I didn¡¯t know how old Akela was, or for how long he¡¯d live. But I was going to stick with him. Perhaps he¡¯d find a mate. Perhaps he¡¯d have pups of his own, and then Uncle Kevin would be there to protect them and to babysit. I had not been built for eternal solitude. Everyone needed a friend, and I had Akela. *** The morning sky was finally blue again. A few, small clouds lingered here and there, the world resuming the springtime the storm had so rudely interrupted. The trees were dressing up in their various green garments, and the denizens of the forests were out and about, conducting business as usual. Akela stretched, then walked over to the opening of the alcove, stuck his nose out, sniffed the air and complained. Hungry. ¡®You ate just yesterday,¡¯ I commented. Hungry. Should hunt. ''Alright, alright. How hungry are you?¡¯ I didn¡¯t hear his stomach growling ¡ª when he was hungry for real, I could always hear it. He was just bored. Then again, for a lone wolf without a pack, boredom and hunger had the same solution. I wasn¡¯t against the idea of going shopping. I didn¡¯t have a particular destination in mind for our hunting trip, and neither did Akela. He walked and walked, slaloming between the trees, sniffing and listening for things that might be good prey. We covered quite a lot of ground: the forest between the Rockies and the sea stretched for at least six or seven kilometeres, and we were getting close to the beach. Akela followed the Thames Junior ¡ª yes, that¡¯s what I had named the river ¡ª hoping to catch a boar or unigoat as they came to drink. But we had no luck for the first half of the day. We wandered closer and closer to the coast, and by mid-afternoon I heard Akela¡¯s stomach growling. Then, out of a sudden he stopped, flicked his ears forward, sniffing the air. ¡®What is it?¡¯ I asked. New prey. Strange prey. He thought, and I felt his confusion. I was taken aback: these were thoughts I had not heard from him before. On this island everything was simply prey. Good old regular prey. To hear him think about new and strange prey was, well, new and strange. Akela didn¡¯t move a muscle as the rustling and bustling of shrubs grew so loud even I could hear them. Footfalls. They sounded ¡­ familiar, somehow. We waited. Akela waited to see what kind of new prey the island suddenly had to offer, and I waited because I recognised what I was hearing. I knew exactly what creature it was that produced such a noisy and familiar rhythm when running. It took only a few seconds before the creature came into view between the trees, and holy shit I almost jumped off Akela¡¯s back when, for the first time after two, long years, I saw a human. Chapter Twelve Chapter Twelve Prey? Akela asked. He had never been uncertain about anything until now. Then he saw the creature that appeared before us and he didn¡¯t know what it was, didn¡¯t know what to do with it. I was barely aware he was asking me a question ¡ª if I had a heart, it would have been beating in my throat with excitement and anticipation at the sight of a creature with two legs and two arms, covered in clothes instead of fur. And if I had eyes I couldn¡¯t have torn them away from her. ¡®No, not prey,¡¯ I told Akela, recovering from my momentary stun. Fine. The young woman was running, her path bringing her straight to us. She noticed Akela and she slid to a halt a couple of meters from us. She jerked back, looking left and right, then at us again again. She was scared ¡ª I hadn¡¯t seen a human face for two years, but I knew mortal terror when I saw it. And I didn¡¯t think we were the reason for her tear-drenched mask of hopelessness. She couldn¡¯t see me ¡ª of this I was sure ¡ª and even though I could imagine how coming face to face with a smallish wolf would be a frightening experience, it wasn¡¯t the case here. She was running from something, something that was worse than a wolf. ¡®Sit down, Akela! Sit down!¡¯ I whispered. Akela sat. I wanted to show this woman we weren¡¯t a threat to her, and this was the first and only idea that popped into my mind in a sudden situation such as this. The woman stared at Akela, holding her breath, her eyes wide with her surprise. Then she shot a worried look behind her in the direction she came from. She was bruised; her face, her neck, her shoulders had the tell-tale signs of beatings. She looked haggard, malnourished. The blue rag she wore might have been a dress at some point before someone had tried to tear it off her, leaving it in shreds, soaked and dripping with water. It was difficult to judge her age being the wretched state she was, but I didn¡¯t think she was older than late teens, twenty at most. I almost forgot to ponder the question of where the hell she had come from so suddenly and without warning. As Akela sat down, staring at her with his red puppy-eyes, the woman quickly realized that the big bad wolf wasn¡¯t about to attack and eat her. She didn¡¯t waste any time: she slowly, carefully went around a tree to avoid having to walk directly past us, and then she ran off. ¡®That was ¡­ weird,¡¯ I said, just to myself. Strange prey. ¡®Not prey! She¡¯s human.¡¯ I snapped at Akela, which I regretted immediately. I knew his mental vocabulary wasn¡¯t extensive and I knew what he meant. He didn¡¯t deserve me being snappy with him. But I didn¡¯t get to apologize, because the next human came along. *** I heard the man yelling long before I saw him, and by long I meant about fifteen seconds. I didn¡¯t understand the language, but I¡¯d have been more than surprised If it wasn¡¯t swearing and cursing. He appeared between the trees, running the same path the young woman had been, chasing her with all he got. For a moment I didn¡¯t know what to think. It wasn¡¯t that I¡¯d known what to expect, it was more like I didn¡¯t expect a man looking like a crossover between a pirate of the Caribbean and a medieval mercenary. Because that was the first impression I had of the man as he rushed forward, screaming, mouth almost foaming with rage. The man wore rough looking clothes: brown trousers, a shirt that might have been white in a distant past, and a cuirass over it. All sorts of necklaces and ornaments hung about his neck. A dagger-looking thing hung on his belt, and in his hand he held a short spear. He sported a bushy beard and shaggy hair. He looked menacing. And he was chasing a young woman. This was suspicious. Akela growled at the man as he approached. The pirate stopped almost in the same spot the woman had stopped not twenty seconds ago. He looked at us and he immediately leveled his spear, pointing it at us. I made ready to activate Mana-Armor. Akela of course was just looking ¡ª he didn¡¯t know what a spear was or what it could do. This ¡­ this didn¡¯t look good. I was astonished that my first and unbidden, almost instinctual thought was that I didn¡¯t want to get involved with this. Not at all. Setting aside the sudden mystery of how the hell people just appeared on my Misery Island, this looked bad. I didn¡¯t know who the woman was or why she was being chased. For all I knew she could have been a criminal, and the man a sort of enforcer of laws. On the other hand she might have been fleeing from a murdering rapist. I didn¡¯t know, I couldn¡¯t know, and I wanted to have nothing to do with. But that was a human instinct. My Tentacle Horror instinct only saw the teal colored soul of the man and it wanted to have a taste. It looked yummy, it looked nutritious, it looked more substantial and filling than any animal soul I¡¯d seen and eaten. The temptation built up in me in a second. The man stared at Akela, frowning, tense and ready to make a move. Akela was sitting peacefully, tilting his head, keeping his red eyes on the man. Mana was already roiling in its pool, sensing the order forming in my mind. But ¡­ I didn¡¯t know what to do. What was the right thing to do here? Stay out of it? Help the girl? Clearly violence had happened already, and was about to happen again if the man caught her. I was dismayed. I was dismayed that my first encounter with humans in this world was nothing but a reminder of what human nature was like. And I was appalled by myself, because I was hesitant. Because I considered to just step back and to let this play out without even making the attempt to find out why. I activated Mana-Armor. Akela stood up, sensing the Mana flowing out of me, enveloping him. The man flinched, then crouched a little, getting into some sort of fighting stance, gripping his spear a little harder with both hands. Prey? ¡®Not yet,¡¯ I said to Akela. The wolf was excited. Sort of. Maybe a bit worried, too. To him, it was new prey he¡¯d not tasted yet, but he didn¡¯t know how dangerous this new prey could be. Well, he was a wolf, so to him it was a matter or weighing the risk-reward ratio. But to me it was something vastly different. I had to made up my mind. ¡®You know what?¡¯ I said to the wolf. ¡®I¡¯m not going to stay out of this.¡¯ This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Voice? I didn¡¯t expect Akela to understand this. ¡®Step forward please!¡¯ I said to him. Akela obeyed with glee, in fact, he took two steps forward, growling louder than before, just to remind the new prey in town that we were on top of things here. Mana started ticking down ¡ª at a cost of five MP per minute to cover Akela fully, I could keep Mana-Armor up for as long as twelve to thirteen minutes. I thought it should be enough time to convince the man that it wasn¡¯t a good idea to proceed with his chase. Hopefully he¡¯d give up and go back to¡­ uh¡­ wherever. After that it wouldn¡¯t be hard for Akela to find the woman, and I believed I could work out how to communicate with her. I had no doubt in my mind now: I didn¡¯t want to be someone who¡¯d just let this sort of thing happen without at least knowing who these people were, how and why they were here, and why they were doing the things they were doing. This was our island. My Misery Island. Akela and I stood at the top here, and I¡¯d be damned if I shirked away from this out of fear, or other old, human habits. The idea of setting rules in an island kingdom of animals made no sense. But when humans came into the picture, rules were the one thing you just had to have. Because humans. And the first rule I made right there on the spot was that there would be no killing or beating the woman without a very, very good reason. So the plan was to get the man to back off, and then to learn the details and make decisions based on it. That was the plan. For about ten seconds, until the second man showed up. *** The pirate glanced at the swordsman, saying a few words I didn¡¯t understand. I simply gawked at the newcomer, unable to process what I was seeing, and for a moment, forgetting the situation at hand. His appearance wasn¡¯t an issue. He looked more presentable than the pirate: he wore brown trousers, a dirty white shirt and a brown, leather vest over it. He had a serious looking belt with a a trio of small blades attached to it, and held a sword in one hand. But all that was secondary. The newcomer, the swordsman, was gawking at Akela. And from above him, almost as if sitting on his shoulders, a faceless, translucent apparition stared at me. Not at Akela. At me. It had the same blue color my own ghostly body had. I was taken aback by the sight of this spiritual creature ¡ª because that¡¯s what it was, I was sure of it. It looked nothing like me. It was a genie halfway out of its bottle. Its upper body was somewhat similar to that of a man, gaunt and thin, tapering down below the waist, narrowing to a string, lodged into the man¡¯s soul. I could almost see and feel the Essence that connected the creature to the man in a similar if not the same fashion I clung to Akela. The spirit creature had a pair of elongated, scythe-like arms with no hands or fingers, and on top of a long neck, a faceless head sat. It had no eyes, no nose, no features at all, but I could feel its gaze on me. It was a horrifying ghost of a ghoul, and I was glad Akela couldn¡¯t see it. I was also sure the swordsman couldn¡¯t see it either. ¡®Tentacle Horror!¡¯ I heard a voice similar to mine, like a distant echo. The swordsman flinched, said something in his unknown language, turning his head frantically to look for the source of the voice. I knew who spoke. And it seemed the spirit knew what I was. ¡®Jevan, forget the girl! Kill the wolf!¡¯ the spirit said to its host. The man flinched again. The spear-wielding pirate was looking at him, confused. I gathered the name of the swordsman was Jevan, and he seemed rather shocked by hearing the spirit speak. I spoke to Akela all the time; he¡¯d been confused only for the first day or two. Was it possible that the swordsman had never heard the spirit? That the spirit never spoke to him? Maybe. I didn¡¯t know. And why did I hear and understand the spirit, but not understand the men? Again, I didn¡¯t know. What I knew was that the ghostly, horrid looking creature had just ordered the men to kill Akela, and I had no doubt it was to enable it to kill me. I couldn¡¯t have that. The swordsman recovered from his initial shock, said something to the pirate, then lifted his sword, assuming a fighting stance. The pirate stepped away from him, trying to circle around me as much as the trees let him, the tip of his spear aimed at us. There was no more time to hesitate, but ... I hesitated. Again, I didn¡¯t know what to do. My previous plan had just gone up in smoke, and my choices were to fight or run. I didn¡¯t want to fight. But I didn¡¯t want to run either. Maybe I could talk my way out of this. ¡®Hey, you! On top of the swordsman!¡¯ I yelled at the spirit. ¡®Stop!¡¯ the spirit said immediately, and the swordsman stopped. The man yelled something to the pirate, and he stopped, too. Voice? Too many prey. Akela complained. The wolf was getting nervous. He¡¯d been excited about one new and unknown prey, he was much less excited about two. I had to give it to him, his risk assessment was spot on ¡ª I was nervous, too. But it seemed there was a chance to talk my way out of a needless fight, and I took it. I called off Mana-Armor to save Mana, but I was ready to activate it again in a split second. ¡®You ¡­ you speak,¡¯ the spirit said, his hollow voice sounding somewhat confused, if I was any judge. ¡®Well, yeah I speak. And I don¡¯t appreciate you trying to kill me and my buddy. That¡¯s just ¡­ rude.¡¯ I said to the spirit. I tried to keep my voice steady and confident, but I sounded like I always did. I had no idea what medium carried my voice to the other spirit. It wasn¡¯t air for sure ¡ª the men couldn¡¯t hear me at all, so I figured it must have been the Essence in the air. ¡®You are ¡­ a Tentacle Horror. A young Tentacle Horror. And you ¡­ speak?¡¯ the spirit inquired. ¡®That I am, yes, and I speak. Look, I¡¯m not looking for a fight or anything, so¡­ let¡¯s just¡­ uh¡­ get along?¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯ve never heard of this. You must die.¡¯ ¡®Hold on, hold on! I don¡¯t know what you think you know, but I¡¯m certain I don¡¯t need to die, alright?¡¯ I protested, and I was a mere millisecond away to re-activate Mana-Armor and to get Akela either to flee or to charge at someone. The man, Jevan, must have heard the other spirit¡¯s part of the conversation: he said something, and the spirit replied to him. ¡®It¡¯s a corrupted beast. A dangerous one.¡¯ it said. The swordsman protested, or I guessed it was a protest. ''You can get the girl later and do whatever you want with her,¡¯ the spirit said to him. ¡®The beast and its corrupting spirit must be killed.¡¯ I activated Mana-Armor a just second before I sensed a flow of Mana rushing out of the spirit, making its way through Jevan¡¯s soul, then exiting him and gathering on the blade in his hand. He swung his sword at me. He was a few meters away, but my Tentacle Horror instinct told me what was coming. I urged Akela to run. He reacted a little too slow, and that sharp, flying blade made of Mana crashed into him. It was like my Mana-Blast, but condensed into a single, flying blade. Or arrow. Or bullet. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure. Akela tumbled on the ground, whining, as the invisible blade got him in his side. Mana-Armor protected him, but I imagined it was something like a bulletproof vest stopping a bullet: you still felt the impact and got bruised underneath. The pirate rushed forward, and before Akela could scramble to his feet, the steel tip of his spear met with the Mana covering the wolf¡¯s neck. Mana-Armor held, Akela whimpered. The swordsman was coming, too, and I knew that if we got bogged down here, taking hit after hit, my Mana would run out, and they¡¯d skewer Akela. The pirate pulled his spear back, ready to drive it into Akela again. I activated Mana-Glove on one of my tentacles and I swung it at his leg. At almost a meter in length, my tentie just about reached him, leaving a deep, bloody gouge on his lower leg, and if I felt it right, perhaps cut into his shin-bone, too. The man screamed, almost dropping, but he stuck the tip of his spear into the ground, leaning on it and balancing himself. The swordsman was two steps away from us now, but Akela got to his feet, and I didn¡¯t need to tell him to run for it. I sensed another Mana-Blade coming our way, but Akela ran like the wind, and we disappeared among the trees. Chapter Thirteen Chapter Thirteen ¡®Are you okay?¡¯ I asked Akela. Fine. He assured me. He ran, navigating between the trees, and he didn¡¯t seem injured. Mana-Armor had worked better then I hoped. I imagined a spear-tip wasn¡¯t all that different from the sharp horn of a unigoat, and holy shit a unigoat could put some force into a stab. So it was nothing out of the ordinary. That mana-blade the swordsman flung at us, that was no joke. It was an interesting idea, but developing and testing a similar skill for myself had to wait. We had to put some distance between us and that weird spirit and its human mount. At least until I came up with a new plan. That spirit was hell-bent on killing me ¡ª that¡¯s how it looked ¡ª and I suspected trying to convince it again would be a futile effort. It turned out Wensah hadn¡¯t been joking when she said Tentacle Horrors were usually killed on sight. I had to defend myself, didn¡¯t I? And if I wanted to do that, fighting was a better long term plan than running and hiding, But that gave rise to another question. Several questions, actually. Did I have a chance of defeating that spirit? Was it on its own or did it have a bunch of friends hiding somewhere? And even more important than that: could I attempt to kill the spirit without killing its host? Based on what I¡¯d heard the spirit say, I was leaning towards rapist rather than lawman, so¡­ did the swordsman deserve to be spared? And ¡­ did I have any right to dish out judgments and punishments just like that? Damn! When I had first arrived here, I had lost all hope of finding humans. But for God¡¯s sake, did it have to be like this the moment they finally showed up? And bring a trigger-happy spirit to boot? This was just unfair. Bloody humans and bloody spirits. We arrived at a clearing not far from the river. Here the trees were sparser, the place was brighter, and rocky outcroppings of all shapes and sizes littered the place. Akela slowed down and arrived at one of the larger rocks that I could almost call an abstract, avantgarde statue. I knew that rock very well: it was a navigational landmark for creatures like me who could only rely on visuals. ¡®Akela, stop!¡¯ He stopped and sat down on the shrubs. I needed to defend myself, that much was clear. It was the right of any creature, and I had no intention to just offer my metaphorical neck and wait for the ghostly, scythe-like arms to slice me in half. No way. Regardless of circumstances, the situation boiled down to this: I could either be the hunter or the hunted. ¡®Akela, we are going to hunt,¡¯ I said to him. New prey? He inquired. ¡®Yep, new and strange prey.¡¯ *** Everything I knew about spirits ¡ª which wasn¡¯t much ¡ª was based purely on my experiences with my own body. But I had no reason to believe that run-off-the-mill spirits ¡ª save for the likes of Wensah ¡ª were much different from me. She had mentioned familiars, and I figured I was dealing with one of those. I made some educated guesses: it couldn¡¯t move without a host, it produced Mana and supplied it to its host, and it could probably eat souls, and therefore it could harm me or eat me. It had a featureless face, so it might have only seen in the direction it was facing, but the safe thing was to assume it could see as well as I could. I turned to my companion. ¡®Akela, find the prey. Not the one whose leg I cut. Not the one I first said wasn¡¯t prey. The third one.¡¯ Fine. He acknowledged. I wasn¡¯t sure if Akela understood the concept of revenge, but when I conveyed a vague mental image of the swordsman, his ¡°fine¡± carried a substantial amount of animosity and an uneasy anticipation of violence. I found this both strange and comforting. Strange because this had never happened with regular prey: prey was just prey, no hard feelings. And comforting because I would have felt bad if I was the only one angry and worried. It was great not to be alone. Akela left the Rock-Garden behind, and we ventured back into the thick of the forest. I let Akela do his thing ¡ª my own senses consisting of vision and hearing only, he didn''t need my meddling. Akela did not disappoint. It took him less than half an hour of sniffing to find the swordsman named Jevan. The man was trudging through thick undergrowth, trying to navigate from one tree to the next without tripping over roots and rocks. Akela wasn¡¯t exactly a silent hunter, but with the uncountable noises of the forest ¡ª the rustling of leaves, the bustling of birds and critters and bugs ¡ª neither man nor spirit heard us sneaking up on them from behind. I caught glimpses of the man¡¯s back and of the sinister looking apparition hovering above his shoulders. Akela trailed them, getting closer to them little by little. He ducked down when the man stopped to look around and resumed stalking when the man walked on. Jevan spoke occasionally ¡ª I could just about hear him ¡ª and even though I didn¡¯t understand the words, I was sure he was complaining to his familiar, or questioning the necessity of finding and slaying the Tentacle Horror. I wished they would just give up and go away, but if the curt and angry replies of the familiar were any indication, that wasn¡¯t going to happen. From what I could tell, they were heading towards the Rock Garden. I hadn¡¯t been paying much attention to what paths Akela had taken to find the strange prey ¡ª I wasn¡¯t that kind of a backseat driver ¡ª but we must have circled around. But this was a good thing. The Rock Garden was a nice spot for an ambush as far as my understanding of ambushes went. But Akela, the lone hunter, he knew all about ambushing his prey. ¡®Akela! How about an ambush at the Rock Garden?¡¯ I asked. Good. ¡®So ¡­ lure them there?¡¯ Good! Strong teeth? Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡®Sure.¡¯ Since he gave me the highest level of agreement he was capable of, I had no reason to withhold Mana from him. My pools were full, and if it came down to being nice and careful with the swordsman or keeping Akela as safe and efficient as possible, it wasn¡¯t even a choice. Lure! Now! Akela announced. Then he sprung up and sprinted. The swordsman pivoted when he heard the noise of the approaching predator, sword raised, ready to strike. But Akela wasn¡¯t aiming for him; he ran past him, making sure there were trees between us, leaving him behind within seconds. ¡®He¡¯ll follow us! He¡¯s following us!¡¯ I cheered as the man broke into a run, no doubt urged on by his familiar. Akela was clever about this: he kept a pace fast enough to be safe from the flying Mana-blades, but not fast enough for Jevan to lose sight of us. We slalomed around the trees, avoiding Jevan''s attacks, and we were in the Rock Garden in less than ten minutes. If there was any place suitable to confront someone who had a Mana-fueled ranged attack, this was it, and I smiled in my soul as Jevan and his murder-hobo of a companion approached. We hid behind one of the rocks as they arrived. The man rushed into the Rock Gardern, his footsteps loud, panting and muttering unhappy words. I activated Mana-Armor, and Akela knew it was time to do what we came here to do. *** Akela rushed from one outcropping to another. The first Mana-Blade crashed into rock, leaving a shallow scratch on it. I was sure that the projectile would slice or tear through an unarmored body as easily as a bullet from a gun. Akela didn¡¯t stop; he ran to the next rock and hid behind it. Jevan stood in the midst of the natural stone monuments, turning, looking, trying to follow our movements. ¡®Kill it! Now!¡¯ the familiar urged him, to which the man replied with angry grunts. ''Akela, when you think you can do it, bite his arm! The arm that holds the sword,¡¯ I whispered to him, sending him as clear a mental image of the man¡¯s sword-arm as I could. Good. Akela agreed He broke into a sprint again, reaching for another rock to hide behind. Another Mana-Blade struck, flinging little peaces of rock into the air again. We were running circles around Jevan, seeing him only when we were between rocks; the man took small steps, holding his sword in front of him with gritted teeth, sweat rolling down his face. Akela finally judged the time right to make his assault. He took a sharp turn between a rock and a tree and charged the man. Either Jevan was too slow or Akela was too fast ¡ª before the man could bring his sword to bear, before he could let loose another Mana-Blade, we were there. Akela, drawing on my Mana Pool, willed the magical substance to gather in his jaws and on his teeth. He jumped and bit into the wrist of the man. Jevan screamed, and the sword fell to the ground. I flung all five of my free tentacles at the spirit, trying to wrap them around it, to restrain it. The familiar swung his scythe-like arms. I maneuvered my tenties the best I could, hoping to snake around the dangerous limbs, but the damned creature was fast. It sliced through one of my tentacles, and for the first time since I¡¯d been thrown into this world, I felt pain. Akela dragged the screaming, flailing and kicking man to the ground, and we ¡ª the two spirits ¡ª went down with them. The pain I felt was weird. It wasn¡¯t just one pain. It was two. One was akin to accidentally cutting myself with a Stanley knife; nothing to panic about if you a had some plasters handy. Luckily I wasn¡¯t the kind of creature that could bleed, and my body started sealing the wound with Spirit-Stuff. The other pain I felt was like a sudden stomach-ache. That familiar ¡­ it hurt me. It hurt the part of me that was hidden away in a spirit-dimension somewhere. It could have chipped away at my human soul for all I knew. I did not like this pain, and both fear and anger bubbled up in me. ¡®Listen to me you piece of shit spirit-bastard! You either surrender or ¡­¡¯ I screamed at the familiar as I wrapped my remaining four tentacles around its two arms, finally restraining him. ¡®You must die!¡¯ it hissed at me, interrupting my insult-filled last offer of peace. ¡®Is that your last word you stupid fuck?¡¯ Instead of replying, it tried to swing its arms at me again, but my tenties coiled up on them like a giant squid around a ship on the high seas. I could feel the strain, almost the same kind of strain I used to feel in my muscles when lifting something heavy. I didn¡¯t know how long I could keep it up; the familiar was writhing and twisting, doing its best to free itself from my grip. It even tried to headbutt me. But ¡­ it wasn¡¯t doing what I had expected it to do: it wasn¡¯t eating me. Akela¡¯s jaws tightened around Jevan¡¯s wrist; blood was flowing freely, but the man drew one of his small blades from his belt with his other hand. He stabbed at Akela with abandon, shrieking and crying, his voice reaching higher and higher notes. Mana-Armor did its job, and Akela, despite the whimpering sounds he let out, didn¡¯t let go of the man¡¯s arm, sinking his teeth deeper. My Mana-Pool was emptying fast as Mana-Armor had to draw more and more of it to protect him against the flurry of stabs. But my Essence Pools were still full. I could drag this out if I had to, but I no longer saw any use in reasoning with the spirit. And I certainly didn¡¯t enjoy this sort of struggle. I wanted to finish this. I wanted to get it over with and I wanted to do it quickly. ¡®Abomination!¡¯ the familiar shrieked with its weird, boxed-in spirit voice. ¡®You¡¯re eating me!¡¯ ¡®You bet! And who¡¯s fucking fault is that now, huh?¡¯ I growled at him, letting my anger take control. With my tentacles wrapped around its arms, consuming the familiar didn¡¯t take much effort on my part. It was no different than eating an ant-soul, or a squirrel, or a unigoat. I just had to make a conscious decision, and my body did the rest. The fact that the familiar still wasn¡¯t doing the same led me to believe that it couldn¡¯t. It seemed I had the advantage here after all, the same way Akela the predator had the advantage over prey. As I began to consume my opponent, I realised at last why it reacted to me the way it did: if a Tentacle Horror was a wild, instinct driven predator, an indiscriminate devourer of souls and spirits, then it just made sense. Unfortunately. What I didn¡¯t understand was why it wouldn¡¯t listen to me. Didn¡¯t it see and hear that I was different? Bones crunched, and Jevan¡¯s hand fell away from the rest of his arm as Akela bit all the way through. The man was getting paler, his movements slowing, his cries dying. Akela let his arm go and bit into his shoulder. Jevan¡¯s wrist was an ugly, mangled stump now, as far from a clean, surgical cut as it could get, bleeding profusely. The familiar wailed and tried anything it could. It threw Mana at me. It threw Mana at Akela. It commanded and pleaded that Jevan get up and run. Until it couldn¡¯t speak any more. First its arms, then its torso and then its head lost its shape, becoming a blue ghost-jelly that my tentacles sucked up like a spirit-smoothie through a straw. For a minute I ate. It tasted wonderful, and I hated it. Then I was full and I grew. The pain disappeared, and I reached Level 22. But there was still more to eat. So I ate until nothing was left of the familiar. And I reached Level 23 and I grew again. Jevan was barely breathing now, his skin turning white, his eyes sinking. He lost too much blood, and even if I¡¯d been able to make a tourniquet, it would have been too late. Probably. ¡®Akela, let him go!¡¯ Akela released him; the bite wound in Jevan¡¯s shoulder bled only a little. The wolf sat down next to the dying man, staring at him with his red eyes. Jevan whimpered. I wasn''t sure he knew he was done for. I could see on his face that expression of terrified incredulity. I felt a sudden sympathy for Jevan the swordsman. I remembered the time I got shot. I remembered what went through my mind that time: ¡°Was this really happening? Am I going to be alright? Am I going to die?¡± Then I had died. And now, so did Jevan the swordsman. Shit! Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fourteen It was over. Jevan lay lifeless, his eyes open and hazed over. The familiar was gone, too ¡ª it became so much EXP that I had leveled twice. I had to consider moving the decimal point to dumb this down, because the requirement for the next level felt close to a million EXP. I had a good head for numbers, but didn¡¯t want to deal with this without a calculator. I could just say it was a thousand instead of a million, and adjust everything else accordingly. Yes. That was exactly what I should do. The thought was a distraction, I realised. I guessed I just I didn¡¯t want to face the fact that I had killed not one but two intelligent creatures: a man and a spirit. I could have made some feeble excuses that technically it was Akela who had killed the man, and I had only killed a spirit, but ¡­ this was on me. It was a simple matter: they had decided I should not live and I disagreed. This was the result. It was what it was, and I just had to deal with it. ¡®Are you alright?¡¯ I asked Akela. Fine. He declared. He sat next to the man¡¯s body, staring at it and sniffing it. Strange prey. ¡®Yes. Strange,¡¯ I agreed. Jevan¡¯s teal colored soul began to flicker. It was going to dissipate soon, and my Tentacle Horror instinct screamed at me not to let such a fine meal go to waste. Would it be considered cannibalism if I ate a human soul? In all honesty, I felt less distaste at the prospect of eating his soul than at killing him in the first place. I looked at my severed tentacle, hovering in the air like a phantom-snake. I was somewhat surprised it hadn¡¯t disappeared, dissipated or floated away. It was just there, as if someone had painted it against the backdrop of the swaying branches and leaves of the trees. Would it be considered self-cannibalism if I ate it? Hungry. Want to eat. Akela licked some blood off Jevan''s severed hand. Oh, how I envied Akela at that moment. To him this was nothing out of the ordinary: he hunted his prey, he killed it, and he wanted to eat it. Business as usual for a wolf. Was the wolf bad or evil because his prey happened to be human? I didn¡¯t think so. What about me then? Don¡¯t like strange prey. Akela declared. Well and hell, I''d been wrond: he didn¡¯t want to eat this prey. For a moment it occurred to me that it might hurt Jevan¡¯s pride: ¡°You went to all this trouble to kill me and now you don¡¯t even want to eat me?¡± I laughed. It was a stupid thought. But at the same time it was a relief ¡ª I really didn¡¯t want to see Akela feeding on the man. I¡¯d gotten used to unigoat guts, but ¡­ just no. In the end I gave in to my Tentacle Horror instinct and I plunged all of my tenties into Jevan¡¯s soul before it began to disappear. It took me a minute to consume the soul. It tasted great. It tasted like mint. Like chocolate filled with toothpaste. It was refreshing. I liked it, and that scared me. I got Akela to stand up and trod closer to my floating tentie so I could reach it. I managed to do that, and I ate it like I ate anything else. It tasted similar to the familiar ¡ª not quite the same, but close ¡ª and that otherworldly quality, that feeling that I was consuming more than just that visible piece of Spirit-Stuff, was there too. The EXP was plentiful. Jevan¡¯s soul gave me roughly two-hundred thousand, and my tentacle gave me half as much. I realised I could grow and level quickly ¡ª probably limitlessly ¡ª on a diet of humans and spirits. Why didn¡¯t the familiar do it then? If I had been it, or him, I''d have done it first thing. Was it a natural difference between me and the familar? Was it a different species of spirit? I had a feeling that it was exactly the case, my Tentacle Horror instinct whispering it into my mind. If that was true, then things were skewed in my favor, weren¡¯t they? Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Voice? Hungry. Akela complained, looking at the dead man with disappointment. I brought out what little was left of the unigoat from Jack¡¯s Room. Its bones still had some meat here and there, and I hoped it would be enough for him. Akela looked at the remains, tilted his head, then looked at Jevan¡¯s body again. I could have sworn he sighed as he turned back to the bones. *** I decided to take stock and examine my recent growth while Akela munched on his food. I wasn¡¯t really in the mood, but I hoped it would take my mind off recent events and the weird guilt I felt but not felt at the same time. Perhaps I should be more like Akela: it was prey, no hard feelings. The growing and leveling had happened during my fight with the familiar, and I¡¯d done it by instinct rather than conscious decision, so I needed to get acquainted with the changes. The EXP I had gained from the spirit had been so much that I was Level 23 now The tentacle I lost had grown back, and as a bonus, I had grown a new one as well. I had seven of the buggers now, and each of them were a whopping 1.4 meters long approximately. That was twice as long as the arm of an average man. Like poor, dead Jevan, for instance. I was amazed: it was double of what they¡¯d been just two or three levels ago. My body had grown from a diameter of eleven centimeters to twenty. Double again, to the size of a volleyball. Was was that familiar made of? Pure spirit-protein and steroids? How else could I explain this unprecedented growth? My main Essence Pool¡¯s capacity had grown to 59 and my Mana Pool to 33. I had a feeling that I¡¯d become more Mana-efficient in the use of my skills; I hadn¡¯t really been keeping track of it, but the 5 Mana per minute it cost me to keep Akela fully clad in Mana-Armor used to be at least 7 Mana per minute. It was a good development. I wondered why the familiar didn¡¯t do the same for Jevan. Not being able to eat other spirits was one thing, but for God¡¯s sake, didn¡¯t it have some skills to protect its host? I decided I didn¡¯t want to ponder that question right now. Not with the freshly deceased Jevan staring up at the sky with his glassy eyes. I should be just happy that I had skills to protect Akela. I activated Mana-Glove on one of my tenties and I carefully closed Jevan¡¯s eyes for him. There wasn¡¯t anything else I could do ¡ª I didn¡¯t think Akela would have been happy with me if I asked him to dig a large enough hole to bury the man, so that was off the table. I had kept some of the Spirit-Stuff from the man¡¯s soul, mixing it with some Essence and Mana, and I used it to I expand my secondary Essence Pool from 24 to 29. I also expanded Jack¡¯s Room: I managed to enlarge it by three spaces, increasing it from 14 to 17. All in all, I had a lot to thank Jevan and his familiar for. I still wished they¡¯d not picked a fight, though. I wished the familiar had listened. Akela finished his lunch. I wondered what had happened to the spear wielding pirate. The wound I''d inflicted wasn''t fatal: at most he¡¯d have some difficulty walking. Then I wondered where the young woman could have gone. Akela could find her, I had no doubt, and perhaps it was time to go and look for her. But before that, I wanted to try something. I got Akela to go back to Jevan¡¯s body. I activated Mana-Glove on four of my tenties and managed to fiddle two of his small blades out from his belt. Not having fingers was an inconvenience on occasion ¡ª it wasn¡¯t often that I needed to grip things, but when I did, I could use my Mana-Gloved tenties as if they were pincers, or just coil one around an object and lift it. The small blades were throwing knives maybe, or very small daggers, I wasn¡¯t sure. I used a few EPs to pull them into Jack¡¯s Room, the pair of blades taking up 1 space. Then I got Akela to trod over to the sword the man had dropped. It had a straight, narrow blade and a small hand-guard ¡ª the weapon was maybe a cross between short sword and a rapier, but I wasn¡¯t an expert on swords, so I didn¡¯t dwell on it. It took up 3 spaces in Jack¡¯s Room. I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d ever have a use for them, but they were the first man-made objects I¡¯d come across, and it seemed like a waste to just leave them behind. I turned to Akela and taking a deep, mental breath, I said, ¡®Right. It¡¯s time to find that woman. Uhm ¡­ the not-prey.¡¯ Fine. Chapter Fifteen Chapter Fifteen Krissintha Arlonet Dar-Ghelain muttered a silent curse. She sat on a bed, on a straw filled mattress, looking down at the floor, failing to hold her tears back. The empty room didn¡¯t offer any comfort or provide any distractions, and she had nothing to do but to wait and to curse fate. She gasped, jerking her head to look at the door when someone knocked. Three knocks, a pause, then three knocks again. She let out a sigh of relief. She stood and walked to the door, her hand trembling as she pulled the bolt to unlock it. What took you so long, Jevan?¡¯ she demanded as the man walked in, locking the door behind him. ¡®Apologies, Lady Krissintha,¡¯ the man murmured, frowning. ¡®Not easy to navigate the city with all that¡¯s going on.¡¯ ¡®Damn traitors. All of them.¡¯ Krissintha hissed. ¡®Well, in their eyes, we¡¯re the traitors. Never forget that! Your life depends on it,¡¯ Jevan said. ¡®We¡¯re loyalists,¡¯ Krissintha said, sitting back down on the bed. Jevan walked to the window at the opposite end of the room. He pulled the dirty curtain aside, peeked through, then let it fall back to obscure the view. It was still daylight, and the noises of the city were yet to die down. ¡®Well, once loyalists lose, they¡¯re no longer loyalists. They¡¯re traitors,¡¯ Jevan said. ¡®You would call my father a traitor?¡¯ she demanded. ¡®I don¡¯t. Everyone else does,¡¯ Jevan said, shrugging. ¡®Take it up with the new king if you wish.¡¯ ¡®The new king ¡­¡¯ Krissintha spat, pouring all her hatred into the words ¡®¡­ had my family executed. The bastard!¡¯ ¡®He had his own brother executed,¡¯ Jevan commented, shrugging again. ¡®There¡¯s nothing we can do about it.¡¯ ¡®How? How can you be so cold, Jevan? You served my father for long, and with honor,¡¯ she said, glaring at him. ¡®Hm. And look where it got me,¡¯ he murmured. ¡®What was that?¡¯ ¡®Nothing, Lady Krissintha, nothing,¡¯ he said, giving her a strange smile. Krissintha wanted to yell at the retainer; how dare he speak to her so casually about the tragedy that had befallen not just her family, but the entire country? She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, but caught herself before she made that mistake. The walls weren¡¯t thick in this inn, and who knew who was listening on the other side ¡ª the city was crawling with the so called ¡°loyalists¡±. Traitors and murderers each and every one of them. They all deserved to be drawn and quartered. They should all be drawn and quartered. Unfortunately, with only a single retainer still loyal, she couldn¡¯t make that happen, even if the retainer was a spiritualist. Jevan pulled one of the two chairs in the room, sitting down, facing Krissintha, keeping his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword. ¡®Alright, listen!¡¯ he said. ¡®I¡¯ve made the arrangements, we¡¯re leaving tonight. The ship is called the Dalar¡¯s Heart. The wharf is only a few streets down from here.¡¯ ¡®You managed to ¡­ procure enough to pay the fare?¡¯ she asked. ¡®I¡¯ve got the payment alright,¡¯ Jevan said with a smile. ¡®Get some sleep before then. I¡¯ll wake you when it¡¯s time.¡¯ An urge to yawn came over Krissintha as soon as she heard the word ¡°sleep¡±. Krissintha was tired. She was hungry. She hadn¡¯t had a decent meal for ages and she¡¯d had very little sleep for the past few day. She wanted to sleep, but she was afraid to close her eyes: if she did, she¡¯d have to see her father¡¯s head on a pike, smiling at her, asking her to join him. She¡¯d have to see her mother, hanging on a rope, naked, crying out to her, begging her to save her. She¡¯d have to see her older brother, riddled with arrows, yelling at her to escape. And her imagination would feed her terrible images in her sleep: images of what could have happened to her younger brother. Not knowing was almost worse than knowing. ¡®I can¡¯t sleep,¡¯ she said, looking down on the dirty, greasy floor. ¡®Suit yourself, Lady Krissintha. But I do. I¡¯ll take the bed,¡¯ Jevan said and stood up. ¡®What?¡¯ she said, but before she could do or say anything in protest, Jevan laid down on the bed, pushing her aside. She jumped up, glowering at the man. ¡®How dare you?¡¯ she demanded. ¡®You don¡¯t want to sleep and I need rest,¡¯ he said with his eyes closed. ¡®Take the chair and be ready!¡¯ ¡®How dare you treat your lady like this?¡¯ ¡®Take it up with the new king, Lady Krissintha!¡¯ he murmured. ¡®Now, let me sleep!¡¯ Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure what she should do. This wasn¡¯t how a retainer of House Dar-Ghelain behaved. This wasn¡¯t how Jevan behaved. He had always been a polite man, always treated her with the respect she deserved. She wanted to scold him, but she knew better than to make a commotion, and in the end Jevan was the only one left to help her escape the nightmare her country had become. It seemed she had to make some allowances. She sighed and sat down on the chair. *** Krissintha woke with a start as she felt someone tapping her shoulder. She lifted her head, looking up at the blurry image of Jevan standing over her. ¡®You¡¯re drooling,¡¯ he said. ¡®Time to go.¡¯ She had fallen asleep sitting on the chair, she realised. It was a mistake, but at least the nightmares hadn¡¯t come to visit this time. She rubbed her eyes and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dress. She stared at the once clean and beautiful blue silk. It was grimy now and began to tear at places; she wondered if she should have given in to Jevan¡¯s demand to put on some coarse and dreary woolen clothes. It was too late for that now. The ship was waiting, and they had to go. She stood up, stretching her limbs. Ah, a cup of tea would be nice. A bath would be nice. Unfortunately, simply wishing for things didn¡¯t make them happen. Not any more, not since ¡­ ¡®Ready?¡¯ Jevan asked, putting his cape on. ¡®Ready,¡¯ she said. She picked up the small bag, containing the few belongings she¡¯d managed to save before they had to flee the estate. She held it up to Jevan. ¡®I can¡¯t protect you if my hands are full,¡¯ he said, shaking his head, scowling. She nodded and threw the bag over her shoulder. *** The meager lights from shuttered windows and locked doors were barely enough to see by in the dark alleyway. Plenty of torches moved on the main streets ¡ª the nighttime patrols of the militia were frequent and they were everywhere. It seemed the damned traitors had expected loyalists to try to leave Thyssa via any and all port cities, Cago included. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Jevan led the way, sneaking along the darkest, most deserted paths where even full moon failed to provide enough light to see. Jevan stopped occasionally, pushing her and himself into the shadows, hiding, and waiting for militiamen to pass by. At such times, she could momentarily see the faint, silvery shimmer of his familiar¡¯s power coming and going on his arm and his fist: Jevan was ready for a fight should they be discovered. Krissintha''s father ¡ª like most lords ¡ª had been a spiritualist, but she didn¡¯t know much about how it worked. But she knew that mere militiamen couldn¡¯t afford the luxury of a familiar, and as such they were no match for Jevan, should it come to a fight. Krissintha thanked his late father for having the foresight to pay Terack¡¯s Shrine, letting his retainers gain familiars. She wished it had been enough to resist the onslaught of the traitor armies, but it wasn¡¯t, and here she was, rushing through the darkness like a thief. She thought it shameful for a lady to flee like this, but there was nothing else she could do. Some other lords and ladies had stayed and offered a short-lived, token resistance, unable to accept reality ¡ª they had been quickly and ruthlessly sent to join their ancestors by the usurper¡¯s forces. She¡¯d often heard her father say that stubbornly holding onto one¡¯s pride was a stupid thing to do, unless one had a strong army and plenty of money to back it up with. Krissintha was woefully short on both resources. So she had fled. She was sure this was what her father would have wanted, and she felt thankful that at least he had Jevan, the last, loyal retainer of her father. The wharf wasn¡¯t far now; she was sure that the dark shapes she saw at the end of the street were masts and sails. Just a few dozen paces up the street and they¡¯d reach the wharf, and she could leave behind this new and horrid Thyssa that had killed her family. Another three or four torch bearing militiamen disappeared around the corner at the top of the street. Jevan grabbed Krissintha¡¯s arm and dragged her along for the final stretch, rushing towards the wharf before another militia group would appear. The wharf was busy even at night. Plenty of people were loitering here, some lazing around, some pushing crates and barrels, or going up and down on gangplanks between ships and the stone wall of the wharf. Some sailors gathered in groups, throwing dice or playing cards at the lights of lanterns, exchanging coins and threats. Jevan pulled Krissintha along to the piers, and they walked onto one of the sturdy, wooden platforms. Some sailors and dock workers stopped to look when they noticed there was a woman in their midst, but one look from Jevan and a dim, silvery flash of power on his hand told them it was better if they minded their own business. The Dalar¡¯s Heart rocked gently, midway up the pier, straining the ropes mooring it. Jevan came to a stop a few steps from the gangplank and spoke to a sailor who was sitting on a barrel. ¡®Is Derik here?¡¯ he asked the bearded man. ¡®Who¡¯re you?¡¯ the man asked, looking them up and down. ¡®Passangers,¡¯ Jevan said. ¡®Right. Wait ¡¯ere!¡¯ The man hopped off the barrel, run up the plank and disappeared on the ship. Krissintha knew next to nothing about ships, but a few glances at the Dalar¡¯s Heart and the loud creaking noises coming from it, made her feel like the ship would fall apart if she gave it a harsher look, or yelled a few curses at it. ¡®Is this ¡­ safe?¡¯ she asked, keeping her voice low. ¡®Safer than staying,¡¯ Jevan said curtly. She wanted to present an argument against taking this particular ship, but the tone of the retainer left her with no doubt that this was the end of the discussion. Figures appeared at the top of the plank. The sailor came back with two other men following him, stopping in front of Jevan. One of them wore a cuirass and carried a spear, the other had a short, curved sword at his hip ¡ª quite unlike the straight blades Thyssans preferred ¡ª and wore a tricorn hat. ¡®Ah, Jevan, it¡¯s you. I wasn¡¯t sure if you¡¯d come. And just in time,¡¯ the man with the weird hat said. ¡®Are you ready to leave, captain?¡¯ Jevan asked. The man looked over Jevan¡¯s shoulder, squinting at Krissintha. ¡®Payment?¡¯ he asked. ¡®As promised,¡¯ Jevan said. ¡®Good, good,¡¯ the captain nodded, smiling at the retainer. ¡®What are we waitin¡¯ for then? Come aboard! Just about finished loadin¡¯ our cargo, so let''s get movin¡¯!¡¯ *** The moon was right above the Dalar¡¯s Heart. Krissintha squinted, looking up at the main mast as she set foot on the deck. Someone was up there, climbing the rigging like a four legged spider. She wondered if that person could see anything up there, in fact, she wondered if it was common for ships to leave under the darkness of night at all. To her knowledge, leaving the harbor was a daytime activity, but she didn¡¯t dwell on it. Perhaps this was one of those smuggling ships she¡¯d read about, conducting their shady businesses and voyages under the cover of night. That was fine with her, as long as they¡¯d leave Thyssa behind. Sailors untied the ropes from the moorings, pulled the gangplank in, and it seemed they were ready to depart. ¡®Oars up n¡¯ push!¡¯ someone yelled an order. The ship trembled slightly as men below deck pushed the ship away from the pier with their long oars. Her eyes flicked to a light that appeared at the bow; she could see the shadow of a sailor climbing back onto the deck after hanging a lantern on the ship¡¯s nose. She heard people yelling on the pier; a number of angry dock workers were hurling insults at the Dalar¡¯s Heart and her captain. It wasn¡¯t anything she should be concerned about, was it? Jevan didn¡¯t pay any mind to it, so why should she? She grabbed onto the railing at the edge of the deck, standing next to Jevan, listening to the captain giving orders, watching the men climbing up the mast and unfurling the sails. The torchlights of the wharf and the pier slowly receded, and Krissintha finally felt safe enough to let out a long sigh of relief: Thyssa was behind her now. *** Krissintha was leaning against the railing, watching the reflection of the moon on the dark and calm sea when the captain approached with the bearded, cuirass wearing man in tow. ¡®We¡¯ll be through the Kethian Strait before daybreak,¡¯ the captain said to Jevan. Krissintha turned around to face the men. ¡®Good to know, Captain Derik,¡¯ Jevan said, nodding knowingly. ¡®How long till we reach Filante?¡¯ ¡®Well, we ain¡¯t exactly welcome along the coast of Kethesh, so we¡¯ll have to pass Istre and Olok on the outer side, you know, just in case. So ¡­ six or seven days with good wind, ten or so otherwise.¡¯ Krissintha was sure now: these people were making their fortunes by smuggling who knew what, and certainly not paying any taxes. Having to avoid the Kethesh coast wouldn¡¯t have made sense otherwise. She didn¡¯t mind, in fact she felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing that taxes or tariffs would not be going to Thyssa¡¯s new king and his Kethian allies, not from this ship. As far as she was concerned, whatever fare Jevan had agreed to pay the smugglers, was worth it. Once in Filante, she would go see her relatives, and¡­ ¡®Now. About your fare,¡¯ the captain said to Jevan, but looking and squinting at Krissintha. ¡®All yours, captain. As agreed,¡¯ Jevan said. Jevan took a step away from her, and both the captain and the bearded man took a step closer to her. A knot started growing in Krissintha¡¯s stomach out of a sudden. Her breathing quickened as she saw the sinister smile on the captain¡¯s face, and the indifference on Jevan¡¯s. ¡®Jevan? What ¡­ is going on?¡¯ she asked. No-one answered her. ¡®She¡¯s good lookin¡¯, you weren¡¯t lyin¡¯ about that,¡¯ the captain said. ¡®Did you say she¡¯s a virgin? I thought lords and such marry off their daughters young.¡¯ ¡®They do,¡¯ Jevan agreed. ¡®But this one¡¯s an insufferable brat. As far as I know she scared off all her suitors, so ¡­ let¡¯s say she untouched.¡¯ ¡®Oh, good, good,¡¯ the captain said, grinning. Krissintha stared at the ship¡¯s captain with wide eyes. The man shrugged, giving her a lopsided smile, then said, ¡®If it makes you feel better, I¡¯m sure they won''t be putting you in the fields or the mines to work. Those Voysair pigs like a challenge.¡¯ ¡®Jevan! I demand an answer! What is going on?¡¯ Krissintha glared at the retainer, trying to ignore the captain''s words and trying to sound calm and composed. ¡®You haven¡¯t figured it out yet, Lady Krissintha?¡¯ Jevan said to her. The loathing and distaste his voice carried when saying her name stunned her into silence. Her head became light, and it felt like the whole ship was starting to swirl around in a vortex. She opened her mouth, but her heart was beating in her throat instead of her chest, and only a few, short gasps made it through. ''Well, that¡¯s touchin¡¯ and all, but I¡¯ll be takin¡¯ the merchandise off your hands now,¡¯ the captain said to Jevan. ¡®As you wish, Captain,¡¯ Jevan said, taking another step away from Krissintha. The captain nodded to the bearded man, and the man stepped to her. Blood and anger rushed to Krissintha¡¯s head. Pain, rage and fear once again melded into the same, single emotion she¡¯d been forced to experience over and over again in the past months. It compelled her to act and it paralyzed her, all at the same time. The bearded man reached out to grab her; Krissintha only saw it from the corner of her eye, but it was enough to tip the scale, enough to make her move. ¡®Jevan! You traitor!¡¯ she screamed. She lunged forward, swinging her arm at Jevan, but before the slap could connect with the traitorous retainer¡¯s face, he caught her arm. Jevan didn¡¯t say a word, lifted his other hand and delivered a backhanded slap. Krissintha fell hard, sliding a few paces on the wet deck, her face burning with pain and anger. ¡®Aah! That felt good,¡¯ Jevan exhaled, smiling. ¡®Oi, Jevan, don¡¯t break the goods, eh,¡¯ the captain complained and motioned the bearded man to get Krissintha. ¡®Bruises go quickly,¡¯ Jevan commented as casually as if talking about the weather. ¡®True,¡¯ the captain relented. The bearded man grabbed Krissintha by her arm, pulled her up and began to drag her towards an open hatch on the deck. She was vaguely aware of a few sailors watching the spectacle, but no-one rushed to her aid, and the one she had been looking to for help until now had nothing but a cold glare to give her. Chapter Sixteen Chapter Sixteen Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain had never begged. When she wanted something from her father or mother, she asked and it was given to her. When she wanted something from anyone else, she demanded it, as was her right, and she received it. The only begging she ever knew was the begging of others, sometimes in front of her father, sometimes in front of her. After five days in the ship''s hold, behind thick, wooden bars keeping her prisoner in her small cell, the pain of betrayal and a sense of hopelessness were piling up on her. Much to her shame, it occurred to her that she might need to try and beg, and it took all her remaining willpower to stop herself from doing so. A putrid smell permeated the entire hold, rats scurried around, and the stale biscuits and dry meat she was given once a day were worse than anything she¡¯d ever even heard about. She was becoming listless, and she¡¯d let the gentle rocking of the ship lull her into sleep more and more often. Sometimes she¡¯d wake to the squeaking of rats chewing on her dress or climbing the bucket containing her filth. Her life at her father¡¯s estate seemed like a distant, half-forgotten dream now. The freedom to do as she pleased was as if it had never existed and would never exist again. But she refused to beg. Every once in a while Jevan would come down, sit on the other side of the bars, throwing insults at her, gloating, and then he¡¯d leave. She tried to ignore him. But how could he hate her so much? She was a lady. How could a retainer so easily betray those he served? Sailors came and went quite frequently, and the same bars kept her safe from their hungry glances. Begging would be in vain here, and she rebuked herself every time the thought surfaced, but each time it was becoming just a little harder to resist. It was on the evening of the fifth day at sea when keeping down the urge to beg became impossible. *** At first she heard some muffled shouting coming from above, from the deck ¡ª orders, complaints and swearing. Krissintha didn¡¯t pay it any mind as she lay on the hard and damp floorboards of her cell. The constant rocking and swaying of the ship and the ever present, faint creaking of wood were a lullaby she had found to be the only solace she could rely on. When water started to drip from the ceiling, and small streams of it began flowing down on the bulkheads, she ignored it. What was it to her? Nothing. It was just rain. She was even thankful that the pattering sound drowned out the voices of sailors on the deck. It was better this way. Some time passed before the gentle rocking of the ship turned into violent jerks and jolts, ups and downs. Krissintha could only hear the roaring winds and thunders now. Three sailors climbed down the hatch into the hold, rushing past her cell, soaked to the bone, swearing and yelling something about ballast and balance and keeping the ship from capsizing. Krissintha lifted her head from the filthy floor. Something was wrong: capsizing did not sound like something a ship should do. But what if it did? She wondered if a watery grave was preferable to being sold as a plaything to Voysair merchants or nobility. Maybe it was. The only thing that irked her was that if the ship went down, she¡¯d have to share her final resting place with that damned traitor, Jevan. She hoped the man would fall overboard and be washed away to another sea and feed the fish somewhere else. This sea just wasn¡¯t big enough for a lady and a traitor. *** The hours that passed were filled with the roaring of winds and the occasional, panicked yells of sailors who were close enough to the hatch for Krissintha to hear them. Seawater was up to her ankles; it was cold and it kept rising, covering every inch of the hold¡¯s floor, pouring down from the hatch, pouring in from cracks in the bulkheads, pouring in from everywhere. Crates and barrels tore free from ropes and belts, rolling and sliding around, bashing against the bulkheads, the bars of her cell and each other. Water reached her knees, then her thighs. She clung to the bars, gritting her teeth, hearing the call of that watery grave louder and louder. She realised that even if she didn¡¯t want to answer that call, the ship, the Dalar¡¯s Heart, seemed to be taking her there regardless. It finally sank in that this was reality, this was happening. As her mind snapped out of her dazed lethargy, a sudden clarity of thought descended on her: she didn¡¯t want to die. A sailor fell down the hatch, splashing into the now waist deep water in the hold. The man scrambled to his feet and tried to trudge back to the ladder. Krissintha yelled. ¡®Let me out! Let me out!¡¯ Her voice was weak, more a loud whisper than a scream. So she tried again. ¡®Hey! You! Let me out, I beg you!¡¯ The man turned his head, giving her a quick look, then began to climb the ladder. ¡®No! Come back! I beg you!¡¯ she screamed in vain. Krissintha didn¡¯t want to die, she knew it now. But the water was rising, or maybe the ship was going down, and it looked like she¡¯d drown soon if she couldn¡¯t get out of the hold. She didn¡¯t know if up on deck would be any better, but she knew there would at least be air to breath. She took a breath as deep as she could, and she was about to shout again, but a deafening crunch cut her short. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A thick and heavy pole, the main mast, came crashing into the hold. It tore through the deck, the hatch, the ladder and the man climbing it. Salty water and pieces of broken wood showered Krissintha as she fell back and sank into the chest high water. She flailed and managed to grab one of the bars of her cell, pulling herself up, coughing, spitting and trying to blink seawater out of her eyes. She could barely see as she looked around. The ceiling was gone, and the rain was pattering against her face. But along with the ceiling, some of the bars of her cell were gone, too. This was it. She could escape the hold if she could make it to ¡­ the ladder. A flash of lightning in the darkness ¡ª for a moment she saw the crushed sailor, pieces of the broken ladder floating around him. And she saw the mast, hanging down into the hold, tangled ropes of the rigging twisting around it. And that was it. She could climb up using those tangled ropes. She half ran half swam, debris bashing against her shoulders and her head as the ship jerked and jumped on the furious waves. She reached the mast. Her clothes caught on metal fastenings and pulleys, tearing as she climbed and climbed, finally pulling herself up to the broken deck. The storm roared at her, slapping her with rain from above and seawater from below. Krissintha set foot on the deck, gripping the tangled ropes of the broken mast. She looked around with no any idea what she was looking for. A safe place? There was no safe place ¡ª there was no hiding from an angry sea. Krissintha saw the expressions on the sailors¡¯ faces when the black clouds tossed bolts of lightning down. The sailors huddled at the railings, at the broken base of the mast, holding onto whatever they could. They didn¡¯t move, there was nothing they could do, and it seemed they had surrendered the ship and themselves to the dubious mercy of the storm. She saw the captain of the ship, standing at the stern, gripping onto the helm with all he had, his mouth open, yelling something she couldn¡¯t hear over the thundering of the sky and sea. Jevan was there, too, holding onto the railing at the steps going up to platform with the helm. Behind him the cuirass-wearing man was doing the same, gripping the railing with one hand and his spear with the other. Krissintha¡¯s scream was lost in the gale ¡ª she cursed the sea and the storm and at the same time she begged them to fling the retainer overboard and drag him down to the bottom, or even deeper. Then the ship shook, and Krissintha felt it rising up, creaking and groaning so loud even the storm couldn¡¯t hide the sounds. ¡®Kraken!¡¯ one of the sailors screamed. Krissintha looked at the sailor, and the wide-eyed terror on the man''s face shook her to her core. Kraken? She¡¯d heard of these sea-monsters. A kraken. She turned her head to where all the sailors were now looking. A giant shadow moved in the darkness of the storm, zig-zag lightning strikes revealing momentary outlines. It was close, getting closer, dark tendrils pulling on the ship, dragging it. A sailor jumped off the deck. Krissintha gasped in horror. Was that preferable to a kraken? Giant tentacles rose up from below, taking splintered beams and sailors with it. Then another of the dark, coiling arms of the sea-monster crashed down between where Krissintha was and the stern of the ship. She pressed her eyes shut, curling up as much as she could, still hugging the loosening ropes of the broken mast. The Dalar¡¯s Heart shook as it broke in half. The storm grabbed a piece of canvas, a remnant of the sails, lifting it up. She screamed as she was pulled up into the air, hanging on the rope attached to the canvas. She saw the ship from above now, she saw the kraken, landing another tentacle on it, smashing it, wooden parts flying everywhere. Krissintha crashed into the waves. It hurt. Salty water filled her nose and mouth. She flailed helplessly until her hand touched something hard. She grabbed onto it, and her head was above water again. The waves were throwing her around, splashing over her, but she could breathe, she wasn¡¯t dead yet. Lightning lit up the sky for a moment. The shadows, the outlines, the ship and the monster were in the distance now. No more cracking of wood, no more screaming of sailors, only the howling of the storm and the roaring of the waves. All she could do was to hold on to the broken piece of the mast, and she held on to it with all she had. *** The rain stopped. The winds were calming, letting the waves become smaller and gentler. Lightning and thunder no longer filled the darkness. Krissintha didn¡¯t know how much time had passed. All she knew was that she had to hold onto the wooden beam no matter how much it hurt or how tired she was. She was shivering in the cold water, her mouth filled with the taste of salt. She was drifting, freezing, trying to resist the sleep that was sure to take her to her death, should she give in to it. After long, painful hours, the sun came up behind the clouds, bringing an end to the night, and finally to the storm. The grey sky looked down on Krissintha with a new calm, promising a slow, less dramatic death than the storm or the kraken. Krissintha shivered ¡ª was there anything in this world that wasn¡¯t trying to kill her? She felt too weak and too tired to scream or curse, and it wouldn¡¯t have made a difference even if she could. She wondered for how long she''d have the strength to hold on to this piece of wood. She wondered if she¡¯d just die on her own, or some sea creatures would eat her first. She wondered what that spot of dark color in the distance was. Krissintha strained her eyes as much as she was able, trying to make out that vague shape in the distance. Land. It was land. It must have been land. She hoped it was land. And even if it wasn¡¯t, that slightly darker splodge of shape and color in the distance was the only thing she could see in the vast greyness of the sea. She was tired, aching and almost ready to give up, but hope was a strange thing. Krissintha never knew hope could infuse her arms and her legs with new strength. She gripped the small piece of broken wood harder than before and she kicked and kicked, slowly pushing herself forward. She would reach that place, even if it was the last things she did. *** Krissintha yelped. Her legs cramped a lot sooner than she though they would. But she was getting closer and she felt her hope growing. It was land. It was definitely land ¡ª she could see dark cliffs in the distance. She rested, stretching her legs under the water, then she started kicking again. It took hours ¡ª although to Krissintha it felt like days ¡ª but she reached the first of the rocks jutting out of the water. The shore wasn¡¯t far now, maybe another hour of swimming, but she was tired, her muscles burning and freezing at the same time. She needed to rest. Not letting her wooden plank go, she pulled herself onto the cold, slanting surface of the rock. Being out of the water finally, she lay on her back, panting and still cuddling the plank, murmuring thanks to no-one in particular that she was alive. Then she screamed at the sky until she couldn''t. Chapter Seventeen Chapter Seventeen Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain swam, holding onto the plank, until she finally felt ground under her bare feet and could stand with her head just above the water. Soon she was stumbling on the rocky, pebbly shore, leaving the sea behind. The clouds were breaking up, exposing blue sky, and she lay down on the beach, letting the weak but warm sunshine wash over her shivering body. Land, finally, land. And she was alive. Soaking wet, cold, but alive. The sea had failed to take her ¡ª it had even sent a kraken, but it failed to take her. She laughed and cried, tears rolling down her face, staring at the sky. She closed her eyes and found that opening them again was difficult. She tried to lift an arm, but it wasn¡¯t any easier. She began to feel pain in every part of her body, pain that the coldness of the sea was no longer masking. She was spent. Sleep was calling, and she nearly answered, but ¡­ she heard voices. She groaned as she opened her eyes and groaned some more as she sat up. She looked where the voices were coming from, squinting. Sharp, barren cliffs in the distance at the end of a long, rocky beach, and ¡­ something moving and yelling. ¡®Jevan,¡¯ she whispered-yelped, recognising the figure stumbling towards her in a distance of four or five dozen paces. She mumbled a curse at the sea for letting that man live. She scrambled to her feet, whimpering, trying to ignore the pain in her limbs. She glanced over her shoulder as she started running. The man was running, too, not too fast, but probably faster than her. And that bearded man with the cuirass was right behind him, trudging after the retainer, his spear somehow not lost at sea. Krissintha saw the beach ending and some sort of a forest beginning, so she ran that way. The small rocks hurt her bare feet, but she ran as fast as she could manage. ¡®Krissintha! Stop there!¡¯ Jevan shouted at her, his voice distant enough for her to know the man wasn¡¯t catching up yet, but too close to be sure of her escape. ¡®Go away! Die! Rot!¡¯ Krissintha screamed back without turning her head for another look. She kept her eyes on the trees, willing her aching legs to move faster. She had a good idea what she could expect from the retainer ¡ª the man had made his hatred of her clear as day, along with his desire to defile her, break her and send her off to join the rest of her family. She didn¡¯t know if any of the other sailors from the ship had survived or not, but she knew that the only thing that had protected her from becoming Jevan¡¯s short-lived plaything ¡ª being merchandise to be sold to the Voysair ¡ª was gone. Jevan would show no mercy. She ran past the first tree, brushing low hanging branches aside, and she was in the forest. Her feet sunk into the wet soil with every step, skidding on shrubs or stumbling on protruding roots. But she ran deeper and deeper into the forest, and it was getting thicker and darker. Jevan¡¯s voice was following her, so was the voice of the bearded man. Why were they still alive? Jevan with his weapons on his belt, and the man with his steel cuirass, should have been the first ones to reach the bottom of the sea. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder again, but only saw trees and undergrowth behind her. She had no idea where she was running, no idea if she could even get away from the traitorous retainer. How long could she keep running? Not for long, not with her starved, aching body already begging her to stop and rest. Krissintha passed tree after tree. She had lost all sense of time ¡ª she had no idea how long she had been running. She slowed to a laboured jog, then to a crawl, her body trying to tap into reserves of strength that just weren¡¯t there. She stopped, putting her hands on one of the thick trees, leaning against it, panting, coughing. She felt like she¡¯d collapse if she let the tree go. Then she heard muffled voices coming from behind and she forced herself to keep going. One tree. Another tree and another, each looking like the last. She heard the babbling sound of water. There must have been a river or a stream nearby. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself towards it, finding it more and more difficult to ignore the pain in her legs and feet, but she could hear the trickling of stream louder and clearer. Krissintha went around a tree and stopped as soon as she saw a pair of eyes looking right at her. For a moment she couldn¡¯t comprehend what she saw. But the moment passed, and her chest tightened, several knots forming in her stomach with haste. Only a few paces from her a mass of midnight-black darkness stood on four legs, two small pieces of glowing ember-like eyes glowering at her. Words from stories she¡¯d heard as a child invaded her mind in an instant: hell-hounds. Hunting dogs of the underworld. Servants of the dark and evil spirits of hell. She wanted to scream, but the air got stuck in her lungs. She wanted to run, but her legs didn¡¯t obey. So she just stared at the evil beast with widened eyes, trembling, waiting for it to lunge at her and drag her soul down to an old and mythical underworld she had never been sure existed. Not until this moment. Now she was sure. The dark abomination, the hell-hound, sat down, tilting its head and wagging its tail. Krissintha just stared at the evil thing, her eyes wide, her heart beating at an insane speed. Then she heard Jevan¡¯s voice again. She glanced over her shoulder, but only saw trees. The hell-hound was just looking at her as if it was curious. Krissintha took a step away. The hell-hound didn¡¯t move an inch. She took another step and another, going around a tree. The beast didn¡¯t do anything. That settled it: maybe it wasn¡¯t here to drag her to hell, but Jevan would do just that. With a new strength she didn¡¯t know she had, she ran. *** Trees became sparser, large rocks taking their place, jutting out of the ground. Krissintha kept going between them, towards the sound of rushing water. She finally arrived at the shallow stream. She dropped down immediately, scooping the fresh water with her hands, drinking, splashing it on her face, washing away the horrid, salty remnants of her misfortune at sea. She should have felt refreshed, but she felt more tired and sleepy than ever. She knew she wouldn¡¯t be able to run again even if her life depended on it. Which it did. Krissintha looked around, appraising the weird looking outcroppings scattered among the few trees here. Hiding was the only option she had left, and here she could hide. She trudged along the stream, groaning and shivering, looking for a hollow tree-trunk, or a rock she could crawl under and disappear. And she found one. The rock was large and it had hole at its base, almost like the entrance of a small cave. Something had dug the earth out from underneath the rock, too, and it seemed large enough for her to fit in there. It was the best spot she could find. She crawled in, then pulled as much of the soil and dirt as she could to cover the entrance. She then curled up, staring out into the sunlit forest, listening to the splashing of the nearby stream. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Krissintha had expected sleep to come immediately, but it didn¡¯t. Instead, she was sobbing quietly as thoughts she didn¡¯t want to have kept swirling in her mind. Everything that had happened: her family, her country, Jevan¡¯s hatred and betrayal, the kraken¡¯s tentacles, the uncertain fate she faced and feared. She didn¡¯t deserve this, did she? Her life had been good, she had wanted for nothing. She had not done anything wrong or evil. Why was she here then? Why was this all happening? Why was a hell-hound lurking here, waiting to take her soul? Ah. She could have been nicer to others. She could have been more forgiving, more understanding of those below her: her servants, her suitors, the people seeking her favour, or those trying to get closer to her father through her; she could have treated them with less contempt and more ¡­ compassion. She could have treated her father¡¯s retainers better, less like simple servants. But were these really transgressions? If so, were they so serious as to warrant all this? To be wiped out? For Jevan, then a kraken of all things, to try to kill her? And for a hell-hound to try to drag her soul to the underworld, to hell, so that evil spirits could torment her? It was unfair, she was sure of it. It was too much. She didn¡¯t deserve this. She fell asleep. *** Krissintha woke up to a loud crunching sound, coming from almost next to her. She opened her eyes and shut them again immediately. The hell-hound was here, right outside the little alcove she had thought safe, waiting for her, lying on the ground, gnawing on a bone. This was it. The end. ¡®Please, don¡¯t do this to me,¡¯ she whimpered the words. ¡®This is unfair.¡¯ She heard a growl, then another crunch. She opened her eyes again. The bone in the beast¡¯s jaws was broken now, one of the halves dropping to the ground. The hell-hound, still lying on its belly, was looking at her with those hellish, red eyes. Krissintha blinked a few times, unable to believe that she was so close to it and nothing was happening. So close. She could reach out and touch this servant of the dark spirits, but she dismissed the thought as fast as it came. Krissintha fidgeted, more than just nervous, not taking her eyes off the hound. Her legs were numb, but the alcove was too small to stretch them out. She felt nature calling and she fidgeted even more, holding it in, not wanting to relieve herself there and then: doing something so unladylike was one thing, but with a creature of hell watching her, she was sure she¡¯d become the laughingstock of the underworld. The hell-hound seemed to notice her predicament, somehow: it stood and backed away from the rock, giving her the room to come out. She never would have imagined that a creature of hell could be so accommodating. But ¡­ should she actually get out of her hole? Was it safe? Wasn¡¯t the hound going to pounce on her the moment she was out? She had no way of knowing. She took a deep breath. ¡®Uhm ¡­ so ¡­ I¡¯m coming out,¡¯ she said, her voice almost failing her. ¡®Please don¡¯t ¡­ take my soul yet!¡¯ The hound snorted once, sounding almost dismissive, as if to say ¡°fine, do what you want¡±. Krissintha collected all the little scraps of courage she had left and she crawled out of the hole. The hound remained on the ground, chewing on the bone, only following her with its eyes. She carefully went around the rock to relieve herself. Krissintha knew this was her best chance to get away from the evil beast, walking away slowly and quietly while it wasn¡¯t watching. But the way it was behaving bothered her, and she couldn¡¯t help but feel that the hell-hound wasn¡¯t here to tear her to pieces, or at least not yet. When she walked back, she found the hound standing, waiting for her. She stopped a couple of steps from it, looking down into its burning, red eyes, her heart beating faster out of a sudden. It looked up at her and took a step forward. Krissintha gasped as she saw a flash of dimly shimmering power coming and going around the hound as it moved. This ¡­ this really was a creature of hell, a servant of an evil spirit. And that flash of power meant that the evil spirit was ¡­ here, right here in front of her. This was not good, not good at all, and she regretted her decision to not flee while she had the chance. She had no doubt now: she was going to be dragged all the way to hell, whether she deserved it or not. Another glimpse of power in front of the hound signaled that it was happening ¡ª not later, not tomorrow, but now. Krissintha felt a cold touch on both her shoulders. The spirit? Could spirits do this, evil or not? Her legs gave out and buckled, and she fell onto her knees, sobbing. The hound stepped closer and sat in front of her, only a single pace between them. The pressure on her shoulders eased, then the touch left her completely. Krissintha caught another glimpse of power, vague and dim like a strange kind of dust reflecting sunlight for a second. Then her mouth hung open. A line appeared on the ground, in the soil, slowly growing. Then another line drew itself, then another. In a few moments, she was gawking at a simple, child-like drawing, depicting a man with long hair held together with a ribbon, sword hanging at his hip. ¡®Jevan,¡¯ Krissintha whispered. The hound snarled. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure what was happening or why. She nearly jumped up when a sword appeared out of nowhere, floating in the air between her and the hound. She¡¯d never seen or heard anything like this in her entire life. But she stayed on her knees, staring at the familiar weapon. It was ¡­ ¡®Jevan¡¯s sword,¡¯ she gasped. The hound snarled again, as if to confirm her words. The sword rotated around in the air, slowly, faint, silvery-blue power blinking around it for a second. It floated down, it¡¯s tip touching the ground. The sword then moved and crossed out the drawn image of the retainer. Then it disappeared from the air the same way it had come. Krissintha stared at the hound, into its red eyes, more in astonishment then fear now, comprehending but at the same time not comprehending at all. What in the name of all the holy shrines was happening here? Did this mean Jevan was ¡­ dead? She was more and more sure that hell wasn¡¯t just an old myth, but why was this evil spirit telling her that Jevan¡¯s soul was going to be there with her? The hell-hound let out a whining sound, almost like a yawn, then it lay down on its side. Krissintha felt the same, cold touch on one of her hands, and for a second she saw a another sliver of power in the air. She shivered as the evil spirit ¡ª she was sure it was an evil spirit ¡ª pulled her arm forward, towards the hound. She knew there was no point in resisting, so she didn¡¯t. Her hand touched the belly of the pitch dark beast, and the spirit¡¯s touch guided her hand to ¡­ rub it? The hound let out some sort of happy noise, not unlike the ones she had heard from her father¡¯s hunting dogs. The hell-hound closed its burning, red eyes, lowering its head to the ground. Krissintha stared at her own hand in utter disbelief as it moved, feeling the dark, but soft and fluffy fur of the creature. After a short while she felt the touch of the evil spirit leaving her hand, but she didn¡¯t dare stop rubbing the belly of the hell-hound. Chapter Eighteen Chapter Eighteen I watched the girl as she was rubbing Akela¡¯s belly. She seemed to have calmed down: her tears had stopped flowing and she wasn¡¯t trembling any more. I imagined the soft, fluffy sensation of Akela¡¯s fur was a contributing factor, maybe almost as much as showing her Jevan¡¯s sword. Not-prey good belly-rub. Akela hummed approvingly. I had been a teeny-tiny bit worried about how Akela would react to the human, but I shouldn¡¯t have been: Akela, the lazy, belly-rub-loving bastard, seemed to prefer earthly pleasures over his predatory instincts. It was probably my fault. In any case, my plan was working so far, and it was time to try to get some information out of the girl. Using my Mana-Gloved tentie, I drew an island on the ground ¡ª a lump with a few stylized trees on it, surrounded by wavy lines representing the sea, and then a stick figure girl and a fluffy dog-like creature representing us. Then I started tapping my tentie over the drawing, leaving little holes in the ground above the head of the stick-girl, hoping she¡¯d understand the question. The girl stared at my drawing, then at Akela, who didn¡¯t bother lifting his head. She seemed to be in thought for a minute, not stopping the belly-rubs. Then she turned her head to look at my primitive drawing on the ground. She picked up one of the small sticks lying around and began to draw. A small ship appeared on one of the wavy lines around the cartoon-island. A stick-figure girl and a stick-figure Jevan appeared on the ship, then a few more figures ¡ª I assumed those were sailors or something. Then she drew clouds and then a zig-zag line, going from the clouds to the ship. That made sense: stick-girl was on a ship that got caught in a storm. But she kept drawing. Something that looked suspiciously like tentacles emerged from the wavy lines, reaching out to crush the ship. Huh. Sea monster. Maybe a kraken? Or some other distant cousin of mine? She then made a dotted line, connecting the broken ship to the island. She was good at this, wasn¡¯t she, and I got the general picture. Shipwreck. Of course it was a shipwreck ¡ª how else could they have ended up on my island? I should have figured it out the moment I had first seen them. Oh well. I drew my next question. I erased the shipwreck story from the ground, then I drew stick-Jevan and stick-girl, standing next to each other. Once that was done, I kept tapping my tentie over both of them. The girl shivered and stopped rubbing Akela¡¯s belly. My buddy lifted his head, looking at the girl angrily, letting out a small growl. She gasped, immediately resuming the belly-rubs. Akela put his head down again, enjoying the royal treatment. Oh, the lazy sod. The girl drew a box around stick-girl, then a few vertical lines. It was a cage. Stick-girl was in a cage. Then she drew another figure next to stick-Jevan, then a few circles with some foreign looking symbols appeared between the two of them. Hm. Coins? Money? Then she erased the scene and drew a broken cage, then a running stick-girl being chased by stick-Jevan, sword in hand. I understood. And I wasn¡¯t surprised. I was dealing with humans, wasn¡¯t I? For a moment I was re-considering my position on whether I should insist on viewing myself as one. But that moment passed, and I reconciled with the fact that being human came with a number of inherent issues, stemming from the sometimes not-so-hidden darkness of human souls. One such issue was slavery. Then again, what did I expect? Good old Earth had slaves, probably from the moment humans first appeared, all the way to the present day. It was a human thing, unfortunately, and every culture, every race of people all over the globe had their hands in slavery at multiple points in history. And since this new world Wensah had dumped me in had humans, I wasn¡¯t all that surprised by this girl drawing me the story of a slave escaping a slaver. She finished her drawing, looking at Akela ¡ª and at me, indirectly ¡ª tears welling up in her eyes again. I sighed inwardly. Grimy as she was, I could tell she was a pretty girl ¡ª given a long bath and some proper nourishment, she¡¯d be very attractive. If that swordsman, Jevan, had managed to sell her, I doubted she¡¯d have been used as a gladiator in an arena like some local Spartacus. I didn¡¯t know how the girl felt about being stranded on my island, but I figured she was better off here. Then I heard a growl. It came from the girl, or more specifically, her stomach. I wanted to sigh ¡ª another hungry mouth to feed. And as if they had secretly conspired, Akela¡¯s stomach grumbled, even louder than the girl¡¯s. That settled it. ¡®Akela, we¡¯re going hunting,¡¯ I said to the lazy mutt. *** ¡®Alright, buddy, you can have one leg,¡¯ I told Akela, putting the rest of the freshly killed unigoat carcass into Jack¡¯s Room. Prey ¡­ for not-prey? ¡®Oh, so you do understand, huh? Not-prey ... good belly-rub. ''Yeah, she deserves the food, doesn¡¯t she?¡¯ I said. ¡®Should we keep her?¡¯ Good belly-rub. ¡®I¡¯ll take it as a yes.¡¯ I said, thinking about how to prepare something the girl could actually eat. I couldn¡¯t feed her raw meat, but I had no way to cook it for her. I regretted not looking into the plant life on this island. I was sure there were lots of edible things around, but until now I had no need for them. I had no choice but to do something with the unigoat meat. I could cut a few thin slices, and if I could find or produce some sort of bowl, or container, then I could brine the meat in seawater. Then there was the question of fire. I had to figure out how to start a fire, then I could present her with simple, slightly salty, roast slices of unigoat. I waited for Akela to eat his fill. I was a little worried leaving the girl alone for too long. I had tried to instruct her with a few, ambiguous drawings to stay and wait for us, but I wasn¡¯t sure if she had understood my instructions. I hoped the girl had some patience. If she didn¡¯t, well, Akela could find her, even if she wandered off somewhere. We had the meat. I figured that if the girl, Jevan and that spear wielding guy had ended up here, perhaps parts of their ship ¡ª debris, wood, cargo ¡ª might also lay scattered on the beach. Perhaps we could find something useful. Once Akela finished his meal, we headed to the western beach. *** I¡¯d been right: the beach was littered with broken ship parts, crates, barrels and such, even torn ropes and pieces of what I assumed had been the sails of the unfortunate ship. We didn¡¯t find any people ¡ª the survivors had probably gone to explore the place, trying to figure out where they were. They¡¯d realise soon that this was an island. What they¡¯d do then, I had no idea. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I picked up anything I thought could be useful. I even found a broken jar, probably clay or something, and I filled it with seawater before storing it. Akela didn¡¯t like the sea or the beach at all, so we didn¡¯t linger to wait for the sailors to return. On the way back, I collected as many dry twigs, leaves and moss as I could, and soon, for the first time since its creation, Jack¡¯s Room was full. My metaphorical heart warmed as I thought of my time with the little critter. *** The girl stared wide eyed as I unloaded all the things I had collected. Crates and barrels, broken pieces of wood, torn ropes and canvas, firewood, and of course a unigoat leg. Akela growled a little as I told him to leave the meat alone ¡ª despite his earlier approval, he didn¡¯t seem happy to share food with the human. The girl¡¯s jaw dropped as I willed Mana to form a sharp edge over my tentie and I began skinning the unigoat leg, cutting off nice, thin slices, putting them into the jar of seawater. I drew a few pictures on the ground, letting her know what I was planning. She scowled at the image of the campfire for a few moments, then she drew smoke rising from it, then a man with a spear, coming to investigate. This girl was clever; I hadn¡¯t even thought of that. But then again, I was sure I could handle it if the other survivors of the shipwreck came along, and I drew Akela, barking and chasing the man away. The girl shrugged, then looked at the setting sun. Evening was coming, it was getting cold, and I was sure she¡¯d appreciate the warmth of a campfire. I drew another instruction to her: stick-girl stretching and hanging canvas pieces on rocks so they could dry. She nodded, and we both got to work. Akela settled down, chewing on a bit of sinewy meat, and I gathered the driest pieces of the wood I had collected. Oh, how I wished I had a lighter or matches. The one time I¡¯d done camping in my life, we had a portable cooker with a propane gas canister, so the idea of rubbing sticks together to kindle a fire was ¡­ well, a scary one. But at least I had more than just hands to do it with, so I dug a small firepit, prepared the tree-bark, the stick and some dry moss and leaves, and I got to it. And I failed. No matter how much I rubbed the stick against the dry piece of tree-bark ¡ª at a fairly high MP cost to have three of my tenties wearing Mana-Gloves ¡ª nothing happened. Then the stick broke between my tenties. I just wasn¡¯t cut out for living in the wild, was I? Not as a human at least. Voice. Stupid. Akela scoffed. ¡®Oh, shut up you!¡¯ I gnarled at him. ¡®You don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m doing.¡¯ Hmph! The girl was looking at the broken twig floating in the air before her, having finished hanging out the remnants of the sail to dry, and gave Akela ¡ª or me ¡ª a sympathetic look. I racked my brain, forcing myself to stop thinking as a human and start thinking as a magical spirit creature. Surely there was a way to start a fire with Mana instead of the mundane, human way. The dry wood was there, all I needed was heat, or enough friction to create heat. The sun was behind the forest now, the last of the daylight disappearing quickly, so I didn¡¯t have a lot of time left to set up that damned campfire and make dinner. So Mana it was. I expelled half an MP¡¯s worth of Mana to the tip of my tentie. I pressed it against the flat piece of bark, and I ordered the Mana to start swirling. It obeyed and promptly drilled a hole into the bark. I groaned in my soul, wanting to sigh, or scream, but I calmed myself, ready to try again. I pressed the tip of my tentie to another spot on the bark, replenishing lost MP, and this time I envisioned Mana swirling like a tiny vortex or whirlwind, touching the wood just enough to create that friction I needed, and without drilling through it. It worked, kind of. Mana moved, and after a while I could even see a little smoke rising up, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Maybe the Mana-Vortex wasn¡¯t swirling fast enough, so I made it go faster. Mana obeyed as usual, and in less than a minute, a small flame flickered into existence. I wasted no time admiring my tentacle-work and I grabbed a little bit of the dry moss, sprinkling it over the small fire. The moss ignited, I added some dry leaves, then more moss, then a few twigs, and voila, I held a nicely burning tray in my Mana-coated tenties, made of tree-bark and twigs. I gently placed into the firepit, adding a few more broken up branches. The girl clapped her hands and moved closer to us. Akela pulled himself up, staring at the orange flames warily. Voice? Bad. ¡®Ah, come on, you¡¯re not scared, are you?¡¯ I laughed. Warm. Bad. He backed away from the fire, grumbling, accusing me of stupidity, then settled down a few paces away from the pit. Luckily, everything I needed was in tentacle range, and I pulled the jar of seawater closer. I picked up a long, straight stick I¡¯d previously sharpened, lifted the soaked meat out of the jar, skewering them onto the stick. The girl stared at it, her mouth watering, belly grumbling. I handed the skewer to her ¡ª or from her perspective, floated it over to her ¡ª then put some larger pieces of wood on the fire. The wood wasn¡¯t completely dry, and the girl was squinting hard, tearing up due to all the smoke, but she sat down by the fire and began roasting her dinner. I watched her turning it over and over, her eyes sparkling, the thin unigoat slices quickly turning from red to dark brown. Stars appeared in the sky, the moon climbing to join them, and the girl ate. I wished I could have eaten with her. I wondered what unigoat tasted like: was it like goat meat? Or more like beef? My money was on beef. Seawater brine ¡ª while better than nothing ¡ª wasn¡¯t the greatest and tastiest solution, and I wondered what seasoning would be the best for this meat. Perhaps a soy sauce and vinegar marinade with a bit of garlic? Maybe even a little bit of beer. Well, I¡¯d never know, so I simply took pleasure in watching the girl wolfing it down. She was smiling and nearly crying. I felt something. Something I¡¯d not felt for a long time. Cooking. I missed cooking. *** The girl slept lying on the hard ground only a step from the firepit, wrapped in dry pieces of canvas. Akela lay sprawled out, having given up on his aversion to the ¡°Bad Warm¡±, mostly as a result of my powers of persuasion ¡ª I¡¯d basically told him to suck it up and act like a proper wolf. I kept the fire from dying, putting some wood on it every half an hour throughout the night, while thinking about what to do about the girl, about the other survivors of the shipwreck, and about a fairly important question that had lodged itself into my mind. I was trying to decide whether I wanted to leave my island or not. There were people in this world. Humans. For the past two years ¡ª even two and a half, I wasn¡¯t really counting any more ¡ª I got used to living here. It was boring sometimes, but the lack of stress, the lack of drama, the lack of literally any issues that you simply couldn¡¯t avoid in human society ... it had its allure. I couldn¡¯t lie to myself: I was having a simple but fairly good life here as a spirit. But most importantly, it was safe. The animals didn¡¯t care that I was a Spiritual Tentacle Horror; they didn¡¯t give a damn about me being some unholy devourer of souls. But out there, in the great wide world, I¡¯d be a target, of this I was sure. Still, I felt a sudden need, an urge, a desire to leave the island, to explore, to meet creatures who had the same kind of soul I had. I supposed it was a part of human nature to seek adventure, to experience new things and to build relationships with other people, and despite everything, I still considered myself ¡­ people. I put another piece of wood on the fire and I watched the sun rising over the forest. I had time to make up my mind, didn¡¯t I? I watched the girl, stirring under the canvas sheets, but not waking yet. I was sure she¡¯d want to get off my island and go home, wherever that was. Ideas came and went in my mind, and after some time I kind of sort of knew what I wanted to do and how, and I had time to work out the details. Akela woke with a start, suddenly alert, his ears flicking left and right, staring at the trees beyond one of the rocks and sniffing the air. ¡®What is it?¡¯ I asked. Prey. Not-Prey. Prey? ¡®Shit. Already?¡¯ Chapter Nineteen Chapter Nineteen Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain woke up to a cold touch on her back. Her eyes sprung open to find the hell-hound staring at her, panting, its tongue hanging out of its tooth-filled mouth. So close, and for a moment Krissintha held her breath, laying on the ground under the warmth of the canvas sheets she¡¯d wrapped herself in, waiting to see if this was going to be her last moment. But ¡­ she had been given food, she had slept and she woke up alive. She knew this meant ¡ª or must have meant ¡ª that the hell-hound and its master, the evil spirit, weren¡¯t going to devour her and take her soul to hell. They would have done it already if they¡¯d wanted to. But the pitch dark, red-eyed beast was terrifying, the unseen entity and the occasional flashes of pale blue power even more so. She moved her head, flicking her eyes up and down to see what was going on, why the spirit had decided to wake her. The sun was coming up, and she wondered if it was time for an evil-spirit-breakfast already. Was that why the spirit had woken her? Then she felt again that cold touch on her back, tapping rhythmically. She wasn¡¯t sure, but she sensed some sort of urgency in those taps. Then she heard the rustling of shrubs and branches, not too far from the makeshift camp. Wild animals? Or the sailors from the Dalar¡¯s Heart? Was the the spirit warning her of danger? Krissintha clambered to her feet, untangling herself from the canvas sheets, brushing her tattered, blue dress down. ¡®Told ya to keep followin¡¯ the smoke, din¡¯t I?¡¯ the voice of a man came to her. Krissintha turned to look in that direction just as three men appeared between the weirdly shaped rocks and trees. ¡®There she is. Ain¡¯t that somethin¡¯?¡¯ the bearded man with the cuirass said. The man was supporting himself with his spear, one of his legs bandaged with dirty canvas. The other two were sailors: one of them bald, wearing simple trousers and a shirt, holding a dagger in one hand. The other was a young man with short hair and a stubble, holding a long, almost straight sharpened stick as if it was a spear. The men looked around, eying the fire, the few crates and barrels from the ship, Krissintha herself, their gazes finally settling on the dark, growling creature standing next to her. ¡®Boss, is ¡­ is that a ¡­ hell-hound? From ¡®em stories.¡¯ the younger sailor asked, his voice shaky. ¡®Dunno,¡¯ the bearded man said. ¡®Some kinda wolf.¡¯ ''Boss, maybe we should ¡­¡¯ the older, bald man started to say, but the bearded man lifted his arm to hush him. He looked straight into Krissintha¡¯s eyes. ¡®We found your retainer,¡¯ he said, glancing at the hell-hound, then back at Krissintha. ¡®Beast will go killin¡¯ us all, you included. It¡¯s servin¡¯ an evil spirit.¡¯ Krissintha took a deep breath, the leftover spleepyness leaving her in a hurry. It took all her willpower to keep herself from trembling and to keep her face expressionless. This was bad. Three men. Armed. Coming to take her, to take away this small measure of freedom she¡¯d just found. And what did she have? Oh yes. An evil spirit. And ... the men seemed wary of it, not taking another step, but would that be enough to keep her safe? Would they attack the hell-hound, and then her? ¡®Step away from the beast, missy!¡¯ the bearded man ordered her, and at the same time signaled to the others to spread out. The two sailors took a few uncertain steps to either sides of their boss, looking like they wanted to be anywhere but here. Krissintha made insane effort to slow her breathing and hide her trembling hands. ¡®You¡¯ll be comin¡¯ with us, and we¡¯ll be protectin¡¯ you,¡¯ the bearded man said, his gaze boring into her, cruel and demanding. ¡®Who knows what else is lurkin¡¯ on this island. Because this is an island, missy, did you know? There¡¯s no runnin¡¯ away here. So ¡­ what do you say?¡¯ Krissintha forgot to let out the breath she¡¯d taken. She had no idea what to do. Facing and dealing with rough men like these was her father¡¯s area of expertise, not hers. Her father had always known how to deal with the people before him, how to intimidate, how to strike fear into them, how to bend them to their will. She¡¯d heard people call him a cruel man, a tyrant, but she knew her father well, and she knew that if there was anything she could trust, it was the things she¡¯d learned from watching him. Intimidation. She let out the breath she¡¯d been holding, and glanced at the hell-hound. The evil spirit. There was nothing more intimidating in the world than that, and it just so happened that one was right beside her. She wasn¡¯t sure what the spirit would or could do. But it was clever, intelligent: it could draw, it could make food, it had even managed to kill Jevan, a spiritualist, and it had even taken his sword. That was it! Jevan¡¯s sword. Krissintha bent down to stroke the growling hell-hound¡¯s head and whispered, ¡®Please understand me! Give me Jevan¡¯s sword!¡¯ She then straightened herself, putting as hard an expression on her face as she could manage. She had to be like her father: she had to look strong, unrelenting, cruel. She stretched her arm towards the hell-hound, hoping to all the gods and their holy shrines that the spirit had understood her. Jevan¡¯s sword appeared out of nowhere, hovering in the air, a momentary shimmer of dim, blue power enveloping it. The men facing her flinched, and Krissintha almost gasped with relief. She grabbed the sword by its hilt, feeling its weight as the spirit let go of it. She held it up and made a show of looking over the blade. She then turned the weapon around and slammed it into ground in front of her, the tip of the blade going deep into the soil. ¡®I am Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain, heir to the Barony of Sythala, loyal servant of the murdered king of Thyssa,¡¯ she said, making sure her voice was measured and carried just enough of her anger for the men to know she meant what she said. The two sailors looked at each other nervously, but the bearded man kept his eyes on her, lifting his spear a little. Krissintha continued, using everything she had learned from her father. ¡®You have seen me at my lowest. In my moments of weakness. For that alone I should execute you, just as I had my retainer, a traitor, executed. From now on you will only see strength and cruelty, this I promise.¡¯ The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The sailors seemed like they wanted to make a run for it, the cuirass wearing man the only thing keeping them there. The man scowled, steadying himself despite his injured leg, lifting his spear even more, but not leveling it yet. ¡®It was the evil spirit killin¡¯ that man,¡¯ the boss said, his eyes flicking between the hell-hound and the sword stuck into the ground. ¡®You think you can go controllin¡¯ somethin¡¯ like that?¡¯ Krissintha smiled at the man, then placed her hand on the hell-hound¡¯s head, hoping neither the beast nor the spirit would take offense. She swallowed her nervousness and looked the man straight in the eyes. The pact is complete,¡¯ she lied with a soft voice, smiling as if she had nothing to worry about. ¡®And you are right. This is an island. There is no running away here.¡¯ ¡®Listen, Silas, we should ¡­¡¯ one of the sailors began to say, begging, almost wailing, but the large man shushed him. ¡®You should listen to your man ¡­¡¯ Krissintha said ¡®¡­ while I¡¯m still willing to give you a chance.¡¯ ¡®Chance, eh?¡¯ Silas growled, showing his teeth. ¡®I¡¯m the one givin¡¯ you a chance ¡®ere, girl! Don¡¯t you go squanderin¡¯ it!¡¯ ¡®Silas! She¡¯s got a spirit ¡­¡¯ the bald man cried out, stepping back towards Silas ¡®¡­ din¡¯t you see the sword? The power?¡¯ ¡®Wench ain¡¯t no spiritualist,¡¯ Silas barked at the sailor, and this time he took a step forward, leveling his spear ¡®¡­ and that fukken¡¯ beast needs killin¡¯.¡¯ Krissintha used all her strength to keep herself from gulping. This wasn¡¯t working. That damned man, Silas, was way too stubborn. She was suddenly overcome with an urge to turn and run, but she knew if she did that, it would be the end of her: her facade of strength and cruelty would crumble, and they¡¯d hunt her down and kill her, or worse. Probably worse. Krissintha didn¡¯t know much about spirits, if anything at all. The evil-spirit was playing along for now, but she wasn¡¯t sure if it understood what was going on, or if it really was taking her side or not. She glanced down at the midnight black hound. It looked up at her, its red eyes glistening like fresh blood in the morning sunlight. She smiled at the hound. ¡®Please help!¡¯ she whispered, and she couldn¡¯t stop the moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. ¡®I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re the king of hell itself.¡¯ The hell-hound took a step forward, and a sigh of relief was already forming inside Krissintha. Then the hound sat down. Krissintha¡¯s relief turned into terror-filled panic in an instant. Get ¡®em!¡¯ Silas screamed, lunging forward, his spear aimed at the hound. The two sailors only took a tentative step forward. Krissintha saw all this and she didn¡¯t move. There was no point. Instead, the smile returned to her face: how many people could say that their last meal had been prepared by an evil-spirit? Probably none. Except her. What a strange last thought. Silas jumped over the firepit. The two sailors took another slow, nervous step forward. Krissintha closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She might as well die standing. A small current of air stroked her face. She heard a metallic clang, then a thump, and at the same time felt a vibration under her bare feet, as if something heavy had been dropped on the ground in front of her. She opened her eyes. Jevan¡¯s sword was no longer in front of her. Silas was on the ground, sprawled out on his back, right over the firepit, the sword sticking out of his chest, piercing his cuirass. The man¡¯s legs twitched as the sword lifted out of the man¡¯s chest with a quick flash of power coming and going around it. Then the man stilled and didn¡¯t move any more, staring up at the sky with dead eyes open. The sword floated over to Krissintha. It had happened so fast that her mind had no time to understand or make sense of the happenings. She reached out to grab the floating weapon without any conscious though, but the sword vanished just as her fingers touched the hilt. She lowered her arm, staring blankly at the space in front of her. Krissintha blinked once, blinked twice, breathed in and then out, and her mind finally caught up to the events. She was fine. Silas was dead. The spirit ¡­ the evil spirit had protected her. But this wasn¡¯t over. The two sailors stared at her, then at Silas¡¯ body, then at her again. No. This wasn¡¯t the time to be terrified or relived. The spirit had given her a chance, and it would be the biggest and perhaps the last mistake of her life if she wasted it. It was time to play the part, and she knew exactly what her father would have said in a situation such as this. She steeled herself, put the mask of cruel confidence back on and turned to the now trembling sailors. ¡®One down, two to go,¡¯ she said in a sing-song voice, bringing her smile back. ¡®So? What will it be? Will you fight? Or will you serve?¡¯ *** Krissintha sat on a small crate the spirit had brought to the camp the day before. She could hardly believe how desperately the two sailors were groveling before her. She¡¯d only seen people beg so hard a few times, and those had been people brought before her father to be executed. The hell-hound let out a low growl, and Krissintha stroked its head ¡ª another thing she wouldn¡¯t have believed if it wasn¡¯t actually happening to her. Petting a hell-hound? An evil spirit helping her? She had no idea what was going on here, but she knew better than to start questioning it. After so much misfortune, she took whatever was on offer, and she could worry about the fact that help had come from hell later. She turned to the trembling sailors in front of her. ¡®You made a wise choice,¡¯ she said. ¡®What are your names?¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ I¡¯m Quenta, my lady,¡¯ the bald sailor said, kneeling and keeping his eyes on the ground. ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ uh¡­ Tommi, my lady,¡¯ the younger, short haired man said, keeping his head even lower than his mate. ¡®Well, Quenta, Tommi, serve me well,¡¯ she said to them. ¡®I will keep you fed, keep you warm, and keep you safe.¡¯ ¡®Ye ¡­ yes ¡­ my lady,¡¯ the two of them said in unison. ¡®Now. Go collect some firewood,¡¯ she ordered them. The two men sprung to their feet, rushing away to the forest as if the hell-hound was chasing them. Krissintha stared at Silas¡¯ dead body, some smoke still rising from the extinguished fire underneath him. She turned back to watch the sailors disappear between the trees. Once they were out of sight, Krissintha breathed out long, her shoulders sagged, and she almost fell to the ground from her makeshift throne. She caught herself, and she buried her face into her palms, finally letting out the muffled scream and all the tears she¡¯d been holding back. ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ still alive,¡¯ she said, almost choking, looking at the hell-hound. ¡®Thank you for helping me. I don¡¯t know if you can understand my words, but thank you.¡¯ The hound didn¡¯t say anything of course. The spirit on the other hand, began to draw. Krissintha watched the simple images as they appeared on the ground, her eyes widening in disbelief. She turned back to look at the hound ¡ª she was sure the spirit was there, inside, or near it ¡ª and she said, ¡®You ¡­ want to build a raft?¡¯ Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty ¡®Akela, be ready for anything!¡¯ I said to the wolf as the spear wielding pirate began to talk. The two other guys ¡ª presumably sailors from the same ship ¡ª were just standing there on either sides of him, looking around nervously, squirming and shifting their weights from one leg to the other. The language was still alien to me, but the pirate didn¡¯t sound like he was offering peace. The girl paled and began to sweat despite the coolness of the morning. This didn¡¯t look good, and I had a feeling the man was not going to leave without another fight. I was just about to activate Mana-Armour for Akela, when the man stopped talking, and the girl lowered herself to one knee, starting to pet the wolf. What the hell? Now? In this situation? Then she whispered something. Something I understood, strangely enough. It was the name, Jevan, and that same word she¡¯d uttered when I¡¯d first showed her the sword I¡¯d looted from the slaver. Jevan. The sword. Jevan¡¯s sword. She wanted Jevan¡¯s sword! I brought it out of Jack¡¯s Room without thinking, holding it up to her with a Mana-Gloved tentacle coiled around it. It was only then that it hit me: was she ¡­ was she going to fight them? All three of them? It was too late. She took the sword. Oh, this was not going to end well, was it? I was trying to decide if I should tell Akela to rush the men so I could Mana-Blast them, or eat their souls or something, but the girl twirled the sword around in her hands, then slammed it into the ground tip down. Again, what the hell? Wasn¡¯t she planning to fight or something? Had she needed the sword only for some weird theatrics? But then she ¡­ changed. And I was impressed. The girl straightened herself, her posture, her face, her eyes hardening as if she¡¯d just became another person. She spoke. I didn¡¯t understand a word, but her voice was calm and angry at same time, almost forceful, like a queen giving orders to her subjects. I had to give it to her, she was a good actress, and for a short while it seemed her performance was producing the desired effect. The two sailors suddenly looked even more nervous, glancing at each other behind Spear-guy¡¯s back, saying something to him in a pleading tone. But Spear-guy wasn¡¯t as impressed as we all were: he talked back to the girl, lifting his spear a little. I wasn¡¯t an expert on the kind of stand-off we seemed to be having, but my money was on the man losing his patience and attacking soon. A brief, somewhat angry exchange between the pirate and the sailors made the pirate angrier. He lifted his spear, leveling it. Well, the girl¡¯s plan to talk her way out of this had been good, the execution had been impressive, but it ended in failure. I shouldn¡¯t have had my hopes up: pirates and slavers were unreasonable people after all. The girl knelt down again, whispering something to Akela ¡ª to me ¡ª then stood back up. I didn¡¯t understand her words, but I knew when someone was begging for help. It seemed it was my time to shine once again. I wanted to sigh. ¡®Akela, move a bit closer to those guys!¡¯ I asked the wolf, and he obliged. He lazily trod past the girl and he sat when I told him to stop. Then the pirate lunged at us, jumping over the firepit, leveling his spear, just as I¡¯d expected he would. The two other men hesitated, but I didn¡¯t. I could have just grabbed his soul, ripping it out of his body, but the sword was well within tentacle range, and I opted to use it. If anyone examined the corpse later ¡ª however little the chance of it was here ¡ª I thought it better if the cause of death was sword in the heart rather then an eaten soul. I coiled one of the little mana-coated buggers around the hilt, pulled it, and stabbed at the man¡¯s chest as his leap brought him to our side of the firepit with some sort of battle-cry. The sword pierced the man¡¯s armour as I knew it would. I¡¯d punched plenty of trees and rocks using all sorts of things I¡¯d picked up, and I¡¯d learned how much force I could and should put into a stab. The man¡¯s charge, along with his roaring, came to an abrupt halt. He stared at Akela wide-eyed, then he looked down at the blade sticking out of his chest. I had no qualms about ending the pirate''s life: I¡¯d given him a chance not that long ago, but he had come back for a second round. If I let him go again, he¡¯d probably be back tomorrow, possibly with even more of his friends The men fell back, thumping over the pit, smothering the fire, sparks and ash flying up. The two sailors stopped in their tracks, gawking at their dead comrade, fear twisting their faces. Even the girl behind me stared in astonishment, gasping. I hoped I hadn''t scared her too much. I stretched out two of my tenties: I could comfortably reach the dead man¡¯s legs, touching his teal coloured soul. Oh, why did humans have to have such tasty souls? Two seconds passed, and the girl was still just standing there, gawking at the dead body. Well, maybe I had scared her too much. I pulled the sword out of the dead pirate¡¯s chest as I continued nibbling on his soul, lifting the weapon up to the girl. Her attention snapped back to the present, and she was slowly lifting her hand to take it. The two sailors were watching her now, probably trying to decide what to do. They didn¡¯t seem like they had any willingness to follow in the footsteps of the pirate, but they weren¡¯t retreating either. I wished I¡¯d been able to yell ¡°just run you idiots¡± at them. Then it occurred to me that maybe one of my magic tricks would give them that kick in the butt they needed to make up their minds. The suddenly appearing sword seemed to have scared the sailors, perhaps a vanishing sword would do the same. I put the sword back into Jack¡¯s Room, just as the girl touched the hilt, hoping I wouldn¡¯t have to bring it back out again. Her face twitched as the blade disappeared into thin air right in front of her, but other than that she didn¡¯t show her surprise. If anything, she seemed to have resumed her queen persona from earlier. She was impressive. The two men on the other hand flinched. Hah! My plan worked. And I finished eating my pirate-soul breakfast, nice and tasty. The two sailors trembled, and I really thought they were about to run, but the girl spoke to them, her voice the perfect blend of sweet and foreboding you¡¯d expect from any evil queen-slash-stepmother from any Disney cartoon. Perhaps if she was ten, twenty years older, she could have got that role as a voice actor, or in a live action adaptation, considering what a good actress she turned out to be. Then, to my complete and utter shock, the two men fell onto their knees in front of the girl. *** After some quick comparisons and calculations, it turned out I got roughly two-hundred thousand EXP from the pirate-soul, almost the same amount as I¡¯d got from Jevan. I immediately re-visited my earlier idea of moving the decimal point, because even though I had a good mind for maths and large numbers, it was a pain. So, starting again, I got 200 EXP from the pirate-soul. To reach Level 24, I needed around 920 EXP. I was a long way from that: I¡¯d need to eat at least four more people to level up again, and ¡­ I¡¯d just scared myself, didn¡¯t I? Hm. Thinking about eating people so nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing ¡­ well ¡­ I decided not to think about it. Burying your head in the sand was usually a bad solution, but I had other things to worry about. Nonetheless it seemed there was no growth waiting for me in the foreseeable future. The girl sat on a box, looking regal and imposing despite her dirty, tattered dress, messy hair and grimy face. I didn¡¯t pay any attention to what she was saying to the two sailors groveling before her. She sent them away, maybe to do something, maybe for good, I didn¡¯t know. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. As soon as the men were out of sight, her queen persona vanished, and she broke down crying. I couldn¡¯t blame her: if this sort of thing had been happening to my old, fully human self, I would have done the same. ¡®Welcome to my Misery Island, nameless girl,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®Glad you made it.¡¯ Akela lifted his head from the girl¡¯s lap, probably thinking I was talking to him. He then growled at the girl, and she resumed petting his head. It seemed that my job of giving constant belly-rubs was in danger, and I was oddly happy about it, even though I liked doing it for the lazy mutt. But that was secondary. I had a much bigger plan in the works, and now that I had a human, its feasibility had increased to the point where it was worth giving it a shot. I waited for the girl to stop crying and to calm a little, then I began to draw my plans into the soil before her. *** I couldn¡¯t help but be impressed. In the course of a single morning, the girl had managed to turn the two sailors from her would-be-murderers into her minions. I didn¡¯t have a single objection for being used as both the stick and the carrot ¡ª it served my plans as well. I kept the fire alive, I served them roast meat twice a day ¡ª which I quite enjoyed doing, actually ¡ª and every once in a while I had Akela growl at the sailors angrily, just so they wouldn¡¯t get strange ideas, like turning on me or the girl. It worked, and Misery Island suddenly had a queen, an invisible enforcer-slash-cook, a lazy fur-ball and two loyal subjects. The men obeyed the girl¡¯s every word. When the girl presented my plan to them, they made suggestions as to how to build something more akin to a small ship rather than a raft. They were sailors, ships were their business, so it was natural they knew more about them then I did. I also suspected that the pair of them were just as keen to leave the island as the girl was, or I for that matter. It was all well and good, but no matter how good the design was, we needed tools and materials for the job. We moved our camp to a small clearing where the rocky beach met the forest, and thus began our quest to collect every single piece of wood, crate, barrel, rope, canvas and everything else that had washed up on the western shores of the island. *** The ship must have been a big one. Just the first day we collected so many broken planks and beams I though we could start work right away. Unfortunately we couldn¡¯t, but on the upside, both the girl and the two sailors were sufficiently impressed by how much stuff I could store and transport in Jack¡¯s Room. Oh, I was sure the little ant would have been smiling, had he been with us to witness the stupefied faces on the three of them as they watched me pulling plank after plank into his room. Once I dumped the last of the crates and barrels onto the ground in our new camp, the sailors started opening them. I was really hoping for tools, nails, saw-blades and such. Instead we got wet and rotting food, clothes and trinkets that seemed to have been made of gold. Many of the crates were already broken, their contents lost at sea, but at least we found a single, large barrel that was still intact, filled to the brim with black tar or pitch. If I understood the drawings of the older looking, bald sailor correctly, it was a great find, and we could use to treat the wood and waterproof our ship. I was also happy to find a number of wooden plates and mugs, and a few, usable clay jars in a box. The unfortunate absence of tools and fastenings, like nails or screws, really threw a wrench in the gears. The best idea any of us could come up with was to use the strong looking vines covering almost every tree of the forest, work them into ropes and manage with that somehow. I wasn¡¯t sure how that would work, and neither were the sailors. *** The second day of our newfound little kingdom came and went much the same way as the previous. We worked. And I listened. I was beginning to pick up a few words here and there, and on top of that, I managed to learn the names of all three of my human ¡­ uh ¡­ companions? Servants? Prospective food? I settled for companions. The girl ¡ª if I wasn¡¯t mistaken ¡ª was Krissy, or something like that. The older looking, bald man was Kenta. The other one, young enough to still have hair, was Tommy ¡ª a surprisingly Earth-y name. I began to be able to distinguish words from each other ¡ª although their meanings remained a mystery ¡ª and I began to successfully guess whether their sentences were questions or statements, judging by their intonations. The language was becoming less and less alien. After two years without human speech, it was an overwhelming experience to hear them speaking. But as interesting and fun as it was, it didn¡¯t help us with the problem of tools and nails. *** The third day began the same as the previous two. By the time Krissy and the two sailors woke up, I had several skewers of brined and roasted meat waiting for them, jars of fresh water, and of course a whole boar-leg for Akela. They ate, then Krissy sent her subjects to carry on with their work of sorting through all the collected stuff, and to try and make ropes out of the vines in the forest. Over the past two days, Akela quickly got into the habit of following Krissy around, extorting pats and belly-rubs from her as often as he could. Maybe he preferred his belly-rubs coming from someone he could see, but at least he was diplomatic about it: ¡°Voice good belly-rub, Not-prey good belly-rub¡±. Luckily the girl was becoming wise to this scheme, and she turned out to be much better at refusing the mutt than I was. But at the same time, Krissy also seemed to have taken a liking to the wolf. Unlike the initial, terror-filled gasps she made when seeing him for the first time, the girl was now smiling at Akela whenever he rubbed his head against her. Akela followed Krissy as she walked to one of the crates ¡ª one that contained a large assortment of clothes ¡ª and rummaged through it. She even found a few, painted wooden masks in the large box. The masks looked interesting. My best guess was a fusion of ancient Greek and Italian renaissance theater masks. They were smooth, covering the whole face, the eye-holes large enough to maybe see properly while wearing them. One of them was a smiling mask, another was growling in anger, and a third was a sad, miserable crying mask. Considering this, I thought the clothes Krissy had removed from the box might have been costumes for stage actors rather than street clothes. Or maybe not. I didn¡¯t know much about theaters back home, much less here. Krissy set the masks aside and took the clothes she wanted. I sneakily pulled the masks into Jack¡¯s Room. I couldn¡¯t help it, there was something about their design I really liked. Krissy headed for the nearby stream with Akela in tow. She¡¯d been on the island for three days now, and I was beginning to wonder when she¡¯d decide to clean herself a little. Krissy looked around, but Kenta and Tommy were somewhere down the beach, and here in the forest, on the grassy bank of the stream, there was no-one spying on her. Except Akela and I. She set the new clothes down on a small rock and without taking her tattered, blue dress off, she walked into the water. She shivered, arriving at the middle of the knee deep stream. I couldn¡¯t feel temperature, but I imagined it was rather cold. She knelt down, submerging most of her body, then dunked her head into the water. She rubbed her scalp, washing away all the gunk sticking to her long, brown hair. Then she stood up, the fabric of her soaked dress clinging to her as if it was glued to her body. She was a good looking girl, no doubt about that, and I had no choice but to admire the beauty that was surfacing from underneath the grime and dirt, slowly revealing itself. She looked around again, somewhat nervously if I was any judge, then she looked at the new clothes she¡¯d left on the rock. She then locked eyes with Akela. Krissy must have decided that Akela¡¯s red-eyed gaze wasn¡¯t a threat to her dignity, and she began to remove her old dress. She must have forgotten about the invisible tentacle monster in the vicinity. She dropped her old dress it into the stream, shaking her head, letting the water carry it away. Well, I¡¯d been told women liked to change their wardrobes from time to time, so who was I to argue or to stop her. As I looked at the naked, shivering girl, washing herself with cold, fresh water, two realisations hit me, all at once. Firstly, I was now sure that my libido had died along with my human body back on Earth. I couldn¡¯t say I was happy about this, and I felt like it deserved an official mourning period with candles, flowers, and perhaps a stone monument to its memory. Secondly, the fresh and vivid image of wet silk clinging to her skin gave me an idea how to build that damned ship without nails or screws. The stone monument to my dead libido could wait: it was time for a new series of experiments. Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-one I was almost sure Krissy¡¯s new clothes were some sort of theater costume, rather than everyday street-clothes, but she was wearing them proudly. The outfit kind of suited her, although they were a little big for her. Brown leather or maybe suede trousers, a pair of worn boots, a grey shirt, and a dark, almost black, hooded ¡­ something ¡ª not really a cape, but it wasn¡¯t a poncho either. Something in between. The edges of the cape-poncho hybrid were frayed and torn in a few places, giving it a ragged look, and it covered nearly every inch of her. She seemed to like it, and I was sure it was warmer and more comfortable than the blue dress she¡¯d been wearing before. Akela lay on the ground, occasionally sniffing Krissy¡¯s new clothes, but otherwise not moving, digesting his hearty lunch of unigoat meat and guts. I hadn¡¯t told ¡ª or drawn ¡ª anything to Krissy, and she was probably unsure what I was doing or where I was going with it. She put some wood on the fire, then she settled down to watch the spectacle. I held two pieces of wood ¡ª broken planks from the shipwreck ¡ª with two Mana-Gloved tenties and I was poking at them, my immaterial appendages going through them as if they were made of air. I should have been ready to begin my experiment, but I was feeling nervous ¡ª something akin to stage-fright, since Krissy was watching. I really didn¡¯t want to embarrass myself. I had to remind myself that I was an invisible spirit and I had nothing to worry about even if I messed up a little. The idea was simple: glue. I didn¡¯t know the scientific principles behind adhesion, but I knew you could make glue using, flour, water or milk, corn starch and a bunch of other readily available ingredients. And the kind of ingredients at my disposal were even better. The issue of libido aside, Krissy¡¯s wet clothes sticking to her skin as if glued had not only been a beautiful sight, but it had provided me with the kind of inspiration I needed. Whoever said muses didn¡¯t exist couldn¡¯t have been more mistaken. I took a little Mana. A single MP. I could use Mana on its own it to knock the planks around, I could even use it to break them. Instead, I had the MP coat the edges of the planks. Mana did as instructed, but the moment I cut the supply from the pool, it began to dissipate into the air, vanishing, probably reverting to Essence in a matter of five or six seconds. Mana didn¡¯t last long out in the material world without constant replenishment. Next I pressed the two planks together by their edges with some Mana between them. I willed the magical substance to permeate both pieces and hold them together. Mana did exactly what I needed it to do ¡ª tightly gluing the planks together ¡ª for about five seconds. Then it was gone, and the two planks were back to being separate entities again. Now, as for a bonding agent to make the Mana stay in this world for a more reasonable period of time, I had plenty of Essence in the pool, and a bit of Spirit Stuff I had isolated during our early morning hunt. It took me almost the whole day to figure it out: with about ninety-eight percent Mana, two percent Essence and just a sprinkle of Spirit Stuff kneaded into an invisible dough, I had a spiritual PVA glue that not only worked, but stayed and kept working without a constant supply of Mana. I held up the two unified planks to Krissy. She took them and tried to pull them apart, break them, even banging them against a rock, but it didn¡¯t budge. Krissy set the piece down in front of Akela, then patted his head, nodding in approval. I couldn¡¯t help but feel that the lazy mutt was somehow stealing the credit for this achievement. Ah, being invisible had its drawbacks. *** Krissy presented the successful experiment to Kenta and Tommy in the evening, all of them sitting around the firepit, eating their dinner. I was getting increasingly jealous of them being able to eat actual food, and that included Akela, too, even if his dinner was raw meat. The two sailors stared at the joined pieces of wood with wonder, then they presented their own success: thin vines twisted into a three meter long rope. It was strong, and they had done such a good job that it almost looked like actual, factory made rope, save for the colour. I was impressed, and so was Krissy. And I was impressed that Kirssy had had the foresight not to chase away or kill the sailors. Now that we had mostly everything we needed to build a raft, or a ship, we would be relying on the men¡¯s expertise to make it happen, not to mention the actual sailoring required to navigate the seas. Oh, my clever, beautiful Krissy. ¡®Akela,¡¯ I said to the wolf. He lifted his head and looked around. ¡®We¡¯re definitely keeping her.¡¯ Not-prey good belly-rub. *** The next morning I demonstrated to Kenta and Tommy how my spirit-glue worked. From their point of view it was two pieces of wood floating together to touch each other and then staying like that. But they were sufficiently awed, and they began to actually design our ship, drawing with sticks on the ground. The design process was long ¡ª three days of drawing and re-drawing again and again, the sailors sometimes agreeing, sometimes arguing to the point where our island queen had to step in to calm them down. Kenta and Tommi were sailors, not shipbuilders, but I imagined they had spent a significant time of their lives on ships, so I trusted them to have a decent knowledge of what was what and how it was made. Krissy was talking more and more with the sailors, and I started picking up words here and there: wood, plank, beam, rope, tar ¡­ mostly ship-building words. But it was a start. I also noticed that Krissy had dialed down her evil queen persona, talking to the men with less venom and resentment than before. As the days passed, a certain order, a division of labour came into existence in the Kingdom of Misery Island, and we all just sort of fell into a rhythm, doing the work that needed to be done. Akela and I hunted when we ran out of food, We even found some roots the humans judged edible, expanding our island cuisine. Queen Krissy took over cooking from me, having learned the simple cleaning, cutting and brining of meat and roots. She was also the one fetching fresh water from the stream, and the sailors showed her how to collect vines and turn them into ropes, so she took that over as well. Kenta and Tommy finally settled on the ship¡¯s design, and it fell to them and to me to chop down trees and to process them into usable shapes and sizes. Mana was an incredible substance, the only one of the the Holy-Trinity that could interact with the material world by itself. I was probably the first chef-turned-carpenter in both worlds who used Mana for knives, spatulas, axes, saws, planers and files. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. *** Much to Akeka''s annoyance, I spent more and more time with the sailors, trying to manufacture the pieces needed for our ship. Kenta and Tommy quickly got used to seeing me cutting wooden bits and pieces, floating planks vanishing and re-appearing and such. As much as I enjoyed doing it, woodworking turned out to be a slow-going and Mana-intensive activity. I could chop down smaller trees easily enough: all it took was willing a couple of MPs to coat a tentie in a blade-like fashion, and voila, trees were falling. Transporting a tree to the beach was relatively easy, too: I just had to cut it into two or three smaller logs, and I could fit a few of them into Jack¡¯s Room. One of the biggest problems at this point in the operation was Akela¡¯s complaints about walking back and forth between beach and forest instead of doing fun things like hunting or lazing around. Cutting logs into planks and beams took a lot of Mana, and it took me a while before I could make them straight and smooth, not to mention getting the angles right the way Kenta wanted them. Gluing the pieces together was slow work. After every half a meter of glued material, I had to refill my Mana-pool. I considered using less spirit-PVA, but quickly dismissed the idea: our lives would soon depend on the ship not falling apart, so it would have been ill-advised to skimp on the amount of spirit-glue. Akela also needed frequent breaks, slowing the process down even more. He did not like the beach at all, plus he was bored most of the times and wanted to go play. I was beginning to worry about our upcoming voyage on the sea, wondering how my buddy would handle being on a small ship with very little room to run around. But the work went on, and we were making progress. *** Thirty days after beginning the construction, our ship was taking shape: an ugly, rectangular shape resting on a sturdy frame a meter above ground, resembling a small World War Two landing craft with a mast. It was far from finished, but at least it was more or less the way Kenta and Tommi had designed it to be, and I was satisfied with the progress. Krissy occasionally walked down to the beach to check on our progress. She didn¡¯t have any complaints: if anything she was as impressed as I was. A side-effect of having spent so much time with the sailors was that I was learning their language. Naturally, I mastered the swearwords quickly, as those were flying about all the time. The rest was going slower, but I found myself understanding their discussions more and more. Fifty days after beginning the construction, we were nearly there, and the question whether a spirit could get tired or not had been answered. Having to use my entire Mana-pool and keep re-filling it again and again ¡­ it wore me down. Even Akela was moody these days. But I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Krissy¡¯s ropes and the salvaged canvas sheets from the old sail were the last pieces of this ship-shaped puzzle. The three humans worked hard to craft the patchwork sails, but it was done in a matter of a few days, and on day seventy-three our ship was ready. By this time Akela and I had hunted a lot, and I made it to Level 24. My spherical body grew to a diameter of about 24 centimeters, and my seven tenties stretched to an impressive 2 meters. My primary Essence pool¡¯s maximum capacity stood at 62, the secondary Essence pool at 30. My Mana pool¡¯s max was at 35, and I managed to expand Jack¡¯s Room to have 50 spaces. That was quite a lot, and I had no doubt I could stuff enough provisions for the three humans to last at least two months. I was really seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. *** We all stood on the beach, admiring the result of our labour. No-one said anything; we were all tired, my humans were all mucky, but they were smiling. Krissy decided on the name: The Island Queen. I had no problem with the name, Kenta and Tommi didn¡¯t argue much either. I was just happy it was finished, and happy that I got to the point where I understood the conversation. Krissy walked around the ship, smiling, touching the the dry coat of tar on the base of the ship. Kenta and Tommi were smiling, too, walking around the ship as well, checking everything again and again, making sure they had not missed anything. I smiled, too, inside my soul. I was proud of them. I was proud of my humans. And Akela of course. If any of us had not been here, this wouldn¡¯t have been possible. I extended my senses to touch on the tiny, eternally preserved body of Jack in his room; I was sure that as an ant, he would understand and approve of the teamwork we had displayed over the the past two, almost three months. I sensed Gladys¡¯ body as well ¡ª as fluffy and feathery in death as she had been in life. I was sure she¡¯d have been proud of us, too. Kenta and Tommi helped Krissy climb up on the ladder, and the island queen boarded the Island Queen. The two sailors followed her, showing and explaining what was what and how seafaring worked in general. It seemed my time ¡ª our time ¡ª on Misery Island was coming to an end soon. But there were still things to do: we still needed to cut a few more trees to make a number or round logs so we could roll the ship to the water. Then we had to take it for a test-drive, or whatever the phrase was when it came to ships. We also needed to procure and store provisions, and I somehow had to prepare Akela for a journey on sea that could last a day, a week, a month, or more. *** ¡®You¡¯re such a puppy, Akela,¡¯ I said to the mutt, flailing my tenties around in my irritation, wishing he could see them. ¡®It will be fine. There¡¯ll be plenty of food, plenty of drinking water, and Krissy will give you belly-rubs twenty times a day. The only issue is space.¡¯ Akela had not enjoyed the test run of The Island Queen. In his simple, wolf-y way, he had expressed his wish not to set paw on the big wooden thing ever again. I was running out of arguments to convince him otherwise. Bad. Big thing bad. Water. Bad. ¡®Look, buddy, I can¡¯t leave you behind. You¡¯d die,¡¯ I said. Water bad. Dying good. He argued with me, and I shook my imaginary head. ¡®You¡¯ve got nothing here,¡¯ I argued. ¡®The other wolves won¡¯t even talk to you.¡¯ Others bad. I was dismayed. Akela was my companion. My friend. We were buddies forever, and I wasn¡¯t going to rip his soul out just so I could hop onto Krissy or one of the sailors and leave the island. But ... I really wanted to leave the island. I¡¯d been here for over two years, two and a half even. I remembered the exact moment when I¡¯d quietly accepted that Misery Island was to be my lot for the rest of my existence. I had accepted that at the time. But I remembered the moment I¡¯d first seen Krissy¡¯s frightened face. I hadn¡¯t realised it at the time, but there was something I had felt in my soul, hiding under dismay and annoyance: hope. I wanted to leave and see what this world was like. I really wanted to go with Krissy, Kenta and Tommi, enjoy the company of the kind of creatures I had once been. Even if I was spirit now. Even if they couldn¡¯t see me. And I wanted Akela to be there with me, too. But if Akela refused, if I couldn¡¯t get him to tag along, then I knew I would stay. So I had to try harder. ¡®Alright you useless mutt,¡¯ I said. ¡®What is it you want? What can I do to make you get on the big bad thing and come along? Hm?¡¯ Mate. Pups. He replied immediately. Oh. Alright, so he ¡­ wanted to get laid and have kids. I supposed he was at that age, whatever that age was for wolves. Reasonable. And totally impossible if he stayed here: none of the packs here wanted to have anything to do with him. It had been like that even before I had got here. ¡®Alright,¡¯ I said to him, then paused for a second. ¡®So ¡­ you will get on the big bad thing, endure the big wobbly field of water, and I promise you I will find you a nice wolf-girl once we are on dry land again. Sound good?¡¯ Fine. Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-two Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain sat on the deck with her back against the mast. She had never known much about ships, but even she could tell that The Island Queen was ugly ... or ¡°crude but lovely¡± as Quenta had put it. It was nothing like a ship: a large box with a main and a forward mast, some storage space under the deck, and a single room at the back which the sailors called a castle for some reason. She couldn¡¯t take her eyes off the ropes running to the railings from the top of the mast. She lifted her arm to look at the painful blisters on her palms. Making ropes hadn¡¯t been easy, but she was proud of herself for enduring. She had never had to do something like this before ¡ª doing embroidery at her mothers behest did not count as labour. She wondered if her father would have been proud of her. Considering the circumstances, she believed he would have been. The ship swayed gently under the midday sun, patchwork sail unfurled, enlisting the breeze to slowly drag The Island Queen forward, away from the island. The first day at sea. The hound trudged over to her. It lay down next to her, lowering its head onto her lap. Krissintha started stroking him, the beast growling with appreciation. She suspected the hound didn¡¯t like being on the ship, but she could ask neither the beast nor the spirit about it. The spirit. She was on a ship with a spirit. Krissintha was worried. At first she had thought the spirit was helping them so it could send them on their way because it just wanted the island to itself. She had been wrong, and while she was thankful, she was also worried. Now she had no idea what the spirit was planning, what was going through its head, if it had a head at all. But the spirit was here. In a way it was good: it certainly increased her chances of survival, but beyond that she didn¡¯t know ¡®Uhm ¡­ Lady Krissintha,¡¯ Tommi called out to her, emerging from the so called ¡°castle¡±. ¡®So ¡­ we ¡­ have that box full of water, but we forgot makin¡¯ a lid, so it¡¯s splashin¡¯ all over.¡¯ Before Krissintha could say a word, a large plank appeared in front of her, hovering in the air until she reached out to grab it. She held it up to the sailor. The young man walked over to her and took the plank. ¡®Thanks. This will do,¡¯ Tommi said, looking at the hound with a contemplating gaze. ¡®This ¡­ it¡¯s gettin¡¯ me every time I¡¯m seein¡¯ it.¡¯ Krissintha looked up at Tommi, but didn¡¯t say anything ¡ª it was getting her every time she saw it, too. Such an unnatural thing. She was definitely worried about the spirit. It still used its childish drawings to talk to her, but she didn¡¯t have to do the same any more. It understood them now, more or less. The spirit was learning. A powerful, evil spirit from hell, learning. And helping, going so far as to make this ship possible. Just what was it planning? ¡®I ain¡¯t ever seen a familiar doin¡¯ things like this,¡¯ Quenta commented, talking loudly so he could be heard from the top of the castle, holding the rudder¡¯s pole. ¡®How is it doin¡¯ that, Lady Krissintha, do you know?¡¯ ¡®Familiars don¡¯t speak to their masters,¡¯ Krissintha said, shrugging. ¡®So I don¡¯t know how. It just does it.¡¯ ¡®And it¡¯s drawin¡¯ things.¡¯ Quenta argued. ¡®It¡¯s almost like talkin¡¯. ¡®Is it?¡¯ Krissintha asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡®It¡¯s ¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡¯ Quenta said. ¡®I met some of ¡®em spiritualists, you know, hell, I even went visitin¡¯ a shrine once and seen ¡®em monks. I¡¯m thinkin¡¯ your familiar ain¡¯t the normal sort, no offence, my Lady.¡¯ ¡®What do you want me to tell you, Quenta,¡¯ Krissintha snapped at the sailor. ¡®It was the only spirit I could find, and it¡¯s doing a damn good job. Oh, and it can understand you now, so try not to offend it. It has all our food, remember?¡¯ The moment the word ¡°food¡± left Krissintha¡¯s mouth, a steaming slice of roast meat appeared before her, floating, pale blue power flashing around it for a split second. ¡®Ah, no thank you, I¡¯m not hungry. We were just talking,¡¯ she said, smiling at the hound, hoping she was looking at the spirit, too. The slice of meat vanished. ¡®I think ¡­ I¡¯ll be careful,¡¯ Quenta conceded. ¡®It¡¯s gettin¡¯ me every time.¡¯ Tommi said with a sigh, going back into the castle-room, or whatever it was called. Krissintha sighed, too. The hound growled a bit louder, demanding she resumed stroking its head. She had grown to like the hound, which she should have found at least a little unsettling ¡ª she had no idea what the hound was to the spirit. She knew that the spirit was not her familiar, and even though the hound seemed to be able to draw on its power, the spirit wasn¡¯t the hound¡¯s familiar either. It was probably the other way around, the hound serving the spirit. So ¡­ was the hound a familiar then? She knew some of the terminology spiritualist used, but it was confusing, and she had no clue. ¡®Lady Krissintha,¡¯ Quenta called out to her once again. ¡®What is it?¡¯ she said. ¡®So ¡­ the sun sets and Resting Star rises that way,¡¯ he said, pointing towards the flat, ugly bow of the ship. ¡®That¡¯s west. We¡¯re headin¡¯ west.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯ve said. So?¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®As far as I can tell, we might be endin¡¯ up at the Filante coast. But if we go driftin¡¯ north a bit, we might be endin¡¯ up near the Voysair Empire.¡¯ This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡®You¡¯ve said. So?¡¯ Krissintha asked again. ¡®Island Queen¡¯s slow. Either way, we¡¯ll be reachin¡¯ land in ¡­ dunno ¡­ twenty? Thirty days? Maybe. Hopefully.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯ve said. What are you getting at, Quenta? Out with it!¡¯ Krissintha snapped, losing her patience. ¡®Awright,¡¯ Quenta said, taking a deep breath, looking down at her from the castle. ¡®Say we reach land. What will you be doin¡¯ after? With us I mean?¡¯ Oh. This hadn¡¯t even occurred to her. The past two months had been busy. She had been focusing on the work that needed to be done. But now that Quenta had brought it up, it was something she needed to consider. What to do with the two sailors? They hadn¡¯t done anything to harm her, not directly. But they had been a part of the crew that had wanted to sell them to be some Voysair pig¡¯s plaything. Should she follow her late father¡¯s example? The Lord Baron Granvil Thalmis Dar Ghelain hadn¡¯t been known for his forgiving nature. When people made mistakes, or worse, were caught in an act of betrayal, he made sure those people paid a price, often with their lives. Or should she adopt her late mother¡¯s softer approach? ¡°Let it be a lesson, and you¡¯d better learn because there won¡¯t be a next time¡±? Krissintha glanced down at the now sleeping hound, its head on her lap. She wondered what an evil spirit would do, but she couldn¡¯t even begin to guess. She sighed, then called out to Tommi, ¡®Tommi, come back out!¡¯ The young sailor emerged from the castle once again. Krissintha looked him up and down, then turned her head to Quenta. ¡®The two of you are the last of the crew that tried to sell me to the Voysair,¡¯ she said, squinting at the sailors. They both gulped, but remained silent. ¡®On the other hand you have served me well. You¡¯ve earned ¡­ if not my forgiveness, then some goodwill, enough to give you a choice once we reach land.¡¯ ¡®A ¡­ choice, my Lady?¡¯ Tommi asked, fidgeting nervously. ¡®Yes. A choice.¡¯ Krissintha nodded. ¡®If you so chose, you may leave and go wherever you see fit and hope our paths never cross again. Your faces are a reminder of a time when I was caught at my lowest, and I will not suffer the sight.¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ see,¡¯ Quenta muttered. ¡®What¡¯s the other choice, my Lady?¡¯ ¡®You may continue to serve me under the same terms as now. If you choose to do so, then you may earn my forgiveness one day. You have some time to decide.¡¯ The two sailors took deep breaths, and Tommi seemed to be trembling as he stood at the door of the castle. Krissintha wanted to smile. She had already made up her mind to let them go. They didn¡¯t deserve to be killed or punished in any other way. And even if she wanted kill them, she couldn¡¯t do it by herself, and she was absolutely sure the spirit wouldn¡¯t assist her. Quenta and Tommi were just ¡­ sailors. Yes, she would let them go, but she thought it prudent to keep them at least a little bit fearful, just to make sure they knew their places, at least until they went their separate ways. ¡®Uhm ¡­ Lady Krissintha?¡¯ Tommi started to ask cautiously. ¡®What will you be doin¡¯?¡¯ ¡®Me? Is that any of your business?¡¯ she snapped at the sailor. ¡®Oh, no. Of course not,¡¯ the man said quickly, flinching and nearly fleeing back to the castle. Krissintha had a hard time keeping herself from laughing at the reaction of the young man. ¡®Well, if you must know,¡¯ Krissintha said, trying to keep a straight face. ¡®I am going to Thyssa.¡¯ ¡®Thyssa?¡¯ Quenta asked. ¡®Isn¡¯t that ¡­ dangerous for you, my Lady?¡¯ ¡®Oh, are you worried about me?¡¯ she asked, this time unable to keep her mouth from curling upwards. ¡®I mean ¡­ well ¡­ I ¡­¡¯ Quenta stuttered. ''It¡¯s dangerous. But my younger brother may still be alive. If he is, I will find him,¡¯ she said, stroking the sleeping hell-hound¡¯s head. ¡®After that, there is a king I need to kill.¡¯ The two sailors went quiet, their eyes suddenly wide, their faces displaying an expression Krissintha could only interpret as terrified. She savoured it. Fear was a splendid tool, and even though she had just lied to put a little more of it into the men, it was worth it. The looks on their faces told Krissintha that the pair of them firmly believed that she could and would do exactly what she¡¯d said. She fully intended to find her brother, that was true. She didn¡¯t know what had happened to little Bernard, but if he was alive, she¡¯d find him. Killing the new king of Thyssa, well ¡­ it was a nice and heartwarming thought, but she knew it was off the table. Even if she had an army, or several armies, it would be impossible. She glanced down at the hound again, sleeping so peacefully. She wondered what the spirit would do once they reached land. Would it choose to go with her? Or would it take off with the hound? She didn¡¯t know. But there was time until then. This was only the first day of their voyage. *** Krissintha had nothing to do. Time was so slow, the sun was so bright, and the salty air so irritating. She began to understand the hound¡¯s mood swings ¡ª she was close to having them herself. Ten days at sea. This was the longest she¡¯d ever spent on a ship, and while it was better than being a prisoner on the ill-fated Dalar¡¯s Heart, The Island Queen was an exceedingly boring and uncomfortable affair. Quenta and Tommi didn¡¯t complain, not once ¡ª Krissintha knew they were used to it. They had probably spent most of their lives at sea. They took turns at the rudder, keeping the ship on course as much as they could, made sure the masts and the sails were doing whatever it was they were doing, chatted between themselves and played with the hound occasionally. To Krissintha¡¯s astonishment, Quenta began teaching new words to the spirit. The man would use old planks, carving images into it with his dagger, saying the corresponding words out loud until the spirit ¡ª with a small flash of power ¡ª sanded the plank smooth. Then the process would start again. This wasn¡¯t a normal spirit. The food was just as boring as it had been on the island, but the spirit had stocked hundreds of the pre-cooked slices with ¡­ however it was doing it. It was the same with fresh water: a new, tar-treated, water filled box would appear whenever the water ran out. This wasn¡¯t a normal spirit. But none of this helped with her boredom. *** The eleventh day came. She woke up, clambered to her feet from the hard floor of the castle-room, stretched her limbs, had a few gulps of water from the half-full box, then went out to the deck. Tommi was at the rudder, and Quenta was sitting, leaning against the mast, petting the hound with one hand, carving a new word onto a plank with the other, teaching his invisible, hell-spawn pupil. She approached them and took the roast meat and the weird tasting root-thing from the air as it appeared. She ate it and she was ready for a new day of nothing. Then Tommi¡¯s panicked voice rang out. ''Oi! Quenta! Come up ¡®ere! Now!¡¯ Oh, what now?¡¯ the older sailor grumbled, but he pulled himself up and the ladder up to the castle-top. ¡®Look!¡¯ Tommi cried, pointing ahead into the distance. Krissintha turned to look, but standing on the deck, she saw nothing. ¡®Oh, for all the fukken spirit-shit in the world!¡¯ Quenta swore, tearing at his own hair. Krissintha rushed to the ladder. She didn¡¯t know what it was, but Tommi¡¯s wailing and Quenta¡¯s swearing told her this wasn¡¯t good. She arrived next to them and looked, squinting and straining her eyes. ''What in the ¡­¡¯ she gasped, as she finally noticed it. ¡®Kraken!¡¯ Tommi cried. Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-three Kenta scratched the image of a wolf, or maybe a dog, onto the plank with his dagger. He said the word for it and kept repeating it until I sanded the plank clean with Mana. I was unable to decide what that picture was, so I put the word down for both dog and wolf for the time being. I appreciated his effort, but I just couldn¡¯t understand how a man capable of drawing precise ship designs was unable to draw anything else properly. He drew a human male bust. It was worse than my own drawings, and I wasn¡¯t sure if he meant ¡°man¡± or ¡°human¡±, so again, I memorized the word as if it meant both. Then he scratched another figure onto the plank. It was the same as the previous one, a bust, but for some reason it had long, pointy ears. What was this? An elf? Did this world have elves? If yes, then I was interested in meeting one some day. Kenta repeated the word for "elf" a few times, and I commited it to memory. Krissy clambered out of the cabin at the back of the ship, yawning and stretching. I offered her breakfast, which she took, then she sat down to eat. Then I turned back to my language lesson, patting Akela with a tentie, learning another new word. This was how I¡¯d been spending the past few days. Life at sea was boring. Right until I heard Tommy¡¯s panicked shout. *** ¡®Shit!¡¯ I muttered as I looked at the giant mass of tentacles emerging from the water maybe a kilometer away. Krissy was saying something, her voice lost in the panicked exchange between the two sailors. Kenta pushed Tommi aside, grabbing the handle of the rudder, steering the ship into a sharp turn. Bad! Bad! Bad! Akela¡¯s wailing thoughts echoed in my mind. I agreed. Bad. A kraken. A fucking kraken. I suddenly remembered Krissy¡¯s drawing of giant tentacles smashing a ship. I should have known: of course there were krakens in the seas ¡ª that¡¯s how Krissy had ended up on my island in the first place. We should have just stayed there. How was I, how were we supposed to survive that? Did it see us? Was it coming our way? Was it going to smash The Island Queen to bits? ¡®Uhm ¡­ well, don¡¯t worry!¡¯ I tried to calm Akela. ¡®That thing is ¡­ my cousin. Maybe I¡¯ll just eat it.¡¯ I looked at my own tenties, then at the giant monstrosity out there in the sea. It was getting closer, its tentacles flailing around, splashing incredible amounts of water up in the air ¡ª that thing was a godzilla of the seas. Even if it was just coming to chellange me to a tentacle-measuring contest, I¡¯d be the loser, and I had a feeling it had other ideas. Krissy was urging the sailors to steer the ship more and faster. But ... there was nothing they could do. There was nothing humans, or any other creatures could do against that giant, multi-tentacled menace. That kilometer between our ship and the monster became half a kilometer in a matter of minutes. I stared at it, at its bright, purple coloured soul. I had to do something. Perhaps I really should try to eat it ¡ª it had a soul after all. But my tenties were only two meters long, and I didn¡¯t think Akela or the humans would survive that kind of proximity to the monster. I dreaded the though of them dying. I liked them. All of them. I needed a different and much better idea, but my mind came up blank. I simply stared at our approaching doom, leaving foaming, bubbling waves in its wake as it propelled itself closer and closer to The Island Queen. Foam. Bubbles. Oh yes. Bubbles! That was it. We had a minute, two minutes at best. Kenta and Tommi were wailing something that sounded like prayers. Krissy just stood there against the railing, gritting her teeth and mumbling some curse. I was sure they all thought this was the end. But ¡­ I had bubbles. My mind had never worked so fast as it did now, calling on everything I knew, every little scrap of experience I had with the spiritual building materials I had been using and experimenting with. I poured all the Essence from both pools ¡ª worth 90 EP ¡ª out into my body. I poured all 35 MP I had and mixed the two substances together. I didn¡¯t have any Spirit Stuff ¡ª I had never figured out how to keep some in reserve for longer than a day ¡ª but I used an idea I had been toying with ever since my fight with Jevan¡¯s familiar. I took a deep, mental breath, and I used one of my tentacles to chop off another. It hurt like hell, but I quickly grabbed my poor, severed tentie and I threw it into the Essence-Mana mix, and I kneaded them together, willing it to become what I wanted it to be. ¡®Please work! Please work! Please work!¡¯ I cried as I worked. The mixture was losing Essence and even some of the dissolved Spirit Stuff from my tentie, evaporating into the air. My Tentacle Horror instinct was puzzled at first, then it caught on and helped me guide the Mana to keep the necessary amount of Essence and Spirit Stuff in the dough, fixing it so it could exist in physical reality. The kraken was upon us. Akela wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go, and I held him back. Even Krissy was screaming now, joining Kenta and Tommi in their cries and wails as they watched the enormous tentacles rise above The Island Queen. Lucky for me, the three of them huddled together for the moment they thought would be their last, Akela in their midst. Expand you bastard, expand!¡¯ I screamed as I willed the spirit-dough to inflate like a balloon. Like a soap-bubble. And it did. A single tentacle of the kraken fell on the ship, breaking the mast into splinters, smashing through The Island Queen, cutting her in half. Hundreds of blue flashes signaled the spirit-glue giving up on its task, letting broken bits of wood fly everywhere. The stern of the ship lifted into the air as the middle sunk down, flinging the huddling, screaming people and wolf into the air. My spirit-bubble grew around us, shimmering a faint blue, debris and water smashing against the expanding membrane. The three humans looked like they were screaming, but I couldn¡¯t hear them. Air. We needed air inside. I opened a few gaps on the surface of the bubble, letting air in, and I finally heard their cries and Akela¡¯s desperate howls. Then I closed the gaps just as we splashed into the sea. The Island Queen was no more: two tentacles ¡ª thick as a hundred year old tree, and at least twenty meters long ¡ª dragged the two halves of it down. Krissy, Kenta and Tommi stopped screaming. They all looked around, gawking at the perfectly spherical crater in the water that my bubble had created, sinking a quarter of a way down. We were safe. For about five seconds. That damned, tentacled cousin of mine just wasn¡¯t going to let us go, was it? I didn¡¯t know if it could actually see us or sense us in some other way, but one of its tentacles fell on my bubble, pushing us into the water, deeper and deeper. Akela resumed his howling, and the three humans their screaming. The bubble didn¡¯t burst, which was good, but I saw the kraken coiling its tentacle around us. I saw the giant suckers on it, each the size of Kenta¡¯s head at least. It was not letting us go, and there was only one thing I could do. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I plunged all five of my free tentacles into the purple soul of the kraken. At first, nothing happened. I began consuming Spirit-Stuff from the part of its soul corresponding to the tentacle, but the beast showed no signs of even noticing it. So I ate some more and some more and some more. I reached Level 25 and I used all the Spirit-Stuff I had gained to grow my tentacles so I could eat even more. I felt the giant beast shuddering for the first time as I drove my tenties deeper into its soul. And I ate and I ate some more. A minute passed. Level 26. I grew my tentacles even longer. The humans stopped screaming and I could only hear Akeka¡¯s whimpering. It was getting darker as we were being dragged deeper under the sea. Damn fucking kraken! But there was nothing else I could do, so I kept eating. Another minute passed. Level 27. The tentie I had cut off grew back. It joined the other five, going deep into the purple soul. My bubble was cracking. I could feel it. The air was running out, too ¡ª everyone was breathing heavier, gulping the used up air. We were in almost complete darkness now, and I didn¡¯t even want to guess how deep the beast had dragged us. We weren¡¯t going to last long. And there was still nothing I could do besides trying to eat faster. Level 28. This wasn¡¯t helping. I was growing but it wasn¡¯t helping. Krissy and the others were losing consciousness ¡ª this was now a bubble of carbon-dioxide, and they were ¡­ going to die. My friends were going to die. I wouldn¡¯t die but they would. Level 29. The kraken didn¡¯t budge. I wanted to cry and scream as I nearly gave up, but I saw something. A thin, translucent thread, glowing softly. Wensah. The blond wench appeared in the middle of my bubble, right above of the passed out humans, wearing the same red dress as before, and she was almost glowing in the darkness. ¡®Wensah!¡¯ I screamed at her. ¡®Get us out of here! Now!¡¯ Wensah shrugged and snapped her fingers. A flash of light, and we weren¡¯t undersea any more. I immediately opened as many holes in the bubble as I safely could, and I kept them open. Then I had time to observe where we were. Our little bubble was bombarded by sunshine, hovering some twenty meters above the sea, or more. I saw remnants of the The Island Queen floating on the water, but luckily there was no sign of the kraken. I would have sighed a sigh of relief if I could. My companions were breathing, still unconscious, but alive. ¡®Thanks,¡¯ I mumbled, somewhat dazed, the fact that we all lived sinking in. ¡®Alright, first of all, were you eating ¡­ a kraken?¡¯ Wensah asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows. ¡®Ahm, yes,¡¯ I said. ¡®And what¡¯s with the bubble?¡¯ she asked, looking around, reaching out to touch the membrane above her. ¡®It saved our lives,¡¯ I said. Wensah scowled as she lowered her arm, looking at me. ¡®Really? It saved their lives, maybe. You¡¯d have been fine, but you won¡¯t be fine because I will kill you because why aren¡¯t you on the island where I left you?¡¯ she howled at me, as angry as I¡¯d ever seen anyone. ¡®Well, I made some friends, and we decided to go somewhere.¡¯ I said. ¡®Oh, you stupid soul!¡¯ she cried out, looking up at the sky above. ¡®I told you why you had to stay on the island. Why wouldn¡¯t you listen?¡¯ ¡®You didn¡¯t tell me shit! I kind of figured it out, but you didn''t tell me shit,¡¯ I countered, my anger rising, remembering instantly what an arrogant and irritating weirdo she was. ¡®Do you have any idea what would happen if a Tentacle Horror was loose on the mainlands? Huh? Do you?¡¯ she demanded. ¡®Not really,¡¯ I said, wanting to shake the head I no longer had. ¡®But ¡­ how come you¡¯re here? Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯ve never been happier to see you, but why?¡¯ ¡®Oh, nothing special, I just noticed Essence wasn¡¯t coming my way from you. So I thought you died, you know, that maybe something killed you. Something like your own stupidity.¡¯ Apart from being called stupid, it made sense. I had used all my Essence to make the bubble, and my tentacles had not been collecting any while absorbing the kraken''s soul. Of course: no Essence had been going to her through the little thread that ¡­ was ¡­ right in front of me. The thread. A thin thread that somehow connected me to her, traversing through who knows what distances and dimensions. I could see it again, and I was sure Wensah wasn''t aware of this. ''Alright, so ...'' I began to say, but she cut me short. ¡®I will do you one last favor and dump your so called friends somewhere safe,¡¯ Wensah said, sighing, looking at my companions. ¡®But you? I think I can consider this experiment a failure, so ¡­ you I will kill. Yes.¡¯ ¡®What? Hold on hold on hold on!¡¯ I shouted, flailing my tentacles around, making sure some of them accidentally passed through Wensah¡¯s thread, getting a feel for its composition. ¡®Hold on what?¡¯ she demanded, her hands on her hips. ¡®You¡¯re not only stupid but disobedient. And a Tentacle Horror. I can¡¯t just let you go around showing off your appetite. Everyone would throw a tantrum.¡¯ ¡®Look, Wensah, I apologize for ¡­ not listening to your instructions, alright?¡¯ I said, trying to buy at least a few seconds to come up with something to say, something actually helpful. ¡®Going forward I¡¯ll be ¡­ more attentive. And I can control my appetite. See these people? Do they look eaten?¡¯ ¡®They don¡¯t,¡¯ she conceded. ¡®Then again, maybe you¡¯re just hoarding food.¡¯ ¡®Come on, Wensah, I do like them, but not in that way. They¡¯re my friends.¡¯ I retorted. ¡®Are you saying I should just let you go and roam around?¡¯ she asked, scowling. ¡®Basically ¡­ yes.¡¯ I said. ¡®You have clearly invested time, effort and Essence into bringing me over here, doing that ¡­ what was it? Soul-surgery?¡¯ ¡®Well, the Essence cost alone was almost prohibitive,¡¯ she nodded. ¡®And what a disappointment you turned out to be.¡¯ ¡®Well, maybe, but only if you ¡­ look at it from just one angle.¡¯ I said. ¡®When you mess up an omelette you can still turn it into scrambled eggs. I can be scrambled eggs.¡¯ Wensah stared at me, her beautiful, irritating face scrunching up in a grimace. I had to admit, at least to myself, it wasn''t my best metaphore, but it just had to do. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I don¡¯t usually admit when I don¡¯t understand something, but ¡­ what are you talking about?¡¯ she growled at me. In a way, she was surprisingly honest and straightforward for a god-like entity, or spirit. She¡¯d have been a horrible fit for Earth ¡ª all the supposed gods back home were all about being cryptic, ambiguous and as difficult to understand as possible. She¡¯d have stuck out like a sore thumb, people denouncing her for not being mystical enough, or for her holy books not poetic enough. ¡®What I mean is ¡­¡¯ I said to her ¡®¡­ that if your original purpose for me didn¡¯t work out, then find another one. Something more ¡­ suitable. Don¡¯t you have creatures you dislike? You could drop us on top of them, and I¡¯d eat them for you. Just an example. And I¡¯d still be collecting Essence, right?¡¯ ¡®Hm,¡¯ Wensah hummed, apparently in thought now. I felt like I needed something more to convince her. I racked my brain for whatever else might be weighing against me in her decision making process, and I found one. Tentacle Horror. ¡®There must be a way to disguise myself, so that others won¡¯t see me as a Tentacle Horror. Assuming there are creatures besides you that could see me.¡¯ I said, purposefully neglecting to mention my experience with Jevan¡¯s familiar. ¡®If I can disguise myself and I behave, I think it should be safe enough.¡¯ Hm,¡¯ Wensah hummed again, shifting her weight from one leg to the other despite floating in the middle of my bubble, slightly above the pile consisting of my friends. ¡®So?¡¯ I asked. ¡®You¡¯re not wrong that it would be a waste to just kill you,¡¯ she said, and I felt an immense relief. It seemed today wasn¡¯t the day I would die for a second time. ¡®But I could just dump you back on that island, you know.¡¯ ¡®Come on, Wensah, I can be useful to you. I¡¯m sure of it. Can¡¯t you find something for me to do, instead of just having me rot away on some island, playing with ants?¡¯ ''Ants?¡¯ ¡®Long story,¡¯ I said, waving a tentacle dismissively. ¡®The point is: I can do things for you. Perhaps even things you can¡¯t do yourself for one reason or another. I can be your secret weapon, in a manner of speaking.¡¯ Wensah looked up at the sky, at the sun, watching it through the shimmering membrane of my bubble. She took her time thinking, and I took my time to unobtrusively observe the thread running from me to her. After a long minute, she looked back at me. ¡®Maybe you¡¯re not that stupid after all,¡¯ she said, triggering a distinct sense of deja-vu in me. ¡®Fine. I won¡¯t kill you. And I won¡¯t take you back to the island either. I¡¯ll give you a chance ¡­ a simple task for you and your little friends here. Let¡¯s see how you lot fare.¡¯ I didn¡¯t have a single second to react or reply ¡ª she snapped her fingers again, and the endless sea was no longer the predominant feature of the landscape. Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-four Wensah dumped us on solid ground rather unceremoniously, bubble and all. For a moment I was scared we were back on Misery Island, but when we plonked down on a sandy beach instead of a rocky one, I knew we were somewhere else. I dismissed the bubble, Mana, Essence and Spirit Stuff slowly disappearing, and the bubble was no more. I looked over my unconscious companions sprawled out on the soft sand. Akela lay next to Krissy, breathing and alive. Kenta and Tommi were next to them, huddling together even when passed out. We were alive. All of us. And as unexpected as it was, it was Wensah whom I had to thank for it. The blond wench stood over my friends, looking around as if she was a tourist at some famous spot. Then she looked at me. ¡®So. This is the place, and this is what I want you to do,¡¯ she said without preamble and began to explain what it was she expected of me. Maybe it was a little too early to be thankful ¡ª I did not like what she was saying, what she wanted us to do. But we didn¡¯t really have a choice. At least I didn¡¯t have to go through weird and ancient texts containing indecipherable prophecies to know what she wanted, so that was a plus. ¡®Is everything clear?¡¯ Wensah barked the words, glaring at me menacingly. ¡®Crystal clear,¡¯ I said, having a sudden urge to snap to attention and to salute her. In truth, I had a lot of questions, but I had a feeling she wasn¡¯t in the mood to answer any, so I pretended I understood everything. Which I sort of did. ¡®Good,¡¯ Wensah said. ¡®A piece of advice: you might want to hang onto one of the humans instead of the dog. It will make things easier for you.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s a wolf,¡¯ I said. ¡®Don¡¯t you start nitpicking!¡¯ she snapped at me. ¡®Wolf, dog, kraken ¡­ same thing. Material creatures.¡¯ ¡®Alright, alright. Fine,¡¯ I said. ¡®But is it even possible to ¡­ let the dog go without ripping his soul out?¡¯ ¡®What? You haven¡¯t figured it out yet?¡¯ she asked, staring at me like I was a dumb kid struggling with the times tables at school. ¡®How do I do it?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Easy. If you can¡¯t rip the tether out at on one end, then rip it out at the other end,¡¯ she said, shaking her head, giving me a pitying look. My imaginary mouth hung open. It ¡­ made sense, actually. How had I not considered this before? Maybe Wensah was right, and I was dumb. ''Alright then, you know what to do, so good luck and good-bye.¡¯ Wensah said, sneering at me, then she vanished without a trace. So this was it. I hoped Krissy and and the others wouldn¡¯t be too angry that we suddenly owed a debt to an annoying godling. *** Akela, Krissy and the two sailors were still unconscious. But they were dry, the sand under them was soft, and judging by the bright sun in the clear sky it wasn¡¯t a cold day. They would wake up soon, I hoped, and I decided to take stock of my own affairs while waiting. I was Level 29. I had seven tenties, each of them almost five meters long now. It was impressive ¡ª if I stretched two of them out in opposite directions, I was ten meters long, resembling a bunch ropes tangled into a lump in the middle. Yeah, I looked a little weird with such long tenties attached to a basket-ball sized body. But all in all, I couldn¡¯t complain. Since my spherical body hadn¡¯t done any growing, my pools remained the same size. Primary Essence 62, secondary 30, Mana 35, and Jack¡¯s Room the same 50 spaces, filled to the brim with food, wooden bits and all the various things I¡¯d collected from the crates and barrels on Misery Island. The one thing I was very happy about was the speed at which my tentacles were collecting Essence now: it had more then doubled, and my Essence pools were filling up quickly. *** It was time to figure out how to swap hosts. I looked at Akela as he slept, and I focused on the Essence wires connecting him to me. They ran from his soul-nodes, through my tentacle, to my own nodes. I wasn¡¯t sure what all of the nodes did; all I knew that if I tried to pull my tentie and the wires out, I would yank Akela¡¯s soul out of his body and he¡¯d die. Wensah was right: I could just do it the other way around and pull the Essence wires out of my own body. I was sure it was going to hurt like hell, but what choice did I have? But before I jumped into the operation, I had an even closer look at Akela¡¯s soul. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I sent a little bit of Mana along the Essence wires and I watched it as it went. It arrived at one of the nodes in Akela¡¯s soul, somewhere in his chest, and it stayed there, waiting to be used by him. That node must have been responsible for Akela¡¯s ability to use my Mana. Then I spoke to him. Akela was still asleep, but the node in his head seemed to react. I¡¯d never noticed it before, but then again, I had never really looked. The node in his soul-head vibrated or pulsed a little, barely perceptible even to me. I figured the node was responsible for our ability to talk to each other. I saw ten others to which my Essence wires had connected. I was sure one or more of those were the ones that enabled my body to tag along Akela as he moved. There were more, unconnected nodes dotting Akela¡¯s soul, but I had no idea what they did. I wanted to free my furry friend. But I also wanted to be able to talk to him, and I wanted him to be able to use my Mana. This was the next thing to figure out. I turned my attention to the nodes in my own body. I found them quickly and I found the Mana and comm-wires. I pulled on them a little, but my Tentacle Horror instinct warned me they were made of pure Essence and they weren¡¯t particularly stretchy. On top of that, they only worked when inside of a soul or a spirit body. This is where Wensah¡¯s thread came into play. I had managed to take a long enough look at Wensah¡¯s thread. It was also made of pure Essence, but it was lighter or less dense, and it somehow stretched and expanded as Wensah moved. She could even make it invisible to me ¡ª although I hadn¡¯t figure it out how she could do that. I had some serious work to do, and my Tentacle Horror instinct was raring to go. I took a little bit of Essence and little bit of Mana. I formed Essence into a short thread inside one of my tentacles, doing the same with Mana. Then I overlaid one wire on top of the other ¡ª according to my Tentacle Horror instinct, this way Essence would gain some of the properties Mana possessed. So I willed Mana to impart its wisdom onto the Essence string. My instinct hadn''t been wrong. The string became different: lighter, stretchy and responsive, like Wensah¡¯s Essence. The little bit of Mana I had used lost its own responsiveness in the process, so I expelled it. A considerable amount of Essence and Mana later, I had the kind of strings I wanted. I couldn¡¯t make them invisble like Wensah could, but I was confident they would serve their purpose: they would stretch, they¡¯d even draw more Essence and Mana from my pools if they needed to expand, and most of all, they would provide me with a connection to Akela. And with that done, it was time for some pain. I took a deep, mental breath, and I pierced my own body with a tentacle. It hurt, but the real pain came when I touched one of my nodes, trying to tear the bundle of Essence wires out of it. The wires didn¡¯t budge, instead they brought the node with them. At that moment I learned what burning alive in the fires of hell felt like ¡ª I could feel it in my body and in my soul, and when you¡¯re a spirit, no-one could hear you scream. I had no choice but to tear the nodes out of my body. It was outright self-mutilation as far as I was concerned ¡ª pure torture. I screamed as I tore the first node out, wires and all. The pain was bad, but it didn¡¯t seem like a fatal wound, and my spiritual body began to ¡­ sort of heal, almost immediately, I felt Essence leaving my pool, mixing into Spirit-Stuff my body was re-allocating to form something I could perhaps call scab, or something like it, to fill the self-inflicted wound. I marveled at how my spirit-body was dealing with the damage. Pain clouding my mind, I began repeating this appalling procedure until Akela was completely free of me. Once it was done, I had to take a break to let the pain subside. I started feeling better after a few minutes, and I got to work again. I made long, Wensah-style wires, and I carefully attached them to the Mana and comm nodes in both Akela¡¯s soul and my own body. I was happy with the result ¡ª neither me nor my Tentacle Horror instinct had any doubt it would work. All that was left to do now was to attach myself to Krissy. *** I wondered what kind of face Krissy would make if she woke up to my voice in her head. I was sure she¡¯d be scared and confused at first, but I was also sure she¡¯d get used to it. Eventually. I was looking forward to talking to her directly. I was as excited as I was nervous about it. I knew enough of the language to have basic conversations, enough to explain what was going on, although I wasn¡¯t sure whether language was going to play a part in the kind of communication we were going to have. I had been talking to a wolf after all, and as clever as Akela was, he didn¡¯t have a language. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a kind of stage-fright. I hoped Krissy wouldn¡¯t immediately demand that I release her. I was having all kinds of second thoughts about this, but in the end I had to suck it up and get it over with. I took a deep mental breath and turned my attention to the girl lying on the sand. I willed 15 EP to gather at the tip of one of my tenties and I slowly, carefully drove it into her beautiful, teal coloured soul. It was done. Krissy was mine. Well, in a manner of speaking. Back on Misery Island, when I had first met Krissy, I had decided I would not let her be hurt, not without knowing what was going on and why. I hadn¡¯t wanted to be that kind of person, and I didn¡¯t want to be one now. It had been the right decision. Now I made another decision: I wouldn¡¯t be the kind of person who forced himself on someone. So I swore to myself that if she demanded to be rid of me, I wouldn¡¯t argue and I would go through the painful process of letting her go. If that happened, perhaps Kenta or Tommy would be willing to take me on and put up with me for some time, just until I found some other, suitable and willing host. *** Akela stirred, flicking his tail into Krissy¡¯s face, tickling her. Krissy slowly opened her eyes and moved one of her arms, trying to scratch her face. She took a few deep breaths, groaning. Oxygen deprivation could have serious, long term effects, but she seemed to be fine, and I could barely contain my joy at that. Krissy sat up, supporting herself with her hands. She took a fistful of sand, staring at it and letting it flow out between her fingers. She clambered to her feet groggily, then her gaze fell on Akela and the two sailors. She quickly knelt down to check if they were alive or not. She sighed with relief when she saw Kenta and Tommy were breathing. Akela opened his red eyes. It was time. ¡®Good morning,¡¯ I said to Krissy. Hungry. Akela complained. Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-five Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain opened her eyes, squinting at the bright, blue sky above her. For a few moments her mind was blank, not knowing where she was or how she had got there. Then those moments passed, and images of giant tentacles, a breaking ship and the darkness of the sea destroyed the blessed nothing in her mind. She sat up and looked around. Sand. A beach. Not the one she¡¯d known for the past who knows how many months, but a new one. She saw the hell-hound lying next to her on one side, Quenta and Tommi tangled up with each other on the other. What in the hell had happened? All she could remember was ¡­ tentacles. Giant, coiling tentacles, dragging them deep under the sea, water surrounding them but at the same time not. She never wanted to see tentacles again. Never. But what had happened after? She remembered getting tired, then falling asleep, and now? A beach? She glanced at the hell-hound. Was this the spirit¡¯s doing? She clambered to her feet and checked the sailors and the hound. She sighed with relief: they were alive. The hell-hound opened it eyes and it moved its head a little, looking at her. Good morning. She heard a voice. She flinched and twirled around, but saw no-one. The voice was distant, like an echo from a faraway cave, but at the same time it felt like it was close. Then she heard a second voice. Hungry. It said. It was a rough voice, almost growly, and just as the first one, it had come from nowhere. She wasn¡¯t even sure if she had heard them with her ears. She shook her head, thinking maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. So ¡­ how are you, Krissy? Are you alright? The first voice came again. ¡®Uh ¡­ I¡¯m ¡­ fine?¡¯ Krissintha said, looking around in a panic, still not seeing anyone or anything. Was she losing her mind? Or was this a dream, her last dream as she was drifting to her death under the sea? Must have been a dream; no-one had called her Krissy except her father. Maybe she was dreaming of him. Hungry. Now. The second voice demanded. Oh, you worthless mutt. Is your stomach the only thing you can think of? The first voice scolded the second. Eat. Now. The growly voice demanded again. Fine. The first one conceded. Then a chunk of raw meat appeared out of nowhere, along with a small wooden plank, preventing the meat from dropping onto sand. Good. The growly voice said. And the hell-hound began to eat its ¡­ breakfast? Lunch? Krissintha looked up at the sun. It was high above, so it was probably about midday. Sorry about that. Wolf¡¯s got to eat. The first voice said. Krissintha quickly put the pieces of this puzzle together, realising what was going on. She wasn¡¯t dead, and it wasn¡¯t a dream or her imagination. ¡®You ¡­ you¡¯re the spirit. You¡¯re the spirit, and the other voice is the hound,¡¯ she blurted the words out, staring wide-eyed at the hound devouring its meal. Yes I am, and ¡­ wait! You can hear Akela? The spirit asked. ''Akela?¡¯ Krissintha asked, not knowing what it meant. Uhm, the wolf. The hound. His name is Akela. You can hear him? ¡®I ¡­ can.¡¯ Hm. Interesting. Well, I¡¯ll worry about that later. ¡®Worry? Is this bad?¡¯ she asked, suddenly scared. Oh, no, it¡¯s nothing to worry about. It¡¯s just ¡­ I wasn¡¯t expecting you hearing Akela, that¡¯s all. The spirit explained, but it didn¡¯t help her feel calmer about this whole affair. Krissintha didn¡¯t know much about spirits or spiritualists, but she knew familiars didn¡¯t talk. Only monks at shrines could talk with spirits, and she was most certainly not a monk. What the hell was happening? ¡®Why? Why am I hearing you?¡¯ she demanded, frightened and excited at the same time. For a moment the spirit didn¡¯t say anything, then it sounded like it was sighing, or taking a deep breath. Alright, so ¡­ I¡¯ll tell you, but don¡¯t get mad. ¡®Mad? Have you done something to me? Something bad?¡¯ Krissintha asked, her excitement decreasing, her apprehension rising. I wouldn¡¯t say bad, it¡¯s just ¡­ I didn¡¯t really have the chance to ask you for permission in advance. But it¡¯s not permanent, of that I assure you, and I certainly won¡¯t eat your soul. Krissintha gulped, and her knees almost gave out. Eating. Her. Soul. Did spirits do that? Then it struck her: she¡¯d almost forgotten that this was an evil spirit from the depth of hell. Of course it was eating souls. And the hell-hound ¡­ it would eat her body if the spirit ordered it so. This was bad. ¡®Please don¡¯t eat me,'' she said, gulping. I won¡¯t eat you. Ever. We¡¯re friends. The spirit said, sounding ¡­ exasperated. ¡®Friends?¡¯ she asked, thoroughly confused. Hm ¡­ well, it¡¯s one sided at the moment, but don¡¯t worry about that. Why don¡¯t you settle down, and I¡¯ll tell you how we got here and why you can hear me. *** If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Krissintha sat on the sandy beach. The hell-hound, Akela apparently, finished its meal and trudged over to her, laying his head on her lap, demanding to be stroked. She obliged while listening to the spirit telling of a god named Wensah, who had personally come to their rescue, snatching them straight from the kraken¡¯s tentacles. The spirit then gave her a brief explanation why she could hear it, reassuring her again and again that she was in no danger of being eaten. It was ¡­ strange, almost inconceivable, having a conversation with a spirit. Its voice was ghostly and frightening, and knowing that the invisible creature was attached to her now, was even more so. And owing a debt to a god? She¡¯d never heard of anyone owing a debt to a god, ever. To the monks running the shrines of the gods, yes, that could happen, but to a god directly? What the hell? But ¡­ ¡®So ¡­ you¡¯re not an evil spirit then? You¡¯re my familiar?¡¯ she asked. The prospect of becoming a spiritualist had occurred to her: the power a spirit could give its master was no joke, and this particular spirit had done things even Quenta had never heard of. A familiar. This could work. This could give her the chance to survive, and more. I don¡¯t know about ¡­ familiar. Let¡¯s just say its a partnership. And what do you mean evil spirit? Do I look evil to you? ¡®I can¡¯t see you,¡¯ Krissintha said, shaking her head. Good point. Had the spirit just forgotten it was invisible? ¡®So ¡­ partnership then,¡¯ Krissintha mused, getting used to the idea rather quickly. ¡®Does this mean I¡¯ll be able to ¡­ you know, use your power?¡¯ Power? ¡®Yes. Power. That shimmering power to make me stronger, faster, my blade sharper. Power. A familiar¡¯s power,¡¯ Krissintha explained, getting excited again. Sure. Why not? Just bear in mind there is a limit to how much ¡­ well, power I can provide in one go. Also, Akela will be using some of it from time to time. Mostly for hunting. ¡®That¡¯s fine,¡¯ Krissintha said, cusping Akela¡¯s head with both hands, rubbing his cheeks, much to his delight. ¡®Can I try using it? Can I try it now?¡¯ Hold your horses, Krissy, Kenta is waking up. Quenta?¡¯ she asked and looked at the sailors a few paces away. *** Krissintha watched Quenta rubbing the growing beard on his chin. Tommi was just staring at the hell-hound named Akela. ¡®So ¡­ your familiar really went savin¡¯ our asses, my lady?¡¯ Quenta asked finally. ¡®And it¡¯s talkin¡¯ to you? Like properly?¡¯ Tommi asked his own question, a bewildered expression on his face. ¡®Aren¡¯t you forgetting something, Tommi?¡¯ Krissintha asked, leaning closer to the young man. ¡®Uhm¡­ and it¡¯s talkin¡¯ to you? Like properly, my lady?¡¯ he corrected himself. ¡®Better,¡¯ Krissintha nodded. ¡®And yes. He talks, and I can hear him.¡¯ ¡®I went teachin¡¯ ¡®im that,¡¯ Quenta said, elbowing Tommi lightly and puffing his chest out. ¡®I can hear the hound, too. His name is Akela,¡¯ Krissintha said to them, letting Quenta have this small moment of pride. Both men looked down at Akela. The hound stared back at them with its menacing, red eyes, but just as Krissintha was used to the sight now, so were the sailors. ¡®Is the spirit havin¡¯ a name, my lady?¡¯ Tommi asked. Oh, I totally forgot to introduce myself. I¡¯m Kevin. Tell them it¡¯s nice to meet them, too. The spirit said. ¡®His name is Kevin,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®He says ¡­ hello.¡¯ ''Kevin ¡­¡¯ Tommi mused ¡®¡­ I knew a Kevin back home, I think. Weird name, though.¡¯ Did he just say I was strange or something? ¡®Don¡¯t worry about that,¡¯ Krissintha said, waving a hand. ¡®And ¡­ you are strange.¡¯ Uhm ¡­ good to know. ¡®Are you talking to the spirit now, my lady?¡¯ Tommi asked, leaning closer, squinting his eyes as if he could see it, just barely. Krissintha shook her head, glaring at the sailor. Tommi flinched, then straightened his posture. ¡®So ¡­ where are we, my lady? Do you know?¡¯ Quenta asked, looking around. ¡®And what¡¯s the deal with this ¡­ Wensah? Never heard of a god called that. Where are his shrines?¡¯ ¡®Right,¡¯ Krissintha sighed. ¡®Wensah is, and I¡¯m going the quote the spirit word by word, ¡°a colossal bitch, but we owe her our lives.¡± There you have it.¡¯ ¡®He ¡­ went sayin¡¯ that?¡¯ Quenta asked, staring at her with not a small amount of disbelief showing on his face. Krissintha didn¡¯t blame him: she had also been taken aback by the spirit so casually badmouthing a god. Even Tommi was shaking his head. ¡®He did,¡¯ Krissintha said, her shoulders drooping. ¡®Forgive me for sayin¡¯ this, my lady, but your familiar¡¯s weird,¡¯ Quenta said. ¡®What do you want me to tell you? This was the only spirit I could find.¡¯ Krissintha replied, sighing. That¡¯s just rude. Both of you. The spirit interjected. ¡®As to where we are ¡­¡¯ Krissintha continued, ignoring the possibly evil spirit, Kevin ¡®¡­ well, he says the place is called Solace.¡¯ Silence. The two sailors just stared at her with slowly widening eyes. Then they looked at each other, as if trying to decide which of them should be the bearer of some bad news. They knew what this place was, didn¡¯t they? Krissintha sighed. ¡®We have survived a kraken. Twice. I¡¯m ready for bad news, so out with it! You know of this place?¡¯ Krissintha demanded. Quenta nodded, slowly, as if he was still unsure if he should say anything. Krissintha wanted to just grab him by the collar of his worn shirt and shake the answer out of him, but the man finally decided to speak. ¡®So ¡­ uh ¡­ I¡¯ve heard Solace is an island, rather far up north,¡¯ Quenta began. Krissintha felt like screaming and tearing at her own hair. Instead she closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and muttered, ¡®Great. Another island.¡¯ ¡®Well, my lady, the place bein¡¯ an island ain¡¯t the problem,¡¯ Quenta said, Tommi nodding enthusiastically. ¡®What then?¡¯ Krissintha inquired, readying herself for a horrible revelation. ¡®Elves. It¡¯s an island of elves,¡¯ Quenta said, trying to smile at her, but failing. ¡®Why is that a problem?¡¯ she asked. ¡®I¡¯ve heard they don¡¯t like our kind, but they trade with us, don¡¯t they? Surely they wouldn¡¯t hurt or kill us?¡¯ ¡®Yeah, no, my lady,¡¯ Tommi wailed, burying his face in his palms. ¡®We¡¯re doomed.¡¯ Krissintha sighed, looking from one man to the other. ¡®I¡¯m not following. Explain! Why are we doomed?¡¯ Krissintha demanded. ¡®Sitanese elves go tradin¡¯ with humans, no problem. Up north on the mainlands, near the Fentys Alliance,¡¯ Quenta explained, shaking his head. ¡®This is Solace, my lady.¡¯ ¡®So?¡¯ Krissintha prompted him to continue. ¡®Bein¡¯ human ain¡¯t the problem, my lady. Sitanese or Solace, they wouldn¡¯t go hurtin¡¯ us on account of that. At worst they¡¯d be a bit annoyed, and send us on our way,¡¯ Quenta said, his gaze falling on Akela, and then on Krissintha. She still didn¡¯t understand what the sailor was getting at, but the man continued. ¡®The problem is ¡­ well, Solace elves are despisin¡¯ spirits and spiritualists quite enough to go murderin¡¯ ''em.¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ have never heard of this. How do you know?¡¯ Krissintha asked, not wanting to believe it. ¡®Eh, it¡¯s common knowledge up north, my lady,¡¯ Quenta said, shrugging. ¡®But I went hearin¡¯ it from a Sitanese elf. In a pub. At a Voysair port. Buy ¡®em a few drinks, they¡¯ll be talkin¡¯ like you¡¯re one of ¡®em.¡¯ ¡®Yeah, they ain¡¯t great at handlin¡¯ booze,¡¯ Tommi confirmed his fellow sailor¡¯s account of the affair. Krissintha shook her head in disbelief. It was rare to see elves down south in Thyssa, and she¡¯d never seen one herself. She didn¡¯t know much about them, and everything the sailors had told her was new to her. But she still didn¡¯t understand why this was a problem. ¡®Spirits are ¡­ invisible. How would the elves know I have a familiar?¡¯ she asked. ¡®I don¡¯t know, my lady, but the way our luck¡¯s been goin¡¯, I ain¡¯t hopeful,¡¯ Quenta said. Krissintha nodded, hummed and murmured some curses under her breath as she contemplated the new situation she had found herself in. Being a spiritualist was desirable in most parts of the world, at least amongst humans. It was an honour, a privilage and a blessing from the gods ¡ª not to mention expensive. She had never heard of any place where spirits were despised. She had been excited to gain a ¡­ sort of familiar, but now? Would the spirit be the cause of her death? Quenta was right: their luck hasn¡¯t been going great and it wasn''t showing any signs of improving. But there was something else. ¡®Uhm ¡­ Kevin?¡¯ Krissintha called out to the spirit, not knowing where to look when talking to him. Yes, Krissy? I¡¯ve been listening. I think I understood quite a bit. Kevin said. ¡®Right,¡¯ she said, then took a deep breath. ¡®So ¡­ what is it again that this god of yours, Wensah, wants with us? Why did she bring us to Solace?¡¯ Oh, it¡¯s nothing good, I assure you. Anyway. Anyone hungry? Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-six I left it to my humans to find a way off the beach and to go somewhere. Anywhere, really ¡ª we knew nothing about this place. My companions were nervous, but I was rather excited: Krissy hadn¡¯t immediately demanded that I leave her, Akela seemed fine after I¡¯d migrated from him to the girl, and the icing on the cake: elves. Krissy and the others weren¡¯t happy about this development ¡ª they seemed to be somewhat scared of elves, but I was looking forward to seeing one. I only had Kenta¡¯s bad drawings to go on, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether the elves would look like the stereotypical elves I knew from fantasy books and movies, or if they¡¯d turn out to be something different. And what if they didn¡¯t like spirits? Minor issue. Based my own experience, material creatures couldn¡¯t see spirits. I just had to lay low and refrain from using Mana. And if we came across someone who had a familiar? Not an issue either. Familiars apparently didn¡¯t speak to their hosts. At all. Unless they came across a so called ¡°evil or corrupting spirit¡±, in which case they¡¯d demand that their hosts assist in killing it. Apparently I qualified for that role on account of being a Spiritual Tentacle Horror ¡ª which really did explain Jevan and his familiar ¡ª so I had to figure out how to disguise myself as a proper familiar. If I managed to do that, maybe we could meet Wensah¡¯s demand without any of us dying at the hands of angry, pitchfork toting elf villagers rushing to slay the evil, unholy spirit and its companions. I said as much to Krissy, but she just kept walking, grumbling something about how she had thought becoming a ¡°spiritualist¡± would be a different kind of experience, one that wouldn¡¯t result in her imminent demise in the near future. I thought she was just upset that I wasn¡¯t going to let her use Mana until it was safe to do so. Well, I did understand where she was coming from. The beach turned into a grassy field, then the field turned into a forest. Akela felt at home immediately ¡ª I wasn¡¯t an expert on trees, but I thought they were different from what we had on Misery Island, but not that different. And how time was flying when you were having fun: it wasn¡¯t proper autumn yet ¡ª at least I didn¡¯t think it was ¡ª but the crowns of trees were already turning brown and yellow, leaves falling and covering the ground. Quenta found a path ¡ª some sort of animal trail according to my two and a half years of experience in a forest ¡ª and for the lack of a better option and without a destination in mind, we followed it. Quenta didn¡¯t know how large the Island of Solace was, whether it had cities or towns, or how many elves lived here. I was sure we¡¯d find out eventually. Akela was a good scout for us: he rushed ahead, exploring. The thin Essence wires stretched and expanded, drawing Essence and Mana from their pools to add to their length when needed. I could talk with my buddy even when he was at least thirty or more meters ahead of us, and so could Krissy. This was probably the result of both their comm-wires connecting to the same node in my body. I didn''t have a problem with this: it worked like a charm. Krissy had agreed that if the elves were indeed hostile to spiritualists, she should be able to talk to me without opening her mouth. I gave her a short course in how to direct her thoughts at me. So ¡­ is this alright? Can you hear me? She asked, her thoughts ringing in my metaphorical ears. ¡®Perfect. You¡¯ve got the hang of this quickly,¡¯ I complimented her. Alright, good. Now. How do we go about this business for your patron god? ¡®I¡¯m not sure to be honest,¡¯ I said. ¡®According to Wensha it¡¯s not a matter of us finding the corrupting spirit, it¡¯s a matter of whether we can deal with it when it finds us.¡¯ I don¡¯t like the sound of that. Krissy complained. ¡®Me neither, but that¡¯s what she said. If we¡¯re lucky it finds Sivera¡¯s people first.¡¯ I said. I don¡¯t like that either. I never thought I¡¯d be dragged into a rivalry between two gods I¡¯d never even heard of. ¡®Could be worse ¡­ like being kraken-food, for instance.¡¯ I said, chuckling. Ah. It could be worse. You¡¯re right. So, what do we do if the evil spirit finds us? And what do we do if we run into Sivera¡¯s spiritualists? ¡®I don¡¯t know yet.¡¯ I said, flailing my tenties in frustration. ¡®I¡¯d love to make a plan, but Wensah skimped on most of the details. She didn¡¯t even know how many people Sivera sent here.¡¯ So? ¡®So ¡­ we¡¯ll improvise.¡¯ *** By the time we found a river and a clearing near it, the day was coming to an end. We decided to set up camp for the night, and I brought out some of the wooden beams and planks from Jack¡¯s Room. I glued them into a makeshift table and benches so the humans could eat in relative comfort. Then I set up a campfire, brought out leftover canvas pieces and clothes to be used as blankets, and the humans went to sleep. Akela had nothing to report: all he had to say was ¡°forest is forest¡±. He settled down to sleep next to Krissy. Since I didn¡¯t need rest, watch duty was mine. The morning was cold according to Krissy, so I brought out the crate with all the theater costumes, and Kenta and Tommi soon had their own hooded capes. We broke camp ¡ª I took everything back into Jack¡¯s Room, even the burned wood and ashes from the campfire. Kenta insisted that we should leave as few traces of our presence as possible, and I couldn¡¯t argue with that. Then we walked. And walked and walked and walked. Rather slowly. Kenta and Tommy didn¡¯t complain about Krissy¡¯s leisurely pace. They sometimes commented on things or asked the odd question here and there ¡ª I supposed they were just happy to be alive after escaping my tentacled cousin at sea. Akela was running around just as he had been yesterday, calling out prey here and there, asking me to go hunt with him. Akela knew I wasn¡¯t with him any more, despite still being able to talk to me, or use my Mana. I had thought I¡¯d have a harder time keeping him close, but he behaved well, not wandering too far and always coming back to check on us. He seemed to have grown quite attached to Krissy ... or her belly-rubs specifically. I wasn¡¯t an expert, but I thought Akela¡¯s domestication was more or less complete. He wasn¡¯t a pet dog, but he was no longer a wild wolf. I hoped we¡¯d find some wolfs on this island. I wasn¡¯t keen to let Akela go, but a promise was a promise: if he wanted to meet a nice girl and settle down, who was I to stop him? You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. *** This place, Solace, was much larger than Misery Island. The river was four or five times wider than the Thames-Junior. None of us wanted to attempt to cross it, so we just followed it up-stream, hoping we¡¯d find something, maybe a settlement, maybe something else. By the end of the second day a distant mountain range came into view. Kenta estimated it to be at least twenty, maybe even thirty miles away. I asked him to show me ¡ª through a reluctant Krissy ¡ª how long a pace was, how many paces were in a mile, and some quick calculations later I put the local mile down to about 1.1 kilometers. When evening came again, we camped by the riverbank. I started the fire, set up the table and served my humans the same, brined meat and roots as always. ¡®Never thought I¡¯d be eatin¡¯ at a spirit¡¯s table, my lady. And on Solace no less,¡¯ Kenta said, munching on the meat, then added,¡®I¡¯m gettin¡¯ a taste for this meat, though.¡¯ ¡®Huh! I used to work in a restaurant,¡¯ I said, knowing Kenta couldn¡¯t hear me and hoping Krissy would convey my words to him. ¡®If we find ingredients, I can do a lot better than this.¡¯ Krissy, instead of telling the sailor what I¡¯d said, slammed her hands on the table, her eyes widening. I had no idea what had got into her so suddenly. But once she swallowed the food she had in her mouth, she said, ¡®There are restaurants in hell? Kenta and Tommy stopped chewing their food, looking at the girl, startled. ¡®Hell?¡¯ I asked, confused. ¡®I mean ¡­ it was a rough part of town, but I wouldn¡¯t go so far as to call it that.¡¯ ¡®What?¡¯ Krissy asked, her confusion glaringly obvious. Then it struck me that not knowing anything about local mythologies was quite the detriment when it came to conversations such as this. Maybe hell meant something different here than back on Earth. I couldn¡¯t know. I hadn¡¯t told Krissy where I¡¯d come from: as far as she knew, I was just some random spirit. I was fine with that. ¡®So ¡­ you really think I¡¯m from hell? Like an evil spirit?¡¯ I asked her. ¡®You eat souls, you said it yourself. And you have a terrifying hell-hound,¡¯ she said, glancing over at Akela, who was enjoying a juicy boar-leg. ¡®I thought you liked Akela,¡¯ I said, feeling a little offended on behalf of the wolf. ¡®Wait, my lady, your familiar ¡­ is an evil spirit?¡¯ Tommy interrupted us, leaning over the table, his mouth hung open. ¡®Oh, you ain¡¯t gone realisin¡¯ that?¡¯ Kenta asked, pulling the younger man back. ¡®Shush, you two!¡¯ Krissy silenced them, then said, ¡®I like Akela. But a hell-hound is a hell-hound. I thought they weren¡¯t real, you know, just stories.¡¯ ''I been thinkin¡¯ the same right until I first saw ¡®im red-eyed pup over here,¡¯ Kenta said, nodding and reaching down to pet Akela on the head. ¡®Am I to assume it is frowned upon to associate with me then?¡¯ I asked. ¡®To put it mildly.¡¯ Krissy said with a scoff. ¡®Well, in that case you associating with me says a lot more about you then about me.¡¯ I stated, grinning inside. ¡®Would people ¡­ shun you for it?¡¯ ¡®They¡¯d probably kill me for it,¡¯ she grumbled. ¡®Which reminds me: you said other familiars can see you. That¡¯s a problem if we run into spiritualists.¡¯ ¡®I know,¡¯ I said, recalling Jevan¡¯s familiar. ¡®I¡¯m working on a disguise.¡¯ ¡®Uhm ¡­¡¯ Tommy said, gulping ¡®¡­ I¡¯m very much likin¡¯ any spirit that¡¯s helpin¡¯ me stayin¡¯ alive. Could you tell your familiar that, my lady?¡¯ ¡®He can hear you,¡¯ Krissy said to the young man. ¡®Good man, that Tommi.¡¯ I said. ¡®Hm.¡¯ Krissy hummed, then asked, ¡®So how is this ¡­ disguise coming along?¡¯ *** I had assured Krissy my disguise was well on the way, then I spent the night working on my disguise to turn my lie into at least a partial truth. At first I just tried to pull my tenties back, folding them and pressing them against my body, hoping I could look like something else. It didn¡¯t work: a Tentacle Horror was a Tentacle Horror, no matter what. But, with all my tenties coiled around my body, I was rather small, even compared to Jevan¡¯s familiar, who had been almost the size of a human. What I needed was a way to mask myself, something like Trojan Horse made of Spirit-Stuff so I could hide inside it. And that¡¯s exactly what I did. I woke Akela up. He wasn¡¯t thrilled when I asked him to bring me same prey alive, but he went and came back an hour later, dragging a small deer, its neck in his jaws. The deer had long horns instead of antlers, just as I''d expected. I took its body into Jack¡¯s Room, leaving me a decent amount of Spirit-Stuff to work with. I consumed the deer¡¯s soul and immediately mixed some Essence into it before my body could turn into EXP. I had never tried my hands at sculpting, but if Jevan¡¯s familiar ¡ª or my own appearance ¡ª was any indication, spirits didn¡¯t have clearly defined features. All I had to do was to mold the blob of Spirit-Stuff and Essence into a vague shape, add some Mana to fix it, and I had a ¡­ kind of ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. Body suit? No. Costume. Like the mascots in amusement parks. Yeah, that was probably it. I shaped my costume to resemble Jevan¡¯s familiar ¡ª that guy was the only spirit I¡¯d ever seen, not counting Wensah. I still had no idea how that wench was able to appear as a life-like, beautiful woman, every detail from her hair to her dress perfectly done. She did call herself a Grand Spirit, and my humans kept calling her a god, so it sort of made sense that she could do that. I wondered what it would take for me to become a Grand Spirit ¡ª even if the only perks of godhood were looking like a human and being able to come and go as I pleased, then it was worth becoming one. I finished my costume before Krissy and the others woke up. It was a little¡­ crude. It had a torso in which my spherical body could fit, I could cram two of my tentacles into each of the two arms it had and I could move them around a little. With another tentacle I could turn its featureless head around and I could keep the one remaining tentie coiled up inside. It was time to put the costume on ¡ª or to arrange it around myself ¡ª and to have a look at myself. I strectched out one tentacle, twisting its end backward, pointing at myself from a distance of four meters. I focused my vision into the tip of it so I could look at myself. I looked weird. Spiritual matter was invisible to physical creatures, such as my humans. Or Akela. To me ¡ª and to most if not all spirits by extension ¡ª they appeared translucent, like stained-glass or something, depending on color. That meant any spirit would more or less see my writhing little tenties inside the costume, so I decided to make the surface as broken and uneven as I could. The costume ended up looking like it was made of hundreds of small, pale-blue ice crystals and prisms, which made it look very strange, but it hid my tentacled body quite well. The tips of my tenties poked just a few millimeters through the costume so I could see properly, and with that my work was done. I wondered if other spirits would accept or believe if I told them I had a skin condition. But overall I was happy with my spirit-costume, my only complaint that I couldn¡¯t show it to Krissy or Akela ¡ª I really could have used some compliments for my work. *** The next morning we broke camp. I took everything into Jack¡¯s Room, smoldering ashes of the campfire included. We followed the river, same as the previous day, walking mostly in silence until we came across a clearing. Akela had warned us, but curiosity had won, and we decided to take a look at the gruesome sight waiting for us in the clearing. Krissy stared wide-eyed at all the dead animals littering the grassy ground, covering her mouth and nose with the the edge of her poncho-cape-thing. Kenta and Tommy did the same. By the look of it, it¡¯s been days since the animals had died, and I imagined the smell must have been overwhelming. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ Krissy asked, coughing. I wasn¡¯t sure myself. I¡¯d never seen so many slain prey in one place. A couple of deer, some fox looking creatures, a bear, and even some wolves. Akela did not like the scene. Bad. He commented. ¡®What kind of beast goes killin¡¯ and pilin ¡®em up instead of eatin¡¯ ''em?¡¯ Tommy asked, gasping at the sight. ¡®No beast I ever heard of.¡¯ Kenta said. Krissy took a few, cautious steps forward into the clearing, leaving the cover of the trees behind. ¡®Is that safe, my lady?¡¯ Kenta asked, sounding worried. Krissy didn¡¯t reply; she walked forward slowly, looking around. I looked around, too, pushing my tenties through my costume a little more so I could see better. Krissy stopped and looked down. On the ground, next to the corpse of a wolf, lay a long, slightly curved sword. Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-seven Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain had never smelled such a foul, rotten stench in her life. She tried not to think about the things she missed from before all the misfortune had crashed right on top of her head, but she couldn¡¯t help it: scented candles, rose gardens, perfumes ¡­ she could have used some perfume right about now. This was worse than the stale and stinky hold of the Dalar¡¯s Heart. Even the fabric of her cape she was pressing against her nose and mouth wasn¡¯t enough to filter the miasma coming from all the rotting flesh. Akela growled viciously, and it seemed the hound had enough already ¡ª the reeking carcasses probably too much for his sensitive nose ¡ª and he walked away and disappeared among the trees. Krissintha retched just as she wanted to bend down to pick up th discarded sword, her nose screaming in agony, her stomach suddenly roiling and wanting to send its contents back up. She quickly changed her mind and she decided the sword could wait. She followed the wolf¡¯s example and rushed back to the others at the edge of the clearing, hoping it would be slightly more bearable there. Unfortunately the smell wasn¡¯t so considerate as to not follow her all the way. Her eyes were watering already, and Tommi looked like he was about to faint, even though they were at least a dozen paces from the nearest carcass. They had to get out of here, sword be damned. Krissy, try this on! Kevin¡¯s ghostly voice echoed in her mind, and a mask appeared before her ¡ª one of those strange theater masks she¡¯d seen once when opening a crate. So this was where they¡¯d gone. Kevin. ¡®Why? What¡¯s this?¡¯ she asked, peering at the floating mask, trying not to throw up. I made a makeshift carbon filter. I''m not a scientist, but I heard you can use ash, so I mixed some with Mana and Spirit-Stuff and I coated the inside of the mask. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I don¡¯t know what that means,¡¯ Krissintha said, coughing and wishing Kevin would either say things that made sense, or keep quiet. For some reason, this particular evil spirit liked talking. Let me put it on for you. It should help with the smell. The angry looking mask floated up, approaching her face. It looked ridiculous, and she wasn¡¯t sure she trusted the spirit so much as to put it on. ¡®Stop!¡¯ she said, and the mask stopped mere inches from her face. She turned to Quenta. ¡®You put it on.¡¯ Quenta stared at the floating mask with suspicion. ¡®Uhm ¡­ what¡¯s that, my lady?¡¯ the man asked. ¡®Supposed to help with the smell,¡¯ Krissy said, not taking her eyes off the mask. ¡®Can we just go somewhere else?¡¯ Tommi squealed. No! I want to have a look at those dead animals. ¡®Kevin wants to look at dead animals,¡¯ Krissy conveyed the spirit¡¯s words, shaking her head. ¡®Your familiar¡¯s strange,¡¯ Quenta said, still eying the mask. ¡®What do you want me to tell you, Quenta ¡­¡¯ Krissy started to say. ¡®¡­ it was the only one you could find. I know, my lady,¡¯ Quenta said, finishing the sentence for her. He then poked the floating mask with a finger, then looked at Krissintha. ¡®Awright, I¡¯m takin¡¯ it. *** Krissintha could see better than she¡¯d expected ¡ª the eye-holes on the sad, crying theater mask were larger than they seemed. And Kevin had been right: it did help with the smell. Not as much as she would have liked, but her nose was more comfortable with the faint smell of smoke and ash then with the concentrated nastiness emanating from dead, rotten meat. Kevin was useful in a strange and unsettling way, and she hoped she wouldn¡¯t come to regret accepting an evil spirit as her familiar. She looked at the angry mask Quenta wore under his hood, then at the laughing mask that had become Tommi¡¯s fate. Shaking her head, she walked back out into the clearing to collect the sword, the two sailors trudging behind her. She had never trained in swordplay, but she knew that the slightly curved, single-edged blade was not something humans used, at least not in Thyssa. This was perhaps what elves preferred. ¡®How¡¯s this stayin¡¯ on?¡¯ Tommi asked, yanking Krissintha away from her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder as the young sailor behind her was poking the mask sticking to his face. ¡®Dunno. I¡¯m guessin¡¯ the same way The Island Queen was stayin¡¯ in one piece,¡¯ Quenta shared his wisdom with his crew-mate, and Krissintha had nothing to add. As far as she could tell, the man was right. It was spirit-power. She hoped it wouldn¡¯t take a kraken to take the mask off; she had enough of tentacles for a lifetime. ¡®Kevin, have you seen enough?¡¯ Krissintha asked, wanting to leave the place. The sight of a dozen large and dead animals was grating on her, and even though the mask dampened the stench, the urge to be somewhere else was growing. She sighed, admitting to herself that out of her companions, including herself, Akela might have been the wisest, having fled back into the forest. Yes, I have. These animals were all killed by a spirit. ¡®How can you tell?¡¯ Krissintha asked, turning around and starting to walk back to the edge of the clearing, her two servants happily following her. None of them have any wounds. No bites, no cuts, no stabs ¡­ nothing. ¡®A spirit, huh? How did it kill them?¡¯ she asked. It ate their souls. That tends to kill any living creature in my experience, but without the mess. ¡®How very comforting.¡¯ Krissintha scoffed. ¡®Is it the corrupting spirit we¡¯re looking for? Is it nearby?¡¯ Probably. Krissintha reached the tree-line, but she kept walking, stopping only when she couldn¡¯t see the clearing any more. She wasn¡¯t convinced it was far enough and she decided it was too early to take the mask off. Just to be on the safe side. Quenta and Tommi seemed to agree with her and kept their own masks on. Krissintha leaned against a tree and held the elven sword up. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡®Can you take this?¡¯ she asked, and the sword vanished from her hand as soon as the words left her mouth. She then sighed, and said, ¡®Can you explain to me how us killing the evil spirit hinders this ¡­ god, Sivera or whatshername, and her spiritualists? Aren¡¯t we just doing their jobs for them?¡¯ I wish I knew, Krissy, I wish I knew. *** Krissintha walked in silence, Quenta and Tommi following a few paces behind her. None of them had any idea where they were heading, and their hope that they¡¯d find settlements along the river seemed to be a vain one so far. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was a good or a bad thing: she knew that eventually they¡¯d face elves one way or another, but she wasn¡¯t looking forward to it. She had no reason not to believe Quenta¡¯s account of the Solace elves despising spiritualists, and she didn¡¯t want to be the target of their ire. Kevin¡¯s promises that ¡°they¡¯d be just fine¡± did not fill her with confidence. She found it strange how it had been a lot easier to trust the spirit before she could hear him. She guessed that with Kevin¡¯s voice echoing in her head now, some of the mystery of spirits was gone. It was maybe that, maybe something else, she wasn¡¯t sure. But ¡­ a familiar was a familiar, and she couldn¡¯t deny that this evil, corrupting spirit and his hell-hound servant were the reason she was still alive. *** Midday had already passed, and this time none of them wanted to eat lunch, so they kept walking. Kevin made a few, poor attempts at jokes, something about spirits not having a sense of smell. Krissintha didn¡¯t quite understand it and she decided to ignore it. Krissintha stopped and looked around: another, small clearing, tall grass and flowers of all colours covering the ground between the trees and the riverbank. The sailors walked past her, enjoying the beautiful, serene view. Akela was nowhere to be seen ¡ª the hell-hound was probably way ahead of them, looking for something to hunt. She took a deep breath, and for a moment she listened to the sounds surrounding her: the river splish-splashing, birds in the crowns of trees singing, the branches rustling in the breeze. They were quite far from that stinky, horrid place now, and she she thought it was maybe time to take the smoky smelling mask off. She reached up with a hand to grab it, but as soon as she touched it, she heard noises from behind, and at the same time Kevin¡¯s warning rung in her mind with all the urgency his hollow, echo-like voice could carry. Behind you! Krissintha spun around then she froze the instant she saw the long, curved blade an inch away from her throat. She heard footsteps behind her, and a loud gulp from either Quenta or Tommi. Or both. This was the first time Krissintha had seen an elf. He matched the descriptions she had heard: long, pointy ears, steel-gray hair and eyes, and as good looking as they come. If not for the sword the elven man was holding to her throat, she would have been impressed. The elf looked her up and down, then glanced over the hooded, mask-wearing sailors. He said something in a language Krissintha didn¡¯t understand. How many? She sent the thought to Kevin. Two more, holding swords to Kenta¡¯s and Tommy¡¯s throats. Kevin¡¯s answered. The elf man spoke again, repeating what Krissintha suspected was a demand to surrender. Just say the word, Krissy, and the elves are dead. Kevin said, sounding nervous. What? Are you going to eat their souls? Krissintha asked, suddenly more scared of the spirit than the elf holding the sharp looking blade, squinting at her. Uhm ¡­ maybe? But only if they try to kill us for real. Do you think we can talk our way out of this? The spirit inquired. Krissintha took a deep breath, and instead of answering the spirit, she spoke to the elf. ¡®I don¡¯t understand you.¡¯ ¡®Oh? Humans then, huh?¡¯ the elf said, his Treini clear and proper, but with a slight northern accent. ¡®Even so, I think the meaning of a blade to your throat should be clear.¡¯ ¡®Yes. It means you¡¯re rude,¡¯ Krissintha scoffed at the young looking elven man, knowing she shouldn¡¯t be pushing her luck, but unable to resist the temptation. She hoped Kevin could eat fast, in case the elf took offense. The elf¡¯s long, pointy ears twitched, but he otherwise didn¡¯t move. ¡®Rude? I¡¯ll have you know, we are nice and agreeable people,¡¯ he said, scowling at her. ¡®Nice and agreeable people don¡¯t point their blades at people they¡¯ve just met,'' Krissintha argued. ¡®Nice and agreeable people might do so when masked humans show up uninvited,¡¯ the elf argued back, a smile creeping up onto his face. Krissintha felt the smile forming on her own face underneath her mask. This was good. If the elf was willing to engage in banter like this, he probably ¡ª hopefully ¡ª wasn¡¯t intent on killing her. Her father had never said more than a few words to anyone before taking their lives, and those words had always been variations of ¡°Rot in hell!¡±. Or at least that¡¯s what she¡¯d heard from their retainers. ¡®Well, then be nice and agreeable and withdraw your sword,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Listen, human, I am made of pure benevolence, but you caught me on a bad day. Should you be making demands without so much as an introduction?¡¯ the elf demanded. ¡®I am ¡­¡¯ Krissintha began to introduce herself, but Kevin¡¯s voice stopped her. Don¡¯t tell him your name! You trust him already or something? Kevin almost thought-screamed at her. ¡®You are?¡¯ the elf prodded. Krissintha thought about it for a moment. Maybe the spirit was right, but what else could she do other than giving him her name? Not only the elf was asking it ¡ª well, demanding it ¡ª but it was also the polite thing to do. Maybe etiquette was the way to go here. ¡®I am ¡­¡¯ she started again, but stopped, unsure of herself now. Damn that spirit! ¡®So ¡­ you are,¡¯ the elf said, sighing. ¡®I¡¯m glad we confirmed that you ¡­ exist, Misery Mask, but it¡¯s not much for me to go on.¡¯ Misery Mask. She remembered now: that¡¯s what theater-people called the crying mask. Should she be surprised that an elf knew that? She wasn¡¯t sure. ¡®Yes, my name is Misery Mask. You¡¯re good at guessing, Master ¡­ what was your name again?¡¯ she said. Good going, Krissy. The spirit cheered her on. The elf laughed humorlessly. Krissintha heard the shuffling of feet from behind her, but the blade was still at her throat, and she didn¡¯t want to risk turning to look. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just Tommy fidgeting and the other two elves getting nervous. The spirit reported the ongoings. That¡¯s not a good thing, Kevin. Krissy sent her thoughts to him. I can feel Akela coming. Do you want to ¡­ I don¡¯t know, attack? When they¡¯re distracted? Kevin asked. No. I¡¯ll try to talk with the elf. Fine, but Akela is almost here. Kevin said. That¡¯s alright. Let him come. Krissintha said. The elf stopped laughing and said, ¡®You humans really are an audacious lot. What should I do with you, Misery Mask?¡¯ ¡®I suppose I¡¯m lucky you¡¯re made of pure benevolence, Master Elf, so I¡¯d say lunch would be nice,'' Krissintha said, deciding that leaning into the role of the audacious human was the way to go. The elf laughed again, then his face suddenly straightened, and he leaned closer to her, his sword not moving an inch from her throat. ¡®So ¡­ are you a spiritualist, Misery Mask?¡¯ he asked. And here it was. A Solace elf asking the question that would surely lead to her demise. She wanted to scream at herself. Had she just chosen the wrong approach? ¡®What would you do if I said I was?¡¯ she asked, trying to buy some time. Maybe with Akela providing a distraction, they could get away, just as Kevin had planned. ¡®The same thing we do to all spiritualists who wander onto our great and beautiful island without invitation,¡¯ the elf said, grinning from pointy ear to pointy ear. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure if the man¡¯s grin was going to be the last thing she¡¯d ever see, but it seemed Quenta¡¯s information was correct: Solace elves did not tolerate spiritualists. ¡®I don¡¯t want to be killed, so I¡¯m going to say I¡¯m not a spiritualist,¡¯ Krissintha said, sighing. ¡®And here I thought you were a nice and agreeable people, yet you¡¯re threatening to kill me.¡¯ ¡®We are, and I¡¯m not,¡¯ the elf said, looking somewhat puzzled. ¡®You¡¯re not?¡¯ Krissy asked, feeling quite a bit puzzled herself, looking down at the sword at her throat. ¡®Just what is it you think we do to visitors here?¡¯ the elf asked, squinting at her. ¡®Slaughter them?¡¯ The elf scowled and for the first time he moved his sword ¡ª he withdrew it only a few inches from her throat, but it was enough for Krissintha to almost sigh with relief. ¡®Of course not,¡¯ the elf said, sounding rather indignant, offended even. ¡®We take them to the nearest port and put them on the next ship going to the mainlands. Do you think anyone would trade with us if we went around killing everyone coming to Solace? I told you: we are nice and agreeable people.¡¯ ¡®Oh,¡¯ Krissintha said and she couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say. Then she heard the familiar growling of a certain hell-hound, approaching from the treeline on the side. One of the elves shouted something in their own language, sounding rather panicky, and Master Benevolence turned to look at the pitch-dark, red-eyed creature that emerged from the forest. Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-eight Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain watched the hell-hound slowly walking towards her. The elf turned to face the hound, falling into a stance, holding his sword up in front of him. This did not look good. ¡®Misery Mask, that¡¯s ¡­ that¡¯s a hell-hound,¡¯ the elf said, tensing visibly, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. Sword away from her throat finally, Krissintha turned to glance over at Quenta and Tommi; they were fine, the two other elves, a man and a woman, facing the approaching hound, too, looking just as nervous as Pure Benevolence next to her. Prey? Akela¡¯s growly voice came to her. The hound walked slowly, with careful steps, his red eyes fixed on the elf next to Krissintha. Krissintha¡¯s mind worked as fast as it could, but in the end she knew she had no choice but to ¡­ improvise. Maybe. Don¡¯t do anything yet. She sent her thoughts to the hound. ¡®Listen, Misery, ¡­¡¯ the elf said, his voice low, almost a whisper ¡®¡­ that¡¯s the evil spirit. I¡¯m sure of it. We have to ¡­¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t do anything!¡¯ Krissintha instructed the elf, lowering herself to her knees. Alright, Akela, want a good belly-rub? She asked the hound. Belly-rub, good. The hound¡¯s growly and suddenly excited thought came. Akela quickened his pace, heading straight to her. The elf took half a step back, lifting his sword higher, ready to use it. Akela came to a stop in front of Krissintha. She reached out to pet his head. Akela took the pats with glee, but his red, almost glowing eyes were on the elf. Prey? Akela asked again. ¡®No. He¡¯s not prey,¡¯ she said it out loud as well as sending her thoughts to Akela, glancing up at the now frozen, sweating elf. ¡®He¡¯s supposed to be nice and agreeable, isn¡¯t that right, Master Benevolence?¡¯ Fine. Akela said. Krissintha felt warmth spreading inside her chest: finally, for the first time, Akela had accepted her word on a prey-issue without any confirmation from Kevin. The elf just nodded slowly, gawking at the scene in astonishment. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder: was this the kind of face she had made upon first seeing Akela back on Misery Island? But that had been a long time ago. ¡®But ¡­ that¡¯s a hell-hound,¡¯ Pure Benevolence whispered, staring at her. ¡®Yes, he is,¡¯ Krissintha said, smiling beneath her mask. ¡®A servant of the lords of hell,¡¯ the elf said, a little louder. ¡®Yes, he is,¡¯ Krissintha said with a sing-song voice, cupping the hound¡¯s face with both hands. ¡®And he is such a good boy. You¡¯re a good boy, Akela, aren¡¯t you?¡¯ Akela growled a little, pleased with the ruffling of his fur. Krissintha turned to the elf. ¡®Look, I know what you¡¯re thinking,'' Krissintha said to the elf. ''But we, hound included, have nothing to do with the evil spirit that¡¯s loose on your island. But ¡­ it¡¯s probably somewhere close.¡¯ ¡®How do you know about that? Who sent you? Sivera?¡¯ the elf demanded, raising his sword again. Who ¡­ had sent them? That was a good question. Should she just say Wensah? A goddess no-one had ever heard of as far as she knew? She wasn¡¯t sure. Uh, Kevin? Help me out! What do I tell him? Krissintha asked the spirit. Just ¡­ make something up. Say that we¡¯re from ¡­ the ¡­ uh ¡­ Misery Island ¡­ Bureau of ¡­ Spirit Affairs, or something like that. Say we are hunting evil spirits. Don¡¯t mention Wensah yet. Kevin instructed her ¡®We are from the Misery Island Bureau of Spirit Affairs.¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®We hunt evil spirits. We heard there was one around here, so here we are.¡¯ ¡®And you ¡­ go around with a ¡­ hell-hound?¡¯ the elf asked, wary, and still holding his sword at the ready. ¡®His name is Akela. He¡¯s good at finding evil spirits,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®He found me one just a couple of months ago.¡¯ Heh! Good one, Krissy. Kevin commented. ¡®What kind of spiritualist are you?¡¯ the elf asked, not taking his eyes off the the hound. ¡®The kind of spiritualist who can set a hell-hound on you,¡¯ Krissintha said, looking up at the elf, leaning into the role of the audacious, human spiritualist. Well done, Krissy, I think they will back off now. Kevin said. Krissintha stood up, slowly, so as to not provoke the elf into any unnecessary reaction, and she took the mask off ¡ª it came off easily, and she breathed in the fresh air. Oh, how she had missed the clean, forest air, even after just a few hours. Akela sat down, waiting for more pats and ruffles to come his way, but not taking his eyes off the elf. The elf glanced down at the hound, took a long look at Krissintha, studying her face. He didn¡¯t sheathe his sword, but he lowered it, probably a sign of not wanting to start a fight after all. ¡®I¡¯m Tovaron Ento, scout-master second rank, of Fenirig Arte¡¯s Third Rangers,¡¯ the elf said, puffing his chest out with some sort of pride, as if she was supposed to know who or what he was talking about. ¡®I hope you¡¯ll forgive me, but I don¡¯t know what that means,¡¯ Krissintha said, looking the elf in the eyes. ¡®I¡¯m Krissintha, also known as Misery Mask, of the Misery Island Bureau of Spirit Affairs.¡¯ ¡®I hope you¡¯ll forgive me, but I don¡¯t know what that means,¡¯ the elf said. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s talk.¡¯ *** Krissintha sat on soft grass in the middle of the clearing. Akela was enjoying the delivery of the promised belly-rub, resting his head on her lap. Behind her stood Angry Mask Quenta and Jolly Mask Tommi, as if they were her guards. Krissintha knew very little about elves: she knew they were a long lived people, she knew they were faster and stronger than her kind, and that was it. She was sure three shipwrecked wretches wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against a single elf, let alone three. But Akela and the weird, evil spirit pretending to be a familiar gave them an advantage ¡ª an advantage she wasn¡¯t sure how to use yet. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Pure Benevolence ¡ª also known as Tovaron Ento ¡ª sat cross legged a few paces away, facing her, observing the spectacle of a hell-hound acting like a spoiled puppy. Behind him stood the other two elves: a middle-aged looking man and a young woman, eying Krissintha and her companions with suspicion, and if Krissintha¡¯s guessed right, a fair amount of apprehension. ¡®So ¡­ you have nothing to do with Sivera or her spiritualists?¡¯ Tovaron Ento summed it up, having listened to Krissintha¡¯s explanation, most of which had been made up stories of the Bureau hunting evil spirits, the members wearing masks as a matter of course, and assurances that they weren¡¯t here to spread the influence of their patron god. ¡®For the hundredth time, no.¡¯ Krissintha groaned the words. ¡®Have you been listening at all? She wasn¡¯t sure if the elf believed her, but at least this time he didn¡¯t argue. The other two elves didn¡¯t seem to understand Treini, but Tovaron Ento had translated the main points for them. The two of them were eying Akela with more than just a little suspicion. Krissintha wasn¡¯t surprised that the elves regarded the hell-hound as the main threat and problem: unlike the spirit, the hound was very much a visible and imminent disaster waiting to happen. It seemed elves had the same stories and mythologies humans had, and they knew exactly what a hell-hound was. Krissintha wanted to smile: they couldn¡¯t have been more wrong. Akela was a sweetheart. Hey, Krissy, I put the sword in the grass next to you. Show it to him. Maybe he knows whose it is. Kevin said to her. Oh, the elven sword. She had almost forgotten about it. Good idea. Krissntha sent the thought to him. She reached out with her hand, tapping the ground next to her until she found the weapon the spirit had unobtrusively placed in the tall grass. She grabbed it and held it up to the elf. If he was at all surprised at the sudden appearance of the weapon, he didn''t show it. ¡®We have found this sword while investigating a number of slain animals in a clearing,¡¯ Krissintha said. Tovaron Ento took the sword and held it up, looking at it with narrowed eyes. ¡®Where?¡¯ he asked. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure ¡ª navigation wasn¡¯t her thing. She turned to look at the sailors. ¡®Quenta?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Uh, about two hours walk to the east, down-river.¡¯ Quenta said, living up to her expectations. She gave the sailor a smile, then turned back to the elf. ¡®It looks like an elven sword. Perhaps it belongs to a friend of yours?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Ruennen Itora,¡¯ the elf said, scowling. Krissintha thought it might be the name of the owner of the weapon, but she wasn¡¯t sure. One of the other elves, the woman, stepped forward and took it from Tovaron Ento, then stepped back. Krissintha waited for an explanation to come, but Tovaron Ento just stared ahead, still scowling and muttering something she didn¡¯t understand. ¡®So? What¡¯s next? Are you taking us to the port? Put us on a ship?¡¯ Krissintha inquired. The elf snapped back to the present, his eyes flicking to Krissintha, the scowl vanishing from his face. ¡®No,¡¯ he said, shaking his head. ¡®I think Master Fenirig Arte will want to talk to you.¡¯ *** Krissintha walked with Quenta next to her on one side and Tommi on the other. The elf woman was leading the way some half dozen paces ahead, Tovaron Ento and the other man trudging behind them at a safe distance, not taking their hands off from the hilts of their sheathed swords for second, ready to draw in a heartbeat. Akela ¡­ well, Akela was all over the place, running around them, complaining about Kevin ¡ª or Voice as he called the spirit ¡ª not letting him venture ahead to explore and to look for prey. Krissintha wanted to show the elves that she was in control of the hell-hound, and that he was nothing but obedient. Kevin had agreed it was a good idea, but Akela wasn¡¯t making it easy. ¡®My lady, who¡¯s this Master Whatshisname we¡¯re going to see?¡¯ Tommy asked, almost whispering, glancing over his shoulder, peering at the elves following them. ¡®Are they gonna be puttin¡¯ us on a ship?¡¯ ¡®I doubt it,¡¯ Krissintha said, shaking her head. ¡®When someone in authority wants to see you, it means you have something they want. My father had never just summoned people only to send them off right away.¡¯ ¡®So ¡­ what do they want?¡¯ Tommi asked. ¡®Tommi, I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you: do you ever listen to what people are saying?¡¯ Krissintha asked, looking at the man¡¯s Jolly Mask. ¡®I was ¡­ too scared, my lady,¡¯ the man admitted, looking at the ground. ¡®Quenta, explain it to him!¡¯ she said to the other sailor. ¡®Listen mate, the elves here are havin¡¯ some evil spirit on the loose, and Lady Krissintha just went inventin¡¯ a whole organization for huntin¡¯ em bastards down. So what do you think?¡¯ Quenta whispered somewhat angrily. ¡®Oh ¡­ I see. Sorry, my lady.¡¯ Tommi said, bowing his head slightly to Krissintha. ''That¡¯s fine, Tommi,¡¯ she said, making an effort to sound magnanimous even when whispering. Krissintha couldn¡¯t help but smile. Tommi wasn¡¯t stupid, but he was young ¡ª well, older than her but not by much ¡ª so she was more than willing to forgive his inattentiveness. But Quenta? She wasn¡¯t sure how old the man was; in his forties, perhaps? He was experienced, reliable, always quick on the uptake. She didn¡¯t regret her decision to take them on as her servants. It might have actually been the best decision she¡¯d ever made. ¡®But ¡­¡¯ Tommi whispered, scratching his head ¡®¡­ how are we gonna go huntin¡¯ an evil spirit?¡¯ ¡®We have an evil spirit of our own,¡¯ Krissintha whispered back to him. ¡®Does this answer your question?¡¯ Tommi scratched his head even harder, and Krissintha was thankful she couldn¡¯t see the no-doubt confused and lost expression under the Jolly Mask. You¡¯re not going to drop that evil spirit thing any time soon, are you? The spirit¡¯s voice echoed in her head, making her shiver. It was easy to forget that the invisible creature was right there with her, especially when he¡¯d been quiet for some time. It was all the more jarring to suddenly hear his voice after hours of silence. ¡®No,¡¯ she whispered. *** Krissintha was impressed. The road they had just come across after hours of walking was paved with uniformly cut, smoothly sanded stone pieces, and the solid looking stone bridge stretching over the river was nothing like the bridges she had seen in Thyssa. Unlike the stone and wood constructions back home, this was made only of stone, and it seemed the elves weren¡¯t as willing to sacrifice form for function as much as human craftsmen and builders were. Two stone eagles with their wings folded stood on tall plinths on either sides where the road met the bridge, staring intently at those who¡¯d cross the river. The banister railing was tall, its posts carved into the shapes of different trees and plants. Elven sculptors were good, Krissintha concluded ¡ª people here clearly had the time and resources to waste on turning simple function into art. She ¡­ didn¡¯t dislike it. The elf woman walked across the bridge, silently beckoning them to follow. Tovaron Ento and the other elven man followed them, keeping the same distance as before. For a while it was only the forest on either sides of the road, but soon the trees gave way to orderly plots of cultivated land. Krissintha had no idea what the crops and plants were that the elves grew here ¡ª she never had to learn such things. Quenta on the other hand was nodding approvingly. Krissintha though about asking him, but she didn¡¯t want lessons in agriculture at the moment. A settlement came into view, or at least Krissintha assumed it was a settlement. As they got closer, she thought it was maybe a few farmsteads slapped together, rather than a proper village or town. A cluster of buildings stood in the middle, made of the same, light grey stone as the bridge, and just as heavily ornamented with carved plant-patterns, reliefs of different birds embossed about the walls. A scattering of larger stone and wood buildings surrounded this main cluster ¡ª those must have been storehouses or barns, Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure. The settlement had no walls to protect it. Instead, a dozen elves stood guard where the road forked; one prong carrying on towards the still distant mountains, the other immediately becoming the main street of the village-like place. Tovaron Ento rushed forward to speak with the armed elves ¡ª some with swords and spears, some with bows and arrows ¡ª quickly explaining something to them in their own language, pointing at Akela, then at Krissintha. Once the short discussion was concluded, they were all admitted to the village. ¡®Alright, Misery Mask ¡­¡¯ Tovaron Ento said to her. ¡®We are going to see Master Fenirig Arte. Make sure your hell-hound behaves.¡¯ ¡®He will behave. And you may address me as Lady Krissintha,¡¯ she said to the elf. ¡®Uhm ¡­ no,¡¯ the elf said, shaking his head, smiling at her like one would smile at a small child who had just said something stupid but adorable. ¡®On the other hand, you may address Master Fenirig Arte as ¡°Sir¡±.¡¯ ¡®Uhm ¡­ no,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Alright, suit yourself,¡¯ he said, shrugging, a grin forming on his face. Krissintha followed Tovaron Ento to one of the stone houses, the others trudging behind them. The man stopped at the wide, heavily ornamented door and knocked on it. Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Twenty-nine I liked the elves. The young looking elf, Tovaron Ento, was handsome in a way that wouldn¡¯t have been possible for a human ¡ª maybe for some male models or Hollywood actors. His long, silvery-grey hair and the stereotypically long and pointy ears were just ¡­ awesome. The other guy seemed to be a bit older, but he was just as good looking, and the elf woman was basically a goddess of beauty. I liked the elves, and so did my Tentacle Horror instinct: it was nudging me, salivating at the sight of the bronze coloured souls ¡ª they looked appetising, even more so than the teal coloured human souls. Of course I exercised restraint and waited to see what would happen. Maybe, if the elves got serious about killing my humans, I¡¯d have a nibble. Unfortunately ¡ª or luckily, depending how I looked at it ¡ª it turned out that Tovaron Ento spoke the human language, and it didn¡¯t seem like soul eating would be necessary after all. Until Krissy wanted to introduce herself. I stopped her. As much as I liked the elves, I didn¡¯t want them to know who we were, or more specifically, who Krissy was. From what I had managed to piece together over the past few months, I had a more or less clear picture of who Krissy was and how she had ended up with me. I had no idea what connections the elves had on the so called ¡°mainlands¡±, if any, but I didn¡¯t want to risk anyone selling her out to the people who had killed her family and would possibly want her dead, too. Krissy was mine, and I would not let anyone lay a finger on her. When the elf asked Krissy if she was a spiritualist, I knew we needed to have a plausible reason for her to be here. I racked my brain, but unfortunately my imagination was rather limited, and the best idea I could come up with was that we belonged to some obscure organisation that hunted evil spirits. Since the elves seemed to have an ongoing evil-spirit problem, I thought it might just work ¡ª it wasn¡¯t like they could do a quick online search to verify it, and if push came to shove, I would be happy to eat that evil spirit as proof of our claim. Krissy took everything in stride, playing along and lying through her teeth until the elves calmed down. She was good at this. Really good. Had she been born on Earth, I was sure she¡¯d have become an Oscar winning actress. Or a conman. She even managed to sell Akela as an integral part of our fake organisation. I was proud of her. What I wasn¡¯t proud of was our freshly minted Bureau, but for the time being it would have to do. *** The elves took us with them, and we arrived at our destination in the late afternoon. The place was more a hamlet than a village: I counted ten small houses ¡ª cottages, really ¡ª and a number of larger, wooden buildings around the area. I wouldn¡¯t have minded living in a cosy, peaceful looking place like this, but there was something unsettling about the ornamental carvings on the stone walls ¡ª the patterns resembling vines, leaves and tree-branches weren¡¯t to my taste. The presence of a bunch of elves guarding the hamlet was not a good sign: swords, spears, bows and arrows ¡ª they were armed to the teeth. The clothes the elves wore looked fairly modern and normal. White or blue shirts seemed to have been in fashion around here, leather vests or waistcoats, normal looking trousers and boots ¡ª nothing out of the ordinary, really. Our three elves could have been the three musketeers minus the muskets and the musketeer hats. Now that I thought about it, even the tattered, silk dress Krissy had discarded back on my island had looked more modern, an almost Victorian piece rather than medieval. It annoyed me a little that I couldn¡¯t fit things into a single, clear-cut historical period from back home, but all in all, I liked the aesthetics. The three elves led us past the guards of the hamlet, straight to one of the cottages. Tovaron Ento knocked on the door, and I quickly stuck one of my tenties out of my costume and through the door, focusing a part of my vision to the tip of it. An elven man was coming to open the door; he didn¡¯t look particularly dangerous ¡ª having only a small dagger hanging on his belt ¡ª so I didn¡¯t say anything. The door opened, and the man was about to say something to Tovaron Ento ¡ª a greeting perhaps ¡ª when he saw Krissintha, the two masked sailors, and of course Akela. The man flinched, but Tovaron Ento put a hand on his shoulder and explained things to him in their language. The man ushered us all in, then stepped outside and rushed away, shutting the door behind him. Tovaron Ento motioned Krissy and the others to sit on the chairs on one side of the table in the middle of the room, but he himself and his companions remained standing, hands on their swords. Kenta and Tommy sat down, finally taking their masks off, placing them on the table. Akela was nervous ¡ª on Misery Island there had been no such thing as ¡°indoors¡±. The most confined spaces he¡¯d ever been in were cave-like alcoves and large hollows under old trees. Being in a proper room for the first time in his life must have been a daunting experience for him, so I did my best to calm him. Krissy noticed the wolf¡¯s plight, and she opted to settle on the floor so she could rub the mutt¡¯s belly, letting him rest his head on her lap. Akela was getting too used to this kind of treatment in my humble opinion ¡ª and I bore most of the guilt for spoiling him so much. We didn¡¯t have to wait long: the man who had let us in returned, bringing another elf with him. Now this new elf was something else. Unlike all the others I had seen so far, this one didn¡¯t have a lot of hair. His scalp looked like it had been burned in a few spots quite some time ago, and while he had some hair, it was short and white. A couple of long scars ran from his eyes all the way down to his neck. One of his pointy ears wasn¡¯t pointy at all: the tip was missing, looking suspiciously like it had been bitten off. He wore simple black trousers and a white shirt, had a sword at his hip, and that was it. The man was the word battle-hardened made manifest. ¡®Up!¡¯ he yelled in the human language as he entered the room. Tovaron Ento and his two companions snapped to attention. The man who had opened the door for us left in a hurry again. Kenta and Tommy jumped up, and Akela started growling angrily as Krissy clambered to her feet. ¡®Master Fe ¡­¡¯ Tovaron Ento began to say. ¡®Shut it, boy!¡¯ the scar-faced elf barked at him, cutting him short. Then he looked down at Akela, glaring at him for a few moments, then turned his attention back to Tovaron Ento. ¡®I¡¯ll be damned, it really is a fucking hell-hound, and for some idiotic reason you thought it was a good idea to bring it here.¡¯ A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Krissy, for some reason thought it a good idea to speak at that moment. ¡®If I may introdu ¡­¡¯ she started to say and quickly learned that it wasn¡¯t a good idea. ¡®No-one asked you!¡¯ the man snapped at her. ¡®And you will address me as ¡°Sir¡±, and only when I say you can speak. Is that clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ Krissy replied in a very soldier-like manner. Yes. That¡¯s what it was, that¡¯s what this elf reminded me of: a drill sergeant. I¡¯d never been in the military, but I¡¯d watched enough war movies in my time. ¡®Now,¡¯ drill-sergeant elf said to Krissy, his voice rough and snappy. ¡®I don¡¯t care who you are or where you came from. What I care about is whether you¡¯re a threat to Solace or not.¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re not ¡­¡¯ Krissy tried her luck again. ¡®Did I say you could speak?¡¯ the elf growled at her. ¡®No, sir,¡¯ Krissy said, standing at attention, a bead of sweat rolling down her face. The elf walked around the table, took the chair and sat down, facing all of us. ¡®Now, Toven,¡¯ he addressed Tovaron Ento, still speaking in the human tongue, probably out of consideration for us. ¡®Care to tell me about this latest stupidity of yours?¡¯ Tovaron Ento gulped, then began to tell the tale of our meeting. The elf ¡ª whom I suspected was the one and only Master Fenirig Arte he had mentioned back at the clearing ¡ª listened, nodding and humming. When the young elf gave him the sword we¡¯d found, his face darkened, and I could see him making a gargantuan effort to hold his rage and pain in check. Then I noticed something strange about his soul. It was a bronze coloured soul, just like those of the other elves, but ¡­ it was damaged. Not badly, but I could see a couple of ¡­ bitemarks, maybe? Souls took the same shape as the body they belonged to ¡ª a perfect spiritual replica. But his soul had dips in it on one of his arms and on his neck, as if someone or something had scooped some of it out. I wiggled one of my tenties closer to the man, trying to take a better look at the damaged parts, and I saw something else. His soul ¡ª like any other soul ¡ª had the node clusters a spirit or a familiar could connect itself to. It wasn¡¯t easy to see, but I noticed that many of them had strands of Essence wires attached to it, leading from the nodes to the edge of his soul, then terminating there as if they¡¯d been cut to prevent them from hanging out into the open. I looked at Akela. Two of his node clusters were connected to me, but the others had the loose wires I¡¯d left there after severing the connections on my end. They weren¡¯t doing anything, and they didn¡¯t seem to harm or hinder Akela in the slightest, so I hadn¡¯t removed them. This was interesting: I was one hundred percent sure that the drill-sergeant used to have a familiar at some point, but for one reason or another, he didn¡¯t any more. ¡®Krissy, listen, I don¡¯t know if this is useful information or not, but this elf here used to be a spiritualist or watchacallit, but the familiar¡¯s gone. Even his soul is slightly damaged.¡¯ I explained my findings to Krissy. Uh ¡­ maybe useful, I don¡¯t know. This man is scaring me. Krissy complained. ¡®Don¡¯t worry too much, I think we¡¯re safe for now.¡¯ I said to her. She seemed to relax a little, her rigid posture loosening, but still standing at attention like a grunt in the barracks in the presence of an officer. ¡®Alright.¡¯ Fenirig Arte said when Tovaron ¡°Toven¡± Ento finished his account of events. The man turned to Krissy. ¡®So ¡­ Misery Mask. We don¡¯t like your kind around here. Not humans. Spiritualists.¡¯ Krissy stiffened again, exhaled shakily, then said, ¡®You ¡­ used to be a spiritualist yourself, sir,¡¯ The elf snapped his head to glare at Tovaron Ento. The young man just shrugged, shaking his head. ¡®Perhaps you have heard of me then?¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, turning his head back to Krissy. ¡®Uh, no sir, I haven¡¯t,¡¯ she said. ¡®But I¡¯m told your soul is damaged, and there are signs of a lost familiar.¡¯ ¡®Who told you that?¡¯ the man snarled the question, scowling at Krissy. ¡®My familiar, sir,¡¯ she answered. ¡®You¡¯re a fucking monk then. Which shrine are you from? Who¡¯s your patron god?¡¯ ¡®Not a monk, sir,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®We¡¯re from the Misery Island Bureau of Spirit Affairs. We don¡¯t have monks ¡­ but I fulfil a ¡­ somewhat similar role.¡¯ ¡®Does this Bureau of yours have a patron god?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Wensah.¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Never heard of a Wensah.¡¯ ¡®You didn¡¯t lose out on much, sir. She¡¯s a complete bitch,¡¯ Krissy said, her eyes twitching. I approved of her description of Wensah ¡ª I was the one who had told her after all. The scary, scar-faced elf burst into raspy laughter, and it took long seconds for him to calm himself. ¡®Huh! Disdain for you own god? I like that,¡¯ he said, still chuckling in a scary way. Then he looked at Akela, and asked, ¡®So, you said your little hell-mutt is capable of finding evil spirits?¡¯ ¡®He can sniff them out sometimes.¡¯ Krissy said. It was a lie but at the same time it wasn¡¯t necessarily untrue either. Akela had a fantastic sense of smell. He couldn¡¯t sniff out a spirit, but he could definitely sniff out animals the spirit may be attached to. ¡®So. Tell me then! What is it that your Bureau and your bitch-of-a-god want?¡¯ he asked. Krissy took a deep breath and told the man the same story she had told Tovaron Ento, adding a few more details, such as our intent not only to find and kill the evil spirit but to investigate and possibly hinder Sivera¡¯s spiritualist in whatever it was they were doing. Fenirig-Arte listened without interrupting Krissy, sitting cross armed, his cold, silvery blue eyes fixed on her. It reminded me of how Akela watched his prey. He wasn¡¯t only scaring Krissy and the sailors; he was scaring me, too, and I was spirit. Krissy finished her speech. Fenirig Arte hummed a few times, then sighed. ¡®Alright,¡¯ he began. ¡®I do not care for your organisation, but we have an evil fucking spirit on the loose so I can¡¯t be picky. You, girl, will help us find it and kill it. Then I might allow you to board a ship and go back to the Mainlands. Do you understand?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ Krissy said. I felt one of my tentacles twitching, wanting to perform a salute. The man continued, looking at Krissy as if he was ready to kill her. ¡®If I catch you trying to sell the idea of a shrine even to a frog in the forest, I will flay you alive. If I catch you helping Sivera¡¯s spiritualists doing the same, I will burn the flesh off your bones. If I catch you doing anything that pisses me off even a little, I will chop you up and shove the pieces up your hell-hound¡¯s ass. Is that clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®And you, Toven,¡¯ the man said, turning to the young elf. ¡®You and your team are in charge of these mask-wearing torture-jesters, so bring them up to speed on what¡¯s going on. And you will make damned sure they don¡¯t do anything stupid, because if they do, you will find yourself sitting in a cauldron of boiling horse-shit. Is that clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Tovaron Ento barked the words, snapping to attention again. ¡®Good,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said. ¡®Now that we¡¯re all friends, go and do some work!¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ humans and elves chorused the words. Fenirig Arte stormed out of the building, shutting the door behind him. ¡®Uhm ¡­ what was that about nice and agreeable people?¡¯ Krissintha asked, turning to Tovaron Ento. ¡®It¡¯s true,¡¯ the elf said, holding his hands up defensively. ¡®Master Fenar is ¡­ an exception.¡¯ The door swung open again. Everyone looked. Fenirig Arte stood half a step outside the open doorway, snarling like a wolf, glaring at Tovaron Ento. ¡®Call me Fenar again and I will personally feed you to the evil spirit!¡¯ he said, accentuating every word. Tovaron Ento gulped, but before he could say anything in his defense, the older man slammed the door shut. Well, he has exceptional hearing, I¡¯ll give him that. I said to Krissy. Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty I didn¡¯t dislike that elf, Fenirig Arte. He scared me a little, but I was sure he had no intention of harming Krissy or the others ¡ª well, as long as he considered us useful. He seemed to be the constantly angry, no-nonsense military type, and those usually got the job done, whatever the job was. And he had just delegated a job to our fake Bureau. I was having second thoughts about posing as members of something that didn¡¯t exist, but it was too late. Well, it was what it was, and we just had to deal with it. Tovaron Ento and the two other elves sighed with relief as Fenirig Arte left for real this time. ¡®So ¡­¡¯ Tovaron Ento began, but then stopped. It seemed he wasn¡¯t sure what to say, but Krissy looked at the sailors, then at the two other elves, and came to the rescue. ¡®Introductions?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Yes,¡¯ the man said immediately, then gestured to the other elf man. ¡®This is Kerabal Aven, or Kerav,¡¯ he introduced him, then gestured at the elf woman. ¡®And this is Ardeela Erini. You can call her Arde. They don¡¯t speak Treini, so if you have something to say to them, I¡¯ll translate.¡¯ Kerav just nodded his head to us. ¡®I ¡­ am ¡­ learning Treini,¡¯ Ardeela Erini said, looking like it was causing her pain to say the words. I felt for the elf woman. The language the humans spoke, Treini, wasn¡¯t easy ¡ª it had taken me the last two and a half, almost three months to learn enough to be ¡­ well ¡­ conversational, and there was always more to learn. I silently wished her the best of luck. Krissy introduced Kenta and Tommy, and with that out of the way they all sat down at the table. Tovaron Ento pulled out a map from his bag, unfolded it on the table, then began to bring us up to speed. The map was of the Island of Solace. It was hand drawn map and it didn¡¯t have a scale bar to help work out distances. Still, I could tell Solace was a country sized island. I saw markings for several cities and towns, mostly in the north and north-west, even a couple of port towns with drawings of ships. ¡®This is where we are,¡¯ Tovaron Ento pointed at spot in the south where there was nothing much, save for a few dots that probably indicated smaller towns of villages. Then he put a finger on another spot further to the south-west. ¡®This is where we think the evil spirit appeared roughly a month ago. It¡¯s hard to tell for sure. It has been killing wild animals, livestock, people, and it¡¯s constantly moving. That sword you found belonged to Ruennen Itora. His team has been missing for days. Now we¡¯re almost certain they¡¯re dead,¡¯ he said, Kerav and Arde nodding grimly. Toven then circled a large area with his fingers. ¡®We think it¡¯s roaming these parts, so we¡¯ll head there tomorrow morning and start looking for it again. Every farm and village in the area have been evacuated, just like this one, so we¡¯ll only see Master Fenar¡¯s rangers.¡¯ ¡®Didn¡¯t he tell you not to call him that?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®He¡¯s not here, is he?¡¯ Toven countered, grinning. ¡®Looks like a large area,¡¯ Kenta said, eying the map. ¡®It¡¯s gonna be takin¡¯ us a while.¡¯ ¡®Dozens of teams are searching as we speak.¡¯ Toven said. ¡®Sivera¡¯s spiritualists are out there, too, but who knows what they¡¯re up to.¡¯ ¡®Ask him how they usually get rid of evil spirits without spiritualists,¡¯ I said to Krissy. ¡®I imagine it¡¯s not easy.¡¯ Krissy asked him. ¡®Well, the last time one appeared, it was Sivera¡¯s people who killed it,¡¯ Toven explained, then added, ¡®We had a hard time kicking them out of Solace after that. They¡¯re an arrogant bunch, and for some reason they think they can build a shrine and start recruiting here just because they helped a little.¡¯ ¡®How do you deal with an evil spirit without spiritualists?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®We can¡¯t kill it, obviously, so we isolate it.¡¯ Toven said. ¡®How?¡¯ ¡®We kill its corrupted host so it can¡¯t move. That¡¯s the easier part. Then we basically guess how far the spirit can reach, double that number, then build a stone wall around it and fill it with pitch. It can¡¯t take another host if no animals can get near it.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s pretty damn clever,¡¯ I said to Krissy. ¡®If they know the spirit¡¯s reach, then a big enough pitch-filled room will trap it for all eternity.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s clever,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®It is,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said. ¡®So how would you kill it? I heard it takes three or four spiritualist, and that¡¯s if the host is dead.¡¯ Kevin? Krissy¡¯s thought came to me. ¡®I think ¡­ I¡¯d probably eat it,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®My familiar can handle it,¡¯ Krissy said to the elf. ¡®Alright, Misery, if you say so,¡¯ the elf said, sighing, apparently not convinced. Then he turned to Kerav and Arde, saying something in their own language. The two left through a smaller door, going to another room. Toven turned to Krissy and said, ¡®We¡¯ll have something to eat, then we rest, and tomorrow we go hunting. There is a room upstairs you can use, but please don¡¯t leave the house and don¡¯t do anything stupid, or we¡¯ll all pay the price.¡¯ Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. *** Elven food looked ¡­ normal. I suspected the bread and dry jerky were military rations or thereabouts, rather than true representatives of elven cuisine. My humans didn¡¯t complain though, in fact they enjoyed it quite a bit. I wasn¡¯t surprised: for them this was the first meal in three month that wasn¡¯t brined meat and bitter roots. I wasn¡¯t interested in the jerky ¡ª Akela seemed to like it a lot though, and Tovaron Ento had given him a generous portion ¡ª but I really wished I could have tasted the bread. It was a brown bread, perhaps rye or its local equivalent, but it looked good. Once they all finished dinner, the elves showed us to our room, and left us there. I stuck my tenties out of my spirit-costume, stretching them out to their full five meters, going through the door and walls. I divided my sight between them, concentrating it on the tip of each tentacle, and I had a look. As nice and agreeable as the elves turned out to be, they didn¡¯t seem to trust us any more than I trusted them. Five guards stood outside the house, carrying spears and bows, chatting quietly in their language, probably gossiping about us. Two guards ¡ª one of them Ardeela Erini, the other someone I¡¯d not seen before ¡ª sat on chairs at the end of the corridor from which our room opened, both fully armed. Our room was small and had four beds. All three of my humans murmured silent prayers of thanks to whichever god they deemed responsible for this good fortune, and they all jumped on the soft mattresses, grinning as if they had found themselves in heaven. Akela climbed up onto the fourth bed, then he decided he didn¡¯t like it and settled down in one of the corners of the room. Kenta and Tommy fell asleep quickly. Akela kept fidgeting for a few minutes, then he fell asleep, too. The single window of the room was above Krissy¡¯s bed. The girl lay on the bed, her eyes open, staring up at the light of the rising moon glinting off dust particles in the air. She was deep in thought, it seemed. ¡®What¡¯s up, Krissy? What are you thinking about?¡¯ I asked her. She turned her head to glance over to the sailors ¡ª both asleep and snoring. ¡®I don¡¯t know. Nothing. Everything,¡¯ Krissy whispered. She had been through a lot, and imagined she had a lot to think about. I wasn¡¯t sure if prying further was a good idea, but I thought she could at least use some encouragement. ¡®You¡¯ve done very well, Krissy,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®I think you¡¯ll be just fine when we start hunting tomorrow.¡¯ ¡®Maybe,¡¯ she whispered. ¡®But what about after tomorrow? And after that? I have no idea what we¡¯re doing or why. I ¡­ want to go home, to Thyssa.¡¯ ¡®To look for your brother?¡¯ I asked, recalling the things she had said during our short lived voyage. ¡®You understood what I told Quenta?¡¯ she asked, and didn¡¯t wait for my answer. ¡®Yes. I want to find my brother. If he¡¯s alive. Instead, we¡¯re here, doing who knows what.¡¯ ¡®For now we¡¯re just doing what Wensah wants,¡¯ I said. ¡®But once we¡¯re done ¡­ ¡®You know, we only have your word on this,¡¯ she said, interrupting me. ¡®None of us saw this goddess of yours.¡¯ ¡®Trust me, she¡¯s real, and a real pain in the ass,¡¯ I said. ¡®Alright. Then there¡¯s ¡­ you, Kevin,¡¯ she said. ¡®You talk a lot for a spirit, but I still don¡¯t know anything about you. You keep saying you¡¯re not an evil spirit, but ¡­ I think you are. And I don¡¯t know what you want, or what you¡¯re after. I¡¯m thankful to you for helping us, but ¡­ should I be worried that you¡¯ll drag me to hell or eat my soul sometime soon? Or Quenta¡¯s? Or Tommi¡¯s?¡¯ I had been expecting her to ask these questions sooner or later. I hadn¡¯t been doing a good job putting myself in her shoes, but based on what I¡¯d learned about spirits, I wasn¡¯t surprised that she was worried. I would have preferred not to talk about it, but guessed I had no choice if I wanted to put her at ease. ¡®Alright Krissy, I admit: I am what you call an evil spirit.¡¯ I said. ¡®But I haven¡¯t always been.¡¯ Krissy stayed silent for a few moments, then asked, ¡®What were you?¡¯ ¡®Human. Like you.¡¯ I said. Krissy¡¯s eyes widened, and she sat up on the bed. ¡®What? How?¡¯ ¡®Well, it was Wensah¡¯s doing. I was killed, she plucked my soul out of my dead body, then she worked it into the spiritual body of an evil spirit. That¡¯s how. Then she dumped me on Misery Island, and left me there alone. It was almost three years ago.¡¯ ¡®Is ¡­ something like this even possible?¡¯ she asked, gasping. ¡®For someone like Wensah, I suppose it is. I am here, aren¡¯t I?¡¯ I said. ¡®So when I say I¡¯m an evil spirit, it¡¯s both true and not true. Uhm ¡­ picture it like this: the soul of a dead human puppeteering the body of an evil spirit. I think that¡¯s close enough.¡¯ Krissy thought about this for a moment, sitting on her bed, her eyes flicking left and right. Then her eyes widened, and her face took on a panicked look. ¡®Oh no!¡¯ she whisper-yelped. ¡®Oh no what?¡¯ ¡®You ¡­ you¡¯re human. You¡¯re a man,¡¯ she gasped. ¡®That¡¯s what I said.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re a man ¡­ and ¡­ you¡¯ve been sitting on my shoulder, watching ¡­ every time I ¡­ cleaned myself or ¡­ relieved myself,¡¯ she stuttered, absolutely horrified out of a sudden. ¡®Hold on, Krissy, hold on, let¡¯s stay on topic, shall we?¡¯ I said, finding myself in a panic now. ¡®We are on topic,¡¯ she squealed quietly. ¡®This is ¡­ this is ¡­ bad. Very bad.¡¯ ¡®Oh, so evil spirit is bad, but human is also bad? What do you want me to be, then?¡¯ I groaned. ¡®I don¡¯t know. Not ¡­ this,¡¯ she said. Suddenly I didn¡¯t know what to say. I had been killed, I had been re-born as a weird spirit with tentacles in another world, and I still had to experience a phenomenon my married friends back on Earth had warned me about: it was called ¡°There¡¯s no pleasing a woman¡±. Regardless, I tried to explain to her that I had died and wasn¡¯t really a human any more, therefore the bodily functions of members of my former race were no longer of any interest to me. Krissy ¡ª after long minutes of complaining about the indignation I had apparently been subjecting her to ¡ª finally fell asleep. *** The next morning I kept quiet, not saying a single word, pretending I wasn¡¯t even there. Krissy however was unusually shy when she went to wash herself ¡ª she even called out to me to warn me not to peek. I hoped that my silence would both put her at ease and annoy her. After breakfast we got ready. I brought out the spear from Jack¡¯s Room, the one I had looted from the cuirass wearing pirate, and gave it to Kenta. I offered Jevan¡¯s sword to Tommy, but he said he wasn¡¯t good with a sword, and he took Jevan¡¯s small daggers instead. Krissy didn¡¯t want to carry the sword either; I didn¡¯t have its sheath, and Krissy said I could just make it appear in front of her if needed. Tovaron Ento, Ardeela Erini and Kerabal Aven were ready and waiting for us, armed with swords, daggers and bows, their small shoulder-bags packed with provisions. They looked at us with suspicion and disapproval, asking Krissy where Kenta¡¯s spear and Tommy¡¯s daggers had come from, and why we hadn¡¯t packed any provisions from the kitchen. Krissy assured the elves that we had everything we needed, and we shouldn¡¯t waste time discussing unimportant things. Tovaron Ento just sighed, muttering something in their elven tongue that I suspected to be curses, and we were ready embark on our little journey to hunt down the evil spirit plaguing the elves of Solace. Chapter Thirty-one Chapter Thirty-one Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain had thought nothing could surprise or scare her any more ¡ª not after all that had happened, after all she¡¯d been through. She knew she was wrong the moment the evil spirit masquerading as her familiar had revealed he had been human once. She was embarrassed about how she had reacted ¡ª she knew that in the grand scheme of things the first concern that had popped into her mind was less than inconsequential. She should have been just happy that her soul was safe from hell, at least for the moment. Kevin was, or had been, a human. She wasn¡¯t sure if this was good or bad. Humans were better than evil spirits, weren¡¯t they? Then again, it wasn¡¯t an evil spirit that had slaughtered her family: a human had given the order and humans had carried it out. And it had been humans who had betrayed her, trying to sell her into slavery. Kevin hadn¡¯t said a word the whole morning ¡ª either out of consideration or spite, she wasn¡¯t sure. But for the first time in her life, she found herself entertaining a certain thought: perhaps she should apologise. But no. There was nothing to apologise for ¡ª anyone would have reacted the way she had. ¡®Hey, Misery, watch where you¡¯re going!¡¯ Tovaron Ento¡¯s voice snapped Krissintha back to the here and now. She stopped, looked up, seeing the tree she had nearly walked into. ¡®Uhm ¡­¡¯ she said, looking around, embarrassed once again. This was not good. She hadn¡¯t survived numerous attempts on her life ¡ª including two krakens ¡ª just to walk into a tree like some drunkard into a doorpost. The elf shrugged, then walked past her, catching up to his companions as they followed the forest path they were on. ¡®My lady? Is somethin¡¯ wrong?¡¯ Quenta asked, stopping next to her, looking worried. Tommi stopped as well, but didn¡¯t say anything. ¡®I¡¯m fine,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®I was just lost in thought, that¡¯s all.¡¯ ¡®Well, I hope you don¡¯t mind me sayin¡¯ my lady, but focusin¡¯ might be a good thing to do,¡¯ Quenta said, trying not to look her in the eyes. ¡®There¡¯s supposed to be an evil spirit around here.¡¯ Tommi gulped, and Krissintha couldn¡¯t help but smile at that. Soon they left the relatively wide path, venturing deeper into the forest. The elves seemed to know where they were going: they spread out, keeping some distance between themselves, and Krissintha sometimes could only see one of them among the trees. She and the two sailors on the other hand, walked almost right next to each other, and Akela ¡­ well, he was nowhere to be seen. The hound had gone ahead, who knows where, only the occasional thoughts from him letting Krissintha know he was alright. The elves didn¡¯t talk, but they made weird, bird-like sounds quite frequently. She thought this was just how elves did things. Occasionally, maybe once every hour, they crossed paths with other teams of elven rangers. Tovaron Ento would talk with them for a minute, then they¡¯d go on their way. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure how the ranger teams operated, but Quenta¡¯s guess was that the elves had set overlapping patrol routes or some other search patterns. She wasn¡¯t sure what these rangers were, though. Military? Or adventurers? Or something else? She though maybe she¡¯d ask Tovaron Ento some time. They reached a small clearing with a narrow brook cutting through it. Kerav and Arde stopped at the edges, some twenty paces from each other. Krissintha walked closer to the brook with Quenta and Tommi in tow. ¡®Misery!¡¯ Tovaron Ento approached her, not looking happy. ¡®Yes?¡¯ she said, kneeling down at the brook to ladle some water with her hands. ¡®You know I¡¯m nothing but nice and agreeable, but I have to ask,¡¯ he said. ¡®Do you actually know how to fight an evil spirt? Or ¡­ at all?¡¯ Krissintha though about it for a moment, then said, ¡®No.¡¯ ¡®Great,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, burying his face into his hands. ¡®You¡¯re all going to die.¡¯ Krissintha stood and shrugged. ¡®Fighting spirits is my familiar¡¯s job,¡¯ she said, then glanced over to the sailors. ¡®And Quenta knows how to use a spear.¡¯ ¡®I can go pokin¡¯ at things with it, but I¡¯m a sailor, my lady,¡¯ Quenta said, inspiring very little confidence. ¡®You know, I wouldn¡¯t normally consider this to be my problem,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, giving Krissintha a look a look of distress. ¡®But I have a feeling that when the time comes you¡¯d die and drag us down with you somehow.¡¯ ¡®How so?¡¯ Krissintha asked, pretending to be shocked and offended in equal measure. But she knew the elf had a point. Quenta and Tommi were sailors, not fighters or soldiers. They could probably come out on top in a brawl at a tavern, but she had no illusions as to how they¡¯d fare against an evil spirit and whatever host it would have. Krissintha herself had never trained to fight; that used to be her brothers¡¯ duty. If she had to defend herself just with the sword Kevin had taken from her traitorous retainer, she could count on one hand how many seconds she¡¯d last. And that was against another person. An evil spirit? The only thing she could rely on was her own evil spirit. ¡®You make a lot of noise when you walk,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, shaking his head. ¡®That spirit will find you before you find it. And since the three of you are walking all bunched up, if it gets one of you it gets all of you.¡¯ ¡®Oh,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Why didn¡¯t you say something sooner?¡¯ The elf just shook his head and turned and pointed at a tree at the edge of the clearing. ¡®See that tree? The mark on it?¡¯ he asked. Krissintha looked, squinting her eyes, and now that it had been pointed out to her, she could see a couple of red marks on the tree ¡ª some sort of elven letters or numbers. Tovaron Ento reached into his bag and produced a small vile of red something, paint or dye perhaps, holding it up for her to see. ¡®Markings wear off in about a day. Red runes tell you which team went through here and that there was no danger at the time. If you see a yellow mark, it means the team had found something and are following it. Have you not seen them all along the path we took?¡¯¡¯ Krissintha felt embarrassed for the third time in such a short time: she had not seen the markings, they weren¡¯t that easy to notice. She was about to make some excuses such as elves having better eyes, but she thought better of it and said, This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡®Alright, I¡¯ll ¡­ keep it in mind. Anything else?¡¯ ¡®You said you and your ¡­ what was it ¡­ bureau? Hunt spirits,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, sighing. ¡®But ¡­ have you actually done it before, or is this your first time?¡¯ ¡®Yes,¡¯ Krissintha said, realising that if they kept this conversation up, every other sentence leaving the elf¡¯s mouth would bring her more and more embarrassment. ¡®Yes you¡¯ve done it before, or yes this is your first time?¡¯ he demanded. ¡®Yes,¡¯ Krissintha said. Alright, let me just weigh in here. Kevin¡¯s voice suddenly rang in Krissintha¡¯s mind. ¡®Oh, so ¡­ we¡¯re talking now?¡¯ Krissintha asked, sneering. ¡®What?¡¯ the elf asked, looking confused. ¡®No, sorry, I¡¯m talking to my familiar.¡¯ The elf just shook his head, mumbling something about damned monks and shrines. Yeah, we are. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m angry with you or anything. Kevin said. Alright ¡­ I ¡­ may have reacted inappropriately yesterday, but it was ¡­ quite a revelation. Krissintha sent her thoughts to Kevin. Apology accepted, it¡¯s water under the bridge now. So, tell Mister Pure Benevolence here that we don¡¯t intend to fight at all. That¡¯s their job and we¡¯ll stay out of their way. But once the host is down, I will eat the spirit. Kevin said. Krissintha relayed the message, replacing the words ¡°eat the spirit¡± with ¡°dispose of it¡±. Tovaron-Ento rubbed his chin, thinking about it. ¡®Alright, that suits me just fine, but ¡­ are you sure a single familiar can do it alone?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Kevin is confident he can do it,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Kevin?¡¯ the elf asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡®My familiar. His name is Kevin,¡¯ she said. ¡®Huh. First I¡¯ve heard of a familiar with a name,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said. ¡®Fenirig Arte has never mentioned something like this, and he knows a lot about gods and spirits. That¡¯s why he hates them.¡¯ ¡®I thought he hates everybody.¡¯ Krissintha said, recalling their brief but intense exchange the previous day. ¡®That¡¯s probably true,¡¯ Tovaron Ento admitted, a smile growing on his face. ¡®But he has a special spot for spirits in his dark heart. Anyway, five more minutes of rest, then we¡¯ll go,¡¯ the elf announced and left to discuss something with his team. *** Krissintha was straining her eyes, looking for the red marks on the trees as she was trudging after the elves. The forest canopy only let a fraction of the sunlight through, making it difficult to see the markings in the constant twilight. The elves were at least a dozen paces ahead, or more, spread out as usual. Krissintha hadn¡¯t seen Akela for a while ¡ª he was probably even further ahead. Quenta and Tommi were keeping a distance from her and from each other now ¡ª not as much as the elves, but it was clear they both thought there was merit in Tovaron Ento¡¯s advice. ¡®There¡¯s one. Right there,¡¯ Tommi whispered loudly and excitedly, pointing at a tree. Krissintha turned to look and she could vaguely see the red, elven characters brushed onto the trunk of the tree. So ¡­ red mark, which meant other elves had passed through here less than a day ago, finding no danger so far. That was good. ¡®These elves know what they¡¯re doin¡¯,¡¯ Quenta commented. ¡®I¡¯m thinkin¡¯ those bird sounds they¡¯re makin¡¯ every minute is to let each other know they¡¯re fine. If one of ¡®em stops doin¡¯ that, it means the spirit got ¡®em.¡¯ ¡®That ¡­ makes sense,¡¯ Krissintha said, nodding. ¡®Should we start doing it, too?¡¯ ¡®No, my lady, it¡¯s better if we stick together just a bit closer than the pointy-ears,¡¯ Quenta said. ¡®I ain¡¯t good at makin¡¯ bird-noises anyway.¡¯ ¡®I can go makin¡¯ a seakite sound, but that¡¯s it,¡¯ Tommi said. ¡®I don¡¯t think there¡¯s seakites here, though.¡¯ ¡®No Tommi, there aren¡¯t,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®So, my lady, can ¡­ uh ¡­ Kevin really go killin¡¯ the evil spirit?¡¯ Tommi inquired. ¡®I mean he¡¯s ¡­ one himself, ain¡¯t he? What if we go findin¡¯ this other one and it turns out they¡¯re friends or something?¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t worry about that, Tommi. Kevin will eat that spirit,¡¯ Krissintha said. Tommi gulped. ¡®Hungry little bugger, that Kevin, ain¡¯t he?¡¯ Quenta remarked, but then added, ¡®As long as he ain¡¯t eatin¡¯ us.¡¯ ¡®Kevin says he¡¯s feeling hurt that you would think he¡¯d eat us. He says he considers us his friends,¡¯ Krissintha said, relaying her familiar¡¯s words. ¡®Friends?¡¯ Quenta said, raising his eyebrows, then he smiled. ¡®Well, my lady, please tell ¡®im that I¡¯m happy with that, so ¡­ friends we are.¡¯ ¡®He can hear you,¡¯ Krissintha reminded him. ¡®Oh ¡­ uh ¡­ my lady ¡­¡¯ Quenta stopped, looking around and squirming as he stood ¡®Is ¡­ Kevin patting my back?¡¯ Krissintha stopped, too, squinting at Quenta, and saw a small, almost imperceptible glint of power near his back. ¡®Yes, he is. Feels cold, doesn¡¯t it? His touch?¡¯ she said, smiling. ¡®Oh, come on, Kevin, me too ¡­ uh, that¡¯s cold,¡¯ Tommi joined in the fun. Krissintha¡¯s smile grew, looking at Quenta on one side then Tommi on the other. Then she realised that the sailors were both standing at least five or six paces from her on either sides. Kevin, how far can you reach? She asked him. Uhm, if I stretch my tentacles in opposite directions, I¡¯d say about ten meters. The answer came. What are meters? She asked. It¡¯s a unit of length we use where I come from. Ten meters would be ¡­ around fifteen paces. He said. I see ¡­ wait! Did you just say tentacles? She asked, feeling a sudden apprehension. Did I? I ¡­ don¡¯t recall. The spirit said. Krissintha wasn¡¯t about to let him brush this off. Tentacles? Of all things? She hoped she had heard him wrong, but what were the chances of that? His voice was ringing in her mind as clearly as a town bell in the morning. No, you said tentacles. What do you mean tentacles? What kind of spirit are you? she demanded. Uh ¡­ alright, I have tentacles. Think of me as a ¡­ small, invisible spirit-kraken. Nothing scary. he said. Spirit ¡­ kraken? A kraken I can¡¯t see is sitting on my shoulders? That¡¯s as scary as it can get, Kevin! she wailed. What do you want me to tell you, Krissy? I am what I am just as you are what you are. What matter is that we¡¯re friends. Kevin said, his thoughts sounding somewhat indignant. But you didn¡¯t have anything to do with the sea-kraken that attacked us, did you? she asked. Ah, that was my second cousin, twice removed. He just came for a visit. Kevin said, laughing. I hope you¡¯re joking. Krissintha said. I am joking. Keving giggled. ¡®I¡¯m beginning to see why that elf hates spirits,¡¯ she said the words out loud. *** Krissintha stared at the tree Tommi was pointing at. Another yellow mark. It was the fifth ¡ª one of the elf teams had definitely found the spirit, and they were following it. Quenta and Tommi were looking at her, waiting for her to resume walking. Krissintha felt a knot growing in her stomach ¡ª this was soon, way too soon. She was just getting used to a human-turned-spirit-kraken sitting on her shoulders, coming to terms with the situation she had found herself in. Why did she have to be heading into a fight where she couldn¡¯t even see the opponent? Hey, don¡¯t worry, Krissy. The elves will do the heavy lifting, and I¡¯ll do the rest. Kevin¡¯s thoughts came to her, trying to reassure her. Prey! Bad prey! Bad, bad prey! Akela¡¯s thoughts came a second later. Krissintha looked ahead and saw Tovaron Ento¡¯s back among the trees, about a dozen or so paces ahead. Where is Akela? Krissintha asked. I¡¯m not sure. It feels like about a three hundred meters, slightly to our left. We should ¡­ probably hurry. Kevin said. ¡®Hey, Toven!¡¯ Krissy called out to the elf. Tovaron Ento turned around, looking annoyed, putting his finger to his lips, shushing her. Krissintha didn¡¯t care and she spoke as loud as she could without yelling, ¡®My hell-hound has found something. We should hurry.¡¯ Chapter Thirty-two Chapter Thirty-two Akela was quite far from us -- three hundred meters give or take -- but I could sense him. The Essence wires connecting us had been drawing on my Essence pool occasionally, when expanding, or bleeding some of the stuff into the air when shortening. It required only minimal mental effort on my part, but most importantly, the wires allowed me to find Akela simply by following them ¡ª a Tentacle Horror version of Ariadne¡¯s thread. I told Krissy which way to go, she relayed it to the elves, and we were on our way. Akela kept wailing about the ¡°bad prey¡±. It had to be the evil spirit and its host, I just knew it. I also knew the wolf had enough common sense to steer clear of it - he wasn¡¯t the sort of hunter who would charge blindly at anything that caught his fancy. But when I felt Mana leaving its pool, rushing along the Essence wires to Akela, I started to worry. Why did he need Mana? His ¡°Strong Teeth¡± skill? Or his own, patchy version of Mana Armour? More Mana flowed out of the pool. Hurts! Hurts! Hurts! I heard Akela¡¯s thoughts. We had to hurry. Krissy trudged through the forest as fast as she could, dodging trees and protruding roots. The elves didn¡¯t seem happy with her pace, and even I wished she could go faster, but she was only human. Finally, after almost five minutes of marching and following the wires, we arrived. It wasn¡¯t a really clearing: a brook was taking a sharp turn here, the trees were somewhat sparser, and among those trees I saw Akela. He was growling at two nervous looking elves who were pointing their long spears at him. To my surprise another wolf stood behind Akela: an almost Earth-standard wolf, if not for the single, small horn on its head. It had light grey-ish white fur, and it was slightly larger than Akela. I was sure it wasn¡¯t the same species as him. Two other wolves lay on the ground, dead, no wounds, no blood, no soul. The work of a spirit. And a dead elf. The young but dead man was in a sitting position, his back against a tree, his head tilting to the side and down, his bow next to him on the ground. Just like the dead wolves, the elf¡¯s body was intact, no signs of violence. Tovaron Ento rushed forward to the spear-wielding elves, calming them down, getting them to lower their weapons. Kerav and Arde stood aside, scanning the area, looking for threats. Kenta and Tommy joined them to stand guard. Krissy approached Akela. The other wolf growled, taking a few steps back, but not running away for some reason. Krissy knelt down, ignoring the growling grey wolf, and patted Akela on the head. Akela, are you alright? I asked. Hurts! He said, letting out a whimper at the same time. He didn¡¯t look injured, but ¡­ his soul. His soul was missing a chunk. From his hind. What happened, Akela? I asked. Bad prey. Hurts. Kills. He said. That fucking evil-spirit! It had bitten a chunk out of my friend¡¯s soul. I knew how that worked, I had done it myself. It took time to eat a soul, even when the prey was already dead. Akela wasn¡¯t only alive, he was fast. But even if the spirit failed to rip his soul out of his body properly, it could still have small bites. I wasn¡¯t sure what kind of pain Akela was feeling after having a chunk bitten out of his soul. Was it the kind of pain I had felt when Jevan¡¯s familiar had cut off one of my tentacles? ¡®Is he alright?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®Is he in pain? He¡¯s wailing, but ¡­ I can¡¯t see any wounds.¡¯ The evil spirit took a bite out of his soul. From his butt. I said to Krissy. I was furious. We had to get that spirit, and we had to kill it. How dare that piece of shit spirit attack my friend? ¡®I ¡­ don¡¯t know what that means,¡¯ Krissy said, her voice filled with worry. ¡®Is he in danger? Is it fatal?¡¯ No, it¡¯s not fatal. That Fenirig-Something fellow had damage to his soul, too, and he was fine. I explained. Akela whimpered and cried, but he stood firm like a soldier, lifting his head, letting Krissy stroke him and hug him. Krissy didn¡¯t let him go even when the grey-wolf took a step closer, growling louder. On one hand, seeing Krissy caring for Akela so much filled my soul with joy ¡ª she had really grown to love and appreciate him. But rage pushed the warm feelings out of me ¡ª I was seething, trying to come up with ways to make that evil spirit suffer for what it had done. ¡®Can you do something, Kevin? He¡¯s in pain!¡¯ Krissy said. I don¡¯t think I ¡­ can ¡­ can I ¡­? My thoughts came to stuttering stop. I had meant to say there was nothing I could do, but that didn¡¯t feel right. And when something didn¡¯t feel right, it meant my Tentacle Horror instinct was hard at work. I focused my vision of Akela¡¯s spiritual wound and I listened and let my Tentacle Horror instinct nudge my thoughts in the right direction. A spiritual wound. Wound¡¯s needed to be treated. Treatment. Doctors. Surgeons ¡­ soul-surgery. That was it! I remembered those words as I had heard them from Wensah. That¡¯s what she had done with my soul, implanting it into my current spiritual body. Sure, she was some sort of goddess, but I was sure I would be able to do a watered down version of soul-surgery. Perhaps not even surgery. As I looked at the bite-mark on Akela¡¯s soul, I started to have an inkling of what I could do. I whispered thanks to my Tentacle Horror instinct, for the idea of a spiritual band-aid was forming in my mind. Souls were made of Spirit-Stuff. I was made of Spirit-Stuff, albeit a different, processed version of it, if that was the right word. My spiritual body, my tentacles ¡­ they weren¡¯t my soul. It was definitely not among my favourite things to do ¡ª it was painful to have piece of my spiritual body ripped out. I had done it already, and if it was for a friend, I could do it again. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I stuck two of my tentacles out of my spirit-costume, I coiled one around the tip of the other, and I tore a the tip off. It would be enough to fill in for the missing part of Akela¡¯s soul. My Tentacle Horror instinct was telling me that it should work, probably, maybe, with some luck. A temporary measure for sure, but better than nothing. I mixed an EPs worth of Essence into it, working them together into a ball of invisible dough, hoping the Essence would serve as a bonding agent between his soul and my Spirit-Stuff. Then I slapped the spirit-goo onto Akela¡¯s butt. The amount was almost exactly enough, and to my immense relief it stuck to his soul, filling in the fist-sized gouge in it. A band-aid. I hoped that he¡¯d feel a little better. Akela stiffened. I wasn¡¯t really sure how he was experiencing this, but he was definitely feeling something. I wondered if the drill-sergeant elf had been in constant pain ever since his soul had got damaged. Maybe that¡¯s why it seemed like he hated everyone, especially spirits. ¡®Akela, what¡¯s wrong?¡¯ Krissintha asked when she noticed Akela tensing. The grey-wolf growled, but Akela growled back at it. Not prey. Friend. His voice echoed in my mind. Are you feeling better? Is the pain gone? I asked. Better. Less pain. He answered. I ¡­ just gawked at Akela. Less pain was good, but ¡­ Krissy? Did he just say ¡­ ¡°friend¡±? Is it just me, or did Akela pick up some new words? Or thoughts? Or whatever? I asked. I think he did. And I¡¯ve never heard him say ¡°better¡± or ¡°less¡± before either. It was always just ¡°good¡± or ¡°bad¡± with him. Krissy sent her thoughts to me. And she was right: it did sound like there had been an increase in his mental vocabulary. Was my connection with him doing something to him? Through the Essence wires? Or could my own Spirit-Stuff I had just slapped onto his butt have some sort of mental effect on him, and this quickly? I wasn¡¯t sure, but I could worry about it later. The grey-wolf was still growling at Krissy, but at least it wasn¡¯t attacking. I saw the wary looks of the elves as they gave their accounts to Tovaron Ento, keeping their eyes on the wolves, ready to use their spears at a moment¡¯s notice. Akela, who is your new friend? Krissy asked. Pack dead. She alive. Mate. Akela said. Mate? Krissy asked. Mate. Pups. Later. Akela said, managing to sound strangely articulate despite thinking single words. Oh, Akela, you dog! I said, grinning inside my soul. He¡¯s ¡­ a wolf, though. Isn¡¯t that what you said? Krissy inquired. No. I mean yes. It¡¯s an expression. What I mean is ¡­ you know, wolf-damsel in distress on one hand, heroic hell-hound on the other ¡­ this is the beginning of a wolf-romance, isn¡¯t it? I explained. And then it hit me: this was what Akela had told me before leaving Misery Island. That he wanted a mate. And pups. But ¡­ did this mean he was going to settle down here? Stay here even if I left with Krissy? Would I have to ¡­ ¡®Misery!¡¯ Tovaron Ento came to us, and my attention snapped back to the present. ¡®Good job finding them so quickly,¡¯ the elf said, barely disguised pain and anger on his face.Then he looked at Akela. ¡®Temeral Ente¡¯s dead. But if your hound hadn¡¯t attacked the hosts of the evil spirit, his team would have been wiped out completely. But ¡­ Jakaren Faen and Sidiret Aken over there are terrified of it.¡¯ Tovaron Ento pointed at the two elves who had just lost their comrade. ¡®They tell me your hound can use power. How?¡¯ What do I tell him? Krissintha¡¯s question echoed in my mind. I was thinking as fast as I could, but Tovaron Ento saw the hesitation on Krissy¡¯s face just as I did, and he wasn¡¯t in a mood for patience. ¡®Familiars don''t use animals,¡¯ he said, his voice cold instead of the somewhat flippant, carefree demeanor I was getting used to seeing from him. He glanced at Akela, who was now in some sort of growling contest with his lady-friend, and he said, ¡®¡­ and this one¡¯s a hell-hound. A favourite of evil spirits. That¡¯s why they had been hunted to near extinction a long time ago. I don¡¯t know how you came across one, Misery, but you¡¯d better start talking.¡¯ I sighed inwardly: there was no getting out of this, we had to tell him something. Krissy, just ¡­ tell him as much of the truth as you think is ¡­ necessary. You¡¯re good at this sort of thing. I said to her. Alright. She said, somehow making her thought sound like she was sighing. She was really getting the hang of this quasi-telepathic communication. ¡®Firstly, his name is Akela,¡¯ Krissy began the explanation. ¡®Secondly, yes, he can use power. Thirdly, how it¡¯s possible is a closely guarded secret of the Bureau. Lady Wensah may be a complete bitch, but the familiars she provides to our members are not your average familiars. If you want to know more, Tovaron Ento, then you¡¯ll have to join the Bureau. That¡¯s the only way.¡¯ Tovaron Ento was just staring at Krissy, and so was I. Uhm¡­ Krissy, that had ¡­ very little to do with the truth. I commented. I told him as much of the truth as I thought was necessary. And it¡¯s time to change the topic, before he presses it. Any suggestions? Krissy asked. Yes. He said ¡°hosts¡±, as in more than one. Ask him about that. I told her, and she spoke before Tovaron Ento could ask any more, uncomfortable questions. ¡®You said the evil spirit had hosts, not host,¡¯ she said. ¡®Care to explain?¡¯ Tovaron Ento took a deep breath, let it out, and it looked like managed to regain some of his composure. He looked Krissy in the eyes and said, ¡®I think it¡¯s been here for longer than we¡¯d thought, growing more than we¡¯d thought. It¡¯s possessing three hosts all at once. Two wolves and ¡­ Ruennen Itora.¡¯ ¡®That sword¡¯s owner,¡¯ Krissy said, scowling, then she sent a thought to me, That¡¯s bad ¡­ right, Kevin? Yeah. That¡¯s probably bad. I said, having an ugly inkling of what this meant. ¡®Sivera¡¯s people are coming,¡¯ one of our elf lookouts whisper-yelled to Tovaron Ento. They must have had exceptional hearing or eyesight, because I couldn¡¯t see or hear anything, and I could see in every direction. Kenta and Tommy were just as puzzled, looking around but not seeing anything. At least I wasn¡¯t the only one with inferior senses in this company, but ¡­ Sivera¡¯s people? That meant spiritualists. Shit! My tentacles were hanging out. I quickly retracted them to the inside of my spirit-costume. Akela, you need to take your lady-friend and get out of here. Come back only if we call you. I said to the wolf. Fine. He acknowledged and he nudged the grey-wolf to leave, then they both ran off. I took the masks out of Jacks Room and placed them in Krissy¡¯s hands. I think you should wear them. These are Sivera¡¯s people. I said to her. Why? She asked. We¡¯re her because of Wensah. Her and Sivera are ¡­ I don¡¯t know, rivals? Enemies? It¡¯s better if they don¡¯t know your faces, in case we run into them in again in the future. Better safe than sorry. I explained. If you say so. Krissintha said, but her thought didn¡¯t come across as convinced. Sometimes it pays to be paranoid. I said. My father used to say something like that. Krissy said, nodding, then she called Kenta and Tommi over to give them the masks. Alright. Normal familiars don¡¯t talk much, apparently, so from now on I¡¯ll be very, very quiet. I said, hoping that a combination of my less than masterful disguise and my silence would be enough to fool the coming familiars. Finally. Krissintha sent one more though, almost as if whispering. I wanted to retort, but the first of Sivera¡¯s people appeared, coming around a nearby tree. Chapter Thirty-three Chapter Thirty-three *** Yeah? What do you want me to do about it, huh? Krissy huffed mentally, panting as she was almost running, trying not to lose sight of the single elf ranger we could still see a dozen paces in front of us. We can just stand back and let them do the work. Krissy suggested. So ¡­ if we do what Wensah wants, then the spiritualists will try to kill us, and if we don¡¯t, then the bitch will? Is that what¡¯ you¡¯re saying? She demanded, her thoughts carrying a distinctly angry undertone. That¡¯s just great. Am I the only one thinking this stupid god of yours brought us here to die? She said, even angrier. I didn¡¯t have a choice, you stupid pile of tentacles! So what do we do? She sent her growly thoughts to me. Go ¡­ with the flow? Do you think one of those spiritualists would be willing to swap familiars with me? Good! *** Chapter Thirty-four Chapter Thirty-four Frankly, I didn¡¯t know what to do. Then the first of Sivera¡¯s people died. The spear-wielding human, the one without a familiar. I was as appalled as unsurprised ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t have let him anywhere near the evil spirit, not without a familiar. But they had, and one moment, when the dwarf wasn¡¯t there to help him, the man just collapsed. I saw his soul dangling on one of the crab-spider¡¯s legs, losing form, half consumed already. Poor guy. Krissy gasped ¡ª she couldn¡¯t see what I could, but a man freezing up for a second and then collapsing to the ground must have been a horrifying sight for her. ¡®Krissy, don¡¯t let Kenta and Tommy go anywhere near that thing!¡¯ I told her. She relayed my message, and it didn¡¯t take much convincing for the two sailors to take a few steps back and stay near the trees. At the same time the rangers rushed forward to join the struggling spiritualists. It might have been bravery, or that they just didn¡¯t see how scary the evil spirit was. Maybe it was because this was their home, and it was their duty to protect it from a monster that would eat everyone if left alone. ¡®What about us?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®Let¡¯s go, but don¡¯t get closer to the wolves than ten paces!¡¯ I told Krissy. ¡®Is that how far it can reach?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Yeah,¡¯ I said. She shook her head, taking a deep breath. I had a feeling she had expected me to tell her to stay with the sailors. We couldn¡¯t do that. This wasn¡¯t our home and we had no duty or obligation to die fighting the horrid spirit-creature, but another thing we didn¡¯t have was a choice. It wasn¡¯t just Wensah and her idiocy ¡ª we had to garner some goodwill with the locals, whether we wanted to stay or get on a ship and leave. Krissy started to walk forward, her steps small and shaky ¡ª she was scared and I couldn¡¯t blame her for that. The five rangers joined the fight, focusing on the wolves the spirit used as spare hosts. These guys were good ¡ª what was the word? Squad tactics or something like that. They knew what they were doing. Two of the rangers stabbed their spears into the wolf the human had been keeping at bay before he had died. Their spears were just long enough to keep them out of the evil spirit¡¯s reach. Tovaron Ento and his two team-mates were jumping in an out, slashing and stabbing at the wolf with their swords, using some sort of evasive pattern. They couldn¡¯t see the legs of the abomination, but their dance-like assaults were working. For about ten seconds. The woman, Ardeela-Erini, died as the wolf-host fell apart. The spirit¡¯s leg that had been attached to the beast was free now, and it flung the leg at the woman. She didn¡¯t see the invisible threat coming, and it ripped her soul out of her body. She just ¡­ collapsed. Tovaron Ento and his remaining rangers jumped back, shouting and cursing. ¡®Shit!¡¯ Krissy cursed, too, her lips trembling. But she kept walking forward, and we were almost there: I could reach the spirit now if I stretched my tenties, but I was hesitant because I didn¡¯t have a plan beyond trying to eat the damn thing. ¡®Stop!¡¯ I told Krissy. She stopped, almost hyperventilating underneath her mask. Another of Sivera¡¯s spiritualists fell: one of the two elven men. His familiar¡¯s two arms weren¡¯t enough to fend off three of the spirit-beast¡¯s legs ¡ª the elf roared as if in pain as his familiar¡¯s body broke down, their connection severed. Then he shuddered and went silent as a new connection formed: an invisible spirit-leg pierced man¡¯s chest, his soul. I could see the Essence wires spreading and reaching every single node in it, possessing the man in place of the wolf the spirit had just lost. Then the elf joined poor Ruennen Itora as a zombified host. The newly minted host turned around, his limbs twitching, his eyes rolling back. He ¡ª it ¡ª lunged at his former comrades, clawing at them with Mana-covered hands, but staying near Ruennen Itora ¡ª he was the real host, I deduced. I had no doubt the remaining two spiritualist and four rangers were doomed if I didn¡¯t do something, and if they all died, Krissy and I were going to be the next items on the menu. ¡®Kevin, this isn¡¯t looking good. Do something!¡¯ Krissy wailed at me. ¡®I know, I know,¡¯ I said. But what? Staying alive long enough to eat it didn¡¯t seem feasible at all. As if to prove the point, the dwarf fell. The short, stocky, bearded man dropped his axes, both his familiar and his soul falling prey to that bloody monster. This evil spirit was way too strong. Or was it that the familiars were especially weak? I wasn¡¯t sure. The only advantage I had was my longer reach. Losing a few tentacles wouldn¡¯t be huge problem, but if it got to my body, it would slice me up and eat me piece by piece. I was literally begging my Tentacle Horror instinct to come up with an idea. And it did. I emptied my primary Essence pool, gathering 60 EP at the tip of one tentacle. Then, with a mental sigh, I stuck a tentie out of my costume, stretching it towards the monster, making sure my body stayed out of its reach Speed. I needed speed. I flung that single tentacle at the monstrous spirit faster than I had ever done before. The monster reacted instantly, slashing at my tentie with two of its legs, but I was faster, punching into the crab-like body before the slash could connect. ¡®Breakfast is served, motherfucker!¡¯ I yelled as I injected all 60 EP into its body. The Essence spread inside the spirit, and it froze for a second, all its legs stopping whatever they were doing. That was the break the elves needed ¡ª rangers and spiritualists alike ¡ª to disengage and back away from it. But it wasn¡¯t going to be enough: I plunged a second tentie into it, and I emptied my secondary Essency pool, pumping its contents into the evil spirit¡¯s body. It started to bloat, the spiritual substance filling it up. ¡®Choke on this!¡¯ I yelled at it. Concentrated, loose Essence was an obstruction when out of its pool ¡ª it clogged everything up inside a spiritual body, making it difficult for Mana or Spirit Stuff to move around. I knew it wouldn¡¯t harm the spirit, but combined with the the element of surprise, it was a great distraction. And it worked: I had caught the evil spirit off guard. The Mana it supplied to its hosts dwindled, and it didn¡¯t seem to know what to do or how to react to the new and sudden conditions. Both the rangers and Sivera¡¯s remaining people regrouped in seconds, not wasting any time. They rushed the hosts of the beast again, Mana flashing through the weapons and bodies of the spiritualist, making them faster, stronger and more lethal. ¡®Kevin, what¡¯s happening?¡¯ Krissy squealed, unable to see beyond the material plane. ¡®Not now!¡¯ I squealed back at her. ¡®Just don¡¯t move!¡¯ Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡®Tentacle Horror!¡¯ I heard one of the familiars scream. It sounded rather panicky. ¡®Focus on the crab-spirit, idiot!¡¯ I yelled back at it. It was the familiar of the other elven man, and it was too late. My mere presence ¡ª or rather the revelation of what I was ¡ª had distracted it from the main villain, and it paid for it with its life. The spider-bastard swiped at the distracted familiar and its master with four of its legs, catching them and eating them both, leaving the woman the only spiritualist alive ¡ª not counting Krissy. This was going to come down to who could eat faster: the spider-crab or me. I discarded my costume, letting it dissolve, and I shoved all six of my tentacles into evil spirit¡¯s body. I heard it shriek for the first time as my tenties started to suck and absorb the Spirit-Stuff from its body. It instantly abandoned everything else: the pretty elf spiritualist, the rangers, and it even let go of the second wolf it was using as a spare host just to have an extra leg to hack at my tenties with. Tovaron Ento¡¯s people finally managed to kill the other, now abandoned wolf-host, then they backed away, probably unsure if it was safe to attack the two possessed elves. I thought, or hoped, I could eat this bastard fast enough, but it was large and my tentacles didn¡¯t last long. The crab-spider stabbed into one of them with a leg, and ¡­ it started eating me just as I was eating it. Fuck! It hurt like hell. Then it stabbed into a second tentie. I wanted to scream, but I gritted my metaphorical teeth and I pulled those two tenties away. They both tore off where they¡¯d been pierced, leaving half of each for the spirit to munch on. It attacked a third of my tentacles. I pulled it out of its body and coiled it around its leg as fast as I could. Then another leg reached for another of my poor tenties, and I had to do the same again. Krissy and my little, spherical body were out of its reach, but with only two tenties left plunged into the spirit¡¯s body, I was set to lose this eating contest. ¡®Hey, you!¡¯ I screamed at the four-armed, slightly feminine familiar of the elf girl. ¡®Get its legs! Now!¡¯ It just stared at me. ¡®A Tentacle Horror that speaks?¡¯ it asked, sounding bewildered and if I was any judge, rather terrified. The elf woman said something in her own language as she stabbed at his former comrade-turned-host. I had to remove another tentacle to prevent it from being cut off, leaving only one inside the body of the spirit. I yelled at the familiar again, ¡®What are you waiting for? A fucking standing ovation? Get to it!¡¯ To my relief an ¡°enemy of my enemy¡± type epiphany must have occurred in its mind ¡ª it spoke to the girl, telling her where to go. The woman ¡ª rage and pain distorting her pretty face ¡ª did what she was told, and the familiar finally attacked the monster¡¯s legs, giving my tenties a chance. The evil spirit was focused solely on me ¡ª it knew I was the bigger threat to it. I willed my one little tentie to absorb as much Spirit Stuff as fast as it could. The crab-spider screeched, trying to cut it off, but the familiar was with us now, instructing the woman where to attack while fending off the the ghostly spider-legs, protecting my tentie. Eating the evil spirit with one tentacle was slow. Too slow. I twisted the three tenties restraining three of the monster¡¯s legs. I just about managed to move their tips enough to pierce those legs, and I could finally begin to consume the bastard in earnest. The monster finally realised what it needed to do. It pushed a pulse of Mana through its hosts, almost like my Mana-Blast, sending the spiritualist woman tumbling ¡ª and the familiar with her. The possessed hosts then broke into a shambling sprint for Krissy. Krissy yelped, backing away, stumbling and falling on her ass. ¡®Shit, shit, shit!¡¯ I swore, and I opened up my Mana pool, forming Mana-Armour around Krissy as quickly as I could, and I brought Jevan¡¯s sword out for her ¡ª it dropped to the ground just as the two twisted elf hosts jumped at my girl. Krissy screamed, holding her hands up to defend herself. Mana flashed and flickered around her, protecting her as the zombified, possessed elves clawed at her. ¡®Krissy! The sword! Stab, stab, stab!¡¯ I shouted. Screaming and flailing, she looked around and found the sword on the ground next to her. She picked it up, kicking out at the one of the hosts, then tried to stab it. It was not working and we were well within the reach of the moster now. It lifted every one of its free legs, readying itself to attack Krissy¡¯s soul and my body. Shit! With all my tentacles occupied, I had nothing to protect us, nothing to attack the spirit with. The spiritualist was clambering to her feet a couple of meters to our side, looking wobbly. No help from host or familiar. Then it dawned on me: the hosts! I could push the possessed host away and the evil spirit with it. I emptied my Mana Pool in a split second, adding 20 MP to the Mana-Armour in front of Krissy. ¡®Back away, Krissy, back away!¡¯ I screamed at her, then I yelled, ¡®Mana Blast!¡¯ More than 20 MP washed over the evil spirit¡¯s hosts with the speed of an explosion ¡­ pushing them ... back? No. I didn¡¯t push them back: the bodies of the possessed elves vanished, chunks of flesh, guts and bones, even grass and soil, flying away from us, all but vapourised. I felt an invisible smile forming somewhere in my soul as the memory of a similar incident during a certain ant-war flashed through my mind. The evil spirit flew back at least a meter, but stopped dead on account of its hosts¡¯ disintegration, as if inertia wasn¡¯t a thing for spirits. Actually, it wasn¡¯t. Krissy was pushing herself backwards furiously, using her arms and legs, screaming, and we were out of the spirit¡¯s reach. ¡®Stop! Krissy, stop!¡¯ I yelled at her before we got too far away from our foe to keep eating it. Krissy stopped, panting and crying. ¡®What the fuck, Kevin, what the fuck?¡¯ she wailed, tears flowing down on her face, matching the misery mask she was wearing. ¡®I¡¯ll explain later. Try to calm down for now,¡¯ I said and I turned my full attention to the damned crab-spider. I wasn¡¯t sure what was going on with it ¡ª it might have been in shock because of the sudden loss of its hosts, or maybe something else, but for a couple of seconds it didn¡¯t move a leg. That suited me just fine: it was stuck now, unable to go anywhere, and I kept eating it. Perhaps that was it: I¡¯d been eating it this whole time. Its legs were losing form, even parts of its body were looking weird. So I ate and ate and ate. And I grew. The spirit tried to move its legs, but it was slow now, and it seemed to have lost its strength. And I ate some more, until there was nothing left of the bastard. *** I grew my lost tenties back as I reached Level 30. Not only that, they all grew longer, from five to five and a half meters. And not only that, I grew an eighth tentacle. Then, as I kept eating, I reached Level 31, and the diameter of my body was now at least thirty centimeters if not more ¡ª larger than a basketball. My primary Essence Pool¡¯s capacity increased from 62 to 68, my Mana Pool from 35 to 40. Two levels. This bloody monster of a spirit had given me well over 2000 EXP. A shiver ran down my imaginary spine: this had been close. This had been a true monster. Levels be damned, I could have lost everything here ¡ª Krissy, and even my life. I had to sit down and think about the lessons I needed to learn from this encounter ¡ª I didn¡¯t want any more close calls in the future. But that had to wait. Tovaron Ento and his rangers, standing a good ten meters from us, were also just gawking, their shock and disbelief painted on their faces. The single, surviving spiritualist stood a few meters away from us, shaking. She had dropped her sword, and was just gawking at the place where her possessed comrade had been five seconds ago, her eyes wide, sunshine glinting off the gathering tears in the corners of them. ¡®Get moving, Kitala Iwani! It will kill us! The Tentacle Horror will kill us!¡¯ the familiar screamed at the woman, but she just stuttered something and didn¡¯t move. I guessed she really was in shock. Well, Mana-Blast was an impactful skill in more than one way. ¡®Krissy, stand up! It¡¯s not over,¡¯ I said to her. She clambered to her feet, trembling and crying, gripping Jevan¡¯s sword so hard her hand was turning white. I felt bad for asking her to do anything, considering the state she was in, but I had no choice. She turned to the spiritualist as I instructed her, and she took a step towards her. ¡®Hey, listen ¡­¡¯ I addressed the four-armed spirit. Having fought the crab-spider together, I was hoping it would be at least willing to talk a little before deciding that I didn¡¯t have the right to exist. I should have known better. The spiritualist was just standing there, shaking like a leaf in the wind, probably still processing, or maybe unable to process what had just happened. The spirit gave up on urging her to run and lifted one of its four arms. I watched, completely baffled, as it pulled a small, black cube out from its own body. ¡®Stop!¡¯ I said, both to Krissy and to the spirit. Krissy stopped, the spirit didn¡¯t. The familiar pinched the cube between two, clawed fingers and put it inside the left soul-arm of the woman. The cube dissolved into a swirling, black miasma in an instant. The woman tensed immediately, then a second later she began to squirm as she stood. Whatever that black thing was, it started spreading and tainting the bronze coloured soul-arm like an ink-stain in water. The woman¡¯s eyes widened, and she screamed as her own familiar stuck a hand into the tainted soul-arm and began to absorb it. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ I said. Chapter Thirty-five Chapter Thirty-five I could hardly believe what I was seeing, and I had seen some weird and horrible things since becoming the cute little tentacle-spirit I was. Krissy rushed to the spiritualist. The woman collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain, spasming. Tovaron Ento ¡ª probably sensing that the coast was clear now ¡ª sent his entourage to check on their fallen comrades, but he himself trod over to us to see what was going on. ¡®Get away from me! Get away from me!¡¯ the familiar screamed at me as it began absorbing the woman¡¯s now murky-black soul-arm, all the while the taint was slowly spreading to her shoulder, leaving her a writhing mess. ¡®What the fuck, Misery?¡¯ Tovaron Ento demanded immediately. ¡®Stop it! Why are you killing her?¡¯ What the fuck, Kevin? Stop it! Why are you killing her? Krissy demanded, sending me her agitated, screaming thoughts. ¡®It¡¯s not me. It¡¯s her familiar.¡¯ I yelled. ¡®I¡¯ll stop it, I¡¯ll stop it!¡¯ ¡®Stop it! Leave me alone!¡¯ the familiar wailed as I grabbed its arm with two tentacles, pulling it out of the woman¡¯s soul. I quickly ensnared its three other arms, too, restraining them with a coiling tentie each. This familiar was a far cry from the beast I¡¯d just managed to eat ¡ª no matter how much it struggled, it couldn¡¯t wriggle itself out of my grasp. And just like Jevan¡¯s familiar, it didn¡¯t even attempt to eat me. I was beginning to think that consuming other spirits was an exclusive purview of the so called evil spirits, like the giant creepy-crawly ¡­ or myself. But what about souls? Wasn¡¯t eating a soul the exact same kind of activity? It must have been this blackish taint: the only part the familiar had tried to consume was the tainted soul-arm. Was it some sort of pre-digestion, breaking down the soul into a state where a familiar could absorb it? Possibly. ¡®What the hell did you do to her?¡¯ I yelled at the familiar. It just kept twisting and turning, trying to get out of my clutches, albeit in vain. But whether it answered or not, the black taint was spreading, slowly but surely, and I was sure it was going to kill the woman sooner or later. Probably sooner. I stuck a tentacle into the affected area and I was instantly astonished. The black stuff? It was Essence, I could feel it. But not the kind of Essence I had in my pools, or any kind I¡¯d ever seen before. Suddenly I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask this stupid familiar. Krissy and Tovaron Ento had entered into a shouting match for one reason or another. It seemed the elf was blaming Krissy and me for the agony of the spiritualist. Questions had to wait: it was time to please the crowd. But ¡­ the only idea I had was spiritual amputation. My Tentacle Horror instinct kind of sort of agreed with my assessment and gave me the go ahead. Cutting off a part of a soul ¡ª or a spirit for that matter ¡ª was a much simpler and quicker task than doing the same to a physical body. There was no blood, no guts, no danger of infections. I had two free tentacles to use, and thus I began my second ever soul-surgery. Well, soul-surgery wasn¡¯t really what I was doing ¡ª I basically ate whatever was left of the fully tainted arm, and kept eating the affected area until I reached a line beyond which there was no taint at all. The woman cried, her eyes rolling back ¡ª by the time I finished, she was unconscious. Her entire left soul-arm and a chunk stretching from the shoulder to the arm-pit was gone, but the rest of her soul was ¡­ fine, and I hoped it would be enough for her to keep living and functioning. Luckily, her chest was still rising and falling, her eyelids were trembling, and she let out a few whimpering sounds, so ¡­ it was all good. I had no clue what percentage of the soul could be lost without dying, but it seemed this woman ¡ª Kitala Iwani, if I¡¯d heard it correctly ¡ª had not reached the threshold yet. I watched her soul for half a minute, checking if there was any of the strange Essence left there. There wasn¡¯t, and I checked my own Essence pool: 12 EP and filling up. I tore a small, negligible chunk of Spirit-Stuff from a tentacle, mixed it with a coulple of EP, and I spread the resulting spirit-goo onto the area of her soul where I¡¯d performed the amputation. I hoped it was going to help her with the pain as it had helped Akela. Her breathing became more regular, her eyelids stopped trembling, and I was reasonably confident that she was out of the woods. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I think she¡¯ll live.¡¯ I said to Krissy. She held up a hand to stop Tovaron Ento from speaking, and said to him, ¡®She¡¯ll be fine.¡¯ ¡®Fine? What do you mean fine? What¡¯s happening to her?¡¯ the man demanded. I wasn¡¯t sure why the man was so hung up on this; the woman wasn¡¯t one of his. Shouldn¡¯t he have been with the rest of his rangers, dealing with the fatalities of this scuffle? Hm. Maybe he had realised there was nothing he could do for the dead and decided that the two dodgy spiritualists had to be dealt with. Tovaron Ento was somewhat of a pragmatist, it seemed. Kevin, you¡¯d better explain everything to me this instant! Krissy demanded. ¡®I will, I promise, but I still have this girl¡¯s familiar to deal with,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯m restraining it, but my tenties are getting tired.¡¯ I have to tell something to the elf. He¡¯s losing his patience, and so am I. What the hell is happening? She thought-yelled at me. ¡®Tell him the familiar tried to eat her and I¡¯ve just saved her life,¡¯ I said. ¡®What?¡¯ Krissy gasped, her eyes widening underneath her mask. ¡®What is it?¡¯ Tovaron Ento demanded. Krissy told him. The elf scowled, looking down at the woman and said, ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ unusual. As far as I know familiars only feed on their host¡¯s soul when the host dies. She¡¯s alive, isn¡¯t she?¡¯ Hm. It made sense to eat your host¡¯s soul once they were dead ¡ª I had done it myself. Jack and Gladys. Their souls would have just evapourated into the air otherwise, and I was still unsure whether there was any kind of afterlife waiting for them. But I couldn¡¯t even imagine myself eating Krissy¡¯s or Akela¡¯s souls while alive. They weren¡¯t my ¡°hosts¡±. They were my friends. The familiar eating the soul of her still living host? It must have gone against some rules or regulations. Questions were popping up with every passing second. I had been here for nearly three years and I knew almost nothing about spirits ¡ª why they did what they did, what the hell was up with godlings like Wensah and Sivera, and so on. This familiar was a treasure trove on information if I could get it to talk. ¡®You¡¯d better start talking!¡¯ I growled at the familiar. ¡®Why were you eating her?¡¯ The spirit stopped struggling for a single moment, turning its featureless head to look at me ¡ª probably ¡ª but it remained silent. Then it tried to break free again, but to no avail ¡ª my tenties held all its arms as tightly as a ¡­ as a kraken. Yes. That was a good comparison, although the scale was off. Now, how to get the spirit to talk? I wasn¡¯t sure yet, so I turned my attention to the unconscious woman. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. I didn¡¯t know this elven spiritualist. I had no reason to do anything more for her. But the fact that the familiar had tried to eat her alive pissed me off ¡ª I was supposed to be the evil spirit here, so why was a familiar doing something even I wouldn¡¯t do? I decided to take the next step in ensuring that that the woman was safe from her own familiar. I looked and I found the nodes in the familiar¡¯s body, tracing the Essence wires connecting them to those in the woman¡¯s soul. Then I got down to the not especially gruesome but extremely painful work of ripping the connections out of the spirit. The memory of intense pain from not that long ago came back to me ¡ª disconnecting myself from Akela had been ¡­ well, something I wasn¡¯t keen to experience again. The familiar shrieked and screamed as I ripped the nodes out of its body one after an other. I had no qualms doing it: it wouldn¡¯t kill it, and I knew the nodes would grow back soon. Mine had. I was just about halfway through, when the spirit¡¯s painful wails became words. ¡®Stop, please stop!¡¯ it cried, pleading. ¡®I¡¯ll talk, I¡¯ll talk, just please stop!¡¯ I stopped for a moment. I knew it was painful, but ¡­ did this four-armed soul-eating horribleness think I was ¡­ ¡®Do you think I¡¯m torturing you? Do you think I¡¯m doing this to cause you pain?¡¯ I asked, ripping another node out of its body. It screamed in agony, its voice shrill like metal grinding on metal. ¡®Kevin, are you torturing the familiar? Why?¡¯ Krissy asked. I¡¯d almost forgotten she could hear my part of the conversation. ¡®I¡¯m not torturing her. I¡¯m severing its connection with the woman.¡¯ I said to Krissy. ¡®It¡¯s painful, I know, I¡¯ve done it to myself once.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ Krissy said, then relayed the happenings to Tovaron Ento. ¡®Stop ¡­ please!¡¯ the spirit begged. Unfortunately for it, there was no stopping. I tore the remaining few nodes out of its body. It screamed, it begged, and I knew I was probably coming across as cruel ¡ª an evil spirit indeed ¡ª but I firmly believed it had to be done for the sake of the now ex-spiritualist. I observed my tentie-work: the loose Essence wires dangled freely inside the woman¡¯s soul exactly the same way I¡¯d seen them in the drill sergeant elf¡¯s soul ¡­ what was his name again? Fenirig-Arte. I wondered what had happened to that man to end up like that. Had his familiar tried to eat him? If yes, then how had he got away? Had a wandering Tentacle Horror taken care of his familiar for him, too? I wondered if he¡¯d be willing to answer some questions. But that had to wait, and I focused on the familiar. It hadn¡¯t been my intention to torture the familiar, but pain was pain, and I¡¯d be remiss if I didn¡¯t take advantage of the situation. So I lifted a tentacle again, reaching for another, unused node in the familiar¡¯s body, pretending that I was going to tear it out. ¡®Please, I¡¯ll talk, I¡¯ll talk,¡¯ the spirit cried. I lowered my tentie ¡ª the spirit was more than ready and willing to answer my questions now. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s start with the basics,¡¯ I said to it. ¡®Do you have a name?¡¯ ¡®Tilry,¡¯ it squealed a reply immediately. *** I wasn¡¯t paying any mind to the ongoings around me ¡ª questioning Tilry had my undivided attention. I was only vaguely aware that team after team of elven rangers were arriving, talking with Tovaron Ento, shedding tears for their dead comrades, then gawking at the downed spiritualist, then at Krissy and the sailors who stood behind her now, as if guarding her. Krissy made no secret of how unhappy she was with me: she complained, she demanded answers, but I just told her to wait until I had finished interrogating Tilry. I asked every single question I could think of. When I ran out of questions, I racked my brain for more. Krissy was getting tired of listening to me, but not hearing the familiar¡¯s answers. She laid down on the grass, trying to relax. Even Kenta and Tommy sat down, and Krissy delegated to them the job of shooing Tovaron Ento away every time he came for an update. Almost an hour passed, and I pieced an interesting story together from Tilry¡¯s answers. I could finally tell Krissy what I¡¯d learned in a coherent way. *** At the tippy-top of the spiritual pecking order stood the Grand Spirits. They were the ones that had manged to level ¡ª or grow ¡ª to the point where they could afford to expend copious amounts of Essence and Mana in one go, could produce that black Cube thing for familiars, and they themselves could travel freely between what Tilry called the Spirit World and our material reality. Wensah and Sivera fell into this category. The problem was ¡ª their problem, not mine ¡ª that they had not yet established themselves as proper gods. Apparently they needed to set up shrines and hire monks or something, so they could start the business of renting out regular spirits as familiars. It was supposed to be a good deal for everyone involved: the god would collect a tithe of Essence from the familiar, the familiar would get to eat the host¡¯s soul upon his or her death and grow, and the host would get to use Mana ¡ª or the familiar¡¯s power as they called it ¡ª becoming a magical warrior of a sort. As far as Tilry knew, there was no afterlife waiting for the souls of the so called ¡°material races¡±, so it was good deal ¡­ well, maybe. Hell, for instance, seemed to be something people just assumed existed, because evil spirits had to come from somewhere. In the absence of an actual heaven or hell, I had to wonder if there was any other purpose to souls than being food for spirits. There must have been. I was beginning to understand the mystery of why Solace elves had renounced and despised gods and spirits ¡ª whether there was an afterlife or not, they weren¡¯t keen on the kind of spiritual organ donations the familiars required. But Solace elves were the minority it seemed: the material races ¡ª humans, Sitanse elves, dwarves and more ¡ª apparently weren¡¯t fully aware of all the details of what being a spiritualist entailed, and were more than keen to utilize familiars. Still, they weren¡¯t very trusting of gods without long-established shrines. It was the difference between buying a meal at a reputable restaurant or a dodgy-looking street vendor. The two bickering godlings ¡ª Wensah and Sivera ¡ª had been in a competition to see which of them would set up a shrine first, but apparently it wasn¡¯t an easy thing to do without stepping on the toes of the already established gods. Nonetheless, the two of them constantly tried to hinder each other¡¯s efforts, and it seemed I had become become the latest weapon in Wensah¡¯s arsenal. Then there were the familiars. They were the average, working people of the Spirit World, if I could use the term here. They were intelligent creatures, but they had a lot of growing to do if they wanted to amount to anything. They couldn¡¯t travel between their realm and ours, so the more ambitious ones usually signed up with one of the gods to become familiars. Then the god in question would arrange the details through his or her shrines. I had been right about the Black Cube. It was Essence, altered and refined by a god, or Grand Spirit, or whatever they called themselves. Familiars were unable to eat souls, so they used the Cube to dilute it to the point they could absorb it. Of course when they ate a diluted soul, they also ate the black, godly Essence. The black stuff then would enable the familiar to make a single, one way trip back to the Spirit World. Somehow. I had asked Tilry about the Spirit World, but she¡¯d said she couldn¡¯t describe it with words. Yes, Tilry was a she. Sort of. As it turned out, I had also been right about familiars taking on some of their hosts¡¯ characteristics. Tilry was currently on her third stint as a familiar ¡ª all her previous hosts women ¡ª so she had slowly began to resemble them in appearance. It was an unconscious process, as far as Tilry could tell. She had expressed that she didn¡¯t care whether I called her he, she, it, bitch, bastard or anything else, as long as I didn¡¯t torture her again. Tilry was terrified of me ¡ª she had been since the moment she¡¯d first seen me, even more than she had been of the crab-spider. This was the reason she had thrown all the rules of being a familiar out a window, and tried to eat her host alive. She ¡­ had wanted escape back to the Spirit World, to get away from the most horrifying evil spirit she¡¯d ever seen or even heard of ¡ª her words. That was how she saw me. Tentacle Horrors had a bad reputation, didn¡¯t they? Evil Spirits ¡ª the third type of spirits Tilry had told me about ¡ª were more or less what I had suspected them to be. They were the wild, instinct-driven animals of the Spirit World: deadly predators preying on spirits, souls ¡ª and if they managed to grow enough ¡ª even gods. I was beginning to understand why Wensah¡¯s first thought had been to kill me upon discovering I wasn¡¯t where she¡¯d left me. I didn¡¯t like it, but I understood: I wasn¡¯t just a vague and general threat to material creatures and familiars ¡ª I was a potential threat to a Grand Spirit. To her. She really had taken a gamble with me, hadn¡¯t she? I could ¡­ actually respect that. *** Krissy hadn¡¯t bothered to sit up ¡ª she had been listening to my tale, lying on the grass, watching the clouds and humming or asking questions occasionally. She took it quite well, in fact, she seemed to be somewhat relived when I mentioned the afterlife not being a thing at all. I supposed she could stop worrying about an evil spirit like me dragging her soul to hell, or something like that. To be honest, even I felt a little better, now that I knew I hadn¡¯t robbed Jevan or that pirate-looking guy of their chances to go to heaven or hell. ¡®Is everything okay? Too much information?¡¯ I asked Krissy. ¡®I see,¡¯ she said. ¡®See what?¡¯ I asked, not understanding. ¡®So ¡­ the familiar is a her, and her name is Tilry,¡¯ she said with a wondering voice, then she hummed a few times. I felt a chill running down my non-existent spine. ¡®Krissy, you¡¯re ¡­ not thinking about replacing me, are you?¡¯ Chapter Thirty-six Chapter Thirty-six Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain wanted to smile, but she was too tired and rattled by what had happened. Besides, she was sure that Kevin would have been able to somehow see it, even beneath her misery mask. She wasn¡¯t considering replacing the spirit, especially not with a familiar that had tried to eat her master alive ¡ª although she wasn¡¯t entirely convinced that same danger didn¡¯t exist with Kevin. In any case, she thought it couldn¡¯t hurt to teach her own evil spirit not to take her for granted. Then an unbidden and uncomfortable question surfaced in her mind. If she really and honestly thought about it, which of them needed the other more? She hadn¡¯t really done anything because ¡­ she couldn¡¯t. Was she ... useless? Did the spirit need her for anything else than having a host to move around with? Anyone could be that host. Krisstintha shuddered as she though about her own helplessness ¡ª not just in the face of the evil spirit and its hosts, but even before. She wasn¡¯t a soldier or a warrior. She wasn¡¯t even a craftsman; beyond embroidery and most recently ropes for a ship, she hadn¡¯t done or made anything useful for the past nineteen years of her life. All she knew was how to threaten and order people around. It was a useful skill to have, but without her father¡¯s authority behind her, it was nothing but empty bravado. Without Kevin¡¯s presence, Quenta and Tommi or the elves could have easily decided to just be done with her. Without the strange spirit who claimed to have been human once, Krissintha had nothing. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, Kevin, I was just thinking out loud,¡¯ she said. ¡®Our partnership stands.¡¯ Ah! You scared me there for a moment. Kevin said, sounding relieved. *** Krissintha had counted at least six ranger teams ¡ª almost twenty elves. Some had ran off and never came back, then new ones had arrived. They had collected the dead into one place, laying them out next to each other, and even a couple of single-horse carts had appeared from somewhere to transport the bodies. Tovaron Ento came over again ¡ª the man looked haggard, his eyes reddened, and Krissintha could see how much effort he was making to hide his grief and anger. She knew rather well what it was like to lose someone close and she suspected the woman that had died ¡ª Ardeela Something ¡ª must have been an old and good friend. But despite the loss, Tovaron Ento was conduncting himself a hundred times tougher and more professional than she had when her family had been killed or been dragged away to be executed. She envied how the elf managed to keep his composure. Krissintha took her misery mask off. It wasn''t uncomfortable to wear it, the smoky smell was almost completely gone, but as she removed it she felt like she had been let out of a prison cell. Quenta and Tommi followed suit, then all three masks vanished out of a sudden. ¡®How did you do that?¡¯ Tovaron Ento asked, squinting his eyes, looking at her empty hand that had held the mask a moment ago. ¡®My familiar,¡¯ she said, not explaining any further. The elf shrugged and looked down at the still unconscious woman on the ground. ¡®How is she doing? Is she ¡­ going to wake up? Can we move her now?¡¯ he asked. Krissintha looked down at the elf woman, too, relaying Kevin''s assessment to Tovaron Ento. ¡®Her name is ¡­ Kitala Iwani, and ¡­ she is no longer a spiritualist. My familiar severed her connection with hers,¡¯ she explained. ¡®Her body is fine, but her soul is ¡­ damaged. I don¡¯t know if or when she will wake up.¡¯ ¡®Is a familiar¡¯s pact so easily undone?¡¯ Tovaron Ento asked. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t say easily,¡¯ she said. ¡®Her familiar thought she was being tortured, but ¡­ it was the familiar who broke the rules in the first place.¡¯ ¡®What happened to it? Is it here?¡¯ the ranger asked. ¡®She¡¯s right about there, floating above her,¡¯ Krissintha said, pointing at empty air above the woman. ¡®She?¡¯ Tovaron Ento asked. Don¡¯t you dare! I¡¯ll eat you right now! She heard Kevin¡¯s angry thoughts, probably directed at the faimiliar. What¡¯s going on? Krissintha asked. Tilry was trying to very sneakily attach herself to Toven! She¡¯s really starting to get on my nerves. When she¡¯s not begging me not to eat her, she¡¯s crying about being left behind in this spot for all eternity. ¡®Yes, its a ¡­ she, kind of,¡¯ Krissintha explained to the ranger. ¡®Listen, do you know anyone who wants a familiar? She¡¯s bothering mine.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve been paying attention ¡­¡¯ the elf said, scowling at her. ¡®¡­ but Solace is the wrong place to be asking this question, Misery.¡¯ And look at that! Now she says she loves you, Krissy. Just be quiet, Tilry, will you? Krissintha shuddered. It wasn¡¯t even evening yet, and this day had already been too long and filled to the brim with all kinds of unpleasantness she¡¯d never wanted to experience. And now there was another, whiny familiar? Tovaron Ento called over two rangers, who then took Kitala Iwani away, cradling her between them as carefully as they could. ¡®We¡¯ll be heading back to the outpost. I have to report to Master Fenar, and I need you to be there to confirm that the evil spirit is gone,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, almost growling, almost failing to suppress his emotions. He looked over to the carts and the rangers working in reverent silence, loading the dead bodies onto them. ¡®We¡¯ll be leaving shortly. Be ready.¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re ready whenever you are,¡¯ Krissintha said. The man walked away, heading back to his comrades. She turned back to where she thought the familiar was and said, ¡®What do you want to do with her, Kevin?¡¯ A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I don¡¯t know. The thing is, she knows what I am, so I can¡¯t just let her go around telling everyone. Maybe I really should just eat ¡­ stop screaming, Tilry, stop screaming! Krissintha shook her head. For a brief moment she considered asking Kevin if he could make it so she could talk to Tilry, but she dismissed the idea immediately. It was too much trouble, and they were about to leave soon. She sighed. ¡®Listen Tilry,¡¯ she said, looking at the air in front of her. ¡®You heard the man: people don¡¯t like spirits around here. I¡¯ll try to ask around, but ¡­ no promises. We¡¯ll come back for you later, so stop screaming.¡¯ She says she loves you very, very much. Kevin said, his thoughts sounding like groaning. ¡®Has she quieted down?¡¯ she asked. More or less. ¡®Good,¡¯ Krissintha said, then turned around and beckoned to Quenta and Tommi. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s go. The elves are leaving.¡¯ *** The sun had already disappeared behind the distant mountain range by the time Krissintha saw the small farmstead the rangers had been using as an outpost. The moon was climbing up in the sky, and even a few stars were there, blinking down at the world. Krissintha was tired. Worse than that, on the way back, she had time to think about everything that had happened, time for it to sink in, time for her to realise it had all been real and not just a bad dream. She couldn¡¯t keep the images away from her mind. She had seen people die before ¡ª it had never been a pleasant sight ¡ª but people collapsing to the ground, dead, their invisible souls eaten by an invisible spirit was ¡­ terrifying. Being stabbed, beaten or drowned was at least something she could see and understand. The soul? She had no idea how it worked, and she wasn¡¯t sure knowing it would be any better. But she was alive, Quenta and Tommi were alive, and even Akela ¡­ Akela, where are you? she asked, hoping the hound could hear her thought. Pack. Mate. Akela¡¯s growly thoughts came. What does that mean? Krissy asked. I think it means he¡¯s with that wolf-lady. He¡¯s not too far, I think, a couple hundred paces behind us, maybe. Kevin said. Those dead wolves ¡­ were her pack? She asked. I think so. Misty may be the only one left. Kevin said. Misty? Yes, I named her Misty. You know, she has misty grey fur. Kevin said. How very ¡­ imaginative. Krissy said. Well, she needed a name. I have a feeling she will soon be family. *** Most of the rangers and the two carts took a turn and headed to one of the barn-like, wooden buildings in the fields surrounding the settlement. Tovaron Ento took Krissintha and the sailors to one of the stone houses, but not the same one as last time. He knocked on the door, an elf opened it, and they walked in. Fenirig Arte was waiting for them, sitting at a table in the middle, a stack of papers, ink and quill in front of him. ¡®Could have gone a lot worse,¡¯ the scarred, short haired elf said without any preamble, or even looking up, staring at the paper sheet he was holding. ¡®It¡¯s bad compared to last time, but much better compared to the time before that.¡¯ He put the paper on the table, looked at Tovaron Ento first, then at Krissintha and the sailors. He hummed once, then said, ¡®Gileri Enda¡¯s says Sivera¡¯s people took the brunt of it, but it was the masked spiritualist who dealt the final blow with ¡­¡¯ he glanced at the paper he had just put down ¡®¡­ with a huge wave of power, obliterating the hosts of the evil spirit.¡¯ Tovaron Ento glanced at Krissintha and said, ¡®She seems to have a powerful familiar.¡¯ ¡®I take it the evil spirit is gone then, not just the hosts?¡¯ Fenirig Arte asked Krissintha. ¡®It¡¯s gone, sir,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Gilen also said there was some spirit-fuckery happening with the surviving member of Sivera¡¯s idiots.¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, scowling at Krissintha. ¡®Anything dangerous I should know about?¡¯ ¡®Nothing dangerous. We negated the pact between the woman and her familiar. The spirit is ¡­ still there. Waiting. I thought that maybe ¡­¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®You thought wrong,¡¯ Fenirig Arte cut her short. ¡®The bastards are near immortal, so let it rot where you left it. Or better, shove the invisible piece of shit on one of your men, and take it with you when you leave. Speaking of which, you are leaving soon, correct?¡¯ Krissintha fought down the urge to gulp, then looked Fenirig Arte in the eyes and said, ¡®Well, before that, there is the matter of payment for our services,¡¯ Krissintha said, trying to look and sound confident. ¡®Careful what you say next, Misery Mask!¡¯ Fenirig Arte warned, his voice low, his eyes narrow. ¡®If you want to babble about setting up a shrine to you god here, just know that I do not hate the idea of flaying spiritualists alive.¡¯ This time Krissintha gulped. She was sure that Kevin could protect her, or even kill everyone in the room if he so wished ¡ª not that she wanted it to come to that. But for some inexplicable reason, she was scared of the scarred elf. But she steadied herself, mustered all her courage, drawing on everything she knew about being confident and said, ¡®No, Master Fenirig Arte, I don¡¯t care about shrines.¡¯ ¡®Then why in the name of hell are you here? Why did your bitch-of-a-god send you?¡¯ Fenirig Arte asked, eyebrows raised. ¡®I don¡¯t know what Wensah wants, and I don¡¯t care,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®But we did help get rid of the evil spirit, and I have a personal request I¡¯d like you to grant me.¡¯ ¡®Personal request? This could be interesting,¡¯ the man said, finally standing up from his chair. He walked around the table to stand a mere step away from Krissintha. She had to tilt her head up to look at him. A strange smile appeared on the man¡¯s face, and Krissintha was sure the elf was already planning the insults and curses to use while denying her request. ¡®So, what is it?¡¯ Krissintha glanced over at Tovaron Ento, then back at Fenirig Arte. ¡®I think Tovaron Ento can attest to my familiar being quite powerful,¡¯ she said, then paused. ¡®Go on,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, his voice filled with an evil kind of anticipation. ¡®But he can also tell you that I myself am somewhat inexperienced as a fighter,¡¯ she continued. Fenirig Arte looked at the other elf. ¡®She¡¯s ¡­ useless,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, shrugging. Krissintha gave the elf a murderous glare, but this wasn¡¯t the time scold him. She continued. ¡®I want one of your men to teach me swordsmanship,¡¯ she said. Then nothing happened. The flood of insults she¡¯d expected did not come. Fenirig Arte stood straight, looking at her without blinking, as if studying her. The man¡¯s silence unnerved her even more than the casual threats of violence she had received from him before. Then Fenirig Arte took a deep breath and burst into a deep, rumbling laughter. What the hell? Was this ¡­ funny to him? ¡®Master Fe ¡­¡¯ Krissintha started to say, but the man lifted a hand to stop her. He fought his laughter down, composed himself, then said, ¡®Well, this is the first thing I¡¯ve heard today that didn¡¯t piss me off.¡¯ ¡®So ¡­ you will ¡­¡¯ Krissintha tried to speak, only to be hushed again. ¡®No,¡¯ the man said. ¡®Swordsmanship will not help you.¡¯ ¡®But ¡­¡¯ Krissintha tried to argue, and she was stopped for a third time. ¡®Knowing how to wield a weapon, any weapon, is the least important of the skills you can have,¡¯ he said. ¡®It¡¯s your mind, your body, your attitudes, discipline, habits, determination ¡­ these are the things that will make you a decent fighter. Learning how to swing a sword comes after. But no. For you, even that won¡¯t be enough,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, then turned to Tovaron Ento. ¡®Toven, find out if there¡¯s room for one more among the next batch of fresh trainees!¡¯ ¡®Master Fenar!¡¯ Tovaron Ento protested immediately. ¡®You can¡¯t be serious ¡­¡¯ ¡®Toven, I will fill your mouth with horse shit and sew it shut!¡¯ the man roared at him, seemingly in a good mood all of a sudden. ¡®Go and find out which trainee teams I¡¯m scheduled to train myself, and put this wench into one of them.¡¯ Fenirig Arte then turned back to Krissintha and let out long, delightful sigh, smiling at her. ¡®You have just made my day, Misery Mask. You wouldn¡¯t believe how long I¡¯ve been waiting to see a spiritualist crawling in the mud before me on a daily basis.¡¯ Krissintha was beginning to think that this had been a bad idea. Chapter Thirty-seven Chapter Thirty-seven Krissintha Arlonet Dar-Ghelain muttered a silent curse. She sat on a bed, on a straw filled mattress, looking down at the floor, struggling to hold her tears back. The two sailors ¡ª sitting on the other bed on the opposite side of the room ¡ª were silent, watching her, offering no comfort or distraction for the moment. Krissintha had nothing to do but to wait and to curse the fate she had created for herself. All she had wanted was to learn how to wield a sword so she could defend herself if Kevin was ¡­ otherwise occupied. She had felt offended by Toavarn Ento calling her useless, but she knew he was right. She didn¡¯t want to be useless. Or defenceless. Asking for a little training had seemed like a good idea at the time. ¡®My lady,¡¯ Quenta said out of a sudden. ¡®Are you sure about this? Training as ¡­ a ranger or whattchacallit?¡¯ ¡®No, Quenta, I¡¯m absolutely not sure about this,¡¯ Krissintha wailed, burying her face in her palms, forsaking her mask of confidence and superiority that she¡¯d been wearing in front of the sailors ever since they¡¯d met. ¡®Fenirig Arte is planning to murder me, I¡¯m sure of it.¡¯ ¡®Oh, I see!¡¯ Tommi exclaimed. ¡®So ¡­ it¡¯s like an accident during trainin¡¯ sort of plot, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ ¡®Not helping, Tommi, not helping!¡¯ Krissintha sobbed, her face still buried in her hands. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t be worryin¡¯ too much if I were you, my lady,¡¯ Quenta said, ¡®From what I seen, these rangers are a well organised military. That scarred fella ain¡¯t gonna be able to put an outsider into it just on a whim. I¡¯m sure they got rules and regulations. And if he wanted us dead, we¡¯d be sleepin¡¯ in a shallow grave already.¡¯ Kenta¡¯s got a point, Krissy. Kevin said. ¡®You think so?¡¯ Krissintha asked, looking up at the sailors. ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Quenta said. ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Tommi said. Yeah. Kevin said. ¡®Listen, my lady,¡¯ Quenta said in a suspiciously calming tone. ¡®We¡¯ve been waitin¡¯ ¡®ere for a while now. It¡¯s late, it¡¯s been a long fukken¡¯ day, let¡¯s get some shut-eye. We can go thinkin¡¯ ¡®bout this tomorrow.¡¯ ¡®Alright,¡¯ Krissy said, rubbing her eyes. ¡®Sleep. That¡¯s good.¡¯ ¡®Kevin? Watch duty as always?¡¯ Quenta asked, looking somewhere above Krissintha. Aye-aye captain! Kevin said. ¡®Yeah, he¡¯ll keep watch,¡¯ Krissintha said. Someone knocked on the door. Everyone froze. It¡¯s Tovaron Ento. Kevin informed Krissintha. ¡®Tommi,¡¯ Krissintha said, panic returning to her in a hurry. The younger sailor jumped up to open the door. The elf walked in. Krissintha¡¯s stomach shrunk and lurched, half expecting the man to announce that her training under the dreaded Master Fenirig Arte is to begin immediately and without delay. Tovaron Ento stopped in front of Krissintha. She stood up, her legs trembling. ¡®I need you to come with me, Misery,¡¯ the elf said. Krissintha felt like the room was spinning and swirling around her, the cold, steel-grey eyes of the elf the only thing not moving, boring into her as if mocking her and laughing at her impending doom. ¡®W¡­ why?¡¯ she asked, almost stuttering. ¡®The women, Kitala Iwani,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said. ¡®She woke up, and ¡­ we can¡¯t calm her down. She¡¯s demanding to see you.¡¯ ¡®Me?¡¯ Krissintha asked, not understanding for a moment what she had to do with the elf woman. ¡®Well, ¡°the masked bitch who killed her familiar¡±. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a stretch to say she means you,¡¯ the elf explained. Krissintha breathed out long and slow, closed her eyes, thanking all the gods, shrines, spirits and even the lords of hell. Then she opened her eyes and said, ¡®Alright, let¡¯s go.¡¯ *** Krissintha left the house with the elf, leaving Quenta and Tommi in the room. At least the two of them would get to sleep a little, Krissintha thought, a little jealous of them now. But she couldn¡¯t really complain: having to talk to the ex-spiritualist wasn¡¯t as bad a prospect as crawling in the mud under the hateful, rage-filled gaze of the scarred elf, wondering when a fatal accident would accidentally happen, killing her by accident. She really hated the word accident all of a sudden. It took them half a minute to walk to another house a few dozen paces away. Tovaron Ento knocked, and a ranger opened the door. Krissintha followed the elf inside. Two rangers, a man and a woman, stood guard near the door. Tovaron Ento nodded his head to them, and the two relaxed a little. Kitala Iwani sat quietly on a settee at the opposite end of the room, near the stairway leading to the upstairs corridor. The woman lifted her head, her eyes snapping to look at Krissintha. ¡®Well, I brought her.¡¯ Tovaron Ento said to her. Unlike before, Krissintha got to have a good, calm look at the woman now. She suspected Kitala Iwani was considered to be a rare beauty even amongst the elves. And she was probably the owner of the most menacing death-glare, too ¡ª her pale, green eyes, glowering at Krissintha from beneath her untied hair, promised nothing but murder. ¡®A human?¡¯ Kitala Iwani asked, her voice coarse and raspy, the exact opposite of what Krissintha remembered it to be. ¡®Yes. A human. She¡¯s the one who ¡­¡¯ Tovaron Ento began to explain, but didn¡¯t get to finish. Krissintha¡¯s heart nearly jumped out of her chest as Kitala Iwani sprung up. She didn¡¯t even have the time to blink or to flinch ¡ª with two impossible leaps the elf woman was in front of her, her arms reaching for her neck. From the corner of her eye Krissintha saw the rangers move, but they¡¯d been caught just as off guard as she had been. But not Kevin. Blue flashes of power slammed into the attacking elf ¡ª one moment she was an inch away from grabbing her throat, the next she was flung across the room, against the wall behind the settee she¡¯d been sitting on. But she didn¡¯t fall down: Kitala Iwani stayed there, pressed against the wall paces above the ground, as if held up by invisible arms. For a moment Krissintha saw momentary flashes of Kevin¡¯s power painting a vague outline in front of her. It looked like ¡­ tentacles. Tentacles coiling around the elf woman''s limbs, pressing her against the wall. It had only been a split second, but Krissintha was sure that¡¯s what she had seen. Kitala Iwani squirmed, stuck to the wall and unable to free herself from Kevin''s invisible grasp. The guards as well as Tovaron Ento halted and gawked at the spectacle of the floating woman. Huh! Thanks, Kevin. That scared me. Krissintha sent a thought of thanks to the spirit. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I got your back, Krissy, don¡¯t you worry! The reply came. ¡®What in the fuck?¡¯ Tovaron Ento almost yelled, stepping forward, looking back and forth between Krissintha and the other woman. The two guards looked just as confused as he was, their hands on the hilts of their swords, unsure if they should draw them. ¡®I told you. It¡¯s an evil spirit. She¡¯s got an evil spirit,¡¯ Kitala Iwani screamed. ¡®What have you done with my familiar?¡¯ ¡®Is it really an evil spirit?¡¯ Tovaron Ento demanded, pointing at Kitala Iwani. ¡®How is your familiar doing that? This isn¡¯t normal.¡¯ Oh no, she blabbered, didn¡¯t she? Kevin wailed. ¡®Do you really think I could make an evil spirit my familiar?¡¯ Krissintha asked the elf. ¡®I don¡¯t know. Can you?¡¯ Tovaron Ento said. ¡®Is your familiar an evil spirit?¡¯ Krissintha took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She had to say something, there was no other choice. Lie? An outright lie might be enough for Toven, but not for the crazed, screaming woman, trying to free herself from Kevin¡¯s ¡­ tentacles. Krissintha¡¯s father had always said the best lies had a little bit of truth sprinkled on them, and if you could sneak in some insults as well, then you had a winner. Krissintha opened her eyes and glared at the woman shaped wall ornament, then turned to Tovaron Ento. ¡®She¡¯s not ¡­ wrong, in a way,¡¯ she began to say. Oi, Krissy, what are you doing? Kevin¡¯s panicked thoughts echoed in her mind. ¡®You know spirits can see each other, right?¡¯ she asked the elf, ignoring Kevin. ¡®I¡¯m aware,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, squinting at her. ¡®Well, that woman¡¯s familiar has seen mine. They even talked with each other,¡¯ Krissintha continued. ¡®It¡¯s not the first time a familiar or a spiritualist panicked a little. You see, my familiar is more powerful than most. You¡¯ve seen that yourself already, haven¡¯t you? And apparently he¡¯s also ¡­ ugly.¡¯ ¡®Ugly?¡¯ Tovaron Ento said, his eyebrows shooting up. Ugly? Kevin demanded, his thoughts sounding ¡­ not happy at all. ¡®Yes. Ugly. I mean ¡­ offensively so. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been told, and thank the gods you and I can¡¯t see him,¡¯ Krissintha said ignoring the spirit. ¡®Most spiritualists we came across treat us with respect,¡¯ she said, then glared at Kitala Iwani before continuing. ¡®I never would have thought there are idiots who would attack us on account of not meeting their beauty standards. I mean ¡­ would you insult me, or attack me, because I¡¯m not as pretty as ¡­ an elven woman?¡¯ Tovaron Ento looked Krissintha up and down, then glanced over at Kitala Iwani, then he shook his head. ¡®No,¡¯ he said. Krissintha scowled at him. ¡®See? Same thing,¡¯ she said. ¡®And on that note, you could at least reassure me that I¡¯m pretty enough for a human,¡¯ she grumbled. ¡®Oh, uh ¡­ yes, you are,¡¯ the elf said, suddenly flustered. ¡®Thanks, Toven,¡¯ Krissintha said with a smile, deliberately calling him by what seemed to be the casual, informal way to say elven names. It was always good to sneak mundanity and familiarity into arguments, throwing your opponent at least a little off balance. That was mean, Krissy. Kevin complained. It¡¯s better if they think you¡¯re just ugly instead of evil. Krissintha argued. Yeah, that too, but I meant Kitala Iwani. He said. What do you mean? She asked, not understanding what the spirit was getting at. Look, the woman just lost all her friends to an evil spirit, and we took her familiar away from her right after. I¡¯m not an expert or a psychologist, but she isn¡¯t in her right mind, is she?¡¯ Krissintha glanced at the woman, still up on the wall, struggling against Kevin¡¯s invisible tentacles in vain. Setting aside whatever a saikologist was, she wasn¡¯t convinced. She glanced at Tovaron Ento. Toven lost people, too, and he¡¯s taking it quite well. She argued. Toven is a trained soldier ¡­ or ranger, or whatever. The woman is probably just being bossed around by Sivera the same way we are by Wensah. Kevin said. That may be so, but ¡­ what do you want me to do? Krissintha asked. Be nice. Ask her if she wants her familiar back. Kevin suggested. Be nice? That¡¯s rich coming from a spirit-kraken who eats souls and is holding the woman in his tentacles! Krissy retorted. At least try! I feel bad for her. Kevin pleaded. Is it because she is the most beautiful woman either of us had ever seen? She asked, making sure her thoughts carried a good deal of scorn. Uhm ¡­ partly. Yes. But, she really could use some ¡­ I don¡¯t know. Comforting? Also I don¡¯t think anyone else here will be willing to take Tilry, so she¡¯s our best chance if we don¡¯t want to leave that whiny spirit to rot there for all eternity Maybe she¡¯ll have her back. Kevin said. Krissintha took a deep breath, then looked at the elf woman. Kitala Iwani had stopped struggling, and it looked like she was done hurling her rage-filled insults at her, quietly sobbing instead. Maybe Kevin was right. ¡®I¡¯ll release her and ¡­ talk to her, if you don¡¯t mind, Toven,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®That¡¯s fine,¡¯ the elf said, then he spoke a few words in the elven tongue, some to the guards, some to Kitala Iwani. Alright, Kevin, bring her down, please. Krissintha said. *** Kitala Iwani sat on the settee once again. Krissintha pulled a chair and sat down facing her. Tovaron Ento and the two rangers stood slightly behind Krissintha, this time ready to react and intervene if anything happened, but Krissintha was sure the elven woman wasn¡¯t keen to feel Kevin¡¯s cold touch on her again, so she wasn¡¯t worried. Krissintha thought about how to start this whole ¡°comforting¡± business with the elven woman ¡ª it wasn¡¯t really her forte. It would have been much easier if she could just tell her what¡¯s what and be done with it, but ¡­ Kevin had asked her to be nice. Whatever that meant. Compromise it was. ¡®Listen, Kitala Iwani,¡¯ she started, addressing her using her full name. ¡®You have my sympathy. Losing comrades and friends is ¡­ a tragedy.¡¯ she said, meaning the words. ¡®It was a particularly powerful evil spirit, not often seen,¡¯ she continued, trying her best to make it sound like she wasn¡¯t just guessing. ¡®But it¡¯s gone now. As to your familiar ¡­ well, it was trying to kill you, so I asked my familiar to break the pact before it could consume your soul.¡¯ ¡®Consume my soul? Evil spirits consume souls. Not familiars,¡¯ Kitala Iwani growled, spitting the words. ¡®You and your spirit had no right to kill mine.¡¯ Krissintha just shook her head. She wasn¡¯t in the mood to explain to her the finer points of soul-based dining ¡ª as Kevin had put it once ¡ª and even if she wanted to, she didn¡¯t know that much about it. So, she decided to get to the point. ¡®We didn¡¯t kill your familiar. If you want her back, she is alive and well, waiting where we left her,¡¯ she said to the elf woman. Kitala Iwani almost jumped up from the settee. Krissintha could easily guess what thoughts flashed through the woman¡¯s mind as she stared at her with her eyes wide and mouth hung open. ¡®Her?¡¯ the elf finally asked. ¡®Yeah, sort of. Her name is Tilry,¡¯ she said. ¡®And before you ask how I know: my familiar spoke with yours, and he told me. Tilry ¡­ has calmed down and she doesn¡¯t want to be left alone. So, if you want her back, all you need to do is to go see her. Maybe the two of you can have a chat.¡¯ ¡®Familiars don¡¯t talk to ¡­¡¯ Kitala Iwani started to argue, but Krissintha cut her short. ¡®They do. Monks, for instance, converse with them all the time. I¡¯m something like that,¡¯ she lied. ¡®And I¡¯m sure Tilry will be willing to at least apologise for trying to eat your soul.¡¯ Kitala Iwani stared at her without blinking, seemingly at a loss for words. ¡®Well, I¡¯ll leave you to think about it,¡¯ Krissintha said as she stood up. ¡®If you have any questions, you can ask. I probably don¡¯t have the answers.¡¯ Kitala Iwani didn¡¯t say a word, and Krissintha walked to the door. That went well. A little blunt and not very comforting, but it went well. Kevin commented. What did you expect? That I lay her down and give her a belly-rub? Krissintha sent the thought, adding a mental scoff. *** Krissintha followed Tovaron Ento back to the house that had been assigned to them as their lodgings. She didn¡¯t know how long they were going to stay here ¡ª no-one had told her anything about what she could expect to happen tomorrow, or after that. All she knew was that she had managed to dig her own grave by asking Fenirig Arte for a favour, and now that Kitala Iwani was out of her mind, the dread had been quick to return. Tovaron Ento hadn¡¯t said anything on the way back to their lodging ¡ª no complaints, no questions, no demands. They reached the door, the elf knocked on it, and the armed ranger who was staying downstairs ¡ª presumably to keep an eye on the humans by pretending to guard them ¡ª opened the door. Tovaron Ento waved good-bye and was about to turn to leave, but Krissintha called out to him. ¡®Toven, listen,¡¯ she said, then it occurred to her that while she had called him Toven a couple of times already, it might not have been appropriate. ¡®Is calling you Toven ¡­ alright, or is it impolite?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s fine. Casual, but fine,¡¯ he said, turning back to face her. ¡®Is there anything you need?¡¯ Krissintha narrowed her eyes, studying the elf¡¯s admittedly handsome face. He seemed colder or stiffer than before, and it certainly didn¡¯t look like he was up for banter, not this time. ¡®I want to say two things,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Firstly, I understand why you find us suspicious. I don¡¯t really care, to be honest, but I want you to know that we don¡¯t want to force anything on any of you. Not shrines, not familiars, not anything else.¡¯ ¡®Alright,¡¯ the elf said, looking at her almost blankly. Krissintha had got used to the elf either smiling or frowning, and his expressionless face and cold demeanor was disconcerting. ¡®What¡¯s the other thing?¡¯ ¡®Well, it¡¯s about Master Fenirig Arte, and ¡­¡¯ ¡®Oh, the ranger training?¡¯ he asked, and Krissintha was almost happy to see the man¡¯s mouth twitching upward, even if she knew it was a sign of some sort of glee at her potential death at the scarred elf¡¯s hands. ¡®Yeah. That,¡¯ she said. ¡®All I wanted was to learn swordsmanship. I¡¯ve never fought with a sword, or ¡­ at all. I just ¡­¡¯ ¡®Well, don¡¯t worry too much,¡¯ Tovaron Ento said. ¡®Even Master Fenar won¡¯t be able to go against regulations. There is no way he can put a human spiritualist into ranger training on a whim, no matter how much he wants to torment you.¡¯ ¡®Huh! That¡¯s a relief,¡¯ she said, sighing. ¡®Is there anything else, Misery?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Uhm, no. That¡¯s all,¡¯ ¡®Good night then,¡¯ the elf said and walked away. Chapter Thirty-eight Chapter Thirty-eight Tovaron Ento woke us up in the morning. He told Krissy and the sailors to get ready, then we marched over to a small plot of land behind one of the large barns. The pyres were already there ¡ª nine of them ¡ª with a dead body lying on top of each. I didn¡¯t like funerals, but it was one of those things you just had to attend when you received that phone call or letter that a relative or a friend had died. It wasn¡¯t the sad, sombre nature of it that I disliked ¡ª the dead deserved a final, respectful farewell. It was all the people you hadn¡¯t seen in ages congregating ¡ª so called friends and relatives ¡ª most of whom you didn¡¯t even know the names of, or only had vague memories of ever meeting. Awkward moments were plenty at funerals. I could only imagine how my own funeral could have gone. Had all my cousins been there? Old school friends? Or just my parents and a few close friends? But almost three years had passed since, and it was a futile thing to think about. The elven rangers and the spiritualists had been strangers to us, but attending their funerals was mandatory on account of being there when most of them had died the day before. Being the outsiders ¡ª and humans no less ¡ª made for its own brand of awkward moments. Krissy took the stares and glares from the fifty odd green-caped rangers with a stony face, and since none of us spoke Elvish, we could only guess what the hushed comments could have been about. Kitala Iwani was here, too. She looked a lot better than before ¡ª she had calmed down completely, cleaned up nicely, and was mostly silent. Her fallen comrades occupied four of the nine pyres ¡ª if Kitala Iwani had any issues with the human and the dwarf getting the same kind of funeral as elves, she didn¡¯t show it. Fenirig Arte gave a speech we didn¡¯t understand, and it was him who went around with a torch, lighting the pyres. They must have put oil or some other extremely flammable material under the stacks of wood ¡ª they burned fast and hot. Krissy watched, almost mesmerised, her eyes fixed on the pyre closest to us. I couldn¡¯t feel the heat of it, but I was sure she could. And the bodies burned. Nine of them. I had no idea how many elves in total had fallen prey to the evil spirit in the two or so months between its appearance and its death yesterday. If it started out small like I had and it managed to grow to the size I¡¯d seen, it must have eaten a lot. I kind of understood why the elves had been on edge, and why Toven had entertain Kitala Iwani¡¯s claim yesterday ¡ª the elves weren¡¯t willing to take chances. Does it make me a bad person if I think better them than me? Krissy suddenly asked, still transfixed by the burning pyres. ¡®I¡¯m thinking the same,¡¯ I said to her, and that was the truth. You¡¯re an evil spirit, Kevin, you have that as an excuse. But what about me? She argued, her thoughts sounding somewhat ¡­ troubled. This whole affair must have got to her. ¡®It¡¯s ¡­ normal to think that,¡¯ I said. ¡®Hell, if it had been someone else getting shot in my place, I would have thought better him than me.¡¯ Shot? As in ¡­ someone put an arrow in you? Is that how you died before becoming ¡­ a spirit? She inquired. ¡®Something like that,¡¯ I said. *** It took less than half an hour for the pyres and the bodies to vanish. A number of elves went about collecting the hot ashes into pots that looked almost exactly like urns used on Earth for the same purpose. Fenirig Arte gave another, shorter speech, then dismissed the gathering. I was sure at this point that the scar-faced elf was something like a general or other high-ranking officer ¡ª he seemed to be in charge of the entire ranger contingent present in this farmstead-turned-outpost. I didn¡¯t disagree with Krissy¡¯s desire to learn some form of self-defense, and she was right that the person who could make it happen was none other than Fenirig Arte. I really hoped that Kenta and Toven were right, and it would be impossible for Fenirig Arte to enroll Krissy into a training program of his own, twisted and hellish making ¡ª he really might accidentally or not so accidentally kill her. Tovaron Ento came over to us, dragging Kitala Iwani with him. The elf woman stepped to Krissy ¡ª her demeanor calm and almost professional this time ¡ª and said, ¡®I want my familiar back.¡¯ Krissy looked at Toven, raising her eyebrows. ¡®Whenever you¡¯re ready, Misery,¡¯ the elf said, shrugging and making a face. It seemed Toven¡¯s less serious persona had more or less reasserted itself. Krissy nodded, then beckoned Kenta and Tommi to follow her, and we embarked on a day-trip back to the field where all the nastiness had happened. *** Tilry started yelling and hollering the moment she saw us coming, part scared part overjoyed. I imagined it must have been killing a noisy, chatty spirit to follow the rules of familiarhood, namely that familiars did not talk to their hosts unless absolutely necessary. I wasn¡¯t sure who had come up with this, but it seemed to be the way the shrines and their so called gods did things. Bit Tilry was a loose spirit now, and no-one but I could hear her. Lucky me. Krissy followed my directions, and we arrived at the spot where Tilry was helplessly hovering. I was a little surprised she was still here ¡ª sure, she was too large to use mice or squirrels for hosts, but I imagined a deer or a wolf or at least some foxes must have come by during the night. Perhaps normal spirits had an aversion to animals? Maybe. Tilry stopped all the excited noises, and while it was difficult for me to discern where she was looking ¡ª having a featureless, faceless head ¡ª I thought she might have been staring at Kitala Iwani. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡®Still here I see,¡¯ I sad to the spirit. She turned her head to me, and I could suddenly feel her wary gaze on me. ¡®I ¡­ am,¡¯ she said, then lifted a hand to point at the elven woman. ¡®Why is she here?¡¯ ¡®She wants you back,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®She ¡­ does?¡¯ she said, and it seemed even the ghostly voice of a spirit could crack with emotion. ¡®Apparently,¡¯ I said. ¡®Does she know that ¡­ I ¡­ tried to ¡­¡¯ ¡®Eat her?¡¯ I said. ¡®For some reason she believes familiars can¡¯t or don¡¯t do that. She was convinced we were lying to her.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ she said. ¡®She thought we killed you,¡¯ I explained. ¡®But we told her you¡¯re alive and well, and she wants you back.¡¯ ¡®Are you trying to trick me?¡¯ Tilry asked. I wanted to sigh. I really did. Instead, I stretched all my tenties and surrounded her with them. She shrieked, and I said, ¡®I don¡¯t need to trick you. I could eat you right now if I wanted to. That¡¯s what evil spirits do, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ ¡®Please don¡¯t eat me!¡¯ she pleaded. Kevin, what¡¯s going on? Krissy asked, looking around, trying to see the invisible. ¡®Just a minute, Krissy. I need to make a few things clear to Tilry,¡¯ I said. ¡®Alright,¡¯ Krissy said and explained it to the elves. I turned my attention back to the ex-familiar spirit. ¡®Listen, Tilry,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®I may look like an evil spirit, a Tentacle Horror as you called me yesterday, but I¡¯m not.¡¯ ¡®What are you?¡¯ she asked. ¡®You¡¯re not one of the people, are you?¡¯ I wasn¡¯t sure what she meant by ¡°people¡±. Did normal, intelligent spirits refer to themselves as ¡°people¡±? Maybe. ¡®I don¡¯t know what that means, so let¡¯s just say I¡¯m ¡­ unique.¡¯ I said, not sure at all if that was the case or not. ¡®I don¡¯t go around eating everything that moves. I could, as you have seen, but I don¡¯t. Can you accept that?¡¯ Tilry nodded her faceless head. ¡®Good. Now, having said that, if I find myself visited by angry people or spirits screaming about killing the Tentacle Horror, I will find you, and I will eat you, host and all. You understand? Be a good familiar and don¡¯t talk about things you shouldn¡¯t. Can you do that?¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ can,¡¯ she said hesitantly, then she repeated it more firmly, ¡®I can.¡¯ ¡®Good girl,¡¯ I said. ¡®Girl?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Whatever,¡¯ I said. I withdrew my tenties from Tilry and I said to Krissy, ¡®Right. We¡¯re done. You can tell Kitala Iwani that her familiar is hers again.¡¯ Krissy relayed the message, and I had her point to a spot on the grassy ground for Kitala Iwani to stand, right next to Tilry. Only I could see as Tilry¡¯s genie-like tail pierced the woman¡¯s bronze coloured soul. The normal, regular Essence she injected into it quickly formed wires and connected the spirit to her. Kitala Iwani and Tilry were host and familiar once again. The elf woman looked around, breathing fast, looking scared and excited at the same time. Tilry poked at her soul with a finger where the arm part of it should have been. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Kiwa, I¡¯m really sorry,¡¯ she said. ¡®How is your arm? Any pain?¡¯ Kitala Iwani looked around in a sudden panic, then settled on staring slightly up, probably imagining the spirit there. Then she spoke to Tilry in Elvish. Tilry nodded and hummed, understanding every word. I had been right: language was not a factor in quasi-telepathic chit-chat between spirit and host. I was sure that if I attached myself to an elf, I would understand him or her just fine, regardless of the language used. Not that I had any plans to do so. ¡®What is she saying?¡¯ I asked Tilry. ¡®She says there is a constant, unpleasant sensation in her arm, but it¡¯s not pain,¡¯ Tilry said cautiously. ¡®She says it feels like something is missing.¡¯ ¡®Well, something is missing,¡¯ I commented. Kitala Iwani looked confused for a second ¡ª I could tell she was hearing Tilry just fine, but she couldn¡¯t hear me. Then the woman looked at Krissy and said something in Elvish to Tilry, probably. ¡®Yes, I¡¯m talking with her familiar,¡¯ Tilry said to her. The woman said something else I didn¡¯t understand, then she took a tentative step forward, almost as if unsure whether the spirit would follow. Then she lifted an arm and drew on Tilry¡¯s Mana. She stared as the gathering spritual substance shimmered blue for a moment, then she smiled. She was back in business, wasn¡¯t she, doing whatever it was she was supposed to do for Wensah¡¯s arch-nemesis. As I watched the spiritualist playing around with Tilry''s Mana, I thought it might be time soon to teach Krissy how to do it, too. Maybe tomorrow. ¡®Are we done?¡¯ I asked Tilry. ¡®We are,¡¯ she said, looking at me ¡ª or at least I thought she was looking at me. ¡®Thank ¡­ you?¡¯ ¡®Was that a question?¡¯ I asked. ¡®No. Thank you. And tell Lady Misery that I am grateful.¡¯ *** Kitala Iwani didn¡¯t join us on our trek back to the farmstead ¡ª as Toven had explained, she wasn¡¯t a prisoner and was free to go wherever she wanted to, provided she refrained from trying to set up a shrine to Sivera. That was fine with me, I was glad to be rid of the competition¡¯s employees. Besides, the woman had a lot of grieving to do, a lot of questions to ask Tilry, and probably needed to come up with something to tell Sivera as well. Some alone time would serve them well. In theory we could have gone wherever we wanted to, just like Kitala Iwani could ¡ª we weren¡¯t prisoners either, regardless of how much Ranger Genral Fenirig Arte wanted us to be. But we had nowhere else to be, and the question of Krissy¡¯s sword training was still hanging in the air, so we followed Toven back to the farmstead. The sight that greeted us as we entered the house was probably the scariest, most disturbing thing I had ever seen in either of my lives. Fenirig Arte stood in the middle of the room, leaning on the table, talking with two, serious looking elves. The newcomers were obviously rangers, with their dark green capes and swords and all. One had short, white hair like Fenirig Arte, the other had long silvery hair. Neither of them had any scars, but they still managed to exude the same air of battle-hardened badassery as Fenirig Arte. The icing on the cake was the vicious looking smile on Fenirig Arte¡¯s face. This ¡­ did not bode well. Tovaron Ento snapped to attention as soon as he saw the three men, stiffening like a log. He began to sweat as if we had walked into an oven. The three elves simply turned their heads to look at us, at Krissy in particular, ignoring Tovaron Ento completely, so ¡­ they were high ranking officers? That was my best guess. Fenirig Arte glanced at Toven and asked, ¡®Is that spirit gone with the wench?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir, they¡¯re gone. Somewhere,¡¯ Toven replied. ¡®Good,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, then turned to his compatriots, gesturing towards Krissy. ¡®This is the human spiritualist, Misery Mask, from that stupid sounding Bureau thing.¡¯ The two men nodded and gave Krissy an appraising look. Krissy stiffened, too, breaking out in a sweat just as Toven had. Kenta and Tommy were trying their best to become invisible by the look of it, fading into the background without making so much as a squeak. It was a wise choice as far as I was concerned ¡ª I would have done the same, but I was already invisible. Although, instead of the loathing Fenirig Arte had displayed, the two other officers eyed Krissy with curious, calculating gazes. They definitely wanted something from her. From us. ¡®So, congratulations, Misery, you¡¯re in,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, his grin growing wider, teeth showing, giving the impression of a shark ready to devour its prey. ¡®Uh ¡­ w ¡­ what? In?¡¯ Krissy stuttered, forgetting to employ her mask of confidence. She looked left and right, her eyes settling on Toven. Tovaron Ento gathered his courage and asked, ¡®Master Fenirig Arte, what do you mean ¡°in¡±?¡¯ ¡®Training of course,¡¯ the scar-faced elf said, almost laughing, then took a step towards Toven. ¡®I¡¯m nothing if not gracious and kind-hearted, and since you are a good ranger who has definitely never called me Master Fenar, you will have the honour of teaching this wench the basics.¡¯ Chapter Thirty-nine Chapter Thirty-nine Gracious and kind-hearted? Really? The elves¡¯ opinions of themselves was way too high and biased. I hoped it was just Toven and this monster named Fenirig Arte, because if this was the prevalent mentality among the elves, then I was going to do the impossible and get a headache without having a head. Krissy¡¯s lips began to tremble as soon as she heard Fenirig Arte¡¯s words, but she just stared at him, unable to say anything. ¡®Stop squirming, trainee!¡¯ Fenirig Arte yelled at Krissy. She didn¡¯t dare move a muscle. Toven looked just as terrified, and he was someone who worked and had probably trained under the man. It was not a good sign. I felt more than just tempted to introduce the man¡¯s soul to one or two of my tenties, but no matter how much my Tentacle Horror instinct approved, I knew it would have been a bad idea. ''You don¡¯t have to go through with this, Krissy. We can just leave.'' I said to her. She did not reply ¡ª neither to me, nor to Fenirig Arte. In the end, it was Tovaron Ento who spoke up. ¡®Are ¡­ are you sure about this, Sir?¡¯ he asked Master Fenar. The man turned to look at the other two high-ranking elves. Toven looked at them, too, and they both nodded in approval. ¡®And there you have it,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, smiling like a kid in a candy shop. I wish I could have said his good mood was infectious, but chills and all sorts of bad feeling were running up and down on my nonexistent spine. Tovaron Ento simply nodded, accepting both his and Krissy¡¯s fate. Well, he was a soldier of a sort, a ranger, and orders were orders. But ¡­ why? Why had Fenirig Arte decided it was a good idea to train an outsider? More than that, why had two other high ranking officers agree to it? It must have been more than just the scarred elf¡¯s desire to torture a spiritualist. What was in it for them? Then, as if Fenirig Arte had heard my thoughts, he turned to Krissy and said, ¡®We¡¯ll train you, Misery, as much as a human can be trained. And you will do something for us in return.¡¯ ¡®In ¡­ return? We helped with the evil spirit ¡­ Sir,¡¯ Krissy said, her voice cracking. ¡®You did, you did,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said, still smiling. ¡®That¡¯s why your Bureau sent you here, that¡¯s what you said. So ¡­ no. You wanted a personal favour, and as it happens, we want one, too. Something for something.¡¯ I was shocked: Krissy was considering it, wasn¡¯t she? I could tell she was scared and I had expected her to politely but firmly decline the offer. Instead, she stood in silence, her eyes flicking left and right, thinking hard about this. ''Krissy, what are you thinking? Shouldn¡¯t we be saying goodbye to the elves and go look for your brother or something?'' I asked. She didn¡¯t reply. I wished I could have delved deeper into her mind and read her thoughts directly. ''Krissy! This is a bad idea.'' I tried again. ¡®So? What¡¯s it going to be, Misery?¡¯ Fenirig Arte asked. ¡®Do you want to hear more?¡¯ ''Krissy! Talk to me!'' I pleaded with her. Krissy didn¡¯t talk to me. She looked Fenirig Arte in the eyes and said, ¡®What is it you want in return, sir?¡¯ ¡®Oh, I¡¯m glad you asked,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said with a wide grin on his scarred face. *** Tovaron Ento escorted us back to our lodging. It was a short walk, and I was amazed by how many muffled swearwords ¡ª both Treini and Elvish ¡ª could leave his mouth in half a minute. When we arrived at the door of our house, he stopped, shook his head and turned around to face Krissy. ¡®Do you even know who those people were?¡¯ he demanded. ¡®How would I know?¡¯ Krissy said, and judging by her almost vacant gaze, her attention wasn¡¯t really on the man, but with her own thoughts. ¡®One of them is Master Ketavel Ortig of the First Rangers. The other one is a liaison from the Defence Committee,¡¯ he explained. ¡®Alright, so?¡¯ ¡®So? What do you mean: ¡°so¡±?¡¯ Toven cried out in exasperation. ¡®So it means Master Fenar really went and got this scheme of his approved by everyone important in a single day.¡¯ ¡®So?¡¯ ¡®So you are not getting out of this now. And neither am I,¡¯ Toven wailed. He then looked up at the darkening sky, at the rising moon, as if seeking divine intervention to save him from what lay ahead. I felt tempted to ask Krissy to tell him that divine intervention was overrated, but on the other hand, I could picture a scene of Wensah ¡ª or one of her ilk ¡ª giving Toven a hard time. Krissy didn¡¯t respond. Toven looked at Kenta and Tommi. He took a deep breath, then turned back to Krissy. ¡®Alright. I ¡­ am calm,¡¯ he lied, obviously. ¡®We¡¯re leaving for Gal-Themar in the morning, so be ready by sunrise.¡¯ Toven then looked at Kenta and Tommi again and said to them, ¡®You two won¡¯t be allowed in the Ranger¡¯s compound, but we¡¯ll arrange a room for you in town. There¡¯s plenty to see and do there, I¡¯m ¡­ sure you can make yourselves useful.¡¯ The sailors nodded, looking unconvinced. Krissy didn¡¯t do or say anything ¡ª I wasn¡¯t even sure she heard or understood a single word the man had just said. Toven shook his head, opened the door to let us in, and he left. *** I didn¡¯t know how I felt about this. I was sure Krissy didn¡¯t know how she felt about this either. But I was a passenger ¡ª a useful one, but a passenger nonetheless, and this had always been Krissy¡¯s decision to make, not mine. She sat on her bed in our room, silently, deep in thought. Kenta and Tommy were standing, staring at her, and by the look of it they were just as confused by her decision as I was. And they were waiting for her to say something, just as I was. And we waited. And waited. Then waited some more. Kevin, are you alright with this? She suddenly asked me. ''You made your decision, and I¡¯m going where you¡¯re going anyway.'' I said to her. I know, but ¡­ don¡¯t you have ¡­ I don¡¯t know. Something? Something you want to do instead of ¡­ well ¡­ doing what I want? Don¡¯t you want another host? A better host? I thought about that for long moments. Of course there were things I wanted to do, but ¡­ they were things I could no longer do on account of not being human any more. And as far as hosts went, Krissy was mine, and I had no intention of replacing her. ''Listen, I¡¯m sticking with you because I consider us friends, alright? Haven¡¯t I said this before?'' I said to her. Yes, friends. Alright. She said. ''Besides, I am a stranger in a strange place, even more so than you. I don¡¯t know anyone, I have no stake in this world, and I ¡­ have nothing. Except you, Kenta, Tommy and Akela. For the time being, your lives are my life.'' And that was the truth. They were all I had in this world. Maybe things would change one day, but that day was off in a distant and so far murky-looking future. Finally Kenta lost his patience, unaware of the conversation Krissy and I were having. ¡®My Lady,¡¯ he said. ¡®We¡¯re stayin, aren¡¯t we?¡¯ Krissy looked up, finally, her eyes unfocused, looking like she had just been roused from sleep. ¡®I¡¯m staying,¡¯ she stated. ¡®As I said before, the two of you are free to leave. You¡¯ve earned that much.¡¯ ¡®Aren¡¯t you gonna go lookin¡¯ for your brother, My Lady?¡¯ Tommy asked. ¡®My brother ¡­¡¯ she said, lowering her head a little ¡®¡­ it¡¯s been almost half a year. If he has managed to stay alive until now, then he¡¯s probably safe enough. If not ¡­ then it¡¯s too late anyway. Either way, going back to Thyssa as I am now ¡­ is ¡­ not feasible.¡¯ ¡®Why not, my Lady? You got Kevin,¡¯ Kenta argued. ¡®He¡¯s powerful, ain¡¯t he?¡¯ ¡®Thyssa has many spiritualists,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Terack has ¡­ I don¡¯t know ¡­ two or three shrines there. We¡¯d stand out. Kevin is an evil spirit after all. And I¡¯d be considered a traitor anyway, so I ¡­ have to learn how to handle myself, even without Kevin, if necessary.¡¯ ¡®But this ¡­ ranger training, my Lady, isn¡¯t it a bit ¡­¡¯ Kenta tried to argue. ¡®I am ¡­ scared,¡¯ she said, then sighed. ¡®But I need to do it.¡¯ If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡®What about what the elves want? You¡¯ll have to do that, too, my Lady,¡¯ Kenta said. ¡®It¡¯s not unreasonable. A little worrying and ironic, if you ask me, but not unreasonable. It also means we¡¯re useful to them. And as long as we are useful, we¡¯re safe.¡¯ Krissy explained. ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ makin¡¯ some sense, yeah,¡¯ Kenta concluded. ¡®Alright, so we¡¯re stayin,¡¯ ¡®We?¡¯ Krissy asked, raising her eyebrows. ¡®Aren¡¯t you going? Don¡¯t you have family or friends waiting for you?¡¯ ¡®My Lady, if we¡¯d wanted to be stayin¡¯ with our folks, we wouldn¡¯t have gone sailorin¡¯,¡¯ Kenta said, grinning, and Tommy was nodding approvingly. Krissy finally managed to produce a small smile. I patted the two sailors on their shoulders with a Mana-gloved tentie each, expressing my own approval of their choice. ¡®Aaah, Kevin!¡¯ Tommy wailed. ¡®It¡¯s cold.¡¯ I liked the pair of them. Krissy was right: I wanted to do things, and as I looked at the two sailors, I suddenly knew how I could do those things: by proxy. Oh, Kenta and Tommi were in for a ride. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, we needed to rest ¡ª well, they needed to rest. ¡®Good thing I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on you since the kraken,¡¯ a brand new voice barged in on our conversation, and bloody hell, I recognised that voice instantly, even before the red dress and all the beautiful, blond nastiness it contained manifested in our midst. *** Krissy, Kenta and Tommy flinched as one, then they froze as Wensah popped into existence in the middle of our bedroom. Then we all stared at Kitala Iwani ¡ª or in my case at Tilry ¡ª both of whom also appeared out of nowhere for some reason, standing next to the blond wench, looking as shocked and confused as my humans looked. Akela was suddenly in the room with us, too. I should have been surprised, but I had seen too much of Wensah¡¯s deus ex machina bullshit already to be actually surprised ¡ª and this was only the third time I saw her. Despite all the complaints I had about cryptic, unavailable deities, I was beginning to see the allure. ''Are you okay, buddy? Did she hurt you?'' I asked Akela. There was no answer; Akela stood frozen for a few moments, just like the rest of us, then he trod over to Krissy, whimpering, and jumped on the bed next to her, pressing himself to her side. It wasn¡¯t just me: they could all see her. Then I felt a cloud of invisible Essence blanketing the room, and Wensah looked at me. ¡®Do you take me for the kind of person who¡¯d hurt someone¡¯s pets?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Yes, you¡¯re exactly ¡­¡¯ I said, wanting to unleash a tirade at her, but Kenta interrupted. ¡®Kevin?¡¯ the sailor asked, looking at Krissy. ¡®Is that you?¡¯ ¡®You can hear me?¡¯ I asked, staring at the sailor, absolutely gobsmacked. Tommi and Kitala Iwani tore their eyes away from Wensah, too, and gawked at Krissy. ¡®Can they hear me, too?¡¯ Tilry asked. ¡®Who was that?¡¯ Tommi wailed, looking around, confused. ¡®I ¡­ think they can,¡¯ the elf woman said. Krissy finally broke out of her momentary bafflement, stood up in front of Wensah and asked, ¡®Kevin, what¡¯s happening? Who¡¯s this?¡¯ Her voice wasn¡¯t as panicky as I thought it would be ¡ª perhaps she was getting used to all the weirdness as much as I was. ¡®This is Wensah,¡¯ I groaned. The room went quiet, everyone¡¯s attention snapping back to the woman in the red dress. Akela¡¯s whimpers were the only sound in the room, but I still wasn¡¯t getting any thoughts from him. I checked on the Essence wires, and ¡­ they weren¡¯t there. ¡®What have you done?¡¯ I demanded. ¡®And where is his girlfriend?¡¯ ¡®Oh, you really are stupid, aren¡¯t you?¡¯ Wensah said, laughing. ¡®Did you think your threads are that durable? I¡¯m surprised you even figured out how to make them.¡¯ ¡®Alright, listen here you ¡­¡¯ I began to say, but Wensah just waved her hand and spoke over me. ¡®Now that you all know who I am, let¡¯s get to the point,¡¯ she said, then gestured to Kitala Iwani an Tilry. ¡®Firstly, why did you let them go? Did you think they wouldn¡¯t go crying to Sivera about a strange, tentacled spirit showing up?¡¯ ¡®Is that why you brought them here?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Yes. I could have done it myself, but I thought you¡¯d like a snack,¡¯ she said. ¡®I take care of my pets.¡¯ Kitala Iwani paled instantly, and Tilry seemed to shrink in size. ¡®I¡¯m not going to just murder people, not like this,¡¯ I said, deciding to ignore her comment about pets. ¡®Why not? You¡¯re a Tentacle Horror,¡¯ Wensah said, looking at me with eyebrows raised. ¡®You¡¯ve done it before, haven¡¯t you?¡¯ ¡®Self-defence, Wensah, self-defence,¡¯ I groaned in exasperation. ¡®Just what do you take me for?¡¯ Wensah snapped her fingers, and I felt a fresh wave of ¡­ something flowing into room, filling the place in a single second. It was Essence, I thought, but yet another kind I had not felt before. In another second, this new cloud moved to surround me, it condensed, and it stuck to every inch of my spiritual body. Then everyone else yelled and jumped away from Krissy as much as the small bedroom allowed them to. They all stared in horror, and even Krissy¡¯s eyes widened as she led her gaze along ¡­ one of my tentacles, hanging in the air in front of her. Then she turned her head and looked straight at my spherical body, hovering about half a meter next to her head. She gasped. Then I gasped. She could see me. They could all see me. Somehow Wensah made it so they could all see me. ¡®That. Tentacle Horror. The worst of the worst,¡¯ Wensah said with a satisfied smile on her face. ¡®I hope you¡¯ll work on your disguise.¡¯ I wished I could somehow wipe that smile off her face, but she was ¡­ a goddess ¡ª all-powerful, at least compared to me. Because of ¡­ Essence. She possessed a divine mastery of Essence, that much was clear, and an obviously enormous supply of it, too. Familiars. Of course. Who knew how many familiars she was collecting it from. Essence and the skill to manipulate it, to change it and to shape it ¡ª it was the basis on which godhood was build, wasn¡¯t it? It was the power, the currency, the very foundation. No wonder grand spirits wanted these shrine-things, renting out spirits to people. But ¡­ could I do it? Could I grow enough to have an Essence pool or pools comparable to Wensah¡¯s? Could I learn to manipulate it and use it as she did? Hm. For how long would I have to experiment with Essence? How much would I have to eat to grow enough? And would I be able to appear as a human then? I glanced at the elf woman and her familiar ¡ª bronze soul and blue spirit-stuff. Food. Growth. Levels. My Tentacle Horror instinct¡¯s intoxication with the sight was almost infectious. Oh, damn it, Kevin, baby steps, baby steps, baby steps! Godhood wasn¡¯t going anywhere, so I gently told my Tentacle Horror instinct to shove it for the moment, and I refocused my mind on the horrified people who had been staring at me for a number of seconds now. ¡®Well,¡¯ I said, waving all seven of my free tenties around. ¡®That¡¯s me, Kevin, and I want you all to know that there was a time in my life when I was average looking bordering on handsome. Now I have tentacles.'' Krissy was the first to snap out of it. She shook her head, let a shiver run through her, then straightened her posture. ¡®Alright. So ... spirit-kraken. I ¡­ can see the resemblance,¡¯ she said, then she looked straight into Wensah¡¯s cold, blue eyes, and bowed as she addressed her, ¡®Lady Wensah, I am Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡¯ I was once again impressed by Krissy ¡ª she just knew how to talk to people in any given situation, even if it was a goddess. I suppose there were a few things I could learn from her. Wensah leaned closer to Krissy, as if studying her. Then she smiled. ¡®It seems we¡¯ll be able to have a somewhat intelligent discussion after all,¡¯ she said, giving me a glance of unmistakable scorn. Krissy must have sensed the retort I was going to unleash. ¡®Kevin, not now!¡¯ she shushed me before I could say anything. ¡®Good. I see you got a handle on him,¡¯ Wensah said with an uncharacteristically sweet voice, then pointed a finger at Kitala Iwani. ¡®Now, if you¡¯d be kind enough to get him to consume the woman and her familiar, that would be grand.¡¯ The elf woman and the spirit seemed unable to move, their squirming and the desperate look on Kitala Iwani¡¯s face telling me it wasn¡¯t for the lack of trying ¡ª it must have been Wensah¡¯s doing. ¡®Before we do that, Lady Wensah,¡¯ Krissy said with a measured, neutral tone. ¡®Perhaps we should discuss more important things. I don¡¯t imagine someone such as yourself would come all the way here just to feed some people to my familiar, am I wrong?¡¯ She then looked at Kitala Iwani and said, ¡®We can decide their fates after. Perhaps we could even find a use for them, other than ¡­ food.¡¯ Wensah stared at Krissy, just for a moment, then she began to laugh in a very lady-like manner. ¡®I like you, Krissintha,¡¯ she said. ¡®Fine. Let¡¯s talk first.¡¯ Krissy pulled the only chair in the room and offered it to Wensah. The blond wench took it, and Krissy sat down on the bed. Everyone else remained standing: Kenta and Tommi frozen with fear, Kitala Iwani frozen with something else, courtesy of Wensah. ¡®I have been watching you lot since the kraken incident. I¡¯m not unhappy with how things went, but there is one particular thing that piqued my interest. I hate to admit it, but even Stupid can come up with some good ideas.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m not stupid,¡¯ I protested. ¡®Good ideas?¡¯ Krissy asked, ¡®May I ask what it is?¡¯ ¡®That bureau-thing of course,¡¯ she said, clapping her hands together, smiling at Krissy. ¡®The name is too long and it sounds stupid ¡ª which isn¡¯t a surprise considering where it came from ¡ª but the idea itself ¡­ well, I thought of a way to use it.¡¯ ¡®What?¡¯ I blurted out my thoughts. ¡®The ¡­ Bureau?¡¯ Krissy asked, looking as confused as I felt. ¡®Yes, the Bureau. Please don¡¯t stoop to his level and try to keep up, Krissintha,¡¯ Wensah said. ¡®Setting up a shrine is an old practice. Tradition. That¡¯s how it has been for thousands of years, and that¡¯s how it will be for a long time. It¡¯s a difficult thing to do: the others are very protective of their territories. In fact, they even go as far as to encourage war among the material races, just to gain territory where they can set up more shrines. Like in Thyssa. Hah! I imagine the old fool, Terack, isn¡¯t happy that Ohsot is replacing his shrines there.¡¯ ¡®Thyssa?¡¯ Krissy asked, her eyes narrowing. ¡®You mean the civil war?¡¯ ¡®Yes, but that¡¯s not important,¡¯ she said, shrugging. ¡®If the place and the circumstances are right, I might not need shrines. I think something like this Bureau of yours ¡­ it could work if set up properly. It could fulfil the role of a shrine without being a shrine. It¡¯s worth a try.¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ see,¡¯ Krissy said, slowly and carefully. ¡®So ¡­ you want us to ¡­¡¯ ¡®Yes,¡¯ Wensah said. ¡®And we don¡¯t have a choice in this, do we?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®No,¡¯ Wensah said, smiling at her. ¡®Hold on, we have some training to do here,¡¯ I interjected. I never would have thought Fenirig Arte¡¯s plans for Krissy would become a desirable alternative, but I reached the point where I considered just about anything better than to quietly go along with the whims of the bitch-god. ¡®Do your training. I have time.¡¯ Wensah said, shrugging. ¡®I¡¯ll keep an eye on you, and I¡¯ll tell you where to go when the time comes.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ Krissy said, nodding with a contemplative expression on her face. I wasn¡¯t sure why, but it seemed Krissy had accepted this rather quickly and easily ¡ª maybe hearing about her homeland was to blame. I hoped she wasn¡¯t getting some dangerous ideas. I¡¯d have to talk to her later. ¡®So we settled the important things, and I am now the patron god of your Bureau,¡¯ Wensah announced, standing up from the chair. She looked at Kitala Iwani, then at me. ¡®Time for a meal, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ ¡®Wait,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Why not recruit them into the Bureau instead?¡¯ ¡®Are you ¡­ squeamish?¡¯ Wensah asked. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I ¡­ don¡¯t follow. Squeamish?¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®If you don¡¯t want to see a Tentacle Horror eat, you can just go to another room. His tentacles are long enough,¡¯ Wensah said. ¡®I don¡¯t want to eat them,¡¯ I interjected again. ¡®And Krissy isn¡¯t squeamish. She just doesn¡¯t like to waste resources. I recall you dislike waste yourself, don¡¯t you?¡¯ ¡®Oh, you really aren¡¯t as stupid as you look, are you?¡¯ Wensah said, then turned to Kitala Iwani and Tilry. A small, black Essence cube appeared in Wensah¡¯s hand, and she held it up for the two of them to see. ¡®So, what will it be? Will you serve, or will you die?¡¯ A sudden sense of deja-vu came over me. ¡®We¡¯ll join,¡¯ the elf and the spirit said at the same time and without hesitation, almost crying. Wensah tossed the black cube to Tilry. I wasn¡¯t sure if anyone other than spirits could see it, but Tilry caught it. I sensed all sorts of Essence moving around her ¡ª I guessed Wensah was somehow hijacking Tilry¡¯s connection to Sivera. And with that, Kitala Iwani and her familar had become members of a Bureau that was no longer just a convenient lie. I hoped the two of them weren¡¯t expecting a welcome party. ¡®Well, that¡¯s done, so be good and don¡¯t do anything stupid,¡¯ Wensah said to us. ¡®See you soon.¡¯ She snapped her fingers and she vanished as abruptly as she had arrived, taking with her all the strange, refined Essence that had made me visible and audible. No-one said a word. Krissy, Kenta, Tommi, Kitala Iwani, Tilry and even Akela ¡­ they were just gawking at the spot where Wensah had been standing moments ago. A minute passed like this. I knew no-one but Krissy could hear me now, but I took a deep mental breath and I grumbled, ¡®We really are being bossed around, aren¡¯t we?¡¯ END OF PART ONE MAP So this is the map. It''s a simple one I admit, and it doesn''t have any towns or cities marked yet. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Chapter Forty Chapter Forty I flung one of my tentacles forward. The weird, horned bird that looked almost like a woodpecker froze up as I pierced its little, pink soul. I liked that pinkish colour ¡ª only a few of the forest birds had souls like that. The taste, on the other hand, was underwhelming. So was the quantity. It wasn¡¯t that I ever felt hungry, but eating souls at five, ten or twenty EXP at a time wasn¡¯t going to get me to Level 32 any time soon, not with the requirement being around 2000 EXP. The bird fell from the tree branch as I slurped up its soul. I pulled the little, dead thing into Jack¡¯s Room before it could land and Krissy would trip over it. Krissy didn¡¯t notice it. She shambled through the day old snow, trudging through the training ground like a zombie, her breath a white mist in the air. She was spent, as she usually was at the end of the day, and I doubted she even saw where she was going. I was worried she¡¯d just walk into one of trees. I didn¡¯t understand why a training ground paved with stone tiles needed trees. Even the nearby town, Gal-Themar, was a city sized village that looked like a forest-y park ¡ª no two houses were closer to each other than twenty meters, every wall, every door, every roof had carvings of trees and other plant motifs, and the tree-to-house ratio was around 30-to-1 across town. Bloody tree-hugging new-age hippies, the elves. I liked them. Krissy arrived at the empty barrack without any tree-related incidents, trod through the corridor to her room, and when she finally reached her bed, she collapsed onto it with a groan, burying her face into the pillow. She didn¡¯t even bother to change her clothes. She could have at least taken her practice sword off her belt, but no, it looked like she was going to sleep with it. Again. ¡®Are you going to go another day without bathing?¡¯ I asked. I knew she was knackered ¡ª Tovaron Ento¡¯s endurance training combined with Fenirig Arte¡¯s ¡°swordsmanship for dummies¡± lessons managed to do that to her every day. But three days in a row with only a few, quick splashes of cold water to her face in the mornings ¡­ well, I couldn¡¯t say I approved. ¡®Leave me alone,¡¯ she squeaked, her voice muffled by the pillow. ¡®Oi, get up, Krissy! Hygiene! We¡¯ve talked about this,¡¯ I yelled at her. She didn¡¯t say anything, didn¡¯t move an inch. I was beginning to think she had fallen asleep already, but then she moved one of her arms. ¡®I¡¯m sore everywhere,¡¯ she whimpered, trying to detach the scabbard from her belt, still lying on her belly. I wanted to help her, I really did. I could have easily removed the sword, her dark green cloak and all her clothes. Hell, I felt tempted to try to drag her to the bath myself, but that was beyond my capabilities. Not to mention, both Toven and Fenirig Arte had made it clear that I was not to help Krissy with anything during her training. As much as I hated seeing her worn and torn like this, I had begrudgingly agreed and accepted that she needed to do this on her own, otherwise it would be pointless. Pups! Pups coming! Akela¡¯s growly thoughts came to me and to Krissy. Krissy lifted her head, her eyes wide open, suddenly awake as if I had poured a bucket of ice cold water on her. ¡®You hear that? Akela¡¯s gonna be a dad,¡¯ I screamed with excitement. *** My Mana pool had a maximum capacity of 40. Krissy drew on it, and Mana rushed to aid her aching muscles as she ran out of the barrack ¡ª at a cost of 2 MP per minute, she could sprint almost as fast as an elf for at least twenty minutes without getting too tired. If I used all my stored Essence to replenish my Mana pool ¡ª and I had plenty of Essence ¡ª maybe even longer. My primary Essence pool had a max capacity of 68, my secondary was at 35. Wensah had only been taking five or six EP at time, so Krissy had nothing to worry about: I got it covered. On one hand, I was a little annoyed: neither my nagging nor the general appeal of a bath had been enough to get her to move. On the other hand, I completely understood: Akela and Misty were finally having their pups, and I was as excited about it as she was, if not more. Krissy rushed past another barrack, much to the surprise and amusement of the ranger trainees loitering in front of the building, discussing the day¡¯s training. Some of them yelled after us, in Elvish of course, something like ¡°What¡¯s the rush, Misery¡± and ¡°Would Misery like company?¡± Krissy paid them no mind and focused on the paved road ahead of us, and we left the compound behind, heading to town. I focused my thoughts on my brand new secondary communication node, and called out to Kenta and Tommi. ¡®Hey, guys, Misty¡¯s giving birth. Get to Toven¡¯s house!¡¯ I told them. Uh ¡­ Kevin, so ¡­ the pups are finally comin¡¯, eh? Kenta¡¯s distinctly hoarse thoughts came to me. ¡®Yes, hurry up!¡¯ I said to him. Oh, let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go! Tommi¡¯s clear and excited thoughts came, too. ¡®We¡¯re heading there now, so see you in a bit,¡¯ I said to the both of them. *** Gal-Themar was less then a kilometer from the rangers¡¯ training compound. Krissy ran like the wind, panting and wheezing, and it didn¡¯t take long to reach the edge of town. Tommi and Kenta had already arrived ¡ª they had been staying in a house close to Toven¡¯s. Krissy couldn¡¯t hear my conversation with the ex-sailors, in fact she wasn¡¯t even aware that I could talk to them. It wasn¡¯t that I wanted to keep secrets from her, I just wanted to be able to achieve some of my own goals without distracting her from her training. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Over the past three months I¡¯d come to understand how my spiritual body worked ¡ª well, mostly. To nobody¡¯s surprise, the key was Essence. Wensah annoyed the hell out of me whenever she appeared, but the undeniable fact was that every time she did, I learned something new simply by paying attention to the things she said and did. During her last visit, back in that farmstead, I¡¯d had had a major epiphany. No, not that she was a bossy bitch, that had been clear from the start. It was about Essence. Everything was Essence. The other two members of the Holy Trinity of spiritual existence ¡ª Mana and Spirit Stuff ¡ª weren¡¯t their own, unique things after all. They were Essence, too, altered and refined in different ways, but Essence nonetheless. My new perspective on it was this: Essence was something like stem-cells. Not that I knew much about stem-cells, but it was the best analogy I could think of. Just as stem-cells could turn into a number of different things depending on the needs of the body, so could Essence. I had spent two months figuring out how to make that damn second comm-node. First I had to take a closer look at my existing, natural comm-node. I was a Tentacle Horror not a microscope, but weeks of gazing at the thing had given me a good idea of how I needed to refine Essence into the kind of Spirit Stuff I needed to make a replica of it. Base Essence wasn¡¯t a responsive substance, so I used the same trick I had used when making the thread to connect to Akela. I overlaid a lot of Mana over a lot of Essence, and Mana did its job altering Essence according to my wishes. It wasn¡¯t an economical process ¡ª I had used over 1000 EP and even more MP throughout the trials and errors. But after two months, I had a working prototype, and a little bit of fine tuning and fiddling later my body had accepted the new node. And with the new node I could finally talk to Kenta and Tommi without Krissy overhearing us. My success in the field of manufacturing spiritual materials, a few and short conversations with Tilry, and what I could glean from Wensah¡¯s words and actions, had led me to a conclusion: spirits existed in both the Spirit World and in the material plane simultaneously. In other words: I existed in two places at once. My human soul and the bulk of the Tentacle Horror¡¯s body ¡ª including my pools and Jack¡¯s Room ¡ª were in the Spirit World. I had thought that my cute little tentacled body was an avatar perhaps, like a puppet or something. But that wasn¡¯t exactly right. It was an intrinsic part of the entity I was, located in the material world. When a spirit¡¯s ¡°avatar¡± was hurt, the entire entity was hurt, both here and in the Spirit World. When I¡¯d eaten Jevan¡¯s familiar, I hadn¡¯t just eaten the ¡°avatar¡±. I had eaten the entire entity. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could ever understand the mechanics of it ¡ª the kind of spiritual-dimensional shenanigans involved must have been stupidly complex and mind-bending ¡ª but my Tentacle Horror instinct was on board with the theory. I had to get my tentacles on some Black Essence, or figure out how to make it. I was curious about the Spirit World, there was that too, but what I really wanted to do was to take a good look at my full self. Unlike normal spirits and familiars, I had only ever seen the part of me that existed here in the material world. If I could go to the Spirit World, or at least somehow send my consciousness over to have a quick look-see, I was sure I¡¯d get a few ideas how to grow into a grand spirit. But that had to wait. Right now, my best buddy, ladies¡¯ wolf and hell-hound extraordinaire, Akela, was becoming a father. Krissy whooshed past the first house at the edge of town. Toven¡¯s residence wasn¡¯t difficult to find. The ranger lived in the outskirts ¡ª although one could argue that the whole town was a giant, tree-riddled outskirts ¡ª and Krissy knew the way. She stopped drawing on my Mana as we arrived at Toven¡¯s house. She wobbled the moment Mana left her legs, slipped on the frost that covered the paved walkway leading to the door, but regained her balance quickly. She exhaled a stream of white mist and some elven curses into the cold, evening air, then she calmed herself and rapped her fist against the door. Devalet Niraki opened the door for us. She blinked once, then stood aside, inviting Krissy in with a gesture. ¡®Good evening. So ¡­ you¡¯ve heard the news already?¡¯ Toven¡¯s wife asked in Treini. ¡®Yeah. Are they all at the back?¡¯ Krissy asked in her heavily accented Elvish. ¡®They are. Come in, Misery,¡¯ the woman said ¡ª in Treini once again. Krissy followed Deni inside, through the living room and to the back door in the kitchen, then out into the garden. I was sure there was a permanent, town-wide competition to see who could grow the most magnificent trees in their gardens. Toven and Deni certainly weren¡¯t going to be outdone: they had something that looked like a giant bonsai tree, right in the middle, and a few meters behind it lay Toven¡¯s prized rock garden. Akela and Misty had set up their den in a small alcove-like structure. Toven, Kenta and Tommy were standing a few steps away from the mouth of the artificial cave, trying to peek inside. Akela sat there like a guard dog, alert and proud. Toven glanced at Krissy as we came out into the garden ¡®Shouldn¡¯t you be sleeping? It¡¯s endurance training tomorrow,¡¯ he said to Krissy as we approached. ¡®U-huh,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Oh, Lady Krissintha, you came,¡¯ Tommy greeted her. Kenta turned and nodded his head in greeting, then turned back to the small garden-cave, from which a constant, low growl emanated. It wasn¡¯t a deep cave or anything of the like, but it was too dark to properly see the occupants. Too close. Too many not-prey. Mate worried. Akela said as Krissy stepped closer. Pups? Are they alright? Krissy asked him. Pups good. Mate good. Akela replied. ¡®Three pups,¡¯ Tommy said, grinning. ¡®They are adorable.¡¯ ¡®You saw them?¡¯ Krissy asked, looking at the sailor, struggling to keep her eyes open. ¡®Just for a moment. Misty almost went bitin¡¯ me,¡¯ Tommy said. ¡®I told you goin¡¯ closer ain¡¯t a good idea,¡¯ Kenta grumbled. ¡®Misty¡¯s a wild animal. I¡¯m surprised she¡¯s puttin¡¯ up with stayin¡¯ ¡®ere instead of the forest. And with us.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s because of Akela, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Deni said, bending down to pat my buddy on the head. Akela of course graciously accepted it and growled with delight. I was convinced that my connection to him had played a big part in him accepting the company of humans and elves. Misty, on the other hand, seemed to be almost constantly on edge. Well, she was a wild wolf. ¡®So ¡­ how long are they staying here for?¡¯ Toven asked, looking at Krissy, ''Not that I mind, but ... you know.'' ¡®Spring, probably. I think when the pups can travel they¡¯ll go settle in a forest somewhere,¡¯ Krissy relayed my thoughts to Toven. The elf just nodded. He had begrudgingly agreed to host them in his garden, but he wasn¡¯t overly happy about it. ¡°The neighbors will not like it¡± had been his main concern. My main concern was that my journey with Akela was slowly but inexorably coming to an end ¡ª it was clear to me he¡¯d choose his new, self-made pack over me. It made me a little sad, but what else could I do except let him go? He had a family now, and I would not stand in his way. Deni went back to the house and returned with an oil lantern in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She handed the tea to Krissy, who took it, mumbled thanks, then started sipping the hot drink. Deni then took the lamp as close to the alcove as Akela let her. She put it down on the ground. It shone brightly, and finally we could see the occupants of the mini-cave properly. I stretched one of my tenties, poking into the small cave, focusing my vision through it, on the three, tiny pups squirming and snuggling up to their tired looking mother. They were adorable. Chapter Forty-one Chapter Forty-one I would have wanted to stay a bit longer. The pups were the cutest things I¡¯d seen in a long time, and of course a debate had started about what to name them. The three active participants of the debate ¡ª Kenta, Tommy and Deni ¡ª had some good ideas. Toven stayed out of it, muttering something about wolves¡¯ natural habitat being a forest, not his garden. Krissy was too tired to even speak, and I wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d make it back to the barrack without falling asleep on the roadside. The proud father of the litter, Akela, didn¡¯t care for names: he just went with ¡°pup one, two and three¡±. Krissy used another 20 MP to give her muscles the extra umph they needed to get her back to the barrack. When she finally fell into her bed again, she fell asleep immediately without changing out of her training clothes or taking a bath. Sunrise was at least eight hours away, and I made up my mind to wake her and force her to take a bath before Toven¡¯s endurance training in the morning. But for now, my nightly Essence-experiments could begin. *** My Essence gathering was rather fast now ¡ª not counting the one I was using to cling onto Krissy I had seven tentacles, each of them five and a half meters long. They weren¡¯t terribly thick, but they were more than adequate for most tasks. They collected Essence at a rate of 10 EP per minute each. That was 70 EP per minute total. Considering that the combined capacity of my two Essence pools was 103 EP, I could replenish my entire stock in under two minutes. I hadn¡¯t asked Tilry outright if this was good, average or bad, but after observing her and her host a little, I had concluded that the speed of my Essence collection was nothing short of prodigious. My best estimate was that the size of Tilry¡¯s Essence pool was somewhere between 20 and 30 EP, and she could manage to collect 1 or 2 EP per minute per arm. She wasn¡¯t made for this. I was. I had known familiars were at a disadvantage against evil spirits, but this had really driven it home ¡ª no wonder four spiritualists hadn¡¯t been enough to deal with the evil spirit. Small pools and a slow rate of collection meant limited Essence and Mana. I definitely had an advantage over familiars. But that evil spirit? The only advantages I¡¯d had were my much longer reach and not being a mindless animal. In retrospect, I had been reckless. But for now, I wanted to figure out what else I could turn Essence into. My ultimate goal of course was to make some Black Essence. I didn¡¯t have much to go on though: Tilry wasn¡¯t willing to show me the little black cube she had got from Wensah, and I doubted Wensah herself would just give some to me if I asked. So, experiments. I went through the steps to make some of the same Spirit Stuff I had used for my new comm-node. I emptied my secondary Essence pool, gathering 35 EP at the tip of one of my tenties. Then I poured 35 MP over it. Mana transferred its own responsiveness to the Essence, becoming inert in the process. Then Essence began to do what I wanted it to do: it shrunk, condensing into a ball ¡ª some of it lost in the process ¡ª then I instructed it to change its spiritual structure, slowly becoming Spirit Stuff. I was doing this by feel rather than knowledge ¡ª it was like a blind man doing alchemy, not seeing the lead turning into gold, but feeling the change by touch. Nonetheless, by the end of the process, I had a small, dense and very expensive ball made of Spirit Stuff. Unfortunately, it was as low in nutrition as it was expensive to make, so it wasn¡¯t a viable alternative to eating souls. I wanted to see what else I could turn this little ball of spirit-flesh into, other than a new comm-node. The problem was that I didn¡¯t have any specific ideas, so I just played around with it. I flattened the little ball into a pancake, using two Mana-gloved tenties as makeshift rolling pins. Then I willed it to become less dense, then more dense, to stretch, to contract. Then I mixed it with a little bit of unrefined Essence, making it heavier ¡ª spiritually speaking ¡ª and more visible, until I had a fairly flexible, blueish disk in my tenties. It looked similar to the Spirit-Stuff I was made of ¡ª translucent, but a little more opaque than my body. I spent a few more hours looking at it, studying it, but I had no more ideas for tonight, so in the end I did what I usually did with the results of dead-end experiments: I consumed it. Or ¡­ I tried. I poked at the pancake shaped piece of Spirit-Stuff, and ¡­ it resisted. It felt like I was trying to stick a finger into a PET bottle: it wobbled, it dented, but it didn¡¯t allow my tentacle to go through it. Now this was interesting. My tentacles could go through anything: walls, trees, a door, souls, the body of another spirit ¡ª it didn¡¯t matter because I wasn¡¯t made of ¡­ matter. I could usually feel some resistance from Spirit-Stuff, but never to this extent. I pressed harder and harder, until finally my tentacle went through the thin disk. Then I willed my tentie to start consuming it. It resisted even that. This was new. In the end, I managed to eat it ¡ª my tentacle liquified it and slurped it up, but it took time, twenty seconds at least. It was as if a floodgate had been opened, and ideas poured into my mind one after another. I could make my familiar-costume from this stuff ¡ª it was more opaque than a spirit¡¯s body, so it could hide me. It could also serve as armour, protecting me against other evil spirits ¡ª if I had trouble penetrating and eating it, so would others. Hell, I could make a soul-shield out of this stuff and protect Krissy¡¯s soul, at least for a while ¡ª twenty seconds was a long time in a fight, enough to retreat and get away. The material was expensive to make. I wasn¡¯t sure how many thousands of EP and MP I¡¯d need to use to make a full suit for myself, so I would have to do it piece by piece. Which meant I had to be able to store completed parts somehow. Which meant I had to experiment and figure out how to build a version of Jack¡¯s Room that could store spiritual materials as opposed to physical ones. Which meant ¡­ Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! The door of the room flung open. *** Fenirig Arte stood in the doorway, peering into the darkness of the room, his eyes on Krissy. What the hell was he doing here? There was no sword practice scheduled for today, was there? And what time was it anyway? I was sure Krissy had at least another two hours until she had to get out of bed and start getting ready for the day. Master of Rangers or not, the man wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. Fenirig Arte took the first step into the room. Even in the darkness, I could see the sinister smile on his scarred face as clearly as I could see his bronze coloured soul. He took another step, then another, walking towards the bed as silently as a cat stalking its prey, not even the sword at his hip making a sound. Did the elf finally snap and decide to get rid of the nuisance he considered spiritualists to be? No, it couldn¡¯t be that. But as he approached, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He stopped at the bed, glaring at Krissy who was sleeping like a log, and it looked he was about to draw his weapon. No. Whatever he was trying to pull here, I wasn¡¯t going to let him. I flung two of my tentacles forward, one for each of his arms, Mana shimmering in the darkness for a second. Fenirig Arte stopped moving. He didn¡¯t resist or struggle, he just stopped the moving his arms the moment my tentacles coiled around them. He looked at me. I was sure he couldn¡¯t see me, but his gaze was right on my spherical body, hovering above Krissy¡¯s back. The elf grinned. ¡®Isn¡¯t that something?¡¯ he whispered. ¡®A spirit that wants to protect its host. And here I thought I¡¯ve seen it all.¡¯ I had no idea what he was on about, but this was the last straw. He¡¯d been pushing and bullying Krissy for three months now under the guise of training. He¡¯d given her more bruises than I could count, worked her to exhaustion all the time, and only hell knew what he was about to do to her now. I pulled some EP and MP and I made a thread and attached one end of it to my secondary communication node. ¡®Listen you invisible piece of shit ¡­¡¯ Fenirig Arte whispered. I plunged a tentacle into his soul and I attached the thread to one of the nodes in it. The man gritted his teeth, snarling quietly, but he didn¡¯t move. ¡®No. You listen to me!¡¯ I said to him, certain that he could hear me now. Huh! Not very familiar-like, are we? His thoughts came to me. I was taken aback, because ¡­ Fenirig Arte didn¡¯t look surprised in the slightest. His smile returned, and he was as unfazed as if he was talking to one of his underlings, which was pretty much everyone around here. And the ease with which he sent his thoughts to me was disturbing ¡ª it had taken Krissy and the sailors days of practice before they could do it properly. I had almost forgotten that the man used to be a spiritualist. ¡®What are you trying to pull here?¡¯ I demanded. ¡®Don¡¯t think for a second I couldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t kill you! You know I could.¡¯ Fenirig Arte¡¯s grin widened, still looking at exactly where I was. It was unnerving. Tell me, you bitchy little shit, what do you think I¡¯m trying to pull here? He demanded instead of answering. And suddenly I didn¡¯t know what to say to him. What was it exactly I thought he was doing here? ¡®Well, I ¡­¡¯ I began to say, but he cut me short. Did you think I came here to kill her? After three months of training her, and so early in the fucking morning? Or did you think I suddenly fancied a human girl? Well, what is it? Or could it be you¡¯re too stupid to use your invisible head, if you even have one? I didn¡¯t know what to say. All I knew was that I had just embarrassed myself as thoroughly as possible. Of course he wasn¡¯t here to harm Krissy. We had a deal. He was here to train her. But ¡­ ¡®She¡¯s exhausted. Let her rest!¡¯ I said to him. No. ¡®Why? Do you want her to die on her own? Is that what you¡¯re aiming for?¡¯ Fucking spirits! You really have a pile of shit-munching maggots for a brain. ¡®Listen, Master Fenar, you will ¡­¡¯ I said, but I couldn¡¯t finish. The man yanked his arms away, and to my utter shock he tore free of my Mana-gloved tentacles. Under normal circumstances I would have wondered how the transfer of energy and movement between the physical and the spiritual worked, but the man narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to me without actually seeing me, and he said, Call me Fenar one more time and you will learn that even your kind can swim in horse-shit. I just kept quiet, utterly confused and a little scared of the man. Good. Now listen here, brainless! We have a deal, and believe it or not, I like the kid, so I¡¯m doing her a favour. ¡®A favour?¡¯ I scoffed, anger boiling in me again. Life¡¯s tough for spoiled brats like her. She¡¯s human, so she¡¯ll always be a brat, but I can at least take away the ¡°spoiled¡±. And you, you shitheap, are more likely to get her killed than anything else. If you want her to live out the meager hundred or so years a human has, then don¡¯t stand in my way of teaching her how. ¡®But you¡¯re just beating her up with a wooden sword!¡¯ I argued, because that¡¯s what he¡¯d been doing. Oh, don¡¯t you worry, we¡¯re just getting started. He sent his thoughts, laughing. ¡®But ¡­¡¯ No buts! I will reiterate this for you, in case you haven¡¯t been listening: for the duration of her training you will keep quiet, and you will do nothing to help her. Are we clear? ¡®Y ¡­ yes, sir,¡¯ I said. A few thoughts went through my mind, but saying anything more would have been just a show of stubbornness, nothing else. I really had embarrassed myself here, hadn¡¯t I? Was I acting overprotective? I needed to be less impulsive and a lot more pragmatic. And now that we¡¯re talking, we have only a few months before the first Joint Counter-Evil-Spirit Exercise. You¡¯d better be ready to do your part. I sighed inwardly, but he was right: a deal was a deal. ¡®We¡¯ll be ready,¡¯ I said. Good. Now get out of my head! I don¡¯t want to hear your stupid fucking voice ever again! I wanted to say ¡°with pleasure¡±, but unfortunately the process of ¡°getting out of his head¡± was going to be anything but pleasurable, and I was regretting my hasty reaction. At least I didn¡¯t need to rip the entire node out of my body to sever the connection, only a chunk of it where the thread was attached. It was still akin to self-mutilation, but I did it quickly. I wished I could just cut the thread itself, but it never worked, no matter how much I tried. I let Fenirig Arte¡¯s arms go, retracting my tentacles. The man shook both his arms, as if trying shake some dirt off. Then he drew his wooden, training sword from the sheath, and started banging it against the headboard, right above Krissy¡¯s head. Krissy jerked awake in an instant, almost falling out of the bed, screaming, trying to scramble to her feet, her messy hair all in her face. ¡®Wakey, wakey, you poorest excuse for a human!¡¯ Fenirig Arte yelled into her ears with glee. ¡®Get your misery-ass out of bed, for it is the most perfect morning for the honing of your defensive stances!¡¯ ¡®Yes ¡­ sir!¡¯ Krissy half screamed half cried, and she finally managed to stand up, groggy and not fully awake. This was going to be a long day for her. Chapter Forty-two Chapter Forty-two Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain had long accepted that Misery was going to be her name for the foreseeable future. Most of the elves weren¡¯t even aware that she had a proper name, and those who knew seemed content to pretend it didn¡¯t exist. She almost smiled as she thought about how accurate a match the name was to how she felt most of the time. Kevin hadn¡¯t been speaking to her much. Akela¡¯s pups had been born a month ago, and that was the last time she¡¯d heard the spirit speak a full sentence. At that time the spirit had got tired of the debate between Deni, Quenta and Tommi about what to name the pups, arbitrarily deciding that the two boys would be called Thor and Loki, and the girl would be Freya. Everyone had accepted the names ¡ª they sounded surprisingly good and only a little alien ¡ª but when Kevin suggested that Akela¡¯s whole pack, or family, be given the surname ¡°Ragnarok¡± ¡ª whatever that meant ¡ª they voted him down. Krissintha didn¡¯t like that Kevin wasn¡¯t speaking to her much ¡ª she had got used to hearing his thoughts in her head, and not hearing him all the time felt¡­ strange. Lonely. Even Quenta and Tommi weren¡¯t available most of the time. The sailors had settled in quickly, living comfortably in the small house provided to them by Third Rangers, and they had been busy. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure how it had come about, but the two of them had somehow ended up running errands for Gal-Themar¡¯s Town Maintentence Committee, earning a small stipend. On top of that, Krissintha was almost sure that Kevin had devised a way to talk to the pair of them without her. She saw the signs here and there: conspiratorial silence when she¡¯d pop in to check on them on a day off, or suspicious boxes smelling of spices or fruits appearing and disappearing semi-regularly. Kevin and the sailors were up to something, Krissintha was sure of it. She felt left out, but she didn¡¯t have the time or the energy to worry about it, much less to do anything about it. ¡®Break¡¯s over, trainee, on your feet! Up, up, up!¡¯ Fenirig Arte bellowed at her all of a sudden, appearing from behind a tree at the edge of training ground. ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ Krissintha yelled, jumping to her feet and grabbing her practice sword. She jogged over to the paved clearing, murky snow and water splashing up, soaking her trousers. Every muscle in her body was aching after morning endurance training ¡ª Tovaron Ento¡¯s training regimen wasn¡¯t fast or intense, it was ¡­ a different kind of unforgiving. She came to halt in front of Fenirig Arte ¡ª or ¡°Hellspawn Fenar¡± as some of the braver trainees called him ¡ª and snapped to attention. Fenirig Arte got down to business without further ado. ¡®Sword out, defensive stance!¡¯ he yelled. Krissy drew the wooden sword and fell into a low-guard stance without thinking, ignoring the pain in her legs and arms. ¡®By all the fucking gods, why am I being punished by having to train you?¡¯ the man lamented loudly. Krissintha almost gave in to the urge to scream at him that this had been his idea to start with, but she knew better, and she knew more was coming. ¡®Bend the knees more, back straighter, hold that damn sword a little higher! What is this stance, trainee? Are you inviting your foes for a roll in the sack or something?¡¯ ¡®No, sir!¡¯ Krissintha hissed through gritted teeth, adjusting her stance the best she could. ¡®Of course not! Your stance should tell any bastard that you¡¯re not to be fucked with!¡¯ Fenirig Arte yelled while circling her, his hands behind his back, checking her stance from every angle. ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ Krissintha yelled. Fenirig Arte stopped a few paces away from her. ¡®Alright then, you¡¯ve embarrassed yourself with your stance, and now your foes think they can get a piece of your little, human ass. He¡¯s on the offense, dodge!¡¯ Krissintha leaped back, arriving into the same, defensive stance, avoiding the strike of an imaginary opponent. ¡®Dodge again!¡¯ Fenirig Arte yelled. She repeated the action. ¡®A slash from high! Parry!¡¯ She parried the strike of her imaginary foe. ¡®Stabbing at your chest. Evade!¡¯ She sidestepped and knocked the invisible enemy aside. Fenirig Arte yelled instruction after instruction. Krissintha¡¯s lungs burned, sweat was stinging her eyes, and as she squinted, she could almost see the enemy before her as the instructor from hell yelled the actions. She didn¡¯t know for how long he¡¯d kept her doing defense ¡ª it must have been about ten or fifteen minutes, but it felt like it was an eternity. ¡®Alright, have you had enough of being on defense yet?¡¯ Fenirig Arte finally asked. ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ she barked the answer, wheezing. ¡®Alright then, the bastard¡¯s stabbing at your neck. Counter!¡¯ Krissy jumped back, arriving in a half-crouching position. Then she sprung forward immediately, keeping low under the imaginary blade that had been aimed at her neck. She stabbed at the unseen opponent¡¯s belly. ¡®Oh, he dodged that one! What¡¯s next?¡¯ What¡¯s next? Krissintha had gone through the stances, forms and actions hundreds of times. She knew she was never going to be as fast and graceful as an elf, but Fenirig Arte had never once said she had to be. So her opponent dodged? She knew what to do next, and she did it without thinking. She sprung up from her half-crouch with an upward slash. She was barely hearing anything except her own breathing, Fenirig Arte¡¯s words were lost to her now as she advanced against her unseen foe, stabbing, slashing, executing practiced feints, and even employing unarmed techniques she¡¯d learned from Toven. ¡®Stop!¡¯ Fenirig Arte roared. Krissintha stopped, sheathed the wooden sword and snapped to attention in the middle of the training ground, panting and trying not to collapse. She felt as if all the trees around the paved clearing were looking at her, judging her performance. Fenirig Arte stepped closer to her, scowling. ¡®That was shit ¡­¡¯ he said, but before Krissintha could react, he nodded and continued, ¡®¡­ but I¡¯m willing to throw that shit at an actual opponent. Misery, you¡¯ll have your first sparring partner tomorrow, same time same place. Don¡¯t you dare be late, or I¡¯ll nail you to that tree over there and use you as a target for archery practice. Are we clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ Krissy barked. ¡®Good. Dismissed.¡¯ *** ¡®I¡¯m not sure I want to know, but ¡­ why are you smirking, Misery? Food¡¯s not that good,¡¯ someone asked her in Elvish. Krissintha looked up from her plate of roast meat and bread, and locked eyes with Arde as he sat down at her table with his own tray. The voices of the ten or so trainees in the cafeteria sunk into the background as she focused on the young man. Then she lowered her head again and took a bite of her bread. ¡®I¡¯m not ¡­ smirking,¡¯ Krissintha replied, also in Elvish and with her mouth full. ¡®Yes you are. Well, what happened?¡¯ Arde asked. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡®Nothing. Hellspawn Fenar just told me I¡¯m ready to spar with someone,¡¯ Krissintha said, and she admitted to herself that she was smirking, just a little. ¡®Oh, finally. I mean ¡­ after four months it was time,¡¯ Arde said, clapping his hands theatrically, almost laughing, but then he quieted down and leaned in closer over the table. ¡®Listen, Misery, how about you spar with me? Tonight?¡¯ ¡®I can barely move. Look, my hands are shaking. I¡¯m going to bed.¡¯ Krissintha said, holding up her hands for the young man to see. ¡®Oh, come on,¡¯ Arde whispered, leaning even closer. ¡®You can use power, can¡¯t you? I don¡¯t want to spar with a trainee, I want to spar with a spiritualist. And who knows where your friend, Kiwa is.¡¯ Krissintha looked around in a panic, making sure no-one was listening to them. Elves had good hearing, but the few, tired looking trainees in the cafeteria seemed to be immersed in their own dinners and conversations. ¡®No one¡¯s supposed to know that. Keep quiet, will you?¡¯ Krissintha whispered back to the man angrily. ¡®It¡¯s weird enough to be a human here, so don¡¯t make it worse. Why Toven had to tell you about me, I¡¯ll never understand.¡¯ ''I didn''t know at the time you were going to be in ranger training, '' Arde said, shrugging. ''But he did,'' Krissintha said, sneering. ¡®Listen, I¡¯m not allowed to use power while I¡¯m training.¡¯ Arde took a sip of his tea, then smiled at her. ¡®It wouldn¡¯t be training, just ¡­ you know, two trainees having some fun,¡¯ he said. Krissintha drank some of her own, bitter tea, and said, ¡®Arde, I had endurance training today, then sword practice, then I sat through a lecture on tracking and navigation. I¡¯m going to bed after dinner.¡¯ ¡®But ¡­ that¡¯s pretty light, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Arde argued. ¡®Yeah, for you,¡¯ Krissintha scoffed. ¡®Oh shit,¡¯ Arde groaned as he looked towards the entrance. Krissintha turned to look as well. She saw a man walking in, ignoring all the heads that turned his way as he briskly navigated through the tables, coming straight to where Krissintha and Arde sat. The man stopped at their table and glared down at her. ¡®Uhm ¡­ can I help you?¡¯ Krissintha asked, looking up at the tall elf. She had seen the man around ¡ª he was a trainee, but she didn¡¯t know his name, and she certainly didn¡¯t know why he was here, looking at her like his most fervent desire was to put an arrow in her. ¡®I wanted to have a look at the human Hellspawn Fenar wants me to spar with,¡¯ he said. ¡®Oh shit,¡¯ Arde mumbled, shaking his head. The man glanced at him, and Arde smiled innocently. ¡®Well, you¡¯ve seen me now, so if that¡¯s all, than ¡­¡¯ Krissintha said, then took a sip of her tea. ¡®What is he thinking?¡¯ the man said, scowling at her. ¡®He¡¯s wasting my training time. You¡¯re human. You¡¯re not going to last two seconds. Why does he want me to spar with you?¡¯ ¡®If you want to know, you¡¯ll have to ask him,¡¯ Krissintha said, shrugging. ¡®Hmph. Don¡¯t be late tomorrow. Two seconds, human, two seconds,¡¯ the man said, then he turned around and left as quickly as he had come. Krissintha and Arde stared at each other for a few moments. ¡®Who¡¯s he?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®Tivarra Mor,¡¯ Arde said. ¡®If he¡¯s the one you¡¯re sparring with, then you really might not last longer than two seconds.¡¯ ¡®Is he that good?¡¯ ¡®Yeah. He¡¯s going to wipe the floor with you.¡¯ Arde said, giving her a sympathetic smile. ¡®What the hell is Fenar thinking?¡¯ Krissintha wailed, massaging her forehead. ¡®That I don¡¯t know. But do me a favour, Misery,¡¯ Arde said. ¡®Try to last at least five seconds. I want to see the face Timo makes when his pride is hurt.¡¯ *** The morning endurance training was as harsh as ever. Krissintha was gulping the cold, morning air as she walked up to the training ground armory. She went in, put the bow, the quiver and her bag back onto the shelves under the watchful eyes of Tovaron Ento. She breathed out long, then turned to leave the building, but Toven stopped her. ¡®Tivarra Mor is good,¡¯ he said. Krissintha raised an eyebrow ¡ª so even he had heard about the upcoming sparring session. ¡®I¡¯ve watched him train. He¡¯s a swordsman through and through. He does a lot of feints and lures his opponent in. He likes low counters, prefers slashes rather than stabs. But he doesn¡¯t do exceptionally well in unarmed combat.¡¯ ¡®Are you ¡­ giving me advice?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®I¡¯m not your sword trainer. I¡¯m just sharing some observations,¡¯ Toven said. ¡®Anyway, good luck. You have the day off tomorrow. Will you come visit the Deni? And the mutts?¡¯ ¡®I will,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Alright then, good luck with the sparring,¡¯ he said. ¡®Try to last at least ten seconds.¡¯ *** Krissintha drew her practice sword the same time Tivarra Mor did, gripping it with both hands, assuming a mid-guard stance. They waited for Fenirig Arte to signal the start of the bout. Krissintha was as ready as she could be: she focused on nothing else but the tall elf standing a few paces in front of her, on his high-guard stance, trying to anticipate his first move. Even the slowest of the elves was faster then her ¡ª merely reacting to her opponent¡¯s actions wasn¡¯t an option. She had to guess and guess right what his first move would be. A feint, perhaps aimed at her neck, but ending in a low slash. Two seconds sounded about right. If she could dodge the opening move, perhaps she could last five seconds. Five seconds. Sounded easy, but she knew it would be anything but. Fenirig Arte whistled. Tivarra Mor leaped at her, his sword coming down, aimed at her neck. Krissintha jumped back and to the side, but she knew she wasn¡¯t going to be fast enough. She had to parry. Despite instinct screaming at her to protect her neck, she swung her sword to protect her side. She¡¯d been right: Tivarra Mor brought his sword down, and the force of the clash nearly knocked her weapon out of her hands as she protected her side. The elf was surprised by the failure of his feint, and Krissintha took advantage of it. She stabbed at her opponent¡¯s chest. The man dodged it with ease. She sidestepped, avoiding another slash at her belly, then backed away. The elf advanced on her, closing the distance faster than she could retreat. He stabbed at her this time, and Krissintha barely managed to dodge it, jumping back. She skidded to a halt, then sprung forward with a feint of her own, sword up, ready to slash at his neck. The man didn¡¯t back away, but he didn¡¯t fall for the faint either. He moved to parry as she stabbed at his stomach instead of his neck, but that wasn¡¯t what Krissintha had in mind either. She barreled into the elf, elbowing him in the chin. The man reeled back, eyes wide with his second surprise today. Krissintha didn¡¯t waste a second. She was too close to swing her weapon at him, so she kicked at his knee. The man stepped back, faster than she¡¯d seen anyone move. Her kick didn¡¯t connect, but the distance was good now. She stabbed forward. Tivarra Mor twisted himself out of the blade¡¯s way, and before Krissintha could do anything else, the man was somehow behind her. She only saw her opponent¡¯s wooden sword from the corner of her eye. She felt the impact on her side, then half a second later, the pain. She blinked, and the next thing she saw was the wet ground, surprisingly close, and at a strange angle. She was down. ¡®Grrr ¡­ awww ¡­¡¯ she groaned, rolling to her back, holding onto her sword with one hand, trying to reach and touch her side with the other. ¡®I think ¡­ I broke a ¡­ rib,¡¯ she wheezed. Your ribs are fine, I just checked. You¡¯re going to have a big bruise though. Kevin¡¯s voice echoed in her mind for the first time in days. Tivarra Mor stepped closer to stand over her. He glared at her. ¡®What the hell was this?¡¯ he demanded. Seventeen, Krissy, seventeen. Kevin said, sounding excited. Krissintha met the man¡¯s gaze and tried to smile. ¡®Seventeen seconds. That¡¯s what it was,¡¯ she said, pain flaring up every time she took a breath. Tivarra Mor glared even harder, scowling like his life depended on it. Then he looked at Fenirig Arte. ¡®This ¡­ this isn¡¯t swordsmanship,¡¯ he complained. ¡®Master Fenirig Arte, what was the point of this? A human? And brawling?¡¯ Fenirig Arte finally deemed it the right time to say something. ¡®And just who do you think you are to tell me what swordsmanship is?¡¯ he barked at the man ¡®You shitheaded fool just got punched in the face in a sword fight, and you want to tell me what¡¯s what? Un-fuckin-believable. Well, let¡¯s see if you have enough of a brain to figure out what the point was, shall we? Dismissed.¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Tivarra Mor said. ¡®Heh! Seventeen. Not two. Seventeen,¡¯ Krissintha hissed at him from the ground, feeling quite good about rubbing it in. ¡®You counted,¡¯ Tivarra Mor said, looking like he might just produce a real blade and skewer her any moment. ¡®Of course I counted,¡¯ she lied. The tall elf shook his head and gave Krissintha one last look of disdain before he left. Krissintha pulled herself up, every move coming with a pulse of pain in her side. She sheathed her training sword, swearing silently, and she managed to stand more or less at attention. ¡®And what in the shit-drenched hell are you looking so satisfied for?¡¯ Fenirig Arte thundered at Krissintha. ¡®Do you perhaps think that you¡¯ve done well?¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ yes, sir,¡¯ she said. ¡®I see. I was sure you could go a minute against that idiot, and you went and proved me wrong, jumping right into one of his stupid feints. Well, at least you punched him in the face. Go have a surgeon look at you, then think about how to actually handle a fight like this! Dismissed.¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissy hissed. Fenirig Arte turned around and left, leaving Krissintha in the middle of the paved clearing. I think you¡¯ve done very well. Kevin said. Krissintha smiled ¡ª she thought so, too. Chapter Forty-three Chapter Forty-three I liked it when Krissy had a day off. Not that I had a problem with her spending most of her time training ¡ª since I wasn¡¯t allowed to help her, I had time to experiment, especially during the night when she was asleep. Although, my experiments had yielded limited results so far. I was close to completing a room for storing Spirit Stuff: my Tentacle Horror instinct had confirmed that I needed to use a similar combination of Essence, Mana and Spirit Stuff as I had for Jack¡¯s Room, but the Essence needed to be refined and altered, and that was taking time. I had time, but today I had a different project to complete. Krissy was sipping a cup of tea, sitting on the settee in Toven¡¯s living room. Thor, Loki and Freya were playing under the table, competing over a piece of dried meat. Oh, how the pups had grown in a single month: they were already the size of smaller, adult dogs, like a dachshund, but not as long. Akela and Misty were both sleeping in the garden, in the artificial alcove behind Toven¡¯s favourite tree. It seemed parenthood was an exhausting thing even for wolves, and it was heartwarming that Misty had grown to trust us enough to leave the kids with Auntie Krissy and the invisible Uncle Kevin. Someone knocked on the door. Deni rushed out from the kitchen to let Kenta and Tommy in. They entered into the living room, bringing a small, wooden box with them. They bowed their heads both to Krissy and Deni, and settled down on the chairs around the table, leaving the box on the ground next to them. The pups, with the piece of meat now gone, decided to explore this new development, and sniffed and bit at the hard, leather boots of the men, the box, and even the legs of the table and chairs. Cute, energetic little buggers, weren¡¯t they? Deni brought tea for the sailors, then sat down at the table with them. ¡®Is Master Toven not home?¡¯ Kenta asked in Elvish. ¡®He¡¯s at the training ground, tormenting some trainees,¡¯ Deni answered in Treini, ¡®It¡¯s better than him going on patrols for weeks, or ¡­¡¯ she paused, glancing over at Krissy ¡®¡­ fighting evil spirits.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s what ranger¡¯s do,¡¯ Krissintha said, taking a sip of tea, then leaning back on the settee. ¡®Unfortunately.¡¯ Deni sighed, then turned to the sailors. ¡®So, what¡¯s in the box? Is it what I think it is?¡¯ Kenta and Tommi smiled as they looked at Krissy, or rather, trying to look at me. ¡®Go ahead!¡¯ I said to them both. Krissy didn¡¯t hear me, but the two sailors sprung up and lifted the box onto the table, and pried the lid off ¡®Hm. Smells nice,¡¯ Deni commented, and even Krissy moved her head to look this time. I snaked a tentie closer to the box to see the contents: a few, small bags of different tea leaves, a pot filled with the dried shavings from the skin of civat-fruits, some juice from the same fruits, and a bottle of fresh milk. Unfortunately I was unable to taste or smell things, but based on the descriptions Kenta and Tommy had provided, I was sure the weird, green fruits were the closest things to lemons or bergamots or other citrus-y fruits. ¡®Oh my, how many civats did you buy?¡¯ Deni asked, still peering into the box. ¡®Ah, a lot. I went spendin¡¯ Tommi¡¯s weekly pay on it,¡¯ Kenta answered, while Tommy displayed an unhappy grimace. ¡®Damn things are expensive.¡¯ ¡®Well, they¡¯re import goods,¡¯ Deni said, nodding. ¡®I think they come from ¡­¡¯ ¡®Thyssa,¡¯ Krissy said without moving a muscle. ¡®My ¡­ family used to own a few plantations.¡¯ ¡®Yes. Thyssa,¡¯ Deni agreed. That made sense. The little Krissy had told me about her home sounded like a warm, mediterranean-type country, like Spain, or Italy. And from what she had said it was pretty far from here, so the transportation costs must have been high. Civats weren¡¯t widely available here; it was expensive, but the wealthier elves liked the sour, almost bitter marmalade made from the fruits, or so I¡¯d been told. ¡®Well, we don¡¯t need a lot of it, at least not at the moment.¡¯ I said. Kevin, are you sure we can go makin¡¯ money with this? Plenty of different teas around here already. Tommi¡¯s thought echoed in my mind. Oi, you. If he says we can then we can. Kenta shut him down. ''Listen guys, Solace is an island nation of posh elves who love gardening, reject the way the continent does things, and would kill for nice cup of tea. They are basically my people. They will love Earl Grey.'' I explained it to them. I understood their reservations, but I was more than just confident in our little project. ¡®I like the idea, but you know we don¡¯t really like fruity drinks,¡¯ Deni said, looking at Kenta. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, Missus Deni, Kevin¡¯s sayin¡¯ it ain¡¯t gonna be sweet. Just ¡­ fragrant-y, or somethin¡¯, but not like ¡®em herbal teas.¡¯ Kenta informed her. ¡®Is this what you¡¯ve been plotting? Tea?¡¯ Krissy asked, sounding unimpressed, not bothering to stand up to take a closer look at the treasures the sailors had gathered at my behest. ¡®Yeah, Lady Krissintha. Tea,¡¯ Tommy said. ¡®Fine,¡¯ Krissy said, then leaned back again and closed her eyes. ¡®So, how do we do this?¡¯ Deni asked. *** Krissy ignored the ongoings, complained about her side hurting, then she lied down on the settee and dozed off almost immediately. I explained to Kenta and Tommi what had happened yesterday ¡ª the guys were proud of their boss-lady holding out for seventeen seconds against that arrogant bastard. Even Deni agreed that a human who¡¯d been training only for four months lasting that long against an elven ranger trainee was quite the achievement. So we let Krissy rest, and Deni took the two sailors to the kitchen. I stretched a tentie through the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, keeping it over Kenta¡¯s shoulder so I could see everything. ¡®Don¡¯t put a lot of civat, just two pinches maybe. Then brew it for two minutes maximum,¡¯ I told Kenta, and he relayed the instructions to Deni. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Deni put some of the loose black tea leaves into the jar, added two pinches of the dried shavings, then filled it up with hot water, stirred it with a spoon, and let it sit. ¡®It smells nice,¡¯ Deni commented. ¡®Sweet, even. Are you sure it won¡¯t taste too sweet?¡¯ ¡®Kevin says it won¡¯t, unless you put honey in it,¡¯ Kenta interpreted for me. ¡®Honey? Oh my. Why would anyone do that?¡¯ Deni asked with a horrified expression on her face. ¡®Dunno, Missus Deni, it¡¯s just something Kevin said. Don¡¯t go takin¡¯ ¡®im too seriously,¡¯ Kenta said, shrugging. After two minutes, Deni poured the tea through a fine sieve into another jug, and took three cups from the cabinet. This was the moment of truth, and I watched as the three of them lifted their cups to their lips and tasted our first attempt at Earl Grey. ¡®Hm. It¡¯s ¡­ not bad,¡¯ Deni said, but she didn¡¯t sound convincing. ¡®But?¡¯ Kenta asked at my request. ¡®I don¡¯t think this blend goes well with the civat. Or maybe it¡¯s the brewing time,¡¯ she said. ¡®Then let¡¯s go tryin¡¯ the other teas,¡¯ Kenta suggested. Deni put a piece of wood on the fire under the stove, then opened the second bag of tea leaves, sniffed it, and smiled at the sailors. ¡®Let¡¯s try this one then, shall we?¡¯ *** Deni scribbled on a piece of paper what I assumed was the latest combination of the type and amount of tea, the amount of dried civat shavings, and of course the brewing time. Maybe something more, too. I had picked up enough Elvish over the months to be better than just conversational ¡ª we all had ¡ª but the rune-like characters were many and difficult to learn. ¡®This is it,¡¯ she said, smiling at Kenta and Tommy, pointing at her cup. ¡®The fragrance is great, the flavour is subtle and unique, with just a pleasantly small hint at sweetness. And it doesn¡¯t need a lot of civat. People will like this.¡¯ After two hours of experimenting, we finally had our elf-approved blend of Earl Grey. At least I hoped it was like Earl Grey. Oh, how I wished I could taste it. I missed a good cup of tea, but it was what it was. I had make do with the knowledge that I had a tentacle in introducing one of the greatest teas in existence to the indigenous population. I really was leaving my mark on the world, wasn¡¯t I? ¡®Hm. I¡¯m likin¡¯ this,¡¯ Tommy said. ¡®Still bitter, but this fruit-thing¡¯s really makin¡¯ it as if it wasn¡¯t bitter.¡¯ ¡®So we all agree that this is it, correct?¡¯ Deni asked, looking serious all of a sudden, writing something else down. ¡®Try a cup with milk, then try a cup with a little civat-juice,¡¯ I told Kenta and Tommi. Deni made another jar, using the exact same amounts of ingredients, and she was happy that the result was the same. All three of them tried a cup with milk, then another with a few drops of civat-juice, and I eagerly waited for the verdict. ¡®I like it with milk more,¡¯ Deni said. ¡®I¡¯ve never had tea with milk. It¡¯s ¡­ novel. But I know a lot of people who would go for the extra sourness of the civat-juice. Both will work.¡¯ ¡®I like it with the juice,¡¯ Tommy said, nodding, then he took another sip of his tea. ¡®Milk for me,¡¯ Kenta said. ''Alright, I am thrilled to hear you all like it. Kenta, please ask Deni what the next step will be?¡¯ I said to the sailor. Kenta relayed the question. ¡®We will need to go and see someone at both at the Manufacturing and Trade Committees, fill in some forms, provide a sample for approval for both, then we need to set up some sort of outlet, maybe a shop.¡¯ ¡®What about advertising?¡¯ I asked, and Kenta repaeated the question. ¡®Don¡¯t worry about that,¡¯ Deni laughed. ¡®Gal-Themar isn¡¯t that large. Once a few people taste the new tea, everyone will know where to get it. Deni was excited about this, I could tell; her eyes were shining with anticipation. ¡®Aren¡¯t this gonna go pissin¡¯ off other tea-shops?¡¯ Kenta asked. ¡®I¡¯ve seen it happenin¡¯ before. Could turn nasty.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t think so,¡¯ Deni said. ¡®There will be an initial rush, I imagine, when everyone will want to have a taste. Then it will slow down. Ours will be somewhat pricier than other teas, and people will still keep buying their old blends. But I expect steady sales.¡¯ ¡®So that¡¯s fine then,¡¯ Kenta nodded. ¡®There is one issue, though,¡¯ Deni said. ¡®The only reason merchants bring civats to Gal-Themar is because of that marmalade-man ¡­ I forget his name, but he¡¯s the one buying most of it to make that goo. We¡¯ll need to make a deal with him for the skins of the fruits. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s using them for anything, but we¡¯ll need to check. You can leave that to me.¡¯ ¡®Awright, what else?¡¯ Kenta asked. ¡®Well, obviously I want in on this, so we¡¯ll need to set up an official partnership,¡¯ Deni said. ¡®We can do that at the Trade Committee¡¯s office.¡¯ I didn¡¯t have a problem with this, in fact, I was going to suggest it myself. We weren¡¯t going to stay in Solace forever, that much was certain. We hadn¡¯t heard from Wensah ever since her last visit, and I had no idea when she¡¯d show up again, telling us to go here or there to set up a Bureau for her. I knew it was coming sooner or later, and Deni was just the person to handle business in our absence. Kenta agreed to everything on my behalf, and Deni smiled as she took another sip of her milky tea. ¡®Uhm ¡­ what was the name again?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Earl Grey, I think.¡¯ Kenta said. ¡®Earl ¡­ Grey. Alright, it sounds exotic. Should work,¡¯ Deni said, nodding. What does it mean? Does it mean anything?¡¯ ¡®Dunno, Missus Deni, it¡¯s somethin¡¯ from Kevin¡¯s mind, I think.¡¯ Kenta said, and I didn¡¯t think it was necessary to explain the origins of the tea ¡ª they got the name right, and that¡¯s what mattered. ¡®Well, it¡¯s not midday yet, so maybe we could go get the paperwork done, or at least get the forms?¡¯ Deni said. She then listened to the growling, whining and clattering sounds the pups were making in the living room. What shocked me was that Krissy slept through the ruckus as if she was in a soft bed in a soundproofed room. Deni excused herself for a moment and let the pups back out into the garden, then came back to the kitchen. ¡®So, shall we wake Misery up and go to town?¡¯ she asked. *** Krissy wasn¡¯t happy to be woken up, but she rubbed the sleepiness out of her eyes, complaining a bit about her side still hurting. She begrudgingly let Deni help her change into ¡­ well, civilian clothes ¡ª she lent her a nice dress and an overcoat. I didn¡¯t think the dress would have fitted her a few months ago, but she was almost as tall as the elf, and she had become quite lean. Deni scowled when she saw the large bruise on her side, and the smaller, older ones elsewhere on her body, and she swore she was going to have a word with Toven about the training methods employed by Fenar¡¯s Third Rangers. Then we all went out for a walk. Toven and Deni¡¯s house was closer to the edge of town than to the center, and it took about half an hour of slow paced walking to get to town proper. The paved roads ¡ª wide or narrow ¡ª were all flanked by trees to the point I really felt like I was in a forest with a lot of houses thrown around haphazardly. Because of the trees, Gal-Themar was a rather dark town, even at the end of winter where most trees were still naked. People didn¡¯t seem bothered by this, however ¡ª sunlight might have been an overrated phenomenon amongst the elves, who knew. The people of the city were out and about ¡ª most of them exchanged greetings with Deni, some even recognised Kenta and Tommi, and nodded their heads to them. I saw a few elven kids, which had been a rare sight, at least for me, who spent most of his time with Krissy at the Third Ranger¡¯s training grounds and barracks. As we approached the centre of town, the view changed. The trees all but disappeared, giving way to an enormous clearing paved with light green, stone tiles. People just called it the Plaza. I was sure it had a name ¡ª as most streets had names, very much like any city back on Earth ¡ª but I didn¡¯t know what that name was. The Plaza was easily the size of four or five football pitches, if not more. This was the place where it all happened. This was where statues and monuments had been erected to past heroes or leaders. This was where the important offices of important committees occupied some of the three and four story buildingg that surrounded this huge square. This was where the main markets and shops were. This was where the only theater in town was located. This was where you came to sit in a shop or restaurant to socialise when not in the mood to invite people over to your home. Krissy and I had visited the centre of town only once before ¡ª the sight and the experience of the busy, bustling place was still kind of new to the both of us. Deni of course knew the place like the back of her hand, and Kenta and Tommy seemed comfortable. The three of them moved among the people, the statues, the stalls, as if they had spent a lifetime here already. Krissy followed them without a word, looking left and right, speeding whenever a street vendor called out to her to have a look at some wares. Deni took us to the building that housed the offices of the Manufacturing and Trading Committee ¡ª luckily they were in the same building. ¡®So, are we ready to make this official?¡¯ she asked, looking at my three humans. ¡®We are.¡¯ Kenta said, relaying my words. Krissy just stared at them with eyebrows raised, and I realised we had forgot to fill her in on the details of what was going on Chapter Forty-four Chapter Forty-four ¡®¡­ and then you can go fillin¡¯ ¡®em small cotton pouches with the tea, puttin¡¯ the same amount of dried civat into each of ¡®em pouches. Then tie it off with a string, and you get what Kevin¡¯s callin¡¯ a tea bag.¡¯ Kenta finished the explanation, repeating my words to Deni more or less accurately. ¡®Hm. That certainly solves the problem of uneven distribution of the civat-shavings. Makes brewing quicker, too,¡¯ Deni hummed thoughtfully. ¡®Why has no-one thought of this before? It¡¯s ¡­ simple.¡¯ ¡®I know a place where people had been drinking tea for hundreds of years before they figured this out.¡¯ I said, and Kenta repeated it to Deni. Krissy and Tommy returned from the counter, bringing our orders on two trays. They sat down and distributed the loot: everyone received a cup of tea and a plate of crumbly scones that was apparently the the house special ¡ª I couldn¡¯t taste it myself, but according to Deni they weren¡¯t sweet, and they were a great accompaniment to tea. It seemed popular: almost every patron at every table had at least one portion of this non-sweet dessert-like thing in front of them. I didn¡¯t understand why the elves disliked sweet things, but it was what it was. I couldn¡¯t see anyone eating or ordering proper meals either, and I concluded that the Elvish word for this kind of establishment probably meant tea-house, rather than restaurant. Deni was excited, already dreaming of opening a similar place. I didn¡¯t want to stifle her enthusiasm so I didn¡¯t say anything, but I thought it was more realistic to become a producer and distributer of Earl Grey tea-bags first, make some profit, and then ¡ª if things went well ¡ª she could think about opening a place like this. It would take time to set everything up and get things going. Time passed quickly. They ordered more and more tea and different pastries, and I was beginning to enjoy our afternoon in town. It was a little cumbersome to talk to Deni through Kenta or Krissy, but it worked, and for the first time in who knows how long it felt like I really was a part of this small company of friends. Unfortunately evening was coming, and the end of our outing along with it. Kenta and Deni put together the fifty-something Kyns our food and drink cost, then we took our time walking back to Deni¡¯s place. Krissy gave a good belly-rub to Akela and each of the pups. Misty of course didn¡¯t let anyone touch her, but that was alright. Kenta and Tommy were staying a bit longer so I could still talk to Deni ¡ª she was going to start filling in the forms we had got from the committee clerks. Krissy said her good-byes and headed back to the barracks. *** Fourteen seconds. That¡¯s how long Krissy lasted against that guy, Tivarra Mor, when Hellspawn Fenar arranged their second sparring session two days later. The elf had obviously thought hard about how to fight against Krissy and how to deliver on his publicly promised two seconds. But so had Krissy. Their third bout another two days later went pretty well for Krissy ¡ª nineteen seconds. Timo was furious, but he gave up on the idea of complaining about it: once the bout was over, he just left. Yet another two days later, Krissy was on the ground after six seconds, her nose bleeding like a fountain, but even that wasn¡¯t enough for Timo. The elf became completely fixated on the idea of those two seconds. I didn¡¯t think it was ever going to happen, and it was clear even to someone like me, who had never held a sword, that his single minded determination to finish the fight with his first move was actually a detriment. Of course no-one was going to point it out to him, not even Fenar ¡ª probably some vain hope that the man would realise this on his own ¡ª and Krissy continued to take advantage of it. She lasted twenty-four seconds during their fourth bout. I was worried about Krissy ¡ª over the past few months she had got used to pain to the point where she ignored it sometimes. I was sure it was a desirable quality for a soldier ¡ª the way she could now focus on the objectives before her, even through pain, was impressive. But I didn¡¯t think it was healthy in the long term. As far as I could tell, she was already as skilled and dangerous as a human could get after almost half a year of training, and that was without my help. I hoped her training would be finished soon. *** Another two days passed. Krissy finished her morning endurance training with Toven, and the man went on his way to give a hard time to some other ranger trainees. Krissy headed to the usual clearing to wait for Fenar and Timo. She was ready for another sparring session ¡ª she had some new tricks up her sleeve, tricks that involved headbutting the annoying brat. I tried to advise against it, but Krissy was adamant that she had to do something new to throw the guy off balance. But instead of the hellspawn and the prick, another elf came to us. I didn¡¯t know the man¡¯s name, but I recognised him as one of Fenar¡¯s aides. ¡®Misery, Master Fenar wants to see you in his office,¡¯ the man said with a tone of absolute indifference, then turned around and walked away. ¡®What does he want now?¡¯ I asked, all sorts of trepidation bubbling up in me all of a sudden. ¡®Only one way to find out,¡¯ Krissy said with a sigh, and she started walking to one of the administrative buildings a couple of clearings and a lot of trees away from us. It took a few minutes to get there. Krissy entered the building, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door of Fenar¡¯s office. ¡®Come in!¡¯ Fenar¡¯s voice came through, and Krissy opened the door. She stepped into the office, then stopped and stared at the occupants of the room. I wasn¡¯t sure what was going on, but I did not like what I saw either. The office was as spartan as always. Fenar sat behind his desk, the huge map of the Solace Islands on the wall behind him. One of his other aides sat at a smaller desk near the window. All of this was normal. What wasn¡¯t normal was the presence of the three ranger trainees, standing at attention before Fenar¡¯s desk: Timo the Prick, Arde, and a woman I didn¡¯t know. ¡®What are you standing there for? Shut the damn door and at least pretend you know how to present yourself!¡¯ Fenar roared at Krissy. ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissy said, quickly shaking her momentary surprise off. She shut the door behind her and joined the trainee-line, standing at attention. ¡®Right,¡¯ Fenar said, looking at the four trainees. ¡®The four of you are now Team Twenty-seven of the Third Ranger¡¯s Training Company.¡¯ The announcement clearly didn¡¯t have the desired effect: Fenirig Arte narrowed his eyes at four bewildered faces before him, scowled, then said, ¡®Did you not hear me, trainees?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ the four of them chorused. ¡®But sir ¡­¡¯ Timo started to say after the affirmative, glancing over to Krissy. ¡®But what? You¡¯ve been training for a year and you still don¡¯t fucking know who I am?¡¯ Fenirig Arte thundered at the man. ¡®I happen to be the Master of the Third Rangers. Do you know what that means? It means I give orders, and you carry them out. Holy shit in a spirit-bucket, I thought this had been clear when you joined.¡¯ Fenirig Arte looked at his aide. ¡®Rican, why are we the ones getting all the idiots?¡¯ The aide looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, shrugged, then went back to doing whatever it was he was doing, pretending nothing was happening. ¡®I¡¯m having second thoughts about putting you in charge of the team,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said to Timo, then he turned to Krissy. ¡®Misery! Any thoughts on the matter?¡¯ ¡®No, sir,¡¯ Krissy replied immediately. ¡®Do you want to be team leader?¡¯ Fenirig Arte demanded. ¡®No, sir.¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Then who should I put in charge of the worst training team in the history of the whole fucking world?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Whoever you see fit, sir,¡¯ Krissy replied. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Fenirig Arte¡¯s mouth twitched ¡ª it was almost a smile, or at least I thought it was. Then the scar-faced elf turned back to Tivarra Mor. ¡®Did you hear that, trainee? Those were good answers, and for all the spare grace in hell, that makes the human more qualified to be team leader than you.¡¯ Timo opened and closed his mouth without a sound, and in the end he just gulped. I watched as a bead of sweat rolled down the prick¡¯s face. While I did enjoy watching him panic and squirm, I wasn¡¯t sure what Fenirig Arte was doing, but I was sure it wasn¡¯t going to increase Krissy¡¯s popularity. Arde and the so far unnamed woman seemed calm enough, and Krissy, who had been training directly under Fenar, was already used to the kind of tongue-lashing happening here. Fenirig Arte picked a rolled up piece of paper from his desk, stood up and stepped to Timo. ¡®Well, I guess you¡¯ll be team leader after all,¡¯ Fenar said to him and handed him the paper. ¡®These are your first orders. I expect you and your team to carry them out to the letter. Are we clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Timo and his team replied. ¡®Dismissed.¡¯ *** Akela and the three pups were in the living room with us, getting belly-rubs from everyone. It was nice to see Thor, Loki and Freya growing up and enjoying the royal treatment as much as their father did. Akela of course privatised Krissy for himself, laying on the settee next to her, his head on her lap. Thor and Loki were with Kenta and Tommi, receiving small pieces of dried meat in return for little tricks, such as give palm or beg ¡ª the pups learned fast, and the sailors-turned-tea-merchants seemed to be pretty good wolf-trainers. Deni sat on her armchair, Freya on her lap, almost asleep. And since it was a particularly cold evening outside, despite being early spring, even Misty was here, curled up in a corner and dozing off indoors rather than out in the garden. Wolves were wild animals, their instincts as strong as their distrust of humans ¡ª or in this case elves ¡ª but Akela¡¯s family had come a long way. In Akela¡¯s case I was sure it had something to do with the connection I had with him. As far as the pups were concerned, it was probably upbringing, the good old nature versus nurture thing. And then there was Misty. My guess was that in her case it was a combination of Akela¡¯s influence and just going with the flow. Whatever the reason, they were used to living in Toven¡¯s garden, and I was yet to hear a complaint from them. If anything, I thought they were quite happy about getting regular meals. Toven sat at the table, the string of a tea bag hanging out of his cup of steaming Earl Grey. He finally put Krissy¡¯s new sword down on the table, and took a sip of his drink. ¡®This is an old sword, made in Fayr-Sitan,¡¯ he said. ¡®And it¡¯s a good one. Is this ¡­ from Fenar¡¯s own collection?¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®He just said he didn¡¯t want to give me one from the ranger¡¯s armory, you know, since I¡¯m not going to be a ranger. Then gave this to me.¡¯ ¡®Makes sense,¡¯ Toven mused. ¡®So, when are you leaving?¡¯ ¡®Tomorrow morning,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Did you manage to read the orders?¡¯ Toven asked. ¡®Arde helped me,¡¯ she said, grmiacing. ¡®Your runes are ¡­ difficult.¡¯ ¡®Gonna be gone long, my lady? Business is pickin¡¯ up, you know.¡¯ Kenta asked, joining in the discussion. ¡®Oh yeah, went makin¡¯ a bunch of ¡®em bags. Sold ¡­ dunno, a thousands already,¡¯ Tommi said, almost singing in his excitement, rather than talking. ¡®We made over two hundred boxes of fifty bags each,¡¯ Deni said, then took a sip of her own tea. ¡®Sold almost a hundred-and-fifty of them already. Fifteen Kyns a box. Remember the tea-house we went to? They are serving it now, and people are asking them where to buy the tea bags. I think soon we might have to hire some people to help making them.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ good news,¡¯ Krissy nodded, scratching Akela¡¯s head. ¡®I wish I could help, but ¡­ you know. Orders.¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re getting off topic here,¡¯ Toven said, then looked at Krissy. ¡®So you¡¯ve got Timo and Arde on your team. Who¡¯s the fourth?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not my team. It¡¯s Timo¡¯s.¡¯ Krissy said. Toven scoffed, but let Krissy continue. ¡®A woman. Hisa ¡­ uh ¡­ Hiraken Sala, I think that was her name.¡¯ Toven went quiet, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Krissy. ¡®Hiraken Sala. Are you sure? He put Hiraken Sala on your team?¡¯ Toven said, as if he couldn¡¯t believe what he¡¯d just heard. ¡®Yes, Hiraken Sala. And again, it¡¯s Timo¡¯s team,¡¯ Krissy said, shrugging. ¡®Why? Do you know her? Is she ¡­ uh ¡­ trouble?¡¯ ¡®She¡¯s not going to cause problems, she¡¯s good,¡¯ Toven said, sighing and then shrugging. ¡®Don¡¯t tell anyone I told you, but ¡­ she¡¯s Fenar¡¯s granddaughter.¡¯ Silence fell on the room, even Thor and Loki stopped playing, looking around, no doubt surprised by the sudden absence of sounds. ¡®Fenar ¡­ has family?¡¯ I asked. I didn¡¯t know why, but I just couldn¡¯t picture the man outside of a military setting. Or a battle. Or tormenting trainees. Family? Him? Come on. ¡®Fenar ¡­ has familiy?¡¯ Krissy repeated the question out loud, apparently just as skeptical about the concept as I was. ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t he?¡¯ Toven said, bemused. ¡®I mean ¡­ I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m just wondering how he might be at home, you know. I can picture everyone in his family calling him ¡°sir¡± and shaking in fear.¡¯ Krissy said, grinning. I agreed with the notion. Toven, on the other hand, started laughing. ¡®What?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®Well,¡¯ Toven began to explain, wiping a tear from his eye. ¡®Master Fenar¡¯s wife actually outranks him, so I don¡¯t think she calls him ¡°sir¡±. ¡®She¡¯s a ranger?¡¯ Krissy asked, gawking at Toven. ¡®No, she¡¯s not.¡¯ Toven scoffed. ¡®She¡¯s a permanent member of the Solace Ruling Council. Oh, and she¡¯s also on the Defense Committee. And she is older than Master Fenar.¡¯ ¡®How old?¡¯ Krissy and I asked at the same time. ¡®Not sure ¡­ three-hundred-and-something?¡¯ he guessed. ¡®They are both First Wave Settlers.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ old,¡¯ Kenta remarked. ¡®Yeah. Old.¡¯ Deni nodded, sipping her tea. This was a new and shocking piece of information. At least to me. Fenirig Arte looked ¡­ hm ¡­ like someone in his forties. Over three hundred years old, though? Then again, they were elves, and I began to wonder why it hadn¡¯t occurred to me before to ask how long elves lived, or how aging worked for them. And as if that hadn¡¯t been enough, it sounded suspiciously like Fenar¡¯s wife was some sort of politician, or high ranking government official. ¡®How old are you?¡¯ Krissy asked Toven. ¡®I¡¯m not telling you that.¡¯ Toven shook his head. ¡®He¡¯s a hundred-and-seven,¡¯ Deni said, looking at Krissy, grinning. A hundred-and-seven. He looked to be in his mid twenties. So did Deni. Toven gave his wife a murderous glare, then shrugged, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to let the matter go, but then he said, ¡®She¡¯s ninety-nine.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not a secret, Tovi.¡¯ Deni shrugged. ¡®No, but we¡¯re getting off topic again. Misery!¡¯ Toven said. ¡®Did you understand the orders?¡¯ ¡®Arde explained it, so yes,¡¯ she said. ¡®We¡¯re to make our way North, to Sek Arthem, and report to Fifth Rangers for further training.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s a long trek,¡¯ he said, then his smile vanished and his face took on a serious expression. ¡®Listen, look out for them, alright? Especially Arde. Her mother¡¯s ¡­ Ardeela Erini¡¯s death, was ¡­ harder on him than he shows.¡¯ He paused for a moment. ¡®I know Fenar told you not to use Kevin¡¯s power under any circumstances, but if the situation calls for it, use it. Arde knows you¡¯re a spiritualist, so he won¡¯t mind. I don¡¯t know if Fenar told Hiraken Sala about you. Maybe he did. Timo, well, he probably sees you as a human shaped hindrance, so be patient with him, and definitely don¡¯t let Kevin pull the same shit he did with Master Fenar.¡¯ ¡®What shit?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®You should ask Kevin,¡¯ Toven said, his face torn between a grin and a scowl. ¡®Oh, so good old Fenar told him about it, huh?¡¯ I said. ''What is he talking about Kevin?'' What have you done? Krissy asked. ¡®Nothing. It¡¯s all good. Fenar and I worked it out.¡¯ I said, trying to make my thoughts sound like I was shrugging. ¡®Alright, I don¡¯t want to know anyway,¡¯ Krissy said, sighing, then he turned back to Toven. ¡®I think the issue will be if the team can be patient with me. I won¡¯t be able to keep up with them, not without Kevin¡¯s power.¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re nice and agreeable people. And I told you, use power if you need to,¡¯ Toven said. Krissy just nodded, squinting at Toven''s unusually serious expression. ¡®Do you know something she should know? You¡¯re acting all suspicious again,¡¯ Deni asked him, scowling. ¡®Uh ¡­ well¡­ I¡¯m not sure ¡­¡¯ the man fumbled for words, avoiding his wife¡¯s gaze, trying not to look at Krissy either. ¡®Out with it, Tovi!¡¯ Deni demanded. ¡®I¡¯m not supposed to tell anyone,¡¯ he said, but he quickly surrendered to his wife¡¯s and Krissy¡¯s glares. ¡®Fine. So ¡­ have you seen Kitala Iwani lately?¡¯ ¡®No. Who knows what¡¯s she¡¯s up to,¡¯ Krissy said, shrugging. ¡®What does she have to do with anything?¡¯ ¡®She¡¯s up North. Fenar sent her to Sek Arthem a week ago. To assist Fifth Rangers with something. Chances are you¡¯ll bump into her at some point.¡¯ ¡®Help them with what?¡¯ Deni asked. ¡®Don¡¯t tell me there¡¯s another evil spirit!¡¯ ¡®No, no, it¡¯s something else,¡¯ Toven said, holding his hands up. ¡®And that¡¯s as much as I can tell you. Otherwise the training value of the trip will vanish.¡¯ ¡®So ¡­ Fenar sent Kiwa up north, and he¡¯s arranged for Krissy to go there, too? Why does he want two spiritualists there?¡¯ I asked through Krissy. ¡®You¡¯ll see. Be prepared for anything,¡¯ Toven said. Krissy and I were in agreement: this was suspicious, but Toven refused to say anything more, and even Deni¡¯s nagging failed this time. ¡®You know, I thought Solace elves were hatin¡¯ spiritualists,¡¯ Kenta commented, sounding somewhat worried. ¡®Now they¡¯re wantin¡¯ two of ¡®em to do somethin¡¯? Am I the only one findin¡¯ it strange?¡¯ ¡®Well, traditionally we do despise gods and spirits. But Fenar¡¯s a pragmatist. And he used to be a spiritualist back in Fayr-Sitan,¡¯ Toven said, as if that had explained everything. It didn¡¯t, but that was all we got out of him. Going up North was going to be a long trek ¡ª it would take days, but it meant we¡¯d have plenty of time to figure things out. Perhaps we could interview Fenar¡¯s darling little granddaughter, Hisa. I wasn¡¯t a hundred percent sure, but good old Master Fenar must have told her what was going on. I suspected she had been put into Krissy¡¯s team to keep an eye on her and report to her grandfather. To be honest, I wasn¡¯t overly worried about it ¡ª we still had to participate in the upcoming counter-evil-spirit drills, so I doubted this was a plot to harm Krissy or me in a roundabout way. Maybe it was exactly what it sounded like: Fifth Rangers needing a couple of spiritualists to deal with something. The conversations went on for at least another hour, then fizzled out. It was getting late, and Krissy had to get some rest before the training expedition commenced tomorrow morning. She excused herself, attached her new, very real sword to her belt, and headed back to the barracks. Chapter Forty-five Chapter Forty-five Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was neither nervous nor excited. She stood in front of the cafeteria on the Third Ranger¡¯s training ground, watching the sun rising above the trees, the paved clearings and buildings. Some trainees were already heaving breakfast inside, but she had already eaten, and all she had to do was wait. Krissintha was early, but not by much. Timo appeared first, just on time. The man nodded to her, and that was all he did: not a single word of greeting came from him. Instead, he quickly checked if she had her gear in order. She rolled her eyes as the man went about peeking into her bag, checking her sword, her dagger and her heavy, dark green cloak. Of course everything was in order, but Krissintha didn¡¯t feel like arguing with the man. She wished she could use Kevin¡¯s weird storage power ¡ª Jack¡¯s Room as he called it for some reason ¡ª but she knew she had to carry all her stuff herself, and team leader Tivarra Mor was not only entitled but required to check his team members¡¯ state of readiness. Hiraken Sala and Arde arrived together a few minutes later ¡ª Arde in good spirits, smiling and chatty, Hisa serious and quiet. Timo checked their gear, too, then he took a step back and addressed his team. ¡®Sek Arthem is a good six days trek from here,¡¯ he began. ¡®Our orders are to be there in five, and to report to Fifth Rangers.¡¯ ¡®Alright, so how do we get there on time, Master Timo?¡¯ Arde asked, grinning at him. ¡®This is a test of our endurance and resourcefulness,¡¯ Timo said, then he looked at Krissintha. ¡®We¡¯ll make it there even if it kills us. We¡¯re rangers.¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re nor rangers. Not yet.¡¯ Hisa interjected, then looked at Krissintha. ¡®Will you be able to keep up?¡¯ ¡®Yes,¡¯ Krissintha said, nodding. Hisa didn¡¯t look convinced. Neither did Timo. ¡®She¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ Arde said, looking at the two of them, waving a hand to dismiss their concerns. ¡®She¡¯s human,¡¯ Timo argued. Krissintha wanted to retort, to tell him that she had a spirit¡¯s power at her disposal, and she could do more than just to keep up. But that wasn¡¯t something she could say. Not to Timo or Hisa. Arde looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to respond, and by the look of it contemplating if he should say something more in her defence. But leaving this to Arde to handle wasn¡¯t a good idea, so she said, ¡®I have surprised you before, Timo, I think I can do it again,¡¯ she said, almost succeeding in producing a smile to go with her statement. Timo narrowed his eyes, looking at her. ¡®Very well, do your best and don¡¯t slow us down,¡¯ he said, then looked at each member of his team, one after another. ¡®Until our team is dissolved or I am removed as team leader, you will all address me as ¡°sir¡±.¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissy and the two elves chorused. ¡®Good,¡¯ Timo said. ¡®Well, is it time then for our unceremonious departure, then?¡¯ Arde asked, grinning. *** The team walked the road for a while, passing Gal Themar by, but a few hours into the journey, Timo led them into the forests, saying they¡¯d save some time taking the straight route, even if the human slowed them down somewhat. Trekking along old trails and creeks, navigating by map and compass, wasn¡¯t an easy thing to do. For the first time, Krissintha started not only to understand but to appreciate Toven¡¯s ruthless endurance training. Walking on the uneven terrain with weapons and a heavy bag for days on end ¡­ that took endurance. Timo had chosen a standard patrol formation. Hiraken Sala, being an archer and scout primarily, took the front of the formation, maybe a dozen paces ahead. In the middle were the two swordsmen, Timo and Arde, although Arde also had a bow and arrows, just in case, and by his own admission, he was pretty good with it, too. Krissintha brought up the rear, being the sole sword-brawler ¡ª as Timo had called her ¡ª and she was happy with that position. Timo kept the formation tighter than normal, accounting for Krissintha being slower and not having the kind of eyesight and hearing the elves had. Despite being an insufferably arrogant prick, Timo had done his ¡°homework¡± ¡ª as Kevin had put it ¡ª learning what a human was or wasn¡¯t capable of. It seemed the man was determined to carry out Fenar¡¯s orders successfully no matter what, and his disdain for her had been pushed to the second or even third place in his list of priorities. Krissintha had no problem with it whatsoever. She walked quietly, pacing herself, remaining in hearing distance from the rest of the team. *** The first day of Training Team Twenty-seven¡¯s journey came to an end without incident. Timo had chosen a spot for making camp for the night. The place wasn¡¯t a clearing, just a somewhat larger than usual stretch of mossy ground between trees. Krissintha¡¯s legs ached, but no-one sat down yet, not without the team leader¡¯s permission. So, she waited. Timo was studying his map and consulting his compass. With the sun gone, Krissintha could barely see anything, and she silently bemoaned the inferiority of her human eyes. ¡®About twenty-five miles,¡¯ Timo announced the result of the day, glancing at Krissintha. ¡®Should have been at least thirty, but ¡­¡¯ ¡®It is what it is, sir,¡¯ Arde interrupted before the other could finish the sentence or Krissintha could open her mouth to protest. ¡®Hellspawn Fenar has accounted for it, we¡¯ve accounted for it, you¡¯ve accounted for it, and in all fairness she¡¯s keeping up well.¡¯ Krissintha appreciated Arde¡¯s comments. She also came to the conclusion that Arde had no idea that Hisa was Hellspawn Fenar¡¯s granddaughter ¡ª he wouldn''t have used the nickname in front of her if he did. She glanced over at Hisa, curious if she reacted in any way. Hisa didn¡¯t say anything. She didn¡¯t even look at Arde, she was looking at her ¡ª not glaring, just looking. She stood close enough to Krissintha so she could see her face: the woman looked curious rather than annoyed. Maybe she knew she was a spiritualist, maybe not. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure. Should she try to find out? She wasn¡¯t sure about that either, and she didn¡¯t think asking directly was an option. ¡®Is there something wrong?¡¯ Krissintha asked the woman. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Hisa looked away immediately, looking somewhat embarrassed. ¡®No. I just ¡­ uh ¡­ haven¡¯t met a human before. That¡¯s all,¡¯ she said. ¡®Not many of us in Gal Themar, that¡¯s for sure,¡¯ Krissintha said. Then she thought maybe she could ask whether Hisa or Timo knew about her after all. She looked at the two of them. ¡®So, do you know how I came to be here? Why I¡¯m doing ranger training? Or why Hellspawn Fenar even agreed to train me?¡¯ Hisa just shook her head. Timo, on the other hand, looked up from the map and stepped closer to her. ¡®No. But you¡¯re not here to become a ranger, thankfully, that much I can tell. So, why are you here? Really?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Oh, I wasn¡¯t volunteering to tell you, I just wanted to know if you knew, sir,¡¯ Krissintha said, shrugging. Timo clearly didn¡¯t know anything. Hisa ¡­ well, Krissintha still wasn¡¯t sure about Hisa. It was time to change the subject, so she said, ¡®Are we treating this as being on patrol, or can we set up a small fire, sir? I¡¯m dying to have a cup of tea.¡¯ Timo thought about it for a moment, then sighed and said, ¡®Set up a small fire.¡¯ He turned to Arde and Hisa. ¡®Wood and water.¡¯ ¡®On it, sir,¡¯ Arde said, and the two of them rushed away, leaving their bags behind. Krissintha put her bag down, and picked a place on the ground to dig a small fire-pit, as far from any trees as it was possible. Arde came back with a bunch of broken up tree-branches, and Hisa brought water in her large flask. Krissintha set the wood into the pit, used her ranger-issue tinder-box to kindle the fire, then she produced a folding frame and a small pot from her bag. She set up the frame over the fire, filled the pot with water and put it on the frame. They all sat down around the tiny campfire, each of them taking their cups out of their bags. ¡®Misery, first watch. Arde second, Hisa third, I¡¯m last,¡¯ Timo declared the order of things, and no-one argued with him. The water boiled, and Krissintha produced four tea bags. ¡®Try this,¡¯ she said to the team, and gave one to each of them. Arde poured hot water into his cup and put the tea-bag in, stirring it with a small spoon. Krissintha smiled as she brewed her own tea ¡ª Timo and Hisa were watching them, holding the tea bags in their hands, looking to see where this was going. Arde of course knew Earl Grey already ¡ª Deni had wanted a third taste-tester before mass producing the tea bags, and that task had fallen to Arde. ¡®What are you waiting for?¡¯ Arde asked the other two elves. ¡®You¡¯ll like it.¡¯ ¡®Is this ¡­ that new ¡­ grey tea people are talking about?¡¯ Hisa asked, her voice small and uncertain. ¡®Oh, you¡¯ve heard of it already?¡¯ Arde said. ¡®Yes. This is it.¡¯ ¡®I was told it¡¯s expensive. And limited in quantity,¡¯ Hisa said, finally putting the tea bag into her cup of hot water. ¡®I have a lot of it. We can have it every evening and morning,¡¯ Krissintha offered. ¡®How do you have so much of the grey tea?¡¯ Hisa asked. Krissintha couldn¡¯t help but grin at the woman. ¡®Well, it¡¯s called Earl Grey. And it¡¯s my friends who manufacture it,¡¯ she said, smirking. ¡®And I¡¯m a partner in the business.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re what?¡¯ Hise asked, looking at Krissintha incredulously. Or maybe impressed. ¡®A partner. You know, someone who has percentage ownership of it,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®I know what a partner is, but you¡¯re ¡­¡¯ the woman said. ¡®¡­ human?¡¯ Arde chimed in again before Krissintha could. ¡®Being human isn¡¯t something the trade committee considers a problem. Plenty of humans in Rit Dhamal. They¡¯re all doing business.¡¯ ¡®What I meant was that she¡¯s supposed to be training. How does she have time to do business?¡¯ Hisa said to Arde. ¡®My friends handle most of it. I just ¡­ provided the ideas,¡¯ Krissintha said, shrugging, then she sent a thought to Kevin. It still doesn¡¯t feel right to take the credit for this. Well, we can¡¯t just go around saying the best tea in Solace came from an evil spirit, can we? Kevin replied. ¡®Are you not going to taste it?¡¯ Arde asked, pointing at the cup in Timo¡¯s hand. ¡®Hm,¡¯ was all Timo said, and he took a sip of his tea. His eyebrows rose a little. It wasn¡¯t exactly the reaction Krissintha wanted to see ¡ª the man could have at least said it was nice, but he seemed to like it. Hisa glanced at Timo, then she drank, too. ¡®Hm,¡¯ she said, just as Timo had, but she at least had the appropriate expression of surprised delight on her face. They all finished their drinks. It¡¯s obvious they like it, just look at their faces. I have a lot more of it in Jack¡¯s Room. We shall spread the love to the north. Kevin said, his thoughts sounding more than jolly. That we shall. Krissintha sent a thought back, smiling. ¡®Long trek ahead of us tomorrow,¡¯ Timo announced, while pouring some water from his flask to wash his cup. ¡®Misery, don¡¯t fall asleep while on watch!¡¯ *** Krissintha was bringing up the rear of the formation, just as she had been the day before, but Timo and Hisa were dictating a faster pace this time. Maybe they were doing it on purpose, maybe not, she didn¡¯t know. But she was getting tired, finding it more and more difficult to keep up with the elves. Constantly slaloming around an unending supply of trees was a lot more difficult she had thought it would be. By the afternoon of the second day, she was drawing on Kevin¡¯s power just to be able to keep up with the elves and remain in hearing distance from the rest of the team. The tingling sensation in her legs as her familiar¡¯s power permeated her bones and muscles was pleasant enough, but she was heaving for air as she walked. Kevin did not recommend using his power to aid her lungs as well, partly because of what he called the long term ¡°MP cost¡±, and partly because he thought her lungs could use the exercise. The resulting dichotomy of her legs feeling just fine and her lungs almost aching from overuse wasn¡¯t a new thing, but she had never done this for longer periods of time before. If nothing else, it was a good opportunity to practice and get more used to coordinating and controlling the way she moved while using a spirit¡¯s power. Despite having had only limited opportunities to practice, she was getting the hang of it. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure if normal spiritualists experienced it the same way she did ¡ª Kevin was sort of an evil spirit after all ¡ª but at the very least it felt similar to the few and vague descriptions she had heard from her father and his retainers, before things had gone wrong in Thyssa. Power tingled. Night came. Timo picked a spot to camp, and Krissintha provided more tea bags so the team could have a nice, hot drink to go with their dinner of dried meat and bread. Timo and Hisa were mostly quiet ¡ª they only spoke when discussing the team¡¯s progress and consulting their map. Only Arde was willing to enter into idle conversations with her, mostly about tea or trees. *** The third and forth days passed the same way as the first two: walking, walking, more walking, and not a lot of talking, not even in the evenings. Krissintha was glad she wasn¡¯t going to be a ranger ¡ª going on seemingly endless and boring walks wasn''t something she wanted to do on a regular basis ¡ª and she was beginning to understand why Deni was trying to gently and unobtrusively nudge Toven towards quitting rangering. Well, Deni always seemed have things to do ¡ª the garden, some dressmaking, some housework ¡ª but now the woman was hopeful that their new venture would generate enough money to tempt Toven away from Third Rangers and into the business. The initial popularity and decent sales of Earl Grey made Krissintha hopeful, too. If what Kevin called a ¡°customer base¡± grew to a certain size, it would mean a lot of money. But more than that, the civat-fruits they used came from Thyssa. It was a little taste of home, a tiny bit of nostalgia and longing. She couldn¡¯t help but think about how it could help her with her own goals. Perhaps the tea business could give her a plausible and legitimate way to return to Thyssa in the future, posing as a merchant looking to buy the fruit in bulk. Perhaps something else. A way to search for her brother without rousing suspicion. If he was alive. But all this was for another day. The fifth day started exactly as the previous four days. Timo woke everyone up when the sun was about to rise, and after a quick breakfast and a cup of tea, they were on their way. They weren¡¯t far from Sek Arthem ¡ª according to Timo and his map they would reach Fifth Rangers¡¯ compound outside the city long before nightfall. Kevin complained a little bit about her using too much of the MP-thing for too long, but she was sure the spirit could handle it, whatever it was he needed to handle. She wanted to keep up, and she wanted the team to succeed. Hisa was walking ahead of the team as usual ¡ª even if they hadn¡¯t been in the endless forests of Solace, she wouldn¡¯t have been able to see or hear her. Timo and Arde weren¡¯t too far ahead. It was around midday when one of them whistled a signal. A short, bird-like tune. Possible danger ahead. Chapter Forty-six Chapter Forty-six Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain caught up with Tivarra Mor. The elf was crouching behind a tree, waiting for her. He performed a series of hand signs, almost too fast for her to understand, but she got the gist of it: Timo had sent Arde and Hisa ahead to check the surrounding area. Timo peeked out from behind the tree and pointed ahead. Krissintha looked. Is that ¡­ a body? She asked Kevin, counting on her familiar to see more than just a dark lump on the ground at the third tree down. I have a tentie looking at it, and I think it¡¯s ¡­ uh ¡­ an ork. A dead ork. Kevin said. What¡¯s an ork? Krissintha asked. Uh ¡­ you don¡¯t know orks? I mean you have elves and dwarves here. She looked at the body in the distance again, straining her eyes. The body lay in the shadow of a tree, at least fifteen paces away from where she was, and she struggled to see details. It was large, and it seemed to be covered in blood that was almost black. She couldn¡¯t really tell what kind of clothes it had ¡ª fur, maybe, with metal spikes, and if she wasn¡¯t mistaken, its skin might have been green. Its weapon lay next to it: a giant meat cleaver looking thing, a far cry from the elegant elven swords Krissintha had come to appreciate. A few more hand signs later Timo¡¯s plan was more or less clear to Krissintha: she was to stay and watch out for an ambush, just like Arde and Hisa were watching their areas, and Timo would go check the body. The elf stood up, drawing his sword. He moved slowly and silently, as if he was walking on air, approaching the dead ¡°ork¡±. Krissintha had gone through some stealth-training, but her attempts had not been so successful, and she felt a little jealous. But she had a job to do, so she watched and listened, making sure the forest around her wasn¡¯t hiding any unpleasant surprises. There¡¯s no-one around, at least not in a fifteen pace radius. Kevin informed her. So ¡­ what¡¯s an ork again? She asked. Well, it might not be an ork. It¡¯s just ¡­ the body is huge. And green. Kevin said. So an ork is something huge and green. Krissintha stated rather than asked. Unless it¡¯s an incredibly smallish Hulk, who knows? Kevin not making sense wasn¡¯t an unusual occurrence. A strange, green creature lying dead in the forest was. She leaned out from the cover of the tree, taking a peek at how Timo was faring. The man was already there, poking at the dead thing. Something¡¯s coming, turn back! Kevin warned her. Krissintha slowly turned back around, still crouching, drawing her sword, flicking her eyes left and right. Can¡¯t see anything. She said, feeling a drop of cold sweat rolling down her face, squinting at the trees and shrubs. I¡¯m hearing something. Thirty paces maybe. I¡¯ve got plenty of Mana, be ready! Kevin instructed Krissintha still didn¡¯t see anything except trees, but she whistled a danger signal to let the others know. The reply came immediately, but it wasn¡¯t just the acknowledgment she¡¯d expected. Danger-whistle from the left. It¡¯s Arde I think. Kevin noted. Shit! Krissintha swore, instinctively looking to the left, gripping her sword just a little harder. Hey, calm down, you¡¯re shaking. We can handle it. Kevin said, trying to make his thoughts sound calm and soothing, but she could sense an anticipation of violence from the spirit. Krissintha heard a whistle from the right, too. Hisa? Danger? Then a snapping sound from the front. Whatever was coming, it was close, and it was careless. Krissintha forced herself to breath slower. She drew on Kevin¡¯s power ¡ª she felt the tingling in her legs and her arms as she willed it to permeate her bones and muscles. She wanted to believe she was ready for this, instead she quickly found herself stuck between wanting to flee and wanting to do her part for her team. It was a bad place to be stuck in. Another sound: someone stepping on a twig, loud, close, and more than just careless. Almost as if it had been on purpose. To let her know something was coming. Whatever these green creatures were, they were worse at stealth than she was. She stood up, gripping her sword with both hands, assuming an attack stance, her heart beating faster and faster. Then she heard another whistle, another signal. From the front. A ranger signal. And it was ¡­ Friend? Can you see anything? She asked, her eyes narrowing. Not yet, but that was the friend signal, wasn¡¯t it? Kevin said, sounding as surprised as she was. The low to high chirping whistle was impossible to misinterpret. Then the she heard the same signal from the left. Oh. Not enemies. A ranger is approaching from the front. I can see him now. Timo is coming up from behind with Arde and another ranger. Kevin said, sounding relieved. But Krissintha didn¡¯t let go of the power just yet, maintaining her stance. The unknown ranger came out from behind a tree, sword in hand, the hood of his cloak covering his face with shadows. The cloak wasn¡¯t the same, dark green colour as hers, or anyone¡¯s in Third Rangers. It had a blueish tint to it, not enough to stand out from the dark greenery of the forest, but enough to make it distinct from the cloaks she and her team-mates wore. The man in front of her was from Fifth Rangers. He approached Krissintha slowly, then stopped a few paces in front of her, just as Timo and Arde arrived with another newcomer. Then Hisa arrived with two more. Krissintha finally let go of Kevin¡¯s power and sheathed her sword, looking at the hooded rangers one after the other. ¡®You are Training Team Twenty-seven of Third Rangers, are you not?¡¯ one of them asked, and removed his hood. *** The newcomers ¡ª a team of four men ¡ª gathered the trainees around the dead body. Krissintha could finally get a good look at it. She had never seen something like this before: larger than any man or elf, an inordinate amount of muscles under its green, bloodied skin, and something like small tusks in its open mouth. It wore leather clothes and pieces of armour with small, metal spikes ¡ª not exactly the kind of fashion choice she could get behind. Kevin had recognised it as an ¡°ork¡±, but Krissintha had never seen or heard of creatures like this. Then again, down south in Thyssa people didn¡¯t concern themselves with news from the far north, and the world was a big place, so who knew? Maybe it was an ork, just as the spirit had claimed. The leader of the team from Fifth Rangers addressed the trainees, and Krissintha looked up at the man as he spoke. ¡®I am Gilarev Etan, scout master, second rank, Fifth Rangers, and I am not impressed. You¡¯re loud, you¡¯re slow, and you¡¯re defensive ring should have been spread out more,¡¯ the ranger said, looking at Timo, then Arde, then at Hisa. Then his eyes stopped to linger on Krissintha. She could feel the accusing, disapproving gazes of not only Gilarev Etan¡¯s team, but of her own team-mates as well. ¡®Sorry, sir,¡¯ she said, looking down at the ground. ¡®Well, that aside, we¡¯ve been waiting for you,¡¯ the ranger said, then leaned closer to Krissintha. ¡®Master Fenirig Arte had sent a letter. I take it you are Misery? The spiritualist?¡¯ ¡®Yes, but ¡­ that¡¯s supposed to be a secret, sir,¡¯ Krissintha said, flinching. ¡®Just what we need,¡¯ Gilarev Etan said. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡®Sorry, sir,¡¯ Krissintha apologised again, not sure why she felt like she had to. ¡®Oh, I didn¡¯t mean it like that. Spiritualists really are what we need,¡¯ the man said, his face softening a bit as Krissintha lifted her head to look at him again. ¡®Spiritualists? What do you mean, sir?¡¯ Timo asked, looking like a lost little boy. ¡®Team leader Tivarra Mor, you don¡¯t know your own team?¡¯ Gilarev Etan asked, raising his eyebrows. The man and his rangers were shaking their heads while Krissintha¡¯s own team-mates stared at her. Well, Timo and Hisa stared, Arde tried to smile, but he just managed to look like a kid who got caught lying to his parents. ¡®You ¡­ knew?¡¯ Timo asked Arde, looking at him, an expression of dismay settling on his face. ¡®Yes, sir, I did,¡¯ Arde admitted. ¡®How much did Fenirig Arte tell you?¡¯ Gilarev Etan asked. ¡®Nothing about her being a spiritualist,¡¯ Timo answered, gritting his teeth in anger, or perhaps frustration ¡ª it was hard for Krissintha to tell. ¡®I see. His letter said your orders would be to join Fifth Rangers for training, correct?¡¯ Gilarev Etan asked. ¡®That¡¯s correct, sir,¡¯ Timo said. ¡®Did Master Fenirig Arte say anything else to you?¡¯ he asked. ¡®No, sir,¡¯ Timo said. Gilarev Etan muttered something about a ¡°certain overly secretive bastard¡±, then he pointed at the slain creature on the ground. ¡®That¡¯s a barbarian marauder. We killed him this morning. We are hoping some of his cohorts will come looking for him.¡¯ ¡®And ¡­ we have walked into the ambush you set,¡¯ Timo said with a sigh, looking embarrassed. ¡®Barbarians?¡¯ Hisa asked. ¡®Yes, barbarians,¡¯ the ranger said. ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ not good.¡¯ Arde shook his head. ¡®Not good doesn¡¯t begin to describe it,¡¯ Gilarev Etan said. ¡®It¡¯s a large scale raid, probably hundreds of them. Either from Jotund or the Mainlands, we don¡¯t know. But, my money is on the Mainlands. Jotund knows better after last time, and they don¡¯t have spiritualists as far as we know. These raiders do, and this is the wonderful state of our affairs.¡¯ ¡®So ¡­ our training is ¡­¡¯ Timo said, but Gilarev Eton didn¡¯t let him finish the sentence. ¡®Your training was to escort the spiritualist to us,¡¯ the ranger said. ¡®Sir, I ¡­ she¡¯s human. I sparred with her, there is no way ¡­¡¯ Timo protested rather vehemently. Gilarev Etan lifted a hand to stop him, then looked Krissintha up and down. ¡®No. Humans are not ranger material, I¡¯ll give you that,¡¯ he said to Timo. ¡®But Fenirig Arte vouched for her, and he isn¡¯t one to lie about such things. If I can believe his letter, she could kill all of us here and we wouldn¡¯t be able to do a thing, human or not.¡¯ The ranger looked at Krissintha. ¡®Isn¡¯t that right, Misery?¡¯ Seven elves, seven tentacles. I could do it. They wouldn¡¯t know what hit them. Kevin chimed in. Kevin! Krissintha hissed a thought at him. Sorry. Just ¡­ hypothetically speaking. Kevin said. Krissintha was sure if spirits could shrug, Kevin would be doing it now. She breathed out slow and long, then said, ¡®Yes, sir.¡¯ ¡®Thought so,¡¯ the ranger said. ¡®And just to clarify, you did kill that evil spirit down south, didn¡¯t you?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®Well, my familiar did.¡¯ Timo and Hisa were both gawking at Krissintha, eyes wide, mouths hung open, then they looked at Arde and scowled at him with everything they got. ¡®Oh come on, it was a secret,¡¯ Arde protested, lifting his hands defensively. ¡®I only know about it because my ¡­ my mother died there, you know. And she came with Master Toven to ¡­ bring her ashes. Of course I asked who she was.¡¯ ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯ Gilarev Etan asked Arde. ¡®Ardeela Erto, sir,¡¯ he answered. ¡®Oh, your mother was ¡­ Ardeela Erini?¡¯ the man asked. ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ ¡®I sparred with her once. She was a good ranger. Good swordsman.¡¯ Gilarev Etan said, and then bowed his head to Arde, together with the members of his team. ¡®Please accept our condolences.¡¯ ¡®Thank you, sir,¡¯ Arde said, also bowing his head. ¡®Now, back to business,¡¯ Gilarev Etan announced, looking at the dead creature on the ground, then he turned to Timo. ¡®We¡¯re still waiting for some barbarians here, so, team leader Tivarra Mor, you are to escort the spiritualist to an outpost. It¡¯s a foresters¡¯ hut, about ten miles to the east. One of Master Sivaren Tal¡¯s aides is there. His name is Sivaren Rols, no relation. He is coordinating the teams in the area. Another spiritualist is supposed to be there, or somewhere around. I was told you know her.¡¯ ¡®Kitala Iwani?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®Yes, Kitala Iwani,¡¯ the man said, almost sneering. ¡®She¡¯s a strange one, even for someone from Fayr-Sitan. You and your team are to report to Aide Sivaren Rols, and do what he tells you to do.¡¯ ¡®Is that it? We¡¯re just to escort the human?¡¯ Timo asked, sounding offended. ¡®Unfortunately there are plenty of barbarians and not enough rangers, so I imagine you¡¯ll get to do more. It will be good training, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re looking for, provided you live.¡¯ It looked like Timo wanted to say something more, but Gilarev Etan didn¡¯t let him. ¡®Let¡¯s not waste time. Proceed to the outpost. Dismissed.¡¯ And now we know why Hellspawn Fenar has sent us here, don¡¯t we? Kevin said. Damn. Krissintha thought, looking at the dead barbarian one more time before leaving for the outpost. *** Krissintha cursed Fenirig Arte silently, and cursed that ranger, Gilarev Etan even more. It had never occurred to her that anyone would learn about her being a spiritualist before the upcoming counter-spirit exercises, but here she was, fretting over what her team-mates were thinking of her now. Did they hate her? She knew Arde didn¡¯t, in fact she would even risk calling him a friend. But Timo and Hisa? She wasn¡¯t sure. Krissintha took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that it didn¡¯t matter. As the team left the blue-caped rangers behind, Krissintha heard Hisa talking to Timo. From what she could hear, it was about the aide they were going to see. She heard Master Fenar¡¯s name, too. The aide. And Master Fenar. A plan began to form in her mind. She rushed past Arde to catch up with Timo and Hisa. The two elves stopped to wait for her, and they both turned to face her as she reached them, their cold glares ¡ª especially Timo¡¯s ¡ª boring into her. ¡®Is there anything you need, or something you want to say to us, perhaps?¡¯ Timo asked immediately, Hisa nodding enthusiastically. Krissintha was sure the two elves were waiting for an explanation. Well, if they thought she was here to apologise for being a spiritualist, they were wrong: let them think of her whatever they wanted to think. She turned to Hisa. ¡®Hisa, I heard you saying something about this aide, Sivaren ¡­ uh ¡­ Rols and Master Fenar, but I didn¡¯t catch all of it,¡¯ Krissintha said, then pointed at one of her own ears. ¡®You know, human hearing. Not as good as yours.¡¯ Timo scowled, Hisa just blinked at her ¡ª she wasn¡¯t expecting this kind of questioning, was she? ¡®You don¡¯t have to answer,¡¯ Timo said to her, still glowering at Krissintha, not even trying to hide his irritation. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I was just saying that Master Fenirig Arte and Aide Sivaren Rols ¡­ don¡¯t get along.¡¯ Hisa answered anyway, looking confused. ¡®How so?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®I¡¯m not sure, I mean ¡­ it¡¯s just something I¡¯ve heard,¡¯ she said, her eyes flicking left and right, trying to avoid Krissintha¡¯s eyes. Hisa wasn¡¯t at all like her grandfather, Krissintha concluded; she was cute and agreeable ¡ª Krissintha would have never been able to tell the the young woman and the Hellspawn were related. Hisa finally looked at her and said, ¡®They both used to be with First Rangers. They had never got along. That¡¯s all I know.¡¯ ¡®I see, that¡¯s good to know,¡¯ Krissintha said, nodding, plans taking shape in her head. ¡®Uh, can I ask you ¡­¡¯ Hisa began to say, but then hesitated. ¡®About being a spiritualist?¡¯ Krissintha offered. Hisa nodded sheepishly, and Krissintha nodded back to her. ¡®Did you really kill the evil spirit?¡¯ she asked. ¡®My familiar did. As I said before,¡¯ Krissintha answered. ¡®And what does it feel like to ¡­¡¯ she started asking another question, but Timo cut her short. ¡®That¡¯s enough for now, we¡¯re on a schedule,¡¯ he rumbled. ¡®Barbarians are raiding our homes. Back to formation and march!¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ Hisa snapped to attention. ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissintha said, and fell back to the rear behind a puzzled looking Arde. *** Krissintha trudged along the narrow trail between the trees ¡ª despite the basic tracking training she¡¯d received, she barely recognised it as a trail, and she was sure she¡¯d get lost immediately if she lost sight of Arde, who was marching some seven or eight paces in front of her. She used power to keep pace with him, making sure he was always in sight, but her mind was elsewhere. I can tell what you¡¯re thinking, Krissy. Kevin¡¯s thoughts echoed in Krissintha¡¯s mind. Yeah? What am I thinking? She asked. You¡¯re thinking about this aide. You want to start with him, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s why you asked Hisa. Kevin guessed correctly. Right. So? Do you think it''s too ... opportunistic? She asked, scowling. I ¡­ have no objections, I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. But do you really want to use Fenar against him? What about Hisa? Kevin said. What about Hisa? Krissintha asked back. I don¡¯t know. I would have thought being arrogant and looking down on everyone would be in her genes. Kevin said. Jeens? What are those? Krissintha asked, knowing this was one of Kevin¡¯s impossible to understand spirit-weirdnesses. Nevermind that, what¡¯s your take on her? He asked. She seems nice. I¡¯m not worried about her. And I don¡¯t care about Timo hating me, in case you were wondering. I¡¯m worried about something else. Krissintha said. The orks? Well, whatever they are, do you think we can handle them? I won¡¯t know for sure until we come across a live one, but I think we can. I wonder if their souls are green, too. Kevin said. Oh, you horrible, evil spirit! You¡¯re thinking about eating them, aren¡¯t you? Krissintha asked, not surprised at all. Well, I mean if we¡¯re to fight them anyway, I see no reason why I couldn¡¯t have nibble. Kevin said excitedly. They have spiritualists. We¡¯ll have to be careful. Krissintha said. Right. Careful. But ¡­ their familiars will have some Black Essence with them, so ¡­ you know, I want to get some of it. That ¡­ doesn¡¯t sound good. Krissintha said, already dreading the no doubt fast approaching ¡°spirit fuckery¡±, as Fenirig Arte usually called anything to do with spirits. *** The team had been walking for three hours ¡ª the sun was was on the way down, and the forest was getting darker with every passing minute. Arde stopped, and so did Krissintha. She didn¡¯t hear any whistling, Arde didn¡¯t signal anything with his hands either. He just stopped. ¡®What is it?¡¯ Krissintha asked. But before Arde could say anything, Timo and Hisa appeared from behind a tree in the company of a hooded ranger. Deju vu, huh? Kevin said. ¡®I think we¡¯ve arrived,¡¯ Krissintha muttered. Chapter Forty-seven Chapter Forty-seven Being manipulated or maneuvered into doing someone else¡¯s bidding seemed to have become a rather frequent event in my life as a spirit. Well, it was what it was, and at least this time Krissy and I were in agreement that we wanted to help the elves. Unlike a certain godling, the pretty-pointy-ears had been good to us, even Fenar, in his own, unique way. But I had another reason to be excited about this upcoming confrontation with the so called ¡°barbarian marauders¡±. No, it wasn¡¯t the fact that they looked like orks, although I couldn¡¯t deny it was a factor. It was the news that they had spiritualists: it meant they¡¯d have those little, Black Essence cubes. I really wanted to get my grabby little tentacles on at least one. I was sure I could handle a few of the greenskins ¡ª a soul was a soul, and I could just yank it out of the body and eat them, ork or not. But Krissy? She had been training hard, becoming a decent fighter at least by my standards, but she was yet to see real combat. Sparring with Timo, or getting the hell beaten out of her by Fenar was one thing, standing up to a creature three times her size and made of muscle, was another. I had every intention to protect Krissy of course, but I had to find a balance between protecting her and letting her handle things herself. For training purposes. Well, there were a couple of flies in the spiritual ointment, unfortunately, such as the issue of enemy spiritualists. I was nowhere near finished with my new, bulletproof disguise, so I only had the old one to rely on. I had got lucky with Sivera¡¯s spiritualist ¡ª they had been fooled, just barely, and they had been looking at me funny. I had been ¡­ haphazard in almost everything I¡¯d been doing up to now, improvising most of the time. Things had worked out so far, more or less, but I needed to start thinking ahead, to plan ahead and foresee problems before they arose. Hm. Lucky for me, I had a host who was better than me at this. Actually, no, not a host. A friend, or a partner. Except, said partner and her team were currently busy, listening to the aide to the master of Fifth Rangers, and I didn¡¯t want to interrupt. *** The forester¡¯s hut was the first building I¡¯d seen built entirely out of wood. It was strange, now that I thought about it ¡ª given how much the elves liked their trees, I would have imagined they¡¯d use wood to build all their dwellings. Instead, every single house I¡¯d seen so far had been made of stone, or large bricks, or something. Except for this hut in the middle of the small clearing. Was it perhaps their love of trees that kept them from using wood as building material? I wasn¡¯t sure, but this wasn¡¯t the time to ask. The team stood in front of the aide ¡ª Sivaren Rols if memory served. He sat on a chair, all his papers and things laid out on a crate in the absence of a table or desk. Three rangers stood behind him, leaning against the wall, hands on the hilts of their swords. They were probably guards, in case the human spiritualist tried something. Well, if they had met Kitala Iwani, she might have given them a reason to expect some misbehaving. The aide was a bored looking elf, with a hint of mild irritation showing on his handsome face. The way he was looking at the team was the way I would have expected a clerk at the local council, or a bank, or the DVLA, looking at a customer, wondering why the hell they were there in person instead of doing everything online. Was this guy really a high ranking officer? The man studied our little trainee-troupe for a few moments, then started talking, looking at no-one in particular. ¡®So, one more spiritualist, no doubt acquired in a dubious manner. And three trainees,¡¯ he stated rather then asked, looking at his men. ¡®This is it, sir,¡¯ one of the rangers behind him replied. ¡®I¡¯ll never understand that yob,¡¯ the aide muttered, then looked up and fixed his eyes on Krissy. ¡®Misery, correct?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®You know, your friend ¡­ what was her name ¡­¡¯ the aide said. ¡®Kitala Iwani,¡¯ the same ranger offered him the name. ¡®Yes. Kitala Iwani. She said we shouldn¡¯t piss off your familiar under any circumstances, but refused to explain why. So ¡­ why? Is there going to be problem?¡¯ the aide asked. ¡®Uh ¡­ no, sir, I don¡¯t know why Kiwa said that,¡¯ Krissy lied. ¡®My familiar is as reliable as any. Never had a problem.¡¯ ¡®Alright then, let¡¯s not waste time,¡¯ he said, then called one of the three, blue caped rangers forward. ¡®Dimal, take them to the coast and bring them up to speed on the way, then leave them with Sini¡¯s team.¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ one of the three rangers said, stepping forward. The aide looked at Timo and said, ¡®Dismissed.¡¯ ¡®Krissy, this is your chance. Do it!¡¯ I urged her before we had to leave. ¡®Sir,¡¯ Krissy addressed the aide before the ranger could lead us out of the hut. ¡®What is it?¡¯ the man asked, looking at her with all the irritation in the world suddenly plastered on his face. Krissy rummaged through her bag, pulled a small box from it and put it on the crate before the man. He stared at it and asked, ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯ ¡®So ¡­ Master Fenar asked me to give this to you, sir. It¡¯s a gift,¡¯ Krissy said, putting on a mask of pure innocence. Hisa nearly flinched, Arde seemed to be fighting a snort back, and Timo just stared wide eyed at the scene. I was simply smiling on the inside. This was a good marketing strategy as far as I was concerned: the man was a high ranking officer, and if he liked the tea I was sure he¡¯d share it with his friends, hopefully also high ranking officers. And why wouldn¡¯t he like it? So far everyone did. ¡®A gift, huh? From the old git? That¡¯s a first,¡¯ the man said, eying the box suspiciously. ¡®What is it? Smells like ¡­ tea of some kind. Is he trying to poison me?¡¯ I hadn¡¯t expected this kind of reaction ¡ª it made me wonder just how much the man and Fenar hated each other. But I had faith in Krissy, and she didn¡¯t disappoint. ¡®Oh, I don¡¯t think so, sir,¡¯ Krissy said, then stepped forward and leaned closer to the man. ¡®Just between you and me, sir, I think Master Fenar wanted to gloat that he drinks better tea than you. Well, human ears aren¡¯t as keen as elves¡¯, but I heard him mumbling something like that. It¡¯s a good tea, though, that much is true.¡¯ ¡®Is that so?¡¯ the man scoffed. ¡®And he got the human spiritualist to deliver it? Oh, the incorrigible bastard! ¡®It¡¯s Master Fenar we¡¯re talking about,¡¯ Krissy said, giving the man an intentionally feeble smile. ¡®I¡¯m sure you know how he is sir, and I¡¯m just the messenger.¡¯ The man sighed, took the box and said, ¡®Fine, whatever. If you make it back in one piece then tell him ¡°thanks for the gift and sod off¡±.¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Krissy said, smiling at the man. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡®Dismissed,¡¯ the aide said once again, looking happy about seeing us leave this time. *** ¡®Listen up, trainees! The situation isn¡¯t good.¡¯ the ranger, Dimal, began the explanation without any preamble as soon as we exited the hut. ¡®The barbarians showed up almost two weeks ago, and there¡¯s a lot of them. This might be the largest raid on Solace soil in recent decades. We estimate their numbers to be between a hundred and hundred and fifty on land, and who knows how many more on their ships. The raiding parties aren¡¯t big, six to fifteen each, from what we can tell. We¡¯ve got the greens, humans, even some elves. They aren¡¯t particularly stealthy, but as I said, there¡¯s a lot of them, their area of activity is large and go deeper inland then ever before ¡ª they¡¯ve raided a village almost thirty miles from the coast just yesterday. Not easy to track them even with help from Third and Sevenths Rangers.¡¯ ¡®There are others from Third Rangers?¡¯ Timo asked. ¡®We haven¡¯t been told.¡¯ ¡®Of course you haven¡¯t,¡¯ Dimal scowled. ¡®The top doesn¡¯t want the news to spread yet. But yes, at least ten teams from Third Rangers and another fifteen from Seventh.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ Timo said. ¡®Even so, the enemy has us spread too thin,¡¯ Dimal continued. ¡®We have teams tracking enemy raiding parties, we have teams evacuating and guarding potential targets, we have teams searching along the coastline to find where the enemy ships are picking up raiders along with our stolen citizens. The navy is also looking for their ships, but haven¡¯t found them yet. Based on past experiences, we think they are out on open sea, and come to the coast at set intervals, to predetermined points, and pick up raiders and captives.¡¯ ¡®They kidnap people?¡¯ Krissy asked, a dark expression settling on her face. ¡®Yes. Elven slaves are their favourites,¡¯ Dimal said, his eyes sparkling with anger. ¡®I don¡¯t know if the Hellspawn is a madman or a genius, but spiritualists are what we need for this.¡¯ ¡®How many spiritualists did the enemy bring?¡¯ Timo asked. ¡®Our teams have encountered two. Separate raiding parties. There were casualties,¡¯ the man said. ¡®We believe there are more of them, likely on the ships. Ships are crucial to them and need protecting. If we manage to take out their ships, they¡¯ll be stuck here and we¡¯ll hunt them down.¡¯ ¡®Makes sense,¡¯ Timo agreed. Dimal looked Krissy in the eyes, scowling, then said, ¡®No offence, but you¡¯re human. Can you take a barbarian spiritualist on if it comes to that?¡¯ ¡®I can,¡¯ Krissy said without hesitation, the same anger I was seeing in the ranger¡¯s eyes lighting up in hers. I wasn¡¯t surprised ¡ª she had almost been sold into slavery once. I myself felt angered by the news of elven civilians being taken. But Krissy? She must have been taking this personally. But that was fine. She ¡ª we ¡ª could handle a spiritualist or two, I was sure of it. The thing that surprised me, though, was the mention of a Solace navy. I mean ¡­ it made sense: this was an island nation, but this was the first I¡¯d heard of their navy. I wondered what elven ships looked like. I hoped they weren¡¯t anything like the ill fated Island Queen. ¡®Good,¡¯ the man said. ¡®Because we¡¯re going to the coast to join the teams looking for the enemy¡¯s pickup point or points. If there¡¯s any place where we¡¯ll run into spiritualists, it will be those locations. Any questions?¡¯ No-one said anything, the trainiees just nodded grimly. Dimal adjusted his bag, tapped the hilt of his sword, and said, ''Let¡¯s get going.¡¯ *** Dimal dictated a pace much faster than Timo had on the way here from Gal Themal. There was a sense of urgency now, one that hadn¡¯t been there before. If the situation was as bad as Dimal had described it, then I didn¡¯t understand Fenar ¡ª he should have told us what was going on, and make us ride on horses to get here as soon as possible. I mean, this was kind of serious, wasn¡¯t it? Elven lives were at stake, so secrecy be damned, right? I could be wrong, but my best guess was that he had been worried Krissy and I would refuse to help. She wasn¡¯t an official ranger trainee ¡ª more like a personal pet-project of Fenar ¡ª and our deal with him didn¡¯t include hunting down ork pirates. He had underestimated us, hadn¡¯t he? On the other hand, he had sent Kiwa ahead, so I wasn¡¯t sure if I could accuse the man of not taking this affair seriously. It also made me wonder what he could have offered Kiwa to take part in ¡°Operation Screw the Ork Marauders¡±. Krissy was using quite a bit of my Mana to keep up with the rangers, bringing up the rear as usual. I didn¡¯t mind ¡ª my Essence collection was fast enough to keep the pool full. We were going north-east ¡ª according to Timo¡¯s compass ¡ª and Dimal assured us we¡¯d leave the forest behind soon. It was time for me to discuss a few things with Krissy. ¡®Krissy, listen, there are few issues,¡¯ I said to her. Of course there are. Her thoughts came to me, exasperated already. ¡®Well, the thing is, I do have my old spirit-costume, but it¡¯s not great. I¡¯m making a better one, but it¡¯s not ready, and I don¡¯t have enough space in my Spirit-Room to store it anyway.¡¯ Then just ¡­ make the whatever-room larger. Krissy said, shrugging. ¡®I can¡¯t. I¡¯d have to level and grow my body. I can¡¯t expand anything at the moment. Not the rooms, not the pools, not anything.¡¯ I have no idea what all this means ¡­ except that enemy familiars are going to go into a frenzy when they see you. Is that what you¡¯re saying? ¡®There is a chance for that. But that¡¯s not the only problem,¡¯ I said. Of course not. What else? Krissy sent her thoughts, groaning out loud like like my mother used to when she had to clean up after my teenage self for the hundredths time that day. Hisa and Arde had heard her ¡ª they slowed down and fell in on either sides of her. Timo was further ahead, marching relentlessly, closer to Dimal who was leading the way. The had probably heard her, too, but neither of them deemed it necessary to investigate, and they kept going forward, almost jogging. ¡®You alright?¡¯ Arde asked. ¡®Yeah, fine, just having a conversation with my familiar. He¡¯s giving me a headache,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®And they are the next problem,¡¯ I said to Krissy as the two elves looked at her with their eyebrows raised. They are? Krissy asked. ¡®Yeah. I don¡¯t want them to see me eating souls and familiars. Well, they won¡¯t see it, but you know, if an ork or an elf just drops dead for no apparent reason, that might look suspicious.¡¯ Hm. That¡¯s a good point. I mean, Arde knows you¡¯re weird, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready to deal with questions like ¡°why your familiar is an evil spirit¡±. ¡®Oi, I¡¯m not that weird. But yes, that¡¯s exactly the problem. So. Suggestions?¡¯ Krissy fell into silent thought, probably pondering my request. Or cursing me. ¡®Misery?¡¯ Arde asked, looking ¡­ concerned. ¡®Oh, nothing. My familiar is just ¡­ being an evil spirit again. I swear one day he¡¯ll start eating souls,¡¯ Krissy said, sighing. Arde and Hisa looked at each other, confused. Or worried. Or both. ¡®Krissy? What the hell?¡¯ I asked, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. What do you mean? You are an evil spirit. Sooner or later they¡¯ll see you do something evil. Might as well start easing them into it. I¡¯d seen my father do this. It works. Krissy said with a mental shrug. ¡®Oh. The ¡­ uh ¡­ hiding in plain sight thing? Is that it?¡¯ I asked, realising this might not be such a bad idea. Something like that. Krissy said. ¡®Your familiar speaks to you?¡¯ Hisa asked. ¡®I thought only monks talk to spirits.¡¯ ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m something like a monk,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®And Kevin isn¡¯t a regular familiar. He¡¯s weird, but more powerful than most.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m not that weird,¡¯ I protested, but Krissy just smiled and said, ¡®Yes, you are.¡¯ ¡®Are you talking to the spirit now?¡¯ Arde asked. ¡®I am,¡¯ she said, then she paused for a moment, and went ahead and asked, ¡®Do you ¡­ want to see one of the tricks he does?¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ yes?¡¯ Arde said cautiously. Hisa nodded, too, slowly, probably not knowing what to expect. Hell, I didn¡¯t know what to expect. ¡®Can you get me the mask, Kevin?¡¯ Krissy said. Oh. The mask. I had to admit, that was a harmless enough thing, probably a good way to ¡°ease¡± the elves into accepting me as not quite an evil spirit, just bordering on one ¡ª harmless to them, deadly to enemies. Even after spending half a year among the elves, I still couldn¡¯t tell for certain if they hated spirits or not. I knew they vehemently opposed the gods establishing shrines on their land, thus avoiding falling under their influence. Based on what I knew about the gods, the elves had a point. On the other hand, they seemed to understand that spirits were ¡­ well, people, or individuals beings, and they didn¡¯t seem to outright hate our kind. As evidenced by the fact that Fenar had indeed enlisted Krissy and Kiwa to help. In light of this, Krissy¡¯s plan had a certain appeal, and I hoped she knew what she was doing, and that whatever reaction she was predicting would be the one we¡¯d be getting. I brought the mask out from Jack¡¯s Room; it appeared in front of Krissy, and she reached out to grab it. I made up a small blob of spirit-glue, slapped the goo onto the mask, and when Krissy put it against her face it stayed there. ¡®What do you think?¡¯ Krissy asked, smiling under the mask she was now wearing, no doubt excited about implementing her plan. ¡®That¡¯s a creepy mask,¡¯ Arde commented. ¡®It¡¯s a ¡­ misery mask. For theater actors, isn¡¯t it?'' Hisa noted. ''Is this why you¡¯re called ¡­ Misery?¡¯ ¡®It is,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®Nice trick. I didn¡¯t know spirits could do something like this,¡¯ Arde said. ¡®Oh, no, regular spirits can¡¯t. Mine can,¡¯ Krissy said, puffing her chest out with pride I hoped was real and not just an act. ¡®He can do some useful things, too.¡¯ ¡®Oi, are you saying this isn¡¯t useful?¡¯ I demanded. ¡®How would you like to speak with my familiar?¡¯ Krissy asked, ignoring me completely. And my metaphorical jaw dropped. Chapter Forty-eight Chapter Forty-eight I wanted to gulp ¡ª Krissy was taking this plan of hers quite far quite fast, wasn¡¯t she? ¡®Krissy? Are you serious?¡¯ I demanded immediately, worried about where this may lead. I am. Do you have a better way to sell yourself as a friendly, invisible tentacle-critter? She asked. ¡®Critter? I used to be ¡­ I know, I know, don¡¯t get offended now, just do the thing you did with Quenta and Tommi! ¡®Do you even know how painful it will be to undo it?¡¯ I asked. To them? ¡®To me!¡¯ You can handle some pain, no? She sent the thought, shrugging. ¡®Well, I can, I just don¡¯t want to,¡¯ I said, wishing she had a little more empathy and consider my plight, but then I started thinking. Yes, ripping the threads out of my comm-node would be as pleasant as a chainsaw to the guts. I¡¯d done it before, most recently with Akela, Kenta and Tommy, before leaving Gal Themar. The primary node would grow back and fix itself in a day, the secondary node would need some work. But the benefits of being able to speak with Arde and Hisa certainly outweighed the pain, especially in our current circumstance. The elven rangers were an efficient, well organised military ¡ª maybe not even regular military but something like special forces. But what they lacked was long distance communication ¡ª I was sure someone at some point in the future would discover radio waves, but by the look of it, it would take some time for this world to get there, and I wasn¡¯t a scientist or engineer, so no help from me there. The rangers relied on runners carrying messages, and marks left on trees. It was, well, slow. Having ¡­ let¡¯s say four or five teams, each team having one ranger connected to my comm-node, they could pass messages between the teams instantly ¡ª provided none of them ventured further than about three kilometers from me, because currently my threads refused to stretch longer than that. I wasn¡¯t sure if this was what Krissy had in mind, or if she just wanted to show off her familiar, but I was beginning to like the idea. Finding orks and letting everyone know quickly was the desirable outcome of our expedition, so I took a deep mental breath. ¡®Are they alright with this?¡¯ I asked Krissy. Arde and Hisa were looking at each other as they walked side by side with Krissy, dodging trees, roots and rocks. They seemed intrigued by the idea, but I could tell they weren¡¯t a hundred percent convinced about talking to a spirit. ¡®So?¡¯ Krissy asked them. ¡®Do you want to?¡¯ ¡®Krissy, tell Hisa and Arde that it¡¯s a useful feature, and there would be no strings attached if they agree to ¡­ attach my strings,¡¯ I said to Krissy, pun absolutely intended. What? Krissy asked, not understanding. I explained my thoughts to her, about long distance communication, and asked her to tell them that we weren¡¯t looking to gain anything by it other than to ensure the success of our mission. As it turned out I had been right: Krissy just wanted to get the guys to warm up to me, and hadn¡¯t thought of the communication issue. In all fairness, it should have occurred to me sooner, considering how glaringly obvious it was. Well, I¡¯d been called dumb before. Arde and Hisa listened to the idea ¡ª they mulled it over as we marched, and agreed that being able to pass messages that fast would be an advantage. But they didn¡¯t want to be the ones to make a decision ¡ª no surprise there, they were only trainees ¡ª so they stopped and invited Dimal and Timo for a discussion. Krissy explained to them how it worked, mostly repeating and rephrasing my words. Timo was instantly terrified of the idea, but to my surprise, Dimal looked like he was seriously considering it. In the end the decision was left to Dimal, as the only full fledged ranger in our midst. ¡®I¡¯m sure it works, you wouldn¡¯t be offering otherwise,¡¯ Dimal said, not doubting my ability to do exactly as advertised. ¡®What¡¯s the catch? Doesn¡¯t your patron god have enough shrines already?¡¯ I snorted. Unfortunately only Krissy could hear it. Or maybe fortunately. ¡®We¡¯re not interested in shrines, sir,¡¯ Krissy said to the ranger. ¡®Unusual,¡¯ the man said. ¡®It is, but we have our Bureau. Besides, Master Fenar has personally discussed this with out patron god,¡¯ Krissy lied with the proficiency I¡¯d come to expect from her. ¡®We¡¯ve already got what we wanted. Not a shrine. Something else.¡¯ ¡®Oh? Fenar is ¡­ talking to gods? Again?¡¯ Dimal asked, looking nonplussed. Again? I was as surprised as the elf ¡ª I didn¡¯t know the scar-faced hellspawn used to talk to gods. Was this well known to the elves? Then I remembered someone mentioning that Fenar and his wife were so called ¡°First Wave Settlers¡±. The picture that was coming together in my mind was that Fenar used to be a spiritualist, back in the elf homeland, Fayr-Sitan. Then something happened that broke their trust in gods and spirits, and Fenar had been among those who had decided to leave it all behind and settle here. Maybe he used to be monk ¡ª he had instantly known how to send his thoughts to me, and Dimal had just claimed he used to talk to gods. Neither I nor Krissy had ever asked why the some of the elves had decided to leave Fayr-Sitan behind, migrating to this island and becoming the Solace elves they were to day. Perhaps we should have, but we¡¯d been busy. ¡®Well, it was a short conversation, filled with obscenities and then a mutual understanding that there would be no shrines in Solace,¡¯ Krissy said, doing an excellent job of sounding like someone who had witnessed the imaginary meeting. Krissy was really good at this. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡®So what is it you and your familiar are getting out of helping Third Rangers and Fenar?¡¯ Dimal asked. ¡®That¡¯s between us and Fenar,¡¯ Krissy said, sneering under her mask. ¡®It¡¯s a personal matter for me, nothing noteworthy.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ Dimal said, then pointed at her face. ¡®Why the mask?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s creepy, isn¡¯t it, sir?¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®A little. Looks like one of those theater masks from the Mainlands,¡¯ Dimal said. ¡®That¡¯s exactly what it is, sir. Just ¡­ a tradition of the Bureau,¡¯ she said. ¡®Shall I take it off?¡¯ ¡®No. Keep it on. Makes you easily identifiable, even from a distance,¡¯ Dimal said, then fell silent for a few seconds, probably mulling things over in his mind. The other three trainees watched him think ¡ª Hisa and Arde fidgeting in their uneasy anticipation, and Timo with disbelief wrinkling his face. Then Dimal said, ¡®Alright. So ¡­ how is this going to work?¡¯ ¡®Sir,¡¯ Timo said, stepping forward to protest immediately, but the ranger lifted a hand to stop him, giving him a stern look, and said, ¡®And advantage is an advantage.¡¯ ¡®What if she¡¯s lying?¡¯ Timo pressed the matter. ¡®Hellspawn Fenar vouched for her, didn¡¯t he?¡¯ he said, turning to look at Krissy. ¡®You can accuse the man of many things, but he¡¯s neither a fool nor a liar.¡¯ And that was the end of the discussion ¡ª Timo stepped back, shaking his head in disapproval, but an order was an order, and he had no choice. Hisa and Arde were ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. Cautiously optimistic, perhaps? ¡®Whatever it is your familiar will do, it will do it to me first,¡¯ Dimal said. ¡®If it works and if it¡¯s safe, then the others.¡¯ *** Is this thing on? Can you hear me? Arde asked, his thoughts clear in my mind, sounding, or rather feeling similar to his actual voice. It¡¯s like you¡¯re both next to me and a mile away at the same time. Hisa replied to him, definitely awestruck. This is a bad idea. Timo grumbled. It¡¯s only temporary, trainee team-leader. We deal with the damn marauders, then whatever this is, it will end. Is that clear, Misery? And ¡­ what¡¯s you¡¯re familiar¡¯s name again? Dimal said through our brand new spiritual voice-chat. Crystal clear, sir, Krissy said. ¡®My name is Kevin, scout-master Dimal. It¡¯s not a difficult name, you know,¡¯ I said, somewhat offended. This was the third time he didn¡¯t remember my name. Was he doing this on purpose? Kevin. That¡¯s right. Strange name for a spirit. Dimal said. Have you heard a spirit introduce itself before, sir? Arde asked. First time. I don¡¯t know what I expected, but not Kevin. I think I remember a Kevin from somewhere ¡­ The ranger said. This is ¡­hm ¡­ the familiar is rather friendly, but his voice is ¡­ unsettling. Hisa commented. This is a bad idea. Having a spiritualist with us is a bad idea. Timo commented again, but no-one said anything to him. Alright, spread out a little more, and lets see how we can coordinate using this thing. Dimal said, and the trainees obeyed. I was surprised how fast the elves had got used to communicating with their thoughts ¡ª a mere ten minutes, and they were as proficient as Krissy or the sailors. I was beginning to think it wasn¡¯t just the elves¡¯ bodies that were superior to humans¡¯ but maybe their minds as well. Or maybe it came down to the training and discipline they had received as rangers, I wasn¡¯t sure. The sun was long gone from the sky. The dark forest gradually turned into a dark field, spotted with lone trees, bushes, and occasional, deserted farmhouses. I could see well enough, but Krissy could barely see anything ¡ª the moon tried to shine through the clouds but mostly failed, the team was spread apart more than usual, and she was using both my Mana and my verbal directions to navigate and to keep up with everyone. Dimal was an efficient team leader: he conducted his improvised coordination drills without slowing down and losing time, issuing orders and arranging the trainees in different formations via our voice-chat. After a few hours we were approaching the coast where we were supposed to find and meet up with another team. By my best estimate it was around two in the morning when the fields terminated in a sharp cliff overlooking the sea. The beach was at least fifteen, maybe even twenty meters below, as rocky and unappealing, running for miles in both directions. I wished I could have taken a deep breath and smell the salty air, but I had to be content with the sight and the sound of the waves splashing and rumbling under the moon. Anyone see anything? Another team? A runner? Marauders? Dimal asked. The scout-master was at least fifty metres to our right, Timo another thirty or forty metres past him. Hisa and Arde were on our left at around the same distance from us as the others. A ranger is coming up to me. A runner. Timo reported. Alright, tell them who we are and ask where to find Sitanel Niraki¡¯s team. Dimal instructed him. About a minute later Timo spoke again. Her team should be about three miles south. They¡¯re watching one of the dips where you can go down to the beach. Another team is searching nearby caves in that area with the other spiritualist. That¡¯s Kitala Iwani. Krissy said. Alright, we¡¯ll join Sini¡¯s team at the dip, and we¡¯ll see how we go from there. Move out! Dimal gave us his instructions. Krissy turned right, and we begun to trudge along the dangerously sharp and abrupt edge of the cliffs. I sincerely hoped she wouldn¡¯t take a bad step in the darkness, then stumble, plummet and splatter on the rocky beach. *** It didn¡¯t take long to reach our destination. Scout-master Sitanel Niraki did not look happy ¡ª that was the full name of the grouchy woman we found. She was rubbing her eyes with one hand while mumbling some obscenities I could barely hear. Hisa and Arde ¡ª the two of them had been the first to arrive to the dip ¡ª stood at attention, enduring the curses directed at them, and they sighed with relief when they saw Krissy coming. Sini stopped rubbing her eyes and squinted at us as we arrived. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ Sitanel Niraki croaked, then turned back to Hisa and Arde. ¡®That¡¯s not Dimal, that¡¯s a torture-jester. Did I miss something? Or did the top decide theater troupes are the new way to fight barbarians?¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ no, sir,¡¯ Arde said. ¡®Master Dimal will be here in a minute. This is Misery.¡¯ ¡®Oh? Misery?¡¯ Sini asked, frowning at Krissy¡¯s mask. ¡®Can you even see properly?¡¯ ¡®I can see fine, sir,¡¯ Krissy told the woman, grimacing under the mask, sticking her tongue out at her. Luckily no-one could see it. At this point I had to reassess the meaning of the elven word I had put down as ¡°sir¡± ¡ª it must have been a unisex word, used to address people of higher rank or status, both male and female. ¡®Alright, well,¡¯ Sini said, sighing, or maybe yawning, then pointed at the sole ranger standing behind her. ¡®This is Gavil. The others are Sivet and Narak. They are some way away, watching the path going down.¡¯ Sini then looked past Krissy and the others ¡ª Dimal and Timo arrived running, kicked up small pebbles as they slid to halt. ¡®Ah, Dimal,¡¯ Sini addressed the ranger. ¡®You look terrible Sini,¡¯ Dimal remarked instead of just saying hello like a normal person would have. And he wasn¡¯t even breathing harder, not even after having to run who knows how many kilometres to get here. Neither was Timo. They sure made it look easy. ¡®Haven¡¯t slept for two days,¡¯ Sini said, almost spitting the words. ¡®I was about to get a minute or two, then this ¡­ band of clownsprouts decided to show up.¡¯ ¡®Sorry about that, but we have a job to do,¡¯ Dimal said and was about to continue speaking, but the woman interrupted him. ¡®Where¡¯s your team?¡¯ she asked, looking around as if said team was hiding behind one of us. ¡®Out and about. Runner duty,¡¯ the man said. ¡®I see. So you¡¯re just delivering the Hellspawn¡¯s spiritualist?¡¯ ¡®Yes, that, but I¡¯m staying,¡¯ Dimal said. ¡®Oh, good. Then take over watch and let me sleep for a bloody minute, will you?¡¯ the woman half pleaded half demanded. ¡®No time for that, Sini,¡¯ Dimal said, a smile creeping up on his face, making him look outright scary as the moon painted him with lights and shadows. Dimal than patted Krissy on her shoulder, and said to Sini, ¡®You will love what the torture-jester and her familiar can do.'' Chapter Forty-nine Chapter Forty-nine I wasn¡¯t sure how many people I could connect to my comm-node. I already had Krissy, Arde, Hisa, Timo and Dimal on it, and now scout-master Sitanel Niraki joined as the sixth. My Tentacle Horror instinct was basically doing the equivalent of shrugging, telling me that I¡¯d probably notice hitting the limit. I did have my artificial secondary comm-node of course, with no-one attached to it, but I hadn¡¯t repaired it since I had kicked Kenta and Tommi off it. Besides, the two nodes were on ¡­ different ¡°frequencies¡± ¡ª people connected to one node could not hear or talk to people on the other node. Maybe if I tried to connect the two nodes themselves with a short thread, but ¡­ there was no time for experimenting, and I wasn¡¯t even sure I wanted to. In my experience, anything to do with the nodes ended in quite a bit of pain for me. But, we were up and running, and Sitanel Niraki was getting the hang of talking to the others with her thoughts. You were right, Dimal, I love this. Sini sent her thoughts over the voice-chat, all her sleep-deprivation induced grouchiness vanishing. ¡®Thank you for using everyone¡¯s favourite spirit-walkie-talkie. Please like and leave a review,¡¯ I said, grinning on the inside, happy that the experiment was going well, and that nobody was screaming ¡°evil spirit¡± at me, demanding that I be dismembered and disposed of on the spot. In truth, I couldn¡¯t say I was surprised by how fast the rangers had grown to appreciate the improvised voice-chat function I provided. It was one of the things this world and good old Earth had in common: military types. Give them a new toy that could make them an even more efficient fighting force, and they¡¯d take it with minimal questions asked, even if they didn¡¯t like the answers to those few questions. Timo was the only one who acted the way I¡¯d have expected all of them to act: with a large dose of suspicion and skepticism Uh ¡­ Misery, what¡¯s he talking about? Sini asked, utterly confused. He gets like this sometimes. Just ignore him. Krissy said, shrugging. We need to re-arrange the teams. One ranger with the thread-things in each team. Our reaction time will double or triple. Dimal said, sounding rather excited himself. Damn spiritualists. You¡¯ve got to love them and hate them at the same time. Sini said, looking at Krissy¡¯s masked face, her thoughts sounding like a long sigh. Well, it¡¯s just until the barbarians are dealt with. Krissy said. Yes, well, that will take some time. Can your familiar take more people on ¡­ to ¡­ uh ¡­ whatever this is? She asked. ¡®I¡¯d rather not. It¡¯s becoming a little ¡­ painful for me,¡¯ I sort of lied to scout-master Sini. I had no intention to take more people on, in fact, I was already contemplating ordering radio silence ¡ª so many thought-voices going through me at the same time was weird. I already dreaded the time when I had to disconnect all these people. ¡®Uh ¡­ alright,¡¯ Sini said, talking out loud this time, then turned to Krissy. ¡®Your familiar¡¯s voice is giving me shivers.¡¯ ¡®I know. You¡¯ll get used to it, sir,¡¯ she said. ¡®Alright then,¡¯ Sini said, then she sighed. ¡®I don¡¯t even want to know what the Hellspawn offered the two of you in return for your help. I hope he¡¯s not letting you set up a shrine in his garden.¡¯ Krissy just laughed, waving her hand, her voice slightly muffled by her mask. Dimal waved Sini over to him, and presented some plans. ¡®Alright, Sini, I think this is how we should split and distribute the trainees,¡¯ he said to the woman. *** Krissy and I were the ones who ended up staying with Sini¡¯s team, watching the dip and the steep, narrow path going down to the beach. Dimal had taken the trainees to insert them into other teams, either watching the beach from the clifftop, or searching the many caves under the cliff walls. If any of them found any orks, we¡¯d know immediately. Morning was coming; the clouds were starting to glow orange on the horizon, the faint light reflecting off the surface of the sea. Krissy was dozing off as she sat on the ground, her mask on the grass next to her, only the jerky she was chewing on keeping her awake. Sini was sleeping ¡ª I could hear the woman snoring as she lay on her robe, on the rocky ground, a few metres from Krissy and a mere metre away from the cliff¡¯s edge. It seemed she like living dangerous. Her team members were watching the path leading down from the cliff, but they were too far from me to see them. There was no sign of the enemy. Even my spirit voice-chat was quiet ¡ª the last I had heard from anyone was Arde, Hisa, Timo and Dimal reporting when each of them had reached the teams they were to join, giving them the heads-up on the brand new long distance communication ability. I was used to waiting and doing nothing ¡ª half of my life as a spirit consisted of it. Most of the time I had things to think about, or some spiritual building project to tinker with. This time, it was just waiting. I checked my pools: they were all full. Then I checked the rooms. The spaces in Jack¡¯s Room were easy to quantify ¡ª I had 39 spaces available out of 50, and I knew roughly how much physical matter I could stuff in there. My Spirit-Room was trickier: for instance, my old costume, made of Spirit Stuff and Essence, fit in there without problems. The parts of my new costume I was making, using specially altered Essence, took up a lot more space, and there was no way I could fit a whole costume in there. A third of it, maybe, unless I expanded the room. Unfortunately I had reached some kind of limit and I couldn¡¯t expand my rooms or my pools. It bothered me that I couldn¡¯t figure out how exactly spirit-storage-pace worked. Was it based on spiritual weight, or volume, or something else? I wasn¡¯t sure. What I was sure of was that I had to level. I had to grow my body, if I wanted to advance. I couldn¡¯t lie: I was looking forward to fighting and eating the orks, and possibly some familiars. My Tentacle Horror instinct was giving me the thumbs up as the thought crossed my mind. When someone finally spoke over the voice chat, reporting enemy contact, I was raring to go and sample some ork souls. *** Marauders! Group of six greens and two elves. Four captives: three women and one ranger. They look badly beaten and they¡¯re tied up with ropes. Timo¡¯s thought-voice echoed in my mind, carrying an undertone of rage and disgust. They¡¯re heading down to the beach. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Timo was with a team that had been watching another dip, another path down to the beach from the cliffs. They were about one and a half kilometres to the north from us, at least that was the feeling I got from my thread to Timo. Sini scrambled to her feet, using one hand to grip her spear and the other to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Krissy jumped up too, a bit groggy and still half asleep, but thanks to Toven and Fenar¡¯s relentless training, she was ready to go even in that state. I lifted her mask to her face using a Mana-gloved tentie, and fixed it in place for her. I didn¡¯t think she even noticed it. Alright, all teams, you know where Zivek¡¯s team is. Go there, but be stealthy, don¡¯t let the enemy spot you. Sini sent her thoughts to everyone, then addressed her own team. ¡®Enemy spotted. Zivek¡¯s team is following them. It¡¯s about a mile from here, let¡¯s get going!¡¯ Sini¡¯s team heard her loud and clear, despite being spread out over tens of meters; the three rangers ¡ª two archers and a guy with a spear and sword ¡ª sprung up and headed down to the beach, not waiting for their team-leader, or us. We see them coming down to the beach. They might be going to one of the caves. Kitala Iwani says there are no spiritualists among them. Hisa informed us. Hisa was with the same team Kiwa had been assigned to, and they had been the ones checking caves. It was fortunate they were close to the team Timo was with. The lack of spiritualists was a little disheartening, but if all went well and we made it to the site before the rangers killed everyone, I could still enjoy some medium-rare ork souls. That¡¯s right. They are heading north on the beach, probably to a cave to wait for a ship to pick them up. Timo chimed in. We¡¯ll be in the area in less than ten minutes. Dimal said, making his the fourth team on the way to deal with the ork threat. Based on the thread to Dimal, his team was even further to the north, almost three kilometres - I imagined they were running already. The path leading down to the beach was so steep we were almost rolling down as opposed to walking down, but we made it in one piece. Krissy followed Sini and her team, jogging on the beach, jumping over rocks of all shapes and sizes ¡ª the terrain wasn¡¯t easy to traverse, but she managed to keep up, using about 1 MP per minute. They entered a cave. This must be one of their pick up points. Timo said over the voice-chat. We¡¯ve just met up with Zivek¡¯s team. Hisa informed everyone. Sini! What¡¯s the plan? We¡¯ll meet up with Zivek in five minutes. Dimal said. We¡¯re rescuing the captives of course, what did you think? Sini replied. We¡¯ll be there in ten. Marauders! Group of five greens and one elf. Two captives. Children. Arde¡¯s panicked thoughts reached us all. Heading north on the beach, probably to the same cave. The greens are all bloodied, and they¡¯re carrying a lot of weapons. This might have been a larger group that raided a guarded settlement. Shit! Arde? Wasn¡¯t his team somewhere south of us, down the beach? It felt like he was about two kilometres from us, definitely the opposite direction to the cave we were heading to, which meant there was a group of orks behind us, trying to join up with the first group. Fucking bastards! Dimal swore, his thought-voice oozing hatred. The cave is definitely near a pick up point. Two groups of the green shits at the same time? That ship is coming and it¡¯s coming soon. Sini said, her thought-voice trembling with anger. Alright. We are a quarter of a mile north from the dip we were watching. Arde, how far behind us are you? About a mile and a half, maybe less. Arde relayed the information. ¡®Yeah, that sounds about right,¡¯ I confirmed Arde¡¯s estimate. Timo, Hisa, tell your teams to wait for Dimal¡¯s team to get there. Watch the cave, but don¡¯t go in. Sini gave her orders to them, then immediately addressed Arde. Arde, tell Havan we¡¯re turning back to help his team deal with the second enemy group. You¡¯re behind them, we¡¯re in front of them. We¡¯ll pincer those shits and get our children back. Got it, sir! Everyone on my comm-node acknowledged the orders. *** The beach was a weird one, nothing like the pebbly beaches of Misery Island, or the sandy beach we¡¯d seen down south where we had arrived on Solace. An abundance of rocks, from as small as a penny to as large as a garden shed, made it quite difficult to move fast. But it also made it easy to hide. The orks and their pet elf were in for a surprise. I would have to ask later why the hell elves were working for the marauders, but that had to wait. Sini and her rangers hid themselves, crouching behind car sized rocks ¡ª the two archers holding their bows, ready to nock arrows, Sini and the other guy gripping their spears. Krissy of course followed suit and hid, keeping her hand on the hilt of her sword. The scout-master took full advantage of my invisible presence; she instructed me to keep a lookout for the enemy so the team could stay hidden for as long as possible. So, I stuck a tentacle through the rock, looking for the approaching enemy. I was useful in many, different ways, wasn¡¯t I? I was beginning to feel quite good about myself. Krissy, on the other hand, was breathing heavily, her hands shaking. I had never been a fighter myself, but in the absence of other spirits, I wasn¡¯t in any danger. But Krissy? This wasn¡¯t going to be as forgiving an affair as her bouts with Timo on the training ground. ¡®Krissy, draw as much Mana as you need,¡¯ I told her, hoping she¡¯d calm down. ¡®I¡¯m with you.¡¯ ¡®I know,¡¯ she breathed the words out under her mask. ¡®I¡¯m ready.¡¯ Sini had heard this exchange, and chimed in. Listen, Misery, the green bastards are tough and strong. It takes some time to bring them down. But they¡¯re slow, well, slower than elves. I wouldn¡¯t bet on a human, normally, but I know your lot, I mean spiritualists, can move fast and cut through a rock if they have to, so don¡¯t hold back. It was good advice. I¡¯m ready. Krissy said, making an effort to slow her breathing. Good. Sini said, then she addressed me. Spirit-man, can you see anything? I think I hear something. I was amazed by how good her hearing was, for the enemy was indeed coming. The dead creature in the forest hadn¡¯t been much to go on ¡ª it had been too damaged and covered in too much blood. Now I got to have good look at them; they were every bit the greenskinned menace I¡¯d expected them to be. The five orks looked like they¡¯ve just come back from a long trip in the Mad Max universe: leather and fur clothes, mail and plate, and of course plenty of spikes. They were huge and heavy, taller than a man or an elf, and at least three times bulkier. Tattoos or body paint covered their mossy-green faces and arms. Their tusks were smaller than those of the fantasy orks I knew, at least as far as I could tell from this distance, but they looked ready to murder their way through any obstacles. One of the orks carried two elven children ¡ª both kids on one shoulder, as if they were nothing but a bag of feathers. Then there was the elven barbarian, walking ahead of the orks, like a scout or something. He reminded me of the frontman of a Scandinavian black metal band: long, silvery hair, black and white face paint, spiky rivets on his clothes along with macabre decorations made of bones. I was sure mayhem was this guy¡¯s bread and butter, with a little bit of setting churches ablaze on the side. Sini was right: holding back wasn¡¯t an option here. ''I see them. A hundred or so paces,'' I informed the scout-master. And? Sini demanded. ''And what? They¡¯re coming,'' I said, not exactly sure what she wanted me to say. Their set up! Their formation! Weapons! The kids! Come on you stupid, spirit! Details! Sini¡¯s thoughts sounded like a strange mixture of hissing and screaming. ''Oh. Okay,'' I said, rather embarrassed by my own shortcomings. I stuck a couple more tenties through the rock, just to make sure I wasn¡¯t missing anything, and I began describing what I saw from this distance. ''So ¡­ the elf is like ten or fifteen paces in front of the rest. Scout, maybe? He¡¯s got a spear. Then five orks ¡­ or greens, two at the front, the one behind them has the kids on his shoulders, and the last two are bringing up the rear. Yes. As for weapons ¡­ meat cleavers, clubs, axes, a spear ¡­ and one of them has a round shield. Anything else you want to know?'' No, that¡¯s good. She said. Sivet and Narak will put a few arrows in the elf. Then we all get in close with the greens, spears and swords. Gavil and Sivet left. I¡¯m in the middle. You¡¯re on the right, Misery, with Narak. Remember, the goal is to keep the bastards from killing the children. When Arde and Havan¡¯s team catches up, then we we slaughter the green fucks. I¡¯m ready. Krissy said, steadying her hands, gripping her sword like there was no tomorrow. Chapter Fifty Chapter Fifty Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was not at all sure if she could do this. She was gripping her sword, crouching behind the rock, waiting for Sini¡¯s signal to jump out of cover and rush the enemy. Her body was as tense as drawn bowstrings, and she felt like she¡¯d just snap in half if she tried to move. It was the same, unsettling sensation in the pit of her stomach as before ¡ª being stuck between two bad options: running and hiding, or fighting a fight she didn¡¯t think she was ready for. She had trained and trained and trained, but it was a real fight coming her way now. Kill or be killed, plain and simple. She realized that this was what Master Fenar must have meant ¡ª what was it he¡¯d said? Determination, discipline and a will to fight and to kill. Master Fenar was right: it didn¡¯t matter how much she had learned or trained, how good or bad she was with a sword ¡ª anyone could pick up a rock on this beach and bash her head in if she wasn¡¯t ready for a real fight. If she failed to find the will, if she failed to find the determination. Was this why Fenar had sent her here? Not only to aid Fifth Rangers, but to force her into the state of mind a true warrior needed? Perhaps. Still, Krissintha felt this was too soon. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm herself, loosening her muscles. She felt a drop of cold sweat rolling down her face under her misery-mask. Kevin, you¡¯ll protect me, right? She asked, knowing the answer even before it came. At all cost. The spirit said without hesitation. Well, that¡¯s touching, but get ready! I can hear the children. They¡¯re crying. Sini said, her thought-voice almost a growl. Krissintha could hear nothing except the rumbling of the sea, but Sini¡¯s anger, and the thought of barbarians enslaving children, it was ¡­ it gave her the unsubtle push she needed to ignore her instincts, screaming at her to stay hidden and stay out of trouble. We¡¯ll be there in less than a minute. Arde said over Kevin¡¯s ability. They¡¯re here. The elf¡¯s twenty paces from us. Kevin said. Sini whistled a signal. Krissintha could just about hear the two archers stepping out of their cover, then the pangs of bowstrings and the whooshing of arrows. But the shriek of an elf, and the guttural roars of orks were louder and closer than she would have liked. It was time: if she didn¡¯t move now, she knew she wouldn¡¯t move at all. ¡®Oh, hell!¡¯ Krissintha hissed, and she jumped out from behind the rock. Sini and the others were already out, the two archers discarding their bows and drawing their swords. She welcomed the tingle as she drew on Kevin¡¯s power, and she ran, propelled by the weird and mystical blue flashes. The barbarian was on his knees, two arrows sticking out of him, one in his chest, one in his shoulder. The five orks behind him lined up and readied their weapons as soon as they realised they were under assault. The one with the round shield stepped forward, waiting for Sini, who was leading the charge. The elves ran like the wind, as if the beach wasn¡¯t at all a rough and rugged affair littered with rocks of all sizes. Krissintha ran, too, right after the archer named Narak, who held his sword now. They rushed past the downed elf ¡ª whether he was dead or not, it didn¡¯t matter, he was out of the fight. Another ten paces to the enemy ¡ª she¡¯d be there in seconds. The orks weren¡¯t shy: their rumbling war-cries shook the rocks. With their arms in the air and weapons swinging, they were ready to welcome the rangers. Krissintha veered right, following Narak, aiming for the marauder that was beckoning to her with its battle-axe. Her designated target. This one¡¯s ours! Give it everything you¡¯ve got! Krissintha heard Kevin¡¯s thoughts in her head, almost screaming at her, and she felt an extra serving of tingles as a blueish shimmer flashed for a moment, right in front of her ¡ª Kevin¡¯s so called Mana-Armour. She could do this. She wasn¡¯t alone, she could do this. The elves and orks met. Krissintha¡¯s vision narrowed down to the single barbarian that was hers, ignoring everything else. She trusted the rangers, and more than that, she trusted Kevin to keep an eye out for everything else around her, and she hoped she could keep the giant, green creature occupied long enough. And without dying. She had to. The ork bellowed, spittle spraying from its mouth, as Krissintha arrived, ready to strike at it. It brought its axe down, aiming for her head. It would have split her in half, she had no doubt, but she sidestepped, and the blade of the weapon panged off a rock on the ground instead of cleaving through her from top to bottom. She spun around, swinging her sword at the creature. Mana flickered on her blade as it cut into the ork¡¯s arm. The beast howled, like some kind of bear. Krissintha pulled her weapon away, leaving a wound on its arm, thick and disgusting black blood flowing out of it. I thought that would cut his arm off! Just how thick are his bones? Kevin complained, but Krissintha didn¡¯t have the time to comment or retort. The ork juggled the axe into his other arm, and punched at her with the injured one. She jumped back, just quick enough to avoid a hit that would have crushed her bones, maybe even with Mana-Armour. The green beast gargled some unintelligible words at her, insults probably. Then it rushed her. Krissintha backed away as nimbly as her training and her familiar¡¯s power could carry her, but the ork was close. She was backing away, but it was in the wrong direction, towards the cliff wall ¡ª she¡¯d get stuck with nowhere to go, she realised. Offence, Krissy, go on the offence! Kevin thought-yelled at her. Almost there, ten seconds. Arde¡¯s thoughts came almost at the same time. Help was coming. So was the ork¡¯s axe. She dodged it, the weapon scattering sparks and leaving a gouge in a man-sized boulder behind her. Damn. Kevin was right: she had to go on the offence. The ork lifted its axe again. No more time to ponder what to do, she willed Mana into her legs, and she jumped. She landed on top of the boulder behind her, her footing stable. That cost a lot. Kevin complained, and she didn¡¯t care one bit. She was up on the rock, her knees at the level of the ork¡¯s head. The ork seemed to be baffled by this display of acrobatics normally impossible for a human, but only for a single moment. ¡®This will cost some more!¡¯ she yelled out loud, willing more of Kevin¡¯s power to gather on her sword. The ork lunged into a sweeping strike, aiming at her legs. It bellowed something Krissintha thought was some sort of victory cry: the ork was larger, its arms were longer, and the axe wasn¡¯t a short thing either. She, on the other hand, was smaller, she was higher up, and reaching the monster¡¯s head, even with her sword, was impossible. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Krissintha used every drop of willpower she had, picturing the spirit¡¯s Mana taking shape, like a blade, flying and cutting into the ork¡¯s head. Just like she had seen Jevan do it a lifetime ago. Just like Kevin had told her to do it. She was too high up, the sword was too short, but she swung it in a downward arc as if chopping wood. A flash; a momentary, blue shimmer, and the ork choked on its own victory cry as a blade made of Kevin¡¯s power shot out from her sword and hit the enemy. The ork¡¯s head split open with a nasty, wet crunch, from the top all the way to the base of its neck. The axe fell from its hand and clattered away. Black blood and bits of brain and bone splashed on the boulder, on her boots, even on her mask. Invisible blades made of a spirit¡¯s power were ¡­ unexpectedly impactful. The creature slumped to the ground, twitched a couple of times, then it didn¡¯t move. Krissintha stared down at it. Her handiwork. She had just killed something, perhaps someone. In a real, life or death fight. And she hadn¡¯t done it as a human, or a ranger trainee; she had done it as a spiritualist. She looked down at herself. She wasn¡¯t tired or exhausted ¡ª Kevin¡¯s power was a handy thing ¡ª but her arms and her legs were shaking. You¡¯ve done it. You¡¯re first kill. Kevin commented, his thoughts cheerful. And you were complaining about costing you some power? Krissintha sneered, trying to calm herself. It was just a ¡­ notification, you know, I wasn¡¯t complaining. But that jump cost eight whole MP, and the Mana-blade? Fifteen. It was quite the spectacle though. Thank god I¡¯m a spirit and didn¡¯t get any blood on me. She lifted her head to look around, trying to see the rest of the battle. Or the aftermath of it. ¡®Huh,¡¯ Krissy said, then narrowed her eyes as she took in the scene on the beach. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ Yeah, bit of a hostage situation over there, isn¡¯t it? Kevin said. The fight was over. Four dead orks and one dead barbarian elf lay on the ground. Arde and Havan¡¯s team were already here, and it seemed the nine rangers made short work of the barbarians. Except a single ork who was still standing, one of the children dangling from its enormous hand. The kid whimpered as the green fingers tightened around his tiny neck like a noose. ¡®Bastard!¡¯ Krissintha hissed. It could crush the kid in the blink of an eye. Kevin noted, sounding a lot calmer than the situation would have justified, and before she could protest the spirit¡¯s nonchalant attitude, he said: Let¡¯s get over there, shall we? *** Krissintha glared at the ork: its speech a collection of grunts and gurgles, the kid¡¯s painful squeaks drowned out by the beast¡¯s coarse voice. Kevin was right: it could crush the poor boy¡¯s neck just by flexing the muscles of its fingers. But the kid was still alive, so surely, two ranger teams could do something about this, couldn¡¯t they? Krissintha looked around her ¡ª seven elves glared at the ork, surrounding it, swords and spears pointing at it. She looked behind her, where Arde and another ranger, a woman, were cradling the other child, a girl, away from the others, trying to calm her down. Krissintha had been focusing on her own opponent during the fight and hadn¡¯t really seen how it had gone for the others. This ork must have dropped the girl to be able to defend itself, but kept the boy in its clutches when it saw things weren¡¯t going particularly well for the marauders. ¡®It¡¯s trying to bargain, isn¡¯t it? The piece of shit fucking bastard,¡¯ one of the rangers snarled angrily. He was probably Havan, the other team leader. Sini looked like she was about to explode and destroy everything in at least a mile around her. ¡®So, what do we do?¡¯ Havan asked, looking at the woman. ¡®If we attack, all at once ¡­¡¯ another ranger tried to suggest. ¡®The boy will die before the first blade reaches the bastard,¡¯ Havan said, cutting the man short. ¡®What then?¡¯ the ranger asked, glancing back at the little girl in Arde¡¯s care, then back at the boy in the ork¡¯s hand. The ork barked something that might have been words, shaking the poor kid like a merchant would shake a bag of money. It was definitely trying to bargain for its own life, that much was clear, even if no one understood its disgusting language. Scout-master Sini let out a grunt of her own, not taking her eyes off the vile creature and the kid in its hand. ¡®The boy will be better off dead than a slave,¡¯ Sini spoke finally, and lifted her sword a little higher, ready to lead the charge to kill the captor and likely cause the captive to die as well. The little elven girl suddenly jumped up and tried to run to the boy. She was weak and slow, and Arde and the ranger woman with him, caught her. The girl screamed, pointing at the boy, begging the beast to let her brother go, begging Arde to let her go, and just begging and crying in general. Krissintha gritted her teeth, and fought hard to keep herself from rushing the ork and put her sword through its skull herself. A kid. A little boy, who had a life of slavery to look forward to if they let the ork get away. Maybe Sini was right and letting the ork go with the kid wasn¡¯t an option. Maybe the kid would be better off dead. She had had thoughts like that about herself, hadn¡¯t she? There was no choice to make here, really: the boy would not become a slave, and the ork needed to be killed. A minuscule notion that existed in her mind, telling her that killing a living creature was wrong ¡ª even an ork ¡ª was vanishing fast and without a trace. But the kid ¡­ Can you do it, Kevin? Can you eat its soul quickly enough? Before it could kill the kid? Krissintha asked, hoping the spirit could do it, and that it would hurt like hell. Krissy, think before you speak, will you? Kevin wailed immediately. I don¡¯t care! Can you do it or not? Krissintha thought-yelled at her familiar. On it already. I¡¯m trying to get my tentacles around those fingers. I don¡¯t want them to ¡­ like ¡­ twitch and snap the wrong way when I yank the fucker¡¯s soul out. Good, good. Keep at it! Krissintha said, almost letting out a sigh of premature relief. The hell? Sini¡¯s thoughts came. She even turned her head to look at Krissintha, looking like someone who just got the worst possible news at the worst possible moment. Krissintha didn¡¯t care: she knew everyone connected to Kevin could hear her, but ¡­ a child¡¯s life wasn¡¯t a price she was willing to pay just to keep her familiar¡¯s eating habits a secret. Hold on, hold on, what in the fuck are you two talking about? Dimal¡¯s panicked thoughts came as well. Dimal was miles away from them, somewhere near a cave where the other group of marauders were hiding. Krissintha was sure the man was making the same face as Sini right now. Sini quickly explained to Dimal what was going on. We¡¯re killing the ork and getting the boy back. Krissintha stated to the both of them, looking at Sini. Sure, killing the ¡­ ork ¡­ yes, but ¡­ did you just say ¡°eating its soul¡±? Did I hear that right? Dimal said, his thought-voice filled with his confusion. And what? Tentacles? What kind of familiar is he? Some sort of evil spirit? Sini demanded. Uh ¡­ let¡¯s see ¡­ just think of me as your friendly neighborhood evil spirit-man, doing whatever a spirit can. Yeah. That will do. Kevin said, sounding more at ease with the statement than Krissintha would have expected. She hoped he wasn¡¯t too angry with her. Does it even matter? He can get the kid back. Alive. Isn¡¯t that all that matters? Krissintha argued her case. Alright, alright, fine. We¡¯ll take it. Dimal gave his long distance agreement. Sini, if the spirit-man can kill that pile of barbarian shit and save the kid, you should let him do it. Dimal! Sini tried to argue, her face losing colour. The ork grunted something again, looking at the rangers, one after another, and just to make its point as clearly as it could, it tightened its massive fingers around the boy¡¯s neck. The boy gasped and gurgled, then the beast loosened its grip, and repeated its unintelligible demands. I can¡¯t see the situation from here, but you should use what you have. Do you have time to consider other options? Are there even other options? Evil or not, the spirit¡¯s offering a chance. I say take it. Dimal said to Sini. Sini was in thought for a few moments, looking at the ork, then at Krissintha, then at the ork and the captive boy again. Alright. She sent a thought, her eyes narrowing and focusing on the ork. Uh ¡­ Kevin, do you need us to do anything? I think you should all take a few steps back. Make it look like you¡¯re giving in to its demands. Hopefully that will make it less likely to get twitchy fingers when I gobble up that green, mushroom-y soul. Kevin said. What? Mushroom-y? Sini asked, sounding as worried and confused as the look on her face suggested she was. Well, if you must know, their souls taste like fried mushrooms. Not my favourite so far, but I¡¯ve had worse. Kevin replied. I¡¯ll tell you all about it later. Now. Let¡¯s get this kid back. Chapter Fifty-one Chapter Fifty-one I was proud of Krissy: she had done well. Scout-master Sitanel Niraki ¡ª or Sini ¡ª had been right: the mossy-green monsters might have been large and strong, but they were slow. Well, slowish, compared to the rangers. A human like Krissy, or even an untrained, civilian elf, wouldn¡¯t have stood a chance against the buggers one-on-one. So, I was pleased to see the bloodied, split-open head of the ork ¡ª no thickness of skull was going to stop a Mana-blade, coming from a Mana-enhanced Krissy, that was for sure. Fried mushrooms had never been among my favourites ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t go as far as to say it would take a gun to my head to eat them, but if there were other options, I¡¯d go for the other options. Unfortunately, the ork¡¯s soul tasted like fried mushrooms ¡ª or at least that was the kind of spiritual flavour-impression I had got from it as I slurped up the liquified Soul-Stuff after Krissy had slain the creature. Other than that, I couldn¡¯t complain; it gave me around 80 EXP, which was pretty damn good, considering a teal coloured human soul was worth only about 40 to 45 EXP. But mushroomy or not, it was orks on the menu, and I wasn¡¯t one to let food go to waste. So, when Krissy jumped off the boulder and trudged over to the rest of the rangers, I quickly reached out with three of my tenties and latched onto the other three, fading and flickering ork souls before they would vanish. Yeah. The taste wasn¡¯t great, and I wished there were some humans around I could eat ¡ª their minty, teal coloured souls would have surely washed away the earthy flavour. Hm. Was it my Tentacle Horror instinct pushing this thought? Maybe. I knew it was selfish, inconsiderate and inappropriate, but I was beginning to see this invasion of the elf-snatchers as a godsend. The four ork souls meant nearly 320 EXP. That left around 1600 - 1700 EXP to be collected. Just twenty more of the assholes, and I¡¯d reach Level 32. I could grow my body again. I could expand my pools, and I could finally expand that damn Spirit-Room, store the parts of the new costume as I was making it, and just get on with the whole thing. But first, I had a cute little elven boy to rescue from the clutches of the lone, surviving mushroom-souled twat. Actually, as I looked at the boy, dangling from the ork¡¯s hand, flapping his arms and legs about, I wasn¡¯t sure how everyone knew he was a boy. I looked at the girl whom Arde and another ranger were taking care of ¡ª both kids were about six or seven, and they looked nearly identical to each other. Maybe they were twins, I wasn¡¯t sure. But this wasn¡¯t the time to ponder the question, or to salivate over the children¡¯s small, bronze coloured souls. Krissy was eager for me to eat the ork, eager enough that she had thought it out loud for everyone to hear. She had slipped up, hadn¡¯t she? I didn¡¯t know she had such a soft spot for kids, but then again, the topic had never come up before. I wanted to believe letting the soul-eating cat out of the bag was a part of her elaborate PR campaign to sell me to the public as a heroic tentacle-thingy rescuing the kid, thus increasing the social acceptance of soul based dining. But I was sure she had just slipped up. I wanted to be angry with her. But she had just fought a short but intense battle against an ork, only to come face to face with a hostage situation right after. So I forgave her completely and immediately. Huh. And the elves claimed they were nice and reasonable? I was nice and reasonable. I just sighed on the inside; it was what it was, and it was time to get to work, and kill two birds with one tentacle. Well, six tentacles, really. Sini ordered the rangers to back away from the ork ¡ª just as I had asked ¡ª giving the monstrous thing some room. Krissy, who was standing with the rangers, hesitated to step back. ¡®My tenties are long enough to do this, just back away,¡¯ I sent a thought to her. Krissy breathed out hard under her mask. I thought she¡¯d protest, but after a moment she stepped back and joined the others. None of them took their eyes off the ork though, none of them lowered their swords or spears. Something like a smile flashed through the ork¡¯s face ¡ª it bared its tusks, or fangs, or whatever they were, and it grunted some words that nobody understood. Had it been able to see the five tentacles slowly but surely creeping up and coiling around each of its fingers, and the one that I had stuck inside its soul, I doubted it would have been smiling. What now? Sini asked, glancing at Krissy, trying not to look worried. ¡®Now? Just watch yours truly work his magic,¡¯ I said. I willed an MP¡¯s worth of Mana into each of the five tentacles, getting ready to pry the fingers off the boy¡¯s neck. At the same time, I sloshed 10 EP out of the pool, gathering it in the tentie I had stuck into the ork¡¯s soul. In theory I could have tried to yank the soul out of the body without using Essence, just as I had done with ants in the beginning. But the creature was big, and I didn¡¯t want to leave anything to chance. And this was where I had to commit all my mental power to the coordination of my tenties. I injected the Essence into the green bastard¡¯s soul ¡ª the wires formed in a second, finding their way to every node. As that was happening, I willed the Mana in my tenties to coat the parts touching the creature¡¯s thick, green sausage fingers. The ork froze as it stood ¡ª I was sure it felt the cold touch of Mana as well as the Essence wires connecting to the nodes of its soul. It caught him completely off guard. And it was showtime. ¡®Hello there,¡¯ I greeted the giant brute. ¡®Whadda fuck?¡¯ it grunted. It wasn¡¯t the rough-sounding words I understood, it was its thoughts that reached me through the newly established connection. But I wasn¡¯t going to stop and chat with the creature. I pried its fingers and I pulled its soul. The kid fell to the ground with a yelp as I nearly ripped the ork¡¯s fingers off, probably breaking a few of them. I didn¡¯t think it could feel it though, not anymore; its soul hung at the tip of my tentacle, a safe distance from the body, invisible to most, but not to me. The rangers watched in open mouthed astonishment as the ork stiffened for a moment, dropped the kid, then fell to the ground like a tree after meeting a lumberjack. Sini was the first to react. One moment she was standing and gawking like everyone else, and the next she was with the boy as if she had teleported there, scooping him up and taking him away from the dead beast. Damn, she was fast. I gobbled up the ork¡¯s soul, wondering if there was anything that could be done to make it taste better. But, another 80-something EXP was nothing to sneeze at ¡ª about nineteen more orks to go until Level 32. ¡®Kevin,¡¯ Krissy whispered, not sending her thoughts through my comm-node this time. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, I ¡­ should have thought it through before speaking. But ¡­¡¯ she looked down at the soulless corpse of the ork ¡®¡­ this really pissed me off.¡¯ *** Hey! Sini! Misery! What¡¯s happening? And who said ¡°what the fuck¡±? Dimal¡¯s thoughts came, sounding panicked. No one was saying or thinking anything, and he had no way of knowing what was going on from where he was. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. This was a bad idea. Timo commented, the tone of his thoughts not so much panicky, but an ¡°I told you so¡± kind of thing. He had had the good sense to stay out of the discussions of the scout-masters so far, but it seemed he was unable to hold it back any more, and just had to inform us of his opinion. Even though he was a mile away from the happenings. Misery! Are you alright? Hisa also joined in, but at least she was concerned for Krissy, and thus scoring points with me. Krissy snapped out of her bewilderment. We¡¯re good. The barbarian is dead, the boy is safe. We¡¯re all safe. She sent a thought to put everyone at ease. Sini delivered the elven boy to the little girl ¡ª presumably his twin-sister ¡ª and left him in Arde and the female ranger¡¯s care, then she started talking through the voice-chat. Yeah. We¡¯re good. I ¡­ I think it was the barbarian. The one who yelled ¡°what the fuck¡±. A second before it ¡­ just ¡­ collapsed and died. She recounted the events to Dimal. Spirit-kill? Dimal asked with an interesting mixture of relief and apprehension in his thought-voice. Spirit-kill. Sini confirmed it. Just as advertised. I chimed in. I wasn¡¯t surprised at the reaction of the elves. I imagined seeing someone ¡ª even an ork ¡ª collapse and die in the same manner as they might have seen comrades die in the face of evil spirits, was disconcerting to them. Sini, Havan and their rangers were working hard to process the scene, gawking at the dead bugger with all they had. Even Arde and the woman with him were scowling, holding onto the two kids. They were eying Krissy, maybe not with suspicion, but clearly waiting for some answers. I was sure that the question was going to pop up any second. Again. And it did. ¡®So, your familiar. Is he an evil spirit or not? For real?¡¯ Sini turned to Krissy, asking aloud so everyone could hear it. ¡®I¡¯ll let you explain this one,¡¯ I said to Krissy, confident in her ability to talk her way out of anything better than I could. Sini grunted, or scoffed, I wasn¡¯t sure. Krissy took a deep breath, then reached for her mask. I released the spirit glue as she took it off, and I took it back into Jack¡¯s Room. Some of the rangers flinched at that, but not Sini. Krissy looked straight into her eyes. ¡®He isn¡¯t,¡¯ she said to her. ¡®Explain,¡¯ Sini promted her, stepping closer, but to my relief, sheathing her sword, and nodding to the other rangers to be at ease. Maybe Toven hadn¡¯t been lying and they really were nice and reasonable. Krissy suppressed a sigh before resuming her explanation. ¡®Honestly, the fact that you are speaking with and through him should be enough of an answer. I mean, I understand witnessing a spirit-kill isn¡¯t ¡­ a pleasant experience, but he¡¯s a familiar. My familiar,¡¯ Krissy explained, forcing a casual tone, as if she was just pointing out how nice the sun over the sea was. ¡®Besides, being able to do certain things doesn¡¯t make someone evil, spirit or not. It¡¯s what he does, not how he does it. In this case ¡­¡¯ Krissy said, looking at the two, reunited elven kids instead of finishing the sentence. Not only Sini, but Havan and all the rangers looked, too, and observed the children as they hugged and cried and laughed. ¡®Fine. We¡¯ve got more to do anyway,¡¯ Sini said, turning back to Krissy. ¡®Just be aware that everything will be in my report to Master Sivaren Tal and the Defence Committee.¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ alright,¡¯ Krissy said, shrugging. ¡®Huh. We¡¯ll be in the limelight, it seems,¡¯ I commented. I had to silently applaud the mindset of the military types: get the job done by any means necessary, then let the higher-ups deal with the rest. I recalled Master Fenar¡¯s wife was on this committee, so I figured we didn¡¯t have much to worry about. Surely, she knew about me already, courtesy of her loving, hellspawn-husband. And even without that, I was sure elven leadership would prefer to look at us as assets or allies, rather than enemies. Sini? Talk to me! Is there a problem? Dimal pleaded over the voice-chat, having missed the part of the conversation that had been said out loud. We¡¯re good. Everything will be in my report. Sini replied, her effort to sound calm and confident more or less successful. Alright, that aside, was it really the barbarian we heard? Dimal asked. ¡®It was,¡¯ I spoke up, because I felt I needed to explain this one myself. ¡®I connected to the green miscreant, but only briefly. Easier to pull the soul from the body that way. Hearing its thoughts was a ¡­ side effect.¡¯ Uh ¡­ that¡¯s worrying. Dimal said, and I was sure I felt mental shudders and shivers coming from each of the elves I was connected to. ¡®Never fear, scout-master, I don¡¯t go around eating souls indiscriminately, and I can say with certainty that rangers aren¡¯t on the menu,¡¯ I said, hoping it would alleviate everyone¡¯s concerns. U-huh, good to know. Dimal said, still sounding somewhat apprehensive, but then he got to what he wanted to say. So, you can ¡­ connect and talk to barbarians? Is that right? ¡®It is,¡¯ I said, wondering where he was going with this. Can you do it again? Can you talk to these animals? He asked. ¡®Why? You want me to do a Dr Doolittle?¡¯ I asked, getting an inkling of what he was getting at. And it kind of made sense. No one seemed to understand the wet, guttural gurgling that passed for a language with the green assholes ¡ª I certainly didn¡¯t ¡ª so capture and interrogation must have been something the rangers never even considered. But I suspected scout-master Dimal had just had an idea. Uhm ¡­ does that mean ¡°yes¡±? He asked, somewhat confused. Kevin, be nice! Krissy interjected, sounding rather annoyed. I had no choice but to take this seriously. ¡®Yes. I can do it. What do you have in mind, scout-master? Interrogation?¡¯ I said to him. Something like that. Dimal said, confirming my suspicion. *** Krissy walked over to Arde, who was on his knees, and in the process of calming the two children. He was stroking their heads, gently talking to them, telling them everything was fine. One of the women from Sini¡¯s team, the archer, was there with him, too, trying to help, but she seemed to be out of her element. Her name was Narak, I thought, but I wasn¡¯t sure if I remembered it correctly. Arde was doing his best not to let the kids see the dead bodies around. I looked at the dead, barbarian elf lying on the beach ¡ª he wasn¡¯t far from Arde and the kids, maybe ten metres, just out tentacle range. Arrows sticking out of his chest, his blood was drying already on the rocks and pebbles under and around him. My Tentacle Horror instinct wasn¡¯t happy with me ¡ª it lamented the lost opportunity to finally sample an elf, and of course my bold declaration that elven rangers were friends, not food. The instinct was doing its best, nudging, whispering, demanding that I satisfy a hunger I didn¡¯t actually feel. Well, it was what it was. I was sure there were going to be more opportunities soon. One of the rangers had searched the dead elf¡¯s body already for anything that could be useful, just as they were still searching the dead orks. The only useful thing the search yielded so far was a spyglass. I supposed even orks needed one if they wanted to see their ship approaching the shore. Other than that, the green fucks had nothing the rangers could have used for anything ¡ª their weapons were too large and cumbersome for an elf, and the few, crumpled maps and pieces of parchment or paper weren¡¯t going to reveal any secrets. ¡®Are you alright?¡¯ Krissy asked Arde as she stopped in front of the little gathering of rangers and children. Arde looked down at himself, at the bloodstains on his clothes, then up at her. ¡®Yeah. Barbarian blood, not mine,¡¯ he said, sighing. ¡®You?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m okay, I think,¡¯ Krissy said. Arde turned his head to glance at the dead ork I had masterfully robbed of its soul. ¡®That was ¡­ terrifying,¡¯ he said, then looked back at Krissy. ¡®I mean ¡­ it just collapsed, so it shouldn¡¯t be ... but it was terrifying. Is this ¡­ is this how my mother died?¡¯ Krissy took a deep breath. I had no doubt memories of our fight with the so-called evil spirit were flashing through her mind ¡ª they were certainly popping up in mine ¡ª and of course the image of Ardeela Erini, one of many who had lost their souls and lives to that invisible monstrosity. ¡®Yes. I¡¯m afraid so,¡¯ Krissy said, nodding. ¡®But listen, Kevin would never ¡­¡¯ ¡®I know, I know,¡¯ Arde said, cutting her short. ¡®I¡¯m not saying that. It¡¯s just ¡­ you know.¡¯ ¡®I know,¡¯ Krissy nodded. Then none of them spoke, they were just looking at each other. The archer woman ¡ª Narak, I was sure now ¡ª was looking at the two of them like a lost puppy, and decided it was better to keep her attention on the kids. I wasn¡¯t socially inept, not at all, but even I wasn¡¯t sure if this was one of those touching, emotional moments after shared traumatic experiences, bonding over it and such, or if it was an uncomfortable silence where both had more to say to the other but couldn¡¯t find the words. I was considering saying something ¡ª maybe thanking Krissy for trying to defend me in front of Arde, or to reassure the young ranger trainee that I considered him a friend. Perhaps I could tell him more about how his mother died, fighting that abomination of a spirit. Luckily, scout-master Sitanel Niraki beat me to it, and saved me from making a fool of myself by saying something inappropriate for the mood. ¡®Arde!¡¯ she said as she arrived to us along with the other team-leader, Havan. ¡®First fight? I mean real fight?¡¯ ¡®Yes sir,¡¯ Arde replied, standing up and startling the two kids. ¡®You¡¯ve done well,¡¯ she said to him, then looked at Krissy, sighing. ¡®Oh, to hell with it, you too, Misery.¡¯ ¡®Thank you, sir,¡¯ the two of them chorused. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s go and see what the rest of the greens are up to in that cave,¡¯ Sini announced. Chapter Fifty-two Chapter Fifty-two Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain followed the rangers, trudging up the steep and narrow path to the cliff-top. Her legs started to hurt. It was a strange kind of pain, maybe not even pain. An unusual, unpleasant sensation in both her legs she had never felt before. She wasn¡¯t sure if the words to describe it even existed. Was it because she used too much of Kevin¡¯s power for that jump? Perhaps there was such a thing as overusing a familiar¡¯s power. The spirit hadn¡¯t seemed too happy about her using too much of the so called ¡°Mana¡±, and maybe with good reason. But the pseudo-pain wasn¡¯t unbearable, so she wasn¡¯t going to complain. They reached the top, and Krissintha found the view of a grassy field and trees so much better than the rocky beach below. She watched Arde as he said his good-byes to the kids, and as Narak the archer took them to find a runner who could take them to safety. Then it was marching time. Krissintha lifted the misery mask to her face. Her familiar did whatever it was he did, and the mask stayed there. It was just one of the numerous things Kevin could do ¡ª there was no point in pondering how. It was spirit power. Or Mana. She could call on it, feel the tingle, and it made her faster, stronger, and even let her cut an enemy that was out of her reach nearly in half. That power was hers to use: she could control it by will and instinct. The short conversation with Arde was still rolling over and over in her mind. Arde was right: it was terrifying what a spirit could do ¡ª no-one could see or know what it looked like when a spirit devoured a soul, but the idea itself, and that even familiars could and would do it ¡­ well. Being a spiritualist wasn¡¯t exactly as reassuring as she had thought it to be before. But at the same time it was satisfying. It felt good to be in control of such power. After her first battle, or skirmish, or brawl, she understood more than ever why people off all stations strove to become spiritualists, or have spiritualists in their service. Or both. Her father had said power always came at a price, and you wouldn¡¯t always know right away what that price was. She was beginning to understand how true it was. The elves marched ¡ª if one could call their brisk jogging a march ¡ª and as always, Krissintha had no choice but to use a little bit of Kevin¡¯s power to keep up with them. It didn¡¯t take long to reach the place where Dimal and the other teams kept watch over the beach and the cave below. ¡®Anything?¡¯ Sini asked the moment they saw Dimal lying on his belly in the patchy grass at the edge of the cliff. ¡®The elf comes out from time to time. He¡¯s got a spyglass. They¡¯re definitely waiting for a ship to pick them up,¡¯¡¯ Dimal said as Sini settled down next to him. Krissy and Arde did the same and lay down, close enough to the edge to be able to see the beach below. The rest of the rangers dispersed, crouching or crawling, but staying in elven earshot. Sini rummaged through her bag, which wasn¡¯t easy to do lying on her stomach, and she brought out the spyglass they had taken off the dead elf. She handed it to Dimal. ¡®Nice,¡¯ the man said, put it to his eye, and scanned the horizon. ¡®I think that ship will come before nightfall.¡¯ It was past midday, and Krissintha knew there was going to be another fight before the day was over. ¡®Probably,¡¯ Sini agreed. ¡®Who¡¯s down there?¡¯ ¡®Zivek¡¯s team, with one of Third Rangers¡¯ trainees and the other spiritualist.¡¯ ¡®Good. So we have the numbers. Assault?¡¯ Sini asked. Dimal sighed as he put the spyglass down. ¡®Sure. We just need to wait until they all come out of the cave,¡¯ he said. ¡®Going in there is not an option.¡¯ ¡®Fine with me,¡¯ Sini said, sighing, too. ¡®I wish we could get the fucking ship.¡¯ ¡®Yeah? How do you suppose us landlubbers will do that?¡¯ Dimal grumbled. ¡®Swim?¡¯ Sini said. Dimal just turned his head to give her a stern look. Sini tried to shrug, and said, ¡®I know. Where are the tar-lickers when you need them?¡¯ Krissintha turned to Arde and whispered to him, ¡®Tar-lickers?¡¯ ¡®Uhm¡­ sailors. The navy,¡¯ Arde whispered back. ¡®The sea is a big place. They¡¯re spread thinner than we are,¡¯ Dimal said, clearly not happy with the unavailability of their own navy. ¡®Maybe a kraken will show up and drag them down?¡¯ Sini said, her voice hopeful. ¡®Maybe,¡¯ Dimal mumbled. Krissintha shuddered at the mention of the monstrous sea-creatures ¡ª a kraken was the last thing she wanted to see, even if she wouldn¡¯t be in its path this time, if one really showed up. ¡®Hey, look!¡¯ Sini whisper-yelled. ¡®Someone¡¯s down there.¡¯ Krissintha followed the woman¡¯s gaze, squinting, trying to see what was going on down on the beach. She was sure the elves could see everything just fine, but all she could make out was a moving figure. It wasn¡¯t an ork, that much she could tell. One of the elves, working with the marauders then. The figure walked to almost where the sea began, and climbed on the top of a boulder the size of a wagon. Then it just stood there. ¡®He¡¯s got the spyglass. Can¡¯t be long before that ship comes,¡¯ Dimal commented. ¡®We need to make a move as soon as they all come out. I want to capture one of the greens alive,¡¯ he continued, and wriggled forward a little to be able to look at Krissintha over Sini, who lay between them. ¡®Your familiar will be able to find out where the bastards came from, how many of them, and so on?¡¯ Damn right I will. Kevin chimed in all of a sudden, startling everyone. I have a few ideas how to make them talk. Any objections against some ¡­ soul-torture? This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡®Not if it¡¯s barbarians,¡¯ Sini answered without hesitation. Good to know, because they will regret the day they were born. Kevin said, his ghostly voice ringing more sinister than ever in Krissintha¡¯s mind. She thought about it for a single moment, and concluded she had no problem whatsoever with inflicting pain on the green bastards. They were slavers, not even people but monsters. But there were elves among them, too, which was, or should have been a different story altogether. ¡®What about the elves?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®Why are elves working with the barbarians?¡¯ ¡®They¡¯re not working with them. They¡¯re slaves,¡¯ Dimal said, his voice low and angry. He nodded his head to indicate the one down on the beach. ¡®Probably born and raised as a slave. Serving the barbarians is all they know. They are elves only in body. The best we can do for them is kill them.¡¯ ¡®If there are captives on the ship that¡¯s coming, it would be better for them if a kraken showed up,¡¯ Sini said, her face in a grimace of rage. ¡®The greens breed their slaves. That¡¯s why they try taking more women than men. I don¡¯t even want to imagine it.¡¯ Krissintha didn¡¯t want to imagine it either. Maybe a kraken would really be the best thing for the captured elves. If Kevin hadn¡¯t been there, death would have been the better choice for those children, too. She wished there was a way to get on that ship when it arrived. Kevin liked eating souls, didn¡¯t he? He could handle a shipload of barbarians, even the spiritualists. Probably. Maybe. But getting on the ship was impossible, wasn¡¯t it? Impossible. Was it really? Krissintha closed her eyes and hung her head for a few moments, letting her mind wander from memory to memory until the one she was looking for surfaced. She lifted her head and said, ¡®Listen, I think we can get on that ship.¡¯ ¡®Listen, if we try to swim there, their archers will pick us off before we could even touch it,¡¯ Dimal said. ¡®No, no, no, that¡¯s not how,¡¯ Krissintha said, the idea getting clearer in her mind. ¡®What then? Take their dinghies when they come to shore? Same thing. We¡¯ll be killed before we reach the ship,¡¯ Dimal argued. ¡®Not that either,¡¯ Krissintha said, shaking her head. Where are you going with this, Krissy? Kevin asked. ¡®So, when I was about four or five years old, some people wanted to remove my father from his seat as a baron. I remember the story. He knew someone was plotting, but he didn¡¯t know who or how to find them. So, he baited them into kidnapping him, and when they did, then he knew who they were. It was a trap of course: my father was a spiritualist, like most of his retainers.¡¯ ¡®Alright Misery, thank you for the great childhood story, but how does that help us?¡¯ Sini said, sneering at her. Krissintha sneered back at her, but the woman couldn¡¯t see it under her mask. ¡®We let some of us be taken,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®The orks will take us right to the ship.¡¯ Krissintha felt a bubble of guilt forming in her chest. This would put Kevin on the spot for the second time today, but she was willing to do it regardless. But this whole affair of innocent people being taken against their will, being dragged away to become slaves ¡­ she couldn¡¯t stop the memories of her own family being dragged away from surfacing, or the memory of Jevan handing her over to a ship captain as mere merchandise. It¡¯s way too dangerous. Kevin protested immediately. There¡¯s no guarantee we¡¯d even make it to the ship. Let¡¯s focus on the cave, eh? ¡®It¡¯s a stupid fucking idea,¡¯ Sini snarled, agreeing with the spirit. And it seemed this was the end of the discussion, but Dimal spoke up before Krissintha could. ¡®Wait, wait, wait,¡¯ the man said, turning on his side so he could see Krissintha. ¡®Maybe it¡¯s not.¡¯ ¡®Are you mad?¡¯ Sini demanded. ¡®Misery, can your familiar handle a whole ship filled with barbarians? There might be hundreds of them,¡¯ Dimal said. Krissintha opened her mouth to answer, but Kevin spoke first, this time sounding contemplative instead of dismissive. I don¡¯t think we¡¯d be facing them all at once. Ships have a lot of decks and rooms and holds and whatnot, right? he said. ¡®That¡¯s correct,¡¯ Dimal said, nodding, a vicious smile appearing on his face. Oh, come on, are you serious?¡¯ Sini cried out as quietly as she could, staring at Krissintha. ¡®There is no guarantee we¡¯ll succeed, and if we don¡¯t, we lose the ship and the people in the cave, too. Do you really want to risk it? We should save the ones we can and leave the rest to the navy.¡¯ Dimal sighed, scratching his face, but to Krissintha¡¯s relief, he wasn¡¯t going to give up. She began to feel considerable respect for the man. He stretched his neck to look at Krissntha again. ¡®The only one who has a chance to do this is you,¡¯ he said to her. ¡®Are you absolutely sure you and your familiar can do this?¡¯ ¡®She can¡¯t,¡¯ Sini whisper-yelled, her face red, close to exploding again. ¡®Come on, sir, did you not see my familiar eating a barbarian¡¯s soul?¡¯ Krissintha argued with her. ¡®No, no I did not,¡¯ the woman screeched. ¡®Neither did I, ¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®But answer this: what would happen if an evil spirit suddenly appeared on a crowded ship?¡¯ ¡®Everyone would die, I imagine,¡¯ Sini said, furrowing her brows, looking like she was actually thinking about it this time. ¡®And what was it you asked me when you didn¡¯t see my familiar eating the beast¡¯s soul?¡¯ Krissintha asked, then added, ¡®Sir?¡¯ ¡®You said he wasn¡¯t an evil spirit,¡¯ Sini said, glaring at her. ¡®Exactly. But if I ask him nicely, he could pretend to be one and treat that barbarian ship as a dinner party.¡¯ Actually, I¡¯m beginning to like this idea. Kevin stated, changing his mind, sounding like a starved man salivating in front of a table stacked with all the food in the world. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure if the statement and tone of the spirit were helping, but ¡­ she smiled under her mask as scout-master Sitanel-Niraki¡¯s expression changed. She was considering it, wasn¡¯t she? Seriously considering it. Krissintha didn¡¯t want to set foot on the barbarian ship. Of course she didn¡¯t. Who would? But she knew she would regret it if she didn¡¯t even try to help the people whose prospect had been reduced to a life of slavery. She could stomach a lot of things, she could forgive herself for a lot of things. This wasn¡¯t one of them. If unleashing an evil spirit on a ship full of people was what needed to be done, then that was what she would do. She was sure Kevin liked the elves enough to help, even if there wasn¡¯t a soul-feast involved in the matter. Scout-master Sini finally gave up ¡ª she hung her head into her hands as she lay next to Krissintha, letting out a muffled scream of exasperation. Then she looked at Dimal first on one side of her, then at Krissintha on the other. ¡®So, shall we start planning, then?¡¯ Dimal asked. *** Krissintha was as impressed as ever by the speed and efficiency of rangers. They had dragged all the dead orks they had killed as close to the cave as they safely could, all in less than an hour. The plan was to make the second group of barbarians find their slain cohorts, making them believe they had run into a ranger patrol and got themselves killed just before reaching the cave. Krissintha¡¯s part was to be the kidnapped woman who had been thought dead by the elves and left behind. Sini, Dimal and Havan agreed that a human woman was a fairly believable thing to find ¡ª a number of cities in Solace had humans, and dead orks told no tales. Krissintha wasn¡¯t keen to play this part, but the whole operation had been her idea, and she knew she had to suck it up and do it. There was only one problem. ¡®So ¡­ you need to take your clothes off,¡¯ Sini told Krissintha as the rangers finished laying out the greenskinned corpses in a manner that resembled the aftermath of a fight. Krissintha looked at the elf, scowling at her. ¡®Why?¡¯ she asked, then added, ¡®Sir?¡¯ ¡®Humans are one thing. A human wearing ranger gear is another. I wouldn¡¯t buy it,¡¯ Sini said, shrugging. ¡®Oh,¡¯ Krissintha said, because that was all she could think of. You know, I still have the dress Deni gave you. Kevin chimed in. Krissintha swore silently. She didn¡¯t want to undress or change ¡ª she had been wearing her ranger attire, the heavy, green robe and her sword for half a year now, and she just knew she would feel naked and defenseless without them. On top of that, she wasn¡¯t sure if Deni wanted that dress back, but she suspected some damage to it would be inevitable in the process of being kidnapped by a bunch of green brutes. But, again, this had been her idea in the first place, so she didn¡¯t have much of a choice. Deni¡¯s dress it was. ¡®Fine,¡¯ she said. Her mask vanished from her face, and the light blue dress appeared in her hands. She hoped the fine piece of clothing would make it back in one piece. Chapter Fifty-three Chapter Fifty-three I was in two minds about this plan. On one hand, I was worried about Krissy. Being imminently thrust into the midst of who knows how many orks and their slaves, some of them probably spiritualists, wasn¡¯t exactly the kind of thing you¡¯d put down on a life-insurance application. I wasn¡¯t even sure if it was safe for me either. Just what was she thinking, coming up with such an idea and then volunteering to do it? On the other hand, the anticipation was killing me; a ship full of people was going to be the kind of feast I couldn¡¯t help but look forward to. I mean, when was I going to get another opportunity like this? My Tentacle Horror instinct was singing with joy, and I was singing along. Well, it was what it was. In a moment of weakness, I had agreed to this, and even if I hadn¡¯t, I was going with Krissy anyway. ¡®Looking good there, boss,¡¯ Kitala Iwani commented, grinning ear to ear, looking down on my favourite host as she was lying on the rocky ground, one of the dead ork¡¯s legs placed across her waist, making it look like as if the green bozo had fallen on her in its moment of glorious death. The dress was already covered in ork blood and beach-dirt, so on top of dealing with the pirates, we also needed to find a suitable replacement at some point, to avoid Deni¡¯s wrath. I wasn¡¯t sure which was the more pressing issue. ¡®Please don¡¯t call me that,¡¯ Krissy groaned at Kiwa, squirming and fidgeting under the heavy leg pinning her to the ground. Kitala Iwani ¡ª and of course Tilry ¡ª stood over Krissy, along with the entire trainee team, as well as Dimal, Sini and Havan. ¡®All set? Can we leave? The barbarian could come out again any moment,¡¯ Sini urged the gang. ¡®Your disguise. You need to put it on,¡¯ Tilry reminded me, Kiwa and I the only ones able to hear her. ¡®Yep, I got it,¡¯ I replied, and I brought the old costume out of the Spirit-Room. I coiled up my tenties the best I could so they would fit into the arms, the head and the torso of the costume, and voila, I was once again the ugly, acne-riddled familiar spirit that had managed to fool Sivera¡¯s spiritualist, just barely. It would have to do. ¡®Be careful,¡¯ Arde said to Krissy. ¡®Keep talking to us, alright? ¡®Get our people back! No mercy,¡¯ Hisa added, and the expression on her face made me think she might have been wishing she was the one going. ¡®I will,¡¯ Krissy assured her, and I could tell she was serious about this. Timo just nodded to her without saying a word, but coming from him it looked like the highest order of approval. Krissy tried to nod back, but laying on the ground under a ton of ork, she didn¡¯t quite succeed. ¡®We will be watching,¡¯ Dimal said, twirling the large spyglass around in his hand, and it was finally time for everyone to leave us to be ork-bait. *** ¡®Are you okay? Try not to squirm so much,¡¯ I said to her. The bastard¡¯s heavy. The reply came from the trapped, writhing human civilian Krissy had become. And it stinks! I had not felt or smelled anything for the past three years or more, so it was somewhat difficult for me to sympathize with her plight. If the rangers were right in their speculations, the barbarian elf should be coming out again soon to check if their ship was here or not. I hoped it would happen soon; it was only early afternoon, and Krissy didn¡¯t seem to enjoy being stuck under a dead ork¡¯s leg. The rangers were watching us, laying low and hiding on top of the cliffs. Form their vantage point, they would see immediately if there was movement on the beach, in front of the cave. Krissy and I were some fifty metres from there, far enough that even if there had been a fight, those hiding in the cave wouldn¡¯t have heard it, but close enough for an elf ¡ª even of the barbarian variety ¡ª to notice the bunch of bodies that had not been there before. He¡¯s out of the cave. Dimal announced through the voice chat, after about half an hour of waiting. And ¡­ he¡¯s looking ¡­ and looking ¡­ and he noticed the dead orks. Is he coming this way? Krissy inquired, suddenly done with her squirming and wriggling. No, not yet. He¡¯s going back to the cave. Probably to tell his green friends about it. Dimal conveyed the ongoings as he saw it. They¡¯ll be back, so try not to fuck this up! Doing my best, sir. Krissy replied, rolling her eyes at the scout master. I sincerely hoped his great, elven eyesight wasn¡¯t good enough to see it from the cliff-top. But he was right: we couldn¡¯t afford to fuck this up. So we waited for the elf to come back and bring company. Said company manifested about ten minutes later, taking the shape of two extra large orks. Dimal warned us as they stomped out of the cave, following the elf, beelining to us. Krissy stiffened, then relaxed, then went stiff again, and finally, with a few deep breaths, she managed to calm down and look like the semi-conscious victim she was supposed to be. And just in time. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The barbarians kicked up a small cloud of sand and tiny rocks as they slid to a halt next to us. Krissy kept her eyes closed and tried to breathe evenly, not moving a muscle. I, on the other hand, was ready for anything. My invisible tentacles hovered in the air, poised to strike the elf and two orks, in case they decided to kill the human instead of taking her with them. Well, nothing of the sort happened. One of the orks kicked into the corpse of its fellow marauder, just to check if it really was dead. They couldn¡¯t have seen it, but I could tell Krissy nearly let out a yelp as the dead body slid almost completely off her. Then they proceeded to check the other bodies, looting them for their weapons and some knick-knacks they had been wearing. Then a short, orkish conversation followed, one that sounded like two bears growling and huffing at each other. That language ¡ª if it was a language at all ¡ª was thoroughly incomprehensible to me, yet their pet elf seemed to have understood them. Somehow. I supposed the guy had grown up hearing it, so maybe it wasn¡¯t that surprising. To my relief, the baddies decided that a human slave was better than no slave at all, and they barked some orders at the elf. He immediately produced a weird-looking shackle from his bag, made of wood and thin rope, and fiddled it onto Krissy¡¯s wrists. It¡¯s working. They¡¯re taking you prisoner. Dimal commented in a matter-of-fact tone, probably watching us through the looted spyglass from a distance as safe as possible. Really? I haven¡¯t noticed. Kevin? Krissy thought-yelped, sounding more than just worried, but staying in character and emitting only a weak groan befitting of a half-awake person being shackled. ¡®I can cut you free any time, don¡¯t worry.¡¯ I assured her as the elf finished putting the restraint on. Then I nearly plunged a tentacle into the pointy-eared fucker to suck his soul out ¡ª he slapped Krissy, and not gently at all, like a normal person would, trying to wake someone up. He slapped her real hard. Krissy let out a combination of a yell and a cough. Her eyes sprung open, her cheek reddened, and she glared at the elf. But he just stood there above her, looking at her impassively. Then one of the orks barked something at him again. It was an order. The elf grabbed Krissy by the shackles and pulled her to her feet. Fuuuuck! Krissy swore without a word leaving her mouth. This actually surprised me. Krissy rarely swore, and when she did, it was always something mild, like ¡°hell¡± or ¡°bastard¡±. She was a lady, or so she had claimed on a number of occasions, and she considered foul language something that was beneath her. Even during the harshest training sessions Toven and Fenar had put her through, I had only ever heard her utter anything resembling a curse once or twice, and never something like ¡°fuuuuuck¡±. ¡®You okay?¡¯ I asked. Pins and needles. Krissy said, her legs nearly buckling under her. The barbarian elf caught her, preventing her from falling back to the ground. Oh, pins and needles. I remembered those with not a small amount of sudden nostalgia. Before Krissy¡¯s legs had a chance to restore normal blood circulation, the orks decided their business here was done, turned around to leave, and ordered their slave-elf to drag us with them. *** Are they alive? Sini¡¯s thoughts came to us as our second minute inside the darkness of the cave began. Of course they¡¯re alive. They¡¯re taking them to be slaves, they won¡¯t kill them. Dimal answered the question for her, but from the tone of his thoughts I got the feeling he was voicing his hopes, rather than confidently stating it. We passed through the mouth of the cave, then a narrow tunnel, and finally we arrived to a wider space, almost like a rugged, stone room, where the rest of the occupants waited. Dimal was right. Three civilian women, and a man who wore ranger gear, minus the weapons. Alive. The women had their hands in the same type of shackles as Krissy, but the greenskinned lowlifes had decided to not give the man even the slightest of chances, and had tied him up with at least a mile¡¯s worth of rope. The poor sod couldn¡¯t move a toe. The captured elves were laid out on the hard, wet, uneven cave floor, like pieces of meat in an unplugged, melting fridge. They dumped Krissy right into a puddle of water next to one of the women. She landed with a thud, and a barrage of of her curses echoed in my mind. I supposed being a lady didn¡¯t count for much in a situation like this. The orks were standing or sitting around, eating and making noises ¡ª presumably chatting ¡ª leaving the guarding of their prisoners to their own elves. By the look of it, neither the orks nor the elves had trouble seeing in the almost complete darkness, because none of them seemed to have thought it necessary to light a torch or a lantern, or something to provide some light. I could see relatively well in the dark, probably better than either orks or elves, but at the little light that managed to seep in, I couldn¡¯t determine the colour of the captive ranger¡¯s cape, and therefore which ranger regiment he belonged to. Krissy probably couldn¡¯t see anything at all, having inferior human eyesight, so it fell to me to inform Dimal and Sini about the contents of the cave. ¡®So ¡­ they¡¯re alive,¡¯ I began. ¡®They are either sleeping or unconscious, or just dead tired, but they¡¯re all breathing. Six of the green fucks, and two elven slaves. That¡¯s about it.¡¯ Listen, Spirit-man, can you kill them? All of them? And get our people back? Sini asked, or pleaded, I wasn¡¯t sure. Dimal chided her immediately. Not the plan, Sini, not the plan. The ship. That¡¯s the plan. He said to her through the voice-chat, but I imagined he said it to us as well, as the two of them were probably right next to each other up on the cliff-top. It¡¯s not too late, Dimal. Do we have to risk losing those people for something that might not work at all? Let¡¯s save the people we can right now. Let the Navy deal with the ship. It¡¯s their job. Sini argued, using the voice-chat intentionally, so we could hear her, too. Probably. Without modern communication equipment like radios, ranger teams had a lot of autonomy, and I liked their ability to make important decisions on the spot without much oversight from the higher-ups. Teams were given overall objectives, and it was up to the team leaders to decide how to best achieve those objectives. But right now, one of the team leaders were having second thoughts, and since both of them were scout-master second rank, I wasn¡¯t sure whose word would be final. I was a hundred percent certain runners were on the way to inform that aide of what was going on, but the fact was that it was Krissy and I who were in a position to actually make a decision and do anything. ¡®Krissy, what do you think?¡¯ I asked Krissy, knowing everyone on the voice-chat could hear us. I think the ship is the better choice. She said, the disdain for the marauders evident in her tone. Well, whatever hell you¡¯re going to give them, you¡¯ll be giving it very soon. Arde chimed in all of a sudden. I can see a ship. They gave you the spyglass? Krissy asked, amused. They did. Arde said, sounding proud of himself. As if on cue, one of the orks grunted something to one of the slave-elves, and the guy stood up and left the cave for a regular scanning of the horizon. Arde was right. It was now or never. That kind of settles it, doesn¡¯t it? I said. Ship? Dimal asked. Ship. Krissy and I replied together. Damn! You¡¯d better make this work. Sini grumbled through the voice-chat, her thoughts filled to the brim with trepidation, and just a pinch of hope. ¡®You can count on it,¡¯ I said with all the confidence in the world. Chapter Fifty-four Chapter Fifty-four Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain should have been having second thoughts about what she was doing. No part of her wanted to die, no part of her wanted to risk being taken to some ork-riddled barbarian lands to be a slave. Who would want that? Not her, that was for sure. Yet, she wasn¡¯t having second thoughts. She wanted to do this. To get on that ship, and to destroy the lot of them as thoroughly as possible, risk be damned. She had Kevin, and together they would see this through, she was sure of it. After an hour in the darkness of the cave ¡ª maybe even two hours ¡ª as the barbarians dragged the prisoners out to the beach, it felt like the late afternoon sun stuck a pair of knives into her eyes and twisted them for good measure. She tried to lift her shackled hands to shield her eyes, and her reward for the effort was one of the barbarian elves hissing at her and shoving her forward. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she looked around. The three captured women marched next to her ¡ª they had the same, simple restraints on their hands as she had. Young, beautiful, worn, battered, their bodies covered in more bruises than the tattered remnants of their clothes could hide. Krissintha swore silently. If this was how raiders treated their prisoners, she shuddered to think what awaited them on the ship, and in the barbarian land. One of the women, the one walking right next to her, lifted her head, glancing at Krissintha. They locked eyes for a moment. Pain, despair and maybe a tiny speck of hope ¡ª that¡¯s what Krissintha saw in the almost golden, bloodshot eyes of the woman. The sole man among the captives, a ranger, was tied up so tightly that one of the orks had to carry him on its shoulder. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure if the man was conscious or not. Can you see us? Krissintha asked, sending her thoughts out to her comrades. Yes, we¡¯re watching you. Dimal replied. Two rowboats are coming, they¡¯re almost at the shore. Is the ranger ¡­ still alive? Krissintha sneaked a peek at the ranger on the ork¡¯s shoulder. The green marauder marched a few paces in front of her, the man like a sack of potatoes on its shoulder, but she couldn¡¯t tell if he was alive. I can¡¯t tell. Krissintha said. He¡¯s alive. I can see him breathing. Kevin reported. Do you know him? I can¡¯t tell from here. Maybe. Dimal said. Listen, when you get on the ship, there may be more captured rangers. They could help, if they¡¯re in good enough shape to fight. Or they could freak out when Spirit-man starts eating the crew. Sini joined in, and Krissintha was sure she could hear the woman rolling her eyes. But she had a point. Let¡¯s get there first and see what the situation is. Then we ¡­ will ¡­ Krissintha started to say, but she was suddenly unsure how to finish the sentence. There was that word Kevin liked to use, and it was the last thing she wanted to utter. Improvise? Kevin offered the word. Because of course he did. Yeah. Krissintha said, making great effort not to sound disheartened. Do what you have to do. Dimal said with an encouraging tone. The rowboats reached the shore. Six humans and a green each with a lot of room to spare. Krissintha lifted her head, stretching her neck, looking in the direction of the sea. Even with the green barbarians in front of her, blocking the view, she could see and hear the commotion as the boats ran aground. I see them. So ¡­ this is it. Krissintha said, and she almost gulped. This was really it, no turning back. Good luck. Dimal and Sini said to her. Pirate ship, here we come. Kevin hummed, almost happily. *** Ah! This smell! Unbearable. Krissintha complained, wrinkling her nose. See? This could easily be you if you skip your baths whenever you don¡¯t feel like moving. Kevin scolded her. The source of the stench weren¡¯t just the orks, although they certainly contributed. The six human slaves working the oars were in a state Krissintha could only compare to some of the poorest beggars she¡¯d seen back home, living on the streets, probably not even knowing what a bath was. She wasn¡¯t sure if she should feel sympathy for the men, or just view them as barbarians who would eventually need killing. Krissintha was sitting between one of the captured women and the tied-up ranger, on an obviously ork-sized bench-seat, right in the middle of the rowboat. The woman was the same one who had looked at her before, the one with the brownish yellow, almost golden eyes. She was staring at her own feet, trembling and sobbing quietly. The ranger ¡­ well, Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure if the man was fully conscious. His face was bloodied and swollen, and she couldn¡¯t even tell if his eyes were open on not. She leaned a bit forward and turned her head, partly in hope that the breeze over the sea would help her endure the stench, and partly to see the other two elves in the second boat. The other boat wasn¡¯t far, maybe twenty paces or less, and she could see the two women, sitting there in the oppressive company of the rowing men and the laughing, greenskinned monstrosities. Krissintha looked ahead. The barbarian ship was in full view ¡ª it wouldn¡¯t take long to reach it now, ten minutes maybe. How many more prisoners do you think are on that ship? Krissintha asked Kevin. We¡¯ll see when we get there. More important question: how many spiritualists are on that ship. The spirit replied. We¡¯ll see when we get there. Krissintha said, sighing loudly while sending the thought. The elf woman lifted her head, glancing at Krissintha. Then she whispered to her in Treini. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡®We will be rescued. I¡¯m sure of it,¡¯ she said, the words barely audible. The golden eyed woman may have remembered that most humans didn¡¯t speak Elvish, but she had certainly forgotten that most humans also didn¡¯t have hearing as great as elves. Under the circumstances, it was the least of Krissintha¡¯s worries. She looked around ¡ª if any of the barbarians had noticed, they weren¡¯t bothered by their prisoners mumbling between themselves. ¡®I have no doubt,¡¯ she whispered back to her. *** Krissintha gawked at the barbarian ship as the two, small barges touched its hull, finally arriving at their dreaded destination. She had only seen a few ships in her life, had been on even fewer, but none of them even resembled this monstrosity, besides the fact that they were ships. People ¡ª humans or elves ¡ª were climbing up and down on the rigging. On the hull, not far above the waterline, a row of windows stretched almost from bow to stern, and if she wasn¡¯t mistaken, the tips of oar blades were sticking out of those windows. ¡®What kind of ship is this?¡¯ Krissintha whispered, looking up at the masts and stowed sails. Wow! It¡¯s a galley. Kevin said, sounding quite amazed. Krissintha tried to remember if she had heard the word before ¡ª she had heard enough sailor talk from Quenta and Tommi, but never the word ¡°galley¡±. As far as she was concerned a ship was a ship, even if it was a strange looking one. What¡¯s a galley? She asked, unwanted, badly timed curiosity welling up in her. A giant rowboat, basically. Just like in Ben Hur, but this is bigger. Much bigger. I bet there¡¯s an ork with a drum to set the rhythm for the rowers and yelling¡°ramming speed¡±. I understood ¡°giant rowboat¡±. Krissintha said, rolling her eyes. The galley had a number of metal handles along the hull ¡ª the human slaves used them to pull the barge along to the stern of the galley, the other boat¡¯s crew doing the same, going the opposite direction. After a minute they stopped under two, thick beams sticking out above them from the top deck. Or was it called quarterdeck? She couldn¡¯t recall. Krissintha saw someone up there, fiddling with something at the end of one of the beams. A crane to pull the small boat up. Four, thick ropes or cords with hooks came down. And a rope-ladder. The orks in the barge stood up, bellowing something at their cohorts up at the deck, then without any warning they grabbed their would-be-slaves, Krissintha included, threw them over their shoulders, and climbed up to the ship. They were on the deck before the crew could even begin hoisting the barge up. As soon as the stinky ork put her down, she took a look around. She didn¡¯t have much time to soak in the sight ¡ª the orks quickly handed their prisoners over to three humans and an elf ¡ª but she saw enough. This ¡°galley¡± was long, perhaps a hundred paces from front to back. No, even longer. But it was narrower than she¡¯d expected. Weird ship, sized for orks, and orks were plenty. There must have been forty, maybe even fifty of the greens on the deck: all of them armed with bows or axes, some of them better dressed and barking orders at crew members, some just lazing around a fire in a metal brazier ¡ª which seemed like a dangerous thing to have on a ship made of wood. Slaves were just as numerous: humans and elves alike were rushing up and down, working with ropes, climbing the two masts, or doing things of indeterminate purpose. Before she could get to counting them, their new jailers marched them to a hatch near the back. Are you on the ship? I can just about see them pulling the dinghy up. Krissintha heard Dimal¡¯s thought-voice as two of the slave-crew went down the ladder, and another one nudged her to get going. Being in the midst of enemies, it was strangely comforting to know that someone was watching, even if from a mile away through a spyglass. I¡¯m on the ship. She reported. They¡¯re going to leave as soon as they haul the other boat up. Dimal warned. That soul-guzzling orgy you were planning? Do it fast! Got it. She replied, and she stepped on the ladder before the elven slave behind her could push her. She wished she had felt as confident as she sounded. Kevin? She asked, hoping for some encouragement, as she clambered down the ladder as awkwardly as someone with tied hands could. The spirit was silent, not a word. She almost fell to the floor as she arrived on the deck below. The stench of sweat and piss overwhelmed her in an instant, and she could barely resist as the urge to throw up ambushed her. She managed to look up, retching, her eyes tearing up, and for a moment she was unable to understand what she saw. The rowers¡¯ deck. The grilled ceiling and the openings for the oars let enough light in to see the hundred ¡­ no, two ¡­ no, at least three hundred human slaves, sitting in long trenches on either sides of a raised walkway running from back to front. Five rowers clinging onto each oar, almost naked, fidgeting, murmuring, poisoning the air with their smell. A few elves were walking up and down between them, wearing little more than the rowers, cloths tied around their painted faces, whips in their hands. And there really was an ork with a drum. The green bastard sat somewhere in the middle, leaning against a thick support post, large drum in front of him. It wasn¡¯t the only one: in a hammock between two other posts, just a little behind the drummer, lay another one, seemingly asleep. The woman with the bright, yellowish eyes arrived behind Krissintha, stumbling off the last rung of the ladder. Krissintha caught her. The woman looked at her, then quickly covered her nose and mouth with both her hands. Then the two human slaves came, carrying the tied-up ranger down with as little care as possible. Krissintha would have expected Kevin to comment, but he was still silent. Maybe one of the orks was a spiritualist and he didn¡¯t want to draw their attention? That must have been it. The man behind her barked an order. The closest rowers turned their heads as they heard him, their chains clanking, giving the man looks of hatred and disdain. Perhaps there was some sort of hierarchy even among the slaves? Some of the words their captors spoke were clearly Treini. She recognised the words ¡°down¡± and ¡°go¡±, but the rest was not only foreign to her, but harsh and gruff, similar to how his ork masters spoke. She looked down at a large hatch, leading down to the deck below. Or was it called the ¡°hold¡±? As soon as they were down in the hold, Kevin whispered. Huh. No spirits down here. Good. But man, three of them up top on the quarterdeck, and the one snoozing in the hammock has a familiar, too. They were all looking at me funny. And? Krissintha asked, suddenly worried the orks¡¯ familiars might be a more immediate problem than she had expected. Nothing. My costume is on and I was quiet, so all good. For now. Kevin whispered his report. Four spiritualists? Can you handle that? Sini¡¯s worried thoughts came through. We¡¯ll see soon. Kevin answered her. How soon is soon? From what I can see the other boat is up now. Dimal cut in, sounding as anxious as Sini. Soon is soon. We need to see where they¡¯re taking us. There will be more of your kidnapped people there. Kevin said. Krissintha agreed. No one knew how many elves the marauders had managed to kidnap, but they had been raiding for almost two weeks now. Somewhere in this long and dark part of the ship elves were waiting for a rescue. Only a few, sturdy looking glass paned lanterns provided any light along the passageway. One of the humans and the one elf marched Krissintha and the golden eyed woman towards the middle of the hold, the other two humans were dragging the ranger after them. Crates, barrels and sacks of all kinds lay stacked along the hull on both sides. Lumps of dried meat hung on strings from the beams overhead, all along the way. Then, they reached their destination. Krissintha could only see dark silhouettes, but she had no doubt they just found all the captured elves this ship had taken. At least twenty of them hung from the overhead beams by their shackled hands, their feet barely touching the floorboards. Most of them women, some of them men, a few children, all of them naked. The fucking marauders hung them up like larger pieces of dried meat, or freshly slaughtered animals in an abattoir¡¯s storeroom. But they were alive ¡ª Krissintha could hear their faint groans and whimpers. The elf woman with the golden eyes gasped in horror, stopping for a moment as she saw the scene. The punch she received to her belly from the barbarian elf sent her to the floor. There was laughter. Two people came forward from the hanging forest of slaves, pushing them aside, leaving them swinging and groaning. Krissintha could just about make out the long, pointy ears of the two newcomers, or guards, or whatever they were doing down here. Elves. They were elves. And they were laughing. The ones that had brought her here joined in, cackling like madmen at the most tasteless of jokes. ¡®Kevin,¡¯ Krissintha said out loud, her voice low and raspy, filled to the brim with her fury. Sending thoughts just wasn¡¯t enough. This had to be said out loud. ¡®Kill them!¡¯ With pleasure. Her familiar replied without hesitation. The laughter vanished. Six bodies ¡ª three humans and three elves ¡ª thumped to the floor, as if the gods themselves had struck them down. Chapter Fifty-five Chapter Fifty-five ¡®Kill them!¡¯ Krissy hissed the order. She didn¡¯t have to tell me twice. ¡®With pleasure,¡¯ I purred the words, unable to resist the good mood radiating from my Tentacle Horror instinct. I already had my tentacles hovering mere centimetres from the six absolute assholes, and as soon as Krissy uttered the words, I struck. I plunged my tenties into the three human and three elven souls, pouring a tiny bit of Essence into them, then I pulled ¡ª all in a split second. The six lowlifes collapsed, their souls dangling at the end of my tenties. Served them right. I had never eaten two different kinds of souls at the same time before, but I was fairly certain I didn¡¯t want to mix the flavours. I started with the ones I knew. My tentacles soaked up the three human souls in a few seconds. A minty, toothpaste flavour filled me, just like it had when I¡¯d eaten my first, teal coloured human soul. But unlike when I had eaten Jevan¡¯s soul, back on Misery Island, I felt none of the guilt. To this day I wasn¡¯t sure if Jevan and his familiar deserved to die. Krissy of course insisted they did. But this? Slaves or not, they definitely did. I didn¡¯t want to delve deeper into the concepts of ¡°right¡± and ¡°just¡± any further ¡ª I was sure they applied to the present situation, and sampling elven souls promised to be more interesting anyway. Nice, bronze-coloured elven souls. I took a deep mental breath, then I willed my tentacles to break them down and slurp them up. My spiritual body shuddered, and my metaphorical head started spinning as the taste flooded my entire being. Suddenly I felt like I was floating on a cloud made of cheesecake and cotton-candy. How could these wretched, cruel elves have souls this sweet? It seemed the flavour of your soul really was a result of what you were, not who you were. How many elves were on this ship? Plenty. And Dimal had said he wanted to interrogate an ork, so ¡­ no one would complain if I ate all the elves then, would they? They were so incredibly sweet. Not to mention the EXP. As I had expected, the humans were worth around 40 EXP each. The elves? A whopping 65 EXP came with every single one of their souls. In just a few seconds, I had gained no less than 195 EXP from them, on top of the 120 from the humans, leaving me with just under 1400 to collect in order to reach Level 32. This was a good haul, and the party was just starting. Krissy watched our captors fall to the floor. She knew exactly what was happening, and her mouth curled up in a grin. The elven woman with the yellowish eyes, on the other hand, did not know what was happening. She clambered to her feet, staring wide eyed at the dead humans and elves at our feet, utterly terrified. Some of the naked elves dangling from the beams, the closest ones to us, started fidgeting and making noises. I could even hear some quiet cries for help, but they were too weak to shout or yell. Ah. They must have been like this for days. This was just cruel. ¡®What ¡­ happened?¡¯ the golden eyed woman finally managed to squeak the words, looking around. The more or less conscious, tied-up ranger had almost slumped to the floor along with the humans who had been dragging him along, but he managed to steady himself. He, too, was stupefied by the sight at first, and it took him a couple of seconds to realise what he was seeing. He was a ranger after all, so people dropping dead without any visible reason wasn¡¯t an unknown phenomenon to him. The ranger looked at Krissy, then looked at the expired bodies of our captors, then back at Krissy. ¡®Spirit kill,¡¯ he croaked. ¡®Damn right,¡¯ Krissintha grinned at him. ¡®And there¡¯s more where it came from.¡¯ ¡®Damn right,¡¯ I agreed, also grinning. Internally. What¡¯s happening? Talk to us! Dimal pleaded. All the captives are down in the hold. We killed a few of the orks¡¯ slaves. Krissy reported. Good. Any chance the barbarians could still hold them hostages against you? Dimal asked. ¡®We¡¯ve got this. We¡¯ll talk later. We have work to do.¡¯ I interrupted because I could hear footsteps from the direction of the hatch we had used to get down here. The ranger must have heard it, too, for he turned to look that way. ¡®Krissy, they¡¯re bringing the other two women.¡¯ ¡®Hide! Now!¡¯ Krissy ordered the woman and the ranger. The ranger didn¡¯t hesitate this time; tied-up as he was, he moved, hopping to the side to get behind a pile of sacks. ¡®Come on, woman, hide!¡¯ he called out to Miss Goldeneye, his voice cracking. She somehow broke out of her befuddled state, and rushed to join the ranger, hunkering down with him, out of sight. Krissy hid behind another stack of barrels on the other side of the walkway. I willed a little Mana to the tip of one of my tenties, just an MP¡¯s worth, shaping it into a small, sharp blade, then cut through her restraint with a single swing. The pieces fell to the floor as she peeled them off, and my favourite host was free. Right. How many? She asked. I quickly stowed my familiar-costume back into storage. Now unrestricted, I stuck a tentacle through the barrels and counted the approaching meals. Oh, pardon me. Foes. Two humans and an elf had just descended the ladder, and started marching the women towards the middle of the long and wide hold. The hatch was at least twenty metres away, but event at this distance I could see the barbarian elf getting his grubby hand under one of the prisoners¡¯ skirt. I could see the poor woman¡¯s terrified face. She tried to walk faster, away from the pointy-eared scumbag, but he grabbed her by the back of her neck, forcing her to walk at his pace. ¡®Three of them. I¡¯m going to eat them as soon as they¡¯re close enough,¡¯ I stated, the boiling anger inside me giving way to a calm, cold and quite murderous mood ¡ª one hundred percent approved by my Tentacle Horror instinct. Do it. Krissy agreed without any hesitation. I readied myself for them, my tentacles poised to strike. But the elf stopped some fifteen metres away. What the hell? Oh. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. It was dark down here, only a few lanterns here and there providing any light. But he was an elf, and as such, his vile character was paired with excellent eyesight. Of course he could see his fallen cohorts; we had bloody left them out in the open, right in the middle of the hold, the view unfortunately unobstructed by any of the posts, beams or boxes. Damn. I¡¯d been called dumb before, but this took the cake. The elf pushed the women aside and drew his sword. Actually, it looked more like a machete. He then gestured to the humans to turn around, pointing at the ladder at the hatch. Oh, no you don¡¯t! ¡®Krissy, get some Mana and run at the bastards! Now!¡¯ I screamed at her in a panic. ¡®Just do it!¡¯ She didn¡¯t question it, she just did as I instructed her ¡ª I might have to thank Master Fenar for hammering the soldier-like mentality into her. She leaped out from behind the barrels, blue flickers of Mana coming and going around her legs for a moment, and she shot out towards the enemy like an Olympic athlete who may or may not have been doping. She was there before the humans could take more than a couple of steps towards the hatch. And that was all I needed: proximity. Before the elf even had the chance to raise his machete-like weapon, my tentacles were holding three souls. Their bodies quickly realised that this was the end of the line for them, and collapsed. Krissy nearly fell on her face as she slid to a halt, fighting inertia and letting Mana go and dissipate. She managed to balance herself. ¡®Gah! This is starting to hurt,¡¯ she complained aloud, panting and massaging her thighs. ¡®You drew too much Mana. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s good for your muscles,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®We¡¯ll need to practice this sometime,¡¯ she mused, still panting. ¡®Sure, we will, but we need to get the bodies as far from the hatch as we can.¡¯ I said. The last thing we needed was someone taking a peek down and alerting the whole ship. No, we were not going to make this mistake again, not on my watch. Krissy straightened herself and looked the two, stunned elven women in the eyes, one after the other, and said, ¡®Alright ladies, help me drag the bodies away from here!¡¯ *** Krissy and the ranger ¡ª now free of his restraints ¡ª finished stuffing the nine bodies behind the numerous crates and barrels along the hull in a matter of minutes. The man didn¡¯t talk, he didn¡¯t ask questions, not yet ¡ª he agreed that time was of the essence. Any minute someone might have the bright idea to send someone down here to check why hanging out the new slaves to dry was taking so long. The three women watched us quietly, and if I was any judge, they were almost as terrified of the weird spiritualist as they were of the orks and their slaves. Except Miss Goldeneye. She seemed a little braver than the other two. It didn¡¯t matter; things were going relatively well. I was another 120-ish EXP closer to my next level, only about 1200 to go. Maybe less. Oh, if I could eat even just a quarter of the rowers on the deck above! It would be easy. They were chained down, no way for them to escape. I had a hard time stopping my Tentacle Horror instinct from drooling all over my soul. The little bastard was way too excited. At Krissy¡¯s request, I produced the two daggers I had looted from her old and ill-fated retainer, Jevan. She gave them to the ranger and Miss Goldeneye, so they could start cutting their fellow, captured elves down. The two other women, finally having something they could help with, sprung into action, pushing smaller crates for them to stand on and cut the ropes. While that was happening, Krissy hid herself behind an enormous barrel. She took Deni¡¯s once nice and blue dress off, folded it, and I took it into Jack¡¯s Room. I was pretty sure it was still salvageable. I took out her ranger gear, and few minutes later she was no longer just some random human woman the orks had caught, but a ¡­ hm, well, she wasn¡¯t exactly a ranger. She was ¡­ something. Our new friends had already taken five of the naked, weakened and starved, filth-covered elves down, and were working on cutting the next one loose. Lucky for them, I had come prepared. Well, not for this particular occasion, but I had been collecting and storing some necessities such as food, water and tea, ever since Krissy started her training, worrying about where her next meal would come from. I never would have imagined I¡¯d be feeding almost thirty, thoroughly mistreated elves on a galley. I took out bowls filled with jerky, bread and some vegetables, one after the other, placing them on a smaller crate, then jugs of water and still steaming Earl Grey tea. I even brought out some medical supplies like bandages and salves I¡¯d nicked whenever Krissy was close enough to certain store-rooms and no-one was looking. The ranger, Miss Goldeneye and the others gazed as the provisions magically appeared in front of them out of thin air, as if they were in a dream. Krissy froze and her jaw dropped when I took out a few mugs so the poor sods could have a proper cup of hot tea or some water. She picked up one of them, a green mug with white zig-zag lines for decoration, and held it up in front of her face, squinting at it. Isn¡¯t this Toven¡¯s mug? His favourite mug? From his house? She thought-screamed at at me. ¡®Uh ¡­ maybe? Why?¡¯ I said, trying to feign ignorance while realising I might have made a mistake. How could you? He¡¯s not going to kill you because he can¡¯t, he¡¯s going to kill me. Krissy wailed. ¡®Oh come on, I bet he hasn¡¯t even noticed it.¡¯ I argued. ¡®And we can tell him it was for the greater good. Just look at them!¡¯ Krissy looked at Miss Goldeneye as she poured tea in the other cups, giving them to the elves who were already down from the ropes. Oh for fuck¡¯s sake you two, less bickering more rescuing! The ship¡¯s leaving. I can see the oars moving. We heard Sini¡¯s agitated words through the voice-chat. She was about to explode again, wasn¡¯t she? ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ the two of us barked as one. Krissy then turned to the ranger and Miss Goldeneye and beckoned them closer. Jevan¡¯s sword, please. Krissy asked for the weapon. I placed the long, straight-bladed weapon into her hand, and she gave it to the ranger. He took it without a word ¡ª had his face not been that swollen, I was sure I¡¯d have seen a nice, baffled expression on it. ¡®Alright, listen, get everyone down from the ropes, then hide,¡¯ she told them. ¡®Push the crates around and make some room if you have to, but hide. I¡¯ve got to go, so if anyone comes down here, you know how to use a sword.¡¯ The ranger just nodded without saying a word. Well, he was a ranger; taking orders from a superior officer was what he did for a living, and Krissy was acting like an officer. Miss Goldeneye, on the other hand, had something to say. ¡®You can¡¯t leave,¡¯ she squeaked, looking at Krissy pleadingly. ¡®The ship¡¯s leaving. Got to stop it,¡¯ Krissy stated, and gave her a lopsided smile. I instantly recognized her cruel and confident ¡°Island Queen¡± persona. ¡®Earlier you said help was coming, and you were right. Mostly.¡¯ she told her, then spread her arms a little as if to present herself, not only to her, but to all the elves suddenly watching her. ¡®Help isn¡¯t coming. It¡¯s here.¡¯ It was a good performance. She should have been an actor. Everyone was staring at her, a few of the elves smiling, even those who were still hanging from the ceiling but were close enough to see her. Except Miss Goldeneye. I wasn¡¯t sure if she was just worried ¡ª and rightfully so ¡ª or if she had become a pessimist since we¡¯d arrived on the galley. ¡®You ¡­ want to go against a whole ship? Alone?¡¯ Miss Goldeneye wailed, stepping closer to Krissy. I concluded she was worried, and not even about herself, but Krissy. ¡®She¡¯s a spiritualist,¡¯ the ranger spoke for the first time. ¡®And not the usual kind.¡¯ The woman looked at the ranger, then back at Krissy. ¡®But ¡­ this is a ship. We¡¯re trapped. With hundreds of them,¡¯ the woman squeaked. She wasn¡¯t wrong: big ship, lot of bad guys. But she had just seen nine of them falling like flies already, not to mention magically appearing food and drinks. It wasn¡¯t that we needed to convince anyone of anything. What we needed to do was our job, to stop the ship from leaving. But ¡­ a small, theatrical display before we left the elves couldn¡¯t hurt. I took Krissy¡¯s own sword out of Jack¡¯s Room together with the misery mask. I placed the sword in her hand, and I lifted the mask to her face and fixed it in place, then pulled her cape¡¯s hood over her head. The audience gasped as they saw the items appearing and floating to where they belonged. ¡®Alright, say this to Miss Goldeneye, exactly as I say it!¡¯ I told Krissy. She took a deep breath under her mask, and she repeated my words with the most sinister tone she could muster. ¡®No. I am not trapped here with them. They are trapped here with me.¡¯ Chapter Fifty-six Chapter Fifty-six Krissy stopped as the ship lurched. I could hear the muffled sound of the drum from the rowers¡¯ deck above us, the damn ork beating a slow but steady rhythm. The galley was now in gear one; they really were leaving the shores of Solace. ¡®We¡¯re moving,¡¯ Krissy stated, and wanted to break into a sprint to reach the hatch at the rear end of the ship ¡ª the stern, if I remembered the word correctly ¡ª but I stopped her. ¡®What?¡¯ she whispered. ¡®Let me have a look before we go up,¡¯ I said. We were halfway between the hatch and the middle of the hold where we had left the elves. The ceiling wasn¡¯t high, two metres at most, and another half a metre of beams and support structures before one of my tentacles poked through the floorboards of the raised walkway between the rowers¡¯ pits. I moved my spirit-periscope around to get a good look at what was going on up there. ¡®Okay, they¡¯re rowing, and ¡­ damn. The spiritualist ork is out of his hammock,¡¯ I reported my findings, or at least the relevant parts. The rowers, the drummer, and the half-naked elves with whips weren¡¯t that big a problem, but the hammock-ork was massive, and so was its familiar. Those guys had to go, and I was thinking a sneak-attack would be better than to climb up and charge. I told Krissy to move back a few metres. She did, and we were almost directly under where the spiritualist was standing and enjoying the view of the rowers. I wasn¡¯t in the mood to show any mercy, not after I¡¯d seen what they had in store for the people they kidnapped. ¡®Alright, stay still, I¡¯ll try to get the spiritualist,¡¯ I said to Krissy. She just nodded, and I got to work. Another four of my danger-noodles crept up, slowly and carefully, joining the one already spying on the ongoings above us, sticking out just a millimetre. The very orkish-looking, two-armed familiar didn¡¯t seem to notice it as I positioned my tenties under his host¡¯s feet. This was good, this could work. I took a deep, mental breath, and I launched four tenties at the spirit, and one at the ork. I was fast. The familiar was faster. The moment I moved my tentacles the spirit noticed them, and he moved so fast I couldn¡¯t react in time. He only had two arms, ending in hands with fingers. It couldn¡¯t chop off my poor appendages, instead, it caught one, then two, then three, then four and five, all in a single second, like an ugly, invisible Flash. ¡®Run!¡¯ the familiar yelled at his host. The ork roared and burst into a sprint immediately ¡ª there was none of the confusion or hesitation I had seen before from hosts when hearing their spirit-companions talk. The familiar tried to pull my tenties with him as his host whooshed between the rowers. This startled me so much that for a moment I forgot that I was supposed to eat the ork ¡ª I hesitated and it got away. I pulled my tenties back, all of them. They slipped out of the familiars hands, or through them, I wasn¡¯t sure. The half-naked elves of course used their whips to remind the slaves that their business was rowing and not gawking at running orks. And that running ork was going to the quarterdeck now to warn everyone about something strange going on down here. ¡®Shit!¡¯ I swore. ¡®What¡¯s happening?¡¯ Krissy asked anxiously. ¡®They got away,¡¯ I moaned. ¡®Shit! What now?¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t know,¡¯ I said, cursing myself while trying to think of the next step. And I got it. ¡®I hereby nominate you to be the brain of this operation, I¡¯ll just be the muscle.¡¯ Krissy didn¡¯t miss a beat, and started walking towards the hatch, saying, ¡®We need to stop the ship.¡¯ ¡®Right. The rowers?¡¯ I inquired. ¡®The rowers.¡¯ ¡®All of them?¡¯ ¡®As many as you can.¡¯ Krissy was right, of course, and I didn¡¯t have a single objection. This was a galley. Sure, it had sails, and I figured it would be the next thing to disable, but the rowers were the main propulsion. They had to go, and if they had to go, what better place was there for them than my spiritual belly. I was somewhat surprised the way Krissy so readily suggested it, though. I didn¡¯t recall telling her about my Tentacle Horror instinct, so it definitely wasn¡¯t a case of her trying to score points with the strange almost-entity ¡ª which was already drooling. She was being pragmatic, I concluded, wanting to get the job done, the words of scout-master Dimal probably still echoing in her mind just as they were in mine: ¡°the best we can do for them is to kill them.¡± I stretched my tentacles upward again, fully this time. My seven, immaterial appendages went through to the deck above, reaching for seven of the slaves rowing in unison to the beat of the drum. Seven of them collapsed onto the floor of the rowing pits. Then, as Krissy walked on towards the hatch, I feasted on the souls of the slaves ¡ª absorbing them then grabbing new ones. With every step she took, my tentacles could reach more and more of them. Those out of my reach seemed to realise what was happening, and soon enough, their terrified, panicked screams filled the rowers¡¯ deck. *** The galley was a bloody long ship. The hatch leading up to the rowers¡¯ deck was some twenty metres from the spot where my failed assassination attempt had taken place. It took Krissy about twenty seconds to get there. In those twenty seconds I decimated the rowers¡¯ ranks in that stretch, mostly on one side. They were defenseless against my tentacles. Slaves, chained to their spots, unable to flee, just rowing and rowing. I tried to feel guilty about the slaughter I was committing, I tried to feel at least a little bad for those humans, but I couldn¡¯t. Instead, for once, I gave in to the infectiously good mood of my Tentacle Horror instinct, and I reveled in the EXP I was getting. This ship was a great place to be. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. 7 times 40 EXP. Then 4 times 40 EXP. I caught one of the elves: 1 time 65 EXP. Then 5 times 40 EXP. Then 7 times 40 EXP again. Almost a thousand EXP , all in a mere twenty seconds. Whoever said the death of one man was a tragedy, the death of a million statistics, wasn¡¯t wrong. An evil, cruel bastard by any standards, but not wrong. It was easy to think of the rowers as numbers in the EXP column on an imaginary spreadsheet. I was good with numbers. What did this make me? I knew better than to start thinking about it. Just a spirit doing spirit things. I welcomed the sensation of getting full, and by the time Krissy climbed up the ladder and set foot on the rowers¡¯ deck once again, I knew I wasn¡¯t going to level just once. The deck was in chaos. Rows upon rows of slaves shouting and screaming, yanking on their chains trying to break free, their oars abandoned, the bodies of those I had killed strewn about among them. Interestingly, that ork somewhere in the middle of the deck, was still beating its drum, providing the background music for the scene, while a few elves were doing their best to restore order with their whips. The closest of the elves, some ten metres from us, noticed Krissy as she clambered up through the hatch and stood on the deck. I immediately activated Mana-Armour around her. The elf ran at her with an orkish-sounding battle-cry, lashing at her with the whip. Krissy drew her sword. The whip panged off the layer of Mana. The elf drew a dagger with his free hand, and jumped the last two metres, aiming his weapon at my host¡¯s head. Or neck, I couldn¡¯t really tell. The elf clearly wasn¡¯t a trained fighter; his noisy, feral charge looked laughable next to the silent, ranger-style efficiency with which Krissy dodged the attack, then slashed at the man¡¯s neck. She didn¡¯t even use Mana for it, and the elf slumped to the floor, his neck squirting blood, his head half-separated from the rest of him. Another 60ish EXP for me. I was close. Very, very close to Level 32. Just a few more souls, a hundred or so EXP, and I was there. Krissy took a step forward on the raised walkway, holding her bloodied sword up, looking left and right at the screaming slaves in the rowers¡¯ pits. Some of them saw her, some just trying to escape, some dead. Krissy stopped and looked left, as three out of five rowers on the same oar dropped dead, the remaining two freezing up, staring into her misery mask. This was the last 120 EXP I needed. I was full. ¡®Is this necessary? No-one¡¯s rowing, we¡¯ve stopped the ship,¡¯ Krissy asked, her voice calm in a weird way. ¡®No, not for the ship. It¡¯s for me,¡¯ I explained. ¡®We have four familiars up there. I need to be ready.¡¯ ¡®Understood,¡¯ she said, nodding. ¡®Do what you have to.¡¯ She didn¡¯t have to tell me twice. I was ready to grow. Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 31 to Level 32. *** I wanted to grow the basketball sized blob my main body was. I wanted to expand my Spirit Room. I wanted my Essence and Mana pools to grow. I wanted Jack¡¯s Room to ¡­ actually, Jack¡¯s Room was large enough already, and I wasn¡¯t planning to expand it. But no matter how I looked at it, the immediate necessity was tentacles. More and longer tenties. With four spiritualists waiting for us up top ¡ª if not more ¡ª or possibly on the way down here already, I needed more of the wiggly, noodley buggers. My Tentacle Horror instinct was nodding in agreement with all the enthusiasm it could throw at me. Plus, there was enough food lying around that I could level again. That settled it. 2000 EXP¡¯s worth of Soul-Stuff was a substantial amount, and I was one hundred percent sure I could exert some influence on the result of the leveling. So I willed the growth to happen, gritting my metaphorical teeth, steering the unseen process to happen in a certain way. It worked. By the time Krissy took another step forward, my eight tentacles had grown from 5.5 metres to 6.5 metres. This I had expected, and I was happy with it. But the real reward for my mental effort was something else, and it was twofold: my tenties weren¡¯t just longer now, they were also thicker. And the cherry on the spirit-cake? A ninth tentacle popping into existence, joining its eight, older twins. Oh, this was shaping up to be a good day. Although, judging by the the weak, orange light dripping through wooden grilles of the ceiling, the day was coming to an end soon. I had to make the most of it. But first, it looked like Krissy needed some help. *** I didn¡¯t notice that the drumbeat had stopped, not until I saw the drummer barreling towards us, slaloming between the support beams, jumping over oars the slaves had pushed onto the walkway. The green menace seemed to have forsaken his drumsticks in favour of a warhammer so large I was sure neither human nor elf could even lift it, let alone run with it. Behind him trailed another of the whip-wielding, half-naked elves, roaring like a madman. Krissy fell into a defensive stance, holding her sword low, ready to dodge the attackers. She drew on my Mana, willing it to permeate her entire body. I had 38 out of 40 MP in my pool, using 5 MP per minute for Mana Armour, and Krissy using another 4 MP per minute for enhancing her legs. Luckily with nine tentacles Essence collection was even faster now, and I had no problem replenishing Mana for the moment. ¡®I got this,¡¯ Krissy hissed, maybe to me, maybe to herself. I was actually curious to see if she could handle two of the crazed fuckers. I kept four of my tenties free so I could intervene at any moment, and used three others to pick a few souls from among the nearby rowers. 3 times 40 EXP. The toothpaste variety. The three rowers collapsed, their immediate neighbours who were still alive screamed, and the ork and the elf arrived. The ork, running and gargling, swung his giant hammer. Krissy ducked down and slid to one side. That was the correct thing to do; that hammer-blow would have hurt her, or killed her, even with Mana-Armour on. The hammer¡¯s arc was wide, the walkway was kind of narrow. Having missed its intended mark, the hammer smashed into a rower, who was trying to climb out of the pit. He turned into a reddish paste, along with the slave behind him. If not for the chained shackles on their legs, they would have splattered on the hull. That was 2 times 40 EXP for me, without having to work for it, so thank you Ork Drummer. The ork gnarled something as its momentum carried it past us, but his hammer got stuck on an oar. Ork Drummer ended up tumbling into the rowers¡¯ pit about two metres behind us, squashing a few of the humans in there. Luckily my tenties easily reached the souls left behind. 3 times 40 EXP served on a silver platter, just for me. Whip-guy arrived. Krissy moved, not quite as elegantly as an elf, but almost as fast, thanks to Mana. Before the elf could bring either his whip or his dagger to do anything useful, Krissy crashed into him, using her entire weight with a Mana-fuelled leap. Mana-Armour flared blue for a second, and the elf was pushed to the floor with Krissy kneeling on his chest. She flipped her sword around, business end down. The elf screamed one last time, then the sword went straight through his throat, hitting the floorboard on the other side. 65 EXP. Krissy stood, panting, smears of blood on her mask, on her clothes. Ork Drummer was scrambling to its feet, climbing out the puddle of crushed slaves in the pit. He wasn¡¯t the only problem; up on the quarterdeck people were running and shouting. Krissy looked up, but it was difficult to see anything through the grilles. I stuck a tentie through, just a little, and I didn¡¯t like what I saw. The spiritualists were congregating near the hatch leading down to the rowers¡¯ deck. All four of them. Not good. ¡®The spiritualists will be here any moment,¡¯ I announced. ¡®What do we do?¡¯ Krissy demanded. Ork Drummer finally climbed out of the pit, covered in slave-blood. It stood, it roared, it readied its warhammer, glaring at Krissy. And an idea popped up ¡ª the result of a joint effort of my own mind and of a grinning Tentacle Horror instinct. ¡®I¡¯m going to possess the green fucker.¡¯ Chapter Fifty-seven Chapter Fifty-seven I had only seen the local equivalent of possession once. The image of the giant, spiritual spider-crab was still clear in my mind, its legs lodged into the souls of elves, not just connecting to them, but merging with them and puppeteering their zombified bodies. Not a pretty sight. But, with some arguably powerful foes on the way to meet us, I thought having a mindless, half-dead ghoul of my own could prove useful. Something to throw between us and the enemy. ¡®Do it fucking fast!¡¯ Krissy whisper-yelled as Ork Drummer finally made its move. I obliged of course. I had a tentacle in the green wanker¡¯s soul before it could take a step. 20 EP¡¯s worth of Essence wire spread out inside it, connecting to every single node in its soul. I sent a pulse of will along one of the wires, to the node located in its head. That pulse of will contained the words ¡°drop it¡± along with an angry undertone for good measure. My Tentacle Horror instinct had assured me it would work, and it did. By the time it lifted the hammer to strike Krissy down, I was in control. Krissy jumped back, anticipating the weapon coming down, but the hammer thudded on the floor, cracking the wooden boards, and the enemy did not move. The facial expression of the ork was difficult to decipher. It could have been a smile of pure happiness or a mask of rage. Whadda fuggen gankshit? The ork immediately lamented its newfound inability to move. The thoughts I was hearing probably corresponded to the series of grunts it let out. Loud. Very loud. Well, if it could still yell obscenities, then it wasn¡¯t immobile enough, so I doubled down on the poor, green sod, and willed it to shut its mouth, and made it lift an arm, just to test it out. Its body moved jerkily as Ork Drummer tried to resist, but in the end, my will superseded its own. This wasn¡¯t like Critter Control, this was a new skill. This was Possession. Playing with ants had been a long time ago. Ants had so few nodes in their tiny souls that even without this kind of possession they would generally just follow instructions much more readily than the green oaf. But resistance was futile. Up on the quarterdeck, the four spiritualists just about made up their minds to descend on the ladder. They were lining up archers, aiming at the hatch, probably a precaution in case it wasn¡¯t them coming back up. Their familiars were looking at the floorboards of the deck, searching for my tentacles. I retracted the one I was using to spy the moment one of them looked its way. I¡¯d seen enough anyway. They were coming, and we had to be ready. Down here, I noticed that by now it wasn¡¯t just the Essence wires connecting me to the green fellow. My tentacle¡¯s blue colour was bleeding into the ork¡¯s green soul. It was beginning to look exactly like how the evil spirit had been controlling the elves, but ¡­ I didn¡¯t feel like anything special was happening. My body seemed to know how to do this on its own, so I let it. Whadda ¡­ grrr ¡­ fuggen ganks ¡­ Its thoughts were still there, but weaker, or quieter. At this point I had to concede that orks were ¡­ persons. Probably. Maybe it was time to start saying ¡°he¡± instead of ¡°it¡±. But I didn¡¯t let that deter me from my plan to give them a worse kind of hell they were planning to give us. My Tentacle Horror instinct seemed to be happy with this, and was keen for me to try out my new meat-puppet. ¡®Alright, you¡¯re my bitch now, drummer-boy,¡¯ I yelled at it. ¡®What the hell are you doing? Is it possessed yet? Do I run? Do I attack?¡¯ Krissy demanded, more in annoyance than fear or confusion. She was like that ¡ª focused and determined. The confusion, the breakdown and the crying would come when everything was over and done with. When it was safe. Until then, she was a soldier, tough as nails. My dear Island Queen. ¡®I¡¯m controlling it now. Say hello to my little friend!¡¯ I said, and I made Ork Drummer turn around and wave at Krissy with one of its ginormous hands. I thought it might lighten her mood. ¡®What now?¡¯ Krissy squeaked, absolutely baffled. ¡®Come on,¡¯ I encouraged her. ¡®Hello,¡¯ Krissy sighed the word, waving back at the possessed monstrosity, as jerkily as if she was possessed herself. Oh, she did not appreciate this, did she? It was worth it though. A possessed ork of course didn¡¯t help calm the rest of the rowers down. Their renewed and thoroughly futile attempts at escape made the deck sound like a concert hall full of men, screaming for encore while rattling chains. And the rowers¡¯ deck was long. We were closer to the hatch at the back of the ship than to the middle, and I wasn¡¯t even sure if the slaves or their slave-drivers on the other end knew what was happening or not. Then the time to experiment ¡ª or to make jokes and references only I could understand ¡ª ran out. *** The first of the greenskinned spiritualists didn¡¯t so much as climb down the ladder than dropped down, like some sort of special forces commando. He landed in a heroic pose, the floorboards making a crunching sound under him, then he sprung into a sprint towards us, waving a giant meat-cleaver. The second one dropped down right behind him, holding something that looked like a mace. Neither of them were the hammock-spiritualist that had made a run for it. Not that I could really tell orks apart ¡ª they looked kind of the same to me ¡ª but I could tell the familiars were different. These ones had arms ending in giant, sharp-looking claws instead of hands. These guys were in the spirit-killing business, or at the very least, looked eager to get into it. Krissy hissed and lifted her sword as she fell into a defensive stance, drawing on more Mana, increasing the 4 MP per minute to 7. On top of that I was still keeping Mana Armour on for 5 MP per minute. That was fine for now, and it seemed only two of the orks were coming down, the other two opting to stay on the quarterdeck for some reason. Orks obviously weren¡¯t built for speed; they were green tanks made of muscle and bag language. But add a spirit to the mix, and suddenly we had two of them whooshing towards us like the Grinch on steroids on Christmas Day. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it But I just so happened to have an ork of my own, right at the tip of my tentacle. I willed Drummer to jump in front of the first spiritualist and deliver a punch. My puppet moved like a ¡­ puppet with tangled strings. The punch didn¡¯t happen, but he turned out to be an excellent roadblock. The walkway wasn¡¯t too wide, three metres at most. At the speed our first opponent was running, he couldn¡¯t dodge my ork in time, and crashed into him. They tumbled to the floor, rolling towards us. That was one problem temporarily solved. The other problem simply leaped over them, and he was in front of us, his mace in a downward ark to smash Krissy to bloody bits. His familiar slashed at me as his host swung his mace. I shot four of my tenties at it ¡ª two to block his arms, and two to coil around his neck. Krissy jumped back, fast as ever, the mace missing her by an inch, then she immediately sprung forward, her sword aimed at the beasts neck. I lost a portion of one of my tentacles to the familiar. He just sliced a third of it off. It hurt, but it was nowhere near fatal. The meat-cleaver ork was already up, my puppet¡¯s face bashed in, his brain probably scrambled because he wasn¡¯t reacting to my orders. My little friend didn¡¯t last long, did he? Krissy tried to stab at Mace-Ork ¡ª he parried it with his mace with incredible speed, pushing Krissy back. His familiar struggled to keep my three, intact tentacles off him. I had to launch the rest of my appendages at Meat-Cleaver-Ork and his familiar, thus dividing my attention between them. That¡¯s when I saw the third and fourth spiritualists. I¡¯d been called dumb before. More than once. I was beginning to think there might have been some truth to it, because how could I have not realised that the hatch at the back of the ship wasn¡¯t the only one. The other two spirit-riddled orks landed on the walkway somewhere near the middle of the ship, using another hatch, and were rushing for us. For Krissy. ¡®Behind us!¡¯ I yelled, almost in a panic. That was the wrong thing to do. Krissy turned her head to look. Of course she did, and it was my fault ¡ª I had distracted her. A normal ork might not have been fast enough to take advantage, but with Mana induced speed, Mace-Ork was in a good position to deliver a right hook with his free hand, and he did so as fast as lightning. I just about managed to double the Mana protecting Krissy a split second before the giant fist connected to the invisible Armour. The hit sent Krissy flying to the side like a rag-doll, bouncing off the hull and falling into the rowers¡¯ pit. For a terrifying moment that was both short and almost an eternity long, I thought this was the end of her. I couldn¡¯t recall if I¡¯d ever been this scared in my life. Then Krissy breathed in, she wheezed, then squealed once, blood from her nose covering the inside of her mask. Holy shit and thank fuck she was alive. I wouldn¡¯t have forgiven myself if she had ¡­ I didn¡¯t want to form the word in my mind. It was too scary. The slaves in the rowing pit grabbed Krissy¡¯s arms and legs the moment she landed, holding onto her, pulling on her, as if she was an oar. A few of them even bit into her, but Mana Armour was still there. Bloody savages! I was going to eat the lot of them from the start, but there was a tiny part of me, a very tiny part of me, that had been objecting the plan. Well, it wasn¡¯t objecting any more. The two spirit-fuelled orks, Mace and Meat-Cleaver, stepped to the edge of the walkway, lifting their weapons to strike at her again. This was bad. Krissy groaned in pain, unable to move. I wasn¡¯t even sure if she was conscious. Another two spiritualists arriving in a few seconds made the situation even worse, and all my tentacles were already tied up in a weird fencing match against the bladed arms of the two spirits in front of me. Oh. Of course. This looked very much like the tactic the rangers had used against the evil spirit: surround it, immobilize the host, then get rid of the spirit. ¡®How the fuck did this thing get here?¡¯ Mace¡¯s familiars sputtered the words as he fought four of my tentacles. His host jumped into the pit, crushing a slave underfoot. ¡®Don¡¯t know. Sivera said the elves got rid of it already!¡¯ the other familiar groaned, fighting to fend off my tentacles. Sivera? Eternal mortal enemy-slash-rival of Wensah? This was a worrying development, but I didn¡¯t have the time to worry. Regardless of who they ¡°worked¡± for they were fast, and the other two were on the way, almost here in fact. Protecting Krissy was something I absolutely had to do, and ¡­ had no chance of doing. Unless ¡­ A long time ago, there was a war. A legendary battle. The Ant-God¡¯s chosen, a hero named Jack, found himself surrounded by enemies on all sides. The hero fought valiantly, and when all seemed lost, the Ant-God unleashed his power to strike all foes on behalf of his chosen. I poured everything from my Pool into the Mana-Armour around Krissy ¡ª around 45 MP¡¯s worth of the stuff ¡ª and I willed it with everything I had to expand out in all directions, all at once, with the force of an explosion. ¡®Eat this you cunts! Mana-Blast!¡¯ I yelled. The result was ¡­ disgustingly glorious. This skill really was my trump card. Everything around us turned into a murky vapour, containing bits of wood, flesh and bone, spreading and splashing in all directions. At least a dozen of the rowers disappeared, if not more. Mace and Meat-Cleaver didn¡¯t stand a chance either. The pit-floor suddenly wasn¡¯t there, and the hull developed a hole the size of a car. I quickly transferred all 64 EP from my Primary Essence Pool to replenish the Mana Pool, getting 32 MP for it. Much better. Krissy fell through the hole, down into the hold below. The floor of the hold was a good three metres down. I wrapped two of my tentacles around her in a split-second, pointing four others down, my Mana-Glove skill sucking at least 10 MP out of the pool, coating all of them. I held her tight as gravity did its deplorable work, but instead of the hard, wooden boards, she landed on a springy pile of coiling, Mana-coated tentacles. Phew. That was close. I gently put her down, making sure I didn¡¯t change the position her body was in. I wasn¡¯t a doctor or an expert, but I had done a first aid course once, and one of the things I remembered was to move the patient as little as possible if there was a chance of a spine injury. I wasn¡¯t sure, but I didn¡¯t want to take the risk to make things worse for her. She was breathing and wheezing. Her eyes were blinking under her mask. She was alive. Properly alive. I simply couldn¡¯t find the words to express how happy that made me. I would have shed tears of joy if that had been possible. I quickly reached up to the rowers¡¯ deck with two tentacles. I had to check what had become of the four spiritualists. Mace and Meat-Cleaver were gone. Their bodies were no more, and I just about caught the last of their souls turning black and then vanishing along with the two familiars. Bloody hell! That was fast, a lot faster than with Tilry and Kiwa. Was it maybe because Kiwa¡¯s soul had been attached to her body at the time? I couldn¡¯t even get a tiny sample of the Black Essence. But there were two more of the spirit-powered orks, so I turned my attention to them. The other two spiritualists hadn¡¯t been completely out of the blast radius of my manasplosion, but they survived. And they had chosen to run. Well, running was a charitable description of their limping scramble towards the hatch in the middle. The rowers. At least four rows of them were gone in this trench. Twenty-one of them. Their teal-coloured souls hovered in place where their bodies had been in their moments of death. I kept two of my tentacles with Krissy, checking her body for broken bones and other injuries. My six other tenties gobbled up the souls of the rowers. 840 EXP. I now had over a 1100 EXP and that was a good start. The 3200 EXP to Level 33 didn¡¯t seem that distant of a goal. But Krissy was priority. Dislocated shoulder, a broken arm, twisted ankle and probably concussion. I didn¡¯t feel qualified enough to start rummaging around inside her body ¡ª it was dark in there, so I used only a tiny bit of Mana on my tenties to look for signs of internal bleeding. Luckily I didn¡¯t find any, and nothing struck me as life threatening. Serious, painful, but not life-threatening. Oh, my dear Krissy! I had never been this pissed in my life. I was angry at myself partly for letting this happen, but most of all, I felt a burning hatred for the barbarians. No mercy! This ship is going down! Seawater splashed into the hold from the car sized hole above. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean it literally, you bastard!¡¯ I yelled at the ship, shaking a couple of tentacles at it. ¡®You stay afloat, you hear me? Krissy is here.¡¯ The ship just groaned like large wooden structures usually did. Typical. But damn. That hole in the hull was ¡­ unfortunate. It seemed to be above the waterline, but any hole in a ship was an unwanted occurrence. A few of the slaves who were lucky enough to be outside of my Mana-Blast, managed to free themselves. Three of them were peeking down the hole, cheering when they saw Krissy lying in the hold, injured and unmoving. Oh, just you wait! Chapter Fifty-eight Chapter Fifty-eight Krissy blinked a few more times, then her eyes remained closed. ¡®Krissy! Krissy! Talk to me!¡¯ I screamed at her, poking her face with a tentacle, but no response. What¡¯s happening? Dimal demanded, sounding as panicked as I felt. ¡®We ran into every spiritualist on board all at once. She¡¯s hurt. And unconscious,¡¯ I reported. Fuck! Can she carry on? ¡®No. But I can,¡¯ Alright. Good. They¡¯re unfurling the sails. It will be slow, but they can still get away. And ¡­ there¡¯s a hole in the ship,¡¯ Dimal said. It was probably a question that he wanted an answer for. ¡®I¡¯ll handle it,¡¯ I said, and I shut his voice out of my mind. The ranger and Miss Goldeneye came rushing to investigate the boom and the brand new hole letting in the last of the sun¡¯s light ¡­ and of course water. It wasn¡¯t a lot of water, but on a ship any amount was probably cause for concern. They slid to a halt when they saw Krissy, lying on the floor, surrounded by wet debris. Miss Goldeneye gasped, holding her hands to her mouth. The ranger immediately knelt next to Krissy, putting Jevan¡¯s sword on the floor, and began examining her. That was it! He was a ranger. Not a trainee, but a full-fledged ranger. I didn¡¯t hesitate. I drew a few EPs and some Mana, and worked the substances into a thread in a matter of seconds. Then I stuck a tentie into his soul, and attached the thread to the node inside, connecting the man to the voice-chat. The man was trying to take Krissy¡¯s mask off, unsuccessfully, when he felt something wasn¡¯t right. He stiffened and stopped moving. ¡®You¡¯re a ranger. You know how to treat injuries, right?¡¯ I asked him, removing the mask and putting it back to Jack¡¯s Room at the same time. The ranger jumped up, grabbing the sword, looking around for a threat, scaring Miss Goldeneye in the process. A few of the rescued elves were also coming this way, no longer naked but wrapped in all sorts of rags they must have found or taken off the dead barbarians. ¡®Who are you? Where are you?¡¯ the ranger growled, still looking around. ¡®I¡¯m her familiar,¡¯ I said, and I took out my last bag of medical supplies from Jack¡¯s Room, dumping it at his feet. ¡®Can you treat her? Her left lower arm is broken, shoulder¡¯s not quite right. One of her ankles¡¯ twisted. I don¡¯t think there is any internal bleeding.¡¯ The man stopped looking around, his widened eyes on Krissy¡¯s unconscious form. ¡®A spirit,¡¯ he whispered. Miss Goldeneye heard him and started looking around in a panic, clutching her hands in front of her chest. In my experience, people who weren¡¯t used to talking to spirits needed some adjustment period, but I was running out of patience. ¡®Can you or not?¡¯ I demanded. ¡®I ¡­ can,¡¯ he said, nodding. Spirit-man, who the hell are you talking to? Sini¡¯s voice came, demanding an answer. ¡®Sini? Scout-master Sini?¡¯ the ranger looked around again, grabbing his head with both hands, clearly not accustomed to hearing voices in there. Miss Goldeneye was looking at him as if contemplating whether the man needed psychiatric care or not. ¡®Yes, it¡¯s Sini, but she can¡¯t hear you speak,¡¯ I said to the man. ¡®What¡¯s your name, ranger?¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ I¡¯m Tomaron Astar, scout, first-class,¡¯ he replied. I imagined his training was kicking in, because he straightened himself, as if reporting to one of his superiors. Well, he had just heard Sini¡¯s voice, so that made sense. I told Sini who the man was. Oh, Tomas? Is that you? Man, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alive. Sini¡¯s thoughts came, radiating joy and relief. Listen, do what the spirit tells you. Treat the injured woman. She¡¯s a spiritualist, her name¡¯s Misery. She¡¯s with us. ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ Tomas replied, kneeling down again next to Krissy. He waved Miss Goldeneye over, saying, ¡®Ferin, help! Open the bag and look for gauze!¡¯ Miss Goldeneye, or Ferin, did as she was told and began rummaging through the contents of the elven first-aid kit. I glanced at the gathering elves, quite a few of them now, even some of the children among them. They kept a healthy distance of at least three metres from us. Some of them were watching Tomas and Ferin, some of them looking at the hole in the ceiling and the hull above us. Quite a few rowers gathered around the hole in the floor, those whose chains no longer had anything to chain them to. One of the whip wielding elves appeared, too, looking down into the hold, then barking orders at the slaves. This was a golden opportunity for me, but as the rowers began to obey the elf, that opportunity was going to pass quickly. I stroke Krissy¡¯s face with a Mana-Gloved tentie. After a long, mental exhale, I ripped the Essence wires connecting me to Krissy out of all the nodes in my body. The jolt of pain I felt inflated my anger even more. I stuck a tentie into the closest of the barbarian elves on the rowers¡¯ deck. ¡®Tomas! I¡¯m going up there and murder every single one of them,¡¯ I said to the ranger while dumping every weapon I had in Jack¡¯s Room onto the floor next to him ¡ª a spear, a couple more daggers, a few kitchen knives, a human sized meat-cleaver, and a number of wooden bars that could be used as clubs. The elves just stared at the pile of weapons with wide eyes. ¡®You guys treat her injuries and protect her with your lives. She¡¯s the most important person in the world. Got it?¡¯ The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡®Uh ¡­ yeah. Got it,¡¯ Tomas replied, still looking around. He beckoned more of the spectating elves to come closer. They came and armed themselves. Tomas turned back to look at Krissy¡¯s face and said, ¡®But ¡­ you¡¯re a familiar. Can you even move without her?¡¯ ¡®Just watch me!¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ can¡¯t see you,¡¯ he stated, somewhat confused. ¡®Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake, just take care of her and leave the rest to me!¡¯ I snapped at him. The man nodded, and got back to treating Krissy, telling Ferin how to assist. The barbarian elf I had picked was walking away from the hole. I injected a metric fuckton of Essence into his soul before he was out of range. The man stopped, his body beginning to tremble as the Essence spread in his soul, connecting me to every single node he had. And with that, he was possessed by a familiar who had just entered ¡°full evil spirit¡± mode. Anchored to a soul now, I pulled my body up to the rowers¡¯ deck, settling slightly above my new puppet. I spread my eight free tentacles out in every direction, and I got down to my gruesome work, my Tentacle Horror instinct cheering me on louder than ever. *** The entire rowers¡¯ deck was in an uproar. The dozen or so rowers, whose chains no longer held them to the pits, were being whipped into submission by three barbarian elves, mine excluded. The rumbling cries and shouts of the still restrained slaves must have been deafening to material creatures with actual ears. My puppet finally stopped shaking as I took full control over him. My tentacle¡¯s blue colour began to bleed into his bronze soul, merging together into a mud coloured mess. I took a single second to observe it, and I could suddenly sense a fraction of the agony the elf was experiencing, I could even hear an echo of his internal screams. Served him right. The moment passed, and I turned my attention to the wretched barbarians before me. I flung three of my tentacles at two slaves and the elf who was busy whipping them. They fell dead the moment my tentacles touched them. I didn¡¯t worry about mixing flavours this time ¡ª I consumed the three souls in a second, and ordered my puppet to start moving. He tried to resist, but my will overwhelmed his, and his body obeyed my orders. One shambling step, then another, and he got into a weird, jerky rhythm, walking towards the other end of the deck. And with every step, I collected my dues in lives and EXP. I raised one of my tenties to have a look around the quarterdeck. The two spiritualists were there, standing on a raised platform at the bow, talking frantically to a huge ork with a tricorn hat barely fitting his large head. The captain of the galley, maybe? It didn¡¯t matter. They were up there, I was down here, and currently no-one was close enough to stop me. I retracted my tentacle and I ate. And I ate. And I ate some more. Ten metres into my trek between the rowing pits, and it was getting quiet behind me ¡ª dead slaves didn¡¯t kick up much of a fuss, did they? The live ones in front of me? They didn¡¯t have a snowball¡¯s chance in hell. They cried and shrieked louder and louder, yanking on their chains to the point their ankles were bleeding. I recognized some Treini words in there, begging for help or for mercy, but I was fresh out of those. But I had to take a moment. I was full. Fifty-something human souls and a couple of elves did the trick, giving me 2200 EXP, easily reaching the threshold of roughly 3200 EXP for Level 33. I was ready to grow for the second time today. Looking at the thirty or so metres ahead, I wasn¡¯t worried about choosing my main body this time ¡ª plenty of food for a third round. Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 32 to Level 33. 4500 EXP to next level. Roughly. My body grew from the size of a basketball to a large, inflatable beach-ball with a diameter of at least 40 centimetres. Maybe a bit more. A respectable size. My main Essence Pool¡¯s max capacity expanded from 68 to 72, and my Mana Pool from 40 to 44. My Secondary Essence Pool remained the same at 35, so did Jack¡¯s Room and the Spirit Room. They would all require some active building work on my part, but I felt there was room for them now. And there was still food. So much food. My Tentacle Horror instinct was swimming in an overflowing pool of ecstasy as I counted almost two hundred slaves, alive and chained down, their souls ripe for the picking. The remaining few elves had fled of course ¡ª they were all up on the quarterdeck now, complaining to their masters about the ongoings down here. It didn¡¯t matter, I¡¯d get to them eventually. For the time being, an entire deck was just waiting for me. *** Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 33 to Level 34. About 5700 EXP to next level. It took another hundred and twenty of the rowers to get full again. 4500 EXP. It sounded like a lot, but in a nutrition-rich environment like this, all I had to do was to make my possessed elf walk at a steady pace, and my tentacles did the rest. I couldn¡¯t even call them ¡°little buggers¡± any more, not after I had opted to extend their length again, making them 7.5 metres long. And following the universal truth of ¡°the more the merrier¡±, I now had ten of them instead of nine. Despite everything, this was shaping up to be a nice and productive day. My Tentacle Horror instinct was like a dog with a bone, urging me to march on and collect the remaining sixty or so souls on the deck. I was inclined to do just that, when a voice interrupted the party. Kevin, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing, but they have just dropped the barges down. Dimal informed me. ¡®I¡¯ll have look, just wait a second,¡¯ I said to him. I stuck my new tentacle through the ceiling to look around the quarterdeck, and another one through the hull, so I could confirm the news. It seemed the orks had a new plan. In a stunning display of orkish bravery, they turned tail and ran away. Well, rowed away. The barges were already on the water, filled to the brim with orks, and among them sat the two spiritualists, working the oars as if their life depended on it, their familiars looking back at the ship and the single tentacle sticking out of the hull. Damn. They were too far for me to do anything about them now. This was a disappointing turn of events. A sensible thing for them to do, but ¡­ disappointing. Good-bye Black Essence, until next time. ¡®Well, I killed two of the spiritualists, the other two probably decided to call it a day. They¡¯re fleeing,¡¯ I grumbled. So I take it the ship is under your control? Dimal inquired, sounding hopeful. ¡®Almost,¡¯ I replied, looking around the quarterdeck with my tentie. The spiritualists may have got away, but those rowboats were small, so plenty of barbarians of all sizes and colours remained to serve as a consolation prize. I felt tempted to go back to Krissy. I really wanted to check on her, but ¡­ there wasn¡¯t much I could do for her, mostly on account of not being a doctor. Besides, there was no way she wouldn¡¯t be alright, because ¡­ she was Krissy. My Krissy. And all the assholes on this ship bore the collective guilt of hurting her. They¡¯d pay. So, next stop: the quarterdeck. ¡®Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, scout-master Dimal, I¡¯ll go and say hello to the captain of this ship, if he¡¯s still aboard.¡¯ *** As it turned out, possessed ghouls weren¡¯t made for climbing ladders. By the time we shambled to the nearest hatch, the poor sod was a twisted wreck. At this point I was pretty sure my tentacle was the only thing keeping his soul in his body. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t climb the ladder in that state. Luckily, such mundane things as ladders and climbing weren''t the only way for a capable evil spirit to get around. I sent a tentacle to have a look upstairs, and I liked what I saw. The barbarians were considerate enough to surround the opening with a few archers and some slaves holding spears, or some other kind of spiky pole weapons. My recent level-ups gave me enough reach to grab onto the closest of the ork archers. I said a quiet goodbye to my worn down puppet, and ate his ragged soul while injecting some essence into the ork. Then I pulled myself up to him. The reaction of the nearby barbarians as my new puppet shrieked and dropped his bow, was fast. They all jumped back and ran as if a volcano had just erupted in their midsts. Damn, they were fast. I only managed to catch three of them, an ork and two humans. It was still a 180 EXP total, and looking around the quarterdeck, there was more of it to be collected. But first things first, I took a look at the masts. I was somewhere in the middle of the ship so the mast closest to me was the¡­ hm ¡­ main mast? Was that it? I¡¯d have to ask Tommi or Quenta ¡ª sailoring was their thing, not mine. The triangular sails had been unfurled already, human sailors ¡ª or slaves ¡ª all over the rigging, doing whatever it was they were doing. Now, what to do about it? I had chopped down smaller trees before, and I guessed a long wooden pole with some cloths on it wouldn¡¯t be much of a problem. I gathered Mana along one of my tentacles, willing it to form an invisible blade at the end of the appendage, and I ordered my new, green puppet to head for the mast. Chapter Fifty-nine Chapter Fifty-nine Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain felt fine. Right until she tried to move. As she did, a sudden, sharp pain travelled through her entire body. Her eyes shot open as she screamed, the world blurring and spinning. The pain then settled and made itself comfortable in her left arm, pulsing and burning diligently. Shadows moved, reaching for her, holding her down, speaking words she understood. ¡®Stay still, don¡¯t move!¡¯ one voice said. A man, perhaps? ¡®You¡¯re awake! You¡¯re awake!¡¯ another one cheered, not quite whispering, but not too loudly either. This one ¡­ sounded like a woman. Krissintha closed her eyes and let her mind work through the fog of pain, untangling a mess of recent memories. It all came back to her, well, most of it did, right up to the moment a giant, green fist had sent her flying. But after that, it was a blank space. ¡®Kevin! What happened?¡¯ she whispered, her chest and her throat protesting the action of using them for more than a bare minimum of breathing. Her familiar didn¡¯t answer. Kevin? Are you okay? She tried again, sending thoughts this time. The spirit was quiet. No. He wasn¡¯t just quiet. It felt like the thought couldn¡¯t find the way out of her mind, bouncing around instead. What the hell? What did that mean? She tried again, but it was the same; the unsaid words intended for the spirit had nowhere to go. Kevin wasn¡¯t there. Krissintha blinked a few times to clear her vision. Dim, yellow light seeped through a large hole in the ceiling. That was strange, there weren¡¯t supposed to be any holes there. She was also certain she heard water falling and splashing somewhere near her. Two faces stared down at her. She recognised them: the ranger and Miss Goldeneye were standing over her. She turned her head slightly. The floor was way too close ¡ª she must have been lying on her back. A murmur ran through the small crowd of elves standing behind the ranger and the woman, watching her, apparently amazed that she was alive. She was kind of amazed, too, and she was sure it was thanks to Kevin one way or another. But where was he? There was no way he could have been defeated or killed by some familiars, was there? No. No way. Not Kevin. ¡®My familiar. Have you seen him?¡¯ she croaked, looking at the ranger, then at Miss Goldeneye. The man scowled, but before Krissintha could correct the mistake she knew she had made, he said, ¡®I ¡­ uh .. he¡¯s a spirit. I can¡¯t see him at all.¡¯ ¡®Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡¯ Krissintha snapped at him, then she calmed herself. She breathed in with some difficulty, preparing to rephrase the question, but the man spoke. ¡®He spoke to me, though,¡¯ he said, his scowl deepening. ¡®He said something about going up there and murdering everyone.¡¯ ¡®He ¡­ he left me?¡¯ Krissintha gasped. Suddenly she felt alone. He was her familiar. He wasn¡¯t supposed to just leave her. Not even for a murder-spree. She tried to sit up, determined to go right after the unruly spirit and give him a good tongue-lashing, but the moment she tried to move, she fell back screaming. Something was broken there, both an arm and an ankle, she was sure of it. The sudden, throbbing pain in her head wasn¡¯t a good sign either. ¡®Help me up!¡¯ she barked at the two elves through gritted teeth. ¡®You can¡¯t be serious,¡¯ the woman hissed, kneeling down next to her. ¡®Look!¡¯ Krissintha looked where she was pointing, straining her neck so she could see it. Her left arm was in a splint, her right leg and foot were bandaged, too. A loud, cracking or crunching sound came from above, accompanied by the muffled screams of men. It sounded like a tree breaking and falling while a group of lumberjacks celebrated the event. Was this Kevin¡¯s doing? Was he breaking the ship apart or something? There was no time to waste; the spirit normally behaved himself, but all alone up there, surrounded by enemies? Who knows what he might do. He needed her. Or so she hoped. ¡®Help! Me! Up!¡¯ Krissintha growled like a hellhound. Miss Goldeneye flinched, then looked at the ranger. The man shrugged and moved to help. Half a minute of awkward fiddling and all sorts of pain later, Krissintha was on her feet, feeling weak, certain she would collapse if she tried to take a step without the support of the two elves. She looked around, hoping to see something she could use as a makeshift crutch, but all she saw was the elves gathering around them, staring at her. The elves all seemed to have found something to cover themselves with, luckily. Among the silent, worn faces, the children were the only ones not gazing at her; they were busy sipping tea or water. She squinted her eyes at one of them, a girl maybe, holding a mug with green zig-zag lines. Ah. Toven¡¯s favourite mug. She hoped that later, when this was all over, describing this scene to him would save her and her mug-thief of a familiar from his vengeance. ¡®Don¡¯t let go, we¡¯re going up!¡¯ she declared firmly, using a mixture of her father¡¯s and Master Fenar¡¯s intonations when giving orders. The two elves were suddenly convinced that they didn¡¯t have a choice in the matter. The ranger instructed the rest of the elves to hide as best as they could. The crowd dispersed, retreating into the darkness of the hold, and the ranger and the woman began moving towards the hatch with Krissintha propped up between them. *** ¡®Holy hell!¡¯ the ranger exhaled a curse, looking around. ¡®Your ¡­ your familiar ¡­ did this?¡¯ Miss Goldeneye asked, her lips quivering, her voice barely a whisper. Krissintha didn¡¯t see the faces of her new companions ¡ª she was looking wide eyed at what the rowers¡¯ deck had become. Somewhere in the distance, towards the other end of the deck, slaves still moved and wailed, but not many of them. The rest of it? A floating graveyard of hundreds of people who had died for no obvious reason. Bodies with no wounds or blood, filling the pits to the brim. Some still had their eyes open, their last expression of horrid bafflement still on their faces. Then there was that hole. Scattered limbs littered the surrounding area, both human and ork, resting in pools of blood and guts. Krissintha had an inkling now as to how the hull got damaged. At least the hole was mostly over the waterline, so she didn¡¯t think the ship was in danger of sinking. Oh, Kevin. What have you done? Krissintha was still angry that the spirit had left her behind. But Kevin had been busy sucking the life out of this place, and the thought crossed her mind that not being there to witness it might have been a good thing. But this wasn¡¯t the time to admire or to abhor the tentacle-work of her invisible and quite monstrous companion. He was up there somewhere. She couldn¡¯t afford to stop and stare. It was a good thing she had inherited her father¡¯s stubborn nature ¡ª if not for that, she would have been stunned into a stupor by the sight. It also helped that she more or less knew what Kevin was capable of, although seeing it on such a scale was ¡­ disconcerting. She finally looked at the two elves. Yes. This was definitely enough to shock even a ranger. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡®Get moving!¡¯ she ordered her two elven helpers, determined to get to the hatch at the middle of the deck rather than the one at the back. It was better to follow Kevin¡¯s invisible footsteps. Less living barbarians that way. ¡®Come on! To the hatch and up!¡¯ she said to them, taking a small step forward. The ranger snapped out of it, nodded, and was ready to move. Miss Goldeneye was not. The woman was gasping for the putrid air, eyes wet, and she looked like she was about to throw up. Krissintha sighed loudly. The woman snapped her head to look at Krissintha, showing her an interesting mix of emotions, the two main components being an unhinged sort of terror and a look of silent pleading. ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯ Krissintha asked her. ¡®I ¡­ uh ¡­ it¡¯s Fenirig Rina,¡¯ she sniffled her name. ¡®What?¡¯ Krissintha almost yelled, staring into the woman¡¯s eyes, her heart suddenly beating in her throat. ¡®Are you ¡­ are you related to Master Fenirig Arte of Third Rangers?¡¯ ¡®Me? No,¡¯ she whispered shakily, her eyes flicking left and right. ¡®I¡¯ve ¡­ heard of him, but no.¡¯ ¡®Thank the gods, I was worried for a second,¡¯ Krissintha breathed out loudly. That would have been a disaster. Hiraken Sala was probably going to give a good report to her grandfather ¡ª Krissintha had been nice and agreeable whenever interacting with the young elf. She didn¡¯t want to think about how the Hellspawn would react if he found out she was rudely ordering around a relative of his. ¡®So ¡­ Fenri?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®I ¡­ prefer Ferin,¡¯ replied the woman, the unexpectedly normal conversation seeming to have a calming effect on her. ¡®Alright, Ferin, the thing is, my familiar is up on that deck. I need to get to him. I could limp to the ladder with just ¡­¡¯ she said, looking at the ranger. ¡®Tomaron Astar,¡¯ the man offered his name. ¡®¡­ yes, with just Tomas,¡¯ she said, the man nodding. ¡®But climbing? I¡¯ll need both of you for that.¡¯ The woman bit her lips, breathed in deep through her nose, wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. *** Some pushing, pulling and pain later, Krissintha was on the quarterdeck. She looked up at the darkening sky; the weak, orange glow of the setting sun hanging over the horizon no longer enough to hide the stars. Her two helpers held her tight between them, gawking at the twenty or so ork and human bodies littering the deck. ¡®Damn it, Kevin!¡¯ Krissintha muttered. She wasn¡¯t sure why she did that. Enemies had to be defeated. Had to be killed. Kevin was doing just that, and a part of her even appreciated that her familiar¡¯s work was less messy than a conventional battle. Less blood, less guts, no wounded men crying for help. Her father would have loved to have a familiar like him. Maybe it was for the best that her old man never had the opportunity to host a Kevinistic spirit. Krissintha shuddered. Well, Kevin was Kevin. Still her familiar. One of the two masts was ¡­ broken. Or chopped down ¡ª that was a better way to describe it. It looked like a couple of angry woodsmen had attacked it with their axes and cut through it. But then it stayed upright, on account of the numerous ropes of the rigging securing it from all sides. A few slaves or sailors lay splattered around the mast in smears of their own blood, unlike the clean ¡°spirit-kills¡± that seemed to have been the fate of the majority of the fallen. Tomas and Ferin watched the scene with their mouths open, forgetting they had a job to do. Krissintha gave them a moment to recover, then instructed them to start walking towards three disfigured men with unnaturally twisted limbs and necks, trying to move around the broken mast, lurching and twitching. ¡®Shit! Those are possessed,¡¯ Tomas the ranger whispered. Ferin was gasping for air, and stopped after two steps. She was weeping quietly, and it sounded like she was whispering something. Krissintha turned to her to say something, but before she could, the three ghastly hosts all stopped moving, their heads snapping to look at them. ¡®Took him long enough,¡¯ Krissintha sighed. Considering how Kevin had boasted on occasion about how he could see everything, it had taken him almost a minute to notice she was here, even though he was only about twenty paces away. The three puppets collapsed the same moment Krissintha felt her familiar poking at ¡­ her soul. She felt his presence grow, and she knew her familiar was finally back. She opened her mouth to chastise him, but Kevin¡¯s thoughts came flooding into her mind like water through a broken dam. Krissy! Oh, thank god you¡¯re okay! And in one piece. Are you in pain? Can you move? How is your arm? And your leg? Are you dizzy at all? How many fingers am I holding up? How is ¡­ ¡®Stop it!¡¯ Krissintha ordered, holding her good arm up. All of a sudden the blue flashes of Mana filled her vision, so much so that she could once again see an outline of not only tentacles, but of his familiar¡¯s spherical body as well, right in front of her. That wasn¡¯t an issue for her anymore ¡ª during Wensah¡¯s last visit she had seen what her familiar looked like. It was, however, very much an issue for her escorts. They both shrieked, and Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure why they weren¡¯t running for their lives yet. She had heard it was possible to be so scared that it robbed you of your ability to move, so maybe that was the case. Oh well, power-flashes usually lasted only half-moments, so it was all good. But the flashes of Mana intensified instead of vanishing, and a sudden, bone-chilling cold washed over her entire body. ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ she demanded. Tentacle hug! I missed you! Kevin said, his weird, ghostly voice almost singing. ¡®Oh. I can¡¯t remember the last time anyone was this happy to see me,¡¯ Krissintha grumbled. ¡®Stop hugging me. It¡¯s cold.¡¯ She didn¡¯t quite understand why the spirit¡¯s power felt tingly when she used it, but cold when Kevin did. That was something to ponder later. Sorry. Kevin said, and the blue, almost sparkling power of the spirit started to fade. ¡®And you were complaining about me using too much of that MP stuff? How much did this ¡°hug¡± cost you?¡¯ It was worth it. The spirit declared cheerily. Krissintha looked straight at Kevin¡¯s body, the last of the blue flashes disappearing, the outline of the hovering sphere still just about visible. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a glare as icy as a spirit¡¯s power. Uhm ¡­ are you ¡­ okay? Kevin asked, his voice turning from happy to moderately cautious. ¡®You left me,¡¯ she stated, almost hissing the words. I ¡­ I can explain. They hurt you, and I was angry, and ¡­¡¯ Kevin blurted his thoughts at her. ¡®I know you can explain. That¡¯s not what I want to hear,¡¯ Krissintha said sternly, interrupting the spirit. Oh. I ¡­ it won¡¯t happen again? Kevin asked rather than stated. ¡®With more conviction!¡¯ Krissintha demanded. It won¡¯t happen again. He said, firmly this time, like he meant it. ¡®Better.¡¯ Krissintha nodded. The last of Kevin¡¯s power dissipated, and he was invisible again. ¡®I ¡­ never knew familiars were like ¡­ this,¡¯ Tomas the ranger whispered. Oh. She forgot he could hear Kevin. Ferin was gawking at the man ¡ª she could only hear Krissintha¡¯s part of the exchange, and she looked like she was close to fainting. Tomas turned to her, gave her a feeble smile and said, ¡®It was ¡­ like ¡­ a lover¡¯s quarrel. She won.¡¯ Both Krissintha and Ferin stopped breathing for a few moments. That¡¯s not funny. Kevin commented. Heh. It is funny. Sini chimed in all of a sudden, all the way from the shore. Up until now the landlubbers had the good sense not to talk unless it was necessary, lest they distract them from doing their jobs. But Kevin¡¯s so called ¡°spirit-walkie-talkie¡± was working, and thus the audience that was listening to them was larger than Krissintha would have liked. She coughed, cleared her throat, and decided it was time to change the subject and focus on important things. Such as the enemy. ¡®Where are the spiritualists?¡¯ she inquired. In pieces. Well, two of them at least. The other two left. ¡®Left? Where? We¡¯re on a ship.¡¯ They took the barges. ¡®Why?¡¯ she raised her eyebrows. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say they found my danger-noodles too scary and they skedaddled. The spirit explained, sounding quite unhappy about it. ¡®And you let them? They will go back to wherever, and tell everyone about you.¡¯ Firstly, there was nothing I could do about it. Secondly ¡­ oh shit. Krissintha sighed deeply, but another question had to be asked. ¡®What happened to the familiars of the two you killed?¡¯ Uh ¡­ so ¡­ they got away. Back to the spirit-world. Keven started to sound both unhappy and embarrassed. ¡®Right. So whichever god they are attached to will also learn about you. Didn¡¯t Wensah say it would cause all sorts of problems?¡¯ Oh-oh. ¡®Oh-oh what?¡¯ It¡¯s Sivera. They mentioned Sivera. Krissintha breathed in, then breathed out. Then in again, then out. In, out. Until she calmed herself enough to keep her composure and prevent the kind of outburst she had been taught from childhood not to do in public. Better to focus on the immediate problems. ¡®The rest of the crew?¡¯ she asked. Oh yes, there are a few up on the masts. The rest of them fled to the cabins at the back. I bet they¡¯re shaking in fear or something. They won¡¯t come back out. Kevin replied immediately, sounding happy about the change of topic. Krissintha strained her eyes, trying to see the top of the masts and the rigging. A few, vaguely man-shaped shadows were moving there, but with the sails intact and obscuring most parts, she wasn¡¯t sure. ¡®So, you tried to cut down the masts?¡¯ she asked the spirit. Yes. Krissintha looked the main mast up and down, observing all the ropes still holding it in place despite having been axed. ¡®You didn¡¯t think it through, did you?¡¯ she said, scowling. I¡¯m not going to answer that. And does it matter? With or without sails the ship will move. You know, currents, or some other nautical nonsense. Krissintha sighed. The spirit was probably correct, but it was worth a try. She was about to announce that they should carry on with tearing the sails down, when she heard a violent, vicious roar coming from the back of the ship. They all looked. The roar was followed by a large number of barbarians noisily spilling out onto the deck from the cabins, armed to the teeth and forming ranks. Krissintha sighed again. ¡®Didn¡¯t you say they were hiding and shaking in fear or something?¡¯ she asked her familiar. Well, it looks like they were doing the ¡°or something¡±. Kevin said. ¡®Or something,¡¯ Krissintha scoffed. She looked at Tomas, then at Ferin, both suddenly sweating more than the cold and salty evening air justified. They were in no shape to fight. She was in no shape to fight. That left the invisible, soul-eating spirit-monster. ¡®So, how are you going to get us out of this?¡¯ Chapter Sixty Chapter Sixty I had been sure I¡¯d scared the remaining barbarians off, so their newfound courage for a heroic last stand was an unwelcome development. Fourteen orks were quickly whipping their remaining slaves into three ranks in front of the cabins, some twenty metres from us. Eight men formed the first line, holding weird-looking billhooked spears, at least three metres long. The second line of eight men behind them had a variety of shorter polearms. They weren¡¯t a huge problem from my point of view, not even with nine of the orks behind them, brandishing their obscenely large melee weapons; with tentacles more than twice as long as their spears I easily outclassed them in terms of reach. The best they could do was to present themselves as snacks. But, there was a problem, because why wouldn¡¯t there be one? Archers. Seven humans, two elves and four orks sporting bows. Seeing the many stacks of arrows they had dragged up from somewhere, they weren¡¯t going to run out of ammunition any time soon, even if they fired at us every five seconds. I glared at them as much as I could glare without eyes. Things had been going well so far. For me, not for the crew. By my estimate I needed around 5700 EXP to reach Level 35, and the twenty humans, two elves, eight orks had given me over 1800 EXP within minutes of my arrival to the quarterdeck. That wasn¡¯t a bad result ¡ª who knew mass-murdering a whole ship would be so delicious? What to do now? What to do? Tomas and Ferin both looked at Krissy, tense and ready to bolt back to the hatch. That would be a sensible thing to do. The masts were still there between us and our foes, not to mention a number of boxes and barrels, so trying to get behind cover was also a reasonable option. Our mobility was an issue, though; Krissy had a sprained ankle, so running, jumping, ducking and even simple, unassisted walking was not something she could do. The ork with the tricorn hat bellowed an order before either me or Krissy had time to decide how to react to the threat. That ork was the largest of the green wankers, so probably the captain of the ship. The archers immediately aimed and loosed. Thirteen arrows cut through the air. It took a second for the projectiles to reach us, but that second was enough for me to pour all my remaining Mana out and re-form Krissy¡¯s Mana-Armour. And since Tomas and Ferin were standing shoulder to shoulder with her, holding her, I managed to extend the protection to them as well. The archers were pretty good shots, unfortunately; eleven of the arrows hit us. My three companions flinched as the inivisble armour flared for a second, the arrows tearing out chunks of Mana, then clattering onto the floor harmlessly. And with that, I was almost out of Mana. I mean, I had spent 36 MP on a tentacle-hug. I did not regret it at all, it was worth it. However, with ten tentacles at my disposal, my Essence collection was fast, about 15 EP per minute, and my pools were nearly full. I pulled 60 EP from the primary and another 20 EP from the secondary pools, converting it into into 40 MP, filling my Mana-Pool up to capacity. I renewed the Mana-Armour around Krissy and her helpers before the last of the arrows fell to the floor, just as the archers prepared the second volley. I wasn¡¯t yet sure how much the extended armour would cost me per minute, but I guessed it to be around 10 to 12 MP per minute ¡ª I could keep it up for at least four minutes. That didn¡¯t seem like a long time, but it should be enough to come up with a half-decent plan for a counterattack. Or a retreat. Either way, we needed to move. The new volley came a few seconds later. They bounced off my Mana-Armour. Ork Captain barked an order. The archers stopped pulling on the bowstrings, and the third volley was canceled. Ork-Captain was smarter than he looked. Which wasn¡¯t hard since orks didn¡¯t have that genius look to begin with, plus the guy¡¯s undersized tri-corn hat did not help his image. He realized he couldn¡¯t kill or hurt us with arrows, so he decided not to waste their stockpile of flying sticks, at least for now. It didn¡¯t look like they were going to charge at us either. On the other hand, we couldn¡¯t hurt them from where we were, and with Krissy¡¯s injury it was impossible to take the fight to them without depleting my Mana-Pool and losing Mana-Armour. We had quickly arrived at an impasse. I deactivated Mana-Armour, and let my pools re-fill ¡ª I could bring it back up if I saw the archers getting ready to shoot again. I plunged a few of my tentacles through the floorboard, hoping a few live rowers would be in my reach. If I could possess at least one, I could just frogmarch him along the rowers¡¯ deck and position him right under our adversaries, and have bit of nom-nom. I had done too good a job eating the slaves, and the living ones were way out of reach, so that wasn¡¯t an option. The upside to that was that I wouldn¡¯t have to start working on excuses for why I was leaving Krissy again, right after I¡¯d promised not to. ¡®Kevin!¡¯ Krissy whispered, not taking her eyes off the enemy and their captain. ¡®Yes?¡¯ I asked cautiously, hoping she wasn¡¯t going to have another go at me. ¡®What¡¯s the plan?¡¯ she grumbled at me. I wasn¡¯t all out of options. Tomas was uninjured, and I already had one of my tenties ready to plunge into his soul. That was the plan. I just wasn¡¯t sure if I was brave enough to present it to Krissy. ¡®Well, I have a plan, but I¡¯d have to leave you for little bit. Again.¡¯ I said, even more cautiously. Krissy, as if she was reading my mind, glanced at the Tomas, then scowled. The ranger shuddered. Everyone was a bloody mind-reader around here. ¡®Are you trying to piss me off? You¡¯re my familiar,¡¯ she hissed through gritted teeth. ¡®But ¡­ you¡¯re injured,¡¯ I argued. I withdrew my tentacle from the ranger¡¯s soul. I didn¡¯t think I could win this argument even if her life depended on it. Which it did. My married friends had been right: there was nothing more dangerous than a woman who had made up her mind about something. I sighed inwardly and wanted to inform her that my plan involved someone going over to the enemy at a fast pace, when Ork Captain barreled forward, roaring and pushing his comrades aside, disrupting the ranks of his own men. *** One minute passed, and I was still just gawking at Ork Captain, who had come quite close to us, having left the relative safety of his troops behind. I wasn¡¯t an expert on orkish behaviour, language and facial expression, but I had a feeling he was angry. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. An old memory flashed through my mind. The restaurant. A customer with her four-year-old boy who, for whatever reason, was unhappy and decided to throw a tantrum between two tables, stomping on the floor, screaming, grabbing and smashing cutlery on the floor, much to his mother''s embarrassment. This time there was no mother around, and the child was incredibly large, green and ugly. Instead of spoons and forks, his huge cutlass-like blade ended up on the floor. Then he grabbed some navigational equipment and smashed it down. Then he picked up an ork-sized book, probably the captain¡¯s log, or maybe maps or navigational charts, and that ended up bouncing away on the floor, too. After some time, Ork Captain finally ran out of things he could grab, and he threw his tricorn hat, then kicked it so hard it went overboard to be lost at sea forever. I realized then that the second minute of this performance had just passed. To my astonishment, the green guy pulled another tricorn hat from somewhere, a back pocket on his trousers maybe, and slammed it on his bald, green head. ¡®Uhm ¡­ so ¡­¡¯ I started to say, but suddenly couldn¡¯t find the words. ¡®Yeah,¡¯ Krissy agreed. Tomas and Ferin were staring at the spectacle, mesmerized and horrified in equal measure, judging by the looks on their faces. ¡®Are you curious what he¡¯s saying? I¡¯m curious what he¡¯s saying,¡¯ I said. Because I was curious what he was saying. This didn¡¯t look like a taunt, or a surrender, or a trick, or a diversion ¡ª his troops stood still, looking just as gobsmacked by the captains¡¯s behaviour as we were. I mean, he was having a bad day, mostly due to an evil spirit eating the majority of his crew, so maybe he just had it up here and lost his mind. ¡®I won¡¯t lie ¡­¡¯ said Krissy, then looked at her two helpers. ¡®¡­ I¡¯m a little intrigued.¡¯ Tomas inhaled sharply, Ferin started shaking her head. They knew what this meant. We started inching forward, the two elves setting a pace so slow that Krissy probably could have limped or hopped on her good leg faster than them. But we made progress. Ork Captain noticed our approach. By now his head was taking on a reddish hue, veins popping on his forehead no doubt. But he stopped screaming like a madman and straightened himself, looking directly at Krissy. He didn¡¯t move, though, he didn¡¯t even pick up his weapon from the floor. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a good or a bad sign. Finally, after a very long and painful minute and a half ¡ª painful mostly for Krissy ¡ª we stopped about five metres from the towering creature. He was well withing my range, and I had one of my danger-noodles ready with a thread to connect him to my group chat. If I had to strike and gobble up his soul, I was prepared for that, too. Ork Captain didn¡¯t move a muscle though ¡ª he was glaring at us, panting and huffing as if he had just ran a Marathon. He was really worked up, but he didn¡¯t do anything. I activated Mana-Armour anyway, just in case. The barely visible blue flash of the magical shield was enough to trigger another round of loud bellowing and stomping from Ork Captain. I stuck a tentacle into his green soul. I connected the thread to the node I thought was his communication node, and lo and behold, his thoughts started to echo in our mind. Loudly. ¡®¡­ ya fuggen ganks got no honour! Ya¡¯r worse than the fuggen shitgang-shamans! This is my ship! Fight me like a man! No cripples! No cheatin¡¯! No invisible-gankshit-spirit-bastards! Fair and square, ya hear me? Fair and square!¡¯ Honour? Really? I wasn¡¯t an expert on the topic, but when one side was pillaging for slaves, the other eating souls, I didn¡¯t think honour played a role at all. The fact that Ork Captain was spouting such nonsense got on my nerves instantly. Activating Mana-Glove, I reached out with a tentacle and coiled it around the largest, heaviest-looking object I could find. The suspected captain¡¯s log. Or navigational chart. It didn¡¯t matter. ¡®Facebook Attack!¡¯ I yelled as I slammed the wood-bound book in his face. ¡®You¡¯ve been unfriended!¡¯ Ork Captain fell back and landed on his backside, blackish blood squirting from his flattened nose. Tomas and Ferin gasped. Krissy snorted. My Tentacle Horror instinct hissed at me for not eating him. The barbarian lines behind the captain stirred, the spearmen lifting their weapons, the archers reaching for arrows. At least we were closer now ¡ª we could take the two or three volleys they could manage before we reached them. Krissy tensed and was ready to move or limp forward, but before we could do so, Ork Captain jumped to his feet, thundering some choice words. ¡®Ya fuggen gank-ass whoreson shit-spirit! Stay the hell outta my ship, ya fugger! I¡¯m Orkuz Graal! This. Is. My. Ship.¡¯ The ork was incredibly loud. Not just his voice, but his thoughts as well, flooding my communication node, asserting a vulgar supremacy over all other thoughts that might be traveling through. The fellow didn¡¯t seem to know what restraint meant. ¡®I say we kill him,¡¯ I suggested. The captain stopped yelling at us immediately, tilted his head to the side, and started smacking his jagged pointy ear on the up side, just like you¡¯d try to get water to leave the ear on the down-side, after a bath or dip in a pool. So he somehow heard me over his own thought-voice, didn¡¯t he? ¡®Yeah, it seems like the thing to do,¡¯ agreed Krissy without batting an eye. I reached out with a tentacle, not nearly as excited as my Tentacle Horror instinct ¡ª mushrooms still weren¡¯t my favourites. I¡¯d have to have some spirit-toothpaste after, and I eyed a couple of the human spearmen. They would do. No! Dimal¡¯s thought-scream rang in our heads before I could snatch myself a bland, mushroom flavoured snack. Weren¡¯t you listening? He said the ship is his. He¡¯s the captain. He¡¯s the one we need to interrogate. He knows things. ¡®Oh, hell, I completely forgot you can all hear us,¡¯ I grumbled. I¡¯m not sure we can do that. Krissy sent her thoughts through the voice-chat. He seems to want to fight to the death. Oh come on! Dimal groaned. Your familiar is the scariest thing I¡¯ve ever ¡­ not seen. Scare the fucker into surrender. I think he can hear us, too. Krissy commented. ¡®Nah, he¡¯s too loud for his own good,¡¯ I said. The captain ¡ª Orkuz Graal ¡­ or Growl ¡­ or maybe it was one word like Orkuzgraal, I wasn¡¯t sure ¡ª was vehemently trying to get the voices out of his head, now hitting his bald scalp with his tricorn hat, yelling obscenities. I doubted he could properly hear or understand our conversation, and even if he did, he didn¡¯t look like he would care. ¡®Still, how are we going to scare him into surrender?¡¯ Krissy whispered. ¡®How about ¡­¡¯ I started to say as an idea formed in my mind ¡®¡­ some shock¡¯n¡¯awe?¡¯ ¡®Like what?¡¯ scoffed Krissy. ¡®Another of that ¡°facebook-attack¡±? It was weird, not shocking or awing.¡¯ ¡®Oh no, not that,¡¯ I said, grinning on the inside. ¡®What then?¡¯ she demanded. I recalled my previous experiences of lifting objects using Mana, or dragging Krissy to bed, throwing blankets over her, or chopping down trees or masts. I also spent a second to reminisce about the more memorable moments in superhero movies and cartoons. Oh, Storm from the X-Men, hovering in the air, surrounded by lightning, striking fear into the hearts of her enemies ¡­ what a sight. I did some calculations. The transfer or energy and all that physics stuff between the spiritual and the material was ¡­ weird. But it worked, and I had a good grasp of what I could do, even without fully understanding any underlying principles. Mana did what it did, and that¡¯s all I needed to know. I would need to fully coat only two of my tenties with the stuff, and I could execute my plan for the measly price of ¡­ 20 Mana per minute, give or take. Plus 5 MP per minute if I wanted to keep Mana Armour active, which I did. Yep. This would work. I refilled my Mana Pool to max at 44 MP, leaving me with 30 EP between my two Essence pools, filling up at a good pace already. I had roughly three minutes to convince the mutant gym-shrek that it was in his best interest to surrender. I sent mana to coat the tips of four tenties, then I placed them on the floor like the extending legs of truck-mounted cranes. I positioned my body right at Krissy¡¯s back, then coated the entire length of two tentacles with Mana. I coiled them around Krissy like a Kraken grabbing a ship to pull it down, but not yet touching her body. ¡®Alright, this is going to be cold,¡¯ I warned her. She shuddered as I tightened my grip over her legs and torso right up to her armpits. ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ she whisper-hissed at me. I got her mask out of Jack¡¯s Room and put it on her face before the ork could see the less than menacing, befuddled expression on her face. ¡®We are going to show this guy how scary we can be.¡¯ I giggled, and I lifted Krissy off the deck¡¯s floor. Chapter Sixty-one Chapter Sixty-one Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was flying for the first time in her life. Well, she was up in the air some three or four paces over the deck, and she could feel Kevin¡¯s ice-cold power wrapped around her. This wasn¡¯t really flying though, was it? The spirit was just holding her up as if she was a rag-doll. How ¡­ undignifying. Still, it was something that had never even occurred to her as a possibility, just as it had never occurred to any spiritualist she had personally known. Or heard of. Familiars did not have the power to treat their hosts as luggage. It was the other way around, wasn¡¯t it? Suddenly she remembered those nights at the training ground¡¯s barrack, when falling asleep on the floor or a chair had somehow resulted in waking up the next morning, tucked into her bed. It had happened more than once or twice. She should have realized it sooner. Kevin could grab and move objects ¡ª the ¡°poltergeist effect¡± as he called it, whatever that meant. On one hand, she wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with the revelation. On the other, Kevin was Kevin; dangerous, but probably the least malevolent and most helpful of all evil spirits in existence. Perhaps he deserved at least a ¡°thank you¡± for not letting her sleep on the floor when she had been too exhausted to make it to her bed. And for making sure she always had something to eat when she had no strength left to go to the cafeteria. And for making sure she had been bathing somewhat regularly ¡ª she would have not done that without his nagging, not during training. Training under Fenar and Toven had been the harshest-hardest thing she had ever done. Oh. Krissintha realized, this time without the shadow of a doubt, how unswerving her familiar¡¯s support was. ¡®Thanks, Kevin,¡¯ she whispered. Ahh ¡­ don¡¯t thank me yet, it¡¯s not easy to move like this. I can¡¯t even tell if you¡¯re heavy or not. ¡®I¡¯m not heavy,¡¯ she protested immediately. Light as a feather. Right. I¡¯m gonna move you now. She saw power around her for a moment, she felt the ¡°tentacle hug¡± tightening, and she started inching forward in the air. She could only hear the gasps and whispered prayers of the ranger and the woman standing behind her, but she could see the orks and their slaves in front of her just fine. So far she¡¯d seen nothing but rage and murder in their eyes. Now however, they looked like scared, green puppies, eyes wide, mouths hung open, slowly backing away from her as she ¡°floated¡± towards them. It seemed they hadn¡¯t heard of a flying spiritualist either. The line of spearmen and archers took a collective step back. The captain of the ship looked at his remaining crew and gathered his courage. He picked up his oversized cutlass he had previously discarded during his outburst and pointed it at Krissintha. Blue power immediately flashed around the blade. The weapon yanked itself out of the brute¡¯s hand and sailed through the air, stopping before her. She reached out to touch it, and as she did, the sword vanished. Probably into Jack¡¯s Room. This whole affair felt ¡­ familiar. The ork looked suitably shocked by the disappearing sword act. He looked around frantically, and picked up the nearest object. The large, wood-bound book. He threw it at Krissintha¡¯s head. Maybe ¡°facebook attacks¡± were a thing after all. The book disappeared into thin air before reaching her, following the sword into the mysterious storage room. The ork¡¯s face went from a mossy but somewhat vivid green to a pale, almost yellowish colour. Like dried grass. ¡®To the cabins ya ...¡¯ he barked an order to his troops. Power flashed at his face before he could finish the sentence. His head snapped to the side, black blood spraying from his mouth. ¡®Did you just ¡­ slap him?¡¯ Krissintha whispered. Yep. The orks face snapped to the other side, blood splattering to the floor. ¡®Again?¡¯ Yep. Then the closest of the human slaves, a spearman, screamed. His body lifted off the ground, and he rose above his cohorts, floating closer to Krissintha helplessly, his arms and legs flailing. Then the man went limp, his head dropped, and he was dead. Kevin tossed the dead body right at the feet of the ork captain. Krissintha shuddered and felt like she should be screaming. She held it back admirably. Your turn. Talk him into surrendering. You¡¯re good at that. Kevin whisper-thought his instructions to her. The captain of the barbarian ship, Orkuz Graal, looked at the dead human at his feet, then looked up at her. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure how to interpret the overall expression on an ork¡¯s face, but the look in his eyes were easy to decipher. Fear. It was definitely fear, and not a small amount of it. Krissintha knew she had nothing to fear from her familiar, and there was no time left to waste on her own, instinctual terror. She was supposed to be in charge of this situation, and it was time to act like it. ¡®Your souls are mine,¡¯ she growled as loudly as she could, keeping her voice low and cold, while also sending the words through the voice-chat. ¡®You and yours shall be my gift to the King of Hell. Eternal suffering awaits!¡¯ Then she graced the captain with the most evil-sounding chuckle she could manage, imitating an actor she had once seen on stage, portraying the villain of the play. It made her throat dry and itchy. She didn¡¯t know if barbarians were superstitious or not, but people generally believed in Hell and the evil spirits residing there, so this was the safest bet she could think of. The slaves behind the captain dropped their weapons, their ranks dissolved, and they fled back to the cabins. The orks didn¡¯t move to stop them. They stood there, frozen, the same fear in their eyes as in their captain¡¯s. Perhaps they were superstitious after all. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Orkuz Graal himself didn¡¯t move. He just stared at Krissintha¡¯s mask. Kevin¡¯s power flashed past the captain, and an ork shrieked as the spirit started dragging the green bastard forward. The captain turned his head to look and saw that one of his own kind was to be the next offering to be dragged to Hell. He fell to his knees, shaking his fist and roaring madly. ¡®No! Stop, ya floatin¡¯, hellspawn gank! I fuggen surrender, ya hear? We. Fuggen. Surrender.¡¯ *** ¡®Here¡¯s yar fuggen chair,¡¯ Orkuz Graal grumbled as two of his orks finally managed to drag his very own chair out from the captain¡¯s day cabin. ¡®Fugg,¡¯ one of the green errand boys swore. Krissintha had been hearing the orkish swear word a lot in the past few minutes ¡ª if one could call the short grunt a word ¡ª so she recognized it. The orks dragged the chair to her, then went to stand behind their captain. Tomas and Ferin looked the exact opposite of calm and happy ¡ª Ferin was outright shaking, holding back tears and trying her best not to look at Krissintha. The ranger was a little bit ¡­ braver, but she was sure it was just a facade. The man was scared. Of her. Still, they helped her sit on the ork-sized thing that was too large even to be a throne in a king¡¯s hall. She felt like a toddler trying to get comfortable in a grown-up¡¯s chair. She squirmed until she could lean against the back, thankful for the mask covering her face. Without it, everyone would have seen the painful grimace as she had to move her injured arm and ankle. Once she was sitting ¡ª far from comfortably ¡ª the two elves stepped aside to stand on either sides of her improvized throne, as if they were her knights, or retainers. They reminded her of Quenta and Tommi a little ¡ª the two sailors had done something like this in the past. Oh well, could be worse. ¡®Whatcha gonna do now, ya hell-cursed gank?¡¯ Orkuz Graal demanded. Or pleaded. Or just asked. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure. Seriously? It¡¯s like someone bred them for Tourette¡¯s Syndrome. Kevin mused. What¡¯s that? Krissintha asked, sighing, hoping the question would convey that she didn¡¯t understand any of what he had just said. Tourette¡¯s. Some condition that makes you swear uncontrollably. Replied the spirit. I mean, they have surrendered, their lives are in our hands and they keep calling us names. That ¡­ made some sense. Uh-huh. So? Whatcha gonna do with em¡¯ ganks, ya gank? Krissintha sent a thought, imitating the ork. Dunno ya floatin¡¯ gank. Whacha think we should do with ¡®em ganks? Kevin played along of course. Got any fuggen suggestions? Tear their fuggen heads off? Krissintha suggested, looking at the orks menacingly. Thinking orkish thoughts was ¡­ an interesting experience. Maybe she could try saying them out loud. Orkuz Graal flinched, and was about to protest the new plan of beheading, but Krissintha lifted her good arm to stop him. ¡®We accepted your surrender, we won¡¯t kill you ¡­ ya gank,¡¯ she stated. ¡®But you are going to answer some fuggen questions.¡¯ Well, saying orkish things out loud ¡­ needed practice. ¡®Aye, aye, then hurry up with ¡®em fuggen questions!¡¯ the captain bellowed, his tone and verbiage in sharp contrast with how scared every single one of the green bastards looked. What should we ask? Kevin squealed excitedly. Krissintha thought about it for a few moments, then came to a decision. She leaned forward, looking into the ork¡¯s black eyes. ¡®Alright, Orkuz Graal, answer this!¡¯ said Krissintha out loud but also sending her thoughts. ¡®What does ¡°gank¡± mean?¡¯ I swear I¡¯ll throw the both of you in a pit, you nitwits. Important questions! Ask important questions! Dimal¡¯s frustrated thoughts invaded the voice-chat. She sneered under her mask. Damn ranger just had to ruin her fun with orkish swearing ¡ª the distraction that kept all the accumulated horror and pain at bay. But she had to wait with the crying until she was alone with Kevin. *** Until recently, Krissintha didn¡¯t even know that creatures such as the green barbarians existed. Orks, as Kevin called them. It was a good name; short and it suited them. Now, fourteen of the monstrous marauders were kneeling in front of her makeshift throne, completely at her mercy. Orkuz Graal didn¡¯t answer a single question Dimal had put forward, such as how many ships the barbarians had sent, where other pickup points were, or what was their schedule for picking their cohorts up. Instead, Krissintha learned what ¡°gank¡± meant. It meant something like ¡°inferior creature¡±. To an ork everyone was a gank who wasn¡¯t an ork. On top of that, orks who displayed dishonour and associated characteristics, such as cowardice, were also eligible to be called ¡°ganks¡±. Orkuz Graal vehemently denied being a gank. He hadn¡¯t surrendered to avoid death, he had surrendered to secure an honorable death to himself and his men. The idea took some time for Krissintha to wrap her mind around, but a curse-riddled explanation later, she understood it. For orks, there was a difference between being killed and being killed. Almost every aspect of orkish life had the same tried and tested method to it. Duels. If two orks had a difference of opinion ¡ª be it political, ideological or just a neighborly quarrel ¡ª the solution was a duel. The one who remained standing would be regarded as right, the one who ended up a bloody pulp ¡ª or dead on rare occasions, although that wasn¡¯t the norm ¡ª was wrong. Winning a duel was an honourable act, dying in a duel was also honourable, so it was a win-win for everyone involved. According to Orkuz Graal. The captain then went on a whole, ten minute long tangent about his hatred for mystics ¡ª the orkish word for spiritualists ¡ª saying they were a ¡°dishonourable, cheating, shit-eating bunch of fuggen ganks¡±. To be a mystic was to forsake orkish heritage, tradition and pride. To be killed by one was not an honourable death. Hence his surrender. He conceded that even the strongest of ork warriors couldn¡¯t defeat a mystic in a duel ¡ª because spirits were a cheat. Then he explained that in the twenty years since a shitty god named Sivera had sent two shamans to gather followers, they had all but taken over the clan he belonged to. It was cheating. It was dishonourable. And there was nothing anyone could do about it ¡ª damn shamans and their fuggen mystics were just too powerful. As far as Orkuz Graal was concerned, his clan no longer existed in the form it should have. But business was business ¡ª a completely separate thing that had nothing to do with honour or a lack thereof ¡ª so raids and slave-trade were still a thing. ¡®¡­ and the fuggen shamans sell ¡®em ganks to the northern clans. For metal. For steel. So they can make more fuggen weapons for ¡®em shitty mystics.¡¯ Orkuz Graal finished telling his tale. ¡®But Orkuz Graal will not die a gank!¡¯ the ork proclaimed. ¡®I will answer your fuggen questions, if you give us a good death.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯ll answer our questions ¡­ after we give you a good death?¡¯ Krissintha asked incredulously. ¡®How do you expect to do that?¡¯ ¡®Stoopid gank,¡¯ the captain growled at her. ¡®Give us warriors to duel. Them pointy-eared skinnies have warriors. Proper warriors, not spirit-fuggers. Swear yo do that, I swear I¡¯ll answer yar questions.¡¯ Oh, the nerve of this guy! Kevin scoffed. Can¡¯t I just relieve them of their souls? Not yet. Krissintha thought, shaking her head. Dimal? Huh. I¡¯m just a scout-master, not even first-rank. I can¡¯t just promise the enemy anything. Dimal said. Master Sivaren Tal might agree to it, if he thinks the information is worth it. I sent a runner, so we¡¯ll know soon. ¡®Good! Talk to yar fuggen clan boss! We¡¯ll fight any of yar gank warriors. They¡¯re more honorable than any asshole mystic.¡¯ Good to know. Said Dimal dismissively. Hey! Ships. I see two ships! Sini announced excitedly. It seemed she had the spyglass now. Ours I think. Oh. I recognize the figurehead on the prow on one of them. It¡¯s the Righteous Wrath. Hey, Orky! Kevin called out to the captain. What¡¯s the name of this boat? ¡®I¡¯m Orkuz Graal, ya fuggen, invisible shit! And this ain¡¯t a boat. It¡¯s my ship!¡¯ the ork growled angrily. ¡®Just answer the question, Orkuz Graal!¡¯ Krissintha snarled at him. ¡®The Graal¡¯s Enourmous Pride,¡¯ declared the ork, puffing his chest out. ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ the name of your ship? The Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride?¡¯ said Krissy, raising her eyebrows. ¡®Yah. Best ship in the whole fuggen clan,¡¯ Wow! Was all Kevin said. Krissintha had no words to respond. Chapter Sixty-two Chapter Sixty-two I would have liked to spend some time and delve deeper into orkish naming conventions. The Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride? Now that was a name that deserved a little ¡­ dissecting. Unusual for a ship, I would say. It was a big ship though. I wondered, if for orks, ships were like sports cars back on good old Earth ¡ª you got one when your midlife crisis started to unfold and suddenly you felt the need to compensate for the size of your ¡­ tentacles, or some other nonsense. I wondered what the other ork ships were called. The Peaks of Envy? The Irresistible Thrust? Unfortunately, I had other problems. No matter how botched a job I had done, with Orkuz Graal¡¯s surrender, combat was over. Krissy was sitting in the captain¡¯s chair that she¡¯d had the POWs drag out to the deck. She seemed happy enough that her biggest problem had been downgraded from staying alive to enduring some pain and listening to the captain¡¯s eloquent recounting of orkish lore, while waiting for the Solace Navy to arrive. Personally, I, too, was happy that the fighting had ended. My Tentacle Horror instinct was not. So far I had been able to just push it to the background and call on it only when I needed help with something. But now it was growling at me. It wasn¡¯t the first time the Instinct expressed dissatisfaction with my handling of things. But this was the first time I actually heard it growl, and I don¡¯t mean it like a feeling, or an impression, like I usually experienced it. I. Heard. It. Growl. That was concerning. I had been thinking of the Instinct as some sort of residual knowledge of the original Tentacle Horror. Wensah had been extremely proud of herself for doing such a good job implanting my soul into the monster¡¯s body, giving me full control of it. A part of me wanted to believe her ¡ª being certain that my soul and consciousness had fully replaced the critter was a comforting thought. But hearing it so loudly and intrusively yell at me, gave me pause and made me think this through. I had leveled three times in less than an hour. That was a lot of growth, and it crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, it was what had enabled my Tentacle Horror Instinct to become louder and more assertive. So ¡­ was it really ¡°my¡± Tentacle Horror Instinct? Or was it the actual monster I had supposedly replaced? Or was I just becoming schizophrenic? It yelled at me again. A gruff, forceful, commanding shout, echoing in my mind. No, that wasn¡¯t an extra personality in development, I concluded. It was an entity of its own, and it was pissed with me. I shuddered. It wasn¡¯t words, but I clearly understood its demand. ¡°Eat¡±. ¡°Grow¡±. ¡°Eat some more¡±. Oh shit. I felt an urge to eat. I wasn¡¯t hungry. I hadn¡¯t felt hunger ever since my miraculous transformation into this spirit-noodle-blob. But the urge was there now, quite pronounced and growing with every new grunt of the Tentacle Horror Instinct. Oh, the nerve of this guy! On the outside, things were ¡­ calm. Krissy was as comfortable as she could be, the orks seemed docile enough for the moment, and the crew that had fled into the cabins seemed content to stay there. The elves we had freed were still hiding in the hold, since no-one had gone down there to let them know what was going on. The remaining fifty or so rowers were still in their pits, chained and unable to break free. The ship wasn¡¯t sinking despite the car sized hole in the hull. We were as safe as we could be, the only danger present on the ship was me and my artificially induced, growing desire to eat something. Everyone would manage now without the voice-chat. ¡®Uhm, listen, I¡¯m going to ¡­ disconnect everyone from the voice-chat for a few minutes,¡¯ I announced, sounding like a constipated spirit. ¡®Even you, Krissy.¡¯ ¡®What? Why?¡¯ asked Krissy, making a sudden move, then hissing in pain. ¡®Just got to deal with some ¡­ uh ¡­ personal issues. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®Personal issues? What¡¯s going on?¡¯ she inquired, this time staying still in order to avoid another jolt of pain in her arm or ankle. ¡®I¡¯ll tell you later. Hold down the fort, will you?¡¯ ¡®What fort?¡¯ hissed Krissy. ¡®Yes, thank you and talk to you later.¡¯ I splattered. I had to hurry ¡ª the Instinct was getting louder and louder. I couldn¡¯t even hear Krissy¡¯s complaints properly anymore, and to my absolute horror, a thought flashed through my mind; she had a very delicious looking, teal-coloured soul. Extra minty. Probably. Gritting my metaphorical teeth I plunged a tentacle inside my own body. I tore out the threads from my communication node one after another, effectively ending my role as a multi-user walkie talkie. The pain was bad, but at least it didn¡¯t linger ¡ª a couple of moments and it was done. And it had to be done. I didn¡¯t have a plan beyond entering a shouting match with the Instinct, and I didn¡¯t want anyone to hear it. Not even Krissy. Then, I was alone with the monster in my head. What a horrible cliche. ¡®Alright, stop this right now!¡¯ I shrieked at the entity. I was becoming certain it was a separate entity, sharing my head-space. Eat! It shrieked back at me. ¡®No!¡¯ Grow! ¡®Like hell! We¡¯re done for today,¡¯ Eat! Eat! Eat! The thing began a scratchy, throaty chant. It felt like a bucket of gravel was rattling in my mind. My soundless bellowing didn¡¯t seem to stop the bastard. Grow. Need to grow. ¡®Oh, come on! What¡¯s the rush?¡¯ Slow. Too slow. ¡®Slow? Are you serious? We¡¯ve been doing rather well, don¡¯t you think?¡¯ Don¡¯t think. Grow. Oh man, this was like talking to Akela. And it made sense. Akela was a wild animal, so some concepts ¡ª such as patience and self-control ¡ª did not come naturally to him. The Tentacle Horror was a creature from the spirit world, equivalent to a wild animal. I wished I could have just resolved this with a small snack or a belly-rub. I didn¡¯t think either was possible. A snack would just enable it to exert more power over my own will, and that wasn¡¯t something I wanted to happen. And I didn¡¯t think Mr Instinct had a belly to rub. If it had one, I sure couldn¡¯t see or sense it. Wait. Where was Mr Instinct? I could sense its will, its thoughts, and as of late its growly words, but I couldn¡¯t see or sense its actual presence. Where was it? This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. No more waiting. Eat! Mr Instinct spoke, its voice grating on my mind. ¡®Shush!¡¯ I said. The Instinct sent some wordless, annoyed grumbling my way, which I interpreted as ¡°how dare you shush me¡±. I ignored it and started looking into my own body. Well, I didn¡¯t mean looking visually ¡ª I was feeling and sensing, using everything I had learned from studying Essence and of course Wensah herself whenever she graced us with her presence. So I looked and I felt and I sensed, and ¡­ nothing. I wasn¡¯t surprised. I had determined long ago that my real body existed on another plane, the spirit-world, and the beach-ball sized blob and my danger-noodles were either a projection or an avatar that could exist in the material realm, allowing me to ¡­ feed. Tilry wasn¡¯t sure how this worked, but she couldn¡¯t refute the theory, so I had accepted it as the closest thing to a fact. I had to look for something else. A connection. A portal. Some dimensional sinkhole or anything else crossing the boundary between the spiritual and the material. I was connected to Wensah by an invisible thread ¡ª she used it to siphon Essence from me, and probably to keep track of me ¡ª so I was sure my cute little avatar was connected to my real body out there in a similar manner. Slowly I tuned everything out. My vision faded first ¡ª I no longer saw Krissy, the orks, or the ship. That was fine, they were safe-ish. Then I started getting rid of my internal senses. I stopped feeling Jack¡¯s Room first. The Spirit-Room was next, and then my Mana-Pool¡¯s presence faded, too. I was almost alone in my own body, Mr Instinct and a vague sense of my Essence Pool the two things remaining with me. So this was how floating in a dark, empty void felt. I imagined a space-walk would be something like this. There was silence for a few moments. Or minutes. Or hours. I wasn¡¯t exactly sure. Then Mr Instinct got its bearings, and decided to continue with its tantrum. Eat more! Now! Its voice echoed in the darkness. ¡®Bad idea,¡¯ I said. It was a bad idea, but I doubted a Tentacle Horror would understand that if we went around eating everything and everyone, soon Wensah or some other god would hunt us down and destroy us. So, instead of trying to explain it, I looked intently as the Instinct kept whining like a child whose mom refused to buy him ice-cream. Need to grow! And there it was. As the Instinct spoke, I saw ¡ª or otherwise conceived of ¡ª a small patch of darkness that was even darker than the nothingness surrounding me. Hm. A ring. A tiny ring. The growly bitching of my Tentacle Horror Instinct was coming from that ring. I focused on this miniature gate of Mordor, and I suddenly felt like I was a camera with powerful lenses, zooming in on it. The ring became larger and larger until it filled my ¡­ well, field of vision. The circular thing was ¡­ black, and the inside was the most literal nothing I¡¯d ever seen. Not even black, or dark, or any other colour. It was the nothingiest nothing I had ever seen. The next thing I did, for the lack of a better word, was sniffing the ring. It smelled like Essence. Black Essence. Oh, so I did have a tiny amount of that stuff, didn¡¯t I? Well, thinking I knew my own body turned out to be a mistake, one I had to rectify now. I pulled a single EP from my Essence Pool. I felt it rushing out of the pool, and what do you know, it arrived in a fraction of a second, bursting out of the nothing the ring contained, along with another, aggressive plea of the Instinct. The ring of darkness really was a microscopic portal, wasn¡¯t it? Right inside of my body somewhere. I was sure the other side of it was the spirit world, more specifically, the body of the Tentacle Horror, and all the pools and rooms it contained. And the Instinct was there, too. Or perhaps it was the original Tentacle Horror itself, sticking a noodle in my human soul, trying to control me. The Essence whooshed around in the dark empty space like a jolt of electricity along a copper wire. I could sense it leaving a trail as it was bouncing between some weird objects like a pinball. Oh. My nodes. It was bouncing between my nodes. I willed the small bundle of Essence to go to one of my tentacles. Nothing happened, it just kept going around. Of course. Essence on its own wasn¡¯t the obedient sort, so I extended my senses, and I willed one of my tentacles to suck it into itself. I felt my spiritual muscles contract, drawing the Essence away, taking it to the tip of one of my tenties. Then it sat there doing nothing. Typical Essence. I instructed the tentacle to expel it and let it dissipate in the outside world. The Tentacle Horror Instinct groaned with exasperation. Less playing more eating! Well, I couldn¡¯t let the vile thing trick me into eating Krissy, so I wasn¡¯t done playing. I ignored the Instinct ¡ª it was easier than it had been minutes ago ¡ª and focused on the wee little portal to hell. There was more experimenting to do here. I could still feel the trail the Essence had left, leading back to the ring. Jack¡¯s Room was on the other side of it, too. How the hell could a physical object fit through the teeny-tiny portal? I knew what it did, now I had a chance to witness the how. I focused on Jack¡¯s Room. The ring darkened a little, and I felt a fraction of my consciousness reaching into the portal, landing in the room, getting a feel for the room itself and its contents. Hm. I quickly found a jar of tea. Earl Grey of course, the best and only tea Kevin¡¯s Spiritual Tea House was stocking. I pulled the jar out of Jack¡¯s Room. I felt Essence moving from my Essence Pool, entering Jack¡¯s Room, enveloping the jar. A quarter of an EP, perhaps less. And ¡­ there was some Mana, too. Huh. It was only a fraction of an MP ¡ª a tenth ¡ª going along with the Essence, without any explicit instruction from me. Such a small amount. Probably that¡¯s why I had never noticed it, but now that I was really looking, I was sure a minuscule amount of the magical substance was there. Without warning, that drop of EP-MP mix came through the portal, just like the full EP had done before. Except it felt different than its predecessor ¡ª I was certain that the small EP-MP-bubble was now different, and it had that jar of tea inside it, all laws of physics be damned. Who cared about matter, mass and size anyway? The bubble flashed through the space inside my avatar body, and vanished to the outside world. I supposed the tea had been delivered. I doubted Krissy was fast enough to catch it with her broken arm, so ¡­ it was probably a waste of a perfectly good, steaming jar of tea. Damn. However, this exercise answered a few questions. And raised a few more. My consciousness was on this side of the portal, but I was fairly certain my human soul was on the other along with everything else. I hadn¡¯t known consciousness could be separated from the soul, then again, until I had got to this world, I hadn¡¯t known the soul could be separated from the body, or that souls were even a thing. But more importantly, the portal itself was made of Black Essence, and it seemed to be a natural part of me. More than that, I was able to poke a consciousness-tentacle through it and rummage around the rooms and pools. Which meant it was ¡ª or should be ¡ª possible to get the entirety of my consciousness over to the other side, back into my soul, which was supposedly in control of the Tentacle Horror. Oh, if I could do that, I could do a little sightseeing in the spirit-world, have a look at my actual spiritual body and give Mr Instinct a what for. It seemed like the way to go if I wanted to ensure I wouldn¡¯t accidentally eat Krissy. Also, there was no time like the present. I gently pressed my entire being against the little portal, trying to test it a bit. The Instinct yelled at me with all it had. I was a little surprised ¡ª it wasn¡¯t the ¡°eat, eat, eat¡± chant it had been bombarding me with. Instead, I got a ¡°stop, you stupid cunt¡± kind of feel from it. Mr Instinct clearly didn¡¯t have much faith in me. Then I saw why. The ring began to crack the moment I had willed my consciousness to go through it. Shit. I shouldn¡¯t have done it, should I? I pulled myself back immediately, but the Black Essence of the ring began to morph, losing its circular shape. Oh shit! Did I break it? That was a good reason to panic, so I panicked. If that thing broke or collapsed, would it mean I couldn¡¯t access my pools and rooms? Or worse? Could my consciousness even survive without a path to my soul, or vice-versa? Oh shit. I had been called dumb before, but this was a winner. There was no emergency protocol here, and I watched helplessly as my will bounced off the Black Essence, my attempt at stabilizing it doing exactly nothing. The ring was falling apart now, or more like it was melting. Black Essence droplets formed then vanished through the deformed ring, as if going through a portal. And there was nothing I could do about it. All that was left to do was to force my metaphorical eyes shut, and brace for impact. There was no impact. Im. Pact. Lame word. How could there not be an impact? Or at least a lamepact? I was disappointed. And ¡­ groggy. I was feeling groggyyyy. Was that the word, though? Or wobbly-y? I wasn¡¯t sure, but it didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was the dark matter being sucked through the dimensional asshole. I should punch it. I should definitely puuuunch it. How dare that puckered, melting ring take away my dark matter? Dark matter mattered. To me. It was the best. Then, something grabbed me by the scruff of my non-existent neck, and pulled me. It was a bluuuurrrrrr. Yay! Then, I saw something. ¡®Ramming speeeeed!¡¯ I yelled at the galley. It didn¡¯t move. Oh yeah, I¡¯d eaten the engine. Fine, be like that! ¡®Cruising speeeeed! Kevin! You¡¯re back? I heard a voice. I squinted all my noodles, looking at the source of it. ¡®Krissssyyyy!¡¯ I greeted my girl. I was so happy to see her. That black ring had nothing on her. Then I saw something else. Shiiiit! I¡¯d seen that red dress before. She had nothing on Krissy either ¡ª although her blonde hair was graiiiit. I remembered that I disliked the owner of the dress. But it would be im-po-litical-ite not to greet her. ¡®Bitchy Biiiitch!¡¯ Chapter Sixty-three Chapter Sixty-three Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was happy she was wearing the stupid theatre mask, because her irritation was definitely showing on her face now. ¡®A few minutes?¡¯ she grumbled. It had been more than just a few minutes, and Kevin was still absent. Well, technically, Kevin hadn¡¯t broken his promise not to leave her again; he was here, probably, hovering somewhere behind or above her, but he couldn¡¯t have chosen a worse time to deal with his ¡­ personal issues. How could he just cut himself off from communicating with everyone, including her? That wasn¡¯t smart, not with a bunch of Orkuz Graal¡¯s marauders still sitting on the deck in front of her. This was still a dangerous situation, and now she couldn¡¯t understand a single grunt leaving the big, toothy mouth of the ork. Thankfully, the captain and his mossy-green crew seemed content to sit and wait for the elven higher-ups to decide whether to oblige them with duels or not ¡ª a decision she wouldn¡¯t know about, now that she was cut off from the rangers on the shore as well. The damn spirit was really riding the line between irresponsible and stupid. Actually, this was just stupid. Did familiars regularly do this sort of thing? What personal issue could be so important? She hoped, for his sake, that he would have a damn good, life-or-death reason for this, otherwise ¡­ ¡®The ships are nearly here,¡¯ Tomas stated nervously, disrupting her internal onslaught of complaints. The ranger had spent the last half an hour standing next to her chair along with Ferin. The two of them had been silent, mostly. The few and short whispered exchanges between them were too quiet for her human ears, but one glance at their faces was enough to know it was Ferin asking over and over whether the evil spiritualist was going to kill them too, and Tomas trying to assure her they were safe. The elves helped her to her feet, pretending to be not terrified of her. The orks murmured something and did a sitting-shuffle backwards. Seeing fourteen of the large brutes doing that in unison would have been a comical sight, had they been anything else other than a green mass of murder. It was a good thing they considered being killed by a spiritualist a less than ideal outcome. It was a good thing that apart from her and Tomas, no-one knew her familiar was taking a break from being useful and available. And it was a good thing Tomas had the good sense not to say anything. Tomas and Ferin helped her limp over to the railing. The sun was down, the moon was up, and all she could see were two, ship-shaped shadows. She was sure the elves could see a lot more than that. ¡®How long?¡¯ Krissintha asked. ¡®Ten minutes or so and they¡¯ll be side by side with us,¡¯ Tomas answered. He sounded confident in his assessment. But Kevin wasn¡¯t showing any signs of returning from ¡­ his personal issues. She would have to keep Orkuz Graal and his marauders calm without being able to talk to them, then she would have to explain to the navy-people what was going on, without having Dimal or Sini helping. Without Kevin she couldn¡¯t even remove the mask. It was stuck there. And if something unexpected happened? Easy. She¡¯d limp away and try not to break her other arm or sprain her other ankle. She exhaled long and hard. She should just leave this to Tomas, the actual ranger on board. But ¡­ maybe that wouldn¡¯t be enough. ¡®Tomas, can you get the others up here from the hold?¡¯ she asked. The ranger looked puzzled for a moment, then scared, but then he relaxed. Good. He understood why, didn¡¯t he? *** Tomas had been correct in his assessment. The two navy ships were arriving by the time the elven prisoners ¡ª or former prisoners ¡ª started to appear on the deck. Krissintha watched silently as the two ships maneuvered to either sides of the galley, getting into position so they could both send boarding parties over. The elves seemed to have put as much importance on aesthetics when it came to shipbuilding as they did with their architecture. Krissintha wasn¡¯t surprised; why would people who adorned their dwellings and buildings with relief patterns and actual statues, not do the same with their ships? Of course they did. But regardless of the ostentatious appearance of the vessels, she didn¡¯t know enough about ships to be able to form a professional opinion. The elven ships had more masts, the sails were a different shape, and the rigging looked infinitely more complex than the galley¡¯s. The quarterdeck of the elven ships were higher up then the galley, their crews were looking down on the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride from at least five or six paces above. If nothing else, the crews of the elven ships had the high ground. On water. The last of the liberated people arrived on the deck, and they started cheering and waving at the sailors on the elven ships as soon as they spotted them. Life was unfair. The most she had got from the liberated prisoners were fearful looks and conspiratorial murmurs. The Solace Navy had done nothing so far, except arriving painfully late to the party, and they got cheers. Life was harsh and unfair. The fifty or so archers lining up on the decks of the elven ships looked ¡­ confused, although with only the light of the moon and lanterns, Krissintha couldn¡¯t see them well. She imagined a cheering crowd wasn¡¯t what they had expected, and thankfully that was enough for the ship¡¯s officers not to order an opening volley of arrows. Other orders were barked, crew members worked, elven troops stood ready, and the two, beautiful Solace Navy ships were in position. The grappling hooks came first, from both ships, sandwiching the galley between them. Then the ramps appeared, also with hooks at the ends, plonking down on the quarterdeck of the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride, attaching to the railing. Then, finally, the first of the navy troopers set foot on the orkish ship. ¡®You know what to tell them?¡¯ Krissintha asked Tomas. The man nodded at her, and left her in the capable hands of Ferin, scooting over to the first of the arriving naval troops. This was probably the easiest boarding they had ever done. *** Each elven ship sent at least thirty men to board the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride, under the watchful eyes of their archers, who stood ready to put an arrow into anything they perceived as a threat. The navy-troopers ¡ª or marines, as Tomas had called them ¡ª came running down the ramps, half of them spreading out to search the deck, the other half surrounding the sitting orks, and of course Krissintha along with Ferin. Orkuz Graal grunted something and he moved to get up from the floor. Krissintha turned her head sharply, grunting something approximating orkish swearing, while pointing at him with her good hand, then gesturing him to stay seated. The ork made some unhappy noises, but he got the message and stayed down ¡ª his aversion to a dishonorable death by spirit seemingly stronger than his desire for a fight. This could have ended poorly, Krissintha thought. And it still could. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Tomas was already talking with one of the officers ¡ª a man wearing an elaborately designed jacket, an orange sash on his arm and a tricorn hat frighteningly similar to the one Orkuz Graal was wearing. The rest of the marines were keeping an eye on the orks, their spears leveled. Krissintha noticed some of them were eying her instead of the green menace. She couldn¡¯t really do anything else then eying them back and wait for Tomas to finish telling the three officers of the situation. The marines were a strange looking bunch. Krissintha was used to the practical simplicity of ranger gear, especially the dark green robes that helped rangers to blend in with their environment, which was mostly forests or fields. The marines wore uniforms consisting of bright blue jackets, or tunics, and white trousers. No robes, no hoods. Even their hair was cut shorter than shoulder-length, which was unusual for elves. The only difference she could see between the marines from the two ships was the embroidered emblems on the shoulders of their jackets ¡ª probably a sign to identify which ship they belonged to. They all carried short spears, and instead of proper swords they all had shorter blades or one-handed hatchets hanging on their belts. After a moment of considering this, Krissintha concluded that once a ship was spotted, individual stealth was meaningless, therefore it didn¡¯t matter what kind of garb the marines had. The short weapons, especially the hatchets, started to make sense, too. In a confined space, like a ship¡¯s cabins or passageways, shorter, smaller weapons seemed like a good choice. Except when the enemy ship was sized for orks where you could swing a siege engine and you¡¯d be fine. Everything seemed to be going well. Until the marine teams that had been sent out to secure the rest of the deck came back running, going straight to the officers Tomas was talking to. Krissintha wasn¡¯t quite close enough to hear everything clearly, but she was sure she heard the words ¡°evil spirit¡± and ¡°dead people¡± in the same sentence. The three marine officers looked at Krissintha, their eyes following Tomas¡¯ arm pointing at her. ¡®Oh, this will be good,¡¯ she muttered unhappily. Two of the officers marched to the ramps leading to their respective ships and went back, presumably to give their reports to their captains. One officer stayed with Tomas, looking rather pale all of a sudden, and the rest of the marines started to fidget nervously. Orkuz Graal grunted something. Krissintha looked at the green bastard, shushing him by putting a finger to the wooden lips of her mask ¡ª a sign she hoped was universally understood. She had no idea what was going to happen; by now the elven ship captains probably knew about the hundreds of spirit-kills, and were probably making decisions she would not like. Orkuz Graal looked like he was re-thinking his recent choices, and was considering things she would not like either. And to complete the picture, Ferin was shaking like a leaf, and Krissintha had to wonder whether the woman would run off or just faint. Damn it, Kevin, get back here! She made a futile attempt at sending a thought. A man appeared on the deck of one of the elven ships, standing over the ramp leading down to the galley. Krissintha had never seen a more elaborately designed and ornamented uniform. His jacket even had those shoulder-things she had heard were in fashion among Voysair army officers ¡ª epaulettes if memory served. His attire was complete with a tricorn hat and a feather jutting out of it. The one thing that kind of spoiled the visage was the small dog the well-dressed elf was holding in his arms. Was it even a dog? It was ugly, but ¡­ in a cute way. The man ¡ª the captain, surely ¡ª looked around quickly before stepping on the ramp and descending to the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride, followed by two officers. He exchanged a quick word with the officer who stood with Tomas, then they all marched over to her. The elven captain looked her up and down, frowned, then turned to his officers. ¡®As I thought. Rangers,¡¯ he said, his voice nasally and grating, very uncharacteristic of elves. ¡®What a sneaky bunch, getting on the enemy ship. Admirable. Truly admirable,¡¯ the man prattled on, smiling a smile Krissintha was sure was fake. The captain turned to her. ¡®I am Rimarle Alas, captain of the Righteous Wrath. Remove that ridiculous mask at once, and I will hear your report. But, I will not suffer any more of this spirit-kill nonsense.¡¯ Before his officers could show their agreement with the captain, or Krissintha could tell him to jump off the ship and drown, a sharp, angry yell came from the other ship. ¡®You idiot!¡¯ the female voice carried over to them. Krissintha and the illustrious company of the captain and his officers all turned towards the ramp connecting the galley to the other ship. A woman. She was as well dressed as the man, only lacking a feather in her hat and an ugly-cute dog in her arms. She strode down the ramp, jumped onto the deck of the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride, escorted by a couple of marines. She hurriedly walked to them, and stopped, facing the other captain. ¡®You can¡¯t possibly be this stupid,¡¯ she began insulting the captain, not even looking at Krissintha. ¡®Didn¡¯t your men tell you the ship¡¯s full of spirit-kills?¡¯ ¡®You came aboard, too,¡¯ Captain Rimarle Alas countered, sneering. She looked around. One of her marines nodded to her. ¡®It seems safe for now, somehow,¡¯ she conceded. ¡®But that¡¯s not the point. We should pack up the people and leave. Evil spirits are not a joking matter.¡¯ ¡®Bah! There is no evil spirit here,¡¯ the man laughed it off. Even his little dog barked once, as if to express his or her agreement. The man patted the creature on the head. ¡®Hush, Fifi, we¡¯re safe, don¡¯t you worry about a thing.¡¯ Krissintha would have agreed with the woman, normally, but the other captain was more or less right. They were safe for the moment. ¡®Then how do you explain the spirit-kills?¡¯ the woman demanded, scowling at the man. ¡®There are rangers here,¡¯ he said, pointing at Krissintha. ¡®It¡¯s obvious what happened here.¡¯ ¡®Is it?¡¯ the woman scowled even harder. There was something very familiar about her ¡ª her face, especially the way she scowled, reminded Krissintha of someone she knew. ¡®Of course. A few rangers sneaked onto the ship and poisoned their food or water. Rangers are like that, aren¡¯t they? You should know.¡¯ Both captains turned to face Krissintha, the man smiling, the woman scowling. Ferin gulped and almost took a step back, but she had to support Krissintha. A jar appeared in front of her, out of nowhere, hovering in the air for a second. Fifi barked and Krissintha moved instinctively to catch it. She regretted it instantly ¡ª pain jolted through her entire body as she took a half step forward, reaching to catch it with her good arm. She caught the jar, hissing through gritted teeth. ¡®That is ¡­ unusual,¡¯ Captain Rimarle Alas commented calmly, as if just mentioning how nice the weather was. ¡®Hm.¡¯ The other captain scowled so hard it seemed her face would turn inside out any moment. While the two captains didn¡¯t seem all that surprised or bothered, Krissintha was close to exploding at that moment. What the hell? Are you done with whatever you¡¯re doing? She demanded, but Kevin didn¡¯t reply, and it still didn¡¯t feel like the spirit was even hearing her. Damn! She racked her brain, trying to come up with an explanation that would not result in something disastrous. She came up empty, so she just held the steaming jar up and said, ¡®Tea?¡¯ ¡®Always,¡¯ Captain Rimarle Alas nodded, then yelled, ¡®Cups!¡¯ The other captain just sighed. A marine pushed his way through the crowd of ex-hostages and other marines, bringing an ornamented wooded box. The marine opened the box and offered cups to both captains. Beautiful teacups, on par with what Krissintha¡¯s mother used to use when serving tea to guests. Maybe it was a navy thing, but it seemed ship captains were ready for a nice cup of tea at any given time. The captains, both holding cups now, looked at Krissintha. She nodded, and poured tea for both of them, then handed the jar to Ferin. The captains sniffed the tea, then took a sip in unison as if they had practiced the move. ¡®This is good tea,¡¯ Captain Rimarle Alas said approvingly. ¡®Quite a unique flavour. Civat fruits, perhaps?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not bad,¡¯ the other captain nodded and took another sip. Incredible, Krissintha thought. Something as mundane as a good cup of tea, and not one but two ship captains stood there completely distracted. Perhaps there was a reason after all why rangers seemed to have a less than flattering opinion of the tar-lickers. Even the marine officers looked somewhat embarrassed. Ramming speeeeed! Kevin¡¯s voice suddenly filled Krissintha¡¯s mind, louder than ever before. She flinched, but before she could do anything ¡ª like thought-yell back at Kevin ¡ª the spirit yelled again. Cruising speeeed! Kevin! You¡¯re back? Krissintha inquired as forcefully as she managed to send a thought. Krissssyyyy! Kevin bellowed happily. Too happily. Something was wrong. Ferin suddenly jumped away from her. With her support gone, Krissintha¡¯s poor, twisted ankle suddenly had to support some of her weight. She hissed as the pain came, and she instinctively reached out for Ferin and grabbed her shoulder before falling flat on her face. She steadied herself, but from the corner of her eye she saw immaculate red fabric instead of the tattered, grey rags Ferin was wearing. She saw the two captains staring at something, their tea forgotten. She pulled herself upright and turned her head to look. Red dress, blonde hair, a beautiful face and the most vividly blue eyes she¡¯d ever seen. Oh shit. Bitchy biiiiiiitch! Kevin yelled excitedly. Chapter Sixty-four Chapter Sixty-four Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain stared at the goddess for a moment. The blonde woman glanced down at her hand grabbing her shoulder, then narrowed her eyes at her. But she didn¡¯t say anything, so Krissintha didn¡¯t let go ¡ª she was in no mood to fall flat on the floor, goddess or not. I¡¯m loving your new crutch. That¡¯s god-tier equipment right theeeere. Kevin cheered. Something was wrong with her familiar. Krissintha didn¡¯t know what or how, but it must have been bad if Lady Wensah was here. Just how stupid can you get, Stupid? The goddess unleashed her fury at Kevin, her words loud in Krissintha¡¯s mind as well. Now listen to me you most brainless of all spirits! You pull this sort of thing again, and I will ¡­ Yeah? You¡¯ll get rid of me? Who you gonna caaaall, Venkman? Kevin rumbled happily. It¡¯s Wensah, you insufferable ¡­ the goddess retorted, her godly face scrunching up, but she couldn¡¯t finish the sentence. Oh, whatever. Just don¡¯t cross the streams! It would be baaaad. What? Lady Wensah demanded, her eyes narrowing to a slit. ¡®The force is weak with this one. Kevin commented in the tone of a disappointed father in the process of giving up on his hopeless offspring. What the hell is wrong with him? Asked Krissintha. The idiot pushed against his internal portal, the one connecting his present manifestation to his actual body in the spirit world, and he damaged it. I fixed it, but some of the triple-refined Essence had already flown into the portal and caused minor damage to his soul, rendering him incapable of thinking rationally or controlling himself properly. She sputtered the explanation. Krissintha thought about this for a moment ¡ª she didn¡¯t understand most of it, but the loss of rational thought and control was ¡­ So ¡­ he¡¯s drunk. she stated. Well, I suppose it¡¯s an adequate comparison. Said the goddess. Is he going to recover? Krissintha asked, worried. The damage is small. He¡¯ll sleep it off and his soul will recover. A day or two. But I swear, if he does this again ¡­ Oh look, it¡¯s a pug! Kevin shrieked. A pug? The goddess and Krissintha asked at the same time. Krissintha felt tempted to ask what the hell a ¡°pug¡± was, but Kevin¡¯s drunken rumblings continued. Oh, Akela would cry if he saw this. Better get rid of the evidence of this evo-catio-nal ¡­ no, evolucri ¡­ this fucking dead-end. Krissintha snapped her head to look at Captain Rimarle Alas and the small, ugly-ish dog in his arms. An expression of unspeakable horror settled on her face ¡ª one no-one could see thanks to her mask ¡ª as the critter stiffened, then went limp in its owner¡¯s arm. You put that soul right back this instant, you hear me! Krissintha thought-screamed at the spirit. Awww, you¡¯re no fun. Kevin grumbled. And ¡­ Bob¡¯s your uncle. Suddenly the little dog lifted its head again and barked once. Krissintha stared wide eyed at this. Even Lady Wensah looked surprised. Neat. Didn¡¯t know I could doooo thiiiis. Kevin laughed, sounding a lot happier with himself than he had any right to be. Drunk Kevin was the worst. Krissintha exhaled sharply and realized that during the long seconds she had spent talking to a god and a drunk spirit, the elves were getting anxious. The orks, led by Orkuz Graal, were still sitting, watching the happenings, especially the goddess. It seemed they realized who ¡ª or what ¡ª the red dressed woman was. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Ferin was kneeling on the floor, clutching and pressing the tea-jar to her chest. She was crying now ¡ª this whole ordeal too much for her. Tomas was there, trying to console her. The captains were staring at Lady Wensah in astonishment, the marines lining up behind them, weapons drawn, waiting for orders and looking utterly confused. Luckily, Captain Whatshisname hadn¡¯t noticed his pet¡¯s misadventure ¡ª he would probably have ordered an attack otherwise. Krissintha knew she had to smooth this over ¡ª one wrong move from anyone here, and the poor, seafaring elves would quickly meet their ends either by a god, or a drunk spirit. She wasn¡¯t sure which would be worse. She straightened herself as much as she could, still leaning on Lady Wensah¡¯s shoulder. Kevin, take the mask off, please. She said to the spirit, hoping the simple task wouldn¡¯t be too much for him in his current state. The mask came off, but instead of vanishing like it usually did, it clattered on the floor. Ah, fine, it was just a mask. It was time to salvage this situation. ¡®I am Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain,¡¯ she announced. ¡®I work for the ¡­ Misery Island Bureau of Spirit Affairs.¡¯ She turned her head slightly to indicate the goddess, and said, ¡®This is Lady Wensah, our patron god, who in her wisdom and grace has decided to personally oversee the task Fenirig Arte of Third Rangers contracted us to do.¡¯ Well said, Krissintha, well said. Lady Wensah praised her. I wish I could have put your soul into that Tentacle Horror. Krissintha shuddered, and a sudden urge to jump into the sea and swim to dry land made an assault on her. Oi, that¡¯s just ruuuude! I¡¯m a perfectly serviceable Tricycle Horror. Kevin complained. Be quiet! Krissintha hissed at him. The two captains took a step back, looking at each other, probably some wordless communication as to how to deal with a god who had just appeared in their midst. The marines stood ready, but in the absence of orders, they didn¡¯t do anything. Except one, who came forward to collect the now empty tea cups from the captains. Are you ¡­ mad at me? You¡¯re mad at me, aren¡¯t you? Kevin asked, sounding like he was about to cry all of a sudden. Krissintha was in no mood to show mercy. I am mad at you. Pleeeeaase don¡¯t be mad. I¡¯ll make you pancakes. Kevin begged, wailing. Fine. If you stay quiet and make me ¡­ pancakes, I won¡¯t be. She hoped ¡°pancakes¡± weren¡¯t some soul-damaging spirit-fuckery that would lead to her downfall. Okay. Kevin sniffled. The captains seemed to have come to a conclusion. ¡®I am Fenirig Arla, captain of the Furious Fist,¡¯ the woman introduced herself, bowing her head to the goddess. ¡®While we are ¡­ honoured, I¡¯m sure our struggle against the barbarian marauders wouldn¡¯t warrant the presence of one such as yourself.¡¯ Krissintha almost nodded in approval ¡ª it was a nice, politely veiled way to ask a god what the hell she was doing here. She glanced at Lady Wensah, curious how she would respond. But instead of saying anything, the goddess looked around the deck of the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride for the first time ¡ª the orks, the dead crew members, the marines, and finally Krissintha. But the goddess didn¡¯t say anything, because ¡­ she didn¡¯t know what to say, Krissintha realized ¡ª god or not, she had no idea what was going on here. Krissintha sighed internally. Must she do everything herself? She turned to the captains. ¡®We, the Bureau, uncovered the involvement of a god in this attack on Solace,¡¯ she began the explanation. ¡®The barbarian spiritualists turned out to be servants of Sivera. The same Sivera who sends spiritualists every time an evil spirit appears, then demands to be allowed to set up a shrine in return for her so called help. We suspect she might even be behind the evil spirits in the first place, creating the excuse to send her people here. As such, Lady Wensah felt it might be wise to personally investigate.¡¯ What? Sivera? With these disgusting creatures? Are you sure? Lady Wensah immediately assaulted her with questions. The goddess had no idea, had she? Kevin heard their familiars mention Sivera. Replied Krissintha. Yeeees, the other bitch! Kevin interrupted, and was ignored. Oh. That¡¯s not good. None of us are supposed to be providing familiars to those idiots. The goddess moaned glancing at the orks. And the evil spirits? Are you sure it¡¯s Sivera¡¯s doing? No, probably not. But this is Solace and we need to give them a better reason for you being here than the drunk evil spirit on my shoulder. Krissintha explained. Presenting a common enemy usually works, my father used to do it all the time. Takes the focus off us. Sivera is that common enemy now, so we¡¯ll blame everything on her. Right, let¡¯s go with that. The goddess agreed. You¡¯re good at this. Rimarle Alas turned to Fenirig Arla and said, ¡®The human is wearing Third Rangers¡¯ gear, isn¡¯t she? I can see your father¡¯s hand in this.¡¯ ¡®Yes.¡¯ the woman sighed. ¡®I can see it too.¡¯ A-ha! Fenar¡¯s daughter is also ¡­ Fenar. Coinkydinks? I think not! Kevin yelled excitedly. Oh, so that¡¯s why she looks so familiar. Lady Wensah commented. Krissintha wanted to say something ¡ª she hadn¡¯t been expecting the goddess to know Fenirig Arte ¡ª but there were more important issues to settle first. ¡®Several teams from Fifth Rangers are waiting for us on shore,¡¯ she said to the captains. ¡®And?¡¯ Fenirig Arla asked, raising an eyebrow at her. ¡®They will confirm everything I¡¯ve said. We need to get the rescued people back to land as well as hand over our prisoners to the rangers,¡¯ Krissintha explained, gesturing at the orks behind her. But there was another reason why the captain might want help them get off the damn galley. ¡®Also, a trainee named Hiraken Sala is with the rangers. I believe you might know her, captain.¡¯ ¡®My niece?¡¯ the woman asked, surprised. Krissintha nodded. ¡®Prepare the barges!¡¯ Fenirig Arla bellowed without hesitation, much louder than Krissintha had ever heard an elf shout. Marines and crew members began the preparations immediately, and seeing how this was happening, Rimarle Alas gave the same order to his crew. Krissintha had had enough of this horrid adventure on the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride. She couldn¡¯t wait to have dry land under her feet, pass the responsibility of handling everything to the rangers, then collapse onto a bed ¡ª or at least some soft grass ¡ª and sleep for a day. Or two. I ¡­ feel ¡­ sleepy. Kevin said, then he did something that sounded like yawning. Chapter Sixty-five Chapter Sixty-five The answer to the age-old question no-one had ever asked was yes ¡ª a spirit was perfectly capable of having a hangover. Unfortunately. The head I did not possess hurt like hell, and I wished my vision had not returned to me, because the world around me was spinning. And by world I meant the room I was in. Then a somewhat nostalgic urge to throw up came over me. Luckily, I had neither the appropriate organs nor the contents to do so, but the discomfort I felt was very real. I tried to move my tentacles, and the reward for my effort was more pain. I had never felt the presence of the buggers so sharply and painfully before. But they moved ¡ª slowly and not exactly how I wanted them to ¡ª so there was that. I waited for the room to stop moving around like a drugged whirligig, and I contemplated what had happened. My memories were vague and spotty, but I distinctly remembered someone declaring me drunk on some sort of Essence, I had some recollection of a big bunch of elves in strange uniforms, and I was almost certain there had been a pug for some reason, whose soul I had briefly removed and then shoved back into its misshapen little body. I hadn¡¯t known I could do something like that with a soul, but that particular memory was fairly clear. I¡¯d have to conduct some experiments later, but the first order of things was to wait for the headache and the nausea to subside. Things stabilized over a few minutes, and I got a better picture of my surroundings. A dresser. A desk. A bed occupied by none other than my favourite host, Krissy. She was sleeping under a blanket, snoring quietly. I let out an imaginary breath of relief ¡ª she seemed to be alright. With one of my tenties running through her body, I could see she had proper casts on her arm and her leg, as well as a few bandages here and there. I hoped the only thing she needed now was rest. I moved my tentacles a little in order to see more. I could see the moon through the single window of the room ¡ª whether it was rising or setting I couldn¡¯t tell. And an armchair, containing Kitala Iwani, sleeping in a weird, half-sitting half-slouching position. And of course Tilry. The familiar snapped her head to look at me as soon as I moved, her pseudo-ponytail not bothering to mimic the flicking movements real hair would have done. ¡®Tilry,¡¯ I whispered to her as quietly as I could so as to not wake Krissy. ¡®Hey, you¡¯re finally awake,¡¯ the spirit whispered back. ¡®God, I hate that game,¡¯ I groaned silently, and I didn¡¯t wait for Tilry to ask what game I was talking about. ¡®What happened? Where are we? How long have I been, uhm ¡­ sleeping?¡¯ ¡®You ¡­ don¡¯t remember?¡¯ she asked incredulously. ¡®Wouldn¡¯t be asking if I did,¡¯ I said dryly. ¡®Tell me everything!¡¯ Tilry considered this for a moment, looking at her own, sleeping host. Kitala Iwani stirred, leaned over to the other side of the large chair, and began snoring quite a bit louder than Krissy. That made my headache flare up, but I managed to ignore it and focus on Tilry¡¯s account of events as she began to whisper. ¡®We¡¯re in Sek Artem. The elven marines had taken us to the shore, then sailed away. Kiwa and Arde carried Lady Krissintha and ¡­ you, and we made it to the city by this morning. Surgeons from Fifth Rangers treated her injuries, so she should be fine. She can even walk with those.¡¯ The spirit pointed at a pair of wooden crutches at one of the walls, then continued. ¡®Lady Wensah volunteered to conduct the interrogation of the green barbarians in your place. She spent most of the day doing that with some important looking elves, but I¡¯m not sure how it went. We spent the day with Lady Krissintha, you know, bathing, the treatment, then eating and resting. But when Lady Wensah came here, she seemed happy to have learned what Lady Sivera was up to. Then she vanished.¡¯ Oh. I had hoped it had been just a bad dream, but no, Wensah had really been here. At least she was gone. I mean, I would have expected her to wait for me to wake up, if for nothing else than to chew me out for ¡­ for whatever it was I¡¯d done. ¡®Why did she leave?¡¯ I asked. ¡®I think because that scary Hellspawn-elf showed up,¡¯ Tilry said, looking up at the ceiling. ¡®The Hellspawn ¡­ as in Fenirig Arte?¡¯ I asked, thoroughly terrified. Why was that horrible drill sergeant here? ¡®Yes, him,¡¯ the familiar said, nodding. ¡®When the important looking elves told Lady Wensah that the Hellspawn was coming, she just said ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m not dealing with that!¡±, and she just ¡­ disappeared.¡¯ On one hand, I completely understood the sentiment ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t necessarily want to deal with him either. On the other hand, Wensah was a god, for god¡¯s sake! Why would she not want to meet him? Did they perhaps know each other? Fenirig Arte hadn¡¯t recognised the name Wensah when we¡¯d told him who the Bureau¡¯s patron god was. Or maybe the man¡¯s reputation had reached even the gods and the gods put their hands up, saying they¡¯d rather avoid him? Was Fenar the Chuck Norris of this world or something? ¡®Alright, so ¡­ did the elves get what they wanted from the interrogation as well?¡¯ I asked. ¡®I believe so.¡¯ ¡®Is everyone else okay? The trainees, and Dimal and Sini? Oh! And are the orks still alive?¡¯ ¡®The trainees are fine. I mean, they didn¡¯t really have to fight, except for Arde. The others are fine, too,¡¯ Tilry said, then she sort of strained her translucent neck as if leaning closer to my body, hovering over Krissy¡¯s bed. ¡®And it seems the elves like the word you have come up with for the barbarians.¡¯ I just stared at her, not understanding what she meant. And since my body wasn¡¯t suited for the kind of body-language she was used to, she didn¡¯t realize I was staring at her, waiting for an explanation. ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Ork. Or orks. The elves like that word. Some of them started using it already instead of calling them ¡°greens¡± or ¡°barbarians¡±.¡¯ ¡®I see, I see,¡¯ I hummed, contemplating this development. I was leaving my mark on this world, wasn¡¯t I? Earl Grey then the word ¡°ork¡±? I wondered what else I could bless these people with. But that wasn¡¯t important right now. ¡®So ¡­ are the orks still alive? Or have they killed them already?¡¯ ¡®No, they¡¯re alive,¡¯ Tilry explained. ¡®The elves had agreed to these honorable duels they wanted. After that they pretty much answered any question the elves or Lady Wensah put to them.¡¯ ¡®Okay. And what happened to their galley?¡¯ ¡®They burned it. It fell apart and sank,¡¯ she replied. ¡®I think the remaining slaves went down with the ship. The orks didn¡¯t seem to care about them much.¡¯ That was a shocking piece of news. Not about burning the ork ship, but about no-one giving a second thought about the humans and few elves still on it. Well, I was in no position to talk about wasting human lives, not after having eaten a couple hundred of them. In fact, I could understand the elves not wanting to take those slaves into custody. They would have had to transport them, feed them, not to mention the security risk, and I doubted the poor sods had any useful information their green masters did not. It was a pragmatic approach, I decided, and left it at that. ¡®Did they say when these duels with the orks will be?¡¯ I asked. ¡®In the afternoon. It¡¯s almost morning now,¡¯ the familiar said. ¡®I heard someone say there will be a hearing today. Before the duels.¡¯ ¡®A hearing?¡¯ I asked, not quite sure what she meant. ¡®A hearing,¡¯ she repeated the word. That didn¡¯t help me much. ¡®What kind of hearing?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m not sure,¡¯ she said, shaking her head. ¡®A defense committee, or council, and something about some important people not being comfortable with an evil spirit being here. Oh, and about plans to go and kill more orks. Revenge or retaliation, I think. I didn¡¯t hear everything.¡¯ I would have exhaled long and sharp if I had the equipment to do so. Instead I just made my tentacles quake a little. It wasn¡¯t as satisfying, but it was enough to make Tilry visibly shudder, and I just had to be happy with that. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. A hearing. About me, obviously, because who else would count as an evil spirit in this place, other than me. Had Wensah not explained to them who I was? For someone who¡¯d been calling me stupid and useless for as long as I¡¯d known her, she was quite stupid and useless. Damn. I¡¯d have to ask Krissy ¡ª I was sure she was more in the loop than Kiwa¡¯s familiar, but ¡­ I didn¡¯t want to wake her. She needed her rest, she deserved it more than anyone. Since morning was still a few hours away, I decided I¡¯d look into my recent gains as well as try to figure out what had happened to me and Mr Instinct. *** I had a quick look around, just to make sure we were safe. With nine, 7.5 metres long tenties at my disposal ¡ª not counting the one I was using to stay connected to Krissy ¡ª I was able to peek through walls and anything else made of matter. It didn¡¯t take long to determine that we were in a barrack, similar to what I was used to seeing in Gal Themar, in the training compound of Third Rangers. Apart from a few guards here and there, the place was quiet. I was larger now, and my tentacles were coiling around, filling the small room. Tilry stared at them, turning her head back and forth between them. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was worried or fascinated, but I was beginning to understand the kind of horror and trepidation my presence would cause to the average familiar. As I started to think back to our mission on the galley, I was maybe a little scared of myself. I had eaten a lot, and it had been ¡­ easy. Well, not in the literal sense, as there had been some opposition, so much so that I had failed to protect Krissy. It had been easy in a sense that I¡¯d had no reservation and felt no remorse killing hundreds of people. And in the end of the day, they were people. Had I been wrong to go through that galley like a combine harvester through a field of wheat? Mr Instinct had certainly been in favour of it. I didn¡¯t think I had been wrong either, but not because of Mr Instinct ¡ª I needed to put my foot down and ignore or even push that guy back from now on ¡ª but because in that given situation, it had to be done. The result, as horrific as it may be, was what we wanted. What the elves wanted. We had saved thirty or so Solace citizens from a life of slavery and suffering. Would I do it again? I probably would, and based on what Tilry had just said, the elven leadership was already planning a retaliation-slash-rescue mission. The upcoming hearing was a bit of a concern, but if Fenar was here, my guess was that he¡¯d smooth things over and then insist Krissy and I participate in the upcoming expedition to punish the marauders. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t want an invisible weapon of mass destruction on their side, right? Weapon of mass destruction? Yeah, sure, whatever. I turned my attention to my body. *** The first thing I noticed was the thread that ran through my tenth tentacle, connecting my communication node to Krissy¡¯s. I remembered severing that connection, I didn¡¯t remember restoring it. It must have been Wensah. I wondered if I should be feeling violated, or at least uncomfortable, knowing she had rummaged through my insides. But she had done worse things, such as stealing the soul out of my dead body, so maybe this had been a minor procedure in comparison. I closed my metaphorical eyes and had a look at what else she had done. I began to drift into the darkness of my own being, back to the same place where I had found that little ring made of Black Essence. I remembered trying to push my consciousness through it. I remembered failing, and the tiny portal coming apart. My memories of what had happened after that were hazy at best, but that portal should have been in pieces. Instead, it was there, right as rain, as far as I could tell. I listened for voices that might be coming through it, but luckily, Mr Instinct was quiet. Or sleeping. Or something. Black Essence. It was good to know I actually had a small amount of it in my body, forming the ring, and I was trying to picture how a familiar might be using the Black Essence cubes, given to them by their respective gods, to enlarge the portal so they could return to the spirit world, reuniting their avatars and consciousnesses with their actual bodies. I, of course, knew better than to even try touching the ring again, so I steered clear of it. ¡°Let sleeping dogs lie¡± as the saying went. I withdrew from that weird inner space. As I did, I sensed something new there, something that hadn¡¯t been there before, or at least I hadn¡¯t noticed before. It was a thread, going through the portal. I was barely able to perceive it, but it was there, and it smelled like Wensah. She had really been in here, and I wondered if I could have or would have died without her intervention. ¡®Huh, my plot-armour¡¯s a bitch,¡¯ I mumbled just to myself. *** I returned to my normal senses ¡ª I once again saw the room, Krissy, Kiwa and Tilry. It was still dark outside, although I could see a faint glow over the horizon. Morning was coming, but neither Krissy nor Kiwa seemed like they were about to wake, so I focused on my recent growth. I had jumped from Level 31 to Level 34 in less than half a day. Level 35 required some 5700 EXP total. I had a about 1900 EXP banked already, so I figured if this orkish invasion was still ongoing, I might get lucky. Barring that, Orkuz Graal and his gang were still alive, and while they wouldn¡¯t be enough for another level, I wouldn¡¯t say no to it either. Apart from the obvious and observable growth of my body and tentacles, the available space for my pools and rooms had grown as well. I was absolutely unable to quantify this internal space, because what basis and what unit of measurement would I even use for something like this? That aside, I could now grow my Secondary Essence Pool or Jack¡¯s Room, but they were a decent size already, and I wanted to focus on my Spirit Room instead, because the familiar-costume I was planning to make required a lot of storage space. So, I got to work. Work consisted of mixing Essence with Mana, kneading them together, then adding a little Spirit-Stuff from my own body, kneading some more, then willing the new substance to go and incorporate itself into my Spirit-Room, expanding it. The process was slow, repetitive, but as the hours passed, my Spirit Room was slowly growing larger. Tilry wasn¡¯t moving. At all. She was like a spirit-statue looking at me with a constant, unchanging stare. I wasn¡¯t sure how much of what I was doing she could see or understand, but I was sure she was watching me. She wasn¡¯t like me. She was a proper familiar, a born spirit, and questions began to form in my mind. ¡®Do you not get bored?¡¯ I asked her. ¡®I mean, what¡¯s a spirit to do while the host is sleeping?¡¯ Tilry¡¯s four arms moved all of a sudden, kind of like a pantomime artist doing the robot. ¡®No. I¡¯m a familiar,¡¯ she said. It kind did and didn¡¯t answer my question. ¡®But ¡­ doesn¡¯t it bother you? Not being able to move, or do anything without Kiwa?¡¯ ¡®No,¡¯ she replied. ¡®Why?¡¯ I asked. Because it did bother me. Not that I was unhappy with being Krissy¡¯s familiar, far from it. I liked Krissy, and I always had things to do or to think about, just like I was expanding my Spirit Room right now. But Tilry or other familiars? I suspected spirits who were born spirits might have experienced things differently. ¡®I¡¯m used to it,¡¯ she said. ¡®And more things happen in the material world than in the spirit world.¡¯ ¡®Oh? Is the spirit world boring?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s ¡­ big. And mostly empty.¡¯ ¡®Empty? What about other spirits? ¡®There are a lot of spirits. Millions, I was told.¡¯ ¡®So it¡¯s not empty then.¡¯ ¡®No, it¡¯s empty. I didn¡¯t see another spirit for a long time after I was born.¡¯ Well, I couldn¡¯t honestly say I could picture the place, but it seemed the Spirit World had an extremely low population density. Maybe it was like the largely uninhabited steppes, or the great prairies, or a desert, where you could wander for days, weeks or even years before coming across another person. I couldn¡¯t imagine being born into a place like that and then not seeing another ¡­ person ¡­ wait! Born? ¡®Tilry, when you say born, what exactly do you mean? Do you have mommy and daddy spirit or something?¡¯ The familiar just stared at me for long moments, unmoving. ¡®I heard you weren¡¯t born a spirit,¡¯ she said. ¡®That¡¯s correct. I used to be human.¡¯ There was no point denying it was there. ¡®How are spirits born?¡¯ ¡®From Essence.¡¯ ¡®And?¡¯ ¡®And when we die we return to Essence.¡¯ After a mental exhale I considered this for a half a minute. As I had discovered, Essence was the basis for everything spiritual ¡ª Mana and Spirit Stuff were both variations of Essence, so what Tilry was saying was the local, spiritual equivalent of ¡°ashes to ashes, dust to dust¡±. It kind of made sense. ¡®Alright, talk me through this. You are born, from Essence, and then somehow you end up a familiar. How does that happen?¡¯ ¡®I was born. Then I waited,¡¯ she began her story, but I had to interrupt her right there. ¡®Waited? Didn¡¯t you ¡­ I don¡¯t know, go around, exploring? What about infancy? Did you have to learn things?¡¯ ¡®No. I knew there were many others like me as soon as I came into being. I couldn¡¯t move by myself, just as I can¡¯t move here without a host. So I waited. For a long time. Then Sivera found me. She¡¯s a grand spirit. She can move. And she can make what you called ¡°black Essence¡±. ¡®How did she become a grand sprit?¡¯ I asked. ¡®I don¡¯t know. Maybe she was a familiar for long enough to grow into one?¡¯ she said, shrugging with all four of her ¡­ arms ¡­ or shoulders. I knew that growths was the reason spirits were willing, or even eager to become familiars, so that wasn¡¯t news. ¡®Right. But ¡­ if spirits are born immobile, how did the first familiar become a familiar. How did it even know it could be done? And how did the first grand spirit become a grand spirit?¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ Tilry said, shaking her head. ¡®Oh, hold on now! If there is Essence over there, then why are gods and spirits come over here in the first place?¡¯ ¡®The Essence here in the material realm is raw. Over there it¡¯s not.¡¯ The answer came. ¡®Why is that?¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯ ¡®They don¡¯t teach history over there, do they?¡¯ ¡®No,¡¯ she said, and then asked a question of her own. ¡®How did you become an evil spirit?¡¯ It wasn¡¯t an unexpected question. Only Krissy knew the story, and I wondered if it was a good idea to tell Tilry, but in the end I couldn¡¯t come up with any compelling reason not to tell her. ¡®Wensah,¡¯ I said. ¡®When I died, she took my soul and worked it into the critter. She called it ¡°soul-surgery¡±. Don¡¯t ask how it works, because I don¡¯t know. And for the record, I¡¯m not evil.¡¯ Tirly considered it for a few seconds, then nodded. ¡®You¡¯re not a mindless predator, but you are growing too much and too fast for a familiar.¡¯ ¡®Does it scare you?¡¯ I asked. ¡®It did.¡¯ ¡®And now?¡¯ ¡®Now? I¡¯m ¡­ jealous,¡¯ she admitted. When flicked a tentacle towards her without saying anything, she realised I was waiting for her to elaborate. ¡®Kitala Iwani is my third host. When she dies, I will grow again. It¡¯s ¡­ slow, and I can¡¯t do it without a grand spirit¡¯s assistance.¡¯ That was true. My leveling was insanely fast compared to the average familiar, and I didn¡¯t have to depend on some semi-benevolent god¡¯s Black Essence to eat a soul. I could understand why she was jealous. I wanted to ask another question about how the whole process of a god assigning a familiar to a human or an elf worked. I also wanted to ask about Sivera. But the first light of the morning sun shone through the window, and Krissy stirred in her bed. Chapter Sixty-six Chapter Sixty-six I wanted to talk to Krissy immediately, but I found myself struggling to say anything. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t know what to say ¡ª there was a lot I wanted to talk about. Trying to muster up the courage to talk to her, was like standing in front of my parents or teachers before having to confess some wrongdoing. It even came with the sensation of the proverbial pit growing in my stomach. I was worried. And ashamed. I let her get injured. In fact, everything that had happened to her ever since we¡¯d met on Misery Island, had been mostly because of me. So, I just watched her. She tried to stretch as much as the casts on her arm and leg let her. The bed creaked as she managed to sit up, making enough noise to wake Kitala Iwani. I watched the elf woman help Krissy to the bathroom, help her wash, then put on her cleaned and ironed ranger clothes. I might have enjoyed the sight of their morning activity, had it not been for that feeling of guilt gnawing at me, and of course my long dead libido. Being a spirit after having lived as a human was such an unfair state of affairs. The two women left the barrack and headed for the compound¡¯s cafeteria. Krissy seemed to be able to move well enough using the crutch, needing only the occasional help from Kiwa. Tilry was quiet again ¡ª I felt like our conversation had depleted her reserve of spoken words for the foreseeable future. I hoped we¡¯d get to chat again soon, in private, with our respective hosts sleeping. The compound was similar to the one we had stayed at in Gal Themar. Paved pathways ran between buildings ¡ª barracks, offices, armory, storage blocks, the surgeon¡¯s and more. I could see a gathering of rangers on what must have been a parade ground or the training area, doing sword and spear drills or something like that. They all stopped whatever they were doing when we walked past them and stared at us in silence, thirty or so heads turning slowly, their gazes following us until we left them behind and reached the cafeteria. Krissy and Kiwa of course noticed this strange occurrence, but they chose to ignore it, just as they ignored the twenty something elves dropping their food and turning to look at them as they entered the building. Kiwa pointed at a table near the counter where the food was served. Krissy nodded, and they beelined there to join the four elves sitting there ¡ª Timo, Arde, Hisa and Scout Master Dimal. Timo, Hisa and Dimal had their eyes glued to the pair as they approached, then sat down at the table. That¡¯s when I realised they were gawking at Kiwa rather than Krissy. I should have known ¡ª Kitala Iwani was an exceptional beauty even amongst the elves, so that kind of explained all the googly-eyed men. And here I had thought Krissy was the star of the show, whose exploits on the ork pirate ship had earned her all the wonderstruck gazes. No real substitute for good looks, not even in this world. I wondered if I¡¯d ever bump into a spirit who¡¯d find me pleasant to look at. ¡®You¡¯re late,¡¯ Dimal said to Krissy, managing to tear his eyes away from Kitala Iwani. ¡®We¡¯ve got half an hour until the hearing, so eat quickly.¡¯ He pushed a plate and a cup of tea in front of her. ¡®I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re aware of this, but getting dressed with a broken arm is a slow affair,¡¯ Krissy retorted. ¡®You should try it once.¡¯ Dimal scowled at her. ¡®You¡¯re a ranger trainee. Rangers are always ready. And are on time.¡¯ Krissy and Kiwa looked at each other, then at the actual ranger trainees, who were trying to look anywhere but at her. ¡®Come on, Master Dimal, she took that ork ship down by herself,¡¯ Arde turned to the man to protest. ¡®And she¡¯s not that late.¡¯ Good man, Arde! Krissy had done most of the work on that ship, taking me around so I could eat the hell out of everyone. Even Timo and Hisa were nodding. And it seemed the elves had indeed picked up the word ¡°ork¡± and were using it already. Good man, Kevin! Dimal glared at Arde for a moment, then turned back to his breakfast of fresh bread and eggs. ¡®What¡¯s this hearing going to be about?¡¯ I asked, my speech-paralysis forgotten. Krissy dropped the fork she was holding and slammed her hand on the table, startling everyone. You¡¯re awake? When did you wake up? Why didn¡¯t you say anything? Are you alright? She began bombarding me with her thoughts. ¡®Yeah, just woke up not long ago,¡¯ I lied. She didn¡¯t need to know I¡¯d been up for a while now, did she? Tilry looked at me funnily, but she didn¡¯t say anything. ¡®I¡¯m fine, I think. Listen, uhm ¡­ are you okay? How are you feeling?¡¯ How do you think I¡¯m feeling? Her mental yell echoed in my mind. I cried myself to sleep last night. And where were you? Passed out drunk? What is wrong with you? ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I know you¡¯re angry ¡­¡¯ I tried to smooth it over, but she wasn¡¯t finished. You left me. Again. On the ship. Injured, and with a bunch of barbarians and navy officers. Personal issues? What the hell Kevin? She demanded. ¡®You think some pancakes will fix this?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ sorry. It was important,¡¯ I said. ¡®But ¡­ wait. Pancakes?¡¯ Important? Even Lady Wensah wasn¡¯t sure what you were doing and why. She said you nearly killed yourself. If she¡¯d been a few seconds late, you would have died. And your drunken tirades? Just how stupid can you get? And yes. You promised me pancakes, whatever the hell those are. Once again I found myself unable to say anything. I wanted to explain to her about Mr Instinct ¡ª who was quiet, luckily ¡ª but I wasn¡¯t sure it was a good idea to do it now. Maybe later, once she calmed down. Or maybe I could get Wensah to fix this for me without Krissy ever knowing. I didn¡¯t want her to worry. Other than that, I didn¡¯t know what to say. She wasn¡¯t wrong ¡ª from her perspective I had just disappeared in the worst possible moment. And I was failing to come up with an excuse. Maybe some pancakes would calm her down. Huh! No reply? She scoffed mentally. Fine. We¡¯ll talk about this later. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡®What¡¯s wrong?¡¯ Arde asked Krissy. ¡®Kevin¡¯s back,¡¯ Krissy told him, almost hissing. ¡®Hm. Good,¡¯ Dimal said, shrugging. ¡®Good indeed,¡¯ Krissy grumbled. Huffing, she turned back to her own breakfast and proceeded to eat. Everyone watched her without saying a word. They let her finish her breakfast, and we all headed over to the building that housed the leadership of Fifth Rangers, and was to be the location of the hearing. *** The large, three storey building looked similar to the administrative centre of Third Rangers back in Gal Themar. I believed this was where we¡¯d find the office of the much heard of but not yet seen Master of Fifth Rangers. I tried to recall the name of the man. Sivaren Rols, I thought. It kind of bothered me that the elves were using the title ¡°master¡± for someone who was obviously a general, mostly because they used the same word for other things as well. Scout-master was one, and the word was also the polite way to address someone, akin to mister or sir. Titles aside, I hoped that Master Sivaren Rols was going to be a less foul-mouthed, more reasonable version of Fenirig Arte. Then there was the so called ¡°Defense Committee¡±. From what I had heard during my time here, they were the equivalent of the MOD, or Ministry of Defence, and they were in overall charge of the defense policy of Solace, including the two main branches of their military: the Rangers and the Navy. I had heard talk about town militias and city guards ¡ª mostly a thing in the cities in the west of Solace, where all the trade with the continent was conducted. From what I understood they were also operating under the Defence Committee, but were more akin to a police force than military, and rangers looked down on them as much as they looked down on the tarlickers. Rangers were quite the elitist bunch, but I couldn¡¯t deny that they were probably the best Solace had to offer. A couple of guards ushered us into the foyer of the building. Krissy¡¯s crutch clanked loudly on the polished, stone floor as we walked inside. From a group of ten or so people loitering there, a well dressed woman rushed to us the moment the doors shut behind us. I was getting the hang of estimating how old an elf was. Had the woman been human, I would have said she was a magazine model in her mid or late thirties. Which meant she was probably at least two-hundred years old. Or older. She had the pointy ears and silvery hair characteristic of elves, and a broad smile on her face, the kind I didn¡¯t often see around here. Dimal bowed his head to the woman, and so did the trainees. Krissy and Kiwa followed suit a second later. The woman looked at Hisa, her smile widening to the point I was wondering if it was some sort of trick or illusion, because how on earth could anyone have such an unnaturally huge grin on her face, elf or not? ¡®Hisa, my darling, how are you? How was your first taste of real rangering?¡¯ the woman asked the girl, her voice sweet as honey. ¡®I¡¯m well, thank you,¡¯ the young trainee replied, her face reddening. ¡®It was ¡­ a valuable experience.¡¯ ¡®Oh, I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡¯ the woman nodded then she turned to Dimal. ¡®Scout-master ¡­¡¯ ¡®Dimuren Alte,¡¯ he introduced himself. ¡®Well, Dimuren Alte, thank you for looking after our young trainees,¡¯ she said to him, ¡®It¡¯s a horrid state of affairs we find ourselves in, but it also serves to prepare and harden the next generation of rangers, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯ ¡®Certainly, councilwoman.¡¯ Dimal bowed his head again to the woman. The councilwoman ¡ª the title indicating she was a member of The Solace Council, and likely of the Defense Committee ¡ª turned her attention to Krissy, the only human around. Another person who turned her attention to us was a younger looking woman, standing and talking with a group of people some five or six metres from us. I didn¡¯t know who she was, but she was well within the reach of my invisible tentacles and therefore my vision. The woman was definitely watching us. Well, I supposed spiritualists were kind of a novelty, so I let it go, and focused on our own conversations. ¡®You must be Misery,¡¯ the older councilwoman stated. ¡®I have heard much about you.¡¯ Krissy steadied herself, holding onto her crutch, looking into the woman¡¯s eyes. ¡®I am,¡¯ she replied confidently. ¡®I believe we haven¡¯t been introduced yet.¡¯ ¡®Of course.¡¯ The woman nodded, that wide smile still on her face. Wasn¡¯t all that smiling hurting her? ¡®I am Korolan Mirei. I am a member of the Defense Committee.¡¯ ¡®Pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡¯ Krissy took the hand the woman offered and shook it. This was the first time I saw an elf doing a handshake. Perhaps she was trying to show some goodwill by using a predominantly human gesture? I wasn¡¯t sure. ¡®I take it Misery isn¡¯t your real name?¡¯ Korolan Mirei said. ¡®It¡¯s a nickname that stuck. Perhaps you¡¯ve also heard about the mask I sometimes wear? It¡¯s because of that. My full name is Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain,¡¯ Krissy explained, and the councilwoman nodded. That revelation visibly fazed the trainees more than it did the woman. Thinking back, I realized none of them actually knew Krissy¡¯s real name. It had been Misery-this, Misery-that ever since the first elf we¡¯d met ¡ª none other than Tovaron Ento ¡ª gave her the nickname. ¡®Interesting name,¡¯ the councilwoman commented. ¡®Mainlands nobility? From the south, perhaps?¡¯ ¡®My father was a baron. In Thyssa,¡¯ ¡®Was?¡¯ the woman inquired, her smile finally fading. ¡®Is it because of the recent civil war, if you don¡¯t mind my question?¡¯ ¡®My family stayed loyal to the rightful king. The usurper didn¡¯t take kindly to that.¡¯ Krissy replied, sneering. ¡®I can imagine. And I am sorry for bringing it up,¡¯ the councilwoman said, her tone suggesting she meant it. ¡®As I said, I have heard a lot about you, but my husband tends to overlook details he deems unimportant or uninteresting.¡¯ ¡®Your ¡­ husband?¡¯ Krissy and I asked at the same time, my voice only heard by my host. ¡®Fenirig Arte,¡¯ she said, her smile returning to her face. ¡®You have been training under him, haven¡¯t you? Has he not mentioned me at all?¡¯ Krissy¡¯s mouth hung open. So did everyone else¡¯s, except Hisa¡¯s ¡ª her face went beet-red instead. This was Mrs. Hellspawn? And Hisa¡¯s grandmother? ¡®Hm. I take it he hasn¡¯t.¡¯ The woman shook her head. ¡®No. I¡¯m afraid not,¡¯ Krissy said, trying not to look at the woman. ¡®Good. Honesty is good.¡¯ Mrs. Hellspawn nodded. ¡®The presence of a powerful spiritualist is a concern in and of itself, and the appearance of a god in our midst has rattled quite a few people. Especially those on the council who remember the times before Solace. You will be asked some questions,¡¯ Fenar¡¯s wife explained, then she sighed. ¡®Honesty is good, but truth can be ¡­ a tricky thing sometimes. Just ask my husband, he would know. He seems to have a high opinion of you. Unusual, really, I¡¯m sure you noticed he has a tendency to dislike everyone.¡¯ ¡®I have noticed that,¡¯ Krissy agreed with the woman. Korolan Mirei just smiled at her and said, ¡®Now, before the hearing starts, tell me about your patron god. I heard she appears as a woman wearing a red dress.¡¯ Krissy thought about it for a few moments, probably gathering her thoughts on the matter. She promptly ignored me when I suggested the main feature of the goddess was ¡°being a pain in the ass¡±, and she proceeded to explain what she knew of the goddess. Which wasn¡¯t much. In all fairness, even I didn¡¯t know Wensah very well. I¡¯d seen her only a few times, and my interactions with her were far from amiable. But Krissy did a good job being as vague and diplomatic as possible. Mrs. Hellspawn kept humming and nodding, listening to Krissy¡¯s abridged and incomplete account of events, not lying, but not telling everything either. When she was done, the councilwoman¡¯s smile vanished, the look in her eyes suddenly as serious as a heart-attack. ¡®Do you think it would be possible for me to meet your patron god? Sometime after the hearing? In private?¡¯ ¡®May I ask why?¡¯ Krissy asked, sounding worried. ¡®It¡¯s a ¡­ personal matter. I know gods don¡¯t just appear to us mortals because we want them to, but your patron god and I might have an acquaintance in common. Someone I would like to ask her a few questions about.¡¯ Kevin? Krissy turned her thoughts to me. ¡®I¡¯m not sure. I think I can get her to appear if I cut the supply of Essence to her. Or poke around that portal again, which I don¡¯t want to do. So ¡­ maybe. No promises.¡¯ ¡®It may be possible, but I can¡¯t make a promise,¡¯ Krissy said to her. ¡®That¡¯s all I can ask,¡¯ the councilwoman said, smiling again. A bell¡¯s chime filled the air, and everyone began climbing the stairs, leading up to the first floor. ¡®The hearing is about to start. Remember, Krissintha, the truth is a tricky thing sometimes.¡¯ Chapter Sixty-seven Chapter Sixty-seven ¡®The truth is a tricky thing?¡¯ I echoed the words of Fenar¡¯s wife as we filed into a room on the first floor, following a number of other people I didn¡¯t recognize. The councilwoman walked over to the other end of the room and joined three important looking elves who were already sitting at a table, organizing stacks of paper ¡ª they must have been the rest of this famous Defense Committee. The woman who had been watching our short conversation in the foyer like some kind of spy, also walked to the same table and sat down. Behind them, at a separate table, sat two men, stacks of paper and pots of ink and pens in front of them, ready to write everything down. Dedicated scribes, I deduced. Tricky thing, huh? My father used to say that, too. Krissy commented. Dimal got a chair for her and motioned her to sit down. She was happy to do so, leaning her crutch against the wall. The others stayed standing. Someone came along to offer her a cup of tea. I hadn¡¯t seen this sort of thing in the normal, day-to-day operation of a ranger¡¯s compound ¡ª I supposed the servers were a part of the staff the Committee members had brought with them from wherever they were based. Maybe, during a break, we could sneak some Earl Grey to them and see if the committee people liked it. I didn¡¯t know why it had never occurred to me to ask someone about elven government. I knew there was the Solace Council ¡ª the main decision-making body ¡ª and that there were a number of committees dealing with different aspects of governance. But I had no clue where they were based. Hell, I didn¡¯t even know if Solace had a capitol city or not. I knew the names of a few towns, such as Gal Themar, where Third Rangers had their base, or Sek Artem, where we currently were. I had heard Rok Ternem mentioned ¡ª a port city on the western coast of Solace, where most of the trade with the Mainlands happened. But rectifying my woefully uninformed state had to wait. It seemed everyone who was supposed to be here had arrived ¡ª some of them I recognised, some of them I didn¡¯t ¡ª and the Defense Committee members seemed ready to begin. Sini was here with a few rangers I¡¯d seen before, standing not far from us. Tomas, Ferin, and a few other elves I recognised from the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride were sitting on chairs, looking nervous. The last two people to enter the room were none other than Master Fenar, and an equally dangerous looking ranger, whom I guessed to be Sivaren Rols, Master of Fifth Rangers. The fact that Dimal, Sini, and even Tomas straightened themselves upon seeing the men coming in, pretty much confirmed my suspicion. The council members all stood and bowed their heads in greeting to the people, announced that this was a sub-committee of the Defence Committee, then proceeded to introduce themselves to the room. I had a feeling most of those present already knew them and this was just a formality. Councilwoman Korolan Mirei ¡ª also known as Mrs Hellspawn ¡ª we knew already. I was sure Fenar was calling her Komi at home. The woman who¡¯d been gracing us with suspicious glances in the foyer was Krisoret Itani. She was a young-looking woman, in her early one hundreds by my estimate. I figured her casual name would be Krisi. Elven names were weird as always, but as far as I was concerned there was only one Krisi and it wasn¡¯t her. It was my Krissy. Something was going on between Mrs Hellspawn and Fake Krisi. Most people probably missed ¡ª or ignored ¡ª the hostile glances the younger committee member shot at Fenar¡¯s wife, but I had a tentacle hovering nearby, and I knew disdain when I saw it. But the introductions weren¡¯t done yet, so I focused on that. Levoten Armat, sitting between the two women, was an unusually tall man, even for an elf. He must have been quite old; I could see wrinkles developing around his eyes. He also had the somewhat annoyed expression of a man who wasn¡¯t sure why he had to be here when he had better things to do. The next committee member was Simiten Ralf, sitting on Mrs Hellspawn¡¯s right. He wasn¡¯t a young one, and he looked familiar. After staring at him for a moment or two, I remembered where I¡¯d seen him before: he was the Defense Committee liaison I¡¯d seen with Fenar, when we¡¯d first met him, right in the middle of the evil spirit kerfuffle. The last of them was Gautal Sev, a man who looked to be about the same age as Krisoret Itani. He was sitting on the woman¡¯s left, smirking for some reason, but then he shot a less than friendly glance at Fenar¡¯s wife, just as his colleague had done moments before. I wondered if these people were elected officials. I remembered someone saying that Mrs Hellspawn was a permanent member of the Solace Council, so maybe they weren¡¯t. I had never been overly interested in government affairs, but suddenly I was curious enough to consider asking someone about this in the future. ¡®What do you think this is about?¡¯ I asked Krissy. I haven¡¯t been told. But ¡­ from what I remember, whenever my father called meetings like this, it always ended poorly for someone. Usually for someone whom he wanted to have humiliated. Or executed. ¡®Oh. Are they trying to get us? Are we on trial?¡¯ I don¡¯t think so. We¡¯re outsiders. Besides, if they were that worried about us, we wouldn¡¯t be in the same room with all the important people. We¡¯d be locked up somewhere. I was happy Krissy was talking to me normally after how badly our breakfast conversation had gone, but I wasn¡¯t liking this whole business with the committee. ¡®Then, why are we here?¡¯ Could be just the way they do things here. Or could be political. Krissy speculated. I found it a little strange Master Fenar¡¯s wife coming to talk to me before the hearing. She didn¡¯t tell us anything relevant, did she?¡¯ ¡®No, not really. The truth is tricky was all she said. By the look of it there¡¯s no love lost between the fake Krisi and Mrs. Hellspawn, so that looks tricky enough.¡¯ The fake ¡­ what? Oh. Yeah. Fake Krisi. She realised what I meant, squinting at the committee members sitting at the table at the other end of the room. The committee members sat down. Except Krisoret Itani. The young councilwoman stayed standing and began the proceedings. ¡®Thank you all for attending this hearing,¡¯ she began her speech, scowling like there was no tomorrow, giving a nasty look to Fenar¡¯s wife. ¡®We have disturbing and potentially dangerous issues to discuss, so let¡¯s begin.¡¯ ¡®Oh, this will be good,¡¯ I mumbled. *** The council proceeded to call the witnesses, and I was beginning to feel we were indeed on trial, for most of the questions were about Krissy and I. Dimal and Sini were the first. They answered all questions, recounting everything that had happened from the moment we¡¯d met them. They commended Krissy¡¯s dedication to the mission, praising her for willing to put herself at risk, and indeed getting injured during action. They didn¡¯t skimp on the details of the communication abilities I had provided, and even acknowledged that the ¡°blonde patron god-thing¡± had been of tremendous help in interrogating the captured orks. So far so good, nothing out of the ordinary, only a few leading questions from Krisoret Itani and her partner in crime, Gautal Sev. They were trying to steer the focus onto the dangers of unruly spiritualists, while Mrs Hellspawn and the liaison guy were trying to do the opposite. After the scout-masters, Tomas, Ferin, and the few elves from the galley were next. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. They told the committee about everything they had experienced, from getting kidnapped by the orks to the moment of their liberation ¡ª the scary spiritualist, the Navy, and of all things a god. Listening to their testimonies made me realise what a terrifying experience the whole ordeal had been for them, and in all honesty, I couldn¡¯t blame them for being as scared of Krissy and me as they were of the orks, if not more. They made it clear they were thankful for the rescue, but their worried glances in our direction weren¡¯t exactly flattering. Fake Krisi had a field day with that, asking question after question, getting them to describe everything they saw in gory detail. The committee members¡¯ reactions were varied. Apparently, the kind of things I had been doing was in the domain of gods and evil spirits, not familiars, and the survivors¡¯ account of events made everyone in the room visibly uncomfortable. Maybe I was just paranoid, but these people ¡ª or at least Fake Krisi and his henchman Gautal Sev ¡ª were out to get us. I wasn¡¯t sure to what end, though. Perhaps they were just trying to put us on a ship and expel us from Solace. I could live with that, but if they sought something like ¡­ execution, that was not going to end well for anyone involved. Once the rescued people were done, the committee moved on to questioning the Third Rangers¡¯ trainees. They weren¡¯t able to provide any important information the committee hadn¡¯t already heard from the others, except their personal experiences with Krissy and I during training and our trip to Sek Artem. I was pleasantly surprised by the positive light in which the trainees portrayed us. I hadn¡¯t expected anything less from Arde and Hisa, but even Timo managed to put an emphasis on how much he respected Krissy for her determination during her training, as well as all the useful abilities her familiar had been providing. I noticed that out of the five members only four were asking questions. The fifth, possibly the oldest among them, Levoten Armat, was listening quietly, constantly taking his own notes. Maybe he didn¡¯t trust the scribes to do a good job. Finally, the inquisition got to the Master of Third Rangers. ¡®Master Fenirig Arte,¡¯ Krisoret Itani began grilling the man. ¡®Having heard about the events of the past few days from those who were directly involved, would you agree that Third and Fifth rangers were insufficiently prepared to deal with the ongoing invasion of the barbarians?¡¯ Fenirig Arte sighed ¡ª a sign of annoyance or exasperation, probably. The Master of Fifth Rangers, Sivaren Rols, looked outright furious. But he stayed quiet and let his colleague do the talking. ¡®No, councilwomen, I don¡¯t,¡¯ Fenar said, trying to sound calm and collected. ¡®We are always at the ready.¡¯ ¡®Yet you sought outside help. Very dangerous help that could have proved and could still prove to be detrimental to the safety of our nation.¡¯ the woman pressed on, looking at Krissy and Kiwa. Komi ¡ª I was just going to call Fenar¡¯s wife Komi ¡ª rolled her eyes. Quite visibly. I think I know what¡¯s going on. Krissy sent her thoughts to me. This isn¡¯t about us. This is that woman trying to discredit the rangers. Or maybe just Fenar. I don¡¯t know why, though. ¡®If you¡¯ve read any of my reports, councilwoman, Third Rangers¡¯ relationship with the spiritualists of the Bureau precedes current events, and their conduct has been good,¡¯ Fenar explained, still trying to be calm, but the venom in his voice was leaking out. Unfortunately, the young and irritating councilwoman didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡®And what is the relationship exactly?¡¯ the woman asked, not looking at Fenar, but looking at Krissy with a weird smile on her face. ¡®I¡¯d like to hear it from the spiritualists themselves. Would you mind introducing yourself and explaining?¡¯ Krissy nearly flinched sitting on her chair. She reached for her crutch, but Fake Krisi just waved her hand, motioning her to remain seated. ¡®I am Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain. I¡¯m better known by the nickname Misery,¡¯ Krissy began, then paused, sending me her panicked thoughts. What am I supposed to tell her? Relationship? I was just doing some training, that¡¯s all.¡¯ ¡®Oh, I see. ¡°The truth can be tricky, Fenar would know.¡± I remembered Komi¡¯s words, and now I knew why she had said them to us. I stretched one of my tenties across to Fenar while quickly making a short communication thread out of Essence and Mana. To his credit, not a single muscle on his face moved as I connected the thread to the node in his soul. Finally! He almost yelled at me once I was done, his words slamming against my mind, and through me, to Krissy¡¯s. Now. This is what you tell that damned witch. Krissy was quick on the uptake, not to mention good at paraphrasing Fenar¡¯s words in a way that made it sound like her own. ¡®I have signed a contract with Fenirig Arte.¡¯ she recounted the fictional event. ¡®My copy of it is in Gal-Themar. No-one told me what this meeting was going to be about so I wouldn¡¯t have it on me anyway. The contract itself is about martial training for myself in exchange for assistance to Third Rangers should they need it. But the contract is more of a personal matter for me, and secondary to the main reason I¡¯m on Solace.¡¯ ¡®And what is the main reason you are here?¡¯ Fake Krisi asked. ¡®To investigate,¡¯ Krissy stated while listening to Fenar¡¯s quasi-telepathic instructions. ¡®To ¡­ investigate?¡¯ the councilwoman raised her eyebrows. It was obvious this wasn¡¯t the answer she had expected. ¡®To investigate what?¡¯ For the first time, the tall and old elf looked up, his eyes settling on us. Huh! Finally, something other than his own notes caught his interest. ¡®Well, I believe you¡¯re familiar with the name Sivera,¡¯ Krissy said, looking straight at the councilwoman. ¡®I know Solace tends to keep out of the business of gods. I tend to do the same, but our patron god ordered us to investigate the possibility of Sivera¡¯s involvement in both the barbarian raid and the recent evil spirit incident. You might have heard or read reports about the interrogation of the green fellows?¡¯ Fake Krisi and her cohort, Gautal Sev began to browse through the papers in front of them. I¡¯d have been fucking surprised if the brats had read the most recent reports. Fenirig Arte chimed in. What is this about? It¡¯s tedious and it has nothing to do with us, does it? Krissy asked through the voice-chat. No. This is about a vote in the Council next year. Some of them have some stupid ideas about budget distribution and the establishment of a standing army. The man in the middle, Levoten Armat. They¡¯re trying to win his vote by portraying me and rangers in general as incompetent or inadequate. Fenar said, his thoughts radiating some sort of anger, or at least disdain. As far as I was concerned Fenar absolutely deserved to be discredited. Contracts? Investigations? For god¡¯s sake, the only reason we had ended up staying here was because Krissy had asked to be trained on an impulse, and Fenar had agreed, also on impulse. And not a good one. I would have loved to see Fenar being dragged through the mud for a change, but I still wasn¡¯t sure what exactly was going on. Before Krissy or I could ask him to clarify a few things ¡ª and this affair definitely needed to be explained better ¡ª Fake Krisi finished going through her papers and turned to Fenirig Arte. ¡®I see. Regardless, for rangers getting involved with the affairs of gods is not a good idea. We have a tradition not to do so. Worse, you have admitted a spiritualist into your ranks, your training compound, one whose familiar acts like an evil spirit. And to make things even worse, a god made a personal visit. Have you considered that a god that endorses a familiar that acts like an evil spirit would be dangerous?¡¯ the woman demanded, glaring at the ranger-general accusingly. ¡®A familiar like this is unheard of.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not unheard of, not if you¡¯ve read any history at all.¡¯ Fenar scoffed. ¡®Are you implying I don¡¯t know our own history?¡¯ the woman demanded angrily. ¡®No, I¡¯m implying you don¡¯t know much about gods and spirits,¡¯ Fenar retorted. ¡®And you do?¡¯ ¡®I do,¡¯ he stated, then gestured towards Krissy. ¡®Is her familiar powerful? Yes. Is it dangerous? Would be if the creature wasn¡¯t a pushover.¡¯ ¡®A what?¡¯ Fake Krisi asked. ¡®A what?¡¯ I asked, too. ¡®Seriously? Krissy, tell him I¡¯m not a pushover! Tell him this instant!¡¯ I demanded, half-screaming into her head. Shush! Not now. Krissy hissed at me. I quieted down. But no. I¡¯d be just proving Fenar¡¯s words if I took this lying down. I opened my metaphorical mouth to demand Fenar to take it back, but I didn¡¯t get to do so. ¡®Misery, did your familiar tell you to tell me it wasn¡¯t a pushover?¡¯ he asked. ¡®He ¡­ did,¡¯ replied Krissy. ¡®And?¡¯ the elf prodded. ¡®I told him to be quiet,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®And?¡¯ ¡®And now he¡¯s quiet,¡¯ she said. Fenar turned back to face the committee with a half-smile on his scarred face. ¡®There is a difference between powerful and dangerous,¡¯ he said, and didn¡¯t expand on the topic. ¡®When we left Fayr-Sitan to settle here, we swore we¡¯d not give in to the influence of the gods ever again. I remember, I was there,¡¯ the man said, looking each member of the committee in the eyes one after another. I seriously doubted the two younger council members had been there. ¡®I also remember we didn¡¯t explicitly forbid spiritualists ¡ª or gods for that matter ¡ª to set foot on our land. Now a god is trying to exert influence on us, and another one is trying to stop it for her own reasons. I am making the best of the situation.¡¯ One of these days I had to study up on Solace history. Also, I was surprised how Fenar was managing to utter whole sentences without any swear words. Then again, he wasn¡¯t talking to some lowly, pushover familiar who could kill him with a flick of a tentacle, or some hapless trainees ¡ª he was convincing a government body that he was a responsible Master of Rangers. ¡®That may be so, but surely you are able to see the risk the god and the familiar poses, are you not?¡¯ the councilwoman demanded. ¡®I considered every risk. That¡¯s why I signed the contract with her.¡¯ Fenar said. I was sure that was a lie. He had just wanted to kick a spiritualist around. Fenar pulled a rolled up piece of paper from somewhere in his robe. One of the scribes ¡ª who had been faithfully jotting everything down so far ¡ª stood and rushed to Fenar, took the contract and delivered it to the councilwoman. There is an actual contract? Krissy asked, astonished but outwardly unperturbed. If they ask if it¡¯s your signature on it, say yes. Fenar replied calmly, as if forgery was his casual, Tuesday evening activity. The councilwoman skimmed through the paper and passed it on to the others to do the same.The older elf, Levoten Armat, was the only one who read it thoroughly, humming as he was doing that. No-one asked about the signatures. ¡®When is this meeting going to be over?¡¯ I asked. Chapter Sixty-eight Chapter Sixty-eight The meeting didn¡¯t end. It just changed course. They moved onto the next discussion: orks, and how to deal with them. I stopped paying much attention to it ¡ª my mind was elsewhere. Pushover? I couldn¡¯t believe that bastard Fenar would just go and call me a pushover in front of everyone. I wanted to be angry, I really did, but ¡­ he wasn¡¯t wrong, was he? Being honest with myself wasn¡¯t a comfortable thing, but I had to do it. The personal philosophy I had subscribed to all my life ¡ª as a human and as a spirit ¡ª was, in essence, the art of how to be a pushover. ¡°It is what it is, just deal with it¡± or ¡°Keep calm and carry on¡± sounded nice and all, but I had really let people walk all over me, hadn¡¯t I? For god¡¯s sake, my own death had been a result of taking over someone else¡¯s duties just so the guy could go for a break he wasn¡¯t meant to take. And then there was Wensah, then there was Fenar, and there was the very nature of my existence as a spirit, subservient to a host. Well, at least I liked Krissy, so I didn¡¯t mind being a little bit subservient to her. Were all spirits pushovers? Not being able to move around without a host didn¡¯t help a spirit¡¯s efforts to be more assertive, did it? At least until the host died and the spirit got to consume their souls. Even so, being a spirit was such an unfair existence. Was there anything I could do about it? Maybe there was. I hated to admit it, but I wanted to become like Wensah. A grand spirit. A god. I doubted anyone could push a god around. I¡¯d never been much of a ¡°personal growth¡± enthusiast, but maybe it was time to change that. Maybe it was time to ¡­ to ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. I had to think about this more later. For now, I turned my attention back to the meeting, in case something important was going on. *** The ¡°old man¡± Levoten Armat had stopped taking notes, almost as if he had lost interest in the whole issue of dangerous spirits and incompetent ranger generals. I supposed it was a sign that he had made up his mind one way or another, and there was no point in playing this weird blame-game anymore. I didn¡¯t quite see how portraying Fenar and the rangers as ¡°not up to the task¡± would win the guy¡¯s vote on some mysterious military budget issue, but that wasn¡¯t my problem. On the issue of orks, the defense sub-committee was in agreement with Fenirig Arte and Sivaren Rols ¡ª the only good ork was a dead ork, and everyone present in the meeting room was eager to see more of the good ones. The rangers gave a quick update on their progress in reducing the barbarian population of Solace, as well as casualty rates, both civilian and military. Ranger patrols were everywhere ¡ª almost a hundred teams from Third, Fifth and Seventh Rangers combined, and they were repelling or even exterminating the barbarians left and right, which meant the enemy was going to call it a day and leave soon. Getting reports from the navy was a much slower affair for obvious reasons. All everyone knew at this point was that only one of three pirate ships had been dealt with ¡ª courtesy of Krissy and yours truly. The other two had been spotted once or twice, but due to bad wind the galleys managed to outrun the normally faster sailing ships of the elven navy, and hide among smaller islands surrounding Solace. And that was that. Over a hundred and fifty civilians had been taken. A horrifying number. Men, women and children, who had nothing good to look forward to, save for the thirty-four souls we had got back from the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride. Pushover or not, I¡¯d done a good job there, and I was not going to regret anything. Fortunately, Orkuz Graal¡¯s adamance about fighting and dying in honorable duels with non-spiritualists ¡ª or mystics as the orks called them ¡ª gave the elves all the intel they needed. Wensah had proved to be a decent interrogator, and the ginormous ork captain had spilled everything: where they had come from, where the ships would take the captives, how long before they would be sold to other ork clans, and so on. It was all useful information, and it made the planning for a retaliation-slash-rescue mission all the faster and more efficient. I had a feeling Orkuz Graal¡¯s willingness to share was partly a result of his firm belief that mere ¡°ganks¡± wouldn¡¯t be able to cause any harm to the glorious ork clans. I also had a feeling that the elves were going to prove him wrong. Well, post-mortem prove him wrong ¡ª that deadly duel wasn¡¯t going to be cancelled, of that I was sure. And I was right. With reports and plans mostly discussed, the meeting was adjourned in about an hour, and we found ourselves marching to the parade-ground we¡¯d seen earlier. *** We arrived at the football pitch sized parade or training ground, and we found the captured orks standing in the middle of it, restrained with a variety of chains and ropes of all sorts and sizes. I guessed even if the elves had things like handcuffs, they¡¯d be hard pressed to find one in their inventories that would fit around the thick wrists of the creatures. A number of rangers stood guard around the beasts ¡ª archers and spearmen, all wearing the blueish-green robes of Fifth Rangers. Security was kind of tight. Krissy and Kiwa came to a halt at the edge of the place along with the committee members and all those who came to observe the ongoings. Orkuz Graal and his green gang were about to be granted a wish, and it seemed The Hellspawn and Sivaren Rols were going to do the wish-granting. ¡®What are they doing?¡¯ Krissy whispered worriedly as Fenar and Sivaren Rols walked onto the paved square, checking and fiddling with their sheathed swords and daggers. ¡®Oh, the masters of the rangers are always complaining about not getting proper exercise,¡¯ Komi whispered back to her. For some reason she had chosen to stand with us rather than the committee members. ¡®They ¡­ the two of them will fight the orks?¡¯ Krissy asked in disbelief. ¡®All of them? At once?¡¯ Komi just nodded, the expression on her face quite sinister, bloodthirsty even, quite unlike the friendly smiles we¡¯d seen earlier. She didn¡¯t seem worried at all. I couldn¡¯t decide if it was a wife¡¯s misplaced trust in her husband, or absolute confidence based on knowing something others didn¡¯t. It gave me the shivers. Could Fenar and the other master really handle fourteen orks? I was basically looking at the equivalent of two lanky noobs, walking up to The Rock times fourteen, thinking they could challenge the pros and live. Then again, they wouldn¡¯t be doing this if they didn¡¯t think they could beat them, would they? Elves were a lot faster than orks ¡­ but still, the scene did not fill me with confidence. ¡®You ain¡¯t got this, Fenar, I don¡¯t believe in you!¡¯ I yelled at the man. Some good old fashioned and probably misplaced heckling. Or petty revenge for calling me a pushover. Or maybe both. Unfortunately, my thread was still there, and he heard me. Fenar stopped, just a few meters from the green, barbarian mass, and turned around to glare at me. Well, at Krissy, since he couldn¡¯t see me. Call me Fenar one more time, you spirit of shit! I dare you! Damn fool! His thoughts thundered in my mind. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Krissy flinched, and I decided it was time I cut the connection to Fenar. ¡®Did something just happen?¡¯ Fenar¡¯s wife inquired, looking puzzled. Or intrigued, maybe. ¡®Uhm, yeah. Kevin called your husband Fenar,¡¯ she informed her. ¡®Oh, no,¡¯ the woman giggled, covering her mouth with her hand in a lady-like manner. ¡®Only I get to call him that and get away with it.¡¯ ¡®Everyone calls him that,¡¯ Krissy argued. ¡®Not to his face.¡¯ Komi grinned. Fenirig Arte and Sivaren Rols turned to the orks. Orkuz Graal was glaring down at them, grunting orkish words. I felt tempted to connect to him so I could understand more than just the word ¡°ganks¡±, but it wasn¡¯t all that important. The guards unshackled the fourteen marauders, then rushed to the edges of the square to join the rest of the spectators. It was that moment my Tentacle Horror Instinct chose to start talking to me again. Not as loudly as it had on the galley, but I could hear its nagging, telling me that the highest nutritional value belonged to ork souls, and I was a fool for not taking them. Well, that was the second time someone or something called me a fool today ¡ª first Fenar, now Mr Instinct. I had to sort this out, and I had to do it soon. The problem was that the last time I had tried, I¡¯d nearly killed myself, apparently. I was not at all confident that I could attempt it again and live. Which left me with the less than ideal choice of Wensah. I was fairly certain she¡¯d be able to help, but the thought of getting into more debts with that stupid goddess was enough to make my spiritual skin crawl. I was already under her thumb, and because of me, so was Krissy. We were her ¡­ errand boy and girl. We were in Solace because she wanted us to be here, and who knows when and where she¡¯d take us next without us having a say in the matter. From what I¡¯d heard from some people back on good old Earth, this was how working for a large corporation felt like ¡ª helpless against the malevolent powers of the HR department, our freedoms curtailed at the whims of a CEO, our weekends taken away in the holy name of overtime, and if you dared complain about it, you were out of a job. I couldn¡¯t believe I had managed to avoid all that in my old life, only to find myself an underpaid and underappreciated entry level employee of the Wensah-Corporation in this one. Well, in all fairness to the goddess, she wasn¡¯t into micromanagement, and deep down I knew she was my best chance to solve a number of problems, starting with Mr Instinct and ending with figuring out how to become a grand spirit myself. Until then, I just had to go along with her schemes and push Mr Instinct to the back as much as possible. The clanking, rattling sounds of metal brought me back to the here and now, as the orks raided a pile of weapons on the ground, arming themselves and eying the two elves with suspicion. As I stretched my tenties out a little to look around at everyone, I realized it wasn¡¯t just the orks eying the two power-rangers. Everyone was staring at them in silence, the audience anticipating something, but judging by the faces, even they weren¡¯t sure what. Krissy looked outright worried. She wasn¡¯t a ranger, but she fought against a couple of the beasts, and even with the best familiar at her disposal, it hadn¡¯t exactly been a walk in the park. ¡®Are you just letting important people like them fight to the death? As a matter of course?¡¯ Krissy whispered to Komi. ¡®Dear, masters of rangers don¡¯t become masters only because of their administration skills,¡¯ Komi said, waving a hand, dismissing Krissy¡¯s concerns. ¡®But ¡­ everyone looks nervous,¡¯ Krissy whispered again, looking at the rangers, the council members and the few civilians around the training ground. ¡®It¡¯s because most of them have never seen my Fenar or that oaf Sivro fight,¡¯ she said, her prideful smile bright as day. ¡®And by the way, I like the word ork. Strange how much it suits the creatures. How did you come up with it?¡¯ ¡®It was Kevin.¡¯ Krissy shrugged. ¡®He said it¡¯s the name for them where he comes from.¡¯ ¡®Hm. Interesting.¡¯ Komi nodded knowingly, or in confusion, I couldn¡¯t tell. ¡®Oh, they¡¯re starting.¡¯ *** No start signal had been given. Fenar and Sivaren Rols ¡ª or Sivro ¡ª simply drew their weapons, Orkuz Graal roared some orders at his orks, and the fight began. I could barely see what was happening, and I had most of my tentacles pointing at the fight. The training ground transformed into a slaughterhouse in an instant. The two elves moved like bloodthirsty Duracell bunnies on fast forward, putting even Kiwa to shame, whom I had seen fighting using Mana. Her movements I¡¯d been able to follow. These two? They were a blur. The first ork ¡ª not Orkuz Graal ¡ª fell within two seconds, his head rolling on the ground before he could do anything, his black blood splattering everywhere. If Fenar had not slowed down for a moment to shake the blood off his sword, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d have been able to tell which of them had done the deed. Sivro¡¯s first ork fell a split second later, three bleeding holes in his broad, green chest, concentrated on the right where the heart was. How in hell had the man managed to drive his sword through the beast three times without me seeing it properly? I had no answer. I knew elves were fast, but these two were something else entirely ¡ª I would have said they were spiritualist, but that would have required familiars. Which I would have seen. Or at least would have seen Mana flaring up around them. I came to the uncomfortable conclusion that the pair of them were just that good. The orks didn¡¯t seem unhappy though. They could also tell by the lack of Mana-flashes that their opponents ¡ª or more like executioners ¡ª weren¡¯t cheating. Orkuz Graal and his remaining eleven orks applied themselves to the task admirably, trying to surround the two elves, swinging their huge weapons, kicking, punching, groaning and grunting. The two elves worked together as if they had been training together for this for the last decade. They moved swiftly, picking their victims in order, making sure neither of them was caught off guard. Fenar got behind one of them so fast the poor sod couldn¡¯t even blink before the elf¡¯s dagger pierced his neck. Sivro jumped higher I¡¯d ever seen anyone jump, and on his way down he buried his sword into the head of another ork through the tippy-top of his skull. Black blood squirted from the green creature¡¯s head as Sivro pulled his blade out as fast as he had driven it in, and the man was already onto the next. A shiver ran through every single one of my tentacles as I watched. I¡¯d seen fights, I¡¯d participated in fights, but for god¡¯s sake, this was just ridiculous. Completely unreal. ¡®Krissy,¡¯ I whispered. ¡®What?¡¯ she whispered back, her lips quivering as she watched the deadly spectacle. ¡®Remind me never to piss off Master Fenirig Arte ever again!¡¯ ¡®Uh-huh.¡¯ She nodded, her eyes wide and glued to the scene. The two masters mowed down the orks, one after another, like two elf-shaped hurricanes going through a field of shoddily planted crops. The small crowd of elves watched in silent awe, astonishment and probably horror. Just like I did. In two minutes ¡ª a mere, measly, insignificantly short two minutes ¡ª Orkuz Graal was the only ork standing. Holding a machete-like thing in one hand and a mace in the other, he bellowed something at Fenar and Sivro, who were now standing on the corpse-littered ground some ten metres from the marauder-captain. The big ork screamed at them furiously but I got the feeling he was actually quite satisfied with all the glorious, honorable death around him, and couldn¡¯t wait to partake himself. He charged the elves, swinging his weapons, building up momentum, probably planning to barrel into them like a bowling ball. Under the circumstances, it was a good plan. And it didn¡¯t work. Of course it didn¡¯t work. Orkuz Graal took his last step as a living being and fell to the ground with a dagger in his neck and a sword in his heart. Mr Instinct started screaming, almost begging that I at least eat that last ork soul. I ignored it as much as I could ¡ª I didn¡¯t want to pour spirit-fuel on the smouldering fire the Tentacle Horror¡¯s hunger was. So, I just watched as the soul began to tremble, break and then disappear in a matter of ten seconds. *** Everyone was quiet, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, quite shaken ¡ª the rangers, the civilians, and three out of the five council members. Komi had a satisfied smile on her face, and the liaison looked unperturbed. The older man and the two youngsters who had been playing opposition during the meeting for whatever reason, looked pale. I guessed they weren¡¯t used to seeing this kind of violence ¡ª elves were nice and reasonable people after all. With a few exceptions. The rangers present looked ¡­ jealous of their masters¡¯ skills and physical abilities. I couldn¡¯t blame them ¡ª who wouldn¡¯t be? Kitala Iwani seemed jealous, too. She just stood there, gaping at the scene, at Fenar in particular. This did not escape Komi¡¯s notice. ¡®Krissintha!¡¯ she leaned closer, whispering quite loudly so Kiwa could hear it too. ¡®Please tell your bodyguard that the scarred man over there is my husband, and while I understand why she¡¯d be drooling over him, I don¡¯t appreciate it.¡¯ Before Krissy could say or do anything, Kiwa turned away and quickly took a few steps to the side, muttering something about not drooling. Komi stole a longing glance at her beloved Hellspawn-husband as he wiped just a little bit of sweat and black blood from his brow, then she said to Krissy, ¡®I¡¯d like to invite you for dinner tonight. To discuss a few things concerning your patron god.¡¯ She looked over at Kiwa. ¡®You can bring your bodyguard, if she promises to behave.¡¯ Chapter Sixty-nine Chapter Sixty-nine ¡®I don¡¯t want to go for this dinner, boss,¡¯ Kitala Iwani complained, her normally pale, white face reddening rapidly. ¡®Well, you¡¯re my bodyguard, apparently, and you¡¯re coming,¡¯ Krissy stated in a matter of fact tone. ¡®Do you realise who that man is? I¡¯ve just realised who that man is,¡¯ Kiwa whispered. It was uncharacteristic of her to be this rattled. Apart from our first meeting when she¡¯d been completely out of her mind over temporarily losing Tilry, she had always been calm and pragmatic. Now she was fidgeting in her chair, while Krissy was scowling at her, sitting on her bed. Well, it was still early afternoon, so she had some time to convince her newly appointed bodyguard to attend the dinner. Although, the way Kiwa said she¡¯d just realized who Fenar was, was weird. We knew who Fenar was: Master of Third Rangers, stalwart defender of the realm and full time rude elf. Wasn¡¯t he? ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ Krissy inquired. ¡®He is Fenirig Arte. The Hellspawn himself,¡¯ Kiwa stated, looking around as if searching for eavesdroppers. ¡®Yes, that¡¯s not new,¡¯ Krissy said, looking as baffled by her answer as I was. ¡®No, you don¡¯t understand,¡¯ she nearly screeched. ¡®It¡¯s not an uncommon name, plenty of families have the name Fenirig. Here and in Fayr-Sitan.¡¯ That was probably true. Fenirig Rina ¡ª or Ferin ¡ª from the galley was one example of that, and I was sure there were many others. ¡®So?¡¯ ¡®But this one is ¡°the¡± Fenirig Arte,¡¯ Kiwa whispered conspiratorially. ¡®The Hellspawn who killed an evil god. That¡¯s why they called him The Hellspawn. He¡¯s a legend.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m sorry, what?¡¯ Krissy tried to stand up, forgetting her injured ankle, and fell back onto the bed, hissing. ¡®I haven¡¯t realised. He looks nothing like his statue in Fayral. I thought people called him Hellspawn because ¡­ I don¡¯t know. To mess with him?¡¯ she wailed. ¡®But the way the masters fought, especially him. No-one can fight like that. Except the Hellspawn and those who were there.¡¯ I couldn¡¯t decide whether Kiwa was genuinely distressed or she was just fangirling, but this was getting interesting. Our good old Fenar had killed a god? An evil god no less? I didn¡¯t know Wensah had had a sister. Wait! On second thought, this wasn¡¯t getting interesting. More like terrifying. Fenar had killed a god? How? I knew he used to be a spiritualist, and after the insane display we¡¯d just seen, I couldn¡¯t even imagine what he¡¯d be able to do if he had Mana available to him. Should I be worried about Fenar being able to kill me, like I was worried about gods and other spirits? No, that couldn¡¯t be. Kiwa must have been mistaken. Still ¡­ ¡®Krissy, remind me to never ever never piss the guy off ever again!¡¯ I blurted the words out. ¡®Same,¡¯ Tilry agreed. Kiwa looked up at the ceiling where she probably guessed Tilry would be ¡ª she wasn¡¯t wrong, the familiar was hovering above her. ¡®Same? What do you mean?¡¯ she asked the spirit. It seemed they still weren¡¯t talking on a daily basis ¡ª likely due to Tilry¡¯s reluctance to break the unwritten rules of familiarhood ¡ª but the woman wasn¡¯t as surprised to hear the spirit¡¯s voice as she had been before, so I guessed they had been making some progress. ¡®Kevin expressed it would be wise not to anger Master Fenirig Arte in any way.¡¯ Tilry paraphrased my words nicely. ¡®Anger him? I say we stay clear of him altogether,¡¯ Kiwa mumbled. ¡®Well, I say I¡¯m going to have a nap, and then we¡¯ll all go for dinner,¡¯ Krissy interjected, her tone making it clear she wasn¡¯t going to take no for an answer. There was a lesson to be learned there for the average pushover. Krissy looked Kiwa up and down. ¡®Do you have a dress?¡¯ ¡®No.¡¯ Kiwa shook her head, looking down on her simple and practical fighting gear she had been wearing ever since I¡¯d known her. ¡®Neither do I. Wake me up at least two hours before sunset,¡¯ Krissy instructed the elf. We¡¯ll go shopping.¡¯ Kiwa groaned as if she was facing torture, but she nodded. Neither Tilry nor I had anything to add to this conversation, and I watched quietly as Kiwa left the room, and Krissy laid down on her bed. *** Becoming a spirit and living in this world ¡ª a world I was slowly learning more about ¡ª had changed me. It had changed me a lot, and was continuously changing me. I no longer missed Earth as much as I had before. I had killed people and spirits, which had been a horrifying prospect three years ago, but I couldn¡¯t be truly bothered about it now. I had accepted the nature of my existence as a soul-hungry discount-cthulhu who relied on a host to move around. However, if there was one thing that had not changed at all, and would probably not change regardless of how many lifetimes I¡¯d spend here, it was my absolute dislike for clothes-shopping. Especially when women were involved. The fact that said shopping was taking place in the elven city of Sek Artem, located in a world other than mine, didn¡¯t change that. The Fifth Ranger¡¯s compound was less than half a mile from the city¡¯s edge, and even with Krissy limping along with a crutch, it didn¡¯t take too long to reach the centre of town. Kiwa was a patient bodyguard and she made sure she kept pace with her. The city was nice enough; less trees than in Gal Themar, more open spaces and wider streets, similarly constructed and ornamented buildings, and a main square that was so large a crowd of thousands could gather there it they cleared it of statues and market-stalls. Being late afternoon, the place was busy. Just like in Gal Themar, the main square and the surrounding streets were where all the shops, markets, restaurants and of course offices were concentrated. People were out in force. Hundreds upon hundreds of elves ¡ª men, women and even some children ¡ª buying and selling, eating out, chatting or arguing, playing, as if there wasn¡¯t an ork crisis going on nearby. Well, I supposed bigger towns were safe from the relatively small raiding parties, unlike those living in farmsteads, fishing villages and such. The people of Sek Artem didn¡¯t have a thing to worry about, and it showed. I wasn¡¯t even sure if they were aware of the threat or not. Well, it didn¡¯t matter ¡ª on a little street just off the square, Krissy and Kiwa found the perfect place to fill up their wardrobes and to make me a bored and unhappy Tentacle Horror. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. How much money do we have? Krissy asked me as we entered the shop ¡®We have ¡­ the two-hundred Kyns from Third Rangers, and we have the four-hundred Deni gave us.¡¯ I reported our financial situation after taking a quick peek into Jack¡¯s Room where I had stored all our stuff, including our money. ¡®Do you have money?¡¯ Krissy then asked Kiwa. She nodded and tapped the money-pouch next to her sheathed dagger on her belt, the coins in it jingling nicely. The shop was more like a tailor¡¯s workshop. Rolls of fabric occupied a number of shelves along the walls, wooden mannequins wore partially completed dresses for women as well as trousers and coats for men, and I even saw a few, small outfits for children. The three women who were hunching over their workbenches, measuring or cutting fabric, looked up as we entered. They almost dismissed us and went back to their work, but then their eyes became fixed on Krissy. The oldest of them ¡ª although it was a difficult judgment to make ¡ª waved the other two back to their work and came up to greet us. ¡®Good afternoon,¡¯ she said in perfect Treini, looking Krissy up and down and ignoring Kiwa for the moment. ¡®Not every day I see a human wearing Fifth Ranger¡¯s garb.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m a guest at the ranger¡¯s compound, and ¡­ they lent me the clothes,¡¯ Krissy half lied. In Elvish. ¡®Until I get a replacement for my dress, that is.¡¯ The woman grinned and almost patted Krissy on the shoulder, but looked at the cast on her left arm and the crutch in her right, and decided not to. I could see the gears turning in her head as she put the picture ¡ª or a picture ¡ª together. ¡®I see. I didn¡¯t know those cursed greens tried to take some humans, too,¡¯ she said in Elvish this time, a sad look of sympathy replacing the smile on her face. ¡®I¡¯m so sorry you had to go through that.¡¯ ¡®Oh, I¡¯m ¡­ fine,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®But I need a new dress. And my friend needs one, too.¡¯ The shopkeep finally turned her attention to Kiwa. ¡®You¡¯re a pretty one,¡¯ she commented, looking her up and down just as she¡¯d done with Krissy. Her eyes stopped at the dagger on her belt. ¡®I¡¯m her bodyguard,¡¯ Kiwa stated coldly, almost glaring at the woman. I wasn¡¯t a hundred percent sure, but maybe, just maybe, Kiwa disliked clothes-shopping, too. And it seemed she had accepted her new, unofficial job-title as well. What a day. ¡®Well, you are in the right place, so let¡¯s get you dressed as nicely as a girl for her first dance,¡¯ the woman said, almost singing really, and spun around to show us in so we could inspect the goods. It was a boring affair for a spirit to watch two women trying to decide what colour, what fabric or what style should their new dresses have. Actually, it was just one woman. Kiwa had quickly let the shopkeep know she was fine with anything. Krissy, on the other hand, seemed to have dredged up her inner noblewoman ¡ª because despite everything she was a noblewoman ¡ª and took her time inspecting the dresses the shopkeep claimed would fit her right away or with some minor alterations. Luckily there weren¡¯t too many of them. And that¡¯s when I remembered something important, something crucial to our continued survival in fact. ¡®Krissy! Deni¡¯s dress! We need to have it fixed if we want to live!¡¯ Krissy paled and her breathing fastened as if she had found herself in imminent danger. I asked Tilry to tell Kiwa about the dress we wanted fixed, and I took it out from Jack¡¯s Room, behind Krissy¡¯s back so no-one could see it except Kiwa. The elf grabbed the abused garment, and pretended she had always had it in her hands. When the shopkeeper lady came back with the fourth dress to show off, I didn¡¯t think she was fooled, but she didn¡¯t say anything either ¡ª she took it, examined it, then declared that it was made of a cheap and common fabric she happened to have in stock, and for the measly price of ninety Kyns it would be ready in two days. We of course agreed to the deal. In the end, Krissy chose the outfits both for herself and for Kiwa. She then decided it would be a waste of time to go back to the ranger¡¯s barrack, and after paying three-hundred Kyns for the dresses, the lady of the shop let them use a back-room to change into their new dresses. I had to admit, Krissy had chosen well. Even with the cast on her arm and leg, she looked really good in her new, pale-yellow dress. And with Kiwa standing next to her in her light purple dress, they looked like they had just stepped out of a Pride and Prejudice movie adaptation. It was a sight for sore eyes, if there ever was one. With that nonsense done, and with plenty of money left in the coffers, it was time for my kind of shopping. Carrying their old clothes in a canvas bag ¡ª which I took into Jack¡¯s Room as soon as we left the shop ¡ª Krissy and Kiwa agreed to a detour. I stretched out my tentacles in all directions as they walked back to the main square, looking for the shops and market-stalls I wanted to check. It didn¡¯t take long to find them. One stall sold flour, so I made Krissy buy a small sack of it that was ¡­ hm ¡­ maybe ten kilograms. It cost only five Kyns. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a good price or not, but we paid, and went on to another stall that sold eggs. The eggs here were slightly larger than chicken eggs, and they had brown, mottled shells. I didn¡¯t know what bird they had come from, but eggs were eggs, and we bought thirty of them for ten Kyns. A little bit of walking around later we got a jar of some sort of vegetable oil the stall-keeper said was good for cooking, and all that was left to find was some kitchenware. Krissy was becoming a little impatient, complaining that we might be late for dinner. My counter was that the restaurant Mrs Hellspawn had specified was somewhere around the square, and the sun was still up, so we had time. I wasn¡¯t going to give up on a frying pan and mixing bowl ¡ª the mere thought of them filled me with the kind of nostalgia that had the potential to turn into pleasant reminiscing or devastating depression. I went with the pleasant reminiscing. To find a shop that sold what I needed took some time, but when one of my tentacles brushed through the walls of a shop we were going to pass by, letting me see the contents, I stopped Krissy. ¡®This is it!¡¯ I cried out with joy. ¡®This is what?¡¯ she demanded, saying the words out loud. ¡®The shop I need,¡¯ I informed her. She grumbled something I didn¡¯t quite catch, but she limped up the three stairs leading to the door, and we went inside. Now this was a shop. Pots, pans, cauldrons, knives, cutlery, plates, bowls, chopping boards, cups, mugs, jugs, bottles, entire tea-sets ¡­ this was where I had to be. No. This was where I was fated to be. Yes. Krissy and Kiwa pretended to look around, just to keep the sour-looking man ¡ª presumably the owner, or maybe an employee ¡ª happy, while I did the actual looking around, flinging my tentacles around to see every shelf, every box, and even through the walls into the storage rooms, just to check if they had a secret stash of treasure they had not put on display on the shop floor. The only thing they didn¡¯t have was a green mug with white zig-zag lines. Or was it a white mug with green lines? Damn. I was sure that mug had gone down with the Graal¡¯s Enourmous Pride, and in the absence of a replacement, I needed to come up with a plausible lie to tell Toven if he ever questioned me about his favourite, missing mug. That reminded me that I didn¡¯t have Krissy¡¯s mask in Jack¡¯s Room, and I hadn¡¯t seen it in her room either. It was probably keeping Toven¡¯s mug company in the dark depths of the sea, so that was another thing I needed to find a replacement for. I knew Krissy could and would do without a mask, but I liked that mask. Nonetheless, this wasn¡¯t the shop for masks and such, so I focused on the kitchenware. Half an hour and seventy-four Kyns later, Jack¡¯s Room had the pleasure to host a metal frying pan, a pot I could more or less call a sauce pan, a large, six-pronged, metal fork that would be a good substitute for a whisk, a couple of wooden, spatula-like implements, two, wooden mixing bowls and a variety of kitchen knives. Despite Krissy¡¯s vehement disagreement, this was what I called a successful shopping trip. ¡®Why do you need all this ¡­ junk?¡¯ she asked, shaking her head as we left the shop behind us. ¡®Junk? You take that back, Missy! These are tools of the trade,¡¯ I growled at her. Not angrily, I wasn¡¯t angry at all, but there were certain things she wasn¡¯t supposed to say, and I needed to let her know that. ¡®Fine. Tools of the trade. But ¡­ why? What trade?¡¯ ¡®Listen, Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain,¡¯ I said to her, slowly, so she would understand the gravity of this discussion. ¡®Uhm ¡­ yes?¡¯ ¡®You said I promised you pancakes. Well, I am a spirit of my word, and I. Shall. Deliver.¡¯ Chapter Seventy Chapter Seventy The sun was still up when we arrived at the restaurant. The place was similar to the teahouse we¡¯d once visited in Gal-Themar ¡ª not particularly fancy, but not at all shoddy either. It was pleasant, and I appreciated that whoever owned the place had refrained from using too much ornamentation of the interior. Restaurants really didn¡¯t need the kind of gaudy opulence elves liked. A tall man ¡ª wearing an outfit that almost passed for a suit ¡ª greeted us as we entered and immediately asked us to follow him to a private dining room away from the main restaurant area. I supposed the guy had been told to expect us, and since Krissy was probably the first human in a long time ¡ª or just the first ¡ª to visit the establishment, I doubted it was difficult to identify us. The private room opened from a short corridor at the back, just as the kitchen did. I stuck a tentacle through the opposite wall as we entered the dining room, and I had the pleasure of simultaneously observe the busy elven chefs as well as the people waiting for us at the dining table. I wished I had a sense of taste or smell ¡ª I really wanted to have at least a sniff of all the raw and ready foodstuffs in the kitchen. It was somewhat frustrating not to be able to do that, and I decided to shift my attention to our dinner companions for the night. While the black-clad elven cooks practiced their craft in the kitchen ¡ª marinating slices of meat and ¡­ fresh fish, chopping up vegetables, baking bread and such ¡ª three people rose from their seats to greet us in the dining room: Fenirig Arte, Korolan Mirei, and their granddaughter, Hiraken Sala. This was the first time I¡¯d seen Fenar wearing something other than ranger gear. He looked ¡­ civilized. I supposed the saying ¡°clothes make the man¡± did apply to elves as well. Still, Krissy instinctively snapped to attention like a good soldier, despite leaning on her crutch for support. Kiwa simply stiffened and froze, either scared or awestruck by the sight of our very own, pointy-eared Chuck Norris. Honestly, after seeing him in action, I did not blame Kitala Iwani at all. Then it occurred to me. If he was that good, why weren¡¯t he and the other masters of rangers participating in the fight against the ork invaders? He could make short work of them, as we¡¯d seen, so ¡­ oh. Well, in the end even Elf-Chuck was just one man, and I doubted he could be everywhere at once. At best he could make one ranger team¡¯s life easier, the rest would still need to search and destroy the marauder teams the old fashioned way. It was probably more efficient for the masters to use their organization skills in this battle rather than their martial skills. Regardless, I was still impressed by the man¡¯s abilities ¡ª who would have thought an elf could reach this level of badassery without using Mana. It was ¡­ frightening. I wondered if I¡¯d be able ¡ª or if I should even try ¡ª to introduce a series of ¡°facts¡± about him to the elven population. Something like ¡°When orks go to sleep, they check their closets for Fenirig Arte.¡±. Hm. I looked him up and down ¡ª the man still had the small chunk missing from his soul. I could work with that. ¡°Fenirig Arte once gave a small chunk of his soul to a familiar. That spirit became the first god.¡± Yep, that sounded about right. Now I just needed to find out if he could do roundhouse kicks. ¡®At ease, trainee!¡¯ Fenar barked the order as if we were on the training ground. Krissy relaxed, and so did Kiwa. Komi turned to glare at her husband and said, ¡®Come now, darling, no need to be so rangery.¡¯ Fenar glanced at his wife, sighed, then gestured everyone to take a seat. Hisa was grinning at Krissy. ¡®How are you, Misery? Or should I call you ¡­ Krissintha? Is Kevin with you?¡¯ she asked as everyone sat down. ¡®I¡¯m here. Say hello to her for me, please!¡¯ I said excitedly. Finally, someone was happy to see me. Well, not to ¡°see¡± me, but to know I was here. ¡®He¡¯s here. He says hello,¡¯ Krissy conveyed my greeting, then asked, ¡®Where are the others? Are they alright?¡¯ ¡®Arde took Timo to look around town. They¡¯ve never been to Sek Artem,¡¯ she said. ¡®It¡¯s a nice town,¡¯ Komi commented. ¡®Good soil around here and so close to the sea as well. I haven¡¯t visited for years. I think you will like the fish dishes.¡¯ As if on cue, the same man who¡¯d escorted us here entered the room, all smiles, ready to take our orders for food and drink. Krissy and Kiwa left it up to the councilwoman to order for them. So did Fenar. As a result, the evening¡¯s culinary repertoire was decided by Korolan Mirei and Hisa. The waiter rushed away, and I followed him with a tentacle and observed as he relayed our orders to the kitchen staff, then went on his way to check on the diners in the main restaurant area. While we waited for our food, Hisa and Krissy exchanged compliments about the dresses they were wearing. Komi complemented Kiwa¡¯s purple dress, saying she had good taste, to which Kiwa obliviously revealed that it had been Krissy¡¯s choice. Fenar sat through the small talk as quietly as I did, and he looked relieved when our food finally arrived. With the exception of Fenar ¡ª who had some kind of meaty stew in front of him ¡ª everyone received grilled fish with a side of vegetables, bread, and a thick, black sauce. The presentation of the dishes was nice but not overly pretentious, and the portions were a good size. Back in the day I had eaten at a few restaurants boasting a couple of Michelin Stars, but in all honesty, this type of place had always been more to my liking. And curse be upon Wensah who had turned me into a spirit, depriving me of the ability to enjoy an evening of good food. Mr Instinct immediately pointed out that there was plenty of food around, and I had to take a few moments to exert my will and silence the bugger. Other than that, the evening so far was ¡­ pleasant. ¡®Here.¡¯ Fenar took out a piece of folded paper from a pocket on his jacket and pushed it over to Krissy. Krissy wiped her hand and mouth with a napkin and took the paper, unfolded it, and looked over the contents. It was the contract she had supposedly signed with Fenirig Arte, and lo and behold, her signature was there. She nodded approvingly. ¡®Close enough,¡¯ she said, then scowled. ¡®It says here that the training I¡¯m receiving is in exchange for my participation in the Counter Evil Spirit Exercise, and any other assistance I provide to Third Rangers will be compensated at the current pay rate of a scout-master first rank.¡¯ The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡®Correct.¡¯ Fenar nodded, and pulled a pouch of jingling money from somewhere, and pushed it over to us. ¡®Eight-hundred Kyns, rounded up, based on the yearly stipend of a scout-master and on the number of days you actively participated in hunting down the evil spirit back then, and the damned barbarians now.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s ¡­ generous. Thank you,¡¯ Krissy said, lifting up the contract and the pouch. I touched them with a tentacle, and both the paper and the money vanished, finding their way into Jack¡¯s Room. ¡®See? I told you Kevin can do that!¡¯ Hisa exclaimed, patting her grandmother on the shoulder. ¡®Interesting.¡¯ Councilwoman Komi nodded. ¡®So ¡­ is this training exercise going to happen? With all that¡¯s going on?¡¯ Krissy inquired. ''Soon,¡¯ Fenar said, nodding. ¡®We¡¯re already planning an expedition to get our people back and to give the damned orks a bloody nose. We moved up the schedule for the exercise. We wanted to do it near Gal-Themar, but we¡¯ll do it here instead, before our trip to the barbarian lands.¡¯ ¡®Three days from now,¡¯ Komi said, looking at her husband. ¡®Isn¡¯t it a bit too soon? We don¡¯t even know if this attack will be over by then. Maybe a little rest for the men?¡¯ ¡®It will be over by tomorrow, councilwoman,¡¯ Fenar said to his wife, his tone as official as he could manage. ¡®Resting is for marines and militias. Rangers are always ready.¡¯ ¡®And that¡¯s why I elected to be on the council, my dear.¡¯ Komi grinned at her husband. ¡®Huh!¡¯ Fenar laughed. I was not sure whether it was in good humour or something else. ¡®You¡¯re just more comfortable giving orders sitting in a chair. Don¡¯t you miss trekking through mud and storm and fight idiots who think they can swing a sword?¡¯ ¡®Not particularly, no,¡¯ she said with a sweet voice, the smile on her face rather sinister. ¡®But I¡¯m very comfortable being able to order you around, Master Fenirig Arte of Third Rangers.¡¯ ¡®Oh my god! This is too much. Can you try and change the topic?¡¯ I begged Krissy to put a stop to this weird power-flirting. The image I had of Master Fenar and of Councilwoman Komi would never be the same again. Krissy seemed to be just as uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, and didn¡¯t hesitate to fulfil my request, much to the relief of a red-faced Hisa, who was busy looking all around the room except her grandparents. ¡®Uhm, so, about the hearing,¡¯ Krissy began, looking at the councilwoman. ¡®What was it about? We thought we¡¯d be the targets of all accusations, but it was Master Fenirig Arte, wasn¡¯t it?¡¯ Fenar and Komi stopped their little back and forth. ¡®That witch and her cohorts on the committee are hell-bent on being stupid, trying to do stupid things for fucking stupid reasons,¡¯ Fenar spat the words, his mood taking a sudden one-eighty from almost personable to not so personable. Not to mention not very informative. Komi immediately hushed the man and took over. ¡®Krisoret Itani and many of the younger council members have a different vision for our ¡­ military, as they call it,¡¯ she explained. ¡®Impressionable, brainless children,¡¯ Fenar scowled. ¡®They take a few trips to the mainland and suddenly they think they know how to organize armies.¡¯ ¡®Armies?¡¯ Krissy asked, raising her eyebrows, looking at the two of them. ¡®Armies.¡¯ Komi nodded. ¡®I imagine by now you are aware that our main defensive forces are the rangers and the navy. And that works well for Solace. But Krisoret Itani and her friends proposed to the Council that we establish a standing army in the fashion the nations of the Mainlands do it.¡¯ ¡®Is that a bad idea?¡¯ Krissy asked innocently, and that was enough to bring Fenar back into the conversation. ¡®Tell me, trainee, what do rangers do?¡¯ he put the question to Krissy, glaring at her with the intensity we were used to. ¡®Rangers are the first, last and best line of defense against those wanting to harm Solace and her people,¡¯ Krissy recited the mantra we¡¯d heard more times I ever wanted to. ¡®Correct. How do rangers do that?¡¯ he demanded, scowling like there was no tomorrow. ¡®Ranger patrols cover every inch of Solace. If something happens, they¡¯ll know it and they¡¯ll deal with it immediately, bringing in more teams if necessary and for as long as necessary.¡¯ Krissy offered the answer. Fenar nodded in approval, but he wasn¡¯t done. ¡®You¡¯re from the Mainlands. Are you familiar with how armies operate there?¡¯ ¡®Yes. My father had one,¡¯ she said. ¡®Tell me: how would a large army react to the situation we¡¯re in?¡¯ ¡®Well,¡¯ Krissy started to say, then stopped to actually think about it for a moment. I saw where this was going: this was a quantity versus quality issue, wasn¡¯t it? It was about what would suit Solace more: large armies and formation warfare, or highly mobile units, able to act quickly and independently without oversight from the brass. Sure, an army of elves ¡ª even if half as well trained as rangers ¡ª would be a devastating force. In a pitched battle or a siege. But it would be slow to mobilise, slow to move, would require serious logistical support and this was just the top three on the list of issues. An army wouldn¡¯t have been able to react to an ork invasion this quickly and effectively, and if they came across an evil spirit, the spirit would simply rejoice at the sudden appearance of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Krissy had come to the same conclusion and said the same thing, much to Fenar¡¯s delight. When Krissy finished with her analysis of ¡°Army vs Rangers¡±, the man turned to his wife and said, ¡®I told you she¡¯d make a good ranger. If she wasn¡¯t human, she could have become my aide in fifty or so years. She has the brain, the spine, and the stubbornness. She has Krisoret Itani and her ilk beat in every respect.¡¯ Krissy¡¯s face started to burn, turning a deep red. I could almost feel as her heartbeat doubled or tripled. This was the highest praise Fenar had ever given her. Going so far as the claim she was better than some of the elves ¡ª granted, it was elves Fenar apparently loathed ¡ª seemed to have a profound effect on Krissy. Well, as far as I was concerned, there was no-one who deserved the foul-mouthed ranger-general¡¯s praise more. ¡®Yes, I heard you the first time, dear,¡¯ Komi said to Fenar, then turned to Krissy. ¡®After reading the reports of what you¡¯ve done, no-one would dare put you on some sort of trial. The hearing was something Krisoret Itani arranged, mostly to convince poor old Levoten Armat to vote in favour of establishing an army. Despite how he looks, the man is over five-hundred years old. One of the oldest among us. He has a lot of influence.¡¯ ¡®Did Krisoret Itani manage to convince him?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®I don¡¯t think so,¡¯ Komi replied. ¡®Rumour is he¡¯s more interested in enlarging the navy and leaving the rangers as they are. It¡¯s difficult to know what he¡¯s thinking, even more difficult to get anything out of him before a vote. I wish he¡¯d talk more.¡¯ The waiter returned to our private dining room. He walked around and lit the lanterns on the walls ¡ª the sun was down now, and soon only darkness would be coming through the single window of the room. He collected our plates, rushed away, then returned with a tray with teacups, jars of hot water and a pot of tea-leaves. I leaped at the opportunity ¡ª I brought out a box of Earl Grey from Jack¡¯s Room and put it on the table. ¡®Oh, the grey-tea!¡¯ Hisa whispered excitedly, recognizing the box, and reached out to open it. ¡®Grey tea?¡¯ Fenar looked at the tea-bags inside with suspicion, then at Krissy. ¡®Trainee! Did you at any point present this tea to the old git Sivaren Tal, pretending it was a gift from me?¡¯ ¡®Uh, yes, sir!¡¯ Krissy replied, glancing towards the door, then at the window ¡ª two possible escape routes to get out of the way of Fenar¡¯s wrath. ¡®Hm. He said it was on par with Darak¡¯s Special Blend,¡¯ the man said and picked a tea-bag from the box. ¡®He even said thank you to me for the first time in ¡­ well, ever.¡¯ Hisa poured hot water for everyone and showed them how to use the tea-bags. Kiwa, who had been silent the whole time, finally let out a sigh as she took a sip of her tea. Fenar and Komi were a little more cautious than those of us who had already experienced the wonders of a good cup of Earl Grey, but they nodded approvingly as they tasted it. Krissy explained how we ended up manufacturing and selling the tea, and Komi promised she would recommend it to her friends ¡ª friends who were the cream of elven society, no doubt. That was good news for our joint business venture ¡ª I was sure Deni and Toven, as well as Quenta and Tommi would welcome the news. ¡®One more thing I¡¯d like to discuss with you, Krissintha,¡¯ Komi said as she finished ¡ª and thoroughly enjoyed ¡ª her tea. ¡®As I¡¯ve said before, I would like to meet with your patron god.¡¯ Chapter Seventy-one Chapter Seventy-one I knew this was coming ¡ª despite all the pleasant chit-chat over dinner I had no doubt this was the main reason Councilwoman Korolan Mirei had invited us for dinner. I neither knew nor cared what Fenar¡¯s wife wanted from Wensah, and normally I would have flat out refused to accommodate her. Sure, she seemed to be an influential figure in Solace¡¯s political scene, but I didn¡¯t owe her anything, did I? Neither did Krissy. But! I had a problem of my own that required the annoying godling¡¯s expertise. She never seemed happy having to come here to check on me, maybe because on most occasions it had been because of something stupid I¡¯d done. There was a huge chance Wensah would be absolutely livid if I tried to lure her here by cutting the supply of Essence. And that¡¯s where the councilwoman fit into the picture ¡ª shifting blame was an art, and I was about to become an artist. ¡®Okay, I am going to try,¡¯ I said to Krissy, who in turn let Komi know that we had agreed to her request, and were going to proceed right here and now. *** Luckily, over the past three years I¡¯d got the hang of sensing all the spiritual materials, both in their basic forms and in their composite forms. It wasn¡¯t quick or easy to find and feel Wensah¡¯s thread. I could just about see threads of my own making, but she had made sure hers was invisible to me. But I focused on its presence until I could not so much see it but know where it was. When I¡¯d first seen the thread, before she had made it invisible, it looked like a strand of glittery spider-silk, running from me to Wensah¡¯s incarnation. The second time I¡¯d seen it, shortly after the ¡°Kraken-incident¡±, it had looked the same, but I had had a better feel for it, and sort of understood what it was made of and how it worked. I shut my vision down and I could almost see it ¡ª a microscopic pipeline which Wensah used both to find me wherever I was, and to siphon Essence away from me. The thread came through the little Black Essence portal inside me, ran along my insides, exited my body and stuck out into the air like some antenna, and the point which seemed to be the end of it wasn¡¯t the end of it. I shifted a tentacle to hover right next to it, pointing at it, and I observed. Black Essence. The thread was going through an even tinier portal than mine. And that was how my hard-earned Essence was finding its way to the god of exploitation. With ten tentacles at my disposal ¡ª with the exception of the one I was using to connect to Krissy ¡ª I collected about 15 EP per minute. These days Wensah was taking 20 or so EP from me every six or seven minutes. Now that I thought about this, she was getting over 4000 EP from me every single day. I couldn¡¯t even imagine what level she had to be to have a large enough Essence Pool to store all that. And that was just from me. I didn¡¯t know how many other familiars she had outsourced, but she could be getting as much as a hundred-thousand EP a day for all I knew. That was an insane amount of Essence, and Wensah had never stopped taking it from me, not once. When my comparably microscopic Essence pool was full at 72 EP, my tentacles either slowed or stopped collecting the stuff. Which meant that Wensah¡¯s pool was either bottomless, or she was constantly using obscene amounts of the stuff. And there it was. I felt it. A pulse. A batch of Essence running through the pipeline, exiting the portal, exiting my body and vanishing into the other portal, going to wherever Wensah was. Unfortunately, just staring at the thing wasn¡¯t going to produce the desired result ¡ª I had to stop the flow of Essence. I guessed the next batch would be sucked out of me in about five or six minutes, so it was time to figure out how to blow up the rails. But ¡­ maybe I didn¡¯t have to blow it up. I wondered if I could block it somehow, or tie the thread in a knot or something I navigated the tip of a second tentacle to the ephemeral string, and I touched it. The thin wire was running straight ¡ª I had expected it to feel taut like a guitar string. Instead, it was slack, and it wiggled as I kept poking at it. Hm. Well, since I didn¡¯t have a better idea, I decided to try to tie it off. It turned out to be a lot easier than I had thought it would be. Even without fingers. I pulled on the thread, looped it around itself, then I pulled again, and it was tied as tightly as the shoelaces of a kindergartener with an overzealous mother. That ought to do it. ¡®Alright, I¡¯ve done what I could. Now we wait,¡¯ I announced, and Krissy conveyed it to the occupants of the room, then urged everyone to help themselves to more Earl Grey. *** The first batch of Essence came through the portal some seven minutes after I had tied the knot. I wasn¡¯t sure if the substance was running along the wire or through it as if it was a pipe, but when it reached the knot, the Essence got stuck and didn¡¯t go further. Well, I was surprised as hell ¡ª I had not expected it to work. I mean, when it came to all these spiritual materials and the nonsensical way they worked, who would have thought something as simple as a knot would do the trick. Just ¡­ wow. But success was success, wasn¡¯t it? Just a matter of time now before Wensah came looking and cursing, demanding an explanation why tax collection had stopped. On second thought, Wensah may have been busy. The second batch of 20 EP got stuck right where the first had. Then, a third blob of Essence. Nearly twenty minutes later, Councilwoman Komi was scowling, looking like she was about to voice her concern or disappointment about my failure to summon a goddess. As if summoning a goddess was an everyday thing kids did in their spare time. I was preparing excuses for Krissy to convey when I felt the Essence in the air move. ¡®Oh-oh. Here she ¡­¡¯ I couldn¡¯t finish the sentence, and there was just enough time for Krissy to flick her eyes up as she heard my voice. ¡®You insufferable, stupid moron!¡¯ Wensah began her tirade even before her body fully materialized right between Krissy and Kiwa¡¯s chairs. And for good measure, she punched me. She literally punched my spherical body with her fist. It hurt. ¡®I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m putting up with you. Out of the millions of souls I could have picked, how did I end up with the one without a brain?¡¯ She pulled her arm back for another punch, her pretty face scrunched into a grimace of the purest fury I¡¯d seen so far. That did not bode well. It was time to start the blame-game. ¡®Hey! Stop! It wasn¡¯t my fault. They asked me to do it. Look! We have an audience,¡¯ I yelled, pointing a tentacle at Komi and Fenar. ¡®You useless, idiotic ¡­¡¯ she screamed at me, but turned her head to look. She stopped mid-punch. Everyone in the room was staring at her with open mouths, which I supposed was a normal reaction when a god appeared in your midst and was swearing at someone you couldn¡¯t see. However, when Wensah saw who our audience was, she stared at them open mouthed just like everyone else was staring at her. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡®Oh shit,¡¯ the goddess swore. Komi pulled herself together first. She stood up from her chair, a weird smile appearing on her face. She looked Wensah in the eyes and said, ¡®It¡¯s been a long time, hasn¡¯t it, Kina?¡¯ *** What is going on? Krissy asked, just as baffled as I was. Or Kiwa and Hisa was. Wensah had pulled a free chair and sat down at the table, her arms folded in front of her chest, looking at Komi without saying a word. Komi was more or less doing the same, quietly observing the goddess, but she still had that weird half-smile on her face, almost a smirk. ¡®I have no idea. Clearly they know each other, right?¡¯ I said. Clearly. Krissy agreed. But ¡­ why did she call her ¡°Kina¡±? ¡®Good question, wish I had an answer.¡¯ It was obvious that Councilwoman Korolan Mirei and Wensah had some sort of history, but it was anyone¡¯s guess at this point. What did an influential elf in Solace ¡ª a place famous for its collective distrust of gods and spirits ¡ª have to do with possibly the worst god out there? Minutes passed in awkward Silence. Kiwa had become some sort of statue ¡ª it didn¡¯t even look like she was breathing as she sat there completely frozen. Tilry had tried to make herself smaller, and then hid behind Kiwa ¡ª not that anyone but me and Wensah could see her. Hisa looked confused, and she didn¡¯t seem getting tired of turning her head back and forth between her grandmother and the goddess. Master Fenar was the only one who didn¡¯t seem to have a problem with the situation. He took large sips of his Earl Grey, even asked for a refill, which Krissy did for him. Then he just smiled the smile of someone who knew exactly what was going on, but wasn¡¯t going to get involved or give away any information. He was just enjoying the show, wasn¡¯t he? After five minutes of this staring contest, Wensah blinked first. ¡®I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you again,¡¯ she said to Komi. ¡®So, it is you,¡¯ the woman said, narrowing her eyes at the goddess. ¡®I wish you had come to visit sooner.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ve been ¡­ busy,¡¯ Wensah said. ¡®I¡¯m a grand spirit now.¡¯ That was a lame excuse, even for Wensah. ¡®I can imagine.¡¯ Komi smiled at her. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a fake smile or not. ¡®How is godhood treating you?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s ¡­ alright.¡¯ ¡®Alright? Just alright?¡¯ Komi asked. Wensah didn¡¯t answer. ¡®You could have at least come by before we left Fayr-Sitan. If for nothing else than to say good-bye. I thought we were friends.¡¯ ¡®Friends? I was your familiar, Komi. Did you think I would just casually stroll by for a chat after what you had put me through?¡¯ Wensah snapped, standing up from her seat, her composure gone with the wind. ¡®And now you¡¯re using my idiot underling to ¡­ to ¡­¡¯ I didn¡¯t know how Wensah had managed to get a body that was so human, so real. The expression on her face, the way moisture glinted in the corners of her eyes, her ears getting red with her rising emotions ¡ª if I didn¡¯t know, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to tell she wasn¡¯t human. ¡®Kina, please calm down,¡¯ Komi said as she stood up, changing her tone from accusatory to calm and soothing. Komi walked around the table to stand in front of her. Wensah took a step back, lifting her arms as if preparing to defend herself. ¡®I just wanted to see you. To see what you look like now. And to thank you for still caring enough about us to help.¡¯ ¡®Uhm ¡­ should I tell her?¡¯ I whispered to Krissy. No, you shouldn¡¯t. Krissy shut me down immediately. ¡®I¡¯m called Wensah now,¡¯ Wensah said, her voice small like a little girl¡¯s who had just been scolded by her parents. ¡®How did you even know it was me?¡¯ Wensah stayed still as Komi put her arms around her and pulled her into a hug. ¡®I heard there was a god who wore a red dress,¡¯ Komi smiled, her chin resting on Wensah¡¯s shoulder. ¡®When I saw it for myself, I knew it was you. I still have that dress, you know. I remember how much you liked it.¡¯ Slowly, as if unsure if it was what she really wanted to do, Wensah lifted her arms and returned Komi¡¯s embrace, lowering her head onto her shoulder. ¡®It¡¯s a beautiful dress,¡¯ Wensah whispered, and if I didn¡¯t know better, I would have sworn she was sobbing quietly. ¡®I missed you,¡¯ Komi whispered, her hands gently rubbing the goddess¡¯ back. ¡®Of course you did,¡¯ Wensah whispered back, and this time I was sure she was kind of sobbing. Up until now I had thought Wensah had one setting, and that setting was ¡°bitch¡±. As it turned out, there was a button somewhere, and Komi knew how to find it. It activated another setting I would call ¡­ hm ¡­ ¡°hurt child¡±, maybe? Something like that. Even without knowing the details, this was quite the revelation. Who would have guessed that the insufferable goddess had once been the familiar of Fenar¡¯s wife? I wasn¡¯t sure how I was supposed to process this information. The only experience I had about host and familiars was my own, and I was sure it wasn¡¯t representative of the norm. Still, it seemed Korolan Mirei had somehow managed to traumatise her own familiar ¡ª it really reinforced the notion that the Hellspawn Familiy was not to be fucked with. I observed quietly as the two women ¡ª god and elf ¡ª held each other like two long lost siblings who had just found each other after, well, centuries of being apart. This was definitely not the right time to butt in, but I had to ask Wensah about dealing with Mr Instinct. I was slowly gathering the courage to interrupt the two of them, but it turned out to be wasted effort ¡ª after a minute of this wholesome reunion, it was Fenar who decided the scene had been going on for too long. ¡®Alright, enough of this now,¡¯ he said, putting his tea cup down, looking at the pair as they untangled themselves from the hug, turning their heads to him. ¡®How tactless,¡¯ Komi complained. ¡®Darling, we were having a moment here.¡¯ ¡®Moments last for moments, not minutes,¡¯ Fenar grumbled. ¡®I never liked you, Fenar,¡¯ Wensah said to his face, then turned back to Komi. ¡®I can¡¯t believe you married the brute.¡¯ ¡®Oh, he¡¯s come a long way since ¡­ you know,¡¯ the woman said to the goddess, her smile fading. ¡®Long enough to stay away from giant Tentacle Horrors and leading everyone to certain death?¡¯ Wensah demanded, glaring at Fenar. I gulped. Or wanted to gulp. Giant Tentacle Horror? Whatever the hell she was talking about, I did not like it. Krissy stayed calm upon hearing the words, at least outwardly, but I could sense her heartbeat fastening. Fenar just waved his hand, as if a Tentacle Horror ¡ª contrary to everything I had experienced being one ¡ª wasn¡¯t a big deal. ¡®It wasn¡¯t all bad, you ended up a god, didn¡¯t you?¡¯ he said. ¡®I almost ¡­ we almost all ended up dead.¡¯ Wensah countered. ¡®We barely made it.¡¯ ¡®It had to be done,¡¯ Komi came to her husband¡¯s defense. ¡®You didn¡¯t even protest,¡¯ Wensah snapped at her. ¡®It had to be done.¡¯ Komi repeated herself, her voice softer, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, with a pang of guilt. I couldn¡¯t deny I was curious as to what had happened in the past with these three. But did I really want to know? I had a feeling no matter how that story had ended, the moral of it would be ¡°Tentacle Horror bad, everyone else good.¡± Yep, curiosity killed the cat, and since I didn¡¯t have any desire to hang around dead cats, or to become one, I decided not to ask. Not here and now anyway. Fenar seemed to be unwilling to continue the argument. ¡®The past is the past, Kina. Unless another evil, tentacled god pops up in the world, we should be fine,¡¯ Fenar said, shrugging, then reaching for the hot water and the teabags to make himself another cup. ¡®You haven¡¯t heard about another of those fuckers coming into existence, have you?¡¯ ¡®Uhm ¡­ no. Of course not. There isn¡¯t another one. I would know. The other gods would know,¡¯ Wensah lied. First time I¡¯d seen her flustered ¡ª had it not been a Tentacle Horror related fluster, I would have savoured the sight. Setting aside that Fenar¡¯s words had pretty much confirmed that one of my kind had achieved a level that was close to godhood or thereabouts, I had to get Wensah to help me sort out Mr Instinct. At the moment, it was a Level 34 familiar-problem, and something was telling me it would be a bad idea to wait until it became a Level 200 or 300 god-problem. ¡®Pssst! Wensah! Pssst!¡¯ I whispered, trying to draw her attention. I didn¡¯t know why I did that ¡ª no-one except her and Krissy could hear me, and whispering didn¡¯t make a difference. What do you want, stupid? Wensah¡¯s thought-voice came. No time like the present, so I just said it, ¡®I have a problem and I need your help.¡¯ ¡®Well, congratulations on your problem. Sort it out. I¡¯m busy,¡¯ she said, while Komi was saying something about old times and necessary sacrifices. What kind of problem? Krissy joined the discussion, sounding worried. ¡®A Tentacle Horror problem. The creature is trying to take control and I don¡¯t know how to stop it,¡¯ I said. Maybe it sounded a bit more dramatic than it really was, but it got the goddess¡¯ attention. ¡®We need to deal with this before it¡¯s too late. From what I heard, an out-of-control Tentacle Horror isn¡¯t something to look forward to, is it?¡¯ For gods¡¯ sake, Kevin! Why didn¡¯t you tell me? Krissy shrieked directly into my mind. ¡®Sorry, it¡¯s a relatively new development, and ¡­ I was busy,¡¯ I said. Lamely. That¡¯s not good. Not good at all. Wensah thought-yelled at me. ¡®So ¡­ what are we ¡­¡¯ I began to ask, but Wensah was already talking to Komi. ¡®It was nice to see you again, Komi, but I have some urgent business to attend. I¡¯m taking Krissintha¡¯s familiar with me, so look after her and ¡­ the other one,¡¯ she said, pointing at Kitala Iwani, not remembering her name for some reason. ¡®You¡¯re taking me with you? Where?¡¯ I asked, but instead of an answer, she simply lifted her arm and shoved a finger into my spherical body. The next thing I knew was Black Essence flowing straight to the tiny portal within me. Shit. I knew where we were going. Chapter Seventy-two Chapter Seventy-Two Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain wasn¡¯t sure if the popping sound she heard was in her ears or in her mind. But with that sound the goddess vanished and so did Kevin. Just like that, without much warning or preamble. Again. And for who knows how long this time. Everyone in the dining room stared befuddled at the spot where Lady Wensah had been just moments ago. The sudden silence was understandable, and it gave Krissintha some time to comprehend the rather shocking revelations of the evening. Wensah. Her and Kevin¡¯s patron god. She used to be a familiar? To Master Fenar¡¯s wife? Fought a ¡°giant Tentacle Horror¡± and became a god in the process? That was a lot to digest, and Krissintha wasn¡¯t convinced her life would be any better or easier having learned about it. And then, there was Kevin. A former human Lady Wensah had somehow turned into a spirit. Or merged with a spirit. A Tentacle Horror of all things, because what else? She hadn¡¯t heard it said outright, but it sounded like it was the most dangerous evil spirit known to the world. It was a strange thing to even think about ¡ª to her Kevin was just ¡­ Kevin. She no longer saw him as a malevolent entity who had nothing on his mind except devouring every soul he came across. Kevin wasn¡¯t that. She had almost reached a point where she was comfortable calling him a friend, but ¡­ After this latest admission of going out of control, and of course having witnessed the weird bickering between god and familiar more than once, her confidence wasn¡¯t exactly swelling in either of them. Krissintha was beginning to see the reason why the elves ¡ª Master Fenar most of all ¡ª disliked spirits with such vehemence. All this spirit-fuckery might have been more trouble than it was worth, but ¡­ Krissintha had come a long way since the downfall of her family, and it was thanks to Kevin no matter how she looked at it. The man-turned-spirit hadn¡¯t let her down yet ¡ª well, not seriously, not with anything that mattered. She had survived so far, she had trained, she had fought, she even got injured. Life was a long ¡ª hopefully long ¡ª series of ups and downs, wasn¡¯t it? Kevin was just going through one of the ¡°downs¡±, wasn¡¯t he? Nothing Lady Wensah couldn¡¯t fix, she was a god after all. Confidence more or less restored. ¡®What ¡­ just happened?¡¯ Someone¡¯s voice interrupted Krissintha¡¯s internal meanderings. She saw Hisa looking at her grandmother, then her grandfather, confused by the events, asking for someone to explain. ¡®That idiot Kina went back to the spirit-world and took Misery¡¯s familiar with her.¡¯ Fenar provided the explanation with a bored voice, as if explaining a fighting stance to a particularly untalented student for the hundredth time. ¡®Come now, Fenar, that¡¯s not nice,¡¯ Komi chided him. ¡®And her name is Wensah now.¡¯ ¡®Kina, Wensah, nothing but trouble.¡¯ Krissintha turned to look at Kiwa while councilwoman Komi was giving Fenar a lesson on manners. Probably a futile endeavour. ¡®Tilry says Kevin¡¯s still here. At least his body is, well, his avatar,¡¯ Kiwa whispered. ¡®I¡¯m not sure what it means, but she says it¡¯s like being unconscious here and conscious over there.¡¯ Krissintha didn¡¯t know what it meant either, she just hoped whatever problem Kevin was experiencing would be sorted out and he¡¯d return soon. ¡®Misery!¡¯ Fenar called out to her ¡ª it seemed Komi¡¯s lecture was over. ¡®The counter evil spirit exercise will be held in three days. Think your weird god will bring your weird familiar back by then? We don¡¯t want to change the timetable again.¡¯ ¡®They didn¡¯t tell me, but I think yes,¡¯ Krissintha stated, hoping she sounded confident enough to convince the man. Fenar nodded and grunted something she didn¡¯t understand, and that was it. ¡®I think it¡¯s time we retire for the night,¡¯ Komi announced and stood up from her chair. ¡®I know Kin ¡­ I mean Wensah asked me to look after you, but the barracks aren¡¯t that far and you have a bodyguard.¡¯ ¡®We¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ Krissintha assured her, and with that dinner was concluded. *** Krissintha didn¡¯t need a bodyguard at all, but Kitala Iwani seemed to like the idea, so she didn¡¯t argue. Maybe she liked feeling useful, but a bodyguard? Elves were nice and agreeable people ¡ª a fact Toven and Fenar had repeatedly reiterated to Krissintha while doing their best to prove they were exceptions ¡ª and elven cities were safe even after dark. She hadn¡¯t been spending a lot of time in Gal Themar or Sek Arthem ¡ª mostly on account of her training ¡ª but the absence of the kind of unsavoury characters and activities prevalent in human cities was still noticeable. As far as she could tell, petty crime wasn¡¯t an issue in elven society, and even without a familiar or a bodyguard, there was nothing to worry about. Kiwa didn¡¯t have much to do. Greetings from the occasional passerby made for a good atmosphere, and the slow, hour-long trek back to Fifth Ranger¡¯s compound passed without incidents and the appropriate amount of discomfort for someone with a twisted ankle. The gate of the compound came into view. Six people stood in the light of lanterns fixed to the wall on either side of the entrance, and Krissintha could hear a conversation ¡ª or perhaps some sort of mild argument ¡ª taking place. Kiwa ¡ª leaning into her unnecessary role as a bodyguard ¡ª sped up and walked in front of Krissintha until they came close enough to see who the elves were and hear what they were saying. Kiwa let out a sigh of disappointment. It was two rangers trying to explain to four civilians ¡ª one of them a child ¡ª why they weren¡¯t allowed to enter the compound. Krissintha had a feeling her companion had been looking forward to some trouble, but there wasn¡¯t any. As expected. The guards noticed them and immediately beckoned them over to their little group. They had to go through the gate one way or another, and it looked like the elves had something to say, so there was no avoiding them. As they came to stand in front of the visitors, Krissintha recognised them instantly. Tomas, Ferin, another woman and a young girl, both of them former captives on the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡®You know them?¡¯ Kiwa asked Krissintha, looking the people over. ¡®They were on the galley.¡¯ The young girl ¡ª couldn¡¯t have been older than six or seven ¡ª quickly hid behind the woman Krissintha supposed was her mother. One of the guards scowled and said, ¡®You two have a free pass, but I don¡¯t think you can bring guests to the compound.¡¯ Krissintha nodded and turned to the visitors who were looking at her as if she was some kind of apparition. ¡®Can I help you?¡¯ she asked, looking at Tomas, then Ferin, then at the woman sheltering her child behind her. Clean and dressed properly they all looked a lot better than during their first meeting on the ork ship, although it wasn¡¯t hard to tell they were still shaken by the events. ¡®You ¡­ look different,¡¯ Tomas said carefully, looking her up and down as unobtrusively as he could. ¡®I¡¯ve been to dinner in town. And my ranger gear is being cleaned,¡¯ Krissintha said, then asked again, ¡®How can I help you?¡¯ ¡®Well, we ¡­¡¯ Tomas began to say rather hesitantly. ¡®We never had the chance to thank you for what you did.¡¯ Ferin took over from the man. ¡®Thank you for saving us.¡¯ Despite the nervous look on her face, she sounded infinitely more confident than before. The woman kind of reminded her of her past self, when she had to flee for her life, had to bargain with an evil spirit and had to commandeer a couple of sailors. Nervous? Shaken? Distressed? Frightened? Words did a poor job describing how she had felt back then, or how Ferin was probably feeling now. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure what she was supposed to say to her beyond the obvious, customary reply, so she said it as she gave the visitors a slight bow of her head. ¡®You¡¯re welcome.¡¯ Quiet sniffling emanated from behind the woman who was yet to introduce herself. The girl was gripping her mother¡¯s skirt tightly, peeking and stealing glances at Krissintha, then hiding herself again. The mother chuckled nervously, then gently pushed her daughter to stand next to her. The little girl was adorable ¡ª her silvery hair was only shoulder length, her purple dress was similar to Kiwa¡¯s, and the small bag she had over her shoulders was adorned with colourful, floral embroidery. A bag made for children, no doubt. ¡®I am Limaran Iraka.¡¯ the woman finally introduced herself, bowing her head to the two spiritualists. ¡®And this is my daughter, Temaren Laila.¡¯ ¡®Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Krissintha. Also known as Misery. So ¡­ is there something you need from me?¡¯ Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure what this was about. Coming to say thank you for the rescue was a nice gesture, but was that really it? ¡®Uhm ¡­ as Ferin said, I ¡­ we wanted to thank you as well. You know, for rescuing us,¡¯ Limaran Iraka said almost stuttering. She patted her daughter¡¯s head. The girl ¡ª little Tela ¡ª shirked away, turning her head left and right like a scared puppy. Krissintha was sure she was making important decisions, such as whether to run or stay, talk or be quiet, or to scream or not to scream. ¡®My husband ¡­ her father. He ¡­ when the enemy raided our farm ¡­ he didn¡¯t make it,¡¯ the mother explained, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked down on her child. ¡®She hasn¡¯t fully understood ¡­ she ¡­¡¯ ¡®I know what you mean,¡¯ Krissintha said, stopping the woman before she broke down crying. She was a little worried about coming across as rude, or at least unfeeling, but there was a question she still hadn¡¯t received an answer for, so she asked again, speaking as softly as she could. ¡®How can I help you, Lira?¡¯ The woman opened and closed her mouth without saying a word, her eyes wide with a sudden panic. Tomas and Ferin were about to intervene, but all of a sudden the little girl made her decision and stepped forward. Everyone looked down at her as she straightened her posture, lifting her head so she could look the human spiritualist in the eyes. She stood before Krissintha with the determination of a warrior facing the toughest opponent of her life, ready to do whatever it took to achieve victory. Krissintha smiled at the girl, and she relaxed. Then she fiddled her bag off her shoulder, opened it and reached into it and held something up to her. The misery mask. Krissintha scowled at the thing. She could have sworn it had gone down with the ork ship, but here it was in the hands of an elf girl named Tela. She had to stop herself from trying to squat down ¡ª it would have been a huge mistake with her twisted ankle. Instead, she resumed smiling as she took the mask from the girl. The visitors let out a collective sigh of relief. Krissintha raised an eyebrow at them. Just what had they been expecting? That she¡¯d give a tongue-lashing to a child for bringing back something she¡¯d lost? Well, the three elves had seen what a displeased spiritualist with a displeased familiar could do. From their point of view, apprehension was a perfectly justified thing to feel. She looked down at Tela again. She had been there, too, she had seen all the orks and their slaves, she had seen how they had died, and Krissintha was sure she knew who had slaughtered them. ¡®How do you have this?¡¯ she asked her, hoping her smile was as reassuring as could be. ¡®I ¡­ picked it up,¡¯ Tela answered, her voice barely audible. ¡®Well, thank you for bringing it to me,¡¯ she said and held the mask up. Nothing happened. Damn, she had forgotten Kevin was on a trip with Lady Wensah. No Jack¡¯s Room for the time being. She handed the mask to Kiwa. Tela reached back into her bag, and the thing she presented to her this time made Krissintha gasp. She took the white mug with the green zig-zag lines and stared at it in wonder. ¡®I ¡­ wanted to bring this, too,¡¯ the girl said. Krissintha gave her the biggest smile she could manage. The girl finally let go of her wariness and smiled back at her. ¡®Thank you. This mug is important. You might have just saved my life,¡¯ she said, and as far as she was concerned it wasn¡¯t an exaggeration. Who knew what Toven would do to the one responsible for the disappearance of his favourite mug. ¡®Save? Aren¡¯t you strong? Aren¡¯t you the one saving others?¡¯ the girl asked in disbelief, looking at her as if she had just confessed to the most heinous of crimes. ¡®Oh, well. I am a spiritualist. My familiar makes me strong.¡¯ Krissintha tried to explain and save the situation. ¡®And her familiar is something else,¡¯ Kiwa muttered and was ignored. ¡®Can ¡­ can I be a spiritualist?¡¯ Tela asked, her confidence growing by the second. ¡®Well, not until you¡¯re much older,¡¯ Krissintha answered her, shifting her gaze slightly to see the reactions of her mother, and of Tomas and Ferin. Telling a child in Solace that she could become a spiritualist might not have been wise, but the three elves didn¡¯t say anything. Was that a good sign? She decided not to push her luck and said to the girl, ¡®Maybe you can start by becoming a ranger. They¡¯re the ones who will always protect everyone. Spiritualists, well, they come and go at the whims of their patron gods.¡¯ As far as Krissintha knew it wasn¡¯t the case for most spiritualists ¡ª unless fledgling gods like Lady Wensah or Sivera were involved ¡ª but the nods of approval coming from everyone meant it was the right thing to say to the little girl. ¡®I¡¯ll ¡­ I¡¯ll try.¡¯ Tela nodded slowly. Then it seemed her courage for the day ran out ¡ª she scuttled back into hiding behind her mother, but not without giving Krissintha one last smile. What a cute kid. Was it an astonishing presence of mind, or perhaps childish curiosity that had made her pick up a mask and a mug on a ship filled with orks and death? Whichever it was, she was a brave kid. Maybe she would really become a ranger one day. The guards were happy to see the visitors leave, now that whatever business they had come to conduct was done. Krissintha and Kiwa walked through the gate and took the path heading to the barracks. ¡®What¡¯s with the mug, boss? Is it really that important?¡¯ Kiwa asked. ¡®It¡¯s Toven¡¯s favourite mug.¡¯ ¡®Oh. I see.¡¯ And that reminded Krissintha: if the counter evil spirit exercise was going to be held here in Sek Artem, it meant Toven would probably be in attendance. He might even be arriving soon, and with Kevin gone again for who knows how long, it would be her job to return the mug and make the appropriate excuses and apologies. Krissintha smiled as she realised that all these things ¡ª Toven¡¯s mug, Deni¡¯s dress ¡ª were inconsequential. They were nothing more than a distraction to keep her mind from wandering off and bring up recent, dreadful memories or point out all the uncertainties of the future. Kevin might have had the right idea after all: ¡°Keep calm and carry on.¡± What else was there to do? The barracks were coming into view, a single lantern at the entrance still burning. It was time for a good night¡¯s sleep. Maybe her weird, tentacled, former-human familiar would be back in the morning. ¡®And he still owes me pancakes,¡¯ Krissintha muttered. ¡®Pancakes? What¡¯s that? Who owes you?¡¯ Kiwa asked with sudden enthusiasm ¡ª probably ready to beat anyone who owed her ¡°boss¡±. ¡®Kevin. It¡¯s some kind of food, I think.¡¯ Krissintha shared her thoughts. ¡®I guess we¡¯ll know when he comes back.¡¯ Chapter Seventy-three Chapter Seventy-three ¡®Holyshitwhatthefuck!¡¯ I blurted the words out. If I told an AI image generator to consume some LSD then create a background image of nebulas for a planetarium in the style of H. R. Giger, the result might have come close to the endless, kaleidoscopic nightmare-space the Spirit World turned out to be. It was depressingly dark and joyfully colourful at the same time ¡ª the epitome of weirdness as far as I was concerned. And I wasn¡¯t even seeing it with eyes. I was seeing it through ten tentacles ¡ª which wasn¡¯t anything new ¡ª but with no land, no sky and no horizon, orientation was sketchy at best. I couldn¡¯t really tell if my tenties were all pointing the same way or not ¡ª things like directions or distance didn¡¯t have a presence here, and in the absence of anything I could use as a point of reference, it took me a couple of seconds to come to terms with this infinite space and the seemingly unmoving backdrop of ¡­ stuff. ¡®What? You don¡¯t like it here?¡¯ the familiar voice of a certain goddess came to me, and strangely enough it helped me gather my focus. ¡®Is this ¡­ the Spirit World then?¡¯ I asked the stupidest question possible. Wensah decided it didn¡¯t warrant an answer. ¡®How can anyone bear to live here?¡¯ ¡®Huh! If you haven¡¯t been anywhere else, this is quite pleasant,¡¯ she said, her voice filled with distaste. ¡®And if you have?¡¯ I hazarded the question. ¡®Then you might not want to spend your every waking hour here.¡¯ The reply came. Yeah, that made sense. Spirits only had waking hours, and I for one wanted to go back to Krissy already because sod this place. Unfortunately, I had some things to take care of, and unfortunately, I needed Wensah¡¯s help. And speaking of Wensah ¡­ where was she? I could hear her but I couldn¡¯t see her. Well, she wasn¡¯t the only thing I didn¡¯t see. Usually some of my tenties would have some of the others in view, much like how a human would see his own arms and legs. Not this time, though, which was a little strange. I moved one of my tentacles, and soon enough a few of the buggers were coming into view. So was Wensah. Wensah? Was it really her? I might have got too used to her perfect human appearance, because the monstrosity that was slowly swimming into my tentie¡¯s field of vision was anything but that, and I had a hard time believing it was her. ¡®Is ¡­ that you?¡¯ I asked the giant, six-armed ¡­ no, at least eight-armed, humanoid colossus made of blue and red spirit-stuff, hovering in the middle of nothing an undetermined distance from me. ¡®Can you see anyone else around here?¡¯ her sweet, feminine voice echoed in my mind while spreading two of her monstrously long spirit-arms out as if presenting herself. Encouraged by her usual snark, I moved all my tentacles to get a better look at her as well as everything else in this fever-dream world, including myself. It was a mistake. The so-called avatar I had in the material realm was kind of cute and did nothing to prepare me for the moment I looked into the proverbial mirror. Observation number one: I was still a Tentacle Horror, and the horror part of it was beginning to make sense. I was of a mind to scream and run from myself. My tentacles were nothing like the thin, danger-noodles my worldly avatar had ¡ª the real ones were reminiscent of those of a kraken. They were long, thick at the base where they joined my body, gradually tapering to a pointy end. Instead of being spotted with suckers like any ordinary kraken would have it, my appendages had curved spikes jutting out of them, because why just grip and constrict when you could also lacerate your prey at the same time. Fucking tentacle horrors! Observation number two: my body. I was looking at an uneven, pear-shaped abomination, something like a balloon that was being squeezed. The blue, translucent surface was riddled with enough small dents and craters to compete with the moon. And as if that hadn¡¯t been enough, spirit-tendrils covered the entire thing like the vines of some creeper plants. The worst part was that I finally found something to use as a reference to determine sizes and distances. My soul. My human soul. In a large crater that looked like the maw of a sandworm sat my soul, embedded into the Tentacle Horror as if it had sunk chest deep into quicksand or something. A white, human shaped mass of spirit-stuff in a pit of blue. Only the head and shoulders were out into the open, and to my horror, some of the spirit-tendrils pierced it, entered it and spread inside it like parasitic roots. I was just staring at myself, my mind struggling to comprehend what it was seeing. Observation number three: size. Based on my human soul ¡ª which in my experience always corresponded to the size of the body it belonged to ¡ª the Tentacle Horror was as large as a double-decker bus. And that led to observation number four: if I was a double-decker bus, then Wensah was friggin¡¯ Buckingham Palace. The damned goddess was huge. And not very competent. When she had mentioned soul-surgery, I had been imagining something more ¡­ surgical. Not this mess. For god¡¯s sake, my soul looked like it got caught and cocooned by the xenomorphs from Aliens. And on that note: ¡®Wensah, aren¡¯t human souls supposed to be teal? Why is mine white?¡¯ ¡®Because you¡¯re stupid,¡¯ she said. Of course. Why had I even expected anything else than name-calling? But to my surprise, she followed it up with an actual answer. ¡®Also because Essence in your world condenses more when forming a soul, that¡¯s why. Trust me, I would have picked anyone in this world over you, but their souls aren¡¯t as firm. Wouldn¡¯t have survived bonding to any spirit, let alone a Tentacle Horror.¡¯ ¡®Bonding? Alright. So, is it this bonding thing that¡¯s the problem? Is it like ¡­ don¡¯t know. Coming apart or something?¡¯ ¡®Coming apart? Really? Do you hear yourself?¡¯ Wensah scoffed. ¡®Alright, listen, just pretend for a moment that I don¡¯t know anything about souls and spirits.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t have to, you don¡¯t know anything.¡¯ ¡®Then start fucking explaining, will you? So I can understand what¡¯s going on.¡¯ The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. As always, I was losing my patience with Wensah. Her ginormous body floated closer to my revolting self, and she made a sound that imitated a sigh filled with exasperation. I moved a few more of my tentacles, bending them around so I could take a closer look at myself from different angles. ¡®Well, this isn¡¯t how you were last time I checked,¡¯ Wensah said. ¡®You¡¯ve been growing too fast while damaging yourself, and the remnant of the Tentacle Horror itself seems to be trying to rebuild itself. ¡®Didn¡¯t you say the critter was gone?¡¯ I asked, recalling my first interaction with the goddess. ¡®I said you were in control,¡¯ she corrected me. ¡®Great. So, how do we keep it that way?¡¯ Wensah stopped moving towards me ¡ª a tremendously large shadow of doom looming over me ¡ª then she stretched out an arm and brought it so close to my Tentacle Horror body that I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She didn¡¯t touch me though, and after a few moments, I realised that just as I wasn¡¯t really seeing but sensing things with my tentacles, it was probably the same for her and she was using her fingers to have a look. Spirits were weird. ¡®Alright, stupid, start explaining what you¡¯ve done here,¡¯ she said angrily. ¡®Uhm ¡­ what do you mean?¡¯ What I¡¯d done? Wasn¡¯t this all her handiwork? Then she pointed at a spot on my body. I pulled a tentacle closer to see better and I realised the spot wasn¡¯t on me but inside me. And now that I was looking, really looking, I saw a spiritual ¡­ organ? Construct? Something. ¡®That¡¯s Jack¡¯s Room,¡¯ I informed her. ¡®I can store physical things in there.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ she said, then she pointed at something else. ¡®And that?¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s a secondary Essence Pool, and before you ask, that third thing almost next to it is the Spirit Room. To store materials made of modified Essence.¡¯ ¡®I see,¡¯ she said. Being so large and so close to me, I couldn¡¯t really see her head, but I was sure she was shaking it in disapproval. On the other hand, I finally got to have a look at my real body and all it contained. And now that I was here, reunited with myself, I could feel something was wrong, and it wasn¡¯t just Mr Instinct trying to take over. ¡®Is there a problem?¡¯ I asked innocently, fully expecting a barrage of insults and a long list of my wrongdoings. Wensah of course didn¡¯t disappoint. ¡®You stupid, ignorant fool. This wouldn¡¯t have happened if you had just stayed put on that island and kept collecting Essence for the rest of your life. You absolutely, undeniably, astonishingly idiotic human soul!¡¯ she growled at me. Normally I would have just ignored her tirade, but considering she could literally squat me like a fly with one hand, and my body was experiencing technical difficulties that needed fixing, I decided I should take her seriously. ¡®Alright, point taken, I know nothing about spirit-things. So, what have I done wrong, and how do we fix it?¡¯ I asked with a tone as calm and professional as I could make it. ¡®What have you done wrong? What haven¡¯t you?¡¯ she wailed. ¡®And we are not going to fix it.¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re not? Why?¡¯ I asked, deadly anxiety falling on me like a bomb. ¡®Because I¡¯m done pampering you, so this time you are going to fix the problems you created yourself,¡¯ she snarled. ¡®And if you can¡¯t, then I guess I will start looking for a new familiar for my darling Krissintha. She is so much more reasonable than you. Why, for all the Essence in existence, couldn¡¯t she have a soul like those in your world?¡¯ Oh shit oh shit oh shit! I knew I had to say something in my defense and I had to say it quickly, before Wensah would turn around and leave. And this wasn¡¯t the time to argue, or to point out that all this had started with her, not with me. I took a deep mental breath, and forced the best forgery of humility and repentance on myself that I could find in me. ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ sorry, Wensah, I wasn¡¯t born a spirit, I¡¯m human. Sort of. This is all new to me,¡¯ I began, choosing my words carefully. ¡®I promise I¡¯ll do my best to fix this, alright? Just give me some pointers, or at least explain what I¡¯ve done wrong. And maybe some extra pointers to avoid future mistakes? That¡¯s not too much to ask, is it?¡¯ Wensah hummed thoughtfully for a moment or two, then said, ¡®Alright. Listen carefully, because I¡¯m not going to say things twice.¡¯ *** ¡®¡­ and that¡¯s why you¡¯re not likely to survive longer than the next few days.¡¯ Wensah concluded her lecture on the anatomy of my Tentacle Horror body and the spectacular way in which I had fucked it up. Great. That was just great. I was literally on the brink of dying, the Tentacle Horror ¡ª a.k.a Mr Instinct ¡ª was in panic mode, trying to fix things by attempting to take back control, and Wensah had made it clear she was not going to do anything to fix it. ¡®Alright. I think I understand, and I think I know what to do,¡¯ I said, finding it difficult to feign any confidence. Because I had almost no idea what to do. ¡®Good. I¡¯ll be back in two days. That should be enough for you to either fix this mess or to give in to the Tentacle Horror and disappear,¡¯ she said. ¡®What a wasted opportunity. I should have picked a better soul.¡¯ And with that last statement, she vanished. Damn goddess! As if this wasn¡¯t her fault to begin with. Sure, I had made all sorts of illegal modifications to the poor, tentacle-critter, but what had she expected would happen without her explaining anything to me in the first place? She could have at least given me the basic rundown of how things worked when I had first woken up in this world ¡ª not a complete Tentacle Horror User Manual, but something more than ¡°Collect Essence or I¡¯ll kill you.¡± But that was then, this was now, and now was different. Now she had taken the time and effort to walk me through how this particular spirit was supposed to function, and how it was all sorts of doomed because of my haphazard building projects. The way I understood Wensah¡¯s explanations, two main issues needed to be dealt with urgently. The first was my body. Setting aside the question of how consciousness worked and where was mine located, all my senses had been residing in my avatar body from the moment of my awakening as a Tentacle Horror, and I¡¯d had almost no awareness of my actual body in the Spirit World. Until now. I suspected it was some sort of misguided precaution on Wensah¡¯s part, but that was besides the point. Building Jack¡¯s Room, my Secondary Essence Pool and the Spirit Room was like a bricklayer building a house using a remote controlled robot while blindfolded. I¡¯d been mucking about in the dark, consuming spirit-stuff, sending it through the Black Essence Portal and slamming these rooms together without much understanding. Thinking back, all those hints and tips from Mr Instinct had been attempts to prevent me from wrecking our shared body completely. We were still alive and in one piece, but I had done more shoddy modifications and additions to our body than what a Tentacle Horror could handle during its natural growth. We were bursting at the seams. The second issue was Mr Instinct. Mr Instinct ¡ª quite understandably ¡ª seemed to have had enough of my reckless expansionism, and decided to take matters into its own tentacles. At first it had been the subtle hints or occasional feelings of resistance from it. Then, my culinary tour of the ork galley had happened, and Mr Instinct had managed to commandeer a substantial amount from the consumed souls not only to start building itself up and gain strength, but to form some of those vine or root-like things and stick them into my soul. Now, some of those vine-things had been made by Wensah ¡ª they connected my soul¡¯s every node to the Tentacle Horror¡¯s body, giving me full control over it. They were orderly affairs, more like electrical wiring than roots, unlike the new ones Mr Instinct had sent my way. The new ones looked creepy, and some of them had reached a few of my nodes already. I supposed that was the reason I could actually hear Mr Instinct in my mind, demanding I eat more so it could create more of the roots, and eventually have me under its control and stop the madness I represented ¡ª from its point of view. Mr Instinct was easy to find. Just as I had a location within the Tentacle Horror ¡ª my human soul ¡ª the critter had one, too. I followed the root-like wires all the way to something that seemed like a node at first glance, but it was bigger, and on closer inspection turned out to be a small, spiritual soul-brain type thing ¡ª well, for the lack of a better way to put it. ¡®No!¡¯ Mr instinct protested the moment it realised I¡¯d found it. ¡®No what?¡¯ I asked. ¡®No!¡¯ it shrieked at me. Waves of ¡­ something washed over my soul, something like an invisible hand trying to restrain me, trying to exert control. I imagined Mr Instinct was seeing the sword hanging over its metaphorical head and it was doing whatever it could to prevent its own demise. Luckily it was not yet powerful enough to control me. Out of the two main issues, this was the easier one to solve. It would take some effort ¡ª and probably a lot of pain ¡ª but I could crush Mr Instinct and be done with it. But I wasn¡¯t sure what the consequences of that action would be. And fixing my body afterward would be a challenge, to put it mildly. Plus, I was kind of used to the naggy little asshole anyway, so I was inclined to look for an alternative solution before pressing the red button. I had two days before Wensah¡¯s glorious return, so it was time to start working on that alternative solution. Damn, being a pushover sucked. I was too nice for my own good. Chapter Seventy-four Chapter Seventy-four Mr Instinct was driving a hard bargain, surprisingly, all the while not letting up the mental-spiritual assaults on my soul, trying to wrest even the tiniest bit of control from me. It seemed negotiations and heroic last stands were kind of the same to Mr Instinct. It was weird. Even more shocking was the degree of intelligence the little bastard was displaying once we¡¯d got talking. Wasn¡¯t it supposed to have an animal intelligence, much like Akela¡¯s? Instead, I was slowly coming to the conclusion that the Tentacle Horror¡¯s mental capacity surpassed Akela¡¯s by a large margin. Considering Akela was the Einstein of wolves in my opinion, it was a worrying development. When I¡¯d discovered the probable reason why the critter was able to think and talk, I had regretted my life choices immediately. The spirit-brain-node that housed the critter was made of the same, blue-ish spirit-stuff as the rest of the body. Except for the white spiderweb-like network of strings running across inside it. There was only one place in this godforsaken realm where it could have got white spirit-stuff to use for enhancing its processing power. My friggin¡¯ soul. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, I discovered one of my soul-shoulders had what looked like little bite-marks. The twat had used one or more of those creepy roots to cannibalise me. And I hadn¡¯t even noticed. Mr Instinct had been building itself up like some spirit-Skynet, preparing to take over, right under my nose. Suffering an injury to my avatar body over in the material world hurt like hell, but a cheeky Tentacle Horror Instinct biting into my soul didn¡¯t? How on Earth did that make sense? On one hand, I was furious, barely able to keep myself from pressing that red button and wiping Mr Instinct from existence. On the other, I couldn¡¯t really blame it. Him. Maybe him. But negotiations were going somewhere, and I figured there was a very high chance I¡¯d need the thieving monster¡¯s expertise to fix things. At this point, I had to accept that my two choices were to either claim the Tentacle Horror¡¯s body as solely my own, then burst open and die, or to strike a deal with the original occupant and coexist happily ever after in a body that wasn¡¯t falling apart. Also, the fact that Wensah had left the critter alive in the first place made me suspect that his continued presence was necessary for the body to function. Or to exist at all. ¡®I¡¯m not giving you control of any tentacles. Not two, not one, not any. You¡¯d just grab everything and eat.¡¯ I rejected Mr Instinct¡¯s latest offer. ¡®Fuk yu!¡¯ Mr Instinct said with the eloquence I¡¯d come to expect from him over the past few hours of negotiating. And for good measure, he sent another wave of ¡­ something at me through those roots. It felt like a slap. ¡®Eat. Grow. More space inside. Idiot.¡¯ I wondered how much the guy had rummaged through my soul while taking bites of it for himself. I was certain he¡¯d got glimpses into my mind, or consciousness, because his vocabulary was insanely large for something that was supposed to be basically an animal. He also seemed to understand concepts that only made sense if you were human or thereabouts. ¡®Listen mate, I¡¯m willing to let you decide how we grow when I level up,¡¯ I presented my umpteenth counteroffer. ¡®But I get to decide who and what we eat. I have friends, and I¡¯m not going to just go around and eat everyone.¡¯ ¡®Everything food. Eat,¡¯ he argued. ¡®Friend stupid. What friend?¡¯ ¡®Okay, I¡¯m going to explain this to you once more, so listen you little cunt!¡¯ I growled at the critter. ¡®Out there, in the material world, there are people who are a lot stronger than us. Than you. Not to mention the bloody gods. If we go around causing trouble, meaning we go around recklessly and eat everything we see, we¡¯ll make enemies and we will be killed. Do you understand that? Do you want to be killed?¡¯ ¡®Fuk yu! Want to live!¡¯ the reply came, and with it another attempt to liquidise and siphon a small chunk of my human soul. ¡®Well, so do I, and fuck you, too,¡¯ I said, sighing and blocking the attempt with minimal mental-spiritual effort. ¡®So, you understand friends and enemies?¡¯ ¡®Friends, life. Enemies ¡­ death,¡¯ he said after a short pause. He was getting it, wasn¡¯t he? ¡®Exactly. For example: Krissy. She¡¯s a friend. She is helping us. So we can live.¡¯ ¡®Krissy. Friend. Not food,¡¯ Mr Instinct mused. I didn¡¯t know if your run-off-the-mill evil spirit could remember names and the faces ¡ª or souls ¡ª that went with them, and I found it somewhat scary that Mr Instinct could. An intelligent monster like him was dangerous in the extreme. I was sure Wensah hadn¡¯t accounted for this turn of events. In fact, I was sure she was fully expecting me to get rid of him, then die because of my inability to fix my body. Well, ¡°fuk yu¡± Wensah, that was not going to happen. ¡®Alright, listen carefully, last offer,¡¯ I said to Mr Instinct. ¡®We need to fix our body before it falls apart, so let¡¯s do that first. After that, I¡¯m in charge of the tentacles, and I decide who or what we eat and when. And we will eat. Just ¡­ not constantly. You can decide how we grow when we level up. I won¡¯t build anything or expand the rooms without your approval. And if something comes up you think is important, we¡¯ll discuss it and make informed decisions. Do you understand?¡¯ Mr Instinct was quiet for a few moments, then said, ¡®Fuk yu. More white soul. Then deal.¡¯ I felt him again trying to take a chunk out of me. I supposed I could afford to give him a small bite ¡ª the damage to my soul was less than minor, nowhere near the amount Fenar or Kiwa had. And for some reason it didn¡¯t hurt. I let Mr Instinct take the bite and I watched it happen. One of the weird, creepy root-things wiggled, stirring and mushing a penny-sized chunk of soul. Then the roots sucked it up and transported it to him. The white, webbing-like structure inside the brain-organ grew as soon as it received the materials. ¡®Fuk yu, it¡¯s good.¡¯ Mr Instinct said, sounding happy. ¡®Are you using my soul as a drug or something?¡¯ ¡®Drug? What¡¯s drug?¡¯ ¡®Nevermind. So, we have a deal?¡¯ ¡®We have deal.¡¯ Finally, after hours of the weirdest back and forth I¡¯d ever had, the deal was done. It wasn¡¯t ideal ¡ª trusting an evil spirit to honour a deal was a dubious proposition, but we had some fixing and rebuilding to do, and we had maybe a day and a half before Wensah¡¯s return. I would think of security measures against a Tentacle Horror takeover later. ¡®Good.¡¯ I said to the critter. ¡®Let our life-saving self-surgery begin!¡¯ *** The word surgery was a lot less fitting than I had initially thought. A more accurate way to describe what we were doing would have been a construction project. It was like gutting a building so we could redo it according to a safer and more comfortable design, while tiptoeing around landmines and hoping the building wouldn¡¯t collapse on us without warning. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Wensah had severed the Tentacle Horror¡¯s connections to his own nodes, made rather sturdy wires to connect my soul¡¯s nodes to them, then sort of coated them with a dark-blue layer a spirit-stuff. That layer prevented Mr Instinct from even trying to reconnect, depriving him of any control whatsoever. Why she hadn¡¯t placed similar protective measures around my soul, I had no idea. Since I wasn¡¯t willing to give any control to Mr Instinct, even if I could somehow bypass the node-shells, the critter appointed himself as the foreman of this construction site and began to yell orders at me, the lone labourer. The first order of business ¡ª and of course our first disagreement ¡ª was Jack¡¯s Room. Too big? Well. I had thought it was a good size, and I tried to argue that it was an exceptionally useful space. The damn critter was having none of it, and in the end I agreed to reclaim some of the building materials ¡ª a mixture of Essence, Mana and Spirit-Stuff ¡ª and use it to start filling in cracks and craters on the outer ¡°skin¡± of our shared body. Luckily, I could perform this task without damaging anything inside, and after about an hour¡¯s work, Jack¡¯s Room shrunk from 50 spaces to about 30. My Spirit-Room received similar treatment. I did it without complaining. I didn¡¯t have any usable units of measurements for its capacity, so the best I could say was that it went from small to smaller, giving me more stuff to use for repairs elsewhere. It wasn¡¯t hard work if I was honest. The Mana-content of the reclaimed materials made it responsive. All I had to do was to will it to move, and it did. Mr Instinct decided the Secondary Essence Pool could stay as it was, but it had to be in a different location. As it turned out, this pool was the main reason our body was pear-shaped as opposed to a sphere. Unfortunately, the pool as a whole refused to move just by willing it, so I had to pierce our skin and stick a tentacle inside to push it. I complained about the pain, Mr Instinct called me a ¡°pussy¡± ¡ª probably just to flaunt the vocabulary he had stolen from me in the first place ¡ª and after five minutes of swearing at each other, the pool arrived to its new home, forming a triangle with the Primary Essence Pool and Mana Pool. The critter then directed me to cut, shorten and re-attach the pathways between the Mana and the two Essence Pools. Those were near invisible, even to me, but I managed. The bulge that had made us a pear didn¡¯t deflate on its own, and it took a bit of tentacle-work to smooth things out and get us back to being nice and round like a soap-bubble. And we worked and worked and worked some more. The insides of a Tentacle Horror had proved to be flexible ¡ª no living, physical being would have survived the kind of internal rearranging we were doing ¡ª and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I started to feel more comfortable, the weird sensation of wrongness gone and forgotten. About a day and a half later it was all done. Or at least I thought it was all done, for Mr Instinct stopped telling me to do-this-do-that, and became quiet. I took a nice, long look at myself. Not exactly perfect ¡ª still had some rough patches on the outer layer of our skin ¡ª but we were structurally sound as far as either of us could tell. Aesthetics weren¡¯t a major concern anyway. I had to admit, I couldn¡¯t have done this on my own. I hadn¡¯t been born a Tentacle Horror, and I lacked the knowledge and of course the instinct and intuition of the creature native to this body. ¡®So ¡­ job done, eh?¡¯ I said, quite satisfied with the results. No reply. ¡®Are you there?¡¯ Still no reply. He was there, I had no doubt, but it seemed his attention was on something other than me or the great job I had done. I focused as well, trying to get a feel for what he was so preoccupied with. It didn¡¯t take long to realise that Mr Instinct was looking at the one thing we had not touched during our valiant and successful effort to restore order to our body. The Black Essence portal. Right. The portal was exactly where it had been before, exactly as small as it had been and probably doing exactly what it had been doing so far ¡ª being my internal bridge between the spirit world and the material world. I wished I knew how that thing actually worked, but I only had vague guesses. Seeing how intently the critter was focusing on it, however, was reason enough to start worrying. ¡®What is it? Is something wrong with the portal?¡¯ I asked, hoping he was simply fascinated and nothing else. ¡®Small,¡¯ he said after a while. ¡®Yeah. It¡¯s tiny. Is that a problem?¡¯ ¡®Too small.¡¯ ¡®Okay, again, is that a problem?¡¯ ¡®Fuk yu.¡¯ ¡®Riiiight,¡¯ I groaned. This guy was going to get on my nerves big time in the future, that much I could see already as clearly as the endless, alien Spirit-World around me. ¡®Can¡¯t work on body,¡¯ he stated. ¡®Body? You mean my other body? My avatar over there? ¡®One body. Stupid.¡¯ ¡®What do you mean? I have another one. With Krissy, right where I left it.¡¯ ¡®One. Body. Stupid,¡¯ Mr Instinct repeated himself, accentuating every word in a very human-like manner. ¡®One ¡­ body ¡­¡¯ I mused. ¡®Are you saying that my avatar isn¡¯t a separate thing?¡¯ ¡®One body. Same. Not separate,¡¯ he explained. I had been operating under the assumption that my avatar body in the material world was some sort of puppet. It had made sense. Sort of. But if I considered that I had eaten the avatars of a familiar and an evil spirit, and the act had not only killed them but allowed me to consume them in full, it made more sense that an avatar wasn¡¯t a representation of the actual spiritual body, it was the actual, spiritual body. I wasn¡¯t sure how that worked, but if the critter was right ¡ª and I had a feeling he was ¡ª it meant I couldn¡¯t really treat my cute little avatar as a disposable, remote controlled puppet. Also, was it just me, or Mr Instinct¡¯s vocabulary had grown since I¡¯d given up that coin-sized bit of my soul to him? What had I done? ¡®Okay,¡¯ I said. ¡®So we can¡¯t work on my avatar because the portal is small. Big deal.¡¯ I recalled Wensah injecting some Black Essence into the portal before using it to relocate my senses here ¡ª or my entire consciousness, I still wasn¡¯t sure. Judging by Mr Instinct¡¯s disapproval of the portal¡¯s current size, I figured it was Wensah¡¯s doing. Another precaution to prevent ¡­ something. I was going to ask the critter if he knew how to make Black Essence. I was sure I would get there myself eventually, but if I could get some help, then why not? I didn¡¯t get to ask the question. Mr Instinct went deathly quiet, erasing his presence almost completely. Just as he did, I sensed a disturbance in the force ¡ª more specifically, the stirring of Essence in what passed for air around here, then the smell of Black Essence appearing out of nowhere, bringing Wensah with it. *** ¡®Hello there,¡¯ Wensah greeted me. Whether it was in front or behind me, the giant, eight-armed goddess filled the considerably large field of vision my tentacles gave me. ¡®Has it been two days already?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Two and a half,¡¯ she said. ¡®And somehow you haven¡¯t killed yourself.¡¯ ¡®You sound disappointed.¡¯ ¡®Well, I already found a spirit who wanted to be my darling Krissintha¡¯s familiar,¡¯ she said. ¡®Wasted effort it seems.¡¯ If I had any blood in my body, it would have reached boiling point in an instant. ¡®You¡¯re a horrible, callous bitch, Wensah. I despise you.¡¯ The words came out before I could stop myself. Wasn¡¯t exactly diplomatic of me, but she had a talent to piss me off within the first few seconds of a conversation. So, I braced myself for whatever was coming. Wensah laughed, then carried on as if I had said nothing. ¡®Seeing how you¡¯re still in control of the Tentacle Horror, and not falling apart, I suppose I could give you another chance. Maybe there¡¯s hope for you.¡¯ I was baffled and relieved at the same time. She was usually in a mood to call me names and argue. ¡®Gee, you¡¯re in a good mood, aren¡¯t you?¡¯ I said to her, testing the waters. ¡®Well, things are looking up. I have good news,¡¯ she said, her voice more lively and excited than before. ¡®Oh? Do tell!¡¯ ¡®Komi¡¯s people are going to send an army or whatyoucallit to the barbarians on the Mainlands. And you and my darling Krissintha are going to go with them.¡¯ ¡®And ¡­ that¡¯s good?¡¯ ¡®More than good,¡¯ she said. Even her voice was grinning. ¡®You will take a look for me at what Sivera is doing with the damnable green idiots while you¡¯re there. Even better, I have found the perfect place to set up this Bureau thing. It¡¯s also on the Mainlands, so you can go there directly from the barbarians.¡¯ ¡®What place?¡¯ ¡®The Fentys Alliance,¡¯ she announced it like this was some sort of award ceremony. Well, the name meant nothing to me. ¡®Don¡¯t you worry your little, stupid head, I¡¯m sure my darling Krissintha knows all about it.¡¯ And there it was, the customary name-calling, a staple of my conversations with the goddess. But this time I¡¯d managed to lash out at her before she could call me all sorts of things. It felt good. Baby steps, Kevin, baby steps. ¡®Alright, so we go there and set up. Then what? How are we even supposed to get people to take your familiars? Is there like a set procedure or something?¡¯ ¡®How should I know?¡¯ Wensah said. All eight of her giant arms moved. I was sure she was shrugging. ¡®Take on whatever cause the two of you consider worthwhile and recruit. People willing to fight and die will want familiars. I shall give them familiars.¡¯ ¡®Is that it?¡¯ I asked, completely bewildered by how simple she had made this out to be. ¡®Well, yes. What did you expect?¡¯ I didn¡¯t know what I had expected. Something more ¡­ solemn or religious maybe? I supposed it was a preconception I had brought from good old Earth, but associating gods and spirits with religion was the wrong conclusion in this world. Here, it was ¡­ business. Whether that was better or worse, I couldn¡¯t tell. ¡®Fine. It is what it is,¡¯ I concluded. What else was there to do? I still didn¡¯t have the ability to go anywhere on my own, so I was going to stick with Krissy and see where we¡¯d end up. ¡®Good, good,¡¯ the goddess chirped joyfully. ¡®Are you ready then?¡¯ I could sense Black Essence building up in one of her arms. It was damn time to leave this weird realm behind and I couldn¡¯t wait to reunite with Krissy. ¡®I¡¯m ready, let¡¯s go.¡¯ End of Part Two Chapter Seventy-five Chapter Seventy-five The elven ranger sprinted towards us, slaloming and ducking randomly. He levelled his long spear, aiming for Krissy, no doubt ¡ª it seemed the unfortunate sod had drawn the short straw and ended up doing the frontal assault. Two of his team-mates were lurking behind the trees at the edge of the clearing, but I wasn¡¯t sure where the fourth and fifth members of their team were. It didn¡¯t matter ¡ª if I had learned anything from the dozen or so teams that had had a go at us today, it was their attack patterns. The rest of the team would be coming as soon as their poor decoy-boy engaged us. Ten metres. Eight. Six. Five. The guy with the spear was finally within the agreed range, and I lashed out with two, Mana-gloved tentacles. The blue sheen of Mana was a dead giveaway, and he dodged the first of the buggers ¡ª whether by skill or sheer luck, I wasn¡¯t sure ¡ª and I was about to tap him out of the fight with the second, when a blunted arrow panged off the Mana-Armour enveloping Krissy and Kiwa. Krissy was sitting more or less comfortably in the makeshift wheelchair I had made for her, and Kiwa had been promoted from bodyguard to care worker, or nurse, pushing her around like a true NHS professional. ¡®Damn, where did that come from?¡¯ Krissy shrieked, turning her head around to look for the archer. That arrow had distracted me just enough that my second tentie missed the ranger as well, and I had to employ a third one to tap the guy out. ¡®Over there,¡¯ Kiwa pointed to a couple of trees some fifteen metres from us. Another arrow whooshed forth from that direction and bounced off my Mana-Armour. This time I was looking, and I saw them moving between the trees. A real evil spirit wouldn¡¯t have bothered to protect its possessed host or hosts to this extent because a few arrows wouldn¡¯t have been enough to stop them. The best they could do was to distract the spirit ¡ª in this case, me ¡ª for a short period of time, giving their team-mates a chance to get closer. I quickly tapped the spear-guy on his chest with my third tentacle, Mana shimmering on contact. He made a face, dropped his weapon, and by the time he sat down on the ground, his spear-wielding colleagues were charging us, while the two, hidden archers kept peppering us with the blunt sticks. I wasn¡¯t impressed. They had mistimed their assault; they should have gone on the attack before I had ¡°killed¡± their decoy. Honestly, I wasn¡¯t even sure why we were doing single-team exercises. Three or four teams working together would have been rather difficult to fend off, but a single team? I didn¡¯t see how they could ever neutralise Krissy, playing the possessed host. In a wheelchair. Maybe Fenar and Sivaren Rols had decided to show their men the futility of attacking the invisible beasts with just one team, and tomorrow they¡¯d up their game and send at least three teams to test themselves against me. ¡®Drink him!¡¯ Mr Instinct cried, trying to push me to gobble up the sitting ranger¡¯s soul. He should have known better by now. ¡®We¡¯re not doing that, Hank!¡¯ I yelled at him. ¡®And you mean ¡°eat him¡±, not ¡°drink him¡±.¡¯ Absolutely no eating or drinking people! Krissy thought-yelled at him, too. And ¡­ Hank? You named him Hank? ¡®Yeah. He¡¯s a hungry gank, so ¡°H¡± for hungry, ¡°ank¡± for gank, and now he¡¯s Hank.¡¯ I explained, suddenly not so confident in the name I had bestowed upon the unwanted companion I shared my invisible body with. It¡¯s not a bad name. Tilry stated, and Kiwa nodded in support. It was heartwarming to know I had such supportive companions. And that I had found good use for orkish swear words. ¡®Fuk yu! You all suck.¡¯ Hank lamented our cold and heartless refusal to let him feed on the souls of the rangers. Then he added, ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ At least he seemed to like the name. The archers didn¡¯t let up the barrage of arrows, changing positions quickly at the edge of the clearing, and the other two spear-guys were going to arrive in range in a few seconds. I prepared to intercept them with my tentacles without paying much attention ¡ª my mind was suddenly elsewhere. I had returned from the Spirit World only two days ago, so not a long time, really. But Hank had, for the lack of a better word, evolved considerably since then. His vocabulary had not only increased, but he was using words correctly, apart from a few verbal mishaps here and there. He had also become better at understanding contexts, some concepts, and frankly, he had become ruder as well. The way we had left things, I was sure he wouldn¡¯t be able to keep eating my soul, not unless I let him, so I guessed he was listening and learning, using what he had already taken from me to facilitate his own mental advancements. And he was advancing, there was no doubt about that. That was the reason I had connected not only Krissy, but Kiwa and Tilry to my comm node as well, so they could hear the critter and confirm my suspicions. The two rangers were coming fast, and I tapped them out the moment they were in the agreed upon five metre range. I might have been a bit careless and applied more force than I had wanted to, for they both groaned in pain as they dropped their spears and fell to the ground, cursing under their breaths, looking at my host sitting in a chair with small, wagon-type wheels attached to it. Not my best work, but then again, I wasn¡¯t a wheelwright or a carpenter, and Krissy wasn¡¯t complaining, not yet anyway. The two archers signalled that they were giving up ¡ª there wasn¡¯t much they could do by themselves ¡ª and Hank of course tried his luck again. I was sure he knew I wasn¡¯t going to eat anyone here, and he still tried. What was it Einstein had famously said? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results? It seemed Hank was a long way from becoming a genius. This new friend of yours is annoying. Krissy commented, fidgeting in her chair. He ¡­ I mean Hank, makes me uncomfortable. More than you. Tilry said to me, joining the conversation, which had become a more frequent occurrence since I¡¯d returned from the Spirit World. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. She was finding her voice it seemed, and to my delight, Kiwa was encouraging her to speak up even if she didn¡¯t have anything urgent or world-shattering to share. It was working out nicely. ¡®Yeah, well, we¡¯re stuck with him. It¡¯s all under control.¡¯ I assured the four-armed familiar hovering over her host¡¯s shoulders. ¡®Control. Hah! Weeping.¡¯ Hank grumbled. I was not at all sure what he meant by this. In fact, I wasn¡¯t sure if he himself knew, but as long as talking rubbish was the only thing he did, I could put up with him. The three rangers I had ¡°killed¡± picked themselves up and regrouped with the archers. Master Fenar and his aide rushed out of the woods, followed by some other, high-ranking officers, and began chewing the losing team out with rage-filled enthusiasm. The masters of the rangers had been watching each team getting slaughtered in completely unfair fights, and I was beginning to feel sorry for the grunts. Then again, I supposed that might have been the point: fights against an evil spirit were always going to be unfair, and rangers had to be prepared to give their lives in order to defeat one. ¡®How many more today?¡¯ Kitala Iwani asked, sounding bored. I had no doubt she would have preferred to be an active participant of these mock battles, rather than just pushing Krissy around in a makeshift wheelchair. ¡®Uhm ¡­ this was the ¡­ thirteenth team, so two more,¡¯ Krissy said, sighing. ¡®Teams, teams, no food. This is stupid,¡¯ Hank grumbled. ¡®It is what it is, buddy, just bear with it,¡¯ I told him. Master Fenar¡¯s outbursts of constructive criticism came to an end, the rangers walked away enveloped in an aura of shame and failure, and he waved to us to get ready for the next team. *** Dinnertime was upon us by the time we got back to Fifth Ranger¡¯s compound, and I was more than ready to take possession of the cafeteria¡¯s kitchen. It had been a hard deal to negotiate, but at my behest, Krissy and Kiwa had managed to convince the guys running the place to let us use it after the local trainees¡¯ dinner-rush. We had maybe an hour before I would finally get to return to the one thing I had always considered to be my comfort-zone as a human. And to hopefully impress my companions. Kiwa parked the wheelchair at the door of the barrack we were staying at, and helped Krissy limp to our room. I wasn¡¯t surprised to find Toven and Deni waiting for us in the corridor; we had been told they¡¯d arrived yesterday, and we were all sure they¡¯d drop by soon. Toven was here because he was going to take part in tomorrow¡¯s drills, and then the upcoming expedition. As to why Deni had accompanied her husband, I guessed that she wasn¡¯t going to miss a chance to go around Sek Artem and sell as much Earl Grey as she could. She had proved to be a shrewd businesswoman. What surprised me was the presence of Akela and one of his pups, Loki. Why were they here? And if he was going to take his kids for a trip, then why only Loki? Had he and Misty broken up and his lawyers messed up at court? As intriguing as the thought was, I was sure there was a more reasonable explanation. And I wondered if wolves would eat pancakes. I quickly made two threads to connect to the wolves. I had never spoken to any of the pups, so I was curious if Loki had anything to say, or how he would react to my voice in his little, wolfy head. I reached out with two of my tenties and attached my threads to the appropriate nodes inside their souls ¡ª by now I was able to do the whole process in seconds, and I was done with it before Krissy could even recognise who our visitors were. ¡®Hey buddy!¡¯ I greeted Akela. Voice. Here. Good. He said, wagging his tail and lifting his head, his red eyes almost glowing in the dimly lit corridor. Who? I heard Loki¡¯s rough but child-like thought-voice for the first time. He was turning his head left and right, looking for the source of the voice in his head. The pup had grown since I¡¯d last seen him. What a handsome, young wolf. Voice. Friend. Akela sent the thought, looking at his kid. Loki stopped moving, taken aback by the presence of a second voice, then he looked at his dad. I wasn¡¯t sure how, but it seemed he instinctively knew whose voice it was. My companions had of course heard our little thought-conversation. They stopped, just a couple of metres from a serious looking Tovaron Ento and a grinning Devalet Niraki. I wasn¡¯t sure which of them worried me more. Also, I had to wonder how Toven had managed to get the guards to allow a hellhound and his pup to come in here. Black wolves with red eyes had a bad rep in the world ¡ª most people believed they were creatures of hell whose sole purpose was to serve evil spirits. Either Toven carried some serious clout around here, or said guards didn¡¯t have the balls to stop a hellhound. Either way, Akela was here, and I was happy to see him. ¡®Weird creature,¡¯ Hank commented, sounding rather amused, and I could almost feel his attention snapping to the wolf. ¡®Says the weird creature,¡¯ I retorted. ¡®Hah!¡¯ was all the bugger said, and it seemed he was content to leave it at that. Upon recognition hitting Krissy, she and Deni entangled themselves in a hug, in sharp contrast to the quick exchange of nods between Toven and Kiwa. A short and enthusiastic discussion later, our visitors let Krissy and Kiwa go take a quick bath before heading over to the cafeteria to sit down for an evening of catching up. *** For a former, material creature with four limbs in total, I had become rather good at using ten tentacles at the same time. Well, nine tentacles, since one of them was connecting me to Krissy. Regardless, multitasking was the name of the game, and I was on the road to mastery ¡ª I wasn¡¯t a Level 34 Tentacle Horror for nothing. I wasn¡¯t sure if a physical brain would have been this adaptable, but the part of my soul that had taken over that function had proved to be more than capable of handling things. After all, I was making pancakes in the cafeteria¡¯s kitchen, using all my tentacles, while listening to the discussion at the table on the other side of the counter, and also listening to Akela complaining about the woes of being a husband and father. Pups. Tiring. Mate. Tiring. He wasn¡¯t big on details, but with a little imagination I could picture him worn out after a long day of playing or instructing the kids in the way of wolfhood, and also having to meet any demands Misty might have. And just to prove my imagination right, Loki jumped at his father in a playful attack, growling and biting at him in the most adorable way possible. Loki had grown. Still as cute as a button, but I had no doubt he¡¯d become as large as his dad in a matter of a few more months, if not larger. He kind of looked like a smaller version of Akela already ¡ª black and dark brown fur, orange-y, almost red eyes, and the same, menacing face. I suspected the resemblance would only grow in the future. I fished out a large piece of dried meat from Jack¡¯s Room and tossed it to the pup. It was a suitable distraction, and the kid set about devouring it. Food. Nice food. The pup commented with delight, and Akela let out a mental sigh of relief. In the meantime, I finished making the pancake batter, using the large mixing bowl as well as the flour and eggs I had purchased a few days ago. I took the frying pan and cooking oil from Jack¡¯s Room, put an extra piece of wood on the fire under the stove, and I was ready to make the first batch of pancakes. ¡®So, are you going to stay at ¡­ the house, or are you guys going to settle in a forest?¡¯ I directed my thoughts at Akela quietly, so as to not disturb the conversation Krissy and Kiwa were having at the table. Pups. Hunting. Mate. Hunting. The wolf stated, his thoughts sounding determined, but his ears and tail were drooping. ¡®Are you ready to give up all the free food and Toven¡¯s lovely little garden?¡¯ I asked, having an inkling what the answer would be. Akela let out an audible whine and hung his head. Yeah. ¡®Well, it sounds like you don¡¯t have a choice.¡¯ No. Said the most perfect image of a sad, sad wolf. ¡®Kevin, is dinner ready yet?¡¯ Krissy yelled to me from the table on the other side of the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area. They were on the second round of Earl Grey already, waiting eagerly for the fancy food I had promised would go well with the tea. ¡®Ten minutes.¡¯ I replied as I took the first pancake out of the pan, using a couple of Mana-gloved tentacles instead of a spatula. Chapter Seventy-six Chapter Seventy-six ¡®¡­ fifty or so teams are still out there patrolling the coastline, but it looks like the barbarians had left. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been told.¡¯ Toven finished his report, then stuffed another pancake into his mouth. ¡®How long before the navy and the rangers are ready to pay them a visit?¡¯ Krissy asked, eying the last pancake on the plate, but Kiwa and Deni seemed to have designs on it as well. I concluded ¡°Operation Impress the Elves¡± had been a success, and a second batch of twenty pancakes was in order, as well as more tea. So, I got to it while I listened to the conversation at the table. ¡®Not sure. Two or three weeks I guess,¡¯ Toven said, then took a sip of tea from a standard cup of the cafeteria variety, and I was becoming a little nervous, having second thoughts about my plan to return his favourite mug to him. In retrospect, it might have been a bad idea to nick it, and perhaps it would be best to take the secret to the grave. But, Toven was a good man, and I had managed to hold on to enough decency of character to know that he didn¡¯t deserve to be separated from his prized mug. ¡®Surgeon says I¡¯ll recover by then.¡¯ Krissy looked at the cast on her left arm. Deni reached out and took the last of the pancakes, smiling at Kiwa, who had been too slow to make that decision. ¡®Ten minutes and there will be more,¡¯ I told the self-appointed and crestfallen bodyguard-slash-care-worker. Make it five. She sent a thought. Well, I had now no doubt that pancakes would be popular in Solace. ¡®Do you think I¡¯d be able to cook?¡¯ Tilry inquired. ¡®I can use power, or Mana as you call it, to cover my hands. I can touch things. I could even lift objects.¡¯ That was an unexpected question, not to mention more interesting to me than the speculations flying back and forth between Krissy and Toven about what an elven expedition to the orks¡¯ homeland would entail. ¡®Oh, you¡¯re interested?¡¯ I asked, excitement welling up inside me. But then I thought of the problem she would face if she were to cook. ¡®Well, I¡¯d be happy to show you a few tricks, but ¡­ you kind of have to stick to Kiwa. You don¡¯t have the reach my tentacles have, so she¡¯d have to be standing there in front of the stove.¡¯ This probably wasn¡¯t what she wanted to hear, but unlike her, I could venture quite far from my host. With each of my tentacles about seven and a half metres long, I could grab and use things fifteen metres away from Krissy, if I stretched myself out. I¡¯m willing to give it a try. Once. Kiwa stated, her disinterest evident in her thought-voice. Still, it was nice she was willing to indulge her familiar, and I found it heartwarming that Tilry finally had something she wanted to do of her own accord. I wondered if most, if not all familiars were content to quietly accompany their hosts as invisible power-banks and never doing anything else. ¡®Well, then maybe soon we can try and teach you some cooking.¡¯ I offered. Tilry nodded her ghostly head, a gesture only I could see, and we left it at that, details to be determined later. The first pancake of the second batch was ready, and I held it up with my tentacles. It was perfection. Loki ¡ª who had been lying on the ground on my side of the counter with his father ¡ª looked up at the floating piece of food, his eyes glinting, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and I didn¡¯t have the heart to refuse him. He gobbled it up, fresh and hot, and if I was any judge, he liked it. Unlike his father, who couldn¡¯t even be bothered to look at food if it wasn¡¯t meat. Then it occurred to me: with both Toven and Deni here, who was looking after Misty and the other two pups? But I knew the couple to be more responsible than to leave a wild wolf and her pups unattended. They had probably roped the neighbours, or Tommi, into feeding them while they were away. Or perhaps Misty was already teaching the kids to hunt. In the end, I decided making more pancakes was more important than to raise issues I was in no position to do anything about anyway. I poured some batter into the pan, but then my attention snapped to the conversation at the table. ¡®I hear you¡¯re not coming back here after the expedition,¡¯ Toven said, looking at Krissy. ¡®No. We¡¯re not.¡¯ She confirmed. ¡®Lady Wensah instructed us to go to the Fentys Alliance afterwards. She has business there that ¡­ we will have to attend to.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s not good.¡¯ Deni jumped in on the conversation, agitated all of a sudden. ¡®Our business is just shaping up to be a very good one, and you¡¯re leaving? Are you taking Quenta and Tommi?¡¯ ¡®Uh, no, not really,¡¯ Krissy said, looking around as if to see if anyone would come to her aid in calming Deni down. No-one did, and she said the sensible thing, ¡®Only if they want to come. But I don¡¯t think they will.¡¯ ¡®Well, they can¡¯t go.¡¯ Deni stated with the most serious tone she could muster, but a little calmer. Then she leaned over the table, closer to Krissy, and whispered, ¡®Business aside, Quenta has a lady friend. It looks serious.¡¯ ¡®What?¡¯ Krissy almost jumped up from her seat. ¡®What?¡¯ I almost dropped the frying pan. ¡®Heh.¡¯ Kiwa grinned viciously. Now, this was news worthy of my attention ¡ª I was not above indulging in some gossip at the expense of others, even if it was Kenta. ¡®Who is she? How far have they gone? Any talk of marriage?¡¯ I demanded, and Krissy forwarded my question to the lady in the know, but her husband answered instead. ¡®Ah, it¡¯s that old hag, our neighbour¡¯s mother,¡¯ Toven groaned. ¡®The one who¡¯s feeding the wolves that shouldn¡¯t be in my garden in the first pla¡­¡¯ ¡®Well, she is old, almost four-hundred, but she is a well-respected woman from what I hear,¡¯ Deni talked over her husband. ¡®She isn¡¯t terribly healthy, but she has another hundred years in her, I¡¯m sure.¡¯ Huh! A four-hundred-year-old elven woman? That meant she could probably compete against the fittest and prettiest of human women in their forties, and win. Kenta, you lucky bastard! I step out for a week or two and you end up bagging an elf just like that? Damn, it was something I couldn¡¯t do even if I wanted to. Being a spirit was such an unfair thing. Well, I had my pancakes, and I kept on making them as I listened. ¡®They met when she was visiting his son, who¡¯s our neighbour, and Quenta was helping me make a new box for our tea at our place,¡¯ Deni explained, and it was clear she was in her element talking about such things. ¡®Haraven Niala then popped in to say hello. That¡¯s how they met, and the rest, as they say, is history.¡¯ ¡®Haraven Niala. Hm. Hani. As in ¡­ Honey? Really?¡¯ I mused. ¡®What does her son, your neighbour, think of all this?¡¯ Krissy asked, thoroughly entertained by the look of it. ¡®I don¡¯t think he knows,¡¯ Deni whispered conspiratorially, as if the above-mentioned son was eavesdropping from the shadows somehow. ¡®He¡¯s kind of dense.¡¯ ¡®Like most men,¡¯ Krissy commented, grinning. ¡®Yeah? And what kind of experience do you have with men to make such a bold claim?¡¯ I asked, offended on behalf of all men, spirit or material. Before she could defend her position on this matter, Toven put his mug down and changed the topic. ¡®Alright, enough of the gossip,¡¯ he said, looking at his wife then at Krissy. ¡®So, what is this business your god has in the Fentys Alliance?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ not sure if I can tell you, sorry,¡¯ Krissy said, shaking her head, looking not even the least bit apologetic. ¡®Fine. Gods do whatever it is they do,¡¯ he said, shrugging, then turned to Kiwa. ¡®Fayr-Sitan shares a border with the Alliance. Will you be going home?¡¯ ¡®Home? I¡¯ve got no home to go back to,¡¯ she said, sneering. ¡®Oh? How so?¡¯ Deni inquired, intrigued by the new gossip, forgetting the old. ¡®I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡¯ Kiwa said, shaking her head. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Toven and Deni simply accepted it, nodding, and I thought it would be the end of this line of inquiry. ¡®She is a wanted criminal in Fayr Sitan,¡¯ Tilry chimed in out of the blue, sounding excited for some reason. No, I¡¯m not! Kiwa protested immediately, using the voice-chat, her head snapping upward where she probably imagined her invisible familiar would be, then glancing at Toven and Deni. She looked worried for a moment, then she sighed, probably remembering that Toven and Deni weren¡¯t connected to our spirit-walkie-talkie-network. ¡®But ¡­ I remember some people saying you were,¡¯ Tilry argued. She really was finding her voice, wasn¡¯t she? And she was pissing off her host. This was turning into a proper gossip-night. Now listen here you invisible menace! I¡¯m not a criminal, and it¡¯s my fucking choice to not go back there. Got it? Kiwa thought-screamed at the spirit, her face a mask of anger. Then she added. Forget cooking. ¡®I think you need some more practice, or instruction on how to join in a conversation.¡¯ I remarked, tapping Tilry¡¯s back gently with a tentacle, just to show some support, risking a panicked reaction from her ¡ª I was still a Tentacle Horror after all. Instead of panicking, all four of Tilry¡¯s spirit-shoulders sagged and she sighed in defeat. Whatever the story was here, it was clearly a sore point for Kiwa. It made me curious, but Krissy beat me to it. Why don¡¯t you want to go back to you home country? She asked through my voice-chat. It¡¯s ¡­ political. Was all Kiwa said. Oh, I see. I ¡­ can relate to that. Caught up in a power struggle? Of course she could relate; the tragic story of her family¡¯s demise was a story of politics, which essentially meant that one man, or perhaps a group, had wanted all the power, and wasn¡¯t above silencing the opposition by any means necessary. Politics sucked. Unfortunately, Kiwa didn¡¯t leave it at that and answered Krissy¡¯s question. No, it just turned out the Fayrguard doesn¡¯t like it when you beat their members to a pulp. And they started it, not me. How is that political? Krissy inquired, her expression changing from commiserating to annoyed. They would have let me off had it been anyone else except those bastards. So, political. The reply came. Which meant Kiwa¡¯s run in with the art of power-grabs ¡ª also known as politics ¡ª was really just her assaulting what might have been police officers or something of the like. At this point I wasn¡¯t even sure if Kiwa knew what the word ¡°political¡± meant. On second thought, maybe she did. Perhaps this famed home country of the elves was a police-state? I mean, we had contemporary examples of it back on good old Earth, some of those examples too close for comfort. Even with the mild and agreeable demeanour of the majority of elves taken into account, I was sure they¡¯d be capable of establishing near-dictatorships. ¡®Are you all ¡­ doing that spirit-chat-thing?¡¯ Deni asked, looking at Kiwa and Krissy first, then at her husband. ¡®We were,¡¯ Krissy said, then she decided another change of topic was in order. ¡®So, how is our tea business going?¡¯ *** ¡®It is popular. I mean, we had the initial rush for the new tea, just as I thought it would happen. We sold over six hundred boxes, so that¡¯s about thirty-thousand teabags at a minimum. We made ¡­ let¡¯s see ¡­¡¯ Deni started giving her status report, only stopping to crunch some numbers before presenting the results. ¡®¡­ about 9000 Kyns. Minus buying the tea, the civat fruits, the materials for the bags and boxes, paying the people working in the warehouse, paying rent for the warehouse, setting aside some for the taxes ¡­ so we have about 3000 Kyns in profit in less than a month, and that¡¯s not bad at all.¡¯ Deni sounded extremely proud of herself, and rightfully so. If I remembered correctly, the monthly stipend of her husband was about a thousand Kyns or thereabouts, and he wasn¡¯t a rookie grunt. She continued. ¡®It has slowed down now, but sales are still as steady as for any tea company. And that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. I think we can have a similar rush for the new, Grey Tea here in Sek Artem as well. I¡¯ve got samples to hand out, the warehouse is stocked, and I¡¯ve already talked with someone about transport.¡¯ ¡®You ¡­ have a warehouse?¡¯ Krissy asked, picking up on the new detail. ¡®We have a warehouse,¡¯ Deni corrected her with a huge smile on her face, emphasis on the word ¡°we¡±. ¡®But don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not terribly big or expensive. We needed a place to make and store all the boxes and teabags. We can¡¯t do this from home now, can we?¡¯ ¡®Of course not.¡¯ Krissy agreed, looking completely lost. It was obvious she couldn¡¯t even picture the day to day operations of business and production. ¡®How many people?¡¯ She asked. ¡®Well, Quenta and Tommy of course, two others I hired, and ¡­ uh ¡­ Hani.¡¯ ¡®Honey?¡¯ Krissy asked without me having to prompt her. ¡®She has been coming to the warehouse to help for the last week. I think she just wants to spend time with Quenta, and she¡¯s not asking for pay, so it¡¯s all good.¡¯ ¡®Well, if it¡¯s alright with you, then ¡­¡¯ ¡®Listen, Misery ¡­ or would you prefer Krissintha?¡¯ Deni said. ¡®Krissy is fine.¡¯ ¡®Right. Listen, Krissy, and I guess you too, Kevin,¡¯ she said, looking over the counter where the frying pan and other mysteriously moving objects betrayed my presence. ¡®This is your business as well as mine. You had the idea, you helped work out the product, and I set it up. So if you have any objections to how I¡¯m handling things, you should tell me before you leave Solace.¡¯ ¡®Okay, I ¡­ will. But I don¡¯t really have any,¡¯ Krissy said with a lot less confidence I was used to hearing in her voice. In all fairness, I didn¡¯t really have anything to say about the matter either. Since I¡¯d been spending all my time with Krissy, my knowledge and understanding of how Deni had been building up and running the business had some pretty large holes. But we did trust her, plus Kenta and Tommi were there, too, so I was sure we could leave everything to her. ¡®Good,¡¯ Deni said, apparently satisfied with Krissy¡¯s answer. ¡®Now, this pancake thing. I like it. It¡¯s simple, it¡¯s not sweet, and it would go well with tea and marmalade. So ¡­ would Kevin mind sharing the recipe for it? And perhaps some others if he has more? I think we could serve this in a tea-house if we opened one,¡¯ she said, grinning and rubbing her hands like an over-the-top villianess from an old TV show. And she had come prepared. The moment I agreed to share my limited knowledge about desserts and pastries, she pulled a piece of paper and something that resembled a thin, charcoal stick, and Krissy had to write down the recipes for pancakes, cupcakes, muffins, scones, and even croissants. Deni looked it over when we were done, made a comment about reducing the sugar content to make them less sweet, then she prattled on about her big plans for expanding the business by the end of summer. Well, summer was about to begin, and seasons were a little longer here than back on Earth, so if she was really serious about this, her and her warehouse-gang were in for a busy four or five months. It was Toven who finally stopped her starry-eyed presentation about the bright future waiting for everyone involved. ¡®Alright, alright, we¡¯ve heard enough, darling,¡¯ he said to her as gently as he could, but he still received a deathly glare from his wife. Then he turned to Krissy and Kiwa. ¡®Do you know how long will it take to conclude whatever errand your god is sending you on? Actually, are you even planning to come back?¡¯ ¡®Oh, will you miss us?¡¯ Krissy teased. ¡®Of course I will miss you,¡¯ Deni said, almost pouting. ¡®I know Solace isn¡¯t your home,¡¯ Toven said, ignoring the teasing as well as his wife¡¯s outburst. ¡®But have you considered making it your home?¡¯ ¡®I have,¡¯ Krissy answered without hesitation. I was a little surprised by both the question and the quick answer, and I had a suspicion as to where this sudden ¡ª or maybe not so sudden ¡ª topic was coming from. ¡®And?¡¯ Toven pressed it. ¡®Did Master Fenar put you up to this? Can¡¯t he just ask me himself?¡¯ Krissy replied with questions of her own. ¡®Well, not really,¡¯ Toven said with a theatrical sigh. ¡®You know how the old man is. And it wasn¡¯t even him, it was the councilwoman.¡¯ ¡®What? His wife?¡¯ Krissy¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡®Uh-huh. I believe she¡¯d like to ¡­ uh, how should I say it ¡­¡¯ ¡®To try to tie me down here in Solace?¡¯ she offered. ¡®I mean, ¡°tying down¡± is an exaggeration, but something along those lines,¡¯ Toven said, shrugging as if none of this was of any importance. ¡®News of your exploits on that ork ship are spreading, you know. Hell, the word ¡°ork¡± is spreading, thanks to you. Most people don¡¯t know who Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain is, but more and more people are hearing about Misery the Ork-Slayer, or Misery the Ruthless. Oh, and these are compliments, not insults.¡¯ ¡®Uh-huh,¡¯ Krissy nodded, clearly not convinced by that last statement. ¡®So why couldn¡¯t Councilwoman Komi come and talk to me? I thought she liked me.¡¯ ¡®She¡¯s busy,¡¯ Toven said, and didn¡¯t elaborate. Yeah, I could imagine she was. So could Krissy ¡ª I assumed that¡¯s why she just nodded without commenting. I could imagine Krissy settling here, to be honest. We both liked Solace and the elves, there was no doubt about that, and I could absolutely see her becoming a tea-tycoon doing a little bit of supplementary rangering on the side. She wouldn¡¯t have a problem making a living here. But unlike me, who had no plans besides figuring out how to become a grand spirit and divorce myself from Wensah, Krissy had long-term plans. Vague, hazy plans, sure, but I remembered her saying something about returning to her home country, Thyssa, to look for her brother who might still be alive, and to overthrow the government while she was at it. The last thing I wanted was to stand in the way of her plans. As much as I liked the elves, I didn¡¯t have to be here. All I needed was to eat more, grow more and learn more. I could do that anywhere. ¡®Look, most of us in Third and Fifth Rangers would be happy to have you,¡¯ Toven said, and before Deni could start protesting, he added, ¡®And of course as a founding member of this tea-business you girls are doing, I don¡¯t think you¡¯d ever need to worry about money.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s tempting, and I will think it over. But for the moment we¡¯ll need to do what Lady Wensah wants us to do,¡¯ Krissy said, and I guessed it was the exact answer Toven had expected, as he simply nodded and left it at that. I sensed that the evening was coming to an end ¡ª everyone seemed to have run out of things to say, gossip to share, and the last four pancakes of the second batch had no takers. And I was in a predicament. One part of me was adamant that in the name of self-preservation I should hold onto Toven¡¯s mug forever. It was safe in Jack¡¯s Room, no-one would ever know it was there. Another part of me, however, insisted that I should do the right thing, for once, and return it. That mug! It had somehow, in my mind, had transformed into a sacred relic over which two factions of Kevin were waging a war. I sighed, and I decided I had done enough horrible things for the time being, and the mug had to be returned, consequences be damned. ¡®Okay, I¡¯m doing it,¡¯ I whispered. Doing what exac¡­ Krissy sent a half-formed thought my way, then her eyes snapped to the mug as it appeared on the table. A second later her attention shifted to Toven. Shit. The elven ranger¡¯s face went blank as soon as he noticed his mug. He stared at it for long moments. I was sure the entire spectrum of existing emotions went through his mind during that time, but his expression remained indecipherable. Where was the joy? The anger? The accusation? I would have expected more of a reaction from him. No-one said a word, we were all just looking at him. Krissy looked worried. Deni looked worried. Kiwa looked disinterested. Finally, Toven moved. He slowly reached out for the mug, pulled it to himself to cradle it in his hands as if it was as fragile as an egg, but looking at it as if it was made of solid gold. He kept his eyes on the thing for a few more moments, then he lifted his head and turned to look at me first ¡ª somehow he seemed to know exactly where my invisible body was ¡ªthen at Krissy. I had no doubt he had finished piecing this puzzle together, and while the overall expression on his face didn¡¯t change at all, his voice sent a chill down my tentacles as he spoke. ¡®You know, I¡¯m leading the first team against you tomorrow.¡¯ Chapter Seventy-seven Chapter Seventy-seven Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain didn¡¯t have a reason to complain, if she was honest, so she only grumbled to herself, making sure none of her thoughts were accidentally leaking out into Kevin¡¯s voice-chat ability. Complaining was a lady¡¯s prerogative, so she could afford to find, or failing that, make up reasons to do so. For instance, the ridiculous wheeled chair Kevin had cobbled together for her, using the same mysterious spiritual techniques he had when making the ill-fated Island Queen nearly a year ago. It wasn¡¯t even the chair itself that bothered her; it was being confined to it for large parts of the day. She knew she should have been happy and grateful that her injuries weren¡¯t too serious, or that she was alive in the first place, because it could have been so much worse. But why was healing taking so long? A broken arm? A twisted ankle? She¡¯d never had such infuriatingly limiting injuries, and she wasn¡¯t even sure if she could count the scuffs and scratches of her childhood as injuries at all. Then there was Kevin. Life had been dangerous for Krissintha ever since the usurper took over Thyssa, and meeting the spirit had added an element of strangeness and wonder to it. She was somewhat amused that what bothered her about the spirit weren¡¯t things like him getting drunk, almost eating a dog, or the wholesale slaughter he was capable of committing. Instead, it was his ability and occasional willingness to leave her behind. Sure, he was an evil spirit ¡ª strictly speaking ¡ª but he was also her familiar, and familiars did not leave their hosts. At all. Only in death. Kevin was both fickle and reliable at the same time, she concluded. She glanced up at Kitala Iwani, pushing her ¡°wheelchair¡±. She liked the elven woman. She was a warrior through and through, always ready for a fight, and so far loyal in her recent allegiance to Wensah, to the Bureau ¡ª which was still to be established ¡ª and to her. But why was she so straightforward, almost to the point of being ¡­ simple? And why was she so outstandingly gorgeous, even among the elves? And why was she so oblivious about it? Was this ¡­ jealousy she felt? Surely not. The forest path came to an end, and Kiwa pushed her out to the clearing, the location of today¡¯s exercise. It might have been the same place as before, Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure ¡ª she hadn¡¯t paid all that much attention to the surroundings yesterday, despite Toven and other instructors at Third Rangers trying to hammer such things into her for the past half a year. Oh. Toven. He was pissed at them, wasn¡¯t he? The icy tone of his last words before parting ways yesterday was a promise. Of what, she could only guess, but she was sure it wasn¡¯t anything good. Setting aside the how and why of the strange relationship between him and his prized mug, she agreed with Kevin that keeping them apart would have been the wrong thing to do. Normally the consequences of doing the right thing should be taken into account, but for some reason Kevin had decided consequences be damned, and now they just had to put up with whatever revenge Toven was going to enact, probably very soon. So much for being ¡°nice and agreeable¡±. She wasn¡¯t worried about Toven hurting anyone ¡ª with Kevin around, he couldn¡¯t even if he tried. Which he wouldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t that kind of person. Now that she thought about it, most elves weren¡¯t that kind of persons. Elves were nice and agreeable, mild-mannered and peaceful. Their cities were safe, crime and poverty absent, and verbal confrontations were the furthest most of them were willing to take things. She had come to realise it took a special kind of elf to become a ranger or a marine. Unlike humans or orks, violence just wasn¡¯t a part of the elven mindset. During her time in Solace she had gradually come to understand the thoroughness with which instructors slowly but surely transformed meek trainees into rangers who were willing and able to take up a weapon and kill. ¡°Knowing how to wield a weapon is the least important of the skills you can have. Your mind, your body, your attitudes, discipline, habits and determination are the things that will make you a decent fighter.¡± Master Fenar¡¯s words echoed in her mind, and they made more sense than ever. But that wouldn¡¯t help now. Toven was going to lead the first assault, and it was up to Kevin to deal with it. ¡®Are you nervous?¡¯ she asked the spirit. Well, let¡¯s just say I¡¯m regretting some recent choices. The reply came. ¡®Hm. What do you think he¡¯ll do?¡¯ Not sure. I guess he¡¯ll throw everything he has at us. I overheard some rangers. Three or more teams together will be the norm for today. And Toven will have the first crack at us. ¡®That¡¯s twelve rangers minimum. You have nine tentacles you can use, correct? Out of ten?¡¯ she asked. Correct. Three teams will be difficult to fend off, especially with the five metres ¡­ sorry, about eight paces set range. Or is it nine paces? ¡®Nine-ish, I think,¡¯ Krissintha nodded. It made sense ¡ª based on the elves¡¯ previous experiences, ¡°five metres¡± was the average reach of an evil spirit. Unless of course you were a Tentacle Horror like Kevin, but that wasn¡¯t something she wanted to think about too much. Well, all I can do is my best, so let¡¯s not worry yet. Kevin said, his thought-voice nervous like a peasant¡¯s right before his first ¡ª and probably last ¡ª audience with his lord. *** Krissintha looked around for the tenth time, scanning the treeline. Nothing. Not a single ranger in sight, not in the small bushes popping up all over the clearing, not in the woods, not anywhere else. She began to wonder if they were at the right place ¡ª one clearing looked as another to her, despite having taken a few classes about trekking and navigation. ¡®Why haven¡¯t we started yet?¡¯ she whispered. ¡®Are we even at the right place?¡¯ ¡®We are,¡¯ Kiwa whispered back to her from behind the wheelchair. ¡®Maybe the rangers got lost?¡¯ I doubt that. Kevin chimed in. ¡®Rangers don¡¯t get lost.¡¯ Krissintha agreed. ¡®Where are they then?¡¯ She demanded, still looking around, still thinking to herself that either they were at the wrong place, or at the wrong time, or maybe Fenar had canceled the whole exercise and neglected to mention it to her. ¡®We¡¯ve been here for almost an hour. Kevin, you can see souls, right? Anything?¡¯ I can¡¯t see through trees. If they¡¯re hiding behind solid objects I won¡¯t see them. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡®Tilry?¡¯ Krissintha tried her luck with her bodyguard¡¯s familiar. I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t see anyone. The spirit replied. Krissintha sighed. This was becoming uncomfortable, and not just physically. Where the hell was everybody? Was not showing up and making her wait for hours Toven¡¯s idea of revenge for his stolen mug? No, that didn¡¯t make sense ¡ª this was an official ranger exercise, and even Toven couldn¡¯t just go against his orders, could he? They must have been around somewhere, sneaking and waiting ¡ª something rangers were good at. An ambush then. They were waiting in ambush. That was the only explanation. ¡®They must be around here,¡¯ Krissintha stated. She heard Kiwa taking a breath, probably wanting to say something, but the sound of rustling grass interrupted the hushed conversation, coming from not too far. She looked to the side. A hog, at the edge of the clearing, rushing out from the woods thirty or so paces away. That¡¯s ¡­ not a ranger. Kevin commented. ¡®Really? How did you deduce that?¡¯ Krissintha sneered, annoyed. Kiwa chuckled. Oi, no need to be an ass. Kevin complained. The hog noticed them immediately ¡ª it slid to a halt and stared at them, then turned its head to look back at the forest from which it had emerged. Krissintha had never had the need or the chance to learn about the behaviour of wild animals ¡ª her father used to have hunters in his employ, and even if she had wanted to tag along one of them, they wouldn¡¯t have let her. Still, she was sure that the animal was confused. It was looking back and forth between the forest and them, as if both options were bad ones, trying to figure out which of them was the lesser evil. In the end, the animal decided on a third course of action, slowly walking away both from the trees and her. ¡®They¡¯re there. Behind the trees.¡¯ Krissintha came to the conclusion. You sure? Kevin asked. She wasn¡¯t sure if the hog had just happened to be there, or its appearance was deliberate bait or distraction the rangers had arranged, but she was sure they were there. ¡®Yeah,¡¯ she said. So, what do we do? Kevin inquired. ¡®Well, this is an anti-evil-spirit-exercise, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re the evil spirit here, so you tell me,¡¯ she said. Kevin didn¡¯t reply immediately, and she was about to say something else, when the spirit said, Hey, Hank! I¡¯m Hank. The other evil spirit said, sounding excited about his new name. We know. Kevin said, his thought-voice flat. Don¡¯t you dare go full Groot on us, you hear me? I¡¯m Hank! Hank repeated the declaration. Listen, you¡¯re the actual evil spirit here. See the hog? What would you do? Kevin asked it ¡­ him. Probably him. Krissintha sighed. How had she ended up with not one but two spirits of the semi-evil variety? Fate? Luck? Misfortune? Something else? Eat, eat, eat. Let¡¯s go eat it! Hank shrieked excitedly. Hank had only been a fact of life for a few days, at least for her, but she already knew what the second spirit¡¯s answer would be to most questions. Well, you heard our resident expert on evil-spirit-affairs. Kevin said. ¡®Boss!¡¯ Kiwa whispered, stretching her arm over Krissintha¡¯s shoulder, pointing at the forest where the hog had appeared moments ago. ¡®Movement. They¡¯re there.¡¯ Krissintha snapped her head in that direction, and just about caught the sight of something moving. She couldn¡¯t really tell what it was, but if an elf with her superior eyesight said they were there, then they were there. And that settled it. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s go have a look then.¡¯ She gave the order. Kiwa began to push the wheelchair forward, bumping towards the trees, going around the small bushes and mounds littering the clearing. Krissintha watched the hog run off, still wondering if it was a deliberate distraction arranged by the rangers. They made it to the trees in about a minute ¡ª pushing a wheelchair in the tall grass was at least as slow a way to move as the twisted shambling of a possessed host, so it was a somewhat realistic imitation of the speed with which an evil spirit could move. Kevin¡¯s power flashed blue for a split second as three arrows hit it at the same time. Then another flash, another three arrows falling to the ground harmlessly, all before she could even blink in surprise. Kiwa swore like a drunk coachman, pointing at the crowns of the trees. Another three arrows hit the wall of Mana protecting them, and this time Krissintha saw where they had come from. The archers were up on the branches, way higher that the nine paces Kevin was limited to. ¡®They¡¯re up there!¡¯ she yelled, gripping the armrest of the wheelchair with one hand, pointing up at the trees with the other. Can¡¯t reach them! Kevin wailed, just as a third volley of arrows hit the Mana Armour covering them. Shit! Behind us! Before either Krissintha or Kiwa could even turn their heads to look, the body of a ranger flew past them, the blade of his blunted sword missing Krissintha¡¯s neck by an inch. The man tumbled on the ground, a momentary flash of blue power the evidence that it was Kevin who had fended off the attack. Krissintha only had a second to comprehend how strange the ranger looked ¡ª like a bush, actually, covered in twigs and leaves, so much so that if his head and arms weren¡¯t sticking out of the unusual costume, she wouldn¡¯t have known it was an elf. I got that one! Oh shit, there¡¯s more! Kevin screamed, his panicked thought-voice filling Krissintha¡¯s mind. Then it was all a blur, lasting another two or three seconds. Arrows bouncing off Kevin¡¯s power-wall, the nearest of the bushes standing up and sprinting to her, four or five at least, blades and spear tips swinging and chipping off blue power as they hit them, then the disguised rangers retreating faster than a rabbit fleeing a bunch of hounds. ¡®We¡¯re dead, aren¡¯t we?¡¯ Kiwa said, completely calm. Unlike Krissintha, who was panting frantically despite not having done anything except trying to come to grips with what just happened. Uhm, well, yeah. Kevin admitted, clearly not happy. Krissy, you basically got chopped into pieces, and I am now immobile. Man, these guys are fast. I only got one of them. Krissintha slowed her breathing and looked around, counting the weird half-bush-half-elf creatures surrounding them, standing at a safe distance, watching them. Five of them. Then four archers appeared among the trees and walked to their leafy comrades, their eyes on Krissintha, their bows ready to loose more arrows. At least the archers looked like rangers, wearing their dark green capes instead of piles of the local plant life. Krissintha squinted at one of the living bushes; it had Toven¡¯s head poking out of it, his branch-covered hood removed. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ she whispered. Ghilli-suits. Kevin said. Clever. ¡®You know what this is?¡¯ Well, yeah. I mean they¡¯re called that where I come from, I don¡¯t know what the elves call them. Back home hunters and certain types of soldiers use them to get close to their targets unnoticed. It works like a charm. ¡®I see,¡¯ Krissintha said, looking at the grin on Toven¡¯s face. All she¡¯d seen were bushes and grassy bumps in the ground. To think some of them were rangers, waiting for them ¡­ yeah, it had worked like a charm. Damn. ¡®So?¡¯ Toven suddenly asked. ¡®You got us,¡¯ Krissintha replied with a lot more venom in her voice than she¡¯d intended or actually felt¡ª it was just an exercise, one for the rangers¡¯ benefit. ¡®One immobile evil spirit right here.¡¯ The guy Kevin had managed to tap-out of the fight got up and trudged over to his fellows, who began to congratulate each other on a job well done. Master Fenar and his retinue walked out of the woods, almost right where the archers had before, and joined the men and women in their discussion, instantly crushing their high spirits, and that made Krissintha smile. ¡®Well, this was interesting,¡¯ Kiwa said, letting go of the handles on the wheelchair¡¯s back, stepping forward, keeping her eyes on the closest of the vaguely elf-shaped, moving bushes. ¡®I¡¯ve heard of these disguises, never seen anyone use them.¡¯ Can we go eat now? Hank asked. Krissintha looked around, hoping Kevin¡¯s weird brother was thinking about that hog and not the rangers. If that hog comes around again, we¡¯ll get it. Kevin answered before she could, and that was fine with her. ¡®Are you ready for the next round?¡¯ Fenar yelled to Krissintha. She sighed and nodded. This was going to be a long and uncomfortable few days. Chapter Seventy-eight Chapter Seventy-eight Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain had given up hope. There was nothing she could do against the onslaught of team after team. Not that she was supposed to, that was Kevin¡¯s job, but her familiar was simply overwhelmed by the stealth, speed and numbers of the rangers. Sure, he was managing to fend off a few of them here and there, tapping them out of the fight, but he was unable to claim any of them as hosts, and each practice-assault ended the same way: Krissintha dead, Kevin immobilised, rangers victorious. The elves were truly getting the hang of fighting an evil spirit. Judging by her frequent sighs, Kiwa never had any hope to give up to begin with, and even Tilry¡¯s occasional comments had stopped after the second day of the exercise. After that, it was just plain boring, sitting all day in the stupid wheelchair, watching elves whooshing past, listening to Kevin swearing, and hoping his Mana Armour wouldn¡¯t fail ¡ª getting hit by a blunt arrow or a wooden sword by accident was not something she wanted to experience. Luckily, their long string of losses came to an end when the last of the participating teams claimed the win ¡ª as she had expected ¡ª and the four-day exercise was finally over. Despite having done nothing but sitting, Krissintha couldn¡¯t recall the last time she¡¯d been this tired and apathetic. A full day of rest was in order, and she was more than happy that Fenar had excluded her and her weird little team from the after-exercise meeting. She was less happy that her presence was requested for another meeting the day after, but after giving it some thought, she decided that it was probably going to be better than what she had had to endure for the past four days. At the very least it would be a more comfortable affair overall, and she was sure there¡¯d be plenty of tea and snacks, and that tilted the scale in favour of attendance. Krissintha had never been a tea drinker ¡ª for those in Thyssa who could afford it, freshly squeezed fruit juice used to be the beverage of choice, and she wondered if that was still the case back home. She blamed the elves as well as Kevin ¡ª but mostly just Kevin ¡ª for instilling this new preference for tea in her. Oh well, it wasn¡¯t the end of the world, was it? Tea wasn¡¯t bad, and it had turned out to be a good business as well. Then she silently lamented that even though she was a part of said business, she really wasn¡¯t. Perhaps she should get more involved in it, but she wasn¡¯t sure how, and it had to wait anyway. She had some more resting to do before that meeting. *** Krissintha felt refreshed as she woke up the next morning, ready to face the meeting that was to take place. The cast on her left arm was an annoyance, but her twisted ankle was improving, almost to the point she felt tempted to try walking without her crutch. Unfortunately, she wasn¡¯t quite there yet, so after a bath, breakfast and some awkward limping later, she and her self-appointed bodyguard arrived at the meeting room in the administrative building of Fifth Rangers¡¯ compound. It was the same meeting room as before, and just like last time, everyone who mattered was here: the masters of Third and Fifth Rangers, the five members of the defense committee, including Councilwoman Komi and her young and irritating arch-nemesis, Krisoret Itani ¡ªalso known as Fake Krisi ¡ª sitting around a table, ready to start discussing important things. There were two more elves there, sitting in the illustrious company, but Krissintha didn¡¯t recognise them. They offered her and Kiwa seats at the table, on which a large map lay spread out. They took the chairs, and Krissintha looked around again while waiting for the proceedings to begin. Unlike the last time she¡¯d been here, this wasn¡¯t a large, almost public hearing. This was a war council or something similar. After a brief introduction it turned out the older of the two unknown men was the Master of the Fleet, Ketaven Arte, and the slightly younger looking one was a Marine Commandant. Or ¡°the¡± Marine Commandant. His name was Terana Kolt. Krissintha found the man¡¯s title unusual ¡ª elves seemed to prefer to call people ¡°master of¡± whatever they were in charge of, and she wasn¡¯t sure why the marines would have such a continental, human-sounding title for their highest-ranking officer instead. Maybe marines just wanted to stand out in some way? That was plausible, as she was sure they wouldn¡¯t be able to stand out in terms of fighting ability, not with rangers around. The end of pleasantries and the actual start of the meeting pulled Krissintha back from her own, meandering thoughts. She listened carefully as plans were presented and discussed, partly because Master Fenar had succeeded in hammering that kind of discipline into her, and partly because as it turned out the two spiritualists present were quite the important part of the plans. And since that was the case, she was rather annoyed that Kevin didn¡¯t even pretend to pay attention. Kevin! Are you even listening? They¡¯re talking about what we¡¯ll be doing! She sent her complaints to the spirit through the voice-chat. What? Yeah. Of course. He replied with as much conviction as a thief who knew had got caught but still trying to deny being a thief. Kevin! She thought-screeched at him. Uhm, sorry. My mind is elsewhere. Where is more important for your mind to be than here? She demanded. You¡¯ll catch me up later, right? He asked instead of answering. Krissintha sighed almost audibly, sensing that arguing with her familiar about this would be a fruitless effort, and it would distract her from the meeting as well. Why Kevin seemed so inattentive today she couldn¡¯t guess. It was unusual. The spirit had always been observant, watching and listening even when he was quiet, so whatever was on his mind must have been either very important or very stupid. She sighed again and turned her attention back to the meeting. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. *** ¡®Is this really where you want your rangers to land?¡¯ Ketaven Arte put a finger on the map, squinting at Master Fenar. ¡®Isn¡¯t it a bit too far from the town with the docks?¡¯ Krissintha was looking at the map on the table from the top, so it was all upside down to her, but she could more or less decipher why the Master of the Fleet seemed to disagree with the Master of Third Rangers. The place Master Fenar had chosen was at least twenty miles away from the town home to the only port the orks supposedly had. According to the late Orkuz Graal. ¡®Absolutely. There¡¯s nothing there, so we can land unnoticed. From there we can trek to the town quickly and scout the place,¡¯ Master Fenar said, drawing a circle around the harbour town with his finger. ¡®We¡¯ll split our forces. Twenty or so teams will participate in the assault on the docks and the town, coordinating with your ships and marines through Misery¡¯s familiar. The rest will form a perimeter, preventing messengers leaving to take the news of our arrival to the rest of the ork clan, or failing that, making it difficult for any reinforcements to approach.¡¯ ¡®Alright, that makes sense,¡¯ Ketaven Arte conceded. ¡®What then?¡¯ ¡®We take the harbour, destroy any ships and shipbuilding facilities they have there,¡¯ Fenar explained, then looked at the Commandant. ¡®Once that¡¯s done, your marines will hold the town, and the rangers will move further inland, to ¡­ what was the name of that fucking place?¡¯ ¡®Vraath,¡¯ his wife, Komi, offered the name, scowling at her husband. ¡®The settlement is called Vraath. About six miles inland. That¡¯s where not only the leadership of the Vraathkill clan is located, it¡¯s where they¡¯re likely still keeping our people. According to the ork galley¡¯s captain, most of them will still be there, waiting to be sold as slaves to merchants from other clans.¡¯ The Master of the Fleet let out a sigh. ¡®Are you sure we can trust information coming from a barbarian? Extracted by a god?¡¯ he asked, looking at Komi. ¡®I think we can,¡¯ Komi replied, smiling at the man. ¡®Gods do come in handy every once in a while, and I happen to know this one.¡¯ ¡®Hm,¡¯ Ketaven Arte hummed, considering this, then he looked at the other members of the defense committee. ¡®As a rule, I don¡¯t trust gods or barbarians,¡¯ Krisoret Itani said. Everyone looked at her, and Krissintha immediately expected her to try to undermine Komi¡¯s statements, just like she had been trying to at the last meeting. ¡®But I witnessed the interrogation, and I can say it was thorough, and I have no reason to doubt the results,¡¯ she said, and all the other members of the committee were nodding in agreement. Hearing this from the young councilwoman surprised Krissintha, and by the look of it some others in the room as well. But it seemed to be enough to put both the older fleetmaster¡¯s and the younger marine officer¡¯s mind at ease. Krissintha was a little bit impressed by the woman not pushing her own agendas when the fate of over a hundred of her people were at stake ¡ª an unusual thing for someone in position of power to do, at least among humans. ¡®Very good.¡¯ Ketaven Arte nodded, then looked at Fenar and Sivaren Rols. ¡®What¡¯s your time estimate for liberating our people and bringing them to the ships?¡¯ ¡®I can¡¯t say.¡¯ Fenar shook his head. ¡®There are still a lot of unknowns. I¡¯d say at least a full day and night for scouting that sodding place, and then we¡¯ll need to be quick to plan and to carry out the assault and rescue. I¡¯d like to say two days at most, but ¡­¡¯ ¡®¡­ but when does anything ever go according to plan.¡¯ The Marine Commandant finished the sentence for him. ¡®Exactly.¡¯ Fenar nodded again, a dark look settling on his face. ¡®So, two and a half day if you¡¯re optimistic?¡¯ Levoten Armat, member of the Defense Committee and liaison to the rangers, asked. ¡®If I¡¯m optimistic,¡¯ Fenar said. ¡®And if you¡¯re not?¡¯ the man asked. ¡®We¡¯ll fail and most of us will be killed,¡¯ Fenar said. Almost everyone at the table exhaled sharply. They didn¡¯t like hearing that, and Krissintha wasn¡¯t an exception. Fenar continued before the inevitable protests to his statement could come. ¡®That town, Vraath, is where Sivera¡¯s spiritualists live and control the damned ork clan. Even our prisoners didn¡¯t know how many of them there are, except for the two leaders, the fucking shamans or whatever they¡¯re called. They¡¯re powerful spiritualists, and they¡¯re a problem, even without the clan¡¯s warriors. They also said to expect merchants from other clans to be present, and due to barbarian business negotiations regularly ending in fistfights, we can expect them to be dangerous fighters as well. Not to mention an army of human and elven slaves. It¡¯s not going to be easy, so we¡¯ll be relying heavily on our own spiritualists.¡¯ Fenar explained, nodding his head towards Krissintha and Kiwa. ¡®You have all heard what they can do.¡¯ Everyone looked at Krissintha and Kiwa, but mostly at Krissintha. Toven hadn¡¯t been lying when he said the news of Misery the Ork Slayer had spread, and she felt an unpleasant pressure bearing down on her under the gazes of the elves. ¡®We¡¯ll do our best,¡¯ Krissintha said, managing to sound somewhat confident. ¡®Damn right we will, boss.¡¯ Kiwa agreed, nodding her head enthusiastically. Krissintha wanted to give the woman a disapproving look, but she held herself back. She had seen Kiwa fight, and knew she would gleefully throw herself into the thick of it and probably slaughter any ork foolish enough not to run from her. But two ork shamans, who were the equivalent of monks, paired with powerful familiars? She had a feeling Kevin might be the only one up to the task, which meant she would need to be the one standing before Sivera¡¯s emissaries, if it came to that. It wasn¡¯t a thrilling thought. Kevin, are you listening to this? What do you think? Can we manage that? She asked through the voice-chat. Why wouldn¡¯t we manage it? Kitala Iwani answered instead of the spirit. What do you mean why? This will be the most dangerous thing we¡¯d ever done. Oh? Speak for yourself, boss! Kiwa sent her thoughts, and her mouth was curling up into a grin. Oh? Have you fought ork shamans before? Krissintha inquired. Always a first time for everything, right? Kiwa thought and shrugged. We¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m working on it. Kevin¡¯s thought-voice came, echoing in Krissintha¡¯s mind. We¡¯ll be fine. Krissintha locked eyes with Kiwa, and it seemed she had noticed the uneasiness in the spirit¡¯s tone of thought-voice as well. She wasn¡¯t sure what to make of this. Kevin was usually rather nonchalant about things, especially when it came to fights, which to him meant eating souls. What is up with you today? She asked. Me? Nothing. I¡¯m preparing. Kevin replied, but once again, he didn¡¯t sound like his usual self. Krissintha considered pushing it a little, to try to get some explanation out of her familiar, but she decided it could wait. If in a day or two the spirit was still so preoccupied with whatever he was preoccupied with, she could deal with it then. The meeting wasn¡¯t over yet, and if she was to stay alive for long enough to be able to go to the Fentys Alliance, as Wensah had decreed she would, then she had to pay attention to the plan. Alright, just make sure you¡¯re ready for this. She said to the spirit. Oh, I will be. The reply came, filling Krissintha with a distinct sense of unease. Chapter Seventy-nine Chapter Seventy-nine This whole anti-evil-spirit-exercise had been a horrid affair, but it wasn¡¯t the reason I was distracted, although I wished we had never agreed to doing it. But hindsight was something that always came too late. To be honest, I was more irritated than surprised ¡ª after the first day the elves had really upped their game, and after Toven¡¯s worryingly efficient display I had only been able to get one or two guys from the assaulting teams, three on one occasion, and each assault had ended with rangers grinning into my invisible and non-existent face. I knew elves were faster than humans, but this time they were faster than I¡¯d ever seen them. A few of them I could manage, especially if I saw them coming. But when four or five or more of them popped up from nowhere and rushed us from everywhere ¡ª and their freaking ghilli-suits made sure I didn¡¯t see them coming ¡ª it was near impossible to counter them. These guys were highly efficient, so much so that I thought they¡¯d be the envy of the SAS if they somehow made it to good old Earth. We never stood a chance. Krissy, Kiwa and Tilry had been bored out of their minds throughout, having done basically nothing but being big fat juicy targets for sneaky elves, and we were in near euphoria when the whole thing ended. Luckily, we hadn¡¯t been invited to the after-exercise meetings where I imagined Master Fenar and Master Sivaren Rols were giving a tongue-lashing to the participants and calling it feedback. That was fine with us ¡ª we were eager to rest, especially Krissy, who expressed her desire to never sit in the wheelchair again, and found a new appreciation for crutches. It hurt my pride a little ¡ª I had put quite a bit of effort as well as spiritual ingenuity into making that weelchair ¡ª but I understood. However, they invited us to another meeting the day after, where all the important people sat down to discuss the plans for the upcoming visit to the orks¡¯ homeland, or the Barbarian Lands as they called it. Master Fenar and Sivaren Rolls represented the rangers, which was to be expected, and of course the five council members ¡ª including Fenar¡¯s wife ¡ª were in attendance as well. The man representing the Navy was a new face: Ketaven Arte. His official title was Master of the Fleet, which I supposed was like an admiral or something similar, and there was a chap who was in charge of the marines ¡ª a younger looking guy toting the title: Commandant. I was distracted, and I wasn¡¯t paying much attention to the discussions, plenty of other things on my mind. One thing I had realised during the four-day exercise was this: the elves, or more specifically the rangers, were always preparing, always ready, always looking for ways to make themselves more efficient and formidable. It wasn¡¯t that I was slacking off, but if I was honest ¡ª and I had to be ¡ª I wasn¡¯t as ready as I thought I should have been. We were going to attack the orks in a few weeks, and after that we¡¯d venture into human lands. I had heard Krissy and Kiwa talking about it, I had heard Toven mention a few things about that Alliance place, but the truth was that none of us really knew what we would be walking into, and I wasn¡¯t ready. I had been pondering and tinkering to find out more about Black Essence ¡ª important of course for my long-term plans, but almost irrelevant to the now. So, resuming the work on my Compressed-Essence-Armoured-Stealth-Suit-Gundam suddenly became priority. I wanted to be able to properly disguise and protect myself, as well as protect Krissy¡¯s soul from possible attacks by other spirits. Unfortunately, not only I had not expended my Spirit Room, but it had shrunk during our reconstruction project while I¡¯d been in the Spirit World. Without it I wasn¡¯t going to be able to store parts for the project, let alone the finished product or products. That was something to work on, and as I considered all this, my mind kept drifting to Hank. I had promised him I wouldn¡¯t start expanding different organs in my ¡ª our ¡ª spiritual body willy-nilly, on account of it being detrimental at best, borderline suicidal at worst. I had my reservations about the fast evolving tentacled menace on whom Wensah had grafted my soul, but I was increasingly convinced he could be of help. After all, he was the OG Tentacle Horror, a proper evil spirit who had gained intelligence, or sentience, or something, by nibbling on my soul and incorporating a small chunk of it into himself. And on that note, I had to remind myself again to come up with a better word than ¡°evil spirit¡±. The kind of spirits it referred to weren¡¯t evil, not in the traditional sense, and I felt like using the word was sort of cheapening it, robbing it of its intended meaning. I mean, in the unlikely event of coming across something truly evil, what word would I use to describe it if ¡°evil¡± had been hijacked and given a different meaning? Bad? Naughty? Unruly? No. I had to stop using the word ¡°evil¡± in this context. I was thinking ¡°animalistic¡± or ¡°predatory¡± spirits. Or simply ¡°wild spirits¡±, because that¡¯s what they were, and I made a conscious decision to start calling them that. Regardless of what I would call them in the future, Hank wasn¡¯t one of them anymore. And he had one thing I did not: the inborn instincts, intuition and knowledge of how our spiritual body worked and what we could or couldn¡¯t do with it. His presence in my life was a non-negotiable fact whether I liked it or not, so I might as well take advantage of it. But I needed some peace and quiet for that, and I didn¡¯t think Krissy would have appreciated a separate conversation echoing in her head while trying to listen to the people in the meeting. Because, unlike me, Krissy was listening intently. The little teacher¡¯s pet. Either she found the meeting refreshing after the exercise, or perhaps she was expecting Fenar to do a little pop-quiz at the end. I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if that happened, actually. But it was a good thing: despite not paying attention, I heard our names coming up a few times during the meeting, but I knew I could count on Krissy to be able to fill me in on the details of what our involvement in the upcoming trip would be like. The meeting lasted the whole day. To my pleasant surprise they had served Earl Grey as the main refreshment during breaks, and everyone seemed to like it. I suspected a concerted, joint effort had been taking place somewhere in the background, most likely by Devalet Niraki and Councilwoman Korolan Mirei, and the results spoke for themselves. After a lot of tea, non-sweet elven scones and crumpets, and the promise of another meeting to hash out the plans some more, we were all dismissed. *** The night was warm, and Krissy was sleeping quietly without the usual snoring for a change. The meeting must have tired her out more than I had thought. Even Kitala Iwani had opted to sleep in her bed in the next room, as opposed to her usual spot on the large armchair in our room, as she had been so far. I wasn¡¯t sure why she¡¯d been doing that in the first place, but now that she wasn¡¯t, I found the night a little too empty without Tilry¡¯s blueish, four-armed figure hovering there, and the occasional conversation she was willing to engage in while our respective hosts slept. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Being a spirit had its drawbacks, which were a lot more pronounced if you had been human once. But it also had its perks. Not having to sleep was one of the main ones, followed by being invisible to physical creatures such as humans, elves or animals. Being immaterial was a really good one as far as perks went, and at times like this, I took full advantage of it. I pushed my spherical body away from Krissy¡¯s sleeping form, through the plastered stone wall, and into Kiwa¡¯s Room. Tilry slowly turned her head to look at me as I appeared, and my cute, wiggly tentacles spread out in the room. ¡®Kevin? What are you doing?¡¯ she asked as I settled myself somewhere in the middle of the room. Her four-armed form was hovering over the sleeping Kitala Iwani. Her head was like that of a post-modern mannequin in a boutique, smooth and mostly featureless, but I had spent enough time with her to be able to know where she was looking and to roughly determine what expression she might have had on her face if she actually had one. She was more or less comfortable with me now, having accepted that I wasn¡¯t a wild spirit hell-bent on gobbling up every soul and spirit around me, so we were good. ¡®I¡¯m working on something,¡¯ I said to her, and I brought out a small sheet of compressed Essence from my Spirit Room, holding it with one of my coiling tentacles. ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Touch it! Try to push a finger through it!¡¯ I held the A4 sized sheet up to her. She lifted one of her arms and poked at it with a clawed finger. It didn¡¯t make a sound as she touched it, and her finger dented it slightly but didn¡¯t go through it. She looked surprised as she withdrew her arm. ¡®What¡¯s this?¡¯ she asked again, but this time her voice conveyed an interest. ¡®It feels like Essence, but ¡­¡¯ ¡®¡­ but your finger should have gone through it.¡¯ I finished the sentence for her. ¡®Yes.¡¯ She was right of course. Everything spiritual was made of Essence, including Mana, Spirit Stuff, spiritual beings including the gods themselves. As such, it should have allowed her finger to go through it as if it was made of air, like most spiritual objects. My own soul was probably made of Essence, too, but it was different from the human souls in this world. For starters, it wasn¡¯t the pleasant teal colour like the souls of the local humans. It was white. Also, if I could believe Wensah, it was more resilient for some reason. They way the weird goddess had put it, a soul from this world wouldn¡¯t have endured being in the Spirit World and being grafted onto a wild spirit, like mine had been. And there was the fact that Hank could somehow use portions of it to enhance his own spiritual organs, particularly the large node-thing that was basically his brain or thereabouts. I¡¯d have to ask him how that worked later. ¡®So, I¡¯m making something,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®What?¡¯ ¡®Well, I suppose I could call it armour for spirits and souls,¡¯ I explained. ¡®One that could hopefully double as a disguise for me. I mean, if we make it to that infamous Fentys Alliance, I don¡¯t think the local familiar community would be happy to see a multi-tentacled beach ball in their midst.¡¯ ¡®Fuk yu! We¡¯ll eat them!¡¯ Hank joined in the conversation. ¡®We¡¯re not doing that, Hank.¡¯ I sighed. ¡®Why?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Eat, grow, become stronger. Then no need to hide.¡¯ Huh! The Tentacle Horror had a point, actually, in a way. In a wild way. Obviously Tilry had thought so too, and when I didn¡¯t answer immediately, she looked around nervously, probably looking for an exit she couldn¡¯t use anyway. ¡®Because, at this point, causing that kind of trouble would ruin the plan,¡¯ I said to Hank. Tilry seemed to relax. ¡®What is the plan? And why are you telling me?¡¯ She asked. ¡®Well, let¡¯s see,¡¯ I began. ¡®First of all, we¡¯re all in this together, I suppose, you, me, Hank ¡­ we¡¯re going to be doing some dangerous things. Ideally, I¡¯d like all of us to survive, including Krissy and Kiwa.¡¯ ¡®Right. That ¡­ I agree with.¡¯ Tilry nodded. ¡®Right. I agree. I¡¯m Hank,¡¯ Hank said, and suddenly I really missed having a face and a palm. ¡®Okay, thank you, Hank, much appreciated.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®So, the plan isn¡¯t fully formed yet,¡¯ I continued, ignoring Hank, who for some reason still felt the need to keep asserting his new name and identity. ¡®But the first stage is to prepare for the near future, namely the upcoming trip to Orkland, to survive, and to get the most out of it for ourselves.¡¯ ¡®Sounds like a good plan,¡¯ Tilry commented, and poked at the dense Essence sheet I was still holding. ¡®Is this ¡­ armour a part of it then?¡¯ ¡®It is indeed,¡¯ I said, wishing I could smile. ¡®I don¡¯t think the elves, or even Krissy, realise what we¡¯ll be up against.¡¯ ¡®Orks?¡¯ Tilry offered the answer. ¡®That too, yes,¡¯ I said to to her. ¡®But there were spiritualists on that ork galley. I killed two of them, but the familiars got away, back straight to the Spirit World. Another couple of them fled. We have to assume Sivera, and by extension the orks, are already aware that a Tentacle Horror is roaming around these parts. If I¡¯ve learned anything from the reaction of spirits to my presence, it¡¯s that I¡¯m not going to win any popularity contests. Got to be prepared.¡¯ ¡®Hm. True.¡¯ Tilry nodded thoughtfully. ¡®So disguise and armour is the solution?¡¯ ¡®A large part of the solution. And not just for me.¡¯ ¡®For us as well?¡¯ Tirly asked, looking down at her sleeping host. ¡®For everyone.¡¯ I nodded. ¡®For me, for you, for their souls.¡¯ ¡®For me?¡¯ Hank asked, sounding offended. Was he feeling left out all of a sudden, or something? ¡®If I get armour you get armour. We¡¯re in the same body.¡¯ ¡®We are,¡¯ he agreed, then added, ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®A fucking broken record, are you?¡¯ I growled at him. ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ Hank. Fuk you.¡¯ I heard a strange noise coming from Tilry, one I hadn¡¯t heard from her before. It wasn¡¯t loud, in fact it sounded like she was trying to suppress it. A giggle. ¡®Is this amusing to you?¡¯ I asked her, rather amused by the first sign of a sense of humour from the familiar. ¡®Oh, no. Of course not,¡¯ she blurted out the words, almost snapping to attention. Maybe not all her wariness were gone, but she was making progress, and I didn¡¯t want to discourage her. ¡®Ah, that¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry. What¡¯s funny is funny, and it¡¯s okay to laugh,¡¯ I said to her. The giggle didn¡¯t return, but she loosened a little, her four arms easing back into more comfortable positions. Which was weird. As a spirit I had never experienced the kind of discomfort I had as my former human self ¡ª pins and needles, numb limbs, muscle pain, or the kind of unpleasant sensation in your neck after sleeping in a bad position were a thing of the past. Was Tilry¡¯s more comfortable looking posture actually more comfortable, or was it just a visual representation of her being more relaxed? I wasn¡¯t sure. After a few more seconds of silence, Tilry said, ¡®So ¡­ are you telling me all this because ¡­ you want me to help?¡¯ Bingo. Tilry was a smart girl. ¡®Well, yes. You¡¯re a spirit, always have been, so I think you can help.¡¯ I said, holding up the small armour-sheet again. ¡®We¡¯ll need to do some brainstorming first as to how to make this into a usable product for everyone, and then how to store it.¡¯ ¡®Brainstorming? What¡¯s that?¡¯ Tilry inquired. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I guess ¡­ exchanging and discussing ideas. To see what would work and what wouldn¡¯t.¡¯ I explained. ¡®I¡¯ll help,¡¯ Tilry stated. ¡®I¡¯ll brainstorm! I¡¯m Hank!¡¯ Hank chimed in, his indignation from moments ago replaced with sudden enthusiasm. I was sure the only word he¡¯d understood from all that was ¡°storm¡±, and he probably thought it was cool. ¡®We¡¯re not doing that, Hank. You¡¯d need a properly functioning brain for that.¡¯ ¡®Fuk yu!¡¯ he screeched at me. ¡®I have brain. I grow brain.¡¯ ¡®Yeah? How?¡¯ ¡®Give me your white stuff! I drink and grow,¡¯ he roared. I wished I could have just bashed my head against a brick wall right now. ¡®Hank, you¡¯re lucky you have no idea how wrong that sounded.¡¯ Chapter Eighty Chapter Eighty His unfortunate choice of words aside, Hank had a point, and I considered it. I had secured Tilry¡¯s help, which was good, but I didn¡¯t believe she had much insight into the workings of a wild spirit, and she definitely wouldn¡¯t know how to increase the size of my Spirit Room safely. Hank would, and I was sure I could use him. Somehow. But Hank was ¡­ well, for the lack of a better word, quite child-like in a way, as evidenced by his antics. Hm. It wasn¡¯t the most comforting of thoughts; a wild spirit with the ability to consume me, paired with a mind that boasted the kind of understanding of the world a kindergartener would have. He had already eaten a small, fist-sized chunk of my soul, resulting in his ability to think and speak, which I guessed was better than him being your run-of-the-mill wild Tentacle Horror. But the question was whether I trusted him enough to give him a little more of myself, and perhaps elevate him to the level of an edgy teenager, or even a dysfunctional adult. I had no idea if he¡¯d have enough self-control not to gobble me up, though. I mean, ninety percent of his whole shtick was ¡°I¡¯m Hank, so eat-eat-eat¡±, and it wasn¡¯t filling me with the kind of confidence required to make a snap decision about this. But, time was of the essence ¡ª I figured we had about two, maybe two and a half weeks before our journey to the continent, and I wanted to be ready. In theory I could do this without having to transport my consciousness back to my main-self in the Spirit World ¡ª ever since my trip over there I¡¯d had a vague but sufficient sense of the ongoings in our body, so I was aware of Hank¡¯s occasional attempts at biting into my soul, and I could stop it with little to no mental effort. The fact was that he had already eaten some of me, and I couldn¡¯t see, feel or otherwise sense any adverse effects. Hell, Kiwa was missing an entire soul-arm, and apart from an almost indiscernible sense of ¡°missing something¡± ¡ª her words not mine ¡ª she was just fine. If I was to do this, I needed to do it while Krissy and Kiwa were asleep and unaware, otherwise they might actually talk me out of it. I was almost sure I could sort of supervise or control how much of my soul Hank would be able to take. Almost sure. Would that be enough? Ah, what the hell, I needed the critter to do better than he was doing now, and it looked like it was snap-decision-time after all. All it would cost me were an arm or a leg. Hopefully not both. ¡®So ¡­ Hank,¡¯ I called my infantile spirit-kraken roommate. ¡®I¡¯m Hank!¡¯ The enthusiastic reply came. ¡®Yes. So, how do you feel about making a deal?¡¯ I asked him cautiously. ¡®Deal? White-soul-deal?¡¯ he inquired clumsily but quite perceptively. ¡®Yeah. That,¡¯ I said. ¡®I¡¯ll let you have some more of it, but only if you behave, don¡¯t try to take more than I¡¯m giving you, and after you¡¯ve eaten and became more ¡­ well ¡­ clever, you¡¯ll help with a few projects I¡¯m ...¡¯ ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ Tilry interjected, not letting me finish the sentence. ¡®I¡¯m making a deal.¡¯ ¡®Why? Isn¡¯t it dangerous? What if it eats you?¡¯ she wailed. ¡®Lady Krissintha would be angry if you died.¡¯ ¡®Deal is deal,¡¯ Hank said, then added, ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t worry, Tilry, I know what I¡¯m doing. I think,¡¯ I said, failing to sound as confident as I wanted to. ¡®Do you?¡¯ the familiar protested, and for a change she tried to actually move away from her host to approach my spherical body. She couldn¡¯t of course, but it was the thought that counted. ¡®Are you worried about me?¡¯ I asked her, pleasantly surprised. ¡®I am. What if this ¡­ Hank takes over and eats us all?¡¯ ¡®He can hear us, you know.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®Listen, Tilry, I¡¯ve made the decision, so I¡¯m doing this. If things go wrong, you know what to do,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®I do?¡¯ she asked. She clearly didn¡¯t know. ¡®Wake Kiwa up and get out.¡¯ ¡®And Lady Krissintha?¡¯ ¡®Well, in the unlikely event of this ending badly, which it won¡¯t, you won¡¯t have time to do anything for her.¡¯ I said. I knew full well I wasn¡¯t only risking myself, but sometimes you just had to roll the dice with nothing but insufficient facts, feeble assurances and plenty of gut feelings to back your decision. And that¡¯s what I was doing. Hank had been a constant companion, even before I had realised it, and his newly developed ego and intelligence had not changed the fact that we were in this together, and that I needed him to help me properly. And the above-mentioned gut feelings were telling me this would work, and Hank wouldn¡¯t develop into a hangry, homicidal maniac upon consuming some more of my soul. I mean, it was my soul, and I was as sane and non-homicidal as the next man. Or spirit. If you didn¡¯t look at my track record to fact-check. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Tilry settled down, drawing closer to her host¡¯s sleeping form, and just gave me a reluctant but resigned nod like she was agreeing to the execution of an innocent man. ¡®Right. Are you ready for this, Hank?¡¯ I asked the Tentacle Horror. ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ The predictable reply came. *** My heart was in my throat, ignoring the fact I had neither heart nor throat. Had I been capable of sweating, I was sure I would have been doing that too, and I was worryingly close to getting cold feet. I could feel the anticipation emanating from Hank ¡ª a weird sensation at the edge of my consciousness, definitely belonging to someone other than me, growing by the second, becoming so pronounced I felt like someone was intensely staring at me. He was looking forward to this, probably salivating, his grabby little tendrils already near or on my soul, ready to take the first bite, just waiting for me to withdraw the invisible wall of my will preventing him from touching it. ¡®Okay, a part of one of my soul-arms, up to the elbow. Only that, nothing more. Got it?¡¯ I said to Hank. ¡®Got it!¡¯ The reply came, his voice deeper than usual, and it reminded me of the panting of a dog with his tongue out, waiting for his meal. I took a deep, mental breath, and I just ¡­ let it happen. I tried not to think about it, tried not to visualise it, but I couldn¡¯t help it. An image of a vicious wolf ¡ª who looked suspiciously like Akela ¡ª pouncing on his pray. Or a hawk diving down to grab a squirrel, its talons sharp and deadly. Or a shark. Or a velociraptor. Luckily or unluckily, the images didn¡¯t last long ¡ª the sharp pain of someone biting into my forearm chased them away in an instant. It hurt. The first time he¡¯d taken bites out of me, I hadn¡¯t even noticed it. Then again, I hadn¡¯t had the lingering connection to my spirit-world-self then that I had now. I felt the critter tear a piece out of me, and it hurt. Alright, I had to admit it wasn¡¯t unbearable, but still, I wouldn¡¯t have said no to a little local anaesthetic. And I truly, sincerely and quite desperately hoped it would be worth it. I wasn¡¯t sure if Hank was trying to torture me or he just didn¡¯t have the capacity to take larger bites. He worked slowly, consuming small chunk after small chunk, each of his bites stinging and burning. He was taking his sweet time, and I gritted my metaphorical teeth while trying not to think about how ridiculous this was. I was letting someone, a Tentacle Horror of all spirits, eat me. A Tentacle Horror. The most infamous and feared of all the invisible buggers out there. I had sort of got over the fact that for all intents and purposes I was one myself, but still, the sheer absurdity of it was something to behold. Well, it was too late ¡ª we were doing this, and Hank took the last bite, arriving to the designated border, namely the elbow of my soul-arm, beyond which he had no business munching. ¡®Just two more!¡¯ I heard him growl, almost as if he was in pain as well. ¡®Oi, no!¡¯ I yelled at him, then I felt him take another bite, border crossed and elbow gone. ¡®What the fuck are you doing?¡¯ ¡®Just ¡­ one ¡­ more!¡¯ he said, struggling to project his thoughts. ¡®You treacherous bastard!¡¯ I bellowed at him, while trying to will him away from my soul. It didn¡¯t work. I felt him take another chunk out of me. ¡®Ohhh,¡¯ he wheezed like he was out of breath or something, then he let out a thought that sounded like a yelp. Then nothing. Hank went quiet, and I felt his spiritual tendrils withdraw completely, even before my body managed to react to my mental effort and put whatever protection it could back into place. ¡®Hank? What have you done you idiot?¡¯ I demanded. No answer. ¡®What happened?¡¯ Tilry asked, her voice worried. ¡®The scheming piece of spirit-goo took more out of me than planned,¡¯ I stated, fuming with anger. Was the stupid critter really that greedy? I had thought he understood the deal and agreed to it. Had I misjudged him as well as the whole situation? Had this been a bad idea? I wasn¡¯t sure. Yes, he had taken a little more than we¡¯d agreed on, but my mind for some reason put the emphasis on the word ¡°little¡±. It really was a little. Two small bites. I felt somewhat weird, and I certainly began to understand the sensation of ¡°missing something¡± Kitala Iwani had described after her whole soul-arm had been chewed off, but ¡­ I was okay. Plus, if I was honest, Hank¡¯s ¡°just two more bites¡± didn¡¯t sound malevolent or greedy, really, instead I could have sworn I felt something like desperation in his voice. Maybe. Hm. How was I to approach this? Well, I had been accused of being a pushover in the not-so-distant past. It had a smidge of truth to it, but I was working on it. Would giving Hank the benefit of the doubt be a pushover thing to do? Maybe. But I had to keep the long-term goals in sight, and my initial anger dissipated quickly. ¡®Hank? Are you alright?¡¯ I asked. No answer. He was definitely there, I could feel his presence just as I had before, but it was as if he had fallen asleep. ¡®What¡¯s going on? Are you alright? Is Hank still there? Why isn¡¯t he saying anything?¡¯ Tilry bombarded me with her worried questions, and I was sure the object of her worrying wasn¡¯t Hank. ¡®I ¡­ don¡¯t know,¡¯ I said. ¡®He¡¯s still there but he¡¯s quiet. Indigestion, maybe?¡¯ ¡®Indigestion?¡¯ ¡®Yeah. He bit off more than he could chew. I mean, didn¡¯t he sound like he was struggling with the last two bites?¡¯ ¡®He ¡­ did.¡¯ Tilry agreed. ¡®So what now? Is it safe? Is he going to try to eat more?¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t think so. Seems like he¡¯s passed out, so I guess I¡¯ll let him sleep it off and see where we go from here when he wakes up.¡¯ ¡®You should have given this more thought before actually doing it,¡¯ the familiar chided me. She wasn¡¯t wrong, but ¡­ ¡®We¡¯re kind of pressed for time,¡¯ I said. ¡®Would a day or two have mattered?¡¯ she argued, obviously forgetting I was a vile Tentacle Horror who could make a meal out of her with a flick of a tentacle. Brave little spirit, wasn¡¯t she? Her progress was undeniable. ¡®Maybe, maybe not.¡¯ I said, trying to shrug, which resulted in a couple of my danger-noodles undulating in a strange manner. ¡®It is what it is, and I¡¯ll just have to deal with it.¡¯ Tilry sighed. ¡®Please make sure this won¡¯t put us all in danger.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ll do my best.¡¯ *** The rest of the night passed with agonising slowness, mostly because I spent it guessing what could have happened to Hank, and worrying what he would do when he woke up. Morning arrived, and I watched Krissy get up and get ready for the day. With the rangers¡¯ training exercise as well as the main strategy meeting done, we had some free time on our hands ¡ª or tentacles in my case ¡ª and since no-one wanted to stay at the rangers¡¯ compound, we decided to spend the day in Sek Artem. Chapter Eighty-one Chapter Eighty-one Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain had nothing against silence. Sometimes it was a good thing; every voice melding into an indistinct murmur and no-one speaking to her specifically ¡ª it was an opportunity to spend some time with her thoughts, ponder questions and problems, or do the opposite and empty her mind, forget everything for a time and enjoy the small things. She took another sip of her Earl Grey, took a bite of the quite frankly tasteless scone the elves seemed to like so much, and looked around the terrace of the tea-house. Her present table-company ¡ª Kitala Iwani and Tovaron Ento ¡ª followed her gaze as her eyes lingered on the small chalk-board at the entrance of the venue and on the queue of people waiting to get inside or the people coming out, holding their cups of tea and asking strangers at other tables on the terrace if they could sit down there. Krissintha still had trouble reading more complex texts written in Elvish, but the sign was simple enough: ¡°Buy a box of our new Earl Grey blend, and get to play with a Hellhound.¡± It was one of the weirdest things she¡¯d seen. Using Akela and Loki to sell tea? Something like this would have never occurred to her, but Deni, as the shrewd businesswoman she was, had decided that hellhounds and their pups were an acceptable sacrifice on the altar of profit ¡ª or ¡°marketing stunt¡± as Kevin had called the ongoing event inside the tea-house. And for some reason the spirit approved of this, going as far as calling it a genius idea. Toven wasn¡¯t as enthused as Deni and Kevin, but he had accepted that he had no say in the matter ¡ª he was a ranger, whose recent promotion from scout-master second rank to first rank hadn¡¯t impressed his wife enough to let him talk her out of this idea. Krissintha wondered if something like this would have worked back home. She didn¡¯t remember seeing tea-houses in Thyssa, but then again, she had rarely left her father¡¯s vast estates to venture into towns and cities. Sneaking out to do that was her brother, Bernard¡¯s thing. But tea-houses and other venues aside, humans and elves had similar if not the same myths and stories about the dark and mysterious red-eyed wolves: servants of the lords of Hell, accompanying evil spirits to steal and drag the souls of men to the underworld for less than friendly purposes. It was the prevailing opinion amongst those who were telling such stories that hellhounds had existed once, but were extinct. She could easily imagine the allure of seeing one of the creatures with one¡¯s own eyes, and if you could even pet or give one a belly-rub, spending fifteen Kyns on a box of tea would be a small price to pay. Then, those who bought a box would realise the tea was pretty good, and hopefully they¡¯d buy more. As far as plans went, Krissintha had to admit it was a good one, and she was sure Akela and Loki were having the time of their lives inside the tea-house, getting meaty treats and belly-rubs from interested elves. How Deni had managed to convince the owner of the establishment to do this, she had no idea, but she imagined her constant presence inside to keep an eye on the wolves was one of the conditions. Krissintha glanced at Toven and Kiwa, both of them quietly sipping tea from their cups, looking like a married couple who had lost all interest in talking to each other ages ago. Toven must have had a lot on his mind, considering his recent promotion as well as his participation in the upcoming trip to the Mainlands. He was probably thinking about the plans and ways to make them better. It was more difficult to guess what Kiwa was thinking, but Krissintha had learned that when the woman was quiet, it usually meant she had nothing to say, and probably wasn¡¯t anything on her mind at all. Kevin being quiet wasn¡¯t anything unusual ¡ª sometimes days would pass without her familiar saying anything more than a few words, just to let her know he was there and he was alert. But the silence of Kevin¡¯s newly acquired companion was unusual and somewhat disconcerting. ¡®Kevin, what¡¯s with your friend, Hank?¡¯ she asked the spirit aloud. Toven and Kiwa looked at her, the first one to break the silence that had been going on for quite some time. Hank? Nothing. Why are you asking about Hank? Kevin replied, in his tone the nervous defensiveness of a kid caught stealing honey from his mom¡¯s kitchen. This was suspicious. ¡®Are you sure?¡¯ she asked. ¡®It¡¯s past midday, the place is full, and he hasn¡¯t once demanded we go and eat some souls.¡¯ Ah, he¡¯s ¡­ uhm ¡­ having a nap. ¡®A nap? I thought spirits didn¡¯t sleep,¡¯ she countered. Well, he¡¯s sleeping because ¡­ Kevin began to present some no doubt improvised explanation, but Tilry cut in and finished the sentence for him. Because he¡¯s having indigestion. Traitor! Kevin hissed. Kiwa raised her eyebrows the same time as Krissintha. Toven, who was included in the voice-chat this time, rubbed his chin and asked, ¡®Who¡¯s Hank? Did you get a second familiar?¡¯ ¡®Not exactly a familiar, just another voice in my head,¡¯ Krissintha said, shaking her head, a sudden feeling of irritation popping up from nowhere. Because one voice wasn¡¯t enough, was it? And had anyone even asked her if she wanted or needed a second voice? No. Of course not. But Toven didn¡¯t seem bothered or irritated by her statement. Why would he? There was no visible sign of danger, the people sitting out on the terrace or queuing to enter to pet a red-eyed wolf were all alive and well, their souls where they belonged. ¡®Better start talking, Kevin!¡¯ Krissintha warned the spirit. ¡®No secrets between host and familiar, alright?¡¯ Well, so ¡­ I fed him a little last night. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a somewhat heavy meal I suppose. Kevin said, clearly not happy having to share. ¡®What? You went out? With who?¡¯ she demanded. Was him leaving on his own going to become a habit? Oh, no no no, we didn¡¯t go anywhere. I had some reserves. Tilry, tell her we didn¡¯t go anywhere! They didn¡¯t go anywhere. Tilry said dryly. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡®You didn¡¯t?¡¯ Krissintha asked, just to make sure. We didn¡¯t! And Hank will be alright, you¡¯ll see. Kevin assured her, then it sounded like he took a deep breath. So ¡­ we¡¯re going to the continent soon. The Mainlands as you people call it. Are you excited to be going back there? Krissintha blinked upon hearing this blatant attempt at changing the subject. Fine. She could play along. ¡®Back? I¡¯ve never been to the Mainlands,¡¯ she said. What? Isn¡¯t that where you¡¯re from? Kevin asked, sounding confused. ¡®Thyssa is an island. Like Solace. Down south,¡¯ Krissintha said, sighing as memories began to crawl to the fore. ¡®I¡¯ve never left Thyssa before. We were going to visit Kethesh. Father promised we¡¯d go, he said we¡¯d visit one of those famous markets. But I knew he just wanted to introduce me to a few potential husbands.¡¯ Abroad? Thyssa ran out of suitors or something? Kevin asked, amused. ¡®Well, I made sure it did. But I only slapped a few of them.¡¯ She lifted her hands defensively. ¡®Most of them are probably dead now. This was before ¡­ you know.¡¯ Krissintha¡¯s voice trailed off. Before that rebellion. Kevin said. ¡®It was supposed to be my first time traveling by ship,¡¯ she said, not so much sighing but growling. ¡®Instead, my first time on a ship was when that bastard Jevan dragged me onto one. And you know how that ended.¡¯ Oh, I remember. Kraken number one? ¡®Right. Kraken number one,¡¯ Krissintha scoffed. ¡®I still can¡¯t believe I ran into those monsters not once but twice. And lived.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m suddenly worried about our upcoming voyage to the Mainlands,¡¯ Toven remarked. ¡®If you¡¯re attracting the giant sea creatures, I might have to pull a few strings to be put on a different ship.¡¯ Krissintha scoffed again. ¡®You should probably do that,¡¯ she said, smiling at the man as menacingly as she could. ¡®I mean, there won¡¯t be krakens, but I¡¯m not sure I want to spend the trip listening to you asking me when they will show up.¡¯ Toven chuckled at that, and so did Kiwa, but Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure it was just a joke, especially the part about not encountering krakens again. She couldn¡¯t be sure of that, could she? She had only been on two ships in her life ¡ª the Dalar¡¯s Heart and the Island Queen ¡ª and what had happened both times? Krakens. That was two out of two, and now here she was, only a couple of weeks away from her third ever journey on sea, and it would have been a lie to say she wasn¡¯t at least a little worried. She buried the thought immediately, and she was thankful when Kevin asked an unrelated question, changing the topic again, whether it was on purpose or not. So, how far is Thyssa from this Fentys Alliance? ¡®Far,¡¯ Toven answered. ¡®If you travel by land, starting from the Alliance, then you¡¯ll have to cross Persis, the Voysair Empire, then go through either Flania or Filante to get to Kethesh, then take a ship from there to Thyssa.¡¯ ¡®Have you ever been to other countries?¡¯ Krissintha asked the man. ¡®I¡¯ve been to Persis a few times,¡¯ Toven said. ¡®I almost went to the Black Iron League once, but the dwarves changed their minds last minute and decided to deliver goods through Persis merchants.¡¯ ¡®Yeah, they do that.¡¯ Kiwa nodded knowingly. Krissintha recalled that there had been a dwarf in Kitala Iwani¡¯s original party, the one Sivera had sent to Solace to hunt down the loose evil spirit. That was the first time she¡¯d ever seen a dwarf ¡ª just like elves, down south in Thyssa, Blethonia or Kethesh, you could spend a lifetime without coming across a single one. It wasn¡¯t unprecedented; she had heard stories of elves and dwarves showing up in port cities every once in a while, either as part of a ship¡¯s crew, or in the company of merchants, but she had never seen one, not until she had ended up on Solace. Do you miss home? Do you miss Thyssa? Kevin asked. Krissintha had to pause for a few moments ¡ª the question was sudden and unexpected, and if she was honest, she hadn¡¯t really thought about it. Did she miss Thyssa? What did Thyssa mean to her anyway? Sure, it was a nice place, much warmer than here in the north, and she¡¯d had a good life there. A much easier life, being the daughter of one of the richest, most influential barons. Did she miss it? And if she did, what was it exactly she missed? The easy, lavish life, everyone bending over backwards for her because they were afraid what her father might do if his daughter complained about them? The comfort? The false safety that had vanished overnight? ¡®I miss my family,¡¯ she said as more memories surfaced. ¡®My father, he was ¡­ not a nice man. He was a baron, and sometimes he was cruel. He had to be. But he was my father and I loved him. My mother would come up with the most devious ideas to trap people who would want to harm us, you know, and my father relied on her greatly to protect our family. My brother, my older brother, Isthan, he was going to inherit the barony, and he was doing his best to not disappoint father. He was good at everything. He even became a spiritualist. Bernard, my younger brother, he knew he wasn¡¯t going to inherit as much as Isthan, but he didn¡¯t care. He¡¯d sneak out all the time and leave the estate, sometimes for days, and we¡¯d find him in town, fooling around with the common folk, the townspeople. Even now I don¡¯t know what he found so entertaining there, but it wasn¡¯t tea-houses, I can tell you that much.¡¯ Krissintha chuckled as she remembered the times her father¡¯s men had to drag her brother back to the estate, and how he¡¯d complain about it for days, about how unfair it was that he couldn¡¯t just do things he enjoyed. ¡®He might be the only one still alive,¡¯ Krissintha said, her giggles turning into a trembling in her chest, and she suddenly felt she was an inch away from starting to sob. ¡®He was out somewhere when the usurper¡¯s army arrived at our estate. As usual. He was ¡­ he is clever. He might have disguised himself and hid in one of the towns. I hope he did. Maybe he¡¯s alive and well, living the life of a common man. He wasn¡¯t well known, I doubt most people would recognise him, so ¡­ so it¡¯s ¡­¡¯ ¡®So it¡¯s possible,¡¯ Kiwa finished the sentence for her. ¡®I suppose it is.¡¯ Krissintha nodded, wondering if anyone had noticed the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. I guess we will have to visit Thyssa sometime and look for him. Kevin stated. Family is important. He is your little brother after all. ¡®You¡¯d be alright going to Thyssa with me?¡¯ She asked. Of course. That¡¯s what friends are for. Kevin replied without hesitation. Krissintha smiled. The memories she had just relived were faint, as if all those people, all those events had happened a lifetime ago instead of little over a year ago. One of the memories of that life was a distinct lack of friends. Oh, there had been plenty of people claiming to be her friends back then, but how many of them had been true friends and not sycophants? How many of them would simply offer their unconditional support, expecting nothing in return? ¡®Thanks, Kevin,¡¯ she said. ¡®We¡¯ll find my little brother. Eventually.¡¯ A commotion at the entrance drew the attention of everyone at the table. Deni walked out of the tea-house, exhaustion evident in her gait, a happy-looking father-son duo of dark wolves following her like puppies, heading straight to their table. ¡®Ah, I guess it¡¯s break-time for my darling wife,¡¯ Toven said, standing up as Deni and her furry retinue arrived. ¡®You wouldn¡¯t believe what¡¯s going on in there. Old man Girat is happy though. He hadn¡¯t had this kind of rush for years in his shop. He even asked if we¡¯d be interested in letting him adopt Akela or Loki. I said no of course, they¡¯re my pups,¡¯ Deni presented her report. Toven glanced at the wolves, shaking his head in apparent disapproval of anything wolf-related. ¡®So, are you hungry yet? Shall we go and get something nice?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Starving,¡¯ Deni exhaled the word, then looked down at the two wolves standing on either side of her. ¡®And I think my associates could use some more snacks.¡¯ ¡®What? The mutts have been snacking all morning, haven¡¯t they?¡¯ Toven snapped. ¡®There¡¯s always room for more snacks,¡¯ Deni waved her husband¡¯s concerns aside. Krissintha watched the two elves leave, still arguing, or more like debating the capacity of Akela¡¯s stomach, but in a good-natured way. She had no doubt that the hellhound and his family had grown on them, well, on Deni mostly, and Toven wouldn¡¯t have the guts to order them out of his home. Not if he wanted to continue to have a peaceful and productive relationship with his wife. Krissintha was about to stand up and suggest to Kiwa that they too should leave and find something more interesting than a tea-house, but she slumped back into her chair as a greeting echoed in her mind. Good morning, everyone. The new voice joined the conversation. Then Krissintha realised it wasn¡¯t a new one, it was one she had been getting used to hearing in her head: Hank¡¯s voice. And talking about little brothers ¡­ well, good morning to you, little brother! Chapter Eighty-two Chapter Eighty-two And Hank was back, surprising the crap out of me with his sudden greeting. ¡®Hank! You¡¯re okay. And ¡­ little brother? What are you talking about?¡¯ I questioned him immediately. ¡®Well, we are joint at the hip, aren¡¯t we? We¡¯re like Siamese twins, spiritual edition,¡¯ Hank explained. His voice was more or less the same as before, deep and only slightly monstrous, but he had become so articulate it was frightening. And how the hell did he know what Siamese twins were? He continued. ¡®But, I was here first, minding my own business, then you came along. So, you¡¯re the little brother. If you don¡¯t like it, you can fuck right off. Oh, I forgot. You can¡¯t. Lucky me. I guess I¡¯ll just have to put up with you for a while longer, little brother.¡¯ ¡®Did you ¡­ did you go around inside my mind? Again?¡¯ I asked, completely befuddled. And a little scared. ¡®I hope you didn¡¯t expect me not to. I¡¯m Hank,¡¯ he said. ¡®I admit, your soul is a really good one, compared to anything I¡¯ve seen so far. Tasty as well as great for building my own brain. Now I can make sense of myself, and of course you and your memories. Ah, the tragedy of Kevin, killed and then denied the ¡°rest in peace¡± part of the process.¡¯ ¡®I ¡­ uh ¡­ what?¡¯ I stuttered, lost for words, trying to think of something at least halfway intelligible to say. ¡®Kevin, what the hell is going on? Is that Hank? Why is he so ¡­ talkative?¡¯ Krissy asked, her eyes wide with surprise at hearing the Tentacle Horror so casually and eloquently presenting himself. Kiwa was just staring at Krissy, probably waiting to see where this was going. She of course knew about Hank, too, so no-one was panicking yet, except me. ¡®Hello, Krissy, it¡¯s me, Hank,¡¯ the damned ex-wild-spirit greeted my host. Our host, actually. ¡®Hello ¡­ Hank,¡¯ Krissy returned the greeting, seemingly as unsure how to react as I was. ¡®Well, let me start by saying what an absolute pleasure to finally meet you and having the capacity to properly converse,¡¯ he said. ¡®I know you¡¯ve been through a lot, and I know my little brother has caused you no end of problems. Do not worry, I am here now, and as all good big brothers should do, I¡¯ll be watching.¡¯ ¡®You know, where I come from, that whole ¡°big brother¡¯s watching you¡± thing has pretty negative connotations.¡¯ I interjected. ¡®I know.¡¯ Hank chuckled. ¡®And I¡¯m all for turning perceptions around, so don¡¯t you worry, little brother.¡¯ ¡®Oh, I am worried. Very worried. And I¡¯m not your brother, and most certainly not your ¡°little brother¡±. If I was, then what would that make Wensah? Our mum?¡¯ ¡®Uhm ¡­ grandmother at best. She¡¯s rather old I believe. But don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll deal with her eventually. I have a cunning plan,¡¯ he said. ¡®As cunning as a fox who¡¯s just been appointed professor of cunning at Oxford University?¡¯ I said, unable to resist making the reference, even in this weird situation that could potentially turn Wensah against us so completely that she¡¯d wipe us off the map. ¡®Yes, Baldrick, as cunning as that.¡¯ Hank sighed, and I wasn¡¯t sure which was more worrying: that he had some sort of plan brewing, or that he knew Blackadder. Just how much knowledge and memories had the miscreant plundered from my mind? Also, if anyone was Baldrick in this relationship, it wasn¡¯t me. And he wasn¡¯t done. ¡®Our days as a Tentacle Horror are coming to an end, for we are to tread a different path,¡¯ he proclaimed solemnly. ¡®And I expect your full cooperation.¡¯ ¡®Just hold on for a second!¡¯ I protested. ¡®I happen to be the main character here, you¡¯re a sidekick at best, alright? You cooperate with me, not the way around, Hank.¡¯ ¡®Huh. That¡¯s called wishful thinking, lil bro.¡¯ ¡®The hell lil bro? I¡¯m not your lil bro!¡¯ I thundered at him. How dare he? ¡®You are what you are now because of what I gave you. If anything, I am your father.¡¯ ¡®Oh? Let me guess. You want me to come over to the dark side?¡¯ he said mockingly. ¡®Stop using my memories!¡¯ I screeched, my blood boiling. Alright, both of you be quiet this instant! Krissy¡¯s thought-voice cut in with a force I hadn¡¯t seen or heard from her before. Good thing she was using the voice-chat ¡ª had she yelled at us out loud with that intensity, she would have drawn the attention of everyone in and around the tea-house. Like a furious mother about to teach the true meaning of pain and discipline to her unruly children. I was suddenly more worried about her than Hank, and since Hank stifled whatever he was going to say next, I figured he was too. ¡®This is getting interesting,¡¯ Kitala Iwani commented casually. ¡®Tilry, you know what¡¯s going on, don¡¯t you?¡¯ Well, I ¡­ do. The spirit said, clearly not happy to be put on the spot. Go on! Krissy prompted her to start talking, her thought-voice cool and controlled, but the expression on her face making me think that perhaps it wouldn¡¯t be a good idea to refuse her. Tilry seemed to have been thinking the same, and she spilled the beans. *** ¡®And you thought this was a good idea because ¡­?¡¯ Krissy spoke using her voice this time, not too loudly, sighing and looking like the whole universe was a giant burden on her shoulders alone. ¡®He¡¯s got insights that I don¡¯t. We¡¯ll need to be ready, and he¡¯ll be helpful,¡¯ I argued my case while doubting myself more than ever before. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡®Hm,¡¯ she hummed, scowling. It seemed making choices I would regret almost immediately was becoming a habit, but I still had to defend both Hank and myself, and convince Krissy about the merits of Clever-Hank as opposed to Dumb-and-Hungry-Hank. It wasn¡¯t that Krissy or anyone else short of a god could do anything about him, but I was determined ¡ª following Toven¡¯s example ¡ª to maintain the good and productive relationship I had with the people around me, especially with my host. That was non-negotiable. And whether I liked it or not, it applied to Hank as well, so I decided it was time I gave him the floor. ¡®Alright, Hank, so tell us what you¡¯ll be bringing to the table,¡¯ I said to my self-appointed, insufferable brother. Damn. ¡®I¡¯m glad you asked,¡¯ he said, sounding as smug as a teenager who was sure he had everything figured out. ¡®Now, when I rummaged through my little brother¡¯s mind ¡­¡¯ ¡®Yeah, thanks for that,¡¯ I scoffed. ¡®And drop the ¡°little brother¡± thing!¡¯ ¡®¡­ my first thought was that he should be sued for mismanagement or gross misconduct,¡¯ he said, ignoring me completely. ¡®But I decided not to judge him too harshly. He used to be human, and from another world after all, so his ignorance is somewhat understandable.¡¯ ¡®Hold on. Another world? Kevin, what does he mean another world?¡¯ Krissy stopped him, aiming her attention at me like the barrel of a gun. Oh Hank, you manipulative bastard, turning the attention away from you and back to me. ¡®Uh, well, I used to be human, as you know, and I am from another world,¡¯ I said, chuckling nervously. ¡®That¡¯s what he just said.¡¯ Krissy snapped at me. ¡®Care to explain in a little more detail?¡¯ ¡®Alright. I¡¯m from a different world altogether. Different planet, or different dimension, I have no idea. I¡¯m not a native of this world, and there isn¡¯t much more to this,¡¯ I said, but even I knew this wasn¡¯t going to be enough. So, I gave them a concise account of what good old Earth was like, my unfortunate demise and first encounter with Wensah, and my first couple of years on Misery Island up to the point I had run into Krissy. She listened intently to my story, and even Kiwa and Tilry looked more interested than I had ever seen them before. I supposed a story of another world was moderately fascinating, even for spirits. But in the end, it was irrelevant. ¡®It doesn¡¯t change anything,¡¯ I said upon concluding the story of who I was and how I had got here. ¡®It doesn¡¯t?¡¯ Krissy raised an eyebrow. ¡®No. The situation we face is the same regardless of where I¡¯m from. And we need to be ready.¡¯ ¡®Alright,¡¯ she said, looking all thoughtful. ¡®So, how do we prepare then?¡¯ ¡®You and Kiwa are as prepared as you can be. Well, once the cast comes off your arm and you can walk without crutches,¡¯ I said. ¡®The rest is up to me, Tilry and Hank.¡¯ ¡®I need a little more than that,¡¯ she said, furrowing her brows. ¡®Hank? Care to weigh in on this?¡¯ I put my annoying brother-creature back in the spotlight. ¡®Sure thing, bro,¡¯ he said, and I wanted to punch him, which I couldn¡¯t, and my frustration reached new heights. ¡®As I said, Kevin has been mismanaging our body quite badly, but never fear, good old Hank has a plan. I¡¯m Hank, by the way. We are going to eat, we are going to grow, and we are going to expand our capacity to collect and store Essence, produce Mana, and to store sufficient amounts of equipment made of processed Essence.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s the same as before: eat, eat, eat. Isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Krissy commented, shaking her head. ¡®Thank you, Krissy, my thoughts exactly,¡¯ I cried out, feeling unparalleled satisfaction. ¡®Well, to be honest, my brother¡¯s idea of making shields or armour to protect ourselves and your souls from other spirits is not bad,¡¯ Hank explained, making sighing sounds in the process as if he was forced at gunpoint to admit my idea was okay. ¡®But if we are to reach godhood, then we¡¯ll need to work out how to make the so-called Black Essence, and for that we need to grow and increase all our capacities.¡¯ ¡®Reaching godhood? What do you mean reaching godhood?¡¯ Krissy demanded immediately, sounding more than a little worried. ¡®He means that if we are to get out from under Wensah¡¯s thumb, we need to be on equal footing with her at the very least.¡¯ I offered the explanation. ¡®Exactly,¡¯ Hank agreed then added, ¡®And also because then we¡¯ll be able to go our separate ways in separate bodies.¡¯ ¡®Is that so?¡¯ I asked, although it made sense. ¡®Well, unless you love your big bro so much that you want to stay with him forever,¡¯ Hank scoffed. ¡®Of course not,¡¯ I protested. That was the last thing I wanted to do. And Hank was probably right; if there was anyone who¡¯d be able to split our shared body into two separate entities, it was a god doubling as a soul-surgeon. So, we just had to become gods. Two, distinctly separate gods. I had no problem with that, in fact, I had been considering the idea myself for some time. If we succeeded, I might be able to create a human-like avatar like Wensah¡¯s and finally walk the earth properly. Oh, the thought filled me with joyful anticipation, despite knowing it was somewhere off in a distant future. But it was there. And so were the numerous steps we had to take to reach it. I wasn¡¯t sure how we¡¯d go about it, but since we had been tasked to set the Bureau up for Wensah, I imagined we¡¯d have to start skimming her pool of familiars for ourselves at some point, to have enough Essence for our purposes. Oh, we were going to become a full-on spirit-mafia, weren¡¯t we? Well, ¡°the end justifies the means¡± or so the saying went, and I was sure I would be able to set aside pesky moral and practical issues that would come with stealing from a half-established god. After all, Wensah herself had done this at least once, that¡¯s why Kiwa and Tilry were with us. All we needed to do was to not get caught. ¡®Unfortunately,¡¯ Hank continued, ¡®my darling little brother is in charge of our tentacles and our calorie intake, so that¡¯s definitely a wrench in the gears.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t know what that means,¡¯ Krissy stated. ¡®It means that he would prefer if we ate everything and everyone, and I would prefer if we kept it to actual enemies,¡¯ I explained. ¡®Pretty much,¡¯ Hank agreed, but then said, ¡®But I understand the necessity of being selective, so I¡¯ll play along.¡¯ ¡®Gee, thanks bro,¡¯ I said mockingly. ¡®No need to be an ass,¡¯ he grumbled. ¡®We are going to the Mainlands soon. To the orks. That¡¯s a lot of souls, right?¡¯ Tilry joined in the conversation, but she sounded somewhat ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. Sad? Angry? Or perhaps ¡­ jealous? I wasn¡¯t surprised. Unlike me, she was a proper familiar, not a wild spirit. Her only source of growth was her host¡¯s soul, which she could only consume upon the death of said host, and only if her patron god had given her that small cube of Black Essence to predigest her meal, so to speak. ¡®Hank, if we manage to make some Black Essence, or something similar, could we help Tilry grow a little bit? Like letting her have some of the souls we take?¡¯ I asked. Tilry visibly tensed, her invisible body straightening like a soldier snapping to attention. Oh, she was interested in this, wasn¡¯t she? ¡®I suppose it¡¯s possible,¡¯ Hank said thoughtfully. ¡®We¡¯ll need to look into the process of how and why we are able to consume souls without Black Essence and work it out from there. Good idea, lil bro. I¡¯m so proud of you.¡¯ ¡®Oh, for god¡¯s sake ¡­¡¯ I started to say, protesting this whole ¡°lil bro¡± business once again, but he spoke over me. ¡®For which god¡¯s sake? The ones we are going to become, I hope.¡¯ ¡®Yeah. Sure. That¡¯s what I meant,¡¯ I said with a sigh, my will to argue with him evaporating. ¡®Excellent. Any other questions?¡¯ Hank asked. This time it was Kitalal Iwani who spoke. ¡®So, if Tilry grows, does it mean I¡¯ll have access to more power and I can fight longer using it?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Yeah, that¡¯s what it means,¡¯ I said, and felt a wave of agreement from Hank, as if he was nodding his non-existent head. ¡®Make sure you feed her a lot,¡¯ Kiwa said, smiling viciously. I¡¯d had no doubt she¡¯d be excited about this, the bloody combat junkie. ¡®We don¡¯t have a lot of time before we leave Solace, so how do we start with ¡­ with all this?¡¯ Krissy asked. ¡®Well,¡¯ Hank and I said at the same time. Chapter Eighty-three Chapter Eighty-three ¡®Seriously! Why are we doing this?¡¯ Krissy demanded again with the same if not more exasperation in her voice as before. I understood why; it¡¯s only been two days since the surgeons had taken the cast off her arm, cleared her for walking, and told her to avoid physically demanding activities. But instead of letting her rest, we were in the forests surrounding Sek Artem, hunting for anything that had a soul. ¡®Because Hank needs more spirit-stuff to do his experiments.¡¯ I gave her the same answer as the previous hundred times she¡¯d asked that question. ¡®And to spend as much time as we can with Akela and Loki before we leave tomorrow.¡¯ Right on cue a nearby bush between two trees rustled, and Akela appeared, dragging a multi-horned, deer-like creature, Loki running in circles around him like an electron around the nucleus of an atom, excited to be hunting with his dad. It was good to see the old hellhound hadn¡¯t lost his touch and remained as efficient a hunter as he had been on Misery Island ¡ª I was sure Loki was thinking ¡°best dad ever¡±. Krissy walked over to Akela, who was growling viciously, his jaws snapped shut around the deer¡¯s neck, his thoughts reeking of his frustration at the behaviour of his offspring. Apparently he would have preferred Loki to be a lot less noisy and a lot more stealthy. I reached out with two tentacles, touching the deer¡¯s body with one and lodging the other into its soul. I pulled the carcass into Jack¡¯s Room, and I liquidised and slurped up the soul, adding a measly 15 EXP to the 1885 already in the bank, leaving me about 3795 EXP short for Level 35. I had my worries about going to the Mainlands and taking part in the raid on the orks ¡ª the dangers were undeniable ¡ª but from a growth standpoint it was going to be a nutrient rich environment. Orks and their human and elf slaves were going to be fair game, and I hoped a couple of levels were in the cards for me. Loki stopped rampaging around instantly, turning his cute little head left and right, sniffing the air, searching for the dead prey that suddenly wasn¡¯t there. Oh, confused wolf pups were adorable. ¡®Hey, Hank,¡¯ I called out to my weird companion. ¡®This is the third one. Are we good or do you need more?¡¯ ¡®Hm, we¡¯re good for now, bro,¡¯ he said, not missing the chance to call me ¡°bro¡±, but at least he had dropped the ¡°little¡±. Small victories. It still irritated me, but I had got used to it over the past two weeks, and I had learned that nothing I said or did could stop him, and that was that. ¡®So?¡¯ I asked him. ¡®So ¡­ what?¡¯ he asked back. ¡®So, what have you learned so far?¡¯ I growled at him almost the same way Akela had been growling at Loki: with a metric ton of irritation. ¡®I¡¯m close to figuring out how we break down the souls before absorbing them. Patience, I¡¯ll let you know soon,¡¯ Hank said, and I was sure he¡¯d be shrugging if he had shoulders. Patience? I wanted to argue with him and demand an answer. He¡¯d been at his so-called experiments for days, surely, he must have discovered something useful by now. I mean, how hard could it be to have a look and come up with a way to replicate the process of liquidising a soul? Well, maybe I was a little impatient. During my two, lonely years on Misery Island, I had conducted my fair share of experiments, discovering the nature of spiritual existence, of spiritual materials like Essence, Mana and Spirit Stuff, and I knew very well that these things took time. Back then I had been patient with myself, because I had nothing else to do, nowhere else to be, and no-one else to worry about. But it wasn¡¯t the case this time. I had Krissy, Kiwa and Tilry to worry about ¡ª Hank excluded from the list on purpose ¡ª and we were expecting four of the Solace Navy¡¯s ships to arrive tomorrow to pick up a few hundred rangers as well as us. Things were happening a lot faster these days than back on Misery Island, and I didn¡¯t think I could afford to be as patient as I had been back then. ¡®You¡¯d better have something useful for us, Hank,¡¯ I warned him. ¡®Oh, don¡¯t you worry your little soul-head, just go play cat¡¯s cradles with our tentacles or something, and leave the serious stuff to your brother, alright?¡¯ The condescending, insufferable bastard! ¡®Some brother you are,¡¯ I scoffed. ¡®I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®At least you have a brother,¡¯ Krissy commented, squatting and providing belly-rubs to the two wolves simultaneously. ¡®I might not be so lucky.¡¯ ¡®If you want to adopt him, I¡¯m happy to sign the paperwork right away,¡¯ I grumbled. ¡®I heard that!¡¯ Hank said, and for some reason I thought he sounded a little ¡­ offended. Krissy just sighed, stood up, and we were ready to return to Sek Artem to prepare for tomorrow. *** This was the last night of us using the cafeteria at the Fifth Rangers¡¯ compound, and the guys who were running it were more than relieved to hear we were leaving. Not that we had ever left a mess, but I understood the sentiment: expecting a dedicated cook or a chef to lend his kitchen to someone else without any reservations was like expecting a priest to allow cultists to perform satanic rituals in his church and be happy about it. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I was in charge of tea and pancakes, as usual, and I was determined to put nothing but the best on the table for Krissy, Kiwa, and our guests: Third Rangers Training Team Twenty-seven. Tivarra Mor and Ardeela Erto were chatting with Kiwa quietly, mostly about the intricacies of different sword techniques, while Master Fenar¡¯s granddaughter, Hiraken Sala, was demanding all kinds of assurances that we¡¯d stay safe, be careful, and at the same time show no mercy to the vile orks while liberating the elves they had dared kidnap. ¡®It¡¯s a shame you¡¯re not coming back,¡¯ Hisa said. ¡®But I¡¯ll be waiting to hear how Misery the Ruthless helped take our people back.¡¯ ¡®I dislike that name,¡¯ Krissy said flatly. ¡®And I think you¡¯ll hear more stories of your grandfather¡¯s exploits. I mean, the man is something else. The way he fights and how fast he is ¡­ it¡¯s almost unbelievable.¡¯ I couldn¡¯t disagree with her; the first word coming to mind when trying to describe Fenar was ¡°monster¡±. The man was lethal. Orks were strong and brutish, but I doubted they had anyone who could challenge him, even if they were spiritualists. Fenar wasn¡¯t a living legend for nothing, was he? ¡®He is a renowned warrior, that¡¯s for sure, but he usually avoids being in the centre of attention.¡¯ Hisa argued. ¡®Is that why there are statues of him in cities across Fayr Sitan for saving the nation from an evil, tentacled god?¡¯ Krissy asked, smirking. ¡®Oh, well, that was a long time ago and it was a one-off,¡¯ Hisa explained, her cheeks turning red. ¡®I think that might have been one of the reasons he decided to be one of the first settlers here.¡¯ ¡®Maybe. But I think he is more important to the mission than Kevin and I,¡¯ Krissy said. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he told us all to just stay back and then went and killed every last ork by himself.¡¯ Hisa considered this for a moment, but looked undecided. ¡®I don¡¯t think even he could do that,¡¯ she said. ¡®Please make sure he doesn¡¯t do something stupid like that!¡¯ ¡®You think I could stop him from doing that?¡¯ ¡®Probably not,¡¯ Hisa conceded, chuckling nervously. ¡®The man is like that spiritualist Kevin keeps talking about. The one from his home?¡¯ Kiwa butted in to the conversation between Krissy and Hisa. ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯ I asked, because I couldn¡¯t recall talking about spiritualists on account of Earth not having any, and I certainly couldn¡¯t remember comparing Fenar to anyone other than Chuck, and I had never claimed he was a spiritualist. ¡®That guy from your world, Chris or something,¡¯ Kiwa said, grinning, then addressed the whole table company. ¡®Listen to this: there is a spiritualist where Kevin¡¯s from, and his familiar is so powerful that when the man died, it brought him back to life after three days.¡¯ ¡®Oh, Jesus Christ?¡¯ I asked, realisation hitting me like a train. ¡®Yeah, that guy.¡¯ Kiwa nodded happily. ¡®I¡¯ve never heard of a familiar doing that,¡¯ Arde commented. ¡®Well, this one¡¯s powerful. What was his name? Holy Spirit, right?¡¯ Kiwa inquired. ¡®Apparently this whole dying and undying happened like a thousand years ago, and they¡¯re still alive.¡¯ ¡®Two thousand years ago, but that¡¯s not the point,¡¯ I said, starting to feel the need to perform a good old fashioned facepalm. ¡®True,¡¯ Kiwa agreed. ¡®The point is whether Tilry can get to that level or not. You know, in case someone manages to kill me. It would be really helpful.¡¯ ¡®Well, I¡¯d feel a lot better about raiding the orks if you could do that, Kevin,¡¯ Krissy said, and I wasn¡¯t sure if she meant it or was just trying to annoy me. ¡®That¡¯s not how it works,¡¯ I tried to explain, but my thought-voice was lost in the sudden and loud discussion about Jesus Christ and his familiar. Oh well, as far as Last Suppers went, this wasn¡¯t too bad, so I decided that instead of arguing or trying to explain, I should start serving the pancakes. *** Sek Artem wasn¡¯t a port city, although it wasn¡¯t far from the shoreline, only a dozen miles or so. The beaches around here were generally rocky and not easy to traverse, but one could find sections of it that were relatively obstacle free. One such location served as the assembly point for more than two hundred rangers ¡ª some wearing the dark green, hooded capes of Third Rangers, some the blueish green but just as dark capes of Fifth Rangers, and some the orange-tinted green of First Rangers. It was an impressive sight. They stood in well organised lines or units, and I spotted most of the familiar faces: Toven, already exercising his new powers as scout-master first rank, giving orders to some of his men, then Master Fenirig Arte and the masters of the other two ranger corps, standing near the assembled troops along with their aides, probably discussing plans. I spotted Sitanel Niraki and Dimuren Alte among the Fifth Rangers contingent, as well as Tomaron Astar, the elf who had once been a captive on the ork galley, the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride. I stretched a couple of my tentacles so I could see over the heads of the crowd, trying to spot the four elven ships on the sea. They were there, but with the water reflecting the light of the rising sun like a mirror, it was difficult to make out any details, and I certainly couldn¡¯t judge the distance. But it seemed we had a bit more time before the ferrying of the troops would commence. I wasn¡¯t sure why the brass had decided that it was easier for the ships to come around and pick everyone up here as opposed to this small army making their way to whatever port city the navy operated out of. Perhaps they wanted the land-bound rangers to experience the kind of amphibious landing or boarding operation they were expected to perform once we reached the orkish shores. Behind us, on top of the cliffs that stretched as far as I could see in either direction, stood a group of people. They were all near the edge, looking down at the beach, at us, mostly silent. Among them were the ranger trainees: Timo, Arde and Hisa. We had said our goodbyes last night, but they had come to see us off anyway. Devalet Niraki was there too, along with Akela and Loki. She was waving at her husband, who was still busy talking to his men and didn¡¯t see his wife¡¯s last-ditch effort to be noticed by him. I tapped Krissy on her shoulder and asked her to walk over to Toven and tell him to pay a little more attention to his wife. It was the least we could do; despite all the promises of safe return we had all made, none of us really knew what the future held. Military operations were notorious for producing casualties, whether it was here or back on good old Earth, and I could only hope none of our friends would be adding to the numbers. Dani also had a letter Krissy and I had written to Kenta and Tommi ¡ª a simple ¡°goodbye for now¡±, wishing them well as they were settling into their new lives in Solace, and expressing our hope that we¡¯d meet again sometime. That was it; nothing fancy, nothing too emotional. The only people I didn¡¯t see anywhere were the defence committee members, including Master Fenar¡¯s wife, Korolan Mirei. I had kind of expected her to show up, but I guessed our departure didn¡¯t need any oversight from the committee, and if there was anyone amongst the rangers no-one needed to worry about, it was our very own elven Chuck Norris. It took about an hour for the four elven ships to get close enough to the shore for me to see them properly and in detail. I saw as they lowered the dinghies, sailors or marines working the oars diligently, getting closer and closer, ready to pick up the first batch of rangers. ¡®This will take some time,¡¯ I commented. ¡®Yeah. At least the water is calm,¡¯ Krissy said, sighing and turning her head to look up at the people on top of the cliff. She seemed ¡­ a little sad. ¡®Will you miss this place?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Won¡¯t you?¡¯ Chapter Eighty-four Chapter Eighty-four Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was impressed; the Furious Fist was very different from any of the ships she had ever set foot on. Her memories of the Dalar¡¯s Heart were blurry and mostly bad, consisting of the stench and the darkness of the hold, the deplorable people aboard ¡ª Quenta and Tommi the exceptions ¡ª and of course a giant kraken that had appeared out of nowhere to break the ship to bits and pieces. Of the Island Queen she had fond memories, regardless of the fact that it had been an ugly, floating box cobbled together from scraps of the Dalar¡¯s Heart, some trees and Kevin¡¯s spiritual nonsense-glue. And a kraken once again, dragging it down to a watery grave. Still, Krissintha knew that the Island Queen was always going to have a special place in her heart. Then there was The Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride, the ork galley, a little, waterborne piece of hell. Those memories were still fresh compared to the others, and she tried not to think about it at all. The Furious Fist, which had Master Fenar¡¯s daughter, Fenirig Arla as her captain, was a work of art. Everything from the deck-boards and guardrails to the masts and sails were perfectly crafted, delicately ornamented, and she could just picture all the arguments that must have taken place between the craftsmen and the navy people, trying to negotiate a balance between elven aesthetics and robust functionality. Despite lacking any real insight or expertise, she was sure she would not come across a better and more beautiful ship even if she spent the next half of her life looking for one. Krissintha could see the other three ships from the deck as she was leaning against the guardrails, peering into the distance; the Brave Soul, the Dauntless Will, and of course The Righteous Wrath, which had the honour of accommodating captain Rimarle Alas¡¯s ugly-cute dog, Fifi. A pug according to Kevin, although how reliable a drunk familiar was on matters concerning dogs, she wasn¡¯t sure. The shore was getting farther and farther away, and the rangers were settling into their new, shipboard lives for the coming days, all under the watchful eyes of the few marines and sailors who had either taken it upon themselves to supervise the landlubbers, or just had nothing else to do at the moment. The Furious Fist was the second largest ship Krissintha had ever seen ¡ª smaller than the ork galley, but much bigger than the Dalar¡¯s Heart, not to mention the Island Queen. Even so, space was still an issue that led to a number of disagreements between the crew and the passengers, but nothing that a marine officer, higher ranking crew member or a ranger scout-master couldn¡¯t solve with a few, strict words. Master Fenar and his daughter had disappeared somewhere immediately upon boarding ¡ª mediating between grunts was probably beneath a navy captain or a master of rangers ¡ª but Toven was seemingly in his element, whooshing around the quarterdeck, smiling at angry sailors, quelling arguments and yelling at complaining rangers. Krissintha wanted to stay at the edge of the deck a little longer and enjoy the view of the receding coastline, but Kiwa tapped her on her shoulder. ¡®Toven¡¯s eying us,¡¯ she said. Krissintha looked, and the freshly appointed scout-master second rank, owner and protector of the holy tea mug, beckoned them to follow him so they could claim whatever hammocks in whatever dark corner of the ship''s below-deck was going to be theirs to occupy for the duration of the week-long voyage. *** It took less than a day for Krissintha to learn that she was better off spending most of her time on the quarterdeck. The salty but fresh air was a better option than the stuffiness of the hold, where the elves had proved once and for all that they too could smell as bad as humans if enough of them were crammed into small, warm places. At least Kiwa was excited about this development; she insisted they claim a small section near the bow where they could practice using their familiars¡¯ Mana. Krissintha was fine with that ¡ª there wasn¡¯t much else to do on the Furious Fist, a problem the seventy-something rangers aboard also had to deal with, and soon Krissintha and Kiwa weren¡¯t the only ones performing compact versions of sword or spear drills while dodging each other as well as annoyed sailors or marines. By the end of the second day, they fell into a routine: coating their swords with Mana, shooting invisible blades at the sea, or using the limited space to hone their control over their Mana-strengthened bodies. It was awkward, slightly dangerous, but by the third day they had gathered a small crowd of spectators each time they were on the quarterdeck, marines and rangers who were interested to see how spiritualists used the power of their familiars. Krissintha didn¡¯t mind ¡ª she knew that after almost a month of doing nothing she needed the practice. As Master Fenar would say ¡ª paraphrased of course, without all the swearing and name-calling ¡ª ¡°the better you think you are the more room for improvement you have¡±. He was right, more right than she ever wanted to admit. Regardless, she wanted to make sure she was in fighting shape after having the cast removed from her arm only a few days ago, and that her ankle could support her. So, she ignored the audience and followed Kiwa¡¯s instructions as well as the occasional hints from Kevin as to how to direct Mana to do her bidding more efficiently. It was helpful, and she was becoming better and better at using the invisible power to counteract the effects of her freshly healed injuries. Or just her human weaknesses in general. The gentle swaying and sometimes harsher rocking of the ship provided extra opportunities for balance exercises. Kiwa liked those, Krissintha did not. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The familiars were mostly quiet ¡ª she could hear snippets of hushed conversations between the three spirits, most of which revolved around something they called Essence ¡ª which apparently came in different colours ¡ª and ways to change it into other things. She had very little idea what it all meant, and the familiars did their best to keep their discussions quiet. She suspected Kevin had made another of his so called ¡°comm-nodes¡± in order to keep her out of the metaphorical earshot, however that worked. She didn¡¯t mind ¡ª whatever they were up to, it was better to not know. Probably. The fourth and fifth days passed much the same, and it was on the sixth day of the journey that Master Fenar, Captain Fenirig Arla, and the commander of the ship¡¯s marines, Kadavel Beren, called a meeting. *** Krissintha hadn¡¯t been in the captain¡¯s quarters until now; it was off limits to crew, not to mention ranger grunts and stray spiritualists. It was marginally larger than the few other cabins she¡¯d seen, affording moderate comforts to the occupants ¡ª the captain and her father currently ¡ª but the main selling point in her opinion was the kind of privacy ships could seldom provide for their crews. But with ten or so people crammed into the place, the captain¡¯s cabin was losing its allure rather quickly. Kiwa had been right: the quarterdeck was the best place to be, winds, spraying saltwater and exhausting exercises be damned. Looking around at the faces of the gathered officers, she suspected she wasn¡¯t the only one of this opinion. Master Fenar, Tovaron Ento and another ranger whose name she couldn¡¯t recall stood together with her on one side of a table, on which a large map was spread out, the original lines barely visible under red and green markings, probably corrections based on the information extracted from the late Orkuz Graal and the navigational materials found on his galley. Captain Fenirig Arla and three of her officers stood on the opposite side. Krissintha had seen all of them running around the quarterdeck, yelling orders at sailors, but she hadn¡¯t heard their names. Kadavel Beren, the commander of the marine contingent on the ship, had also brought two of his officers with him, and was studying the map intently. Krissintha was sure similar meetings were taking place on the other three ships as well, to make sure everyone knew the plan and their roles in it. ¡®This is roughly where we are, about a day and a half before we get here,¡¯ the captain of the Furious Fist began the meeting, pointing at the map, indicating their current location and then their destination a couple dozen miles off the orkish coast. ¡®Once we reach this point, we¡¯ll ferry a group of rangers to land here. It should be far enough from any barbarian settlements for us to go unnoticed.¡¯ She glanced at her father. ¡®Are you sure you don¡¯t want some marines to go with you?¡¯ Fenar looked like he was about to burst out laughing ¡ª Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure she had ever seen the man laugh. But in the end his face settled back into his normal, slightly annoyed and condescending expression, and he shook his head and said, ¡®They¡¯d just slow us down, and stealth is key. Just make sure you keep this glorified dinghy no more than four miles off the coast as we make our way to the ork harbour. Once we scout it out and give you the go ahead, your marines will have enough work.¡¯ The captain, her officers and even the marines scowled, looking like they were about to unleash a barrage of less than kind words at the Master of Third Rangers. The man himself started smirking, no doubt ready to give them a what for. Captain Fenirig Arla opened her mouth to say something, her eyes cold as ice, but luckily Toven came to the rescue. ¡®We¡¯ll try to keep close to the coastline as we approach the harbour,¡¯ he said, all heads snapping to look at him. He patted Krissintha on her shoulder. ¡®Misery¡¯s familiar said he can now keep his chitchat-thing going at a distance of five miles at least, isn¡¯t that right?¡¯ ¡®Yeah,¡¯ Krissintha said. ¡®They ¡­ uhm ¡­ he worked on improving the ¡­ well, whatever it is that needed improving.¡¯ ¡®You don¡¯t sound very confident, spiritualist,¡¯ the captain remarked, raising her eyebrows looking at her. ¡®In fact, last I¡¯ve seen you, you were acting weird as well, so if there¡¯s something we should know, you¡¯d better tell us now. We don¡¯t want to fuck this up on account of your familiar not feeling well.¡¯ Like father like daughter, Krissintha thought, rude and demanding. But she had a point. Kevin, we¡¯re going to be fine, right? She asked the spirit. As fine as we can be. The answer came. The comm-nodes and the new threads work fine, and we¡¯ve got some extra tricks up our sleeves. You don¡¯t have sleeves. You have tentacles. You know what I mean. Kevin protested. Don¡¯t worry Krissy, and forget my brother. I¡¯ve got this. Hank chimed in. ¡®Yeah, we''ll be fine, everything works as intended,¡¯ Krissintha said, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. ¡®Just don¡¯t go too far from the coast, and we¡¯ll be able to communicate.¡¯ ¡®Good,¡¯ the captain said, and turned back to the gathering. ¡®Once the rangers set up the perimeter to prevent anyone leaving the harbour to take news to the rest of their shitty clan, we¡¯ll commence the assault from land and from sea. Once our marines hold the harbour, we can begin dismantling their shipbuilding capabilities, and the rangers can move on to find our people and make the green bastards regret they were ever born.¡¯ She looked at her father. ¡®My marines will hold the harbour as long as necessary, but try to be fast for once, will you?¡¯ Huh! It seemed Fenirig Arla did have some misgivings about her own father¡¯s handling of things, probably based on experience. But a round of nods showed that everyone was clear on the plan. The meeting then progressed smoothly, discussing more minor details and contingencies, until it degenerated into a contest of who could badmouth the orks better: sailors, marines or rangers. Krissintha thought the marines were winning; beating the colourful words of Kadavel Beren proved to be difficult for everyone else in the room. She had never heard anyone say ¡°son-of-a-toadwhore-shitgreen-fuckface-pissdrinker¡± in one breath, and she hoped she wouldn¡¯t have to again. Another difficult-to-ignore thing was Kevin¡¯s and Hank¡¯s attempts at participating in the contest, pretending she didn¡¯t hear their lovingly crafted but weak insults for the orks, involving mostly mushrooms and someone named Super Mario. Kevin had always been talking a lot of nonsense she didn¡¯t understand, but now there were two of them doing it. Life was strange sometimes. It was both good fortune and bad luck that a sailor barged into the captain¡¯s quarters, panting like he¡¯d just ran a hundred miles. All heads snapped to the poor man, and Fenirig Arla¡¯s expression was a sure sign the sailor was in for an imminent tongue-lashing for interrupting the weirdness the meeting had turned into, but before the captain could get a word out, the man spoke. ¡®Captain! Barbarian ship spotted. About thirty miles starboard.¡¯ Chapter Eighty-five Chapter Eighty-five Ah, being on a ship once again brought back memories. Krakens, for instance, which I had been more than surprised to learn were a thing in this world. Sure, there were old sailor¡¯s stories back on good old Earth about them, but no definitive proof. But here I had seen them with my own tentacles, in fact, I resembled them quite a bit myself. And since Hank had been present at my encounter with one of the giant squidy-things ¡ª plus he had ransacked my memories and knew nearly everything I knew ¡ª he was rather excited about the prospect of meeting one in person. Luckily, and much to his disappointment, the elven sailors seemed one-hundred percent sure there were no such monsters in the waters we were sailing. Besides, we had more pressing issues to deal with, namely the Kevin and Hank Independence Movement, or KHIM for short. His idea, not mine. Our first order of business was to establish a more or less private channel of communications. Krissy and Kiwa were constantly busy, either going through different sword drills and Mana-exercises on the quarterdeck, or complaining about the food, the tight sleeping quarters down in the hold, and about the stench of the dozens of rangers and marines that I was thankfully unable to smell. We didn¡¯t want to disturb them in their activities, so Hank had guided me to create a new communication node inside my body ¡ª sorry, our body ¡ª for KHIM use only, which for the moment consisted of Hank, Tilry and myself. I was sure Krissy would occasionally hear a few stray thoughts leaking out of the node and touching upon the threads connecting me to her, but shipboard life was noisy anyway so I didn¡¯t think it would be a problem. Once that was done, and we were sure our hosts were absorbed enough in their workouts, our brainstorming sessions could begin. *** First, we needed to get the immediate necessities sorted. Problem was that Hank and I had different ideas of what ¡°immediate¡± meant ¡ª he wanted to jump straight to trying to figure out Black Essence so we could enlarge our internal portal, making it possible for him to create and control his own avatar here in physical reality, and as a side effect, to allow me to move my consciousness between here and the Spirit World freely. He also speculated that Black Essence was the key for a spirit to be able to move without a host ¡ª something that was definitely a point of interest to both of us. As such, he started pestering Tilry to give up the Black Essence cube she had received from Wensah. It was a small thing, the size of a normal dice you¡¯d find anywhere from board games to casinos, and Hank insisted he could figure out how to manufacture the substance if he could just get his grabby little tentacles on the thing. Tilry of course was more than just reluctant to give up her only way to feed on souls as well as her ticket out of the physical realm upon the death of her host, and she told Hank, in very polite terms, to sod off and get stuffed. I took Tilry¡¯s side on this matter ¡ª not just because I thought it was unfair to demand this of her at this point, but also because figuring out Black Essence was in the back seat as far as I was concerned. ¡®Look,¡¯ I said to Hank, trying and failing to imitate a proper sigh. ¡®Let¡¯s focus on extending the range of our voice chat, and on the Soul Shields, shall we? That¡¯s more important right now.¡¯ ¡®Oh, brother,¡¯ he purred like a grumpy lion. ¡®It¡¯s almost as if you aren¡¯t taking our movement seriously. Our victory comes at a price, and we should be prepared to pay it!¡¯ ¡®Oh come on, that¡¯s a load of bollocks! You make it sound like we¡¯re some weird terrorist organisation about to blow up a train station,¡¯ I protested. ¡®I prefer the word ¡°gobbledigook¡±, and no, we¡¯re not doing a jihad, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about,¡¯ he sang the words. ¡®It¡¯s about our own, personal freedom, bro.¡¯ ¡®What¡¯s a ¡°jihad¡±?¡¯ Tilry asked before I could tell Hank that our personal freedom of movement ¡ª while important ¡ª could wait a few more days, since keeping all of us alive was slightly higher on my list of priorities. ¡®Just one of the nasty things humans do when they have too much time and hate on their hands. Don¡¯t worry about it, love,¡¯ Hank explained, no doubt according to the memories he had plundered from me. Tilry flinched. I doubted she was used to tentacle horrors calling her ¡°love¡±. I would have flinched, too. ¡®Well, regardless, let¡¯s focus on the voice-chat and shields. Can we agree on that?¡¯ I demanded. ¡®Fine, bro, fine.¡¯ Hank gave up, and Tilry visibly relaxed now that she wasn¡¯t in danger of losing her Black Essence to the tentacles of a flirty monstrosity. Oh, how wrong this all sounded in my mind was incredible. I had to give it to Hank though: once he calmed down and put his newly built mind to it, he displayed a staggering amount of knowledge about our spiritual body and communicated it fairly efficiently. ¡®Alright, listen up kids! We will need tons of Essence, and a way to store it as well as the finished products,¡¯ he began. ¡®Alright bro, show me how you make those threads for communication.¡¯ The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Not that he didn¡¯t know, but I obliged. I took a tiny bit of Essence, then an equal amount of Mana, and a microscopic bit of Spirit Stuff from my own body. I kneaded the Essence and Spirit Stuff together as if I was making noodles, forced the Mana to permeate it, and willed it to change the thread and impart the desired characteristics to it. Mana was the most useful and multipurpose substance ever, and it was almost unbelievable that I still didn¡¯t know how my body produced it from Essence. I presented the metre long spider silk-like thread to my audience. Tilry gawked at it, clearly impressed, but Hank just hummed for a few seconds, then said, ¡®That was fucking inefficient, and it looks as durable as wet cardboard. Bro, you suck at this.¡¯ ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯ I asked, suddenly angry. How dare he disparage my efforts? As far as I was concerned, it was a perfectly serviceable comm-thread, and I could make at least two miles worth of the stuff using no more than 100 EP, 100 MP, and a pinch of Spirit Stuff. Inefficient my ass. ¡®Oh, for the love of all tasty souls, I will have to teach you from scratch, won¡¯t I?¡¯ he moaned like a schoolteacher who just realised the class he had been assigned to teach was a collection of the dumbest kids in the whole city. ¡®Listen, for that much Essence and Mana we should be able to make at least five miles of threads.¡¯ ¡®Fine. Show me then!¡¯ I said, hoping he¡¯d fail. Hank didn¡¯t have any control over our tentacles, so he began giving me instructions, and as much as I wished to prove him wrong, I did everything he told me to without trying to sabotage it. His instructions were sometimes precise, sometimes contradictory, but mostly just difficult to follow because they required a high level of mental dexterity ¡ª willing Mana to do simple things like forming a shield or coat my tentacles was easy, getting it to do complex transformations of Essence was not. And while I was struggling to produce the threads the way he wanted me to, he was explaining things to Tilry. ¡®Listen love, the way we connect to our hosts is similar. We have a tentacle stuck in Krissy¡¯s soul, and you have ¡­ whatever that tail thing is in Kiwa, right? So, part of the threads exists within our own bodies, and a part of them within their souls. Which means they¡¯re protected from the influence of the physical world. They won¡¯t dissipate even if they¡¯re made of pure Essence. My brother then decided that adding material from our own body and using Mana to change the mix was the way to go. Well, it is one way to go. The stupid way.¡¯ ¡®Oi!¡¯ I grunted at him, but he ignored me. ¡®There is no need for any Spirit Stuff, really, there are better uses for it than simple comm-threads. And if by some miracle he manages to get this right, then we can do a better thread with half the Essence and Mana,¡¯ he explained as condescendingly as possible and no doubt enjoying it. But condescending or not, I was struggling, and as the minutes passed, I was beginning to think it really would take a miracle to get this right. Hank had taken an issue with using Spirit Stuff ¡ª the bloody spirit-nerd ¡ª and insisted that I should just incorporate Mana into the thread instead of only using it to change the Essence. Well, that was easier said than done. Sure, in theory it was a good idea ¡ª it would result in twice as much thread. But Mana ¡ª while made of Essence like everything else ¡ª didn¡¯t really want to stay and do more work as part of the thread. Mana was kind of lazy. Actually, lazy wasn¡¯t the right word. Mana was strong in a strange way; it responded to will, and it was the only substance I knew of that could interact with both the physical and the spiritual. But it was unstable. Using Mana-glove or Mana-armour had an MP/minute cost precisely because it would break down and evaporate if I didn¡¯t keep the Mana constructs constantly replenished. I really didn¡¯t see how it would stay in the thread without a little Spirit Stuff to hold everything together. It was the same case with my world-famous spirit-glue, which I had been using with astonishing success when building ships and wheelchairs. But I did my best to try and do what Hank wanted. Simple enough as a concept but quite difficult to do. At least at first. I had to merge Essence and Mana together, then get Mana to do two separate things while the merger was taking place. The first of those things was the usual: imbue the Essence thread with the ability to conduct thoughts. The second was to make it mimic Spirit Stuff and act as its own bonding agent, holding the thread together instead of just disappearing. I spent the whole day trying to get it right; individually none of them were too difficult to do, but doing them at the same time required more finesse than coordinating the movements of all my tentacles. Then again, I had managed to master the Way of the Tentacle, so I was increasingly confident that I¡¯d be able to manage this too, then practice it to the point it became muscle-memory so to speak, and I¡¯d be able to do it with little to no mental effort. When I finally produced the first ten-or-so metres of the new type of thread, I wanted to jump up and down with joy. It was evening already, and Krissy and Kiwa were down in the hold, trying to get into their hammocks without knocking any of the rangers they were sharing a space with out of theirs. They noticed something was going on. Yep, my new comm-node was a little leaky, but I couldn¡¯t get myself to care about that. What are you so happy about? Krissy asked using the voice-chat, so as to not disturb her temporary shipmates as they were trying to rest. Before I could answer, Hank spoke. ¡®We¡¯ve extended our communication range from two miles to at least five. Maybe more,¡¯ he said, using our original comm-node so our hosts could hear him properly. He sounded as proud as if it was solely his achievement. ¡®I worked hard,¡¯ I groaned, and I wanted to say more to explain that I was the one who had done the bulk of the work. But the words, the thoughts, just wouldn¡¯t come. I was tired. For the first time, I realised. It was a weird feeling. Ever since I had become a spirit, I had not felt tired. Not having a physical body meant I didn¡¯t need sleep, I didn¡¯t rest. It turned out mental fatigue was a thing after all, and having done all this work with Mana and Essence felt like the equivalent of a twelve-hour leg day at the gym. ¡®Yeah, yeah, you worked hard. Good boy,¡¯ Hank cooed, imitating a stereotypical annoying aunt speaking to her three-year-old nephew. And I didn¡¯t have the energy to retort. Aw hell. Then my vision started to fade. That was unusual. My vision only faded when I willed it to do so. What was happening? ¡®Tomorrow we¡¯ll move onto your Soul Shield thingy, so get some sleep, bro, we¡¯ll need you in tip-top shape, alright?¡¯ Sleep? What sleep? I had only slept once, and that had only happened due to being intoxicated by Black Essence. I didn¡¯t need sleep. Then I fell asleep. Chapter Eighty-six Chapter Eighty-six I wasn¡¯t exactly sure when it was that I had waken up, but my vision returned, and it sure didn¡¯t feel anything like the memories I had of opening my eyes. I had a distinct urge to yawn ¡ª probably a leftover feature from my time as a human ¡ª but I was unable to do so. Disappointing. On the other hand, I was feeling rather good, refreshed even, all without having the need or the ability to consume coffee, so that was good. Hm. Sleeping. Shit! I¡¯d been sleeping. Hank! Oh no! I had left everyone alone with the idiot-horror. Without being conscious and able to curb his hunger or preventing him from taking over our body. How long had I been out? I stretched all my tentacles ¡ª luckily, I was still in control of them ¡ª to have a good look at my surroundings It was morning, judging by the reddish sunshine the quarterdeck was bathing in. Krissy and Kiwa were sitting on a box under one of the masts ¡ª along with Tilry and a dozen rangers ¡ª eating something that looked liked porridge and bacon for breakfast. Phew, that was a relief. It was a quiet morning by shipboard standards; the breeze was weak, the sea was calm, the deck was filled with living people as opposed to corpses robbed of their souls, doing their morning routines. The usual cawing of the seagull-like birds was absent, but I didn¡¯t think that had anything to do with Hank. Maybe we were far enough from any landmass for them to give up following the Furious Fist and the other ships. ¡®Oh, look who¡¯s awake! Rise and shine, brother!¡¯ Hank greeted me with irritating cheerfulness. ¡®What did you do?¡¯ I shot the question at him. He must have been up to no good while I was out. ¡®Whatever do you mean, bro?¡¯ he asked, feigning innocence. I stretched my tentacles out even more, checking the decks below as much as I could, looking for dead sailors or marines. I saw none. ¡®Oh ye of little faith! I¡¯m Hank,¡¯ he complained as he observed my effort to incriminate him. ¡®Exactly!¡¯ ¡®Do you really think so little of me?¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re a Tentacle Horror,¡¯ I growled at him. ¡®So are you, for all intents and purposes,¡¯ he retorted. ¡®Tilry, is everything okay? Did he do something? Anything?¡¯ I turned to Kiwa¡¯s familiar. Who seemed to be just fine. ¡®We¡¯re fine. He¡¯s done nothing. I mean he¡¯s done something, but nothing bad,¡¯ Tilry spoke, her voice a little tired. ¡®Alright, listen bro, we have been busy while you were snoring away, so cut us some slack, will you?¡¯ Hank demanded. I was not snoring. Krissy interjected, as some of our words leaked out from our KHIM node, probably thinking we were talking about her. I demand you all return to talking through the same ¡­ what was it? Comm-node? Yes. I demand you all return to the same comm-node you use with me! I don¡¯t like it when my familiars keep secrets. ¡®Hey, we are not you¡¯re familiars. I am your familiar. Me and no-one else.¡¯ I protested that statement immediately, using our original comm-node. ¡®Hank is ¡­¡¯ ¡®¡­ is a free spirit. Bound to hosts for lifetimes doesn¡¯t suit me anyway,¡¯ he finished my sentence and not at all the way I had intended to finish it ¡ª he left out the part ¡°Hank is an asshole and not suitable to be anyone¡¯s familiar or brother¡±. Not to mention that as long as we occupied the same spiritual body, he was bound to the same host as I was for as long as I was. Free spirit in one way, not so free in another. So? What are you two plotting? Krissy asked, chewing on the piece of meat I still believed was bacon, or the closest thing to it I¡¯d seen in this world. Actually, what are you three plotting? Kiwa butted in to the discussion. Tilry? I heard you talking with the weird ones. ¡®The weird ones?¡¯ Hank and I asked at the same time, our tones matching in carrying the same amount of indignation. Unnerving. ¡®Twinsies!¡¯ Hank yelled happily, and I groaned in spiritual pain. I should have seen it coming. ¡®We have determined my level,¡¯ Tilry stated. ¡®Oh yeah? What level are you?¡¯ I asked, suddenly interested. ¡®She is Level 4 if we go by the number of times she¡¯d eaten a soul and grown, but around Level 18 if we go by her overall size as well as her Essence and Mana storage capacity. It turns out not all spirits are equal by nature.¡¯ ¡®Well, I know as much,¡¯ I said. ¡®I know,¡¯ he giggled, and I was sure he was grinning mentally. ¡®Her Essence Pool can store about 38 EP, her Mana Pool about 25 MP, which is about what we had when we were Level 18. Now, she is your run-of-the-mill familiar spirit, just the way spirits are meant to be. Her body works differently than us evil spirits ¡­¡¯ ¡®Wild spirits,¡¯ I corrected him. I was still convinced the word ¡°evil¡± shouldn¡¯t be used that lightly. ¡®That¡¯s what I said: wild spirits.¡¯ Hank didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡®When she consumes a soul with the help of some Black Essence, her body uses it differently. Instead of putting it into body-mass, she uses most of it to enlarge her pools, which is fine, but it¡¯s at the expense of Essence collection rates. She has four arms to absorb Essence from the air, and they¡¯ve been roughly the same size since her last two level-ups. We, on the other hand, have ten tentacles, growing steadily, so we have a much larger overall surface area through which we absorb Essence. We collect 15 EP/minute while my dearest Tilry here collects only 3 to 4. We, brother, have the natural advantage in almost everything. At least individually.¡¯ ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ Tilry inquired. ¡®There are a lot less of our kind, the average wild spirit isn¡¯t exactly a team-player, and the gods can rally all their associated familiars to bring them down if need be.¡¯ ¡®Or gods being gods, they can just smite them out of existence themselves,¡¯ I commented, remembering Wensah¡¯s threats of exactly that. ¡®You know what? I don¡¯t think gods are actually that dangerous,¡¯ Hank said with a wondering voice. Oh, this did not sound good, strong famous last words vibe. ¡®What do you mean? Gods are gods. Grand spirits or whatever, right? Isn¡¯t that the very definition of ¡°powerful¡± and ¡°dangerous¡±?¡¯ I asked, quite uncomfortable with the topic. Doubting what someone like Wensah could do was sure to be the first step towards tragedy. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡®I mean, yeah, sure, but only in the Spirit World,¡¯ he explained. ¡®Being able to move and act freely over there while the rest of the rubble is unable to do so, does make them dangerous. That, and their ability to produce Black Essence from all the Essence-tax they¡¯re collecting. But unlike over there, I think they¡¯re limited by how much Black Essence and Mana they¡¯re able to dispense through their avatars here in the physical world.¡¯ ¡®A lot more than we can,¡¯ I offered my assessment of the issue. ¡®Yep, a lot more then we can. At least for now,¡¯ Hank said, not in the least bit discouraged. ¡®But once their avatar is destroyed or otherwise disabled, I think they wouldn¡¯t be able to do a thing in the particular time and location.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s a big but,¡¯ I mused. ¡®Otherwise disabled?¡¯ Tilry chimed in with a question of her own. ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m one hundred percent sure they maintain their connection to their avatars the same way we do.¡¯ ¡®The Black Essence portal inside,¡¯ I said, realising what he was getting at. ¡®Precisely. You¡¯re not as stupid as you look, brother,¡¯ he said with the kind of sickening affection in his voice you might hear from a disappointed father who knew his son was an utter failure, but still did his best to love him anyway. The fact that I had heard this from Wensah every time she showed up, did not help. ¡®If we whack that portal-thing hard enough, the connection will be gone and I think the avatar will just ¡­ stop.¡¯ Hank finished presenting his theory. ¡®Or maybe even start a miniature Essence-apocalypse and it would break down the avatar completely along with everything and everyone in the vicinity.¡¯ I added. ¡®Yeah, that could happen,¡¯ Hank said excitedly, not even the least bit fazed. ¡®Or we could even have a drunk god, like it happened to you.¡¯ That wasn¡¯t something I would have liked to see. Krissy had been listening patiently, mostly focusing on her food, and I doubted she understood half of what had been said. But the words ¡°drunk¡± and ¡°god¡± in the same sentence had caught her attention. Alright, listen you two. She said as she swallowed the last spoonful of her porridge along with the last bite of bacon. I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about, but drunk Kevin was bad enough, and if you¡¯re thinking of getting a god drunk, I swear I will ¡­ ¡®Oh, don¡¯t you worry about that, we¡¯re not going to go around getting gods drunk.¡¯ Hank tried to calm Krissy in a hurry. ¡®Even if we wanted to, we couldn¡¯t. Can¡¯t move around without you, remember?¡¯ I added, just to make sure she wouldn¡¯t blow up and give us half an hour¡¯s worth of angry lectures on standards of behaviour. ¡®Anyway, this tangent has been long enough, and it has nothing to do with the matter at hand, does it? Soul Sheilds for everyone, remember?¡¯ ¡®Actually, it does,¡¯ Hank said, and I could just picture him shaking his metaphorical head in pity for the fool who didn¡¯t understand these spiritual matters. Well, tough, not everyone was a born Tentacle Horror, then getting a mental stat-boost thanks to munching on an exceptional soul like mine. ¡®It does, huh? In the most roundabout way possible, I assume?¡¯ I asked, making sure to cram as much indignation into my voice as possible. I could feel Hank¡¯s attention turning to Tilry, wanting to address her instead of me. ¡®Allow me to explain my findings, love, and forgive me for using lay terms. I need to make sure my mentally challenged but well-meaning brother is able to grasp it as well.¡¯ It was at this point I felt an almost irresistible urge to unleash my inner Cain on my self-proclaimed brother. *** Krissy and Kiwa had enough of our bickering-slash-discussing of spiritual matters, and I couldn¡¯t blame them for changing their minds and asking us to go back to using our private KHIM channel. They had their exercise routine for the day ¡ª worked out by Kitala Iwani in order to maximise the limited space available ¡ª and marines and sailors were enough of a distraction, as some of them would stop and glare at the spiritualists doing spiritualist things on the ship. Our hosts didn¡¯t need our constant and annoying background noise on top of that. Surprisingly, the rangers on board ¡ª not just Toven but others as well ¡ª had proved to be good teammates whenever the sailors were giving the girls the stink-eyes. They stood up for them, proclaiming that they were one of them, and had done more for Solace in two weeks than all tarlickers in a year combined. That never eased the tension, but I was glad our hosts had such support. I was almost sad that we had to leave Solace behind. But I comforted myself with the thought that if we survived whatever Wensah ¡ª or Sivera for that matter ¡ª had waiting for us on the continent, we might be able to return, and if Krissy so desired, we could not only settle there but be welcome and respected members of elven society. But that was something to worry about later. Right now, I had to suffer through Hank¡¯s condescension-drenched lecture on spiritual stuff. Fine, I could act like a good little pushover for a little longer. Unfortunately, almost everything he presented made sense. So, apparently Tilry¡¯s level and eating habits were connected to our Soul Shield project ¡ª in a roundabout way as I had suspected. Hank had looked into how I was able to break a soul down while Tilry wasn¡¯t. It was one of those things our body just did without any conscious control or knowledge on our part, much like how a human heart would beat, or how a stomach would produce digestive acids without the person ever being aware of it. As it turned out, I had more invisible organs than I knew about. One of those organs was taking a little bit of Essence from my primary pool on the regular, turning it into something that would liquefy a soul, making it ready for consumption. Hank proposed that we learn how to make larger amounts of this spiritual digestive acid, or enzyme, or whatever the word was, and use it to feed and level Tilry. On top of that, he was sure it could make compressed Essence materials more malleable and easier to work with, and as a result I could craft better shields and armour for ourselves and for the souls of our hosts. I had to admit, it was a good idea, and while I still had to spend time to practice making the new comm-thread, I was rather excited about the new set of experiments before us. *** It took me a full day filled with intense bouts of concentration to start getting a feel for this so far unknown organ, and for the weird type of substance it produced. It definitely had Essence as its base, but whatever that organ did to it, changed it into something that was more akin to Mana than anything else. But it was lighter or less dense ¡ª if those words could even be applied to something immaterial ¡ª and it just felt wrong. While Mana was a jack-of-all-trades substance just waiting to be instructed to do something, this enzyme-thing had one thing in mind: to melt anything it touched. Well, anything spiritual, as it had no effect whatsoever on anything physical. And despite all the similarities, it didn¡¯t mix with Mana at all, instead, it would repel it like oil repelled water. Both Hank and I thought there might be some sort of application for this quality as well. It took us another day and night to study this, until we had a clear picture of how it all worked, and what we could do with it. The process looked like this: I¡¯d catch a soul, the organ would send out a small amount of the enzyme, it would enter into the captured soul through my tentacles. And it would turn said soul into a mush which I could absorb. Lovely. And how did we study this process without any souls on the ship we could sacrifice on the altar of science? Fishing. How else? We were at sea after all. I mean, sticking my tentacles through the ship¡¯s hull and into the water, then grabbing the souls of the brave fishes that dared to come close enough to the Furious Fist, probably didn¡¯t qualify as fishing at all. But I was sure people would still do it if they could, even if true fishing enthusiasts would definitely declare the method heretical. But who knew, maybe it would catch on in places like Australia? The fishes I caught were ¡­ less than nutritious, despite some of them being quite big like tuna, providing me an average of 5 to 10 EXP each. While fish-souls weren¡¯t as slippery as I had expected, what surprised me the most was the taste: they tasted like fish. After learning that human souls tasted like toothpaste, elves like honey-cheescake and orks like mushrooms, it was a pleasant surprise. I had always been fond of sushi and sashimi, and fish-souls were quite the similar experience. I needed to find a creature whose soul tasted like soy-sauce, then I could delve more into the culinary side of soul based dining. Tilry was suitably terrified ¡ª watching us build a small storage organ inside our avatar body was probably like watching a horror movie featuring chainsaws and guts flying everywhere. But it was necessary: we couldn¡¯t figure out how to make the Enzyme, so Hank and I decided that tricking the organ into producing it more, then store the surplus in the new storage pool, was the way to go. Instead of mucking around inside our main body, conducting the construction through the tiny, internal Black Essence portal, we opted to create the new pool inside our avatar here in the material world. It was a small pool anyway, the Enzyme-organ was inside the avatar as well, plus we didn¡¯t want to accidentally dissolve ourselves. It was the sensible thing to do. The Enzyme Pool was small, made of a similar spiritual composite as Jack¡¯s Room or the Spirit Room, but I coated the inside with Mana to Enzyme-proof it. It wasn¡¯t a lot of work, as I had plenty of experience building pools. Making an internal pipe from a combination of Essence and Mana was simple enough, and I was ready to funnel all the Enzyme into its new home. And lo and behold, soon the new pool was full. This was progress. Pretty good progress. And the next step was to get Tilry ¡ª who was living proof that spirits had the ability to look like they were about to throw up ¡ª to eat some predigested fish so she could grow, and then we could work on the damn Soul-Shields finally. Chapter Eighty-seven Chapter Eighty-seven. Tilry was clearly having second thoughts about this; she was staring at the gooey, almost free-flowing fish-soul I was holding up to her with two of my Mana-gloved danger-noodles. Despite her lack of facial features, I could tell she was half-disgusted, half-terrified and one hundred percent questioning her life choices that had led her to this moment. ¡®Come on, Tilry, it¡¯s not going to hurt. It tastes fine.¡¯ I tried to encourage her, considering the half-digested soul would dissipate in about ten seconds. ¡®Be brave, love, this is for your own good. And your levels,¡¯ Hank said to her, his deep, ghostly voice softer than usual. The familiar hung her head, looking down at her exhausted, sleeping host in the hammock stretching between two posts, and let out a sound I was sure was a sigh of resignation. She looked at my avatar body, then reached out with one of her four arms to touch the liquefied soul. The moment she did, her arm started absorbing the soul-soup, slowly at first, but after a few seconds it just flowed into her like water going down the drain of a bathtub. And that was it. She flinched ¡ª a few seconds too late in my opinion ¡ª and then looked around as if to check if anyone had witnessed the atrocity she had just committed. Well, even if it wasn¡¯t the middle of the night with everyone sleeping as uncomfortably as possible ¡ª with the exception of those on different watch duties up on the quarterdeck ¡ª the only ones who could see spiritual shenanigans were the three of us: Hank, Tilry and myself. ¡®How do you feel?¡¯ I asked the familiar. ¡®I feel ¡­ fine,¡¯ she replied after some hesitation. ¡®Do you feel full?¡¯ I inquired further. ¡®Uh ¡­ no. I¡¯d need ten times as much before I could ¡­ grow,¡¯ she stated, clearly not comfortable. I could tell this wasn¡¯t an everyday experience for her, especially under the current circumstances. ¡®Well, not to worry, love, where we¡¯re going there¡¯ll plenty of souls to go around, so be prepared to reach puberty,¡¯ Hank commented cheerfully. He was awfully happy about the success of our first attempt at feeding Tilry. Maybe he really did like the familiar for some reason. Well, she wasn¡¯t my type, so I didn¡¯t mind even if he did. Oh! My! God! Not Wensah, the good old Earth-god. When had I started thinking about spirits in terms of being my type or not? This was worrying. Was I going full native? Again? I mean, sure, Tilry was easy on the eyes as far as spirits went ¡ª her appearance was feminine enough on account of subconsciously adapting to mimic her previous hosts, all of them women. But in reality, spirits were neither men nor women. They were spirits. They didn¡¯t even reproduce like humans or elves did, they just popped into existence from the Essence permeating the Spirit World. I decided to bury these thoughts as deep in the dark recesses of my mind as I could, and focus on important matters. ¡®Alright, this worked. What¡¯s next? Can we move onto the Soul Shields now?¡¯ I rapid-fired the words, and to show I meant business, I brought out the small and thin sheet of Essence-armour from my Spirit Room. Tilry leaned closer to observe the object, and poked at it. Just as before, the material didn¡¯t let her finger pass through it, then, as if it was a door, she started knocking on it. ¡®Who¡¯s there?¡¯ I asked. ¡®A stupid earthling who hasn¡¯t yet realised his jokes make no sense in this world,¡¯ Hank answered, while Tilry just looked around confused. ¡®You¡¯d be the worst of all brothers if you were actually my brother.¡¯ ¡®A fact I¡¯m proud of.¡¯ Hank sent a mental grin my way. ¡®Thank god I¡¯m an only child.¡¯ I sighed. ¡®So ¡­ what about the armour?¡¯ Tilry decided it was time someone put a stop to our quasi-brotherly quarrel and focus on things that mattered. ¡®It¡¯s solid, but will you be able to make more of it? Or shape it into something like that weird spirit-costume you had?¡¯ ¡®Sure, I¡¯ll just need to spit on it. Like a lot,¡¯ I said cheerfully. ¡®Spit?¡¯ the familiar and my obnoxious roommate asked at the same time. Happy that I managed to catch Hank off guard for once, I savoured his momentary confusion with glee, and before he could figure out the riddle ¡ª which he would in a matter of seconds ¡ª I decided to demonstrate. I tapped into my brand-new storage organ and sent a considerable amount of Enzyme to the tip of the tentacle that held the armour-sheet. It took only a second for the digestive goo to cover it. It really was like spitting as far as I was concerned, and I smiled inside my soul. I let go of the lot ¡ª the sheet remained suspended in the air as gravity wasn¡¯t something spiritual objects had to worry about. ¡®Ta-dah! Let¡¯s see if this works as intended,¡¯ I said, and I slowly and carefully touched the sheet with a tentacle, coated with Mana to prevent it from trying to absorb it. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The sheet had become softer, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken it had swollen a bit, like dry wood after soaking in water for a while. But unlike wood ¡ª wet or dry ¡ª the compressed Essence was bending and morphing under my touch a lot easier than before, and I knew that now I didn¡¯t have to worry about shape and form when making the material. I could make small pieces or panels of this stuff, then use the Enzyme in conjunction with some good old-fashioned spirit-glue and build and shape shield and armour for us all. The only problem was the amount of Essence I needed to make the spirit-kevlar, and that was the next challenge we needed to tackle. Hank was ready to tackle it, and by tackling it he meant refurbishing some of the rooms in the house. *** I kind of lost count of the days and nights. Hank was a typical manager, dishing out impossible and contradicting instructions and expecting the workforce to do everything. I was seriously considering taking this to HR, or to start a union or something. I wondered if employment laws and lawyers would be a hit in the Spirit World. It was so busy I even forgot to talk to Krissy for the following days, but not to worry, Mr Manager was there to make sure our host was periodically reminded that we were still here. Krissy and Kiwa were largely unaware of our undertakings and focused on their daily exercises, weapon maintenance and occasional interactions with rangers, sailors and marines. But it was all for the greater good, and despite my internal grumblings, I couldn¡¯t complain about the progress we were making. Thinning the unnecessarily thick walls of all my self-made pools, enlarging my secondary Essence pool under strict managerial supervision to avoid causing problems in our body, practicing making the new comm-thread during breaks, and of course catching some more fish for Tilry to enjoy ¡ª had I possessed a head, I would have felt like it was spinning. My secondary Essence Pool doubled in size, going from 35 EP to a 70 EP capacity, which I was ecstatic about, right until Hank suggested that we somehow move that pool to the outside of our body, invoking things like ¡°external hard-drives¡± to encourage me to agree to it. Maybe it was just my old, human sensibilities, but I kind of thought of this as akin to having my stomach or my guts on the outside, and I wasn¡¯t sure I liked the idea. On the other hand, I felt and knew that we couldn¡¯t significantly increase the size of it any further if it stayed inside our body. So, I considered this. And I still said no. With the two Essence pools I thought we had enough to start working on actual armour ¡ª I mean, a total of about 140 EP was nothing to sneeze at, and with a collection rate of 15 EP per minute, I didn¡¯t think we had to worry about refills. Tilry seemed fascinated by the process of using Mana to compress Essence into denser and denser sheets and doing weird structural alterations even I didn¡¯t fully understand ¡ª I supposed it was up to Mana how it interpreted and imposed my will on those sheets. When I realised that some of the Mana I used for the process actually stayed embedded in the sheets instead of evaporating, it shouldn¡¯t have surprised me ¡ª based on everything I had learned, it was predictable. Regardless, things were going well. Slowly, but well. And since we weren¡¯t preparing to outfit a whole army, that was just fine. After five days of blood, sweat and fishing, our prototype shields were ready. But before testing them, we decided to take the time to witness Tilry¡¯s levelling up, as she was finally ready to do so without having to eat the soul of a dead host. The thirty or so fishes that had given their lives for this noble purpose would not be forgotten. Tilry¡¯s level-up was ¡­ quick and underwhelming. At least for us, spectators. I was pretty sure her four arms grew a little, a couple of inches each maybe, but that was all I could see. It probably meant a slight increase in the speed of her Essence collection. After a few questions and tests, we determined that her Essence pool¡¯s capacity went up from 38 EP to 41 EP, and her Mana pool from 25 MP to about 29 MP. That was good growth, and with all done and observed, it was time to see what our new shields could do. *** ¡®Well, they¡¯re not much to look at,¡¯ Tilry commented. I stifled the harsh, angry response that wanted to escape me, and pretended to take a deep breath. She wasn¡¯t wrong, and she certainly didn¡¯t deserve to hear the first thoughts coming into my mind. The problem was that no matter how much I had tried to make the shields look like shields, they had ended up looking as if a toddler had decided to hammer crumpled tinfoil over the surface of a large ball with a toy hammer, then cut the thing in half, each half resulting in a shield-thing. As much as I wished to blame it on Hank and his sometimes incomprehensible suggestions, I could only blame myself, for I was the toddler, and my tenties were the toy hammers. Unfortunate, but it was the best I could do. ¡®That¡¯s my brother for you,¡¯ Hank said, sounding almost happy and overly self-satisfied. ¡®If there is something to be done incorrectly, he¡¯ll do it.¡¯ ¡®Fuk yu! Eat eat eat! I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ I shot my best retort at him. ¡®Oi, that¡¯s not fair,¡¯ he complained immediately. ¡®Don¡¯t bring my embarrassing childhood mishaps into this!¡¯ ¡®Oh, so you do remember, huh?¡¯ ¡®Unfortunately.¡¯ He was a lot quieter as he spoke now. ¡®Hm. Then do me a favour and get off my back, will you? I did my best, and if you don¡¯t like it, then go fu¡­¡¯ ¡®Alright, alright.¡¯ He gave up finally. ¡®Looks aside, it will do the job. Right, Tilry?¡¯ ¡®Right.¡¯ Tilry agreed with as much conviction in her voice as befitting someone who was determined not to take sides and keep as quiet as possible. ¡®So, you said we¡¯ll need to test these ¡­ shield-things. How?¡¯ How was a good question, and I was sure Tilry was not going to like the answer, for Hank¡¯s genius idea was to get her to hold one of the half-spherical Essence-abominations, and I¡¯d hit it as hard as I could with everything I had. Now, I was confident the feminine familiar would be safe ¡ª I had at least that much trust in my own handiwork ¡ª but I didn¡¯t want to see her relapsing into her past state of being terrified of me. Being in the almost constant presence of a Tentacle Horror that could smash her up and eat her any moment, had taken some time for her to get used to, even more time to get comfy and open up a bit. I didn¡¯t want to undo that. Lucky for her, a sailor appeared on the part of the quarterdeck where our hosts were doing some sort of meditative exercise that was supposed to help with controlling Mana. The man requested their presence for a meeting in the captain¡¯s cabin, and Krissy and Kiwa followed him to Captain Fenirig Arla¡¯s quarters. None of us spirits paid much attention to the meeting ¡ª it was mostly a recap of previous meetings, probably to make sure everyone knew the plan and their places in it. The only interesting thing was the father-daughter duo of Fenar and Fenar, and a brief contest to see who could come up with the best insults for orks. Throughout the meeting we were quietly trying to ease Tilry into the idea of being our product-tester, right until another sailor burst into the room, saying, ¡®Captain! Barbarian ship spotted. About thirty miles starboard.¡¯ Chapter Eighty-eight Chapter Eighty-eight Captain Fenirig Arla rushed out of her cabin to the quarterdeck, and all hell broke loose. For a few minutes at least. She barked orders at her subordinates on her way to the stairs to the forecastle, and the Furious Fist suddenly looked like someone had just kicked a large hornets¡¯ nest. Elves sprung up from everywhere as the officers scattered yelling orders, sailors rushing up the rigging, adjusting the sails and other things, the marines taking their preassigned positions, while all the rangers just stood around like idiots, scratching their heads as it was all unfolding. After that, the reality of a ship-chase began to divert from my imagination; once every crew member was where they were supposed to be, everything calmed down and returned to business as usual. I should have expected this; the ork ship was some thirty miles away, and to think this was going to be as intense as something like a car chase in a Hollywood action flick from start to finish, was foolish. ¡®Is this it?¡¯ Hank asked as Krissy and Kiwa followed the captain, the marine in charge and Master Fenar up the stairs to the forecastle. I didn¡¯t say anything. He¡¯d figure it out. Then, we all came to a stop at the edge of the platform. The captain and one of her officers both produced spyglasses to take a closer look at our opponent. I stretched a few of my tentacles out to do the same, but I couldn¡¯t see anything except the horizon where the sea met the sky, a few clouds, and nothing else. ¡®There you are,¡¯ Captain Fenirig Arla muttered, then turned to the officer standing next to her. ¡®About twenty-five miles, not thirty.¡¯ I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised she could see it ¡ª elven eyesight was something else ¡ª but I still wondered how the hell they could even tell it was an ork ship. I mean, twenty-five miles was twenty-five miles, almost forty kilometres if I calculated that correctly. I didn¡¯t think a human could even notice a ship at a distance longer than ten kilometres, even in the clearest, most beautiful weather, and even if the ship was as large as a tanker or a container ship. ¡®I don¡¯t think they have noticed us yet,¡¯ the officer said to the captain, still looking through his spyglass. Another two sailors jogged up the stairs to join us: one of them an officer, maybe, the other carrying a bunch of small flags. They walked to the port-side of the platform and after ten seconds of peering through his spyglass, the officer reported his findings. ¡®Signals from the Righteous Wrath. Chase. We¡¯re going to chase them down.¡¯ ¡®Makes sense,¡¯ Captain Fenar hummed, sounding pleased, then she ordered the man, ¡®Signal acknowledged!¡¯ The guy with the flags quickly selected two of them, one blue one orange, and he waved them around for a while, repeating a simple pattern I deduced meant ¡°acknowledged¡±. Of the other three elven ships, the Righteous Wrath was the closest to us, less than a kilometre by my estimate, and I could see its shape clearly. I could even see people, but at this distance they looked like ants crawling up and down a piece of wood. I was sure our signal-guy¡¯s counterparts on the other ships were waving their flags, too, but to see that kind of detail would have required me to have elven eyes and a spyglass instead of tentacles. ¡®Captain, the barbarian ship¡¯s turning,¡¯ the officer who had been watching the enemy all this time reported. The captain looked through her spyglass again and verified the report. ¡®They must have noticed us,¡¯ she said calmly, then checked a pocket compass I hadn¡¯t noticed she had, then kept observing the enemy ship for a few more minutes, then stated, ¡®They¡¯re heading back. Wind¡¯s good, we¡¯ll catch the fuckers, before they¡¯re even halfway to their port.¡¯ She then issued a number of orders only her officers and crew understood ¡ª the nautical terms in Elvish were still foreign to me ¡ª and the sailors went about their business to ready to Furious Fist for the chase, the intercept and probably a fight. For the rest of us spirits and landlubbers, the whole thing devolved into a waiting game. *** Krissy and Kiwa followed Master Fenar as he climbed down the stairs from the forecastle¡¯s platform to join the rest of the rangers, who had assembled on the deck, fully armed and ready, doing their best to keep out of the way of the crew. They seemed to be on edge, even Toven and the other scout-masters. I figured seafaring and naval engagements were way out of their comfort zones, and if you were a ranger, what you expected was to die on land at the invisible hands of wild spirits, not on a sinking ship. ¡®What¡¯s happening?¡¯ Toven stepped up to Master Fenar as he arrived with us in tow. ¡®Ork ship, that¡¯s what¡¯s happening,¡¯ he grumbled, his scarred face scrunching up. ¡®We¡¯re chasing it down. Once we catch them, I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s up to the captain. We¡¯ll fight if it comes to that.¡¯ That seemed to loosen up the seventy or so rangers bunched up near the mizzenmast ¡ª all they needed to hear was the word ¡°fight¡±, and all was well with the world. Unfortunately for them, I had a feeling it would be the marines of the Furious Fist in the spotlight if it came to that, not the rangers, and I was sure they knew it too. But, at times of uncertainty, people tended to believe what they wanted to believe, and elves didn¡¯t seem to be exceptions. I wasn¡¯t quite sure about rangers in a ship-to-ship engagement; in my humble opinion, this sort of thing was better left to professionals who had actually trained for this; the marines in this case. Even I had no desire to set tentacles on an ork galley again. They were horrid, and filled to the brim with vicious, green idiots and their slaves, and ¡­ hold on. They were filled with vicious, green idiots with souls that tasted like mushrooms, and chained down rowers who were all fair meals ¡­ I mean fair game as far as I was concerned. Stolen novel; please report. ¡®Krissy, we need to get on that ship,¡¯ I said to her, trying to keep calm as the memories of my most recent and so far most impressive level-ups came to my mind. I¡¯m not setting foot on an ork ship ever again. She shot me down immediately. Those things are horrid. As much as I agreed with her statement, I wasn¡¯t going to let this opportunity just pass. Levels were levels, however you got the EXP for them. I imagined if we ever made it to the Fentys Alliance ¡ª primarily human occupied lands in my understanding ¡ª we wouldn¡¯t be able to just go around eating everyone like we could on an enemy ship. ¡®No, no, no, we need to get on the galley. My levels are at stake, so please? Pretty please?¡¯ I asked as nicely as I could. No wonder people thought I was a pushover. Come on, boss, it will be fun. Kiwa chimed in, sounding excited by the prospect of a fight. I had expected nothing less from her. ¡®It will be good for us,¡¯ Hank put in his tuppence, then added, ¡®I¡¯m Hank, by the way.¡¯ Krissy furrowed her brows, and her face darkened as if we were a jury that had just handed her a death sentence. After ten seconds of heavy silence she said, It¡¯s not even up to me. This isn¡¯t my ship, I can¡¯t give orders here. Take it up with the captain! I was sure she thought I would give up at this point, considering Captain Fenar had a very similar personality to Master Fenar, and asking either of them for anything was a dubious proposition at best. I considered the option of just jumping over to the ork ship once we were close enough, but doing that without warning or permission would go down like a lead balloon, and we¡¯d have to face the wrath of not one but two Fenars. That was to be avoided at all cost, and I was left with no other option than to go the first route: try to convince the captain of the Furious Fist that my idea was a good one. I informed Krissy of my decision and of her task of presenting my idea. Well, I¡¯m not doing that. Krissy refused me at point blank range. If you want to get us all killed, at least do it yourself. How uncooperative. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t understand her reluctance, but if she thought it would deter me, she was in for a surprise. ¡®Alright, leave it with me.¡¯ What? Are you serious? Are we seriously doing this? She protested immediately. ¡®Well, you can sit this one out if you want. I can just grab onto an ork and pull myself onto the ship. Done it before, remember?¡¯ Yeah, I remember. Her unhappy groan echoed in the voice-chat. Well, if you can get the Fenars to agree to it, then I¡¯ll go. Okay, that was good, phase one of the plan complete. Now I needed a strategy to convince the captain. And I had an idea, thanks to Krissy. The Fenars. We had two of them on this ship, and on the basis of ¡°better the devil you know¡±, I believed I should start with daddy Fenar ¡ª if I managed to convince him, then he could help me convince her daughter. I knew it wasn¡¯t going to be easy, but we had some time before catching up to the ork galley. Need any help? Kiwa offered. I wasn¡¯t sure if she could help ¡ª she hadn¡¯t spent much time talking to Fenar, apart from the initial questionings after the wild-spirit-incident in Gal-Themar. I hadn¡¯t spoken to the man much either, but having observed him during his interactions with Krissy, I thought I had the measure of the man, and I thought I knew how to talk to him. This was going to be a difficult test, but if I passed, I could graduate from being a pushover and advance to the next level in more than one way. ¡®I¡¯ll be fine,¡¯ I said to Kiwa, and I set out to achieve the impossible. *** Krissy was standing only a few paces behind Master Fenirig Arte, giving the man some space. He was in a discussion with his officers ¡ª the scout-masters ¡ª and a couple of marines, trying to come up with ways in which the rangers could or would assist in different scenarios, such as boarding the enemy ship, or the enemy boarding our ship, or having to fight orks while swimming. I was having second thoughts about disturbing him ¡ª an act that would no doubt result in a hailstorm of verbal abuse coming my way. But I gritted my metaphorical teeth, repeating a mantra in my mind: ¡°you¡¯re not a pushover, you got this¡±. Well, at least I could test our new and improved comm-thread, and I got to it. I stuck a tentacle into Fenar¡¯s soul. The man shuddered as I attached the thread to the appropriate node in there. He knew exactly what was happening; he spun around and glared at Krissy, and he opened his mouth to unleash some unpleasantness on us, but I beat him to it. ¡®Hey, Master Fenar, how are you on this fine day?¡¯ And I wanted to facepalm. ¡°How are you on this fine day?¡± I knew I could have come up with a better opening line. Maybe I was more nervous than I thought or wanted to admit. Oh gods, it¡¯s the invisible shit-puppet. The Master of Third Rangers growled like an angry wolf through the voice-chat. Trust a former spiritualist to be able to do that perfectly. Listen you fuck, you call me Fenar one more time and I¡¯ll peel off your invisible hide. In fact, you try talking to me without my permission again and I¡¯ll kick you back to Hell and beyond. ¡®Uhm ¡­ sorry about that, Master Fenirig Arte, but I have something to discuss with you,¡¯ I informed him. What do you want and it had better be good or you¡¯ll be swimming the rest of the way. His thought-voice thundered like a storm in full swing. Yep, as pleasant as always. Regardless, I did have to make this good. ¡®Well, do you consider thinning the herd on that galley and capturing the captain for interrogation good? Without having to risk your men? Or the marines for that matter?¡¯ Hm. I¡¯m listening, but you¡¯re not out of the shitpool yet. He said, his tone all the warning I needed to know he was serious. Then again, when wasn¡¯t he serious? He took a step towards us, and Krissy held her ground admirably, her flinching almost imperceptible. The rangers and the few marines, on the other hand, had no idea why the famous ¡ª or infamous ¡ª Master Fenirig Arte was suddenly glaring at the lone human on the ship without saying anything, and if looking puzzled had been a competitive sport, all of them would have got gold. I¡¯d had a feeling that the prospect of gaining more intelligence for our mission would be the right thing to say, and it seemed to have worked ¡ª he was at least willing to hear me out, and if I could convince him it would work, he could in turn convince his daughter to let us get on the ship and feast on the souls of the enemy. Win-win. Or two birds with one stone. Whichever applied. So, I braced myself for the uphill battle that had taken the shape of a scarfaced elf. Chapter Eighty-nine Chapter Eighty-nine It was both a pleasant surprise and an utter disappointment that it took only about a minute to convince Fenar of the merits of letting us loose on the ork galley. He didn¡¯t argue at all; he asked a few questions to make sure we could actually do what I said we would. For a change, Krissy was a lot less confident about this than I was, but she knew better than to show any sign of hesitation or weakness in front of the man who had been training her ¡ª her respect sprinkled with a little bit of awe and fear worked pretty well in this situation. Then Fenar stormed off to find his daughter. Huh. If only everything in life was this easy. Still, I felt a sense of victory. Could it be that I wasn¡¯t a pushover at all? Could I pull this off again? I hoped so, and I made a silent pledge to myself that I would further level-up my anti-pushover skills, no matter what. I quickly severed the comm-thread going to Master Fenar¡¯s soul ¡ª with mission accomplished, I didn¡¯t have anything more to say to him, plus I was worried about him hearing Hank. With that done, we waited. It didn¡¯t take long for the Master of Third Rangers to drag the captain of the Furious Fist away from whatever captains were supposed to be doing during a chase. She looked more than just unhappy as she arrived to stand in front of Krissy and Kiwa under the sails of the mizzenmast ¡ª murder shone in her eyes, and it must have taken her exceptional self-control not to explode into an all-consuming, elf-shaped inferno of death. I realised half of that suppressed rage was directed at Master Fenar. My guess was that under normal circumstances no-one could drag a ship captain anywhere, and she was furious about her father abusing his ¡°dad privileges¡±. The other half of the captain¡¯s dangerous affections were aimed at Krissy, or us, for we were the reason her father had dragged her here in the first place. Master Fenar looked unconcerned, his usual expression of perpetual disdain for everything and everyone unchanged. Krissy, and this time even Kiwa, looked like they had found themselves at the gallows without a fair trial. Captain Fenirig Arla glared at Krissy for long moments, and every time I thought she was going to say something it ended up being some sort of mumbled grunt or curse I couldn¡¯t really make out. When she finally spoke after what felt like the longest five seconds I¡¯d ever experienced, she simply said, ¡®Fine.¡¯ And with that she spun around to leave to return to her duties. I was taken aback, and so was Krissy. Master Fenar opened his mouth to say something to his daughter just as she was about to take the first step away from us, but he didn¡¯t get the chance to speak. ¡®One more word from you and I¡¯ll throw you off the ship,¡¯ the captain snapped at her father, her words dripping with venom. For the first time since I¡¯d met Fenirig Arte, I saw him flinch ¡ª only a little, others might not have even noticed it. But he did flinch. The woman stormed away, fuming, and I pitied the sailors and officers who would have to deal with her. Krissy looked at Master Fenar. ¡®One word from you and I¡¯ll throw you off the ship,¡¯ he said, passing the threat onto us. Well, in my opinion, knowing when to keep your mouth shut wasn¡¯t a sign of being a pushover, it was a sign of wisdom. We were very wise people. Except Hank. ¡®Lovely chap,¡¯ he cooed in his weird, monster-y way. ¡®How about we eat him?¡¯ ¡®Shutupshutupshutup!¡¯ I yelled at the idiot-horror in a panic, thanking all the gods, real or imagined, that I¡¯d had the foresight to server the comm-link with the scarfaced ranger. Krissy tensed immediately, relaxing only when the man told us to wait for orders then returned to his earlier discussion with his rangers. You¡¯re going to get us all killed one day. Krissy complained, and I wasn¡¯t sure if it was meant for me or Hank. Probably both, and I supposed with good reason. At least Kiwa seemed happy enough. *** Chasing down an enemy ship was as slow and boring an affair as I had suspected. Even the crew and marines were taking their time setting things up for the upcoming naval engagement. They brought out large, rectangular shields that reminded me of the ones Roman legionaries would use, lining them up on the deck, ready to be picked up by marines to form some sort of shield-wall. Barrels filled with arrows appeared, and marines and rangers alike were checking their bows. The crew assembled two ballistas resembling giant crossbows ¡ª I would have thought those deadly looking weapons would be permanently available and ready, but it seemed the Solace Navy did these things IKEA style and preferred flatpack weaponry. Only hours later, when the four ships of our small armada were about a kilometer away from the galley, and even I could see orks and their slaves running up and down the deck of their vessel, did Fenar call Krissy and Kiwa to quickly discuss some plans before the big event. The discussion was short, and I could sum it up in a single sentence: ¡°When we get close enough, get on the galley and do your weird spirit-fuckery.¡± As far as plans were concerned, simplicity was probably best. What no-one told us was how close we¡¯d get to the enemy ship, or how we were supposed to get on it. Did Fenar just assume we knew what when and how to do, or he just couldn¡¯t be bothered to go into details? It was probably the latter. Then, as the crew began preparing long, thick ropes, attaching them to the harpoon-like munitions of the ballistas, as well as thinner ones with metal hooks that individual sailors could throw, we realised how things were going to go. Or how things were supposed to go. I was painfully aware that ¡°no plan survived contact with the enemy¡±, and that contact with the enemy was approaching fast. *** I wasn¡¯t an expert on naval battles, but the tactic the elves had settled on seemed simple enough. From what I could see, it involved three out of our four ships. The Furious Fist and the Righteous Wrath were catching up to the galley, manoeuvring to position themselves on both sides of it ¡ª port and starboard I recalled the terminology ¡ª while the third ship, the Dauntless Will was in the middle, coming up at the galley from the rear ¡ª or the stern. The fourth ship, the Brave Soul, was sort of left in reserve or something, I wasn¡¯t sure, but it was a few hundred metres behind us, just sailing along and minding her own business. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. We were now less than a kilometre away from the galley ¡ª I could see the orks were working their rowers to the bone, the oars moving in unison, propelling the ship forward, their triangular sails fully unfurled, aiding their futile attempt to get away. However, the much better designed elven ships were gaining, and it was a matter of a short time before we intercepted them. The orks expressed their displeasure of this turn of events by shooting rocks, burning barrels, and other dangerous objects at us and the other ships, using what seemed from this distance like a few small catapults. I hadn¡¯t seen catapults on the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride, then again, I guessed they wouldn¡¯t need those for raiding the coast of Solace hit-and-run style. These guys, on the other hand, were definitely equipped for a naval engagement. As we got closer, about four hundred metres, arrows began to rain in our direction, courtesy of the numerous orkish, human and elven archers on the galley. I had to give them A for effort, but as enthusiastic as they were in employing small and large projectiles, their aim left a lot to be desired. The rocks and burning barrels thrown by the catapults kept missing our ships by a considerable margin, and the arrows simply fell at least fifty metres short of their intended targets. This was probably the reason the marine and ranger archers were still on standby, and those who had been assigned to the shields hadn¡¯t even touched them yet, letting them rest against the rails of the quarterdeck. We were still way out of range, which the well trained and probably somewhat experienced elven captains and crew knew. So, in my opinion, the orks were either panicking, or they just didn¡¯t care and were itching for a fight. ¡®Are you nervous?¡¯ I asked Krissy. She stood on the deck along with Kiwa, next to one of the raised platforms on which one of the harpoon-ballistas had been erected. She wasn¡¯t trembling or anything, and the expression on her face was calm ¡ª which was probably better than the grin on Kiwa¡¯s face ¡ª but I knew it was the same, forced calm she had employed when talking to Fenar. She really should have been an actress. ¡®I am not looking forward to this,¡¯ she said, shaking her head slightly. ¡®Why am I letting you do this? There must be easier and safer ways to quell your tentacled appetites.¡¯ ¡®Sure, we could eat everyone on this ship if going over to the other one is too much trouble.¡¯ Hank offered the solution with his usual tact. ¡®We¡¯re not doing that, Hank, shut it!¡¯ I yelled at him. Krissy gritted her teeth, stifling a curse that wanted to escape her, then said, ¡®Hank, you¡¯d better not joke about things like this.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t think he¡¯s joking,¡¯ I said flatly. ¡®Of course I am, of course I am! What do you take me for, bro?¡¯ the idiot-horror protested vehemently. ¡®Well, you¡¯re Hank,¡¯ I said, his name becoming synonymous with uncontrolled greed, hunger, condescension and a bunch of other negative words. At least in my mind. ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m Hank,¡¯ he chuckled. That summed it up for me, and before any of us could say anything else, the three elves crewing the ballista next to us began to crank the winding gears and loaded the first projectile. Marines finally picked up the large shields and formed a loose line on the deck to protect the archers behind them, who were also getting ready for their first volley. It seemed like we had come close enough to the enemy for the battle to begin in earnest, and I couldn¡¯t help but recall movies such as Ben Hur ¡ª once again ¡ª or Pirates of the Caribbean, simply because this engagement was going to be a strange mix of the two, with an extra topping of spiritualists and their familiars going on an eating spree. And that reminded me of something. ¡®Put these on!¡¯ I instructed our hosts as I brought two masks out of Jack¡¯s Room. I didn¡¯t wait for their response; I slapped the misery mask onto Krissy¡¯s face along with a little, invisible and breathable spirit glue, while assigning the laughing mask to Kiwa, the same one Kenta or Tommi had been wearing when we had first set foot on Solace. ¡®Oh, come on? Is this necessary?¡¯ Krissy complained immediately. She didn¡¯t like the mask very much, but I thought it looked kind of creepy-cool, plus it provided decent protection for her face against flying splinters or shrapnel. Maybe even a sword strike. Not that I would ever let her go anywhere near an enemy without Mana-Armour on, but one could never be too careful. ¡®Oh, I like this,¡¯ Kiwa cheered, poking at the mask, testing how it was sticking to her face without touching her skin. Once she was a thousand percent sure the mask was going to stay where it was, she looked at Krissy and said, ¡®Looking good, boss. The damned orks will shit themselves when we land on their dinghy.¡¯ *** We were only about two hundred meters from the enemy, and when the first of the orkish arrows hit the side of our ship, it was my cue to use my Mana Armour skill. Tilry was able to do something similar, but her Mana Pool was less than half of mine and her host needed the staff for the fighting. So, Kiwa stayed close, and I had a tentie hovering around her, giving her the same invisible protection as for my own host ¡ª I could afford the MP/minute cost without stretching my resources too thin. Not even half a minute after the shields had lined up, and the archers ¡ª both marines and rangers ¡ª were in position to shoot from behind them, we were in range, and the battle changed gears to become the fast paced, action-packed event anyone who had grown up watching movies would expect. A volley of the galley¡¯s archers finally reached us ¡ª arrows struck the shields, the hull, some tearing holes in the sails or lodging into the masts. Some of those arrows were burning, probably dipped in something flammable like oil, but the crew of our ship not only knew how to find cover, they were also quick to put out any fires the arrows caused, even up on the masts and sails ¡ª although the latter was gaining more blackened holes than was healthy. As far as I could see no-one was hit on our side yet. A couple of the sharp sticks bounced off my Mana-Armour harmlessly, clattering on the deck. A few larger objects ¡ª mostly burning wooden things ¡ª splashed dangerously close to our ship, but whoever or whatever was operating the orkish catapults, were consistent in missing their targets. On top of that, the galley was basically being sandwiched between the two elven ships ¡ª not to mention a third one coming up from behind them ¡ª which meant the orks were fighting on two fronts, having to divide their attention between their port and starboard sides. We didn¡¯t. The Furious Fist was drawing closer and closer to the galley by the second, and we were almost side-by-side with the enemy, albeit still at some distance. The exchange of volleys became faster and more desperate, and I saw a number of unprotected slaves and even a couple of orks falling victim to arrows. Unfortunately, a few of our own elves suffered unlucky hits as well. No fatalities though ¡ª thanks to the shields ¡ª and the ship¡¯s surgeons were quick to respond, dragging the injured down to the hold. Then, finally, it was time for the two, giant IKEA crossbow-things to shine. The huge, spiked, harpoon-like spears shot out with a whistle, pulling the thick ropes with them, the ballistas themselves letting out a loud ¡°pang¡± as their strings propelled the projectiles towards the enemy. Sailors and marines cheered as both shots exploded through the hull of the galley, right into the rowers¡¯ deck. I couldn¡¯t see for sure, but I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if the harpoons had gone through the entire ship and out on the other side, pulverizing some poor sods on the way. My suspicions were confirmed when a pair of similar munitions burst out of the galley¡¯s hull on our side ¡ª ones that had been fired from the Righteous Wrath ¡ª lodging themselves into the wooden structure, their spikes keeping them there firmly. A bunch of our crew members then began to crank the pulley-system to which the thick ropes were attached to. It looked like two fishermen were competing over a big catch, reeling it in from two sides. Captain Fenirig Arla speed-walked over to us, a marine providing cover for her with his large shield. ¡®It won¡¯t be long now. Are you ready to make the jump?¡¯ she asked hurriedly. ¡®Jump?¡¯ Krissy asked, her eyes widening under her mask. ¡®Jump, yes, jump. Did you think I¡¯d personally build a stone bridge for you?¡¯ the captain roared at us. ¡®This was your fucking idea, so you either jump over and kill the bastards before my marines will have to give blood and life to do it, or you¡¯d better hope you¡¯re a good swimmer.¡¯ Then the captain stormed away along with the marine, and Krissy muttered, ¡®Fuck!¡¯ Chapter Ninety Chapter Ninety Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain glanced at Kitala Iwani, but all she could see was the infuriating laughing mask. She was sure that under the mask the woman was grinning ear to ear, and she felt like she was only an inch away from matching the painted tears on her own mask and start weeping. What the hell had she been thinking agreeing to this? Damn, familiars weren¡¯t supposed to be the cause of their hosts¡¯ deaths. Jump over to the ork ship? Like hell. Could she even do that? She had used Mana to enhance her movements before, made long jumps that would have been impossible for a human, maybe even for an elf ¡ª except Fenar ¡ª and she had been practicing with Kiwa more diligently than ever. But this? Come on! And why had the captain agreed to this? Because she was expendable in her eyes? Probably that: better a couple of spiritualists than a single marine or ranger, so it was worth a try. ¡®You¡¯ll be fine, boss, just roll when you land.¡¯ Kiwa offered her support, probably sensing her trepidation and quite accurately so. Another arrow panged off the Mana Armour around her as a new volley from the galley hit. A scream of pain rang out from somewhere near the bow, louder than the shouted orders of officers and the angry grunts of shield-bearers and archers. She looked, but only saw a couple of surgeons rushing in that direction. The galley was getting closer ¡ª the crew working the pulleys were fast and determined. Krissintha gripped her sheathed sword almost unconsciously, the feel of the leather straps covering the hilt a small and familiar comfort. ¡®I can do this,¡¯ she muttered to herself. ¡®I¡¯ve done this before, I can do this.¡¯ Of course you can. Kevin¡¯s voice came. Use as much Mana as you need. Focus on landing right, I¡¯ll deal with anything else until you get your bearings. I¡¯m Hank. Hank chimed in, but for what purpose, Krissintha had no idea. At least it made her chuckle on the inside ¡ª Kevin¡¯s so-called brother was a weird one, but after the events of the past year, it felt like it was just another day as a spiritualist. ¡®Misery! Get ready!¡¯ She heard someone yelling at her, then the same voice barked orders. ¡®Make some room for the godsdamned spiritualists you imbeciles!¡¯ She turned to look where she thought Captain Fenar¡¯s voice was coming from, but all she could see was the shield-bearing marines parting and making a gap for her to be able to make the jump from the Furious Fist over to the ork galley. That¡¯s about 30 paces. We can do this. Kevin stated confidently. For a second, through the gap between shields, Krissintha saw the enemy ship clearly. Then the second passed, and the occupants of the galley took full advantage of the gap and arrows rained down on the spot. ¡®Running start, boss, running start!¡¯ Kiwa squealed excitedly like a girl before her first dance, walking towards the opposite side of the ship to get ready for that running start she was advocating for. ¡®Fuck.¡± Krissintha exhaled and followed the battle-crazed elf. *** This time Mana didn¡¯t just tingle; it almost hurt. Krissintha wondered if she had drawn too much of it into her body ¡ª a familiar¡¯s power wasn¡¯t exactly easy to quantify, despite Kevin¡¯s explanations about MP and EP and all that nonsense. It was something she had to do by feel, and control it by willing and wanting. Or was it because of her recent injuries? No. It would have been just her ankle and her arm then. Instead, the uncomfortable sensation of her bones wanting to jump out of her body was everywhere. Kiwa tapped her on the shoulder; the signal to start running. Oh hell! Run. Run. Faster. Jump. Krissintha could have sworn the world slowed down ¡ª the elven officers yelling orders, the arrows whooshing from one ship to the other, the waves of the sea below. She sailed through the air, the Solace Navy¡¯s pride and joy behind her now, the hellish ork galley in front and approaching. The monstrous, greenskinned creatures lifting their heads as they noticed them coming, elven and human slaves trying to aim their bows at them. Then everything sped up again as she landed on the deck of the galley, rolling forward between two orks, the wooden boards creaking and cracking under her. She sprung up, trying to orient herself. The first thing she saw clearly were two of the nearest orks and an elf, all of them holding bows, and two humans who were dragging a huge bucket of arrows. And they collapsed. She knew exactly what had happened to them: Kevin. Strangely, she could barely hear anything, the thumps of the bodies hitting the floor muffled like everything else, as if hearing it through a thick door. Except for the voices in her head. Gotcha! Kevin screamed. Tasty. Hank commented. Get on it, boss! Kiwa thought-yelled, and she didn¡¯t wait for a reply. Suddenly the sounds of battle crashed down on her, clear and chaotic, just as Kiwa shot forward, blue flashes of Tilry¡¯s Mana enveloping her and her sword. She reached the next ork in an instant, burying her blade into his neck. The green brute didn¡¯t even have time to react; he gurgled some panicked words, blackish blood squirting as Kiwa withdrew the weapon. The unfortunate ork collapsed to his knees, putting both hands on the wound, then fell down face first and didn¡¯t move. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Krissy! Krissy! Let¡¯s get going! Kevin wailed, and he didn¡¯t have to say it twice. Krissintha drew her sword ¡ª one gifted to her by none other than Master Fenar ¡ª and she got to work. They had landed near the bow of the long ship, and Kiwa was already making her way towards the middle. The eclectic crew of the galley seemed to be a little slow to comprehend what was happening. The crew of the Furious Fist had the good sense to stop shooting arrows at the galley after Krissintha and Kiwa had jumped over ¡ª at least in the general vicinity of the bow ¡ª but the Righteous Wrath, which was on the other side, seemed to have missed or misinterpreted the flag-messages about this, and were determined to turn the ork ship into a giant hedgehog. Or perhaps they had got the message and decided the presence of allied spiritualists was an insufficient reason for them to give up the endeavour. Or Captain Fenar had left it out of their communications entirely. Krissintha wasn¡¯t sure which was the case, but each of them seemed feasible. It was infuriating, even knowing that Kevin had no trouble protecting her. Five elven arrows hit Mana-Armour with a strange, soft clang, snapping her out of her momentary musings. They clattered to the wooden floorboards, just as she pulled her sword out of the gut of a human slave, red blood dripping from the blade. Her first kill on the enemy ship. She had barely even realised that she had stabbed someone already. Master Fenar was right in saying muscle memory was just as important as clear thinking during a battle, if not more ¡ª even if her mind was slow to catch up, her body knew what to do. The man fell flat on his back, screaming and spasming, but Krissintha paid no more attention to him. He wouldn¡¯t get up again. A shirtless elf, upper body painted dark green, his almost white hair sticky with something that looked like black grease, also fell, right on top of the still screaming man, displaying no evidence of having been struck ¡ª Kevin¡¯s sixth¡¯s kill. Or maybe seventh. And only after five seconds on the galley. Busy little spirit. She looked around properly for the first time, trying to see where Kiwa was, and where the next enemy would come from. Her self-appointed bodyguard was already six corpses closer to the foremast than she was, some of the ork and human bodies in her wake riddled with arrows, some of them showing the signs of the elven spiritualist¡¯s formidable sword-work. Orks, elves and humans were standing in lines along the guardrails at both sides of the deck, but only the closest ones were turning around to deal with the threat of the bladed whirlwind Kiwa was, the rest of them still busy exchanging volleys with the two elven ships. Don¡¯t fall behind! Go go go! Kevin yelled. I¡¯ll watch your back. Oh, we¡¯ll eat them. We¡¯ll eat them all. Hank purred like the happiest monster that had ever existed. Krissintha steeled her nerves, gripped her sword, and followed the bloody footsteps of her bodyguard. A couple of orks in the port-side line turned around to attack Kiwa. The elf was fast and deadly, but the two orks were larger than what she thought was the norm for the creatures, and definitely tougher ¡ª even Kiwa¡¯s Mana-coated blade failed to slice through their arms as the brutes protected themselves while trying to rush and ram into her. Krissintha caught up to them, jumping over dead bodies on the way. To her surprise, no-one else from the lines joined the two orks. A few of the slaves shot glances at them over their shoulders, but that was it ¡ª they simply carried on bringing arrows for their masters. Maybe they were confident the two, greenskinned boulders would be enough, or just thought shooting arrows at the enemy ships was more important than a couple of comparably tiny interlopers. Either way, it looked like Kiwa needed help. The hell? Are these spiritualists? Kiwa¡¯s angry thoughts came through the voice-chat as she jumped backwards, avoiding a wide swing of one of the ork¡¯s one handed axe. The other one was right on his comrade¡¯s heels with a broad-bladed sword that looked like a dagger in the hands of such a large creature, and neither of them seemed impaired by the wounds on their arms, even though they were bleeding like a fountain. Sword-ork lunged forward as Axe-ork got out of his way. Kiwa sidestepped the sword-strike and slashed down on the beast. Tilry¡¯s power flashed blue as the blade scraped across his chest. He staggered a bit, stepping back to avoid getting struck again, still alive and well. No, they¡¯re just tough. Can¡¯t see any spirits. What you see is what you get here. Kevin stated. Need a bit of help? Krissintha arrived to stand next to the elf woman, just as the two giant brutes stopped as if they had frozen solid, and the next moment they were both on the ground. ¡®Don¡¯t fucking do that! They were mine,¡¯ Kiwa screeched, the eye-holes of her jolly mask aimed at the air above Krissintha. She then lowered her head a bit, probably looking at her, and said, ¡®Sorry boss, not you. Kevin.¡¯ There¡¯s plenty of souls here, leave a few for her. Krissintha sent the thought. Oh yeah, oh yeah, we already ate like thirty of them rowers underdeck. Hank hollered happily. Fine, I¡¯ll ask before I do it again. Kevin said, sounding disappointed. She sighed inwardly. This was absurd. To the spirits this wasn¡¯t a life and death battle where they could easily meet a violent end. To them this was a buffet. What was she even doing here? How had she let herself be roped into this? Maybe Kevin wasn¡¯t the real pushover here. ¡®Why aren¡¯t they coming?¡¯ Kiwa asked, fuming. Krissintha looked around, but apart from the bodies of the fallen orks and their slaves, it was just them standing in the middle of the deck, near the foremast. The enemy crew was ignoring them, their focus on the elven ships on either side of the galley. The Furious Fist and the Righteous Wrath were close now, only a dozen paces or so ¡ª an elf could jump over here now, even without using Mana. She could see the elven sailors clearly, throwing the smaller hooks over, trying to pull the ships even closer to each other, the galley-slaves hacking at the ropes with abandon, trying to prevent their inevitable fate. It wasn¡¯t long now before either marines would come over to the galley or orks would start jumping over to the navy ships. Then not one but two Fenars would launch an avalanche of unkind words and more at her. She needed to find and capture the ork captain and thin the herd on the way before the first marine could set foot on this cursed ship. Whether she liked it or not, the only way to keep the Fenars happy was to let her overly enthusiastic and hungry familiars commit another atrocity by eating as much as they could. Krissintha hefted her sword, re-adjusting her grip, then tried to wipe some sweat off her face only to realise that the stupid misery-mask was still there. She took a deep breath. ¡®Alright, Kiwa, Kevin, new plan,¡¯ she announced. Chapter Ninety-one Chapter Ninety-one ¡®New plan? What¡¯s wrong with the old plan?¡¯ I asked, having not the faintest what Krissy was thinking. ¡®It¡¯s the same plan, really. We¡¯re going to go get the captain. Except you¡¯ll be taking as many of the archers out on the way as you can. On both sides. Leave the rowers for now,¡¯ she said. ¡®Good plan,¡¯ I agreed, and I had a distinct feeling that Hank was grumbling something under his breath. Kiwa nodded as well, and Tilry ¡­ well, she was quiet, looking at all the souls around us. It was probably her first time seeing so many potential meals without having to lament her inability to consume them. And I was determined to help her eat her fill once we achieved our objectives ¡ª the rowers weren¡¯t going anywhere, were they? Then I looked ahead. The galley was long, and we were still near the bow, almost under the foremast. Orks and barbarian elves lined the edges of the deck on both sides, diligently shooting at the navy ships, human slaves running up and down, replenishing their supply of arrows, dodging and jumping over bodies, boxes, crates and sometimes each other ¡ª a semi-organised chaos. Based on our previous experience on a galley, I was sure we¡¯d find the captain of this floating hellhole somewhere near the aft where the castle and the cabins were, probably bellowing orders and stuff. But I couldn¡¯t see that far from where we were. I didn¡¯t have a problem abandoning the rowers on the deck below ¡ª I¡¯d eaten more than thirty of them already, causing a stir down there. The orks on the rowers¡¯ deck were running up and down like headless chickens, trying to get the slaves to resume their work, but they didn¡¯t seem to be succeeding. Panic combined with the fact that the Furious Fist and the Righteous Wrath were so close now that there wasn¡¯t enough room to properly operate the oars, caused the galley to lose its main propulsion. Krissy and Kiwa rushed forward, and the strangest thing happened. I would have thought at least some of the crew would get in our way and try to slay the two, masked spiritualists running amok on the deck. But we made it past the foremast and reached the main mast without anyone or anything getting in our way, despite quite a few of them dropping dead as my tentacles brushed across their lines on both sides. Sure, some of the scattered crates and arrow-riddled bodies were an obstacle, but from the numerous occupants of the galley we didn¡¯t get more than a few angry glances over their shoulders. It was almost as if they wanted us to go and introduce ourselves to their captain. That, or they were more worried about the elven ships, and the marines who looked like they were preparing to board the ork galley. We didn¡¯t have a lot of time, but I was thinning their numbers, and I imagined at least a few marines would be thankful for that. We ran past the main mast and a stack of crates, and finally I saw the mizzenmast and a group of orks standing in the middle of the deck in front of the stairs leading up to the castle. Four of the green beasts, holding large, round viking-style shields, surrounded the largest ork I¡¯d seen so far, protecting the giant from stray arrows. The head-honcho of the ship, I deduced. He even had a similar tricorn hat Orkuz Graal used to wear, but unlike the late captain of the Graal¡¯s Enourmous Pride, this guy was rocking it. He was barking orders in their gruff language that resembled the growls of a bear more than anything else, and orks, elves and humans ran to obey. A giant, green manifestation of power and authority. ¡®That¡¯s our guy!¡¯ I called out, probably unnecessarily. ¡®Ooooh! He looks tasty.¡¯ Hank salivated over the sight. ¡®We¡¯re to capture the brute,¡¯ Krissy reminded us all. Our hosts slowed down, deciding to approach the captain and his officers a little more cautiously. The crew was still ignoring us, focusing on sending as many sharp sticks at the elven ships as they could, despite a cute little Tentacle Horror diligently eating their souls as we went. I was getting full, almost ready to level up. Ten or so orks, six elves, and forty-something humans ¡ª thirty-something of which had been rowers ¡ª gave me roughly 2800 EXP. Adding that to the 2000 already in the bank, I had 4800 EXP out of the 5700 needed for Level 35. And that was after just a few minutes on an ork galley. The ork boss noticed the two masked figures approaching, and he fell silent as he turned to face us, only about five metres separating us from him and his retinue. He squinted at us, as if unable to believe his own eyes, then leaned closer to one of his guys and said something that sounded like a question uttered by a boar with a sore-throat. How do we capture that, boss? Kiwa inquired, her eyes glued to the gigantic ork. ¡®I say we eat him.¡¯ Hank suggested as I had expected he would. Not sure. Kevin? Krissy passed the baton to me. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I had several ideas, based on how we had dealt with Orkuz Graal, but I had a feeling the ¡°flying spiritualist¡± trick wouldn¡¯t be enough here, and I also had to keep a close eye on my Mana expenditure ¡ª Mana Armour for two people wasn¡¯t cheap, and I didn¡¯t want to sacrifice the protection for something that had a low chance of working. So, it was time to move onto plan B. I stretched a tentacle towards the big guy, looking for the right place to plunge it into his soul and connect to a node in it. ¡®Oh, oh, oh, we¡¯re eating him, we¡¯re eating him!¡¯ Hank cheered like a kid in an amusement park. ¡®No we¡¯re not, we¡¯re talking him down.¡¯ I shot him down as I stuck a thread into the appropriate node in the brute¡¯s soul. The ork captain¡¯s thoughts immediately became audible, overlapping his speech perfectly, providing us with translation. ¡®¡­ fuggen ganks on mah ship, I swear ¡®em masks are too stoopid.¡¯ Ork Captain finished giving his opinion piece, while the four in his personal retinue were nodding enthusiastically. One of them said something, and the captain replied, ¡®Nah, I ain¡¯t killed anythin¡¯ for ages. Them rotten ganks are mine!¡¯ It seemed the captain had adopted quite the hands-on approach to dealing with unwanted guests, and he took a step towards us, drawing a large cutlass-type sword. Krissy and Kiwa fell back into their stances, lifting their weapons, ready for the fight. I coated four of my tentacles with Mana, ready to restrain the brute, keeping the other five free so I could knock the souls out of the others if they got too close, while trying to think of something to say to this giant green menace, something that would make him stand down and surrender. This was going to be tough, I had no doubt, but we had promised to capture the captain alive, and not delivering on that promise wasn¡¯t an option. Oh, the price we had to pay for my levels! But a certain, self-proclaimed brother of mine had a different plan. ¡®Oi, I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ He introduced himself to Ork Captain. Why, I had no idea. The fuck! Kiwa swore, almost losing her balance for a moment. ¡®Great,¡¯ I said, wishing I could strangle him somehow. Hank, you idiot, what the hell are you doing? Krissy demanded. ¡®I¡¯m Hank, and the delicious looking barbarian should know that,¡¯ he explained cheerfully. ¡®Because ¡­ I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ Oh gods, the ego on this Tentacle Horror was something else. But as annoyed as I was, the sudden conversation foisted upon the unsuspecting ork proved to be a good distraction. Ork Captain stopped in his tracks, looking left and right, trying to find the source of the voices in his head. ¡®Who da fugg? Where are ya ganks?¡¯ he bellowed. ¡®I¡¯m Hank,¡¯ he repeated his short but to-the-point manifesto. ¡®And I¡¯m Raagstrom Raagh!¡¯ the brute gurgled furiously while still searching for the source of the voices. ¡®And I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®And I¡¯m Raagstrom Raagh.¡¯ ¡®And I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ Oh, gods help me! Did this battle just devolve into a competition to see who could growl his name louder and harder? I had to put a stop to this, so I too growled the first thing that came to my mind. ¡®I¡¯m Batman.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m Raagstrom Raagh, ya batfugger gank!¡¯ the ork screamed, his green face turning red. ¡®Get off mah ship ya fools!¡¯ ¡®Sorry, we¡¯re taking your ship.¡¯ I informed him. ¡®No-one¡¯s takin¡¯ the Raagh¡¯s Uncontested Might, ya hear me ya stoopid spirit-gank?¡¯ he protested, and to put his thoughts into action, he lunged forward, aiming his cutlass at Kiwa, who was standing a step closer to him than Krissy. The woman dodged as fast as expected from an elven spiritualist, Mana flashing around her here and there. ¡®That¡¯s the name of your ship? The Raagh¡¯s Uncontested Might?¡¯ I asked, incredulous. Ork naming conventions were something to behold. ¡®It¡¯s pretty much contested now, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Hank chimed in. Well, he wasn¡¯t wrong. ¡®Yeah, more like the ¡°Raagh¡¯s Intolerable Arrogance, or something,¡¯ I offered a suggestion while Krissy batted away a slash of the ork¡¯s weapon, chipping a large chunk out of the dark steel. She had got better at bending Mana to her will, that was clear as day ¡ª the blue sheen on her blade was more focused, and as large and heavy as the captain¡¯s cutlass was, it didn¡¯t stand a chance. Kiwa, not to be outdone, sprung back into action, drawing a huge amount of Tilry¡¯s Mana. She leaped forward, so fast even I could barely see her, and jabbed her Mana-coated blade into Raagstrom Raagh¡¯s forearm. The ork groaned in pain, but didn¡¯t seem deterred; he steadied himself and selected Kiwa as his next target. He lifted his cutlass high, intending to bring it down on her. Both women were ready to dodge as the ork screamed. ¡®Die ya fugger!¡¯ I quickly came to the conclusion there was no talking this guy down, and as regrettable as it was, killing him wasn¡¯t an option either. I could see the marines on the Furious Fist getting some planks ready so they could storm the Raagh¡¯s Unbelievable Stupidity, and I wanted to capture the sizable, greenskinned captain before that. So, as his cutlass began its downward arc towards Kiwa, I stuck two tentacles into his body, and I pulled. *** I had done this only once before, and not exactly the way I was doing it now. Also, last time it had been a pug, so a considerably smaller ¡ª albeit almost as ugly ¡ª creature than an ork. Also, I had been drunk at the time. Also, I had no idea if this would actually work, but for a change, I felt positive waves from Hank, as opposed to hearing snarky comments, so I took it as a good sign. Once a Tentacle Horror Instinct, always a Tentacle Horror Instinct. I pulled Raagstrom Raagh¡¯s soul with one tentacle, separating it from his body, and at the same time I released a large amount of Essence to coat his body and soul with it, then let Jack¡¯s Room and my Spirit-Room do their thing respectively and pull a single being into two different storage rooms ¡ª one physical, one spiritual. There was a little bit of conflict between the two rooms, though; since both were a part of my actual body in the Spirit World, pulling two things through the Black Essence portal simultaneously added a couple of extra seconds to the normally instantaneous process. Finally, something I could consider normal about the portal ¡ª I still didn¡¯t understand why the damned thing had no problem sucking physical objects as large as an ork through it, as well as souls, but apparently wasn¡¯t large enough for my consciousness to travel freely between the two realms, not without some extra Black Essence. What even was consciousness? Was it a thing that had some sort of size and weight larger and heavier than a body or a soul? Well, I supposed this wasn¡¯t really the time to ponder questions like this, and in the end the result of this stunt was satisfactory: Raagstrom Raagh disappeared from the face of the Earth. Or whatever this world or planet was called. Chapter Ninety-two Chapter Ninety-two Krissintha Arlonet Dar-Ghelain gawked at where the ork captain had been a moment ago. She had a good idea of what had just happened ¡ª Kevin of course once again ¡ª but it would have been nice to have a warning, or at least a stray word or thought from the spirit. Would have been even nicer if he hadn¡¯t killed the brute. Because he had, hadn¡¯t he? Surely, disappearing like that meant he was dead, didn¡¯t it? What was she to say to Master and Captain Fenar now? So, for a moment she didn¡¯t know how to react. Even the four, shield-bearing ork bodyguards seemed shocked and confused, looking left and right, one of them scratching his head at the sudden mystery of his captain¡¯s disappearance. Then the moment passed. As if on cue, the four orks quickly overcame their bafflement and decided to focus on the enemy. They roared in anger, glaring at the two masked spiritualists, then lunged at them as one, shields up, axes and maces held high. Krissintha didn¡¯t hesitate; she moved fast, trying to keep up with her self-appointed, slightly crazed bodyguard, and dodged and parried the strikes coming her way. Her Mana-coated blade sliced into the shield of one of the orks ¡ª the wooden thing proving to be less tough than their bones ¡ª then she jumped back as half of the shield fell away, to avoid a mace to her face. From the corner of her eyes and obstructed by the mask, she could just about see orks and slaves collapsing near the edge of the deck ¡ª probably Kevin¡¯s work ¡ª as the first of the Furious Fist¡¯s marines were rushing across to the galley using the planks they had laid between the two ships. Another strike of the same mace came dangerously close, the green barbarian determined to bash her head in, but with a surge of Mana she was fast enough to dance around the green bastard. She jumped, and her blade pierced the beast¡¯s neck like a hot knife going through butter. It really was the only place where she could easily inflict a lethal wound; even with her familiar¡¯s power at her disposal, it was difficult, often impossible to cut or stab through their ribs and into their hearts. The belly was an option, but they were quick to protect their guts with their arms. Luckily, orks seemed to think their necks were out of reach for a small human, so it was an easier target for a spiritualist. Black blood sprayed and covered her mask and cape as she pulled her sword and landed on her feet. The ork wobbled first, then hit the floor with a thump, the shocked expression frozen on his ugly, green face. Krissintha looked around to see who the next opponent would be and found none. Kiwa stood holding her sword in the air in a victory pose, three orks in various states of beheaded at her feet. Damn, the elf was just too good, and for some reason she still called her ¡°boss¡±. Krissintha was sure the time would come when she¡¯d have to start calling her that. And that was it, the battle was over, at least for her. The crew of the galley ¡ª having been decimated by the invisible, soul-eating menace that Kevin was ¡ª didn¡¯t stand a chance against the marines as they boarded the ship from two sides. The elves made short work of the defenders; their spears and hatchets working gory wonders, and in a minute, those of the enemy still alive lost the will to fight and surrendered. There weren¡¯t many of them left on the deck: some ten orks and twice as many slaves, and the marines quickly disarmed and herded them towards the bow. She let out a breath of relief and pain as she let go of the Mana she was keeping in her body. She wondered if she should join the corpses on the deck-floor for a rest. This whole battle was ¡­ what? Five minutes? How could her entire body ache after just five minutes? Was there something about using a familiar¡¯s power she didn¡¯t know? She couldn¡¯t recall any of her father¡¯s retainers ¡ª or Kiwa for that matter ¡ª complaining about this kind of pain. Then again, Kevin wasn¡¯t exactly a normal familiar, so could that be the reason? Or had she just simply used too much of his Mana in one go? She didn¡¯t know, and she remembered there was another thing she needed an answer for. Kevin, what the hell happened to the captain? Did you eat him? She asked, momentarily horrified by how normal the question ¡°did you eat him¡± had become. Ooooii! Whaddafugg? Lemme outa here, ya ganks or imma skin ya alive! A familiar, deep and growly voice filled her mind. Well, he is ¡­ fine, sort of. As you can hear. Kevin said, chuckling nervously. I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m scared to ask, but I will. What did you do to him? Krissintha sent the question into the voice-chat, her mind reeling from how loud the ork captain was. Listen ¡®ere ya ganks, what the fugg didja do to me? I ain¡¯t seein¡¯ shit ¡®ere. Why ain¡¯t I movin¡¯? Where¡¯s mah fuggen¡¯ body? Where¡¯s mah fuggen¡¯ ship? Where the fugg am I? Oh bro, you forgot to disconnect the comm-thread when you pulled him in, didn¡¯t you? Hank laughed almost maniacally. You never cease to amaze. Aww, shit! Hold on, let me check. Kevin said, then went quiet. Krissintha was about to demand a proper explanation ¡ª this talk of comm-threads and Hank finding Kevin entertaining answered nothing as to what had happened to the poor ork. And she couldn¡¯t believe she was beginning to feel sorry for the green bastard for having to endure the fumbling of not one but two Tentacle Horrors. Then again, Raagstrom Raagh, the captain of The Raagh¡¯s Uncontested Might, seemed to be alive or thereabouts, and that was something she could report to Master Fenirig Arte. Or Fenirig Arla. The captain of the Furious Fist just stepped off the plank and onto the deck of the galley, glaring at Krissintha as if she was holding her responsible for every single piece of misfortune in the world. For the first time, she was happy Kevin had insisted on the masks ¡ª she could pretend she didn¡¯t see the woman, and no-one would notice she was looking away on purpose. On the other side of the deck, striding on a similar plank, Captain Rimarle Alas of the Righteous Wrath arrived, followed by some of his officers, and of course the ugly-cute dog, Fifi, in his arms. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. *** ¡®Hm. Adequate,¡¯ Captain Fenirig Arla stated, looking like she was more impressed by the dirt on her boots than Krissintha¡¯s performance. Adequate? The nerves on this woman! Kevin growled angrily. We should eat her. Hank suggested, his thought-voice deep and dark. ¡®Not bad, not bad,¡¯ Rimarle Alas said, while stroking the head of his pug. ¡®I lost five marines. It¡¯s sad, but I¡¯d expected worse. Much worse.¡¯ ¡®I lost three,¡¯ Captain Fenar murmured menacingly, still glaring at Krissintha as if implying that the losses were her fault somehow. She hadn¡¯t seen how those marines died, and sure, it was sad, but there was no way she¡¯d take any blame for it. She straightened herself, looked the captain in the eyes as much as it was possible to do so with the mask on, and said, ¡®We did what we needed to do, and we did it well, captain. So did your marines. That¡¯s all there¡¯s to it.¡¯ ¡®Hm. Well said.¡¯ The woman nodded, the expression on her face morphing from furious to simply annoyed. She glanced around at the corpses scattered near them. ¡®Which one of these fuckers was the captain of this floating piece of shit? I was under the impression you were going to capture the bastard alive and provide some extra intelligence.¡¯ ¡®Oh, was that the plan?¡¯ Captain Rimarle Alas said, sounding ¡ª or perhaps pretending ¡ª to be surprised. ¡®I thought it was weird that some masked fellows were running up and down here.¡¯ You guys were shooting at us, pugface! Kevin screeched at the man. Luckily, he couldn¡¯t hear the spirit. We should eat him. And his dog. Hank suggested. Unsurprisingly. Who eatin¡¯ who? Whadda fugg¡¯s going¡¯ on ya ganks? Raagstrom Raagh ¡ª or maybe just his soul ¡ª demanded explanations. It was getting crowded in her head, and Krissintha did her best to ignore the loud voices. ¡®I¡¯ve got the barbarian captain,¡¯ she stated confidently. Perhaps because the fight against the green brutes was still a fresh, minute-old memory, or perhaps because of something else, she found the captain of the Furious Fist a lot less intimidating than before. ¡®We can interrogate him at your convenience.¡¯ ¡®Where is he then?¡¯ The captain raised her eyebrows. Uh. Kevin? Time for an explanation, if you don¡¯t mind. She called on her familiar. Well, so, I pulled him into two of my storage rooms. His body is in Jack¡¯s Room, right next to some deer carcasses. His soul is squished between my new Soul Shields in my Spirit Room, but I forgot to take out the new comm-threads from his soul, so it basically went through the Black Essence Portal along with him and is still attached. Imagine that. I didn¡¯t know this could happen, and the guy¡¯s soul is still conscious, and he just won¡¯t shut up. Heh, he probably thinks he¡¯s in hell or something. Anyway, I think I can put his soul back into his body, just like I did with that stupid guy¡¯s pug, and ¡­¡¯ Kevin¡¯s lengthy and mostly indecipherable explanation came. Fuggen shit! I¡¯m in Hell? Get me outa ¡®ere or I¡¯ll smash yer heads, ya ganks! Raagstrom Raagh demanded. Hahahahahahahhaaaa! Hank laughed. Krissintha had no choice but to take parts of Kevin¡¯s account of things and put something coherent together for Fenirig Arla. ¡®My familiar took him to Hell and is holding onto him there ¡­ for safekeeping. He can bring him back, and we¡¯ll be able to talk to him,¡¯ she presented the answer she thought would be easy to understand, and probably close enough to the truth. ¡®Your familiar can drag people to Hell?¡¯ Captain Rimarle Alas asked, taking half a step away from Krissintha and Kiwa. Even Captain Fenar looked like she was having second thoughts about ¡­ something. Krissintha enjoyed the moment while it lasted ¡ª it wasn¡¯t every day that one of the Fenars showed any surprise or hesitation. ¡®Yes, well, he¡¯s a nice familiar, but sometimes he has the tendencies of an evil spirit. Especially when he¡¯s angry,¡¯ she explained, grinning under her mask. ¡®I can¡¯t believe my father chose to associate with someone like you,¡¯ Fenirig Arla muttered, shaking her head, then sighed. ¡®Very well, we¡¯ll interrogate the barbarian later, be ready to bring him back when I call you.¡¯ You will be able to bring the ork back, right? Krissintha asked. Should be able to. Never done this before, but I think it will work. Kevin replied. ¡®We¡¯re ready whenever you are.¡¯ Krissintha nodded. ¡®Hm. Good.¡¯ The captain nodded as well. ¡®Now, we need to start clearing out the cabins and the decks below. Who knows how many of the green fucks are hiding down there. Feel free to participate.¡¯ Ohoho, more food for us, and my dear Tilry¡¯s looking hungry. Hank cheered. *** It seemed the rangers ¡ª by orders of the captains of their respective ships ¡ª had all stayed behind, and it was the marines who had the privilege to systematically go through the entire galley, find any orks that might be hiding in the dark corners down below, and to deal with them. But Captain Fenirig Arla was the generous sort, expressed her desire to let Krissy take a crack at it first, then walked away to deal with something else. It wasn¡¯t hard work, much to Kiwa¡¯s dismay, who still seemed to be in a mood to fight. All Krissintha had to do was to walk from one end of the quarterdeck to the other, aft to bow, and Kevin¡¯s long and invisible tentacles did the rest. That¡¯s what clearing the rowers¡¯ deck looked like. She wasn¡¯t surprised that the marines escorting them couldn¡¯t keep their nervousness off their faces. The rangers ¡ª especially the ones that had taken part in the anti-evil-spirit exercise ¡ª were aware that Kevin had abilities normal familiars didn¡¯t, but it must have been disconcerting for the marines to hear the screams of the people down in the rowers¡¯ deck, the rattling of chains as slaves tried to free themselves and flee, and the roaring orks falling silent one after another. Krissintha had seen the results of Kevin¡¯s so called ¡°levelling¡±. Some might have used the word ¡°hell¡± to describe it, and while she did think the word was a little strong, she wasn¡¯t looking forward to going down to the rowers¡¯ deck and witness the process. Hearing the conversation between the three spirits was more than enough: ¡°getting full¡±, ¡°reaching Level 35¡±, ¡°longer tentacles and faster Essence collection¡±, ¡°Tilry reaching Level 6 or Level 21 depending on point of view¡±, and other such things. The growth of spirits was a costly thing, and she was glad Kevin was responsible enough to have their enemies pay it. Had it been just Hank, the world might not have been so lucky. Then again, Hank was kind of Kevin¡¯s fault, so ¡­ well, it was best to not think about it too much, because if she did, she might not like some of the conclusions she¡¯d inevitably come to. Slowly but surely she reached the last hatch near the bow, and she could already smell the stench of sweat and piss steaming up from below, bringing with it the memories of the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride and the events that had taken place there. She wished she was somewhere else, but wishes were of no use here. She glanced around; only Kitala Iwani seemed eager to descend into the bowels of the galley, but she was waiting for her to go first. And first she would go. ¡®Oh hell,¡¯ she muttered just to herself, and stepped onto the ladder. Chapter Ninetey-three Chapter Ninety-three Krissy didn¡¯t seem happy to be here, but I sure loved an ork galley. I was seriously considering asking the navy people if they were going to hunt any more of these things any time soon, and if they needed help. I had no doubt Kiwa would be game; she seemed to like fighting, and orks were belligerent enough to oblige. And if the orks in question were without familiars ¡ª as was the case here on The Raagh¡¯s Very Much Contested Might ¡ª we could handle them, and I could grow. Krissy and Kiwa had conducted themselves well, regardless of Captain Fenirig Arla¡¯s stupid remarks, and as they prepared to descend to the rower¡¯s deck, I took stock of my level-up. Even though our fight had taken no more than five minutes, in the midst of it I couldn¡¯t keep track of kills as well as I would have wanted to. I had killed some of the crew, the girls and the combined ranger-marine archer teams had killed some more, and since I wasn¡¯t a picky eater, I had eaten every soul I could reach with my tentacles. My best guesstimate was 28 to 30 orks, about 10 elves, and somewhere between 40 and 50 humans, most of them rowers. But in the end, it wasn¡¯t the number of slain enemy combatants that was important, it was the total EXP I gained from them, and of that I was always keeping track of, more or less accurately. This time I had gained a total of about 4500 EXP. It was a good haul, and considering I already had 2000 EXP in the bank, I got the required 5700 EXP for Level 35 without issues, and had about 800 left over in the bank. Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 34 to Level 35. Finally. For Level 35 I wanted more and longer tentacles. Hank didn¡¯t argue about it ¡ª at this point improving my tenties or getting larger EP and MP pools were equally useful, so either choice was a good one. I willed my body to allocate all the soul-stuff I had consumed to the growth of my lovely danger-noodles, and my body did the rest. By the time Krissy and Kiwa ¡ª followed by a number of marines ¡ª stepped off the last rung off the ladder and onto the raised walkway running along in the middle of the rowers¡¯ deck, I had twelve tenties, each of them thicker, stronger, and about nine metres long. That was an insanely good upgrade, and I could feel it as my Essence collection rate jumped up as if a bee had stung it and settled at 19EP/minute. Now I could refill both Essence pools in about seven minutes, and that was nothing to sneeze at. Tilry was nearly ecstatic; she had managed to eat two souls ¡ª one ork one elf ¡ª courtesy of the contents of my new Enzyme Pool, and she levelled twice. Tilry¡¯s level was trickier to determine. According to her, the size of her Essence Pool jumped from 41EP to 48EP, her Mana Pool from 29MP to 34MP. Her body grew a little, including her four arms, but she couldn¡¯t feel any uptick in the speed of her Essence Collection. Levels weren¡¯t an exact science, so our guess was that she was now Level 21 or thereabouts. So, I was happy, Hank was Hank, and Tilry was satisfied, too. There was only one fly in the ointment. A big, green fly: Raagstrom Raagh. The guy just wouldn¡¯t shut up. Oooi! Whatsappening? Swear imma get out and smash yer skulls! he yelled, loud and aggressive as ever, but I had a distinct feeling that some panic was seeping into his thought-voice. It had never occurred to me that a soul could be conscious after pulling it into my Spirit Room, and I had no idea what it was like for him to be there. If I had to guess, it must have been like being locked in one of those experimental sensory deprivation rooms with no stimuli, and after a while you¡¯d start going mad and hallucinating. In other words, my Spirit Room must have been like a quiet corner of Hell for the ork captain. Whether our voices flying about the voice-chat added or subtracted from the effect, I wasn¡¯t sure. Served him right anyway. Probably. It¡¯s getting too loud in here. Krissy remarked, and I couldn¡¯t argue with that. ¡®We¡¯re eating your crew, we¡¯re eating your slaves, there¡¯ll be nothing left of your boat, you gank,¡¯ Hank goaded the ork captain. What a mean Tentacle Horror! Then again, the ork deserved it. Probably. Ya¡¯ll regret this, ya hear, imma kill ya dead! Raagstrom Raagh retorted, but his thought-voice was losing that thundering force it had had before. Can we focus on the task at hand? Krissy suggested, looking ahead into the chaos that awaited us. The rowers¡¯ deck, as much as I had done my best to reduce its population, was still crowded, and the screams, pleas and curses of the still living slaves ¡ª close to two hundred of them ¡ª combined with the constant and vicious rattling of chains, made for a deafening concert, which only intensified as they started noticing the arrival of the two masked figures and the dozen marines behind them. Looking at the sweaty, scared and thoroughly helpless men, sitting in rows stretching dozens of metres back, I was suddenly not so keen to eat them all, especially not in front of an audience of the ten or so marines behind us. Slaughtering the propulsion system of a ship during battle was one thing ¡ª it served a purpose other than my own growth ¡ª eating them en-masse outside of combat was another. It felt like it would be some sort of war crime, or a very Hank thing to do, if nothing else. I recalled the events of the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride. I had been angry then, furious even, and I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d been in my right mind, but no matter how cruel it may have looked to an outside observer, or even to me, it was a combat situation, a rescue mission, so there had been all sorts of justifications for what I¡¯d done there. But then the elves ¡ª none other than Captain Fenirig Arla and Captain Rimarle Alas and his pug ¡ª had decided to sink Orkuz Graal¡¯s prized galley with at least a hundred slaves still alive aboard it. I did understand why they had chosen not to take prisoners, but one couldn¡¯t help but wonder if there was a clear line between practical, cruel and criminal, or whether it mattered at all. I supposed the fact that I was thinking about this meant I was still more human than Tentacle Horror, despite everything, and just to prove that point, Hank called out to me. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡®Bro, what are you waiting for? A standing ovation or something?¡¯ he demanded. ¡®Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re thinking about not eating them, because if you do, we¡¯re going to have a problem.¡¯ ¡®Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it?¡¯ I snapped at him like the embodiment of righteous defiance. Or absolute hypocrisy. ¡®What will happen to the rowers?¡¯ Krissy suddenly turned around and asked the marine officer behind her. ¡®Uh ¡­ they¡¯ll go down with the ship, unless the captain changes policy,¡¯ the man replied nervously while trying to not look at Krissy¡¯s mask. There¡¯s you¡¯re answer. She then said to us through the voice-chat. They¡¯re dead either way, so do what you need to do. Levels are important to you, that¡¯s why we came here. Am I wrong? For a couple of moments, I was speechless, and it was Hank who reacted first. ¡®Hear that, bro? Krissy knows what¡¯s what. Just look at all these delicious ¡­¡¯ he began a tirade I had no doubt was going to be long and tiresome, but our host cut him short. Shut it, Hank, and listen carefully! Krissy¡¯s thought-voice sounded angry, and almost as if it was trembling. This is never going to be normal. The fighting¡¯s done, and we¡¯re only doing this because under the circumstances it¡¯s either Kevin¡¯s belly or the bottom of the sea for these poor bastards. You got that? Don¡¯t you dare taking pleasure in massacring people like this! Then why don¡¯t you take it up with that stupid Captain Fenar, eh?¡¯ Hank tried to argue. Because there¡¯s no way she can take them prisoner, no way she can let them go. They¡¯ve been dead men ever since we spotted this damn ship. She hissed. I felt Hank wanting to say something, then changing his mind the last second, keeping quiet. And I wanted to hug Krissy, my favourite, most understanding and supporting host, the best one a familiar could wish for. ¡®Krissy,¡¯ I said to her. Yeah? ¡®I love you.¡¯ Of course you do. She said, her mouth finally curling up under her mask. Then she turned back to the marine contingent waiting for us to start making our way through the rowers¡¯ deck. ¡®We¡¯re going to clear out this place. Are you sure you want to be here and watch?¡¯ ¡®Clear out? What do you mean ¡°clear out¡±?¡¯ The officer asked, looking more worried than before. Krissy turned around to look at all the rowers who were in a futile uproar. ¡®My familiar is going to kill them all,¡¯ she stated, forcing a matter-of-fact tone. The officer gulped, but he neither ordered his men to go back up nor moved himself. ¡®Very well,¡¯ Krissy said, and that was my cue to start the cruel, gruesome work of harvesting all the souls on the rowers¡¯ deck. *** Human souls tasted like minty toothpaste, and as such, they weren¡¯t supposed to leave a bad taste in my mouth, so to speak. But as Krissy walked forward, and row after row of chained down slaves collapsed in their pits as I robbed them of their souls, I began to feel a revulsion to what I was doing. I had taken quite a few lives during my career as a Tentacle Horror, but as far as I could remember, this was the first time I was killing people outside of combat. I hoped mass murder wasn¡¯t going to become my thing. I knew Krissy was right, and these people were dead either way, but whether one was willing to admit it or not, there was a difference between killing and killing. I almost jumped with joy when a barbarian elf sprung up from behind a wooden support post, dagger in one hand, whip in the other, and decided he had a chance. Well, he didn¡¯t, but at least he had the good grace to attack us, therefore making himself a target I felt justified killing. Being a Tentacle Horror sucked sometimes. By the look of it, being a marine who had to follow us and watch as an invisible entity slaughtered dozens of people in seconds, also sucked. I supposed watching an enemy ship sinking, even knowing it was full of people, was something a man, or an elf, could detach himself from, and process it better than witnessing a hundred spirit-kills up close and personal. By the time we reached the thick pole in the middle that was a part of the mizzenmast, the dozen marines fell back to a safe distance from the two masked spiritualists, looking as pale and white as a freshly painted wall. Tilry was clinging to her host¡¯s body a little too tightly. Usually, she would be hovering slightly behind and above her, but this time the familiar was hugging her as if her life depended on it. I didn¡¯t know if Kitala Iwani was aware of this, and she didn¡¯t look concerned by the ongoings as she walked next to Krissy. Krissy, on the other hand, was as tense as one could be ¡ª she was hiding it well, but I could tell. And I was the only one who could see the tears forming in her eyes under the mask. I could only guess what it was like for her to make her way forward, with crying and cursing men dropping dead left and right with every step she took. I didn¡¯t think I had ever been as grateful to anyone as I was to her. She was doing this for me, for us, for our future, accepting both the rights and the wrongs of it, for better or for worse. *** I needed roughly 8000 EXP to reach Level 36. The rowers¡¯ deck had two-hundred-and-seven rowers still alive ¡ª this time I was counting. A hundred-and-eighty of them gave me the 7200 EXP I needed to reach Level 36, and the last twenty-seven unfortunate souls became another extra 800 EXP I banked, ready to be used for Level 37 sometime in the future. Hold on. 800 EXP? Shouldn¡¯t it have been 1000? I did my best to recalculate, and I found that that at least five human souls¡¯ worth of EXP had gone missing. Was I leaking somewhere? Or the bank, in other words the place or organ or whatever it was in my actual body where excess soul-stuff was stored, had developed some problems? Or perhaps ¡ª and I considered it the most likely reason ¡ª was Hank somehow skimming my income without me noticing it? With my consciousness being in my avatar body currently, I had very little awareness of what was going on with my spirit-world-self beyond feeling my storage rooms, a few other things, and to a lesser extent, Hank himself. I¡¯d have to investigate the mysterious case of the missing EXP soon ¡ª not because I desperately needed it, but because I wanted to know if Hank was involved. But first, since I was bursting with all the consumed soul-stuff, I had to do the level-up. Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 35 to Level 36. For the first time, I did not feel the same excitement or the sense of accomplishment as I had with my previous level-ups. So, I just got on with it, not wasting time and soul, and chose to grow my body. I wasn¡¯t sure how much my actual body and tentacles were growing in the Spirit World, but my avatar¡¯s spherical body grew to almost a whole meter in diameter, providing a better platform for my twelve tentacles. My primary Essence Pool grew from 72EP to 80EP max, my secondary, artificial Essence Pool staying at 70EP. My Mana Pool expanded from 48MP to 54MP, which was quite good. I sighed inwardly as Krissy stopped at the end of the rowers¡¯ deck, the entrance to some storage spaces in front of us. I stuck a tentie inside to check, but there was no-one hiding there, so I let my host take a few moments to collect herself. The marines stopped a good ten metres behind us, not daring to come any closer. I let out a bitter chuckle into the voice chat as I thought how easily I could reach them if I stretched myself a bit. Not that I had any intention of doing anything to them. I definitely preferred the company of rangers, though; they were much more accustomed to spirit-kills than these guys, and much less concerned about what I could do. After half a minute of standing in silence, Krissy shuddered once, then straightened herself and asked, So, all that¡¯s left for us to check is the hold, isn¡¯t it? Chapter Ninety-four Chapter Ninety-four With the rower¡¯s deck now devoid of any living occupants, the hold was the last place we needed to check. I asked Krissy to walk back towards the front of the ship so I could take a peek to see if any enemies were hiding down below. She did as I asked, her pace slow and sombre, the dead slaves in the rowing pits glaring at us with lifeless, glassy eyes. The marine contingent gave us a wide berth, letting us pass them, then following us cautiously from a safe distance, murmuring between themselves about the unearthly massacre they had just witnessed, and complaining about the nightmares they were sure to have for the foreseeable future. As Krissy trod forward on the raised walkway, I stuck a few of my tenties through the floor looking for enemies. The hold was dark, crammed with crates and barrels, the few oil lanterns hanging from the support beams freshly snuffed out, small wisps of smoke still emanating from the wicks. Someone was definitely trying to hide here. Luckily, my vision ¡ª while nowhere near as good as an elf¡¯s ¡ª didn¡¯t require a lot of light. After about twenty metres from where we started, just before the mizzenmast¡¯s thick pole, I found the last remnants of the enemy. Seven barbarians ¡ª two elves and five humans ¡ª squatting amongst scattered barrels. At their feet, tied up and whimpering, were more slaves. Twenty of them, all elves. Older slaves, or those born in captivity, wouldn¡¯t have been restrained in such a manner, unless working the oars, so I figured they must have been a fresh batch. It crossed my mind that they could even be from Solace. The barbarians of course had their weapons in their hands, curved and straight bladed daggers, all aimed at the immobilised slaves on the floor, either to make sure they were quiet, or in an attempt to hold them hostages against the rescue party. I told Krissy to stop right above the spot and to call the marine officer closer. The man ¡ª very reluctantly ¡ª came to stand next to us, and Krissy relayed my findings to him, as well as my plan to simultaneously kill all seven barbarians. The man shuddered but agreed that it would be prudent to dispose of the enemy as quickly as possible, and I was happy that my last kills on this ship were going to be armed hostage-takers instead of helpless rowers. I positioned seven of my tentacles right above the seven barbarians and spent a moment or two to assess the situation. Two of them had their weapons right at the throats of their prospective victims, but once I snatched their souls, I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d have the time to stab or cut. However, I concluded that their blades would drop right onto the throats of the poor, captured elves, and due to the weight of their lifeless arms, they could cause serious damage, or if they were really unlucky, even their deaths. The old saying was true: gravity was a bitch. Sometimes. So, I stuck another two tentacles down into the hold, positioning them around those two blades, ready for action. The barbarians were all quiet, looking up at the ceiling, probably trying to determine what was going on upstairs. A couple of them were whispering something, and while I didn¡¯t understand their bastardised language halfway between Treini and Orkish, I could tell they were nervous, and nervous hostage-takers were usually bad news for the hostages. There was no point waiting. I plunged seven tentacles into the souls of the seven miscreants while sending Mana to coat the other two. Then, as I pulled seven souls out of seven bodies, I knocked the two daggers away from the necks of two elves on the ground. The blades clattered away, the bodies collapsed, some of them on top of the restrained captives. The panicked screams of the hostages were so loud even Krissy and the marines could hear it through the thick floorboards. Krissy informed our escorts that the deed was done, and they were all too happy to leave us behind and storm the hold through the nearest hatch. At the same time, Krissy and Kiwa decided this was a good time to leave the two-hundred dead rowers behind and go back to the quarterdeck for some fresh air. *** The seven barbarians in the hold had given me 320 EXP. I had felt it flowing through my avatar body as my tentacles slurped up the liquidised souls, and I felt it land in what I called ¡°the bank¡±, whatever organ or storage room that was. There was, however, a small problem. Once again, the amount of soul-stuff arriving in the bank was worth only 200 EXP, bringing my savings up to 1000 EXP, which meant 120 EXP ¡ª or two and a half human souls worth of the stuff ¡ª had gone missing under mysterious circumstances. Or maybe not so mysterious; I was sure Hank was taking some of it. Somehow. What I wasn¡¯t sure of was whether I should confront him about it now or sometime later. Krissy was already up on the quarterdeck, taking deep breaths of the fresh, salty air, watching as the marines brought up the first of the hostages from the hold. No-one approached us to give orders or make requests, and it seemed like we had nothing to do for the moment, so I decided I would not leave this matter for later. ¡®Hank!¡¯ I called out to my annoying roommate. ¡®What¡¯s up, bro?¡¯ He answered quickly. ¡®Are you skimming the soul-stuff I¡¯m eating?¡¯ I asked him without any preamble, opting for the direct approach. ¡®Oh, you noticed that?¡¯ he said as nonchalantly as I¡¯d ever heard him, not even trying to deny it. Typical, bloody Hank. Of course he was skimming it. ¡®Why?¡¯ I asked him. ¡®What do you mean why? You¡¯re not the only one who¡¯s been working hard, you know, so give your brother a break. I deserve a little bit of it. I¡¯m Hank.¡¯ ¡®What are you doing with it?¡¯ I inquired. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡®A little home improvement,¡¯ he said, his words giving me the impression of him shrugging. ¡®Don¡¯t get me wrong, bro, I like what you¡¯ve done with the place, well, after I told you what to do with the place, but it needs some ¡­ homey touches.¡¯ ¡®Homey touches? Like what?¡¯ I was taken aback, and I didn¡¯t believe him for a second. ¡®Nice, fluffy, delicious soul-stuff to stock my kitchen. I¡¯m sure you can understand that,¡¯ he said in a sing-song voice. ¡®You don¡¯t want your brother to live in squalor, do you?¡¯ Alright, what are you two up to? Krissy joined our conversation, and she didn¡¯t sound happy. Maybe I should have taken this argument to our more-or-less private KHIM channel. Is this just some of your weird spirit-fuckery, or should I be worried? She demanded. ¡®Yeah, you should,¡¯ I said instantly and without hesitation. ¡®No, you shouldn¡¯t,¡¯ Hank said at the same time. Which is it? Krissy groaned like a mother whose two boys were accusing each other of the same wrongdoing. ¡®You have nothing to worry about, I have your best interest at heart. I¡¯m ¡­ we are your familiars,¡¯ Hank replied first, his voice calm. He even managed to take that monster-y, growly quality out of it somehow, and that ¡ª along with the statement itself ¡ª managed to fan the flames of my suspicions even more. ¡®You don¡¯t have a heart, Hank,¡¯ I reminded him while furiously trying to find a way to explain the situation to Krissy. ¡®Neither do you, bro, we¡¯re spirits,¡¯ Hank retorted. And he wasn¡¯t wrong. ¡®Krissy, listen, don¡¯t trust anyone who so casually says he¡¯s got your best interests at heart, alright? He¡¯s up to something, and I don¡¯t know what it is, and that worries me,¡¯ I said, but even I found my reasoning feeble. So did Hank. ¡®Oh, come on brother! Where do you think we are? In some badly written fantasy adventure where anything anyone says is sinister foreshadowing? You can¡¯t be serious!¡¯ The idiot-horror protested, his voice tinged with a bit of condescension. ¡®If that¡¯s what you think, then go complain to whoever writes this shit.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s not what I meant, you ass!¡¯ I snapped at him, my anger finally starting to rise. ¡®You¡¯re taking EXP, and I don¡¯t know what for.¡¯ ¡®I have my needs. Like everyone else,¡¯ he said, sounding like he was offended. Or pretending he was offended. What a manipulative bastard of a brother! That¡¯s enough, enough and enough! Krissy hissed into the voice-chat, rubbing her temples. Too loud. If you¡¯re going to argue about your food, can you do it some other time? Maybe when I¡¯m sleeping? And maybe use another of those comm-nodes? Please?¡¯ Both Hank and I fell silent, and a certain ork captain used the pause to butt in. Oooi! Yer gonna fuggen lemme outa here, or what? I ain¡¯t likin¡¯ this Hell-place. *** It seemed it weren¡¯t just Hank and I who thought Krissy needed a little peace and quiet, albeit for different reasons ¡ª every marine on the quarterdeck of the galley avoided her like the plague, shooting only glances at her, their eyes betraying how much they had come to fear the masked spiritualists on this day. Their unjustified trepidation aside, Krissy did look like she needed to be left alone for a while to process the events of the past hour. The fight for the ork ship had been as intense as it had been short, and I understood why it might have shaken her, despite this not being her first time killing barbarians. Even Kiwa saw it fit to keep her distance, choosing to walk around the deck and creeping the hell out of the poor marines with the laughing-mask she was still wearing. Krissy sat quietly on a small crate, leaning against the guardrail at the edge, watching the sky slowly turn orange as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon. Misery-mask still covering her face, I was the only one who saw and heard her occasional sobs and sniffs. I felt tempted to think that with time and experience she¡¯d get used to this sort of thing, maybe even become a Chuck Norris-Terminator hybrid like Fenirig Arte. After all the things we¡¯d been through, it was easy to forget that she was a nineteen year old woman ¡ª maybe twenty now ¡ª and perhaps this kind of life wasn¡¯t the best for her. Unfortunately, our foreseeable future contained similar fights and struggles, and while I knew I could protect Krissy, at least physically, I worried that even if we won every fight, she might lose in other ways. Was there anything I could do about it? Maybe, maybe not. Another thing I could do very little about at the moment, was Hank. I was one hundred percent sure he was up to no good, but I couldn¡¯t figure out what it was he was plotting. I had limited awareness of the ongoings in our body in the Spirit World: I had a sense of my pools and rooms as I¡¯d always had. Following Hank¡¯s instructions I¡¯d even managed to re-arrange them completely. I could also feel when Hank¡¯s weird spirit-tendrils came too close to my human soul, and I could repel them at will and by will ¡ª although he hadn¡¯t tried to do this ever since his forced evolution. Other than that, my consciousness and my senses resided within my avatar body here in material reality. In other words, if it didn¡¯t involve my soul, my rooms and my pools, I had no idea what Hank was doing, apart from somehow piggybacking on my senses so he could see and hear what I could. Well, whatever he was up to, he wasn¡¯t going to share it with me, that was for sure, and I was racking my brain for a solution. In vain. Did I regret facilitating Hank in becoming the intelligent, even cunning little person he was now? I wasn¡¯t sure. He was helpful in some ways, that I had to admit. I supposed only time would tell whether the pros outweighed the cons or not. I decided I¡¯d let the matter rest for today, partly for Krissy¡¯s sake, and partly because I hoped that if I focused on something else, inspiration would come like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. So, I watched as the marines brought up all twenty of the hostages from the hold, surgeons rushing over to examine them. Krissy watched it too, and I was happy to see a small smile appearing on her face as the freed elves ¡ª young men and women ¡ª were thanking the marines for their rescue, crying and shaking still. From the many conversations taking place around us, I learned that the hostages we¡¯d rescued were indeed from Solace, and it seemed to have been a great morale boost for the navy personnel. The surgeons then ushered them over to the Furious Fist to be cleaned and clothed properly, and I noticed some of the marines were re-evaluating their stance on Krissy and Kiwa. Then I saw a ranger walking across the plank that connected the Furious Fist to the ork galley. The rangers had been relegated to work together with the marine archers, and not a single one of them had taken part in the boarding operation. The first ranger to set foot on the ork ship plonked down on the quarterdeck and beelined to Krissy. ¡®Krissintha!¡¯ Tovaron Ento called her as he arrived to stand in front of us. She looked up at him but said nothing. ¡®Are you alright?¡¯ She nodded, slowly and unconvincingly. Toven looked her over, her cape and mask covered in dry, red and black blood, and he tried to look into her eyes, but the mask was in the way ¡ª I rectified that immediately by pulling it into Jack¡¯s Room. Toven¡¯s eyes narrowed as he finally saw her properly. ¡®You¡¯re not looking too good,¡¯ he said, not rudely but with fatherly concern. ¡®Let¡¯s go back and clean you up. And you look like you could use a drink.¡¯ Chapter Ninety-five Chapter Ninety-five Up until now I had the elves pegged as teetotal; we had spent almost a year in Solace, and I had never once seen an elf consume alcohol. Tea-houses were the most popular venues, and even in restaurants I had not seen wine or beer on the menus. But shortly after the battle for The Raagh¡¯s Indisputable Pigheadedness, the elves proved me wrong. The crew was working on repairs, but kegs were popping up from thin air aboard the Furious Fist, many taking breaks to have a swig of whatever the drink was, and those who did, looked instantly happier. I recalled Kenta or Tommi mentioning that elves didn¡¯t handle alcohol too well, and considering they were generally peaceful and mild mannered people ¡ª except for the Fenars ¡ª I supposed letting them drink after a vicious battle was a good way for them to take the edge off, blow off some steam, and protect their psyches from the horrors of war as well as help mourn their fallen comrades. Well, regardless of the reasons, a navy ship wasn¡¯t a navy ship without rum flowing like a river, in my humble opinion, so I approved of this new phenomenon. Although, I wasn¡¯t sure it was rum they were drinking. I¡¯d have to investigate this at some point. It seemed that along with the alcohol induced good mood, rumours were also spreading ¡ª probably courtesy of the marines who had seen my eating spree ¡ª and sailors who had previously been indifferent towards us, got out of our way in a hurry as Krissy walked along the deck. They were looking at her as if she was an unholy amalgamation of Bin Laden, Jack the Ripper and Tom Cruise. In sharp contrast to that, nods and smiles of approval came from the rangers present on the deck, some even patting her on her shoulder, saying ¡°well done¡±. Krissy smiled at them, appreciating the praise. Kiwa caused quite a stir on the deck; she decided she deserved some of the booze, but the moment she approached the nearest group of drinking sailors, they scattered in a panic, taking the keg with them. Luckily, she was still in tentacle-range, and I took her jolly-mask back to Jack¡¯s Room. I was confident that showing her pretty face instead of the creepy-cool theater mask would give her a chance to obtain a few cups of the drink, and we left her to it. Once down in the crew quarters, Toven found a bucket of clean water and helped Krissy wash the blood and muck off her face and clothes as much as it was possible, and in relative privacy ¡ª the loitering crew members had fled upon seeing the ¡°soul killer¡± entering the place. Yep, that¡¯s what they were calling my host: the Soul Killer; a moniker that had been no doubt bestowed upon her by those few marines who had been with us on the rower¡¯s deck. I supposed the name was somewhat accurate, and it had a better ring to it then ¡°Misery the Ruthless¡±, as the rangers tended to refer to her. What the marines had got wrong was the person; Krissy hadn¡¯t killed any souls; it was me who had done that. But couldn¡¯t blame them for it; I was invisible to them, they probably weren¡¯t as knowledgeable about spirits as rangers were, so if they saw a masked figure walking along and everyone dropping dead around her, of course they would think it was her doing. Oh well, at least there was a bright side to this: no marine or sailor would ever give us a hard time about anything, that was for sure, not if they feared for their souls at all. A bad reputation was still a reputation. Kiwa dropped down through the hatch, favouring Mana over the ladder, landed in a weird superhero-type pose, and by some miracle she managed not to spill a single drop of booze from the cups she was holding in each hand. She wobbled over to us, barely avoiding getting caught in the numerous empty hammocks stretching between posts. The grin on her face was suspicious, her eyes a bit too red and glossy. She handed one of the cups to Krissy while taking a swig from the other. ¡®Try thiiissss, boooossss!¡¯ she squealed, the words drawn out and slightly blurred. Krissy and Toven just stared at her in disbelief. ¡®Okay, how much did she have?¡¯ I turned to Tilry, who was hovering behind her as usual, managing to look guilty without having a proper face. ¡®Uhhh ¡­ I tried, but she didn¡¯t listen.¡¯ The familiar went on the defensive immediately. ¡®She told the sailors she¡¯d take their souls if they didn¡¯t relinquish the whole keg to her.¡¯ ¡®Oh yeaaaah! They ran like cowaaaards!¡¯ Kiwa cheered and almost fell over, this time spilling a little bit of her drink, but she steadied herself. Sort of. ¡®Shiiit! Get back in the cuuup!¡¯ she yelled, glowering at the small, alcoholic puddle at her feet. She then shrugged, downed the rest of the drink and chucked the cup at one of the posts, grinning like an idiot. ¡®What? The whole keg? How is she still alive?¡¯ I asked, staring at the woman. ¡®It wasn¡¯t full, almost empty in fact,¡¯ the spirit replied. ¡®Luckily.¡¯ ¡®Is this any good? What is this?¡¯ Krissy inquired, sniffing the contents of the cup in her hand. Toven ¡ª who wasn¡¯t included in our voice chat at this time ¡ª shrugged. ¡®That¡¯s Milkysip,¡¯ he informed us, realising quickly that the name needed an explanation, and added, ¡®Because it tastes like sweetened milk. It goes down easily, but it¡¯s strong, and if you don¡¯t know when to stop ¡­¡¯ he said, nodding his head at Kitala Iwani, presenting her as the proof of his point. As if on cue, the woman promptly fell across the nearest low-hanging hammock like a sack of potatoes, her arms and legs sweeping the floor as she was swinging on it, muttering something unintelligible. Krissy shrugged and took a sip of the drink. ¡®Oh, it¡¯s nice ¡­¡¯ she began to say, but her face quickly distorted, coughed a few times and delivered her verdict. ¡®It burns.¡¯ It was definitely some sort of distilled drink. ¡®Careful there,¡¯ Toven warned, reaching out to take the cup away from her. ¡®Humans handle drinks like this a lot better, but too much of it can still bring a lot of misery for Misery by tomorrow morning.¡¯ The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡®Haha, funny.¡¯ Krissy rolled her eyes then took another sip of the apparently sweet but strong drink. ¡®Alright, alright, that¡¯s enough now. The Fenars are waiting for you to explain what in the hell you did to the captain of the galley. I don¡¯t think you should do that drunk.¡¯ Toven suggested. I was pleased to hear I wasn¡¯t the only one referring to the father-daughter duo of epic vulgarity and violence as ¡°The Fenars¡±. And he had a point: getting drunk before a meeting with Fenar and Fenar would be a bad idea. Luckily, a few sips of the elvish liqueur weren¡¯t enough to rob Krissy of sobriety. She handed the cup to Toven, who then put it down on a nearby crate. She shot a glance at the now unconscious Kiwa, shook her head and said, ¡®Let¡¯s get this over with then.¡¯ *** Krissy and Toven stood on the quarterdeck in the middle of a space the crew had cleared for us. Four sailors were on standby next to us, ready to shackle Raagstrom Raagh the moment I¡¯d bring his body out of storage. I wasn¡¯t too happy to have his body in Jack¡¯s Room: he was large, and the place was already stacked with food, clothes, all our money and a lot of knick-knacks I had collected over the past year, so it was kind of full. My Spirit Room was less crowded, having two prototype soul-shields and the remnants of my old spirit-costume, but with the ork¡¯s soul in there, it was also dangerously close to full capacity. Master Fenirig Arte, Captain Fenirig Arla, Captain Rimarle Alas and Fifi were a few steps behind us, along with a bunch of marines and rangers, all ready to pounce at the first sign of failure to restrain the ork. Honestly, we could have done this whole interrogation business without having to bring Raagstrom Raagh out; all it would have required was to connect the officers to the voice chat, and they could have had all the fun talking to the brute¡¯s soul without any of the risks. But it seemed the elves had all bought Krissy¡¯s makeshift explanation about the green guy actually being in hell, and they decided that bringing him back for an in-the-flesh conversation was the way to go. Which required them to be on the voice-chat anyway. But who was I to argue with the illustrious leaders of the elven expedition, so I readied myself and hoped shoving the soul back into the body would work just as it had worked with the pug. At least this time I wasn¡¯t drunk. So, under the watchful eyes of everyone on the Furious Fist ¡ª not that they could see anything I was doing ¡ª I reached into Jack¡¯s Room and willed the body of the brute out of it. The green mass of muscle appeared as if out of nowhere, about half a meter above the flooring of the deck and plonked down unceremoniously. The four sailors, instead of rushing to put the restraints on the arms and legs, just stood there with their mouths open in astonishment. Even Master Fenar and the ship captains looked taken aback by this. ¡®Krissy, can you ¡­¡¯ I began to ask my host to spur the sailors into action, but she understood what I wanted before I could finish the sentence. ¡®Hey, don¡¯t just stand there!¡¯ She turned to the crew members. That snapped them back to reality, and the four elves quickly put wooden shackles on the big guy¡¯s arms and legs and put some chains and ropes as well for good measure. When they were satisfied that the seemingly lifeless body wouldn¡¯t be able to break free when revived, I got to the good part. I willed my Spirit Room to release Raagstrom Raagh¡¯s soul. This part was easy. The soul appeared in front of me, right at the tip of one of my tentacles. The hard part was to put it back into the body. I only vaguely remembered how I¡¯d done it with Fifi, but it had worked at that time, and if I could do it while drunk, I could do it now. I used all my tenties to push the soul back into the body. The greenish, ethereal, translucent replica of the ork didn¡¯t fit snugly into the body at first, but I was able to move the spiritual limbs around, almost like an action figure, and in the end, I made it fit. And nothing happened; Raagstrom Raagh did not show any signs of coming back to life. I had really thought ¡ª or hoped ¡ª this would be a cut-and-paste kind of thing. Clearly, it wasn¡¯t. ¡®Bro, you¡¯ve done it wrong,¡¯ Hank said, almost laughing. ¡®Yeah? You think you know better?¡¯ I scoffed at him, knowing full well that I had done it wrong. Somehow. ¡®Of course I do. I¡¯m Hank,¡¯ the answer came as expected. ¡®Let me use one of our tentacles. I¡¯ll fix this in a jiffy. We¡¯ve got about thirty seconds before the soul starts to degrade or the body dies properly.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re not having a tentacle,¡¯ I refused instantly. ¡®You¡¯d just eat everyone.¡¯ ¡®No, I wouldn¡¯t,¡¯ he wailed, sounding offended in the extreme. Enough of this! Hank, tell him how to fix this, we¡¯ll talk about tentacles later! Krissy stepped in before we could start arguing in earnest, and she did not sound happy. It made sense; she would be the one facing all the elven officers, having to come up with a plausible explanation why Raagstrom Raagh was dead after bringing him back from ¡°hell¡± for the interrogation, and I imagined she wanted to avoid that. ¡®Fine,¡¯ Hank said after half a second of hesitation. ¡®But we¡¯ll talk about the tentacles later, Krissy is my witness.¡¯ ¡®Fine.¡¯ I agreed. ¡®Alright then, bro,¡¯ Hank began, suddenly cheerful again. ¡®See those weird looking, darker green nodes in the head and chest area?¡¯ ¡®Yeah? What¡¯s with them?¡¯ ¡®Well, my darling little brother, that¡¯s where the souls connect to the body. In the brain and in the heart.¡¯ ¡®Okay,¡¯ I acknowledged, and I reached for those nodes with two tentacles, but Hank screamed at me to stop. ¡®The hell you¡¯re doing bro? Don¡¯t touch them directly like that! Get some Essence and some Mana ready!¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ how much?¡¯ I asked, a little confused. ¡®Half an EP and a quarter of an MP, then split that in half and sprinkle them on the two nodes separately.¡¯ ¡®Sprinkle?¡¯ ¡®Splash, splatter, spread, sprinkle, just make sure they are in contact with the nodes, and the soul will do the rest,¡¯ he groaned at me, as if this was all self-evident and I somehow should have known all this. But there wasn¡¯t a lot of time left: less than ten seconds before the soul would begin to break down, so I did what Hank told me to do. I dropped the amount of EP and MP onto the nodes, and I was amazed that the nodes immediately sucked it in like a sponge. A second later a bunch of little soul-tendrils sprung forth from them, forming a web and permeating the creature¡¯s heart and brain. Then, lo and behold, Raagstrom Raagh was whole again, and his large chest started to rise and fall. ¡®Oh, look! He¡¯s breathing!¡¯ I called out excitedly and unnecessarily. ¡®Yep, good job, bro, good job,¡¯ Hank commended me with a flat voice. I tried to recall if I had even seen the nodes when I¡¯d done this with the pug, but I couldn¡¯t. Maybe I had, but I¡¯d been too drunk to realise? I wasn¡¯t sure. But this time, I would remember how this worked. Some of the elves ¡ª mostly sailors ¡ª gasped as the arms and legs of the brute twitched a few times before he opened his eyes and stared at the darkening sky above. The ork captain groaned loudly, and his thoughts filled the voice-chat once again. Aaay, I ain¡¯t likin¡¯ that shitty gank-hell. He stated. Phew. It worked. All I had to do now was to facilitate the interrogation. So, I connected the two captains and Master Fenar to the voice chat. The boss of Third Rangers was of course used to this, but Fenirig Arla and Rimarle Alas shuddered as if I had poured a bucket of icy water on them. Good thing they couldn¡¯t see my tentacles rummaging around in their souls as I attached my threads to the comm-nodes in there, and I didn¡¯t wait for their complaints and questions to come. ¡®All yours. One Raagstrom Raagh ready to go,¡¯ I announced. Chapter Ninety-six Chapter Ninety-six ¡®Oi! That¡¯s mah ship! Whatcha doin¡¯ to it ya ganks?¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh demanded answers from the elves surrounding him. He had managed to sit up despite his shackles, and quite accurately observed that the Raagh¡¯s Indisputable Lameness was still sandwiched between the Furious Fist and the Righteous Wrath, and crews from both ships were swarming on it. From what I could see, some of the elven sailors were looting it for anything that might be usable, but some of them ¡ª probably naval engineers or thereabouts ¡ª were preparing to sink it. I wasn¡¯t sure how they were planning to do it, but it seemed a number of large, metal tools and a bit of fire would be involved. At this point I had no doubt the few orks that had surrendered, and their slaves, had been committed to the sea, so the galley was either going to become a ghost ship riding the currents or sink to the bottom. The ork captain, however, seemed to feel very strongly about his ship, and his barrage of demands didn¡¯t let up. ¡®Answer me ya ganks! Where¡¯s mah crew? Ya ain¡¯t gonna be gettin¡¯ away with this! Imma crush yer skulls!¡¯ To most of the marines and rangers the ork¡¯s speech must have sounded like foreign words spoken by a wild beast that had swallowed a bucket of gravel, but to those included in the voice-chat, Raaghstrom Raagh¡¯s thoughts overlapping his growls and grunts, made his meanings clear. ¡®This is incredible. I¡¯ve never thought it possible to understand the barbarians,¡¯ Captain Fenirig Arla said quietly to his father, who stood next to her. Captain Rimarle Alas just nodded, his eyes glued to the restrained ork in front of us, poor little Fifi in his arms growling at the green creature like there was no tomorrow. Krissy¡¯s mouth curled up in a small but satisfied smile. I personally wasn¡¯t convinced; the slaves didn¡¯t seem to have a problem understanding their greenskinned masters, in fact, they themselves used a language that was a mixture of Orkish and Treini. But I supposed this was a fairly unimportant detail. ¡®I remember when these fuckers first appeared,¡¯ Fenirig Arte said with the voice of those reminiscing about a long-lost past. ¡®Right when we were fighting that evil god, when Fayr-Sitan was fragmenting and Fentys was falling apart. None of us were too happy about having to deal with the greens on top of everything else, I can tell you that.¡¯ His daughter nodded knowingly; I had no doubt she had heard this story a few times growing up, but to me, this was news. I recalled Fenar¡¯s wife, Korolan Mirei, talking about this during our almost pleasant dinner with her and Wensah. Setting aside the fact that the evil god in question was or had been an overgrown Tentacle Horror, this meant that orks were relative newcomers in the world, didn¡¯t it? Had they only been here for two hundred or so years? If so, where had they come from? My natural first reaction of course was: ¡°Ha! Wensah did it¡±. If the orks were from another world like I was, and knowing Wensah had been involved in the fight against the Tentacle-god, then it kind of made sense. The problem with this was that Wensah had been Korolan Mirei¡¯s familiar at the time, and as such, I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d had the ability to cross whatever boundary was there between worlds or dimensions. Maybe she had learned it from the Tentacle-god? Or from someone or something else? Or was it an ability a spirit could gain in the process of becoming a god? Whatever was the case, in her current state as a grand spirit or godling, she was able to conduct interdimensional raids to pick up stray souls, so there was that. I was sure it had something to do with Black Essence as well; the substance was basically the sole building material for portals to the Spirit World, and gods had the means to produce it. It even occurred to me that my own, tiny portal inside me was artificial, put there by Wensah, so I could maintain an avatar in the material world. Yeah, these were possible answers, answers that generated even more questions. ¡®State your name!¡¯ Master Fenirig Arte addressed the ork, saying the words aloud as well as sending his thoughts through the voice chat. That derailed my train of thoughts, and I decided it was better to focus on the here and now instead of venturing into the realm of conspiracy-theories. ¡®I¡¯m Raagstrom Raagh, ya gank!¡¯ the answer came. Fenirig Arte stepped closer to the ork, whose head was almost level with his, even though the beast was sitting. ¡®You¡¯ll be answering my questions,¡¯ the Master of Third Rangers informed him in a matter-of-fact tone. ¡®I ain¡¯t doin¡¯ shit! Gimme back mah ship ya fuggen ¡­¡¯ the ork captain unleashed the beginnings of a presumably long tirade, but Fenar cut him short by kicking him in the face so hard the creature fell back and slid a whole meter on the floor. The scarfaced elf then placed one foot on the coughing-swearing ork¡¯s chest, and said, ¡®I hope you enjoyed being in hell.¡¯ ¡®I ain¡¯t likin¡¯ that place,¡¯ the ork said, shuddering visibly as he lay on the ground. I was proud of my Spirit Room, and I briefly considered renaming it to ¡°Hell¡± or ¡°Purgatory¡±, or something equally sinister. ¡®Good. Now, listen fuckface, if I don¡¯t get the answers I want, Misery here will take you back there right away, and you¡¯ll never see the land of the living again. Sound good?¡¯ Fenar threatened the ork. Raagstrom Raagh didn¡¯t so much as calm down, he became as still as a statue, staring up at Fenirig Arte with his black eyes wide. After a few seconds of that, he breathed out and said, ¡®I¡¯ll answer yer fuggen questions, ya gank. Hell ain¡¯t nice.¡¯ Fenirig Arte glanced at Krissy, the look in his eyes conveying something like ¡°we¡¯ll talk about this hell business later¡±, then he turned back to the ork. ¡®Let¡¯s begin then.¡¯ *** The first five minutes of the so-called interrogation made it clear that Master Fenar knew exactly how to talk to orks and didn¡¯t need anyone¡¯s help. The amount of swearing and threats flying back and forth between them would have put any Quentin Tarantino film to shame. Both Krissy and I had missed the interrogation of the late Orkuz Graal back in Solace, but now we knew how it must have been conducted. I wondered if Wensah had been actively involved in the questioning ¡ª she was rather good at insulting people after all ¡ª or just provided the connection like I was doing it now. Either way, there was nothing for us to do, so Krissy sat down on a crate, and we just watched Fenar work his magic. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Ten minutes into the insult-marathon, Captain Fenirig Arla and Captain Rimarle Alas finally realised they wouldn¡¯t get a single word in, so they too stepped back a bit and observed the ongoings without getting involved. Half-an-hour into it, most of the marines and rangers started to look bored; unlike those of us on the voice-chat, they could only understand whatever Fenar chose to say out loud ¡ª which wasn¡¯t everything ¡ª while the garbled mess of a language the ork used was an ugly enigma to everyone. I, on the other hand, had to give my grudging respect to Fenirig Arte; he was extracting information from the ork like a boss, his questions wrapped in colourful insults, and the poor green sod probably wasn¡¯t even aware that he was answering them. Honestly, orks didn¡¯t strike me as stupid creatures, despite their mannerisms, instead, they were simple and straightforward with an unhealthy dose of belligerence and cruelty on top, and Fenar took full advantage of it. Soon we were getting a picture of what we could expect from Orkland. It corroborated the information we had got from Orkuz Graal, but it seemed the late captain had left a few things out. We already knew that the culprit behind the raid on Solace was the Vraathkill Clan, one of several ork clans occupying the lands north of the Fentys Alliance. They had a small town with the imaginative name ¡°The Harbour¡±, where their single port and all shipbuilding capabilities were located. Of course, orkish mind- and skillset was more geared towards killing and destroying than building, but they were fully aware of this and had a workaround: slaves. More specifically: human slaves. Many of the humans they had enslaved were trained, talented, innovative craftsmen, so their captors had them design and build stuff, as well as teach new generations of slaves their trades. The same principle was used in orkish agriculture, manufacturing, mining and pretty much everything else. For this reason, orks considered skilled human slaves valuable, almost as much as elven slaves, who were stronger, faster, had a much longer lifespan, and could be used as fighters. From our point of view, the biggest problem was that most current slaves had been born in captivity and were well integrated into their society ¡ª if integration was the right word to use here. To them, life was revolving around the clan, and they would fight for their masters to the bitter end. So, we had to consider them enemy combatants, and if we were to destroy the Vraathkill Clan¡¯s port as well as their shipbuilding industry, it would mean a lot of dead slaves. Well, it was what it was. Much like in any clan, the Vraathkill leadership was centralised, but unlike in other clans, it was a bunch of spiritualists in charge ¡ª courtesy of Sivera¡¯s meddling in orkish politics ¡ª and no regular ork was strong enough to challenge them. Orkuz Graal had made no secret of his distaste for the so-called ¡°mystics¡± and their horrid gang, but according to Raagstrom Raagh, he had greatly downplayed the number of spiritualists they had. The late ork captain had placed their numbers somewhere between ten and fifteen, serving under two ¡°shamans¡±, who were supposedly taking their orders from Sivera herself. Raagstrom Raagh seemed to think there were at least twice as many spiritualists, and he wasn¡¯t convinced Sivera was giving them orders at all. He seemed to believe the weird godling didn¡¯t really care what was happening in the clan, and the shamans were simply doing the ¡°ork thing¡±, using their superiour, Mana-aided fighting skills to hold onto their power. I could easily imagine that being true; provided Sivera had the same motivation as Wensah ¡ª which was to get as many familiars out there to collect Essence for her ¡ª I didn¡¯t see why she would care about orkish politics, as long as Essence was flowing her way. But that wasn¡¯t the main issue. Centralised power translated to how their settlements and facilities were arranged throughout the territory they controlled, and that was something the Solace rangers had to take into account while planning their raid. From The Harbour a single road ran all the way to the main town or city called Vraathblood. The place was some ten miles inland, north-west of The Harbour. And that was it. The only city in Vraathkill territory. Everything was concentrated there so that the ruling class of mystics could keep an eye on everything all at once. The rest of the territory was farmlands, woodlands, small settlements and outposts at the borders, populated by ork warriors and numerous slaves to guard against incursions from other clans. The Vraathkill Clan was basically running a city-state, bearing similarities both to ancient Sparta and some medieval European city-states ¡ª if I recalled high-school history lessons correctly. Needless to say, the main target of our expedition, the slave market, was also in Vraathblood. This we had known from Orkuz Graal, but again, he had downplayed the size, the population and the general readiness to respond to our raid. Unfortunately, the shamans and their mystics had a loyal and sizable following of regular orks, incentivised by the prospect of receiving familiars themselves. The captain wasn¡¯t exactly sure, but he thought no more than nine or ten families, which meant well over a hundred and fifty orks. It didn¡¯t change the fact that every ork and almost every slave in the city was a threat, but the henchmen-orks would be somewhat more zealous in carrying out orders from the leadership. I wasn¡¯t surprised Raagstrom Raagh had no love for them, just as Orkuz Graal had none; the families that had chosen to become henchmen of the spiritualists enjoyed a lot of advantages, while the rest had become second-class citizens, so to speak. Unlike in the glorious past of the clan, families whose specialty was seafaring were now considered no more than delivery boys who could transport ork merchants ¡ª or ¡°tradinfuggaz¡± ¡ª and their goods from A to B on sea. Based on the accounts of Raagstrom Raagh ¡ª and of Orkuz Graal to a lesser extent ¡ª orkish society used to be quite the shining beacon of equality: every ork had the opportunity to challenge the leadership, and good positions were just a fistfight away, if the challenger was strong enough to win it. That had changed with the introduction of familiars. But that was just a tangent Fenirig Arte shut down in short order, moving onto important things, like the defences of the city of Vraathblood. As it turned out, Raagstrom Raagh knew as little about the current state of Vraathblood as Orkuz Graal; his family was based in a small village-type community close to The Harbour, and he hadn¡¯t visited the city in the decade since the spiritualists had taken over. That was disappointing, although it made sense, but at least he gave us a general idea where to find the marketplace and the slave-pens. On top of that, he also told us about Fort Vraath, where the spiritualists, including two shamans, would be sure to spill out from to respond to our attack. ¡®¡­ and I ain¡¯t rememberin¡¯ more,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh said with finality. It seemed he was all out of information to give. ¡®Are you sure about that, you worthless heap of hellbound flesh?¡¯ Fenirig Arte tried to push him a little more. ¡®Listen ¡®ere ya stinkin¡¯, pointy-ear fugger,¡¯ the ork growled at him, struggling against his restraints to no avail. ¡®Imma tell ya one thing: ya¡¯ll go bleedin¡¯ em mystics out, sure thing, but yer gonna be dyin doin¡¯ it. And when all yer fuggers go takin¡¯ the dirt-nap, the Vraathkill will be a proper clan again.¡¯ Hm. What a patriotic little ork. He didn¡¯t say it out loud, but it seemed some sort of revolution was brewing in greenskin society, Sivera¡¯s spiritualists just waiting to be overthrown. I silently wished good luck to him and his aggressive, oversized people, but even if they somehow succeeded, I had very little hope the new management would have human rights as its top priority. Well, it was what it was, and it was none of our business. Master Fenar turned his head to Krissy and said, ¡®To Hell with him!¡¯ It took us a moment to comprehend what he meant. I severed the connection to Master Fenar and the two captains, then I reached out with two tenties and performed the spiritual Ctrl-X again, taking the ork¡¯s soul back into my Spirit Room, and his body into Jack¡¯s Room. His loud, angry protestations reverberated in the voice-chat, making Krissy¡¯s face scrunch into a grimace. I knew she wouldn¡¯t like it, but I didn¡¯t want to kick him out of the chat yet, on the off chance he still had something useful to share. Fenirig Arte then turned to his daughter. The captain of the Furious Fist stretched her arms and legs after the long, and from her point of view, boring interrogation. ¡®With this detour, we¡¯re about two days from our destination,¡¯ she stated. ¡®I hope you got some useful information from the green asshole, because all I heard was grunts and burps.¡¯ Fenirig Arte smiled at his daughter. ¡®Just make sure we get there in one piece, and that your marines are ready.¡¯ He then turned to Krissy. ¡®Make sure you¡¯re ready as well. And we¡¯ll talk about this dragging people to Hell business later.¡¯ Chapter Ninety-seven Chapter Ninety-seven The sun was down, and evening was turning into night by the time the naval engineers finished rigging the Raagh¡¯s Impending Doom to sink. From what I could see, they had weakened certain parts of the ship by sawing and crushing important looking beams and structures, then set fire to those particular places and vacated the galley in a hurry. Sailors quickly severed the ropes and hooks connecting the Furious Fist as well as the Righteous Wrath to the ork vessel, unfurled some of the sails, and we pulled away from the doomed galley. I could see pretty well in the dark ¡ª my vision didn¡¯t depend on light only ¡ª and the elves basically had built in biological night-vision capabilities. The sailors and marines didn¡¯t seem very interested in the sinking galley, but almost all the rangers aboard were on the quarterdeck, watching. Krissy, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t able to see much, even though the night sky was mostly clear with a bright moon and a few million stars shining down on us, and she was too tired to properly listen to my running commentary on the fate of the ork ship. I didn¡¯t know what kind of fuel they had used to set those fires, but the flames were small and dim, and there was very little smoke. Whatever it was, the intent was clear: to not draw attention, be it day or night. Less than ten minutes later, when we were at least fifty metres away, the galley started letting out some loud, ungodly cracking sounds, and soon fell apart into three pieces. Then it sank. Some of the rangers hazarded half-hearted cheers, but by-and-large the Raagh¡¯s Uncontested Might went down rather unceremoniously. We waited a little for Master Fenirig Arte to pop up and fulfil his promise of questioning us about my ability to drag people to Hell, but much to Krissy¡¯s relief and to my disappointment, it didn¡¯t happen. I had prepared a whole speech about the nature of Hell as it was conceived in this world compared to the way major Earth religions saw it, and why my ability to put people into storage could be considered Hell and not Hell at the same time. But since the illustrious leader of Third Rangers had more important things to do than to discuss matters of the spirit, Krissy decided to call it a day and went down to the sleeping quarters, made sure Kiwa was tucked in nice and tight, then went to sleep. *** ¡®I think you need to talk to her. When she wakes up,¡¯ Tilry said to me, pointing at my sleeping host. ¡®About what?¡¯ I asked, kind of surprised by the spirit¡¯s sudden suggestion. ¡®Oh, is it about Mana?¡¯ Hank chimed in. ¡®Why da shit am I still bein¡¯ in boring-hell? Pointy-eared fugger said I¡¯d ¡­¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh began complaining again. ¡®Just stop being a gank and be quiet, will you?¡¯ I shut him down, then turned to Hank. ¡®Mana? What about it? You know something I don¡¯t?¡¯ ¡®Oh, come on, bro! Even Tilry noticed,¡¯ he said, sounding somewhat exasperated. ¡®Yeah? What¡¯s this about? And why didn¡¯t you say anything before?¡¯ I demanded. He sent a mental shrug my way. ¡®You should ask her if she is in pain, or at least discomfort,¡¯ Tilry explained, not letting Hank speak. ¡®There¡¯s a lot of residual Mana in her body and soul. She used too much of it during the fight. Especially that jump she made from one ship to the other.¡¯ ¡®Ok. Is it ¡­ bad?¡¯ I asked, not because they hadn¡¯t got the point across ¡ª of course it was bad, they wouldn¡¯t have brought it up otherwise ¡ª but because I had no idea what to say to such an unexpected development. ¡®Well, it¡¯s not good. She¡¯s human,¡¯ Tilry said, as if that explained everything. ¡®So?¡¯ I prompted her to continue. ¡®As in, she¡¯s not an elf,¡¯ she clarified her statement in a way befitting a three-year-old toddler. ¡®Yeah, I noticed. Why does it matter and what does it have to do with Mana?¡¯ ¡®Oh, sorry. So, uh, she¡¯s got better at drawing and controlling Mana, which isn¡¯t always easy, so that¡¯s good. But humans have weaker bodies, their souls are slightly different, and I think she used a lot more of it than a human should. I can sense residual Mana in her soul and body when she¡¯s close.¡¯ ¡®Okay, why is it bad?¡¯ ¡®Well, Mana usually dissipates and the Essence in the air absorbs it. The body and the soul occupy the same space, so the Mana she draws is both in her body and her soul. If it¡¯s inside the soul, it can¡¯t dissipate easily. If she takes more than she uses, some of it will be stuck, and it will affect both body and soul, and not necessarily in a good way.¡¯ I directed all my tentacles at Krissy, sleeping peacefully in her hammock next to the snoring Kiwa, and of course a few female rangers they shared a space with, and I focused all my senses on her. Knowing now what to look for, I too got a sense of some Mana lingering inside her. I couldn¡¯t believe I had not noticed this before; I had been handling Mana ever since I had become a spirit some three years ago, and to think that I overlooked something like this was annoying. On the other hand, it wasn¡¯t like I had a ¡°Being a familiar for Dummies¡± handbook, so, instead of being harsh on myself, I decided finding a solution was a more productive endeavour. ¡®What do I do?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Well, nothing really. It¡¯s bad, but not that bad yet. It¡¯s residual Mana, so it¡¯s sort of half-used. It will find its way out of her soul in a few days. But until then she shouldn¡¯t use any more of it,¡¯ Tilry suggested. I was relieved to hear it wasn¡¯t too bad, but at the same time I was worried about the ¡°few days¡±. How many days exactly? In two days, we¡¯d arrive in Orkland, and Krissy being a spiritualist, she¡¯d have to rely on Mana if we got into fights. Which we inevitably would. ¡®What would happen if she used more Mana?¡¯ I asked. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡®It would build up in her. She¡¯d be in pain, and eventually either her soul or her body would start cracking, and then falling apart,¡¯ Tilry answered. ¡®My first host was human, and she had to train herself not to draw more Mana than she would use.¡¯ ¡®This is bad. How is she supposed to fight without Mana?¡¯ I shared my concern. ¡®Oh, if only she had a Tentacle Horror for a familiar that could kill anyone who looks at her funny in a fifteen-meter radius,¡¯ Hank shared his opinion, sounding like an actor on a stage. ¡®Eighteen metres, if I stretch a bit,¡¯ I corrected him, grinning on the inside. Hank was right. As much as Krissy hated feeling like she had to be protected, she could literally walk up to a group of fifty orks and my Mana Armour skill would protect her for the few minutes it would take to kill every single one of the enemy. Plus, I had my experimental soul-shields as well, an extra layer of protection for her soul and myself. We should be good for a few days. Tilry shuddered visibly, but she had no argument to offer. *** Krissy woke up early in the morning, just as her ranger roommates did. She yelped as she fell out of her hammock and groaned as she got up from the floor, which was loud enough to wake Kitala Iwani, and to cause the mostly sober rangers to smile knowingly. The two women managed to groggily find their ways to a communal wash-basin to wipe their faces clean. Krissy¡¯s reason for her fumbling and frequent curses was the discomfort caused by leftover Mana, while Kiwa was simply having a hangover. By all accounts the elf hadn¡¯t had more than two or three small cups of Milkysip ¡ª an amount that would have been a simple warm-up round for a human, apparently ¡ª but she looked like as if she had spent the whole of last night doing a pub-crawl. Up on the quarterdeck where the rangers¡¯ breakfasts were served ¡ª as opposed to the crew, who had a designated dining area or cabin somewhere underdeck ¡ª the two founding members of the Bureau just kept poking at their food instead of eating it. As far as I was concerned, the double toasted bread looked alright, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, it was served with jerky and pickled vegetables. ¡®Come on, don¡¯t skip on breakfast!¡¯ I encouraged the two of them. ¡®I ¡­ think I¡¯m about to throw up,¡¯ Kitala Iwani mumbled, trying to keep her mouth closed while speaking, taking short, shallow breaths through her nose. ¡®I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m not feeling too good,¡¯ Krissy joined in, looking and sounding as sick as her self-appointed bodyguard. ¡®Well, yeah, about that,¡¯ I said, trying to find a good way to start the explanation. ¡®Just tell her straight, bro!¡¯ Hank encouraged me with all the glee he could muster. ¡®Tell me what straight?¡¯ Krissy sighed, putting her plate down next to the box she was sitting on, then proceeding to massage her legs. ¡®So, it¡¯s about the slight discomfort you might be feeling in your body,¡¯ I began, slowly and carefully. Alarming her was the last thing I wanted to do. ¡®Slight? Discomfort?¡¯ she scoffed. ¡®I feel like my bones are trying to escape my body.¡¯ ¡®Are you in pain?¡¯ I inquired. ¡®No, not pain, but it¡¯s not a slight discomfort, it¡¯s a considerable discomfort,¡¯ she growled. ¡®Okay,¡¯ I said, taking a deep, mental breath. ¡®The reason for it is Mana.¡¯ ¡®Mana? How so?¡¯ And I explained to her what I¡¯d discovered last night. She was not amused. *** Krissy put her empty plate down, her face displaying a mix of emotions, none of them good. For a moment I thought having a full belly would alleviate some of her anger, but I was wrong. So, you¡¯re telling me that I won¡¯t be able to use your power because it could potentially kill me? Krissy¡¯s thoughts thundered through the voice chat, her tone cold as ice and hot as hellfire all at once. ¡®Uhm ¡­ yes,¡¯ I said. ¡®For a few days at least.¡¯ And you didn¡¯t know this until now, even though you¡¯re my familiar? Aren¡¯t you supposed to know all about your power? She demanded, shaking her head in furious disbelief. ¡®I ¡­ didn¡¯t,¡¯ I admitted. Hank? She turned her attention to the idiot-horror. ¡®I ¡­ uh ¡­ have noticed,¡¯ he confessed. Oh, so much for ¡°having my best interests at heart¡± then. Didn¡¯t you think for a second it might have been in my best interest to know this so I wouldn¡¯t kill myself? ¡®Tilry knew about it,¡¯ Hank made a transparent attempt to deflect responsibility. The familiar snapped her head towards us, looking like she was about to retort, but Krissy wasn¡¯t done. I don¡¯t care. She isn¡¯t my familiar and this has nothing to do with her. She screamed at us. ¡®Damn right,¡¯ Kiwa muttered while struggling to swallow some food. And I told them as soon as I noticed. The spirit chimed in. Krissy sighed loudly. I can¡¯t believe you don¡¯t have enough sense of responsibility between the two of you to warn me about something like this. She carried on with the tongue-lashing which we fully deserved, unfortunately. Some fucking familiars you are! To think I volunteered to go first on that damn galley for your sakes like a fool. ¡®Listen, I ¡­¡¯ I tried to say something, anything, to quell her anger. It was futile. No! You listen! Both of you. I don¡¯t care about your constant, stupid quarrelling over food or about your tentacles. You can be the most idiotic brothers in the world if that¡¯s what you two want to be, but if either of you ever keep something like this ¡­ no, scrap that! If you ever keep anything at all from me again, that will be the day we part ways. Have I made myself clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, ma¡¯am!¡¯ Hank and I yelled as one. Had I still been in possession of a human body, I would have snapped to attention like a private in front of a general, and I sensed a distinct wave of a similar sentiment emanating from Hank. ¡®Good,¡¯ Krissy snarled the word out loud, then switched back to voice-chat. Now, I don¡¯t want to hear a single word from either of you until we reach the Mainlands. Instead, think about whether you want to take being my familiars seriously or not. ¡®Yes, ma¡¯am,¡¯ we chorused again. Krissy stood up, gave her empty plate to Kiwa, and walked to the port-side guardrails, put her elbows on it and proceeded to watch the morning sun rise while mumbling to herself about how lamentable it was to have such poor-quality familiars. Both Hank and I knew she had meant every word, and we knew if either of us had said anything now, it would mean the end of our careers as her familiars. So, we kept quiet. *** It was only after night had arrived and Krissy had finally fallen asleep in her hammock, that Hank and I went onto the KHIM channel to talk. ¡®Brother, we¡¯re in serious trouble, aren¡¯t we?¡¯ Hank asked, his usual snark and condescension absent from his voice. ¡®We have upset her. Badly,¡¯ I said, and I couldn¡¯t find the energy or willpower to put my usual animosity towards him on display either. ¡®Wasn¡¯t she overreacting?¡¯ ¡®Maybe she¡¯d have taken it better if it hadn¡¯t been right after a battle. She¡¯s in a shaky mental state as it is.¡¯ ¡®What if she tells us to get lost?¡¯ ¡®Then we¡¯d have to get lost.¡¯ ¡®Would we, really?¡¯ Hank asked, his tone serious. ¡®She wouldn¡¯t be able to actually get rid of us. We¡¯d have to do it voluntarily.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s correct,¡¯ I agreed. ¡®And if she asked us to go, we would. Wouldn¡¯t we?¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t want to leave her. I like her, and not just because I inherited the sentiment from your soul when I ate some of it.¡¯ ¡®Really?¡¯ I asked, rather surprised by the statement. ¡®If it was in her best interest that we leave her, would you?¡¯ ¡®Yeah,¡¯ he said, but I didn¡¯t like the few moments of hesitation before he said it. ¡®If you say so,¡¯ I said, wondering if I should believe him. ¡®But I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll go that far.¡¯ ¡®Oh, ok. Now, about the use of our tentacles ¡­¡¯ He changed gear completely, surprising the hell out of me for the second time. ¡®Yeah? Why don¡¯t we talk about you embezzling EXP instead?¡¯ I countered. And then we both fell silent, doing the equivalent of staring at each other for long moments. After those moments passed, I sighed mentally and said, ¡®Alright, how about we revisit all this when we¡¯re done in Orkland and we¡¯re on our way to this famous Fentys Alliance?¡¯ ¡®And when she is calmer and in a better mood. Good idea,¡¯ Hank added. Chapter Ninety-eight Chapter Ninety-eight Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was fuming. She slammed her empty plate down, remaining crumbs of her breakfast scattering, and she trudged over to the railing at the edge of the deck. She took a deep breath, planning to unleash her exasperation in the form of a scream ¡ª or at least a growl or a grunt ¡ª but she didn¡¯t want to draw the attention of the sailors performing their duties or rangers still having their breakfasts. So, she breathed out slowly, then repeated the process a few more times until she felt calm enough to think things through. Even so, thinking things through proved to be difficult without fully understanding a spirit¡¯s power, or Mana, as Kevin liked to call it ¡ª a word even Tilry had adopted. And how could she understand it when her own familiar, who provided it to her, didn¡¯t understand it either, apparently. She shook her head, sighing again, looking up at the morning sky, hoping some answers would fall down from the dull, dark clouds that were gathering. Her eyes lingered on the clouds. Maybe it would rain soon? Maybe a storm was coming? It sure looked liked the sailors were expecting rough waters, tying crates and equipment down. She turned around and watched them for a while, letting the ongoings distract her from the problem she was failing to find a solution for. She almost managed to force her mind to get back to working on the problem of Mana, when Kiwa clambered to her feet and walked over to her. ¡®Time for exercise, boss,¡¯ she said, her voice weak, her expression suitably dour for someone with a hangover. ¡®Are you sure you¡¯re up for it?¡¯ Krissintha inquired, not at all convinced the elf was in any shape to do anything even resembling exercise. ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m sure,¡¯ she groaned, then tapped the sword at her hip. ¡®We¡¯ll do some drills, but ¡­ first we¡¯ll focus on ¡­ meditation, I think.¡¯ ¡®As you wish.¡¯ Krissintha nodded, secretly hoping Kiwa¡¯s grueling sword drills would be forgotten for today ¡ª those were designed for elves by elves, and she was sure she wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up for long without using Mana. Then again, if she could believe Kiwa and Toven, being able to hold her own against elven rangers without her familiar¡¯s power, even for a minute or two, meant she could consider herself to be among the better, if not the best human swordsmen. Maybe it was true, but it sure didn¡¯t feel like it to her. ¡®Alright, let¡¯s get started,¡¯ Kiwa said, then burped discreetly, hiding her mouth with her hand, her face reddening. ¡®Lead the way, boss!¡¯ Krissintha smiled. ¡®I¡¯m not the boss, boss.¡¯ *** Meditation exercises didn¡¯t attract nearly as much attention as the sword, dagger or the occasional spear drills Kiwa had been gently forcing her to do throughout the voyage. As such, no-one even glanced their way as they sat cross-legged on top of two tied-down barrels. Krissintha shut her eyes and let the visionless space envelope her. Instead of the sounds, smells and sensations of the ship, the crew and the sea, she focused only on the sound of her own breathing. Slowly but surely, she fell deeper into a calm darkness ¡ª her favourite part of this kind of exercise ¡ª where she knew she wasn¡¯t asleep, but she wasn¡¯t sure if she was completely awake either. It was from this place she could start looking deeper not only into herself, but into the bridge or tether that existed between her and her familiar. Putting it into words was difficult; the most accurate comparison she had ever come up with was childhood memories of laying in her bed, the room dark, her mother sitting on a chair, and even though she couldn¡¯t see or hear her, she knew and felt she was there in the room with her. Kevin¡¯s presence was something like that. A presence. Going deeper from there, Kevin¡¯s so-called Mana-pool was something more tangible ¡ª if that was the right word ¡ª a small, dim glow in the darkness. Whether it was real or just her mind¡¯s interpretation of it, she didn¡¯t know, and it didn¡¯t matter. It was there, and from there she could draw the mysterious, powerful substance his familiar called Mana. It was slightly bigger than it had been before; Kevin¡¯s growth was real, and it had effects even she could see and use. Normally, she would use the exercise to practice her control over Mana; willing it to move, willing it to gather in her body, or on her blade, or to do anything she could think of and envision. The more comfortable she got doing it during meditation, the easier, faster and more precise she could do it outside of it. This time she was wary of drawing any of the spirit¡¯s power. Although the discomfort she felt had subsided a little since she had began the exercise, it was still there, reminding her that Kevin hadn¡¯t been joking about the adverse effects of using too much Mana. Would she have overused it had she been warned? Drawing and using Mana during a fight wasn¡¯t as calm and controlled a process as it was while meditating. She could easily imagine taking more of it than necessary in the heat of battle, even knowing the downsides of doing so. Considering this, maybe she had been too harsh on Kevin and his weird brother. Or maybe not. She still would have wanted to know in advance. Krissintha tried to remember if she had ever heard her father¡¯s retainers talking or complaining about similar problems, but she couldn¡¯t. She had never been interested in their affairs, and she had to admit that even if they had mentioned it in her presence, she wouldn¡¯t have had paid attention to it. Oh, what a spoiled child she had been; a fact she had come to regret. Her focus lingered on the dim light that represented Kevin¡¯s Mana Pool; she felt the contents of it calling to her. ¡°Use me! Use me!¡± Sometimes it felt like Mana had a small will of its own, or at least some sort of need to be used. She wasn¡¯t sure why that was, but she was sure Kevin wasn¡¯t sure either, so that was fine for the moment. Drawing Mana from Kevin wasn¡¯t an option this time, so she turned her attention to herself. If all that residual Mana was in her body and soul, then she might as well look for it and see if there was anything that could be done about it. She knew she had to venture deeper into the dark but comfortable world the exercise created; sometimes, after reaching a certain depth, she¡¯d get momentary glimpses into her own soul. Now, she wanted to have a proper look. She had been told that human spiritualists used meditation to improve their skills in using their familiars¡¯ power, but their techniques were not refined enough to allow them access to their own souls. That wasn¡¯t the case with the techniques the elves had developed and been using to this day in Fayr-Sitan. While Kitala Iwani wasn¡¯t a particularly talented or patient teacher, she was able to teach her more than just the basics of it. So, Krissintha delved deeper. At first, as the world around her darkened even more, she began to get the glimpses she was already used to. Unlike the dim light of the Mana Pool, one she could almost see, what she called glimpses were a strong, well defined but momentary sense of her soul. It was like being her own twin. It both did and didn¡¯t make sense; Kevin had tried to explain to her what little he knew about souls in his often undecipherable way, but based on it, she was almost certain that a soul was an invisible copy of the person, complete with a mind of its own, identical to that of the body. Hm. Existing as two beings, one tangible, one invisible, but identical in all other regards. A weird idea for sure, but the glimpses told her it was true. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Krissintha focused on her breathing, the movements of her chest, imagining an invisible copy of her moving in unison with her body. She kept that image in her mind, shutting everything else out. The world became pitch black. No, not pitch black. ¡°Pitch black¡± was something. It became nothing. This was new. Then a question popped into her mind, unbidden and unexpected: ¡°where do I want to be?¡± She didn¡¯t understand the question, even though it was her asking it. Why was she asking it? And what did she mean by ¡°where¡±? But then she realised the emphasis wasn¡¯t just on the ¡°where¡± but on the ¡°I¡± as well. ¡°Where do I want to be?¡± Ah! Of course. This must have been what Kevin liked to call consciousness, and what Kevin claimed could move between places. In his case, between some sort of body he had in Hell ¡ª or the Spirit World or whatever he liked to call it ¡ª and his other body that was hovering around her with all his tentacles coiling and flailing ¡ª which was, luckily, invisible most of the times. In her case, it seemed, she had arrived at a place in her meditation where she could take her consciousness from its usual place in the body, and have it occupy her soul instead. Again, a weird, unnatural idea, but all her instincts, all that she had learned and all that she was experiencing right now, told her was precisely the case. Well, she thought, if there was some problematic Mana building up in her soul, then it stood to reason that having a look through her soul would be of some use. So, she answered the question she had posed to herself. The nothing surrounding her became something, and at the same time, she lost all feelings, including the sensation of breathing. It was worrying at first, but she didn¡¯t feel like she was in danger of suffocating, and she calmed herself, and began to observe her surroundings. The problem was that she had no surroundings. It wasn¡¯t nothing, of this she was sure, but she failed to understand what kind of space she was in, if it was any kind of space at all. She couldn¡¯t tell if she was grounded, sitting or standing on something, or if she was floating, or if she even had weight. Was she really in her own soul now? She tried to look around, but that didn¡¯t work the way she would have expected it to work. An unsettling mixture of seeing and feeling that was both and neither was all she had, but it turned out to be enough, and she became aware of her own soul. She looked down at herself ¡ª which she knew wasn¡¯t really what she was doing ¡ª but for all intents and purposes, it was looking. She saw herself; just as Kevin had claimed on numerous occasions, she saw a teal-coloured mass in the vague shape of her body, sitting cross-legged on nothing. Her soul. This was her soul, and seeing it for the first time ¡ª well, sort of seeing it ¡ª was an experience she knew she¡¯d never forget. She looked up again, and saw a blue, spherical object in an undetermined distance, from which numerous, long tentacles sprung forth in every direction. Kevin. That was Kevin, hovering there, his appendages undulating gently, but not doing much else. One of those tentacles reached from the orb to her, penetrating her soul, then separating into small, thread-like things, spreading inside like branches of a tree. She knew what it was; Kevin had made no secret of how he was able to talk to her or provide Mana. It was incredible. Was this how spirits saw the world? She wasn¡¯t sure. Her soul¡¯s vision wasn¡¯t exactly clear; everything was vague, almost as if she was looking at painted images moving. She turned her head, or rather, her soul¡¯s head, and saw a bronze-coloured figure sitting cross-legged next to her, and a blue figure ¡ª albeit a lighter shade of blue than Kevin ¡ª sporting four, long arms. Kitala Iwani and Tilry, she was sure of it. Beyond the familiars, many splodges of bronze were moving up and down, their shapes lost to the distance. Those must have been all the elven sailors and crew on the ship. Her mind, or her consciousness, was throwing words at her: disturbing, beautiful, scary, wonderful, dangerous, profound. Being here was all those things, but soon the words became empty and redundant; they weren¡¯t really attempting to describe what she was seeing, it was her mind trying to simplify the experience. She wanted to just linger in this space, to exist here for a while, to absorb this new plane of her life, to explore it, to try to see it clearer. But she hadn¡¯t forgotten the reason she wanted to be here in the first place. She turned her attention back to herself, and observed her own, spiritual body. It didn¡¯t take much time or effort to notice the sparkling, icy-blue substance swirling around in her soul. She instantly recognised it as Mana. The way it moved was as if water was pretending to be smoke, flowing and billowing at a snail¡¯s pace, following a path that she was sure corresponded to the bones in her material body. Well, so that¡¯s where the sensation of her bones trying to jump out of her body was coming from. Krissintha almost laughed at the discovery. And she knew there was nothing she could do about it. Unlike the Mana in Kevin¡¯s pools, unused and begging to be used, this Mana, stuck in her soul, was half-spent already; not inert yet, but not responding to will either. Instead, it would ever so slowly, drop by drop, find its own way out of her soul. She just had to wait and then be careful not to draw more than she would use. As much as she wanted to stay in her soul, she was getting a feeling that it was time to leave and go back to her body. She wasn¡¯t sure where that feeling was coming from or why, but she thought it would be wise to listen to it. She did her best to shut off the senses her soul had in place of sight or hearing or smell, and asked herself: ¡°where do I want to be?¡± *** Krissintha opened her eyes; the sudden brightness of the day stung her eyes, and the sounds and smells of the world crushed down on her with a force she had never experienced before when ending a meditation exercise. The shouting and yelling of sailors and marines felt like an assault, and the cool wind on her skin felt like ice. She nearly fell off the barrel she was on, but Kitala Iwani moved fast to catch her even with a hangover. ¡®What was that about, boss?¡¯ she croaked while helping her stand properly. ¡®You were taking forever.¡¯ ¡®Uh ¡­ I was ¡­ in my soul,¡¯ Krissintha croaked back, shivering as pins and needles began to creep up her legs. She looked up and realised the sun was much higher in the sky now, indicating it was almost midday already. That was strange; she could have sworn she¡¯d spent less than an hour in meditation, and now it turned out it was almost half of the day? No wonder her legs were all numb and shaky. Another thing she noticed as she turned her head to look around, was the three other Solace Navy ships right next to the Furious Fist, side by side and secured with ropes and planks so crew could walk over from one ship to another. ¡®Oh? You went there? Not recommended,¡¯ Kiwa said, shaking her head. ¡®Those who ever did say it¡¯s a weird place.¡¯ ¡®Well, it was interesting. I saw the Mana causing the problem. And I saw Kevin and Tilry.¡¯ You have to be careful, Lady Krissintha. Tilry¡¯s thought-voice came, sounding worried. Elves handle these sort of meditation-trips better than humans, and they don¡¯t do it often. My first host was human, and she never even attempted it. ¡®True.¡¯ Kiwa nodded. Krissintha felt something from Kevin; he was about to say something, probably out of legitimate concern. ¡®I¡¯m not talking to you,¡¯ she said to him, shutting him down anyway. ¡®Just keep thinking about what you have or haven¡¯t done.¡¯ Kevin remained quiet. ¡®Krissintha, Master Fenar and the captain want to see you,¡¯ a familiar voice called her from behind. She turned her head to find Tovaron Ento standing behind the barrels they¡¯d been sitting on, smiling like an idiot. ¡®That is, if you¡¯re done with whatever spirit-fuckery you were getting involved in.¡¯ ¡®Just a trip to my soul.¡¯ she smiled back at him. ¡®What do they want?¡¯ ¡®We¡¯ll reach the ork clan¡¯s shores sometime tonight, and they want to set up that communication thing your familiar does.¡¯ ¡®Alright.¡¯ Krissintha sighed. ¡®Spirit-fuckery on the way.¡¯ Chapter Ninety-nine Chapter Ninety-nine Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain suppressed the giggle bubbling up and trying to get out. She smiled as the confused elves who had gathered on the forecastle platform heard Kevin¡¯s voice, looking around as if they could somehow find the source of it. Hi everyone, I¡¯m Kevin and I¡¯ll be your host for the duration of the upcoming operation. The spirit announced. The only people who remained calm and unaffected ¡ª apart from Krissintha and Kiwa ¡ª were Master Fenirig Arte and his daughter. Until Hank introduced himself. Hi, I¡¯m Hank, and I¡¯ll be your co-host. The weird brother burst into the voice-chat rather theatrically. Shut up, Hank! This is my show! Kevin screeched at him. ¡®Oh fuck, there¡¯s two of them now,¡¯ Fenar grumbled, shaking his head. ¡®Two familiars? Is that normal?¡¯ The captain of the Furious Fist inquired. ¡®Normal? Nothing¡¯s normal with this one. It¡¯s just a meaningless word,¡¯ Fenar said with a sigh, seemingly accepting the fact and ready to move on. The captains of the Righteous Wrath, the Brave Soul and the Dauntless Will, as well as their officers and marine officers, were at a loss for words, coming to grips with the new and mysterious communication ability of spirits. The ranger officers were less shocked, but even they seemed like they didn¡¯t know how to react to the voices in their heads. Well, setting all that aside, let me explain how this works, gentlemen! Kevin said, then began to explain how he had assigned a number of different comm-nodes for different purposes. He had put the captains on one node, the marine officers on another, the ranger officers on a third. A fourth node was dedicated to what Kevin called ¡°cross-branch¡± communication, on which only the captains and the highest-ranking ranger and marine leaders were present. It meant that the lower ranks had only their own voice-chat to deal with and wouldn¡¯t get tangled up in the chatter between the top ranks. Then, the spirits proceeded to explain to everyone how to ¡°talk¡±, and then to the captains and masters of rangers how to switch between their dedicated comm-nodes and the ¡°cross-branch¡± node. The latter was new to Krissintha, too, so she listened intently to the explanations, admitting grudgingly that Kevin and Hank knew what they were doing when it came to their communication abilities. She wished they had been this well-informed and confident when it came to Mana and its effects. But after her meditation exercise, she had calmed down and even considered apologizing to them for her earlier outburst. After all, Kevin hadn¡¯t been born a spirit, so it was somewhat understandable he didn¡¯t know everything about being a spirit. She wasn¡¯t sure about Hank; he had been born a spirit, but not like most familiars. Was it worth delving more into this just to prove everything was her familiars¡¯ fault? Even if she wanted to, she couldn¡¯t wrap her head around most of it, so it was best to leave it at that. ¡°It was what it was, just go with the flow¡± as Kevin would say. Right or wrong, she decided to do just that. An hour later, Kevin and Hank finished their lecture, and the gathered thirty or so officers all had a chance to practice talking to each other using their thoughts. Then, with the plan clear and preparations made, everyone was dismissed. It was time to get some rest before arriving and commencing the killing of orks and the rescuing of the taken. *** No daylight was coming through the hatches when Toven woke Krissintha from her nap down in the crew quarters. Kitala Iwani was already checking her weapons and bags at the dim light of oil-lanterns, getting ready for the big event. Snippets of conversation echoed in her mind faintly; the thought-voices were in a discussion about positioning the ships, appropriate distances, and getting rangers to the shore. The captains of the four Solace Navy ships, no doubt. It seemed Kevin had done his best to separate the comm-nodes from each other, but as he had explained in the past, the whole setup was susceptible to leakage for some reason. As her connection to her familiar was stronger and more direct, she¡¯d inevitably hear some of it. Luckily, it was far from loud ¡ª unlike the occasional grunts of desperation from Raagstrom Raagh, who was still in his little corner of Hell ¡ª and she could easily ignore it. Krissintha clambered to her feet, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and began to get her own gear in order; sword and dagger on her belt in the style of Solace rangers, then food rations, water, medical supplies and other small knick-knacks in her bag. She was sure Kevin had enough supplies for a small army in Jack¡¯s Room, but it didn¡¯t matter; if she had learned anything while training with rangers back in Gal Themar, was that getting her gear properly ready was the best way to avoid being yelled at by officers such as Master Fenar. Their bags of course vanished as soon as they were done packing, joining his familiar¡¯s no-doubt impressive hoard in his spiritual storage space, but she could present it on request, so all was well. Kiwa tapped her on her shoulder, the grin on her face no doubt a sign she was ready to face a hundred orks by herself. ¡®Yeah, I¡¯m ready,¡¯ Krissintha said to the elf, then followed her up the ladder to the quarterdeck. The sight of over eighty rangers, even in the darkness of night and without a single torch or lantern lit, was a sight to behold; the best fighters Solace had to offer, lining up by teams, ready and waiting for their turns to get into the rowboats sailors were already lowering onto the water. Krissintha couldn¡¯t see the shore, but it couldn¡¯t have been far ¡ª a mile, half a mile, maybe more, maybe less. It didn¡¯t matter; the land was near, and the barbarians inhabiting it would be waking up to a blood-soaked morning. Or a rain-drenched one. Just as Kiwa spotted Tovaron Ento¡¯s team and started pulling Krissintha along to join them, the clouds released everything they had been holding back. She pulled her green, ranger-issued cloak together, pulling the hood over her head, the rain pattering loudly against the thick fabric. ¡®This could be good,¡¯ Tovaron Ento mused, looking up at the dark sky, just as they arrived to join his team. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡®Will be harder for anyone to spot us,¡¯ one of the rangers agreed, then turned his head towards Krissintha. ¡®Might slow us down, though.¡¯ She had seen the man around ¡ª would have been strange to see a new face on a ship ¡ª but she couldn¡¯t recall his name. Regardless, he had a point. ¡®Nah, she¡¯s a spiritualist. She can keep up,¡¯ Toven dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand and a smile on his face, turning to her. ¡®Isn¡¯t that right?¡¯ Krissintha gulped silently. She had not told anyone about her Mana-predicament ¡ª maybe intentionally, maybe not ¡ª but in hindsight it wasn¡¯t something she should have kept to herself. Sure, Kiwa knew, but her self-proclaimed bodyguard didn¡¯t seem to have an issue with it, and she wouldn¡¯t have said anything to anyone about it unless on ¡°boss¡¯ orders¡±. ¡®Right.¡¯ Krissintha nodded, hoping the combined efforts of the darkness, the rain, and her hood would hide the reddening of her face. It was too late to come clean about her temporary ban on using Kevin¡¯s power. It would just complicate things for the team if she told them now, so the only thing she could do was to do better than her best and keep up at all cost. Toven paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to believe her or not, then shrugged and turned back to his men. ¡®Once we land, we have half-an-hour to find enough of the local plants to change our stealth-garbs, so work fast. Then it¡¯s marching time. Close patrol formation at all times due to the rain, try not to trip over your own legs or get stuck in the mud, and if I hear another word about how much colder it is here up north than it is at home, I¡¯ll feed you to the first greenskinned barbarian we come across. Any questions?¡¯ ¡®Where are their bags?¡¯ one of the team asked, nodding his head towards Krissintha and Kiwa, clearly disapproving of their lack of visible gear. Or maybe disapproving of the fact that Tovaron Ento hadn¡¯t made an issue out of it. ¡®Safely tucked away in Hell I assume,¡¯ Toven said. Krissintha nodded. ¡®In Hell? What does that mean?¡¯ the ranger asked, looking surprised by the answer. ¡®Spirit fuckery,¡¯ Toven stated. ¡®Anyone else?¡¯ The same ranger decided he had more things he wasn¡¯t happy about. ¡®How come Sarakan Zil¡¯s got that connection to her familiar? She¡¯s been assigned to this team. Shouldn¡¯t you be the one coordinating?¡¯ ¡®Listen, kid, it¡¯s none of my business who Master Fenar designates for different roles or why, and it¡¯s most certainly none of yours. Is that clear?¡¯ ¡®Yes, sir!¡¯ the ranger, who was apparently young enough to be called a ¡°kid¡±, replied instantly. A kid, huh? Even after almost a year in Solace, Krissintha still couldn¡¯t accurately guess the age of elves. On the other hand, the kind of questions Kid was asking were an indication; Toven had once told her that younger rangers were often caught up in the fantasy of a perceived competition between teams ¡ª a leftover sentiment from their times as trainees. The memories of Training Team Twenty-Seven of Third Rangers brought a smile to her face, and she quickly came to the realisation that she¡¯d much rather be with them than here, about to assault bloodthirsty orks in their hundreds. Life had really been taking one weird and dangerous turn after another, and Krissintha had every reason to believe it had plenty more in store. Because why wouldn¡¯t it? Damn! Then, it was time. Someone yelled something into the darkness ¡ª probably Master Fenar ¡ª and the team leaders relayed the order to their men: ¡°get into those damned dinghies, and let¡¯s find some greenskinned barbarians to kill!¡± *** Krissintha didn¡¯t even try to spot the dozens of other rowboats making their way to land; not only it was too dark for her human eyes to see anything that wasn¡¯t right in front of her ¡ª like Kitala Iwani, chewing on some jerky as if all was well with the world ¡ª the rain, wind and the sea itself decided it was good fun to soak, freeze and confuse her all at the same time. Well, at least the sailors in the boat hadn¡¯t asked her to grab an oar and help ¡ª unlike they had a few of the rangers ¡ª so she pulled her cloak tighter and hoped the waves wouldn¡¯t get too big, and the twenty or so occupants of the boat wouldn¡¯t have to swim ashore. She¡¯d done that once before, and she wasn¡¯t keen to do it again. Luckily, the elves were relentless rowers, so much so that Krissintha found herself wondering why ork galleys used humans for that purpose ¡ª as dark and unpleasant as the thought was. During a brief moment of moonlight breaking through the clouds, she could see the dark silhouette of land against the dimly sparkling sea. She¡¯d be on the ground soon, and then right in the middle of an entire barbarian clan. Without Mana. Not exactly what a sane person would do, even with a familiar who could eat half a town. But hold on! Was that really the case? It¡¯s been more than a day since the unwanted revelation, so ¡­ Kevin, how is the leftover Mana looking in my body? Or soul? Or both? She inquired. Oh, so we¡¯re talking now? The reply came, and the spirit¡¯s tone was frighteningly similar to what she remembered her father sounding like after a few days of her mother¡¯s stubborn silence due to whatever affront she thought he committed against her. The thought occurred to Krissintha that maybe she really was on the wrong side of things in this thing with Kevin, whatever this thing was. Yeah. I admit I reacted harshly, and I apologise for that. It¡¯s just that I was scared. I mean, I could have died because of Mana, right? Kevin didn¡¯t reply, at least not immediately. After a few moments of silence, she began to think her familiar was trying to give her a taste of her own medicine by ignoring her ¡ª maybe a little bit rightfully so ¡ª but in the end the spirit spoke. Well, okay, water under the bridge, and let it be a lesson learned. A lesson? Uh ¡­ yeah. A lesson. What lesson? A lesson to trust your familiar. I¡¯m doing the best I can, and I learn as we go. Had I known this stuff about unused Mana accumulating, I would have told you. Now I know, and I¡¯ll be keeping an eye on it. Have you got eyes? Krissintha sent the thought, chuckling on the inside. Kevin having eyes ¡ª the image was suddenly in her mind, and it was disturbing. He was seeing with his spirit-tentacles, wasn¡¯t he? The eyes then would be on them, right? No, he hasn¡¯t got eyes. Hank chimed in. Oh. Hank. Krissintha acknowledged the weird brother. Yeah, I¡¯m Hank. He declared proudly. So, about the Mana? She steered the conversation back to topic. Hm. It¡¯s going slowly, I¡¯d say half of the stuff have evaporated already. Kevin shared his observation. Will I be able to draw and use some once we land? Kevin fell silent for a short time once again, then addressed Kiwa¡¯s familiar. Tilry! What do you think? Uh ¡­ m¡­ me? Well. She stuttered ¡ª something Krissintha didn¡¯t know spirits were able to do, since they talked with their thoughts through the voice-chat. I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m not too sure, but it looks like she could get away with drawing and using a little. Maybe just enough to get her muscles to be a little faster, but not like she did on the ork ship. That was too much. Krissintha thought about it for a moment. So, I could use some to keep up with the rangers while marching towards the enemy? She asked. Sounds like it. Kevin said. I think so. Tilry agreed. But if you use more for fighting before allowing the old Mana to disappear, you might make things worse and hurt yourself, Lady Krissintha. That wasn¡¯t entirely bad news: she could keep up with Toven¡¯s team, so at the very least she wouldn¡¯t have to listen to them complaining about her slowing them down. And once in the fight, Kevin would probably just eat the enemy like he usually did. Spirits were weird, and she was getting used to it. ¡®Look alive, people! We¡¯re here,¡¯ Tovaron Ento announced, not quite whispering, but keeping his voice low. Krissintha lifted her head to look ahead, just as the boat lurched as it ran aground on the dark and sandy beach of Orkland. Chapter One-hundred Chapter One-hundred The sound of wood sliding on sand was lost to the whistling of the wind and the murmur of the sea as our boat came to a halt on the beach. The rangers jumped out into the ankle-deep water on both sides, and rushed up the beach where the waves couldn¡¯t reach them, all the while scanning the darkness for the other landing teams as well as threats. Krissy and Kiwa didn¡¯t need to be told what to do ¡ª they followed Toven and his team without looking back to see the sailors pushing the boat out to see to return to the ships. The dozens of teams assembling were dark, silent shadows, and while I didn¡¯t know much about proper military operations, I found the whole thing quite impressive. ¡®Operation Normandy is officially underway,¡¯ I announced, maybe a little more cheerfully than the situation warranted. I don¡¯t know what that means. Start making sense or stop talking! Krissy grumbled into the voice-chat, panting already as she ran behind Kiwa, following the team, aiming for the tree-line about fifty metres up. ¡®Stop talking? This is proper D-day stuff!¡¯ Hank yelled excitedly. ¡®The only thing missing is Nazi machine-gun nests.¡¯ ¡®Hah! Hank gets it!¡¯ I hollered. ¡®Although, I don¡¯t think you¡¯d want Nazi machine-gun nests. That would be bad.¡¯ Nazi nests? Some kind of birds? Are they dangerous? Krissy asked, sounding worried all of a sudden, looking around while running. ¡®Yeah, well, you don¡¯t want those birds around, that¡¯s for sure,¡¯ Hank said. ¡®They¡¯re not birds,¡¯ I groaned without getting into an explanation. ¡®Plus, we¡¯ll have our own green Nazis to deal with soon.¡¯ ¡®True that,¡¯ Hank agreed. ¡®You two are weird,¡¯ Kiwa grunted, earning an over-the-shoulder glance from Tovaron Ento. ¡®Problem?¡¯ he asked without slowing his gait. ¡®Just some spirit fuckery,¡¯ she replied. We weren¡¯t the first team to reach the treeline, which turned out to be the beginning of a dense forest that seemed to suck the rangers in like a sponge would a splash of water. Even though the faint moonlight seeping through the clouds was failing to penetrate the canopy ¡ª the upside being that the rain shared the same fate as the meagre light ¡ª the elves seemed to have no problem seeing in the near pitch-black environment. The same wasn¡¯t true for my host, and Kiwa offered her her shoulder to hold onto as they moved past the first tree. I thought it prudent to start warning her of protruding roots, rocks, mounds, or anything else she could potentially trip over. We got at least twenty metres into the forest when Tovaron Ento signalled his five-men team ¡ª plus us ¡ª to stop, and everyone knew what to do without him having to give orders or say a word. The rangers got to it with practiced efficiency; their cloaks vanished into their bags, replaced by what looked like an overcoat made of some sort of natural mesh-net, and half an hour and a ton of leaves and branches later, everyone was wearing the same kind of ghillie suit I¡¯d seen them wear before, but adapted to the local environment. Kiwa was quite good building her own suit, and she even had some time to spare to help Krissy become the perfect living bush she was always meant to be, and on time. Once we were ready, Toven performed a few hand gestures, and we were on our way to save all the pointy eared Private Ryans. *** All the meditation exersises Kiwa had forced on Krissy were paying off ¡ª she had no choice but to use some Mana to keep up with Toven and his team, but she was doing it carefully and with quite the mental finesse. I was keeping a close eye on it as they ran towards our objective, often along the edge where the forest met the beach, sometimes in the forest proper, depending on what our team-leader deemed to be the best and safest option. Krissy was managing beautifully to keep a thin stream of Mana flowing into her body, not more than half an MP per minute, and she didn¡¯t let any of it go to waste and add to the problematic but decreasing amount of half-used, inert Mana already in her body and soul. I supposed experience was the name of the game when it came to these spiritual shenanigans, not only for me, but for her as well. At times I could have sworn I saw other teams running along ¡ª a shadow moving among the trees, a bush rustling the wrong way, branches snapping under what I assumed were footsteps ¡ª but even with my tentacles stretched out, and darkness not being a huge issue, I couldn¡¯t be sure where the rangers were, apart from our team. On the cross-branch comm channel, the captains of our flotilla announced they were at a distance of two, two-and-a-half miles from shore, and that they¡¯d arrive at the Harbour in less than an hour, ready to make their assault from sea. Master Fenar ¡ª wherever he was ¡ª assured them the rangers would be there in time, setting up the perimeter around the orkish port and prevent anyone escaping to take news of the assault, or to prevent reinforcements to reach the place. Even so, that wasn¡¯t a lot of time, and Toven doubled the speed at which we were running to a level that was bordering inhuman, and finally I caught glimpses of some two-legged bushes around us picking up the pace as well. Krissy neither complained nor lost any focus in drawing Mana with care, and she kept pace with the pack. I was kind of awed by how Krissy ¡ª her feet either sinking into wet sand with every step, or slipping on muddy undergrowth ¡ª was advancing with almost as much grace, and definitely as much speed as an elf. I even caught Toven peeking out from his guillie-suit to check on her, then nodding in approval. It wasn¡¯t long ¡ª maybe half an hour ¡ª before we saw lights in the distance. Toven ordered us all to slow down and stick to the edge of the forest as we went, and to be extra super-duper careful not to be spotted by any barbarians who might be wandering or loitering around. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Harbour in sight, roughly a mile ahead. Teams assigned to perimeter watch are proceeding to take positions, teams assigned to rescue will head towards main settlement. I heard Master Fenar¡¯s voice on the voice-chat, sounding as crisp and snappy as you¡¯d expect from any military man in operation ¡ª an opinion based entirely on a library of war movies I had watched back on good old Earth. Righteous Wrath two miles out and closing. In engagement range in approximately fifteen minutes. Captain Rimarle Alas reported on the cross-branch chat, and there was no doubt in my mind he had in one hand a spyglass, keeping an eye on the Harbour, and his dog, Fifi, in the other. Brave Soul following. The captain of that ship reported, whose name I couldn¡¯t remember. Dauntless Will following. Another nameless captain confirmed. Sigtar Something. Maybe. Furious Fist following. Hurry up with that perimeter, Master Fenirig Arte, my marines are raring to go. Captain Fenirig Arla joined in, issuing demands to her father. I heard Master Fenar¡¯s voice on the Ranger¡¯s Channel, thought-yelling at the poor officers who had the misfortune to be included on the comm-node, then he replied to the Furious Fist. Will be done in ten minutes. I heard someone groan into the voice-chat. Now, we hadn¡¯t been invited to every strategy meeting, so all I knew was that if the plan had not changed since, we were going to miss the torching of the Harbour on account of Toven¡¯s team being a part of the contingent heading up to the orkish city of Vraathblood. More moving bushes arrived to join us, at least four teams¡¯ worth of camouflaged elves, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, one of them was none other than Fenirig Arte. Well, knowing how proficient a fighter he was, I found no reason to object ¡ª better the elf you know than the ork you don¡¯t. Sticking to the treeline we approached the Harbour, stopping only a few hundred metres away from the first of the structures constituting the port, or town, or settlement. Or whatever it was. And ¡°whatever¡± was the right word to describe the place. We were looking at an eclectic mix of wooden shacks on the beach, then somewhat larger but ramshackle buildings further up where the orks had cleared the forest of trees, many of them consisting of thick wooden posts holding up thatched roofs, under which crates and what looked like sacks were piled up. The orkish equivalents of warehouses, I surmised. And of course there were the piers. Three of the wooden structures stretched into the shallow sea, allowing galleys to be moored to something and to load and unload their cargo. Three of the nightmarish ork ships were there, resting along two of the piers. The place was lit by torches that somehow managed to withstand the rain ¡ª although the downpour had devolved into a steady drizzle since we¡¯d landed. It was still hard to tell from this distance who or what the figures moving up and down on the piers were ¡ª orks or their slaves ¡ª but it didn¡¯t matter, we were going to bypass the place and leave it to the Navy and the marines. I was a little tempted to get Krissy to go closer. Despite the whole place looking like a giant toddler had slapped it together when he got bored of playing with Lego bricks, it had a nostalgic feel to it. Hastings perhaps? Or some other, smaller seaside town down south? But this wasn¡¯t the time to start feeling homesick, and of course it would have been stupid and reckless to ask Krissy to deviate from the plan. After Toven and the other team leaders were satisfied with their observations, most of the teams sneaked back into the forest to go around the place ¡ª some to establish the blockade of the port, and the rest of us to go deeper inland to find the capitol city of the Vraathkill Clan. *** Perimeter set. One of the team-leaders announced through the Ranger¡¯s Channel. Our teams, led by Master Fenar, were already a hundred metres up the road ¡ª which we had found easily ¡ª so I couldn¡¯t see what the perimeter looked like, or how the teams had split up to surround the entire land-facing side of the Harbour. All I knew was that if I couldn¡¯t see them, then the enemy couldn¡¯t either. Perimeter set, rangers ready to assist with the assault. Fenirig Arte conveyed the message through the cross-branch chat with the thought-tone of a general who had absolute confidence in his soldiers, even without being there with them himself Acknowledged. Furious Fist in position, half a mile out from piers, so far unnoticed. Fenirig Arla, captain of the Furious Fist, reported back. Marine landing teams underway, archers ready for first volley. The other captains made similar reports, and there was quite a lot of chatter going through the comm-node dedicated to the marines, making progress reports and coordinating their landing with the archers on the ships. It seemed the show would begin in a matter of minutes. Fenar didn¡¯t let us slow down on account of the imminent assault on the Harbour, so we kept advancing, following the muddy dirt-road leading to the city that held most of the kidnapped elves. It wasn¡¯t even a minute into our stealthy march when the marines reported the start of their engagement. Volley away. A thought-voice shrieked into the chat. Hit, hit, hit. Oh, they¡¯re falling off the pier like ragdolls. Landing now. Another, much calmer voice echoed through the node a few seconds later. Surprise, surprise, surprise! An excited marine officer yelled. Die you green bastard! I was quite sure the man was actually yelling out loud into the face of an ork, and simply forgot to control his thoughts. Happens. Second landing party underway. Someone else announced on the Marine Channel. Shiiit! Dozens of them in that house! Another marine cried out, his thoughts rather panicky. Team twelve and seventeen, assist the marines! A ranger calmly issued an order on their channel. Even without an answer, I knew those teams were right on it, and I could just picture it as a number of bushes suddenly stood up and started slaughtering the orks in question in front of the gobsmacked marines. A bunch of them are making a run for it on the north-east. Team five and ten intercepting. Another ranger informed the collective. I had to give it to the elves: they knew how to plan and conduct a military operation. The rangers¡¯ perimeter seemed to be working, the marines were well on the way to clear and destroy the Harbour and rob the orks of their naval capabilities, and we were on our way to conduct a rescue mission. I was of a mind to start patting myself on the shoulder ¡ª unfortunately all I had was a tentacle-riddled ball for a body ¡ª because my spiritual communication network was evidently a huge contributor to their success. ''Oh man, we¡¯re missing all those souls!'' Hank wailed, his voice coming to me through our own KHIM channel. I couldn¡¯t disagree, to be honest; judging by all the thought-voices flying back and forth between my comm-nodes, the Harbour was quickly becoming the all-you-can-eat buffet I knew it would. Or, from another perspective, a ghost-town littered with all sorts of dead bodies. Shame we weren¡¯t there. Don¡¯t even think about it! Krissy growled at me. I supposed after all our time together, she knew exactly what was going through my non-existent head. ''Yes, boss!'' I replied, trying to sound cheerful and not at all regretful. And so, secretly mourning all the wasted souls, I spread my tentacles out, focused on our surroundings as well as the road ahead, and hoped the city of Vraathblood would be an easy dinner. Or breakfast. Chapter One hundred and One Chapter One hundred and one From what I could see in the rain-drenched darkness, at least ten teams were heading up the road, maybe more, forty or so rangers led by none other than Fenirig Arte. Honestly, I felt better having the elven terminator leading the rescue party than anyone else, and I kind of hated that feeling. The road ¡ª and it was charitable to call it that ¡ª was a wide, wet, muddy path cutting through the vast, forested area. I was convinced it had been created by decades of traffic rather than any conscious road-building effort on the part of the locals, and it didn¡¯t seem like they put any stock in the concept of ¡°maintenance of public infrastructure¡± either. The so-called road zig-zagged among the trees like an antilope fleeing from a lion or something, the trees on the edges generously providing all manners of obstacles from fallen branches to occasional larger roots sticking out ¡ª a fun little trek for anyone, and I had to wonder how on earth the orks transported goods from the Harbour to their city. Then again, when you had hundreds upon hundreds of slaves to carry your bags for you, you didn¡¯t really need to worry about minor nuisances like road conditions. That¡¯s how on Earth we had the pyramids, the Coliseum, that¡¯s how the Ottoman empire could even attempt to conquer Europe in medieval times, and that¡¯s why it crossed my mind that maybe the bloody orks ¡ª given their established practice of slave-keeping ¡ª should have been able to build and maintain proper roads. If the Romans could do it ¡ª often using bored legionnaires as opposed to actual slaves ¡ª so should the green weirdos. The constant drizzling of rain didn¡¯t help, but the rangers ¡ª Krissy and Kiwa included ¡ª trudged along the edges of the path with grim determination, not letting the poorer than poor conditions slow them down. I kept all my tentacles focused on our surroundings while listening to the chatter on the different comm-nodes. The marines ¡ª with a little help from the rangers on perimeter watch ¡ª had taken the Harbour, unfortunately not without casualties. They had lost nine men, a few more had been injured, but all in all, the operation was a success, and the naval engineers could begin their work to destroy the galleys, the piers, the warehouses and shipbuilding workshops in the area, without the enemy able to object in any way. I almost didn¡¯t notice, but in less than half an hour we reached the point where the Navy ships on sea were about five miles from our position. I could sense my threads stretching and refusing to grow in length, despite having plenty of Essence and Mana in store. There wasn¡¯t much I could do about that, so I informed everyone on every channel that the rangers led by Fenirig Arte were about to go dark for the rest of the mission. The marines and rangers assured us they¡¯d hold the docks and wait for our glorious return, then suddenly they were without voice-chat, and we were on our own. *** Well, glorious return aside, we still had a few miles, maybe three, of the muddy, wannabe road ahead of us before our glorious entry to the famed city of the Vraathkill Clan. Shortly after disconnecting us from the rest of the expeditionary force, Toven stopped and squat down at a nearby tree, followed by his team and the rest of the contingent, becoming hardly noticeable additions to the wild and wet undergrowth of the forest. I could just about see the Master of Third Rangers some fifteen troops and twenty metres ahead of us, his head popping out of his ghillie-suit, looking ahead intently. Buildings up ahead. There¡¯s some movement. He announced to the rest of us through our voice-chat. Go around? One of the team leaders asked. We shouldn¡¯t leave enemies behind our backs. Toven suggested. Even with little to no tactical expertise, I agreed with him. Enemies at our backs were a bad thing. The only problem was that no matter how much I stretched my tenties in that direction, I couldn¡¯t see a thing except soggy darkness up ahead. Damn, elven eyesight was something to be envied. Surround and ambush. Six teams left, six teams right. I expect quick and quiet work. Fenirig Arte gave the orders, and he was already up, heading into the forest on the left with his team to commence the ¡°surround¡± part of his plan. Toven and his team ¡ª and therefore my host ¡ª went right. Even I had trouble seeing anything under the thick canopy, but with Kiwa¡¯s help, we managed to keep up with the rangers. It took some ten minutes until the teams circled the place. The road cut through a fairly large area cleared of trees, perhaps fifty or so metres in diameter, littered with wooden buildings of various sizes and shapes, on both sides of the road. It reminded me of abandoned frontier towns in old western movies, tumbleweeds thrown around by the hot, dry wind the only things missing. Master Fenar was right. From the edge of the clearing, it was now easy to see dark figures cautiously moving among the seemingly derelict structures. I didn¡¯t have a good feeling about this. I was by no means an expert, but whoever those figures were, they weren¡¯t acting like they belonged in this place. The only word coming to my mind as I watched them move between the houses, was sneaking. They were sneaking, constantly looking around as if they were afraid to get caught. Not only that, but they were all carrying something like bags or buckets. Thieves, maybe? I imagined ork society wouldn¡¯t be very forgiving of thieves. Maybe they were thieves, maybe they weren¡¯t, and frankly, I wasn¡¯t even sure if they were orks to begin with. Some of them were quite stocky, sure, but none of them were nearly as large as the green barbarians I knew and loved. Four of them on our side. Master Fenar reported from their side of the clearing. Five on ours. Toven gave his own report. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Nine enemy combatants then? Shouldn¡¯t really be a problem for twelve ranger teams. The question was whether the buildings had more people in them or not, and why neither Orkuz Graal nor Raagstrom Raagh had mentioned there¡¯d be a quaint little resting spot on the way to the city. Who or what in the hell are these? I heard one of the team-leaders pose a question. Kids. Fenirig Arte grumbled through the voice-chat, observing the scene from the opposite side of the clearing. Fucking barbarian kids. Kids? Really? I had to have another look at the five shadowy figures on our side, and that wasn¡¯t exactly easy, as they have just vanished behind one of the houses about twenty metres from us. ¡®Krissy! Please move down towards the road a bit. A few metres. Or paces. Please,¡¯ I asked my host. Why? She asked. Why? Toven asked, too. ¡®I want to have a look. I have a bad feeling about this.¡¯ ¡®What is it, bro? You think kids will taste worse than the grown-ups?¡¯ Hank suddenly joined in. ¡®Mushrooms are mushrooms, young or old, right?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not that. I don¡¯t want to kill kids,¡¯ I replied without thinking, even though I wasn¡¯t sure if that was what I¡¯d wanted to say, or what I really thought. ¡®You sure about that? I mean, saying that after hundreds of orks and slaves, you know ¡­¡¯ ¡®Well, excuse me for being a creature of contradiction,¡¯ I snapped at him. Contradiction or not, an enemy is an enemy. Toven stated. Do I move or not? Krissy demanded, looking annoyed. Let the spirit have a look. Check what¡¯s inside the houses, too. Master Fenar chimed in with his usual, grumpy and disapproving tone. ¡®Yes, please. Just a little. They¡¯re behind one of the houses nearer the road,¡¯ I said to Krissy immediately. Kiwa led Krissy slowly and carefully, and we managed to move at least five meters along the treeline, arriving almost at the edge of the road. I estimated we were close enough now, and I pushed my spherical body as far from Krissy as my connecting tentacle allowed it. I stretched another tentie out, pushing it through a house that turned out to be empty ¡ª save for some simple and degraded shelvings along the walls ¡ª then through the larger building behind which the alleged kids were hiding. And there they were, the tip of my tentacle stopping only a few inches from the face of one of them. ¡®Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡¯ I groaned. What is it? The question came from multiple people, including but not limited to Krissy, Kiwa, Toven, Fenar, and other team-leaders. So, basically everyone on our voice-chat. What was it? Well, ork kids of course. Four of them, plus one human, presumably a household slave or something, but that wasn¡¯t the issue. The issue was that while three of the small greenskins seemed to be engaged in some artistic endeavor ¡ª holding buckets of paint and brushing generous amounts of it on the wall of the building ¡ª the fourth one, right in front of my tentacle, had his weird looking trousers down, his equipment out, and was pissing on his section of the wall. I was a spirit now, and as such I was above most mortal concerns, therefore there was no reason for me to feel jealous of an ork teenager¡¯s divinely blessed anatomy. And I wasn¡¯t. I had tentacles, and that was an automatic win. ¡®Ork teenagers doing graffiti,¡¯ I answered. They what? The confused question came from everyone. ¡®They are kids, probably quite young, and they¡¯re painting stuff on the wall. It looks like ¡­ texts or symbols. They¡¯re quite good, actually.¡¯ I had seen the kind of chicken-scratch that passed as writing for orks ¡ª those logbooks or whatnot from the Graal¡¯s Enormous Pride were quite an eye-sore ¡ª but these stocky, human-sized ork kids were doing a fantastic job in making the texts somewhat pleasant to look at. It really was graffiti; I could tell the letters or characters were exaggerated, they added different outlines and decorations ¡ª although in the darkness it was difficult to distinguish the colours from each other ¡ª and whatever they were writing had a nice flow to it. Proper little graffiti artists. No wonder they were sneaking around in the middle of the night ¡ª I imagined they¡¯d get into some kind of trouble if caught, maybe with their parents, maybe with local ork authorities, maybe even with the spiritualists themselves. I murmured thanks to every god, real or imagined, that the kid in front of me finished relieving himself and pulled his trousers up. The human slave ¡ª a man who I guessed was in his early thirties ¡ª handed him a bucket and a brush, and he began to work on his section of the wall. ¡®Bro, what are you waiting for? They¡¯re vandalising someone¡¯s property. That makes them dinner, legally speaking,¡¯ Hank proposed, not unexpectedly. I knew he was going to say that. But the thing was: I didn¡¯t want to eat them. Sure, they were kind of ugly, kind of frightening, and had a weird, mossy shade of green to boot. But as I was looking at these kids, grunting at each other while painting graffiti, giggling in a hoarse way, talking to their accompanying human in a tone that might have even been friendly by ork standards, I felt the exact opposite of wanting to eat the mushroom-y little twats. I was also sure one of them was a girl. I hadn¡¯t seen a female ork before, but one of these kids ¡ª upon a closer glance ¡ª had slightly different proportions; somewhat wider hips, the face a little narrower, and under her leather tunic-like top, the beginnings of two mounds. Well, I guess orks were mammals after all, just like humans or elves. What¡¯s the hold up, spirit? Fenirig Arte demanded over the voice-chat. The enemy is there. Do your evil-spirit thing and do it quickly and quietly. We¡¯ll deal with the one on our end simultaneously, then we can move on. ¡®Wait, wait, wait, not so fast!¡¯ I screeched, trying to come up with some excuse to avoid killing the kids. As Hank had pointed it out minutes earlier, it was rather contradictory coming from me. Or hypocritical. Or something. I¡¯d had almost no qualms slaughtering hundreds of unarmed and restrained rowers, so in theory there shouldn¡¯t have been anything holding me back from turning a bunch of young orks into spirit-food. But in the end of the day, I¡¯m the one who had to deal with my own conscience, my own feelings, my own sense of right and wrong in any given situation. In this particular situation, I decided I did not want to kill these kids. Why would I? Were they really enemies? Did I need their souls that badly? Not so fast? Listen you shitspirit, get it done or stand back and we¡¯ll do it! Master Fenar¡¯s thoughts thundered through the comm-node. Kevin? What the hell are you up to? Krissy asked, sounding worried. ¡®Just give me five minutes. I¡¯ll sort this out,¡¯ I stated as confidently as I could. Unfortunately, having decided what not to do, didn¡¯t come with any insights into what to actually do. So, I needed help. ¡®Come on, bro, let¡¯s eat the little green men!¡¯ Hank pleaded. Well, Hank obviously wasn¡¯t the help I needed. And I had a sudden epiphany. ¡®Hey! Raagstrom!¡¯ I called out to the poor galley captain dealing with his own, personal Hell. Arrhggg ¡­ hrrrrr ¡­ lemme outa here! He squeaked, and I could tell he was nearing the end of his rope. ¡®Right, listen¡­ uh ¡­ Reggie! I¡¯ll let you out. If you help me with something,¡¯ I informed him. For a moment he was quiet, then, as if life had been breathed back into him, he screamed as loudly as he could. Imma help ya gank! Anythin! Just fuggen lemme outa here! Chapter One hundred and two Chapter One hundred and two Getting Raagstrom Raagh involved was a heat-of-the-moment decision, and I had about two whole seconds to weigh the pros and cons of taking him out of Jack¡¯s Room. On one hand, it was quite possibly a good way to deal with the kids without killing them; the big ork, traumatised by his time in hell, would probably do his best to shepherd the young ones as far away from us as he could, and wouldn¡¯t think of coming back for trouble. At least for a while. Problem solved. On the other hand, if this went sideways, then I¡¯d have a furious elven terminator screaming at me ¡ª or maybe even attempting to murder me ¡ª for ruining a perfectly good operation to get his people back from captivity. Not to mention the consequences for the above-mentioned people in captivity. Well, the two seconds were up, Raagstrom Raagh ¡ª or Reggie for short ¡ª was screaming something about letting him out, the ork kids were lathering liberal amounts of paint on the wall without suspecting a thing, Krissy was asking questions I had no answers for, and I felt something coming from Fenirig Arte ¡ª something like an angry, mental glance at me with an undertone of ¡°what¡¯s it gonna be, cunt?¡± I tried to take a deep breath ¡ª which of course didn¡¯t work ¡ª and I stretched a tentacle to reach behind the artistic little goblins, and that¡¯s where I dumped the ork captain¡¯s body. The teenager squad ¡ª including the sole human slave ¡ª froze as the body thumped and splashed on the muddy ground behind them, the fluid motions of their paintbrushes coming to an abrupt halt, their weird, yellow eyes widening with what I assumed to be fright or fear. That gave me the couple of seconds I needed to knead the large ork¡¯s soul back into his body, which I did pretty well and pretty fast this time. By the time the first of the green brats mustered the courage to move and start turning around to find out what that noise had been, Captain Reggie sucked some air in, then cried into the wet darkness of this dreadful night. ¡®I¡¯m out ya ganks, I¡¯m out! Fuggen hell I¡¯m out!¡¯ And he was shedding happy tears. Huh! So orks could cry. That was good to know. Probably. The kids all turned around and jumped back in one motion, pressing themselves against the still wet graffiti they had applied to the wall, and they stared with their mouths open as Raagstrom Reggie clambered to his feet like a dragon after a hundred-year nap. ¡®Well, you¡¯re out of Hell, so do me a favour and take these kids somewhere far away from here. Very, very far, actually. And don¡¯t come back!¡¯ I instructed the ork. A deal was a deal, and he kept his end. ¡®Oi, ya wee ganks, yer comin¡¯ with me, or imma be breakin¡¯ yer legs,¡¯ the large ork grunted at them even before fully standing. Why I had thought things would go smoothly and my way, I had no idea. The kids looked at each other, then erupted into a barrage of grunts and shrieks aimed at the still wobbly Raagstrom Raagh, and to add the appropriate emphasis, one of them threw his bucket at him. The paint was yellow, that much I could tell, sort of a mustard-y colour. The bucket bounced off him, but the goo clung to him like glue, dripping down from his wide chest to the rest of his torso and legs, mixing with all the mud on him. I was ¡­ a little bit amused. Reggie wasn¡¯t. The captain of the ill-fated galley growled like a wolf as he pounced, smashing his fist into the face of the poor sod that had threw the bucket. The kid crashed through the wooden wall into the building, rolling on the ground until he hit the opposite wall. The other three youths screamed, and even the human was flailing his arms, trying to stop the madness. Luckily, the ork youngster turned out to be quite sturdy ¡ª no surprise there ¡ª and he jumped to his feet, a bloody nose the only sign of the recent violence against him. For a moment it made me wonder what ork parenting looked like ¡ª and if I¡¯d had the time to ponder the question I would have ¡ª but this noisy fiasco had to be resolved one way or another, before my favourite elven death-machine would decide to intervene and slaughter everyone. So, about five seconds after reviving Reggie, I stuck tentacles into the souls of each and every ork kid present, and of course into the human, connecting them to the comm-node I had used for the marine network previously. I seriously hoped a sudden voice in their heads would grab their attention, and that I could win a wordless shouting match. How wrong I was. The thought-voices of four kids, one captain and a human slave overwhelmed me instantly. ¡®¡­ ya think ya some bigshot seafugger ¡­¡¯ one of the kids screeched. ¡®¡­ back to yer fuggen boat ya gankshit ¡­¡¯ the one who had thrown the bucket roared. ¡®¡­ and shove it up yer ass ya stoopid fuggin¡¯ ¡­¡¯ the third of them tried to outyell the others. ¡®¡­ shitmunchin¡¯ slavergank fuggface gank ¡­¡¯ the sole girl of the group echoed the prevailing sentiments loudly and angrily. Ah, kids these days; no respect for their elders. This was quite familiar, and I thought maybe orkish society wasn¡¯t so weird after all. ¡®¡­ ya fuggen kids ain¡¯t got no idea what¡¯s comin¡¯. Get the fugg outta ¡®ere or yer be goin¡¯ to Hell and Hell ain¡¯t nice,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh presented his case, thundering at the agitated youths like a storm. ¡®¡­ now, now, children, maybe it¡¯s time to call it a night and retire home ¡­¡¯ the human slave half-spoke-half-grunted his opinion, while making sure he wasn¡¯t in arm¡¯s reach of anyone. His speech was very orkish-influenced, but his thought-voice was articulate. One way or another, this had to stop. ¡®Ooooi, you oversized teenage mutant ninja turtles! Shut your traps and listen up, Master Splinter¡¯s talking now!¡¯ I shouted into the ork-chat putting as much force into my thought-voice as possible. ¡®Hehe, Master Splinter. I¡¯m going to call you that from now on, bro,¡¯ Hank put his tuppence in. Aside from my self-proclaimed brother¡¯s remarks, the effect was what I had envision. Silence fell on the group like a plane from the sky; they all straightened as if snapping to attention, looking around, trying to identify where the voice had come from. ¡®Oh shit, it¡¯s the spirit gank,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh groaned. ¡®I ain¡¯t goin¡¯ back to Hell!¡¯ ¡®S¡­ sp¡­ spirit gank?¡¯ the girl stuttered, staring at Reggie in disbelief. ¡®Ya ganged up with ¡®em shitpile-shamans? Ain¡¯t got no shame, ya gank? Goin¡¯ round stealin¡¯ people for slaves ain¡¯t enough for ya? Ya had to go gangin¡¯ up with ¡®em fuggen mystics?¡¯ ¡®Oi, business is business ya gank! And I ain¡¯t got nothin¡¯ to do with ¡®em spirit-fuggers,¡¯ the captain bellowed angrily at the girl, and that resulted in another round of loud and colourful exchange of insults between the youths and the captain, all of them completely forgetting the ¡°spirit gank¡± in their midst. I shook my head mentally, and I focused on the human slave, the only one quiet now, just observing the ongoings with visible trepidation. ¡®Hey, you, human,¡¯ I called out to him. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡®Oh. A spirit indeed,¡¯ the man said quietly, a puzzled expression settling on his face. ¡®Yeah, spirit indeed. So, care to explain what the hell is going on here?¡¯ I told him. ¡®Oh, just what you¡¯d expect from young ones. They don¡¯t have much in terms of opportunities to voice their opinions.¡¯ That was interesting, and it made me think that sneaking out at night to do graffiti might have been more to these kids than just a little bit of fun. ¡®What¡¯s with the graffiti?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Graffiti?¡¯ ¡®The paintings on the wall.¡¯ ¡®Oh, that. An expression of their dissatisfaction with the ruling class and their practices,¡¯ the man nodded, awfully calm now, considering he was speaking with a spirit. Based on my previous experiences, he should have been a lot more freaked out. ¡®What practices?¡¯ ¡®Well, let¡¯s see ¡­ the use of spirit familiars to claim positions of unchallenged power, the suppression of thought and opinion, the ongoing militarisation of the clan, slavekeeping and its recent expansion into all areas of society, and the list goes on.¡¯ I was once again surprised how eloquent and precise the man¡¯s thoughts were coming across despite his audible speech suggesting the opposite. I was sure he had a story to tell, but I had to put that aside, because what he¡¯d said was painting a very different picture of the situation than I had believed just moments ago. These kids were expressing political opinions, for the lack of a better word, and as I looked at them again, arguing with Reggie, they seemed genuinely concerned and angry about how things were going in their clan. They might have been the most progressively thinking orks I¡¯d seen to date. And heavily suppressed it seemed. If there had ever been a people who needed Twitter in their lives, it was them. I wondered if Elon had bought it since my unceremonious departure from Earth. Regardless, I had to think fast and hard to figure out how to resolve or even use this situation to my ¡ª our ¡ª advantage. My train of thought was disrupted by a second flying teenager. It seemed Reggie had lost his patience again, or one of the boys had said something he didn¡¯t like, and in traditional ork manner, he had put a fist to his face. The kid bounced off the wall without going through it ¡ª unlike Yellow Paint Boy a minute earlier ¡ª and he looked fine as he sprung up from the muddy ground, yelling assorted obscenities at the captain. And with a sudden surge of inspiration, I figured out how to stop the ongoings and get them to run and disappear. *** ¡®Uh ¡­ Master Fenirig Arte? Are you there?¡¯ I asked cautiously while keeping a few tentacles around the arguing orks. Where the fuck else would I be? The reply came. ¡®Okay, noted. So, I need you to ¡­¡¯ Oh, please tell me you¡¯re not about to give me an order! He growled into the voice chat with a vicious anticipation in his thought-voice. ¡®Oh, no, I wouldn¡¯t dream of it. I¡¯m ¡­ asking for a favour? Yes. A favour. If you¡¯d be so kind.¡¯ Let¡¯s hear it, and let¡¯s hear it quick. You¡¯re holding us up and I¡¯m of a mind to kill all the green fuckers and move on. ¡®Yeah, so, please don¡¯t do that!¡¯ The fuck do you want then? Could you ¡­ uh ¡­ capture the four kids on your end and bring them over to our location? Alive? You have a plan? ¡®I have a plan.¡¯ Fine. At least I¡¯ll have someone to blame when this all goes to shit. He murmured, then gave some orders to his team-leaders. I couldn¡¯t see or hear them, but I was sure a whole bunch of rangers were already moving at the other end of this clearing-slash-settlement, sneaking up on the poor kids. I pulled myself back towards Krissy and Kiwa a little bit, and I fished out their trusty masks from Jack¡¯s Room. Oh, come on! Masks again? Krissy complained as soon as the crying theatre mask stuck to her face. ¡®Sorry, policy is policy,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®Listen, come over to the third building on your right. Everyone¡¯s here, Master Fenar¡¯s heading this way as well. Bring Toven and his team. The more the merrier.¡¯ You have a plan? She inquired. ¡®I have a plan,¡¯ ¡®He has a plan. What is it? Who knows? Will it work? Who knows?¡¯ Hank decided to cut in once again. ¡®Whose side are you on?¡¯ I demanded angrily. ¡®That ¡­ depends on what your plan is. I¡¯m not a mind-reader, you know.¡¯ ¡®Yeah. You¡¯re a bloody mind-eater,¡¯ I scoffed, then I turned my attention back to the still arguing orks. I was a hundred percent sure that without outside intervention, they¡¯d spend the whole night throwing insults and fists at each other, because apparently a good argument ¡ª with the hope it would devolve into a full-on brawl ¡ª was more important to them than Hell and spirits or anything else. They¡¯d feel right at home in some parliamentary debates in certain third-world countries, and honestly, even in some developed countries as well. That aside, the plan based mostly on gut feelings, was coming together. Krissy arrived with Kiwa and Toven¡¯s team in tow, about the same time Fenirig Arte and his rangers dragged another four ork teenagers along to join up with us. Raagstrom Raagh and Teenager Squad Number One suddenly fell silent, noticing the newcomers way too late to be able to flee or do anything about it, realistically, and I used this precious time of silence to address the crowd and bring my plan to fruition. ¡®Now, listen up, kids! You will follow Raagstrom Raagh and flee! Got it? You¡¯re outnumbered and these guys are ready to kill you all,¡¯ I told them as unambiguously as I could. ¡®Just don¡¯t go to the Harbour. It¡¯s basically gone, and there¡¯s more of us there and they¡¯ll kill you. Oh, and don¡¯t go to the city either, because there might be some more killing there too.¡¯ The gang of teens first looked up at the sky as if my voice was coming from there, then glanced around, eying the ghillie-suit wearing rangers and their drawn blades. They finally started to look worried, if I was interpreting their facial expressions correctly. That was good: in a few seconds they would come to their senses, realise they had no choice but to flee or die, and we could all go on our merry way to ¡­ ¡®No!¡¯ one of them grunted sternly. It was Yellow Paint Boy. ¡®No? What do you mean no? You want to die or something? You will all go with the big one and that¡¯s it, end of story.¡¯ ¡®What a tyrant you are, bro! Proper dictator,¡¯ Hank mused. ¡®We might as well just eat them.¡¯ ¡®Shut it, Hank!¡¯ ¡®No!¡¯ Yellow Paint Boy reiterated, and even stepped forward in a random direction, looking around. ¡®Ya ganks are ¡®ere for the new slaves, aintcha? The one ¡®em seafuggers brought?¡¯ ¡®Well, yeah,¡¯ I said. I wasn¡¯t sure where he was going with this. He should have been running for his life already. Was he looking for a fight? ¡®And yer gonna be killin¡¯ us down in the Harbour and up in Vraathblood,¡¯ he stated rather than asked. ¡®I see no reason to disappoint the kid. Let¡¯s kill them and move onto the city. I, for one, am excited about all the people there,¡¯ Hank suggested. I saw many of the rangers ¡ª who could also hear him over the voice chat ¡ª tentatively nodding in agreement. This wasn¡¯t lost on Yellow Paint Boy and his gang, neither on Raagstrom Raagh; they all shuddered, and I was sure Fenirig Arte was losing his patience as well. ¡®Just run for it already you stupid cunt!¡¯ I yelled at the boy. Instead of doing that, he turned around to face Raagstrom Raagh. ¡®Ya see this ya fuggen gank? Stoopid shitbag Skraath Ironbite and his fuggen greed for slaves and iron is killin us all is what he¡¯s doin¡¯. Mah old man told ¡®em long ago this shit¡¯s gon happen if we keep goin¡¯ over to steal people, and what Skraath Ironbite went doin¡¯? What Zootagh Gutspiller went doing? They went killin¡¯ ¡®im and feedin¡¯ im to their shitspirits or somethin,¡¯ ¡®Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake, man, just get the hell out of here or you¡¯ll die like the rest!¡¯ I tried my luck once again. ¡®No. We ain¡¯t runnin¡¯ no more! Time to throw shit in Ironbite¡¯s stoopid face before he goes killin¡¯ the whole clan. We¡¯re Vraathkill, and we¡¯re throwin¡¯ shit better than anyone!¡¯ Oh, the almost articulate, politically motivated little piece of shit! Would it have been too hard not to suddenly find the courage and not stand up for his beliefs? All I needed him was to run away, and now he was spewing nonsense about going toe-to-toe with some orks named Ironbite and Gutspiller ¡ª who I assumed were the famed shamans of Sivera. Shit, shit and more shit, I needed to turn this around at the speed of light. Unfortunately, Raagstrom Raagh looked impressed by Yellow Paint Boy¡¯s bravado. ¡®Oi, yer a Vraathkill awright,¡¯ he grunted at the boy. ¡®But ya think you can go takin¡¯ ¡®em shamans? Think again!¡¯ ¡®We¡¯re ready ya giant fuggface gank!¡¯ the boy grunted back at the captain, the other kids all nodding. Then he slowly spun around in a full circle to look at every single ranger, Krissy and Kiwa included. ¡®Ya skinnies ain¡¯t here for peace, that¡¯s fuggen sure. Mah old man said this be happenin¡¯ someday. It¡¯s happenin¡¯ now.¡¯ He stepped away from Raagstrom Raagh, then picked none other than Krissy to approach. I supposed it made sense for him to pick one of the two people here who didn¡¯t look like antropomorphic bushes. ¡®Oi, funnyface! Ya want yer people back. We want ¡®em fuggers takin¡¯ ¡®em gone. Ya seein'' a deal here?¡¯ Just my ¡°fuggen¡± luck to run into members of some local resistance movement. Which meant it was time to start formulating a plan B, and I had a feeling that this time Master Fenirig Arte would have a few things to say. Fucking ork kids! Chapter One hundred and three Chapter One hundred and three Master Fenirig Arte listened to my explanation ¡ª he was on a different comm-node so he had only heard snippets of the orks¡¯ discussions, if that. His reaction wasn¡¯t at all what I had expected: instead of magically grabbing my invisible and immaterial body and breaking me in half, he simply hummed thoughtfully before saying, ¡®Put me through to the green cretins!¡¯ I almost cried out with relief that I had narrowly avoided a fate worse than death at the hands of the elven war-machine, but I managed to hold back and get to work, making a new piece of thread to patch him through to the orks. At the same time, I also contemplated why I was so scared of the man when I didn¡¯t actually believe he could do anything to me. My best guess was that his insane but completely justified confidence was to blame, as well as my own emotional landscape shaped by my hopefully fading pushover-ness. Yep, I had come a long way, but there was still work to be done. The orks, including Raagstrom Raagh, were more or less quiet now, nervously eying all the bushy rangers in the darkness surrounding them. Yellow Paint Boy and the sole girl in the group had their eyes glued to Krissy, probably thinking she was the leader, on account of wearing a mask and her ghillie-suit falling apart already ¡ª I supposed at this point this kind of concealment was redundant anyway. They looked rather shocked when the response they¡¯d been waiting for came from a voice in their heads that they couldn¡¯t connect to any one of the bodies. Listen up, you jolly green bastards! Master Fenar addressed them without stepping forward or making a move of any kind. Your people might know me as ¡­ oh shit, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this out loud. Well, you shitnuggets might know me as the ¡°Hellspawn¡±. I was there when your lot arrived from wherever the hell you came from, in fact, I¡¯m the one who had slain that idiot Gralnohr Whatshisname. ¡®Gral ¡­ Gralnohr Grendaar, Overboss of all Clans Gralnohr Grendaar? Yer sayin¡¯ yer the fugger who went killin¡¯ im old-timey Overboss? The fuggen Hellspawn?¡¯ The teenage ork girl spoke up first, while the rest of the boys, as well as Reggie, were just staring into nothing, seemingly having a hard time processing Fenar¡¯s claims. ¡®Oi, Ronron, Overboss and Hellspawn? Twas like a thousand years. Gank ain¡¯t the Hellspawn, that ain¡¯t real stuff,¡¯ Yellow Paint Boy protested the claim. Two hundred and seven years you dimwit, that¡¯s not that long ago. Don¡¯t you fuckers learn history? Fenar growled at the gobsmacked kids. ¡®Oi, oi, oi, Golty, Hellspawn ain¡¯t no kid-tale, old man Sargahr sayin¡¯ twas real as pain,¡¯ the girl ¡ª apparently Ronron ¡ª informed Yellow Paint Boy ¡ª apparently Golty. To everyone¡¯s surprise, the human slave stepped to Golty and put his hand on his shoulder. ¡®Master Goltrohk, if I may,¡¯ he began to say, but Golty stopped him. ¡®Golty. Toldya to go callin¡¯ me Golty!¡¯ ¡®Right. Master Golty, the Alliance has records that state the Hellspawn was an elven ¡­ pardon me, a pointy-ear gank warrior from Fayr-Sitan, and a mystic, and the Adventurer Union has information that the Sitanese ganks believe he¡¯s still alive.¡¯ I¡¯m alive, thank you very much. Fenar commented. Golty opened his big, toothy mouth to say something, but nothing came out; he was clearly trying to process the new information, and he wasn¡¯t the only one. I had heard from Fenar and his wife about the war against a giant tentacle horror ¡ª or evil god ¡ª and I remembered them saying the green guys had arrived in this world around the same time. This new detail that Fenar had killed the then-leader of the orks, kind of explained how at least his nickname had made it into orkish folklore. Quite frankly, I was becoming interested in the story, but I supposed it had to wait. Plus, I wasn¡¯t sure what the natural lifespan of an ork was, but if we were three or more generations after those events, the story may have been since embellished or changed somewhat, so relying on orks for an accurate account of events would have been a mistake. But I could understand why Golty was sceptical about accepting the talk of mythical heroes and villains. I would have been, too, in his shoes. But that wasn¡¯t the main issue: Fenar¡¯s introduction had sparked a weird conversation and had taken us off the topic. I still wanted these kids to survive, no matter how annoying they were, and we were not getting closer to work out what to do with this situation. Fenar seemed to have some ideas, the ork kids seemed to have their ideas, I had no idea, so I wanted to steer the conversation back to something more constructive. The human slave must have had the same thought; he spoke before I could say my piece. ¡®Also, Master Golty, I would advise getting back to discussing a possible deal with these ganks would be the thing to do right now. Whether the Hellspawn is real or whether he¡¯s here or not, is irrelevant.¡¯ He was of course right, except I didn¡¯t see how the presence of the Hellspawn was irrelevant in any way, shape or form. The man was a highly trained and capable killing machine who could probably slaughter everyone here even without a familiar, and I included the rangers as well in the assessment. I dreaded to think what he could do if he had access to Mana. ¡®Ya wanna go makin¡¯ a deal with ¡®em ganks?¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh asked, sounding not so much angry but befuddled, bending down a bit to bring himself to eye-level with the kid. ¡®Yah,¡¯ Golty told him to his face. ¡®Ya seafuggers ain¡¯t got no clue whats goin¡¯ down in Vraathblood.¡¯ ¡®Time we went takin¡¯ the clan back. Whatcha gon do? Run?¡¯ Ronron added. ¡®I ain¡¯t no runner,¡¯ the large ork proclaimed. ¡®Except when it comes to Hell,¡¯ Hank giggled. ¡®Hell ain¡¯t nice,¡¯ he retorted, then said to the kids, ¡®Imma help ya wee ganks, I¡¯m Vraathkill. And I¡¯m hopin¡¯ to shit it ain¡¯t just ya brats.¡¯ ¡®We got numbers ¡­¡¯ ¡®Master Golty? The deal?¡¯ the human slave interjected calmly. ¡®Yah. The deal,¡¯ the boy nodded, turning away from Raagstrom Raagh, then took another step towards Krissy. He must have still thought she was the head honcho of the skinny-pointy-eared gank contingent. Don¡¯t look at me ya gank, I ain¡¯t the Hellspawn. Krissy sent a fittingly ork-style thought. Golty and Ronron didn¡¯t have time to react. So, what is it you¡¯re offering? Master Fenar stepped forward from his formation of rangers. *** In twenty minutes the ork kids had given away so much information on the city of Vraathblood, the so-called mystics, and just the general state of affairs of the Clan, that we all began to suspect that without some assistance, it might not be possible to infiltrate the place and get the kidnapped elves back. To start with, the Clan was large; thousands of orks ¡ª neither the kids nor Reggie knew exactly how many thousands though ¡ª at least three times as many slaves, and of course visiting ¡°tradinfuggaz¡± from other clans. At least half of the Clan lived in the city, which meant a population of two, maybe three thousand greenskins, four to six thousand slaves, plus visitors. According to the original plan the rangers had come up with, it wouldn¡¯t have mattered; sneak in at night when most residents were hopefully sleeping, find the captured people, then sneak out. Kill only if someone gets in the way. No problem. In theory. But, according to our new friends, Golty and Ronron, the infamous Skraath Ironbite and his best buddy Zootagh Gutspiller had been on constant high alert for almost a year, and they had their few dozen spiritualists and few hundred regular followers dispersed in groups across the city. Apparently, orks didn¡¯t particularly like being told by the mystics how to live, most slaves ¡ª with a few exceptions ¡ª didn¡¯t particularly like being slaves, and the shaman-led, spirit-aided government was in a constant state of vigilance so they could crack down on dissent. And of course the government goons were extra watchful at night, because that¡¯s when banned activities tended to take place. And thus, the old saying ¡°no plan survives contact with the enemy¡± proved itself once again. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Master Fenirig Arte came to the conclusion that we could actually use some help, if nothing else just to create a distraction so at least some of our rangers could free their countrymen from the slave-pens unimpeded. And so, a new plan was born, a new alliance was forged, and we were on our way to Vraathblood. *** Vraathblood, the capitol city of the Vraathkill Clan, was at least three miles from the little clearing where we had run into the teenage mutant revolutionary ninja orks, which meant another twenty or so minutes of muddy road in the darkness and drizzling rain. Twenty minutes wasn¡¯t a lot of time, but Master Splinter had questions, and I had it in my mind to get some answers while still on the trek to our objective. Since the comm-node I had designated for the Navy officers was now unused, I decided to connect the human slave to it for a private conversation. Rangers and orks were pretty fast walkers, even on the uneven, slippery road, and I considered it lucky that the only ones falling slightly behind were Krissy, Kiwa, and the man ¡ª I had no trouble rummaging around in his soul, disconnect him from the joint elf-ork network and plug him in for a pseudo-telepathic chat. ¡®Hey, how are you doing?¡¯ I asked the guy. ¡®Oh no, no, no, don¡¯t stop, just keep walking, mate, and don¡¯t look around!¡¯ I warned him as he was about to stop and look around. ¡®It¡¯s me, the spirit guy.¡¯ The man faltered only for a second, then resumed his trudge, trying to keep up with the rangers in front of us. Then, he opened his mouth wanting to say something. ¡®No, mate, don¡¯t talk out loud. Use your thoughts!¡¯ Uh ¡­ like this? I heard his thought-voice coming through. ¡®Yeah, yeah, exactly, keep it up!¡¯ I cheered. Oh, so, you¡¯re the familiar of ¡­ the Hellspawn? he asked. ¡®Name¡¯s Kevin, and I¡¯m not the Hellspawn¡¯s familiar.¡¯ Oh, that elf isn¡¯t the Hellspawn? He¡¯s lying? He asked, sounding rather disappointed, maybe even a little worried. ¡®He is the Hellspawn. For real,¡¯ I informed him. ¡®I¡¯m just not his familiar. I don¡¯t even think he¡¯d need one. I¡¯m Kri ¡­ uhm, Misery¡¯s familiar.¡¯ Misery? ¡®The one with the mask.¡¯ Which one? The man asked, glancing over his shoulder at Krissy and Kiwa bringing up the rear. ¡®The slightly shorter one. The other one¡¯s a spiritualist, too.¡¯ Hm. Maybe we do have a chance then. He mused. I know familiars in rare cases talk to their spiritualists. Why are you talking to me? ¡®I have questions.¡¯ Alright, ask! ¡®You¡¯re from the Fentys Alliance?¡¯ I asked. I am. Trevor Berean at your service, Master Familiar ¡­ Kevin, was it? Trevor, huh? A nice, Earth-y sounding name. When I¡¯d first learned the names of the two sailors on Misery Island, and one of them turned out to be Tommi, I¡¯d thought that was a fluke. Now Trevor? Maybe Wensah wasn¡¯t the only one who had ever visited my home world from here. ¡®How did you end up here?¡¯ Long story short, I was on an expedition. Adventurers from the Traiga branch, as well as soldiers of the duchess.¡¯ ¡®Duchess?¡¯ Ingred the Heartless, duchess of Traiga. ¡®Not Fentys Alliance?¡¯ Traiga is one of the three states of the Alliance. ¡®I see. So, you¡¯re an adventurer?¡¯ I asked the man, but I had my doubts. He looked more like a paperpusher than a warrior, and even for that he looked rather bland. And balding. And thin. No, I¡¯m not an adventurer. He sent the thought and sighed out loud at the same time. I work ¡­ worked, I guess, for the Union. But I was a clerk and a surveyor. I never thought they would ever send me on an expedition. Unfortunately the barbarians were bothering the border forts, and some idiot ¡­ I mean, some wise and brilliant strategist somewhere, decided an expedition was in order to see what was going on. And some other wise and brilliant strategist somewhere, or maybe the same one, decided the expedition needed people who were adept at surveying the land for ¡­ I don¡¯t even know. Gold mines? Land to cultivate? Forts to build? Take your pick. Then we fought, some of us died, the rest of us were captured. The Braakbone Clan, I learned later. They sold some of us to the Vraathkill. ¡®When was this?¡¯ Seven years ago. ¡®You¡¯ve been a slave for seven years?¡¯ I asked, genuinely surprised. A skinny guy who would probably struggle to even lift a sword or a shield, surviving in a place where conventional wisdom was ¡°brawn over brain¡±? I didn¡¯t know whether I should be impressed or horrified. But then again, the way he had been interacting with Golty and the other ork kids, suggested there was more to life in the Clan than swearing and fistfighting. I recalled the accounts of Raagstrom Raagh, who had said that some slaves, craftsmen mostly, were actually valued highly and treated relatively well. Trevor seemed to have picked up on my reaction, and said, It¡¯s not as bad as you might think. Well, I mean it is for some, like those sent to the galleys, but for most of us it¡¯s bearable once you learn to speak their mockery of a language. The ones born here don¡¯t even know they¡¯re slaves. I¡¯m not saying I¡¯d stay if I had the chance to flee, of course. ¡®Of course,¡¯ I acknowledged the subtly suggestive statement. ¡®So, what do you do? I mean here?¡¯ Teach, mostly. Arithmetic, reading, writing. Basic things. I have been sneaking some philosophy in as well. You wouldn¡¯t guess how receptive the young ones are just by looking at them. Even some older ones. ¡®Nature versus nurture, huh?¡¯ Hm. That¡¯s a good way to put it. He said, nodding his head and almost stumbling on a tree-branch under the mud. Good way to put it indeed. And I was beginning to suspect that education might have played a major role in the emergence of a green and brawny anti-government movement. I wasn¡¯t surprised; if history had shown us anything, it was that the best way to bring a system down, whether an empire or a corporation, was to do it from the inside. ¡®Do you think this ¡­ ad-hoc cooperation will work?¡¯ I asked. It should. I hope. The barbarians are very straightforward creatures. Crude, sometimes cruel, but straighforward. The Hellspawn is a figure of legend to them, someone who had once beaten and killed the best and strongest of all the clans. Hated and respected in equal measure, but most importantly, outside and above any current affairs. The Clan majority despises the mystics, they will rally if they see someone they believe has a chance to beat Skraath Ironbite and his cronies. Some will join the fight, some will assist in other ways, some will stay out of the way. Many of the slaves, especially newer arrivals, will join as well. A common enemy is quite the motivation. ¡®Will they let the elves take all their people back?¡¯ I asked. As I said, they¡¯re very straightforward. If they say they will, then they will. He stated confidently, and I had no reason to doubt someone who had spent seven years among the creatures. He probably knew what he was talking about. Then he said, I¡¯d like to ask a question as well. ¡®Go on!¡¯ Your people don¡¯t look like Sitanese elves. You¡¯re not from Fayr-Sitan, are you? He asked. ¡®No. These are Solace rangers.¡¯ Oh my! Trevor gasped. Not something you see every day. So, the new slaves were from there? I can¡¯t believe Skraath Ironbite would risk messing with Solace. That¡¯s pure ignorance. ¡®Well, I can attest to the capabilities of the Solace Rangers and the Navy. A well organised bunch they are.¡¯ I giggled. ¡®I mean, it took them half an hour to take the Harbour and raze it to the ground.¡¯ Hm. A bad loss for the Clan, but ¡­ I suppose there¡¯s a price to pay for everything. I was about to reply and voice my agreement, when our column of rangers and orks stopped. I quickly spread my tentacles out, scanning for any threats, but the only thing I could see was some sort of faint, misty bubble of light up ahead, maybe half a mile away. That must have been the city, I concluded. We¡¯re almost there ya ganks, so ain¡¯t no noise, we¡¯re gon be takin¡¯ ¡®em backstreets and go meetin¡¯ up with Big Wroogh, I heard Golty¡¯s thought-voice on the joint comm-node, then grunts of agreement from the other greenskins, including Raagstrom Raagh. If I see even an ear twitch the wrong way, there¡¯ll be hell to pay, you understand? Master Fenar issued a warning to Golty and his people. ¡®We ain¡¯t stoopid, ya Hellspawn gank, deal is a deal,¡¯ the reply came. Then, it was time to make our way into the city. Good times ahead. Chapter One hundred and four Chapter One hundred and four The forest, through which the horribly muddy and unmaintained road took us through, came to an abrupt end, giving way to cultivated fields of something that looked like corn. Orks could see relatively well in the dark, to the elves it didn¡¯t matter whether it was day or night. Being a spirit and not having to rely only on light for sight was helpful, but I still almost yelled a warning to everyone when I noticed the dark, ork-sized figures watching us from the fields. The one thing that prevented me from doing so was the fact that the rangers simply marched along the edges of the road, hunching down so their heads were lower than the height of whatever the corn-like plants were, completely ignoring the dark, insidious observers. I stretched a couple of my tenties out to check, and I felt totally relieved ¡ª and somewhat stupid ¡ª as I realised the figures were scarecrows, plain and simple. It seemed orks ¡ª or rather their slaves ¡ª were serious about agriculture. We weren¡¯t far from the city¡¯s border now; weak, flickering yellow lights cast black shadows in the distance in the shapes of buildings, a few hundred metres maybe, giving me the first impression of the size of the settlement. A decent sized town, from what I could see. The rangers decided to shed their ghillie-suits, presumably because it was pointless to have them now, and to increase their mobility. The two humans of the group followed Kitala Iwani practically blind, trudging behind the group, but the man at least was familiar with the terrain so he didn¡¯t need much help and guidance. Krissy, on the other hand, had to rely on her self-proclaimed bodyguard, and had to keep her cursing quiet. She had learned a lot from the rangers, Master Fenirig Arte in particular, and her choices of swearwords reflected that a lot. The entire road from the Harbour to the city had been completely abandoned, save for the group of kids we¡¯d found, and we reached the first, ramshackle house that marked the entrance to Vraathblood, virtually unimpeded. From this point on, we¡¯d have to follow Golty, Ronron and their ragtag team of teenage hooligans so we could meet this Big Wroogh fellow ¡ª presumably a local resistance leader or whatnot ¡ª and negotiate the terms of our cooperation with some ¡°proper¡± people. Master Fenirig Arte gave the order to his rangers: spread out by teams, stay hidden, stay sharp and stay in constant communication through the ¡°fucking spirit-chit-chat-thing¡±. It wasn¡¯t an exaggeration to say that I was an integral part of this mission, whether the bastard liked it or not. Beyond that first house, the road leading into the city split into a number of smaller avenues or streets, spreading out like the branches of a tree, as muddy as horrible as the rest of the road had been. As far as I could tell, the houses along the streets were an eclectic mix of different shapes and sizes, most of them built with both stone and wood, and if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, thatched roofs were in fashion. Said roofs had no problem whatsoever supporting the large number of rangers that were climbing up to them, then jumping from rooftop to rooftop, following their boss¡¯ orders to spread out fast, silent and unnoticed, leaving the occupants of the buildings none the wiser. And the occupants were there; light was seeping through cracks in doors and shutters, I could hear grunts and growls characteristic of ork conversations, I could even identify humans speaking in their bastardised Orkish. In a matter of a minute, only Master Fenar, his team, Krissy, Kiwa, and the ork kids were left standing at the edge of town. Take us to your leader! Master Fenar said the most stereotypical alien invader line to Golty. The boy grunted something with no corresponding thoughts coming through, and beckoned us to follow him. Which we did. Golty immediately took us off the main road and onto narrower and darker pathways cutting through the densely built-up outskirts of town. I kept a few tentacles up in the air, keeping tabs on as many of the rangers as I could ¡ª they were jumping from building to building in silence, like ninjas in some shonen anime, following us, ready to intervene should the orks try to do anything untoward. A few other of my tenties went through walls, and I could confirm that being past midnight wasn¡¯t a good enough reason for orks to go to bed. In fact, in most houses I didn¡¯t even see beds. The furnishings were rudimentary, and ork families ¡ª men, women and children of all sizes, as well as household slaves, mostly humans ¡ª gathered around low tables not far from a hearth, eating, arguing, having ¡°who-can-take-more-slaps¡± contests, and in a few cases, ork parents engaging in the act of creating more ork babies. Ork women had recognisably feminine proportions and were slightly less ugly than their male counterparts, but damn, I would have to work hard to scrub my mind clean of the imagery, and I had to thank all the gods that this world didn¡¯t have internet and orkish porn websites weren¡¯t a thing. Golty led us through a veritable labyrinth of little streets and alleys, stopping and hiding only a few times when people ¡ª sometimes orks, sometimes slaves ¡ª would hurry along the deserted pathways. With those exceptions, it seemed the still drizzling rain kept most of the population indoors, and that was good for us. In about fifteen minutes of following the boy, we reached a place that looked like a small square, complete with tall, wooden posts and sheets of canvas stretched between them like a roof. Might have been a marketplace or other kind of gathering spot for the locals, I wasn¡¯t sure. Golty pointed at a two-storey house across the square, larger than most others I¡¯d seen, and tried to whisper. ¡®Oi, over there. Big Wroogh¡¯s shackin¡¯ up in there. Imma get goin¡¯ first, tell ¡®im what¡¯s what.¡¯ Well, as it turned out, whispering wasn¡¯t an ork¡¯s strong suit, but I saw no reaction from anyone in the nearby homes, so I supposed he was quiet enough. Fenar glared at the ork kid; it was obvious he wasn¡¯t associating the word ¡°trust¡± with him, and in all fairness, he had a point. We¡¯d known him for less than an hour, so who was to say Golty wasn¡¯t going to stab us in the back and alert his mates to the impending elven invasion. Lucky for everyone, I had a solution. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡®Master Fenirig Arte,¡¯ I called out to our fearless leader. ¡®The house isn¡¯t that far, I can keep an eye on our friend and kill him and anyone in there if they try anything.¡¯ Misery, front and center! He ordered Krissy to come forward. She and Kiwa moved up to join Fenar at the corner of the house we were hiding behind, which took us close enough for me to have a look inside the house of the mystery ork named Big Wroogh. I stretched myself across the square, roughly fifteen metres, and stuck a tentie through the wall of the humble abode of the biggest ork I¡¯d seen to date. The name Big Wroogh was ¡­ well deserved, if slightly misleading. The guy wasn¡¯t ¡°big¡±. He was enormous, a giant, a colossus, the Incredible Hulk on steroids. He sat on the ground, on some sort of rug or carpet, the table next to him laden with empty, wooden mugs, two human slaves cleaning up spillages of whatever he was drinking. Well, at least the big guy was dressed, because the two greenskinned women resting on his laps were buck naked, having a good time laughing almost uncontrollably at whatever he was saying. And they were totally dwarfed by this Wroogh fellow. Hell, even Raagstrom Raagh was at least two heads shorter than him. ¡®Well, the guy looks busy,¡¯ I reported my findings. You can see him? Fenar asked for confirmation. ¡®Yeah. He¡¯s got some sort of romantic thing going on with two ¡­ aw hell, I shall call them ladies.¡¯ ¡®Yah, fuggen Big Wroogh, always busy with ¡®em women.¡¯ Ronron snarled angrily. ¡®Gank went invitin¡¯ me to push out a few brats for him. Told ¡®im to go fugg himself.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m bettin¡¯ half ¡®em streetbrats are his,¡¯ Golty gurgled the words, bombarding the door of the house with looks that could kill. ¡®Mr Popular, eh? And we¡¯re asking a guy you hate to help us?¡¯ ¡®Hate?¡¯ Both Golty and Ronron flinched as if I had just slapped them. ¡®Nah, the fugger¡¯s great,¡¯ Golty stated. ¡®Yah, he¡¯s da best,¡¯ Ronron agreed. They weren¡¯t joking or being sarcastic. They meant it. Alright, weird orkish sensibilities then. I supposed we just had to accept that and move on. Fenar finally agreed to let Golty go by himself, under my strict and ¡ª if necessary ¡ª lethal supervision. The boy rushed across the place, under the canvas roof, arriving at the door. And he started banging his fist on it so hard I was sure the entire neighbourhood would be up in arms in seconds. Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened, instead, the door opened, and a slave pulled Golty inside before he could say a word. *** The events inside Big Wroogh¡¯s house took place very quickly: the big ork jumped up, the women landed on the rug, still laughing, then Golty, right when he opened his mouth to speak, got a friendly punch in the face for interrupting the guy¡¯s happy-time. The boy, his nose bleeding once again, shooed the two human slaves away when they wanted to help him up from the floor, and started explaining to his assailant what the situation was. I didn¡¯t understand a single word Big Wroogh said in response, and by the time it occurred to me to make a new thread to connect to the brute, the conversation was over. Golty waltzed back to the door, opened it, and beckoned our little group to rush over and in. And that was it. Forty seconds at most. I was somewhere between impressed and befuddled, but it was what it was: orkish temperament and straightforwardness in action. I confirmed to the rangers that it was probably okay to go in there ¡ª I couldn¡¯t see any traps or hidden orks waiting in ambush, and I was sure this Wroogh fellow couldn¡¯t possibly pose a threat to Fenar and his team. Plus, I sensed Hank salivating over the giant ork¡¯s equally giant soul, so eating him was totally on the table if he tried anything. Our group filed into the house as quickly and quietly as they could, and the room that had seemed quite large before, proved to be rather small for this many people of varying sizes and races ¡ª eight ork kids, two naked ork women, four humans including Krissy, six elves including Kiwa and Fenar, one Raagstrom Raagh, and of course our gracious host, the one and only barbarian Casanova Wroogh. Quite the gathering. I managed to hook the big guy up to our group¡¯s comm node, just as he led his reddish eyes over his visitors and singled out the former captain of the Raagh¡¯s Uncontested Might. ¡®Wot da fuggen hell ya doin¡¯ ¡®ere, ya sonofagank?¡¯ he demanded, pushing the women and some of the teenagers out of his way, stepping up to face Raagstrom Raagh. My estimate was correct: he was at least one and a half heads taller than the captain, and quite a bit bulkier. ¡®Ain¡¯t been to town for ages, ya bloated pissbucket, thought imma get a looksee and go punchin¡¯ me up some mystics.¡¯ ¡®Huh! Da fuggen Raagh went growin¡¯ a spine? Where¡¯s yer crew then?¡¯ ¡®Fishfood,¡¯ the captain replied curtly. ¡®Oi, how da fugg didya go doin¡¯ that?¡¯ Big Wroogh inquired. Raagstrom Raagh simply nodded his head towards Fenirig Arte and the rangers. The big one studied them for a couple of moments, then said, ¡®Dem skinny ganks? Ya jokin¡¯?¡¯ ¡®Nah. That one¡¯s the Hellspawn.¡¯ The captain pointed a finger at one of the elves. They probably all looked the same to him. ¡®Been to Hell myself. It ain¡¯t nice.¡¯ Big Wroogh took another look at the rangers, mulling it over in his head, probably, then said, ¡®Gank ain¡¯t lookin¡¯ like da Hellspawn, da fugger was big as da old-timey overboss. And ya wanna go killin¡¯ mystics with no crew and ¡®em skinny ganks?¡¯ ¡®Ya wanna go talkin¡¯ bout crews, ya gank? Where¡¯s yer crew? Or ya havin¡¯ brats go fightin¡¯ for ya these days? Where¡¯s yer spine?¡¯ As amusing as an orkish discussion was, it wasn¡¯t really going anywhere, and I wasn¡¯t the only one of the opinion. Kevin! Master Fenirig Arte called out to me. For a second, I didn¡¯t even realise it was him. Then, the shock came: Master Fenirig Arte called me by my name. For the first time ever. Kevin, he¡¯d said. My name. Not ¡°shitspirit¡±, not ¡°invisible bastard¡±, not anything else. Kevin. Holy shit, something serious was happening, no doubt. ¡®Yes?¡¯ I said. You¡¯re able to give me some of your power, correct? He inquired, while his team kept their eyes on the two bickering green giants as well as all the ork teenagers and slaves. The rangers were ready for action, that much was clear. ¡®Yes,¡¯ I said, still in shock at this sudden turn of events. Master Fenirig Arte, Kevin is my familiar, and I ¡­ Krissy began to protest. Which should have surprised me, considering the respect and reverence she had for the man who had taught her most of the skills she now possessed. But Krissy was also somewhat possessive when it came to me, her familiar ¡ª I remembered how angry she had been when I left her to possess some orks, or when I retreated to the Spirit World. It was kind of heartwarming to know she was willing to argue about me, even with Fenar. Misery, trust me on this. Fenar said to her, his usual snark and belligerence absent from his voice and words. First using my name, and now this? This could only be a bad sign, right? Alright. Krissy conceded. Do it! Fenar instructed me. I briefly considered being an obnoxious prick and say something like ¡°forgot to say please¡±, just to get back at him for a year¡¯s worth of verbal abuse, but I knew this wasn¡¯t the time for that. Instead, I quickly made a new piece of thread with Essence and Mana, and at the same time I looked for the appropriate node in the man¡¯s bronze coloured soul. Three seconds was all it took, and I connected the node in his soul to my Mana Pool, and said, ¡®Done.¡¯ I had only done this once before, shortly after arriving to Solace, letting Akela use my Mana despite being Krissy¡¯s familiar already. I knew it was going to work, what I didn¡¯t know was what Fenar was planning to do with it. Well, I didn¡¯t have to wait long to find out. Chapter One hundred and five Chapter One hundred and five I might be a little rusty, last I¡¯ve done this was over two hundred years ago. Master Fenar stated as he stepped towards the two orks who were busy throwing insults at each other in the middle of the room, surrounded by a crowd that slowly started to cheer for one or the other, as if this was nothing but a sporting event. I still had no idea what Fenar had in mind, but I began to suspect the greenskinned couple were in for a surprise. Then, I felt my Mana Pool ticking down. 1 MP, then another, then 2 MP, then two more, going over to Master Fenirig Arte. I could feel my Mana responding to his will, making the journey over to him in a split second, spreading out into his soul through the node. By the time he had taken the five steps separating us from the orks, he looked and felt ready to unleash whatever Mana-aided powermove he had in store. ¡®Ya skinny fuggen gank, stay da fugg outa mah way¡­¡¯ Big Wroogh turned his menacing attention to Master Fenar. ¡®Oi, the hell ya think yer doin¡¯ ¡­¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh also let his dissatisfaction known. Neither of them got to finish their sentences. In a sudden surge, at least 20 MP rushed out of my pool, maybe even more, joining the amount he had already drawn. Before any of the spectators ¡ª including me ¡ª could even blink, the Master of Third Rangers erupted in blue fire. My non-existent heart nearly stopped; I thought he was about to do a Mana-Blast, the same Mana-based skill I had used on several occasions to devastating effect. But another second passed, and everyone in the room was still standing intact as opposed to being heaps of flesh and bone mushed to a pulp, so it wasn¡¯t that. But the blue fire in which the elf was wreathed did not dissipate. It was there, and it was Mana. Sure, even physical creatures could see the spiritual substance occasionally, mostly as fleeting flashes, lasting half a second at a time. But the stuff around Fenar? How on earth was he doing that? And why? He didn¡¯t give me any time to figure it out; he moved, and the Mana-fire moved with him, leaving a smeary streak of blue behind. He was faster than I would have been able to see, had I been still using human eyes. The elven death-machine jumped between the two orks, each of them almost twice his size, and in the same fraction of the same second he grabbed both of them by their belts, lifted them off the ground, twirled them around like a pair of ugly yoyos, and slammed them down. All in a second or less. The wooden planks serving as floorboards cracked, and if not for the large rug, we¡¯d have been showered with splinters. Everyone jumped back, pressing themselves against the four walls of the room ¡ª orks, humans, even Fenar¡¯s rangers ¡ª their eyes widening with various degrees of shock and terror. To me the real shock was the way he used Mana. I could immediately tell that unlike Krissy, Kiwa, or other spiritualists I¡¯d seen, he wasn¡¯t using the blue stuff to give his muscles extra strength, his bones extra hardness, and extra protection to his body against impacts. Mana was flowing outside of his body, surrounding him and basically carrying him along. When he lifted the green brutes off the ground, he was simply providing vectors and directions via his own movements, and Mana did the heavy lifting on its own. This was nothing like Krissy or the late Jevan producing flying Mana-blades ¡ª the sheer mental control and finesse Fenar must have had to do this was insane. ¡®Hank, you taking notes?¡¯ I asked, completely awed. ¡®Hell yeah I¡¯m taking notes,¡¯ he whispered, completely awed. We¡¯ve got to learn how to do that! Krissy stated, blinking rapidly underneath her mask, completely awed. Another second passed; everyone was staring, completely awed. Big Wroogh and Raagstrom Raagh were groaning in pain, writhing in the small craters in the floor, and above them stood Fenar, spiritual fire burning bright and blue around him. It was a sight to behold, evoking a slew of emotions ranging from elation and adoration for a great hero, to ice-cold fear in the presence of a monster called the Hellspawn. ¡®And this is how we¡¯re all relegated to be side characters in our own story,¡¯ I remarked bitterly, remembering that Fenar was using my Mana, and I could close the tap at any moment. Maybe I should just settle down and write books. ¡°The Adventures of the Hellspawn, and why no-one should mess with him¡±. That will be the title. Krissy commented, managing to calm down in the process. No good, boss, we already have that book back home. The title¡¯s different, though. Popular with children. Kiwa chimed in, grinning underneath her mask. Fenar placed one foot on Big Wroogh''s chest, eliciting a squeal from him, but the man was looking at us. Well, at Krissy. I can hear every damn word. He said, his thought-voice matching the still ¡°burning¡± Mana-flames in intensity. ¡®Shit!¡¯ I yelped, whipping every single tentacle in my possession in a belated effort to slap my mouth shut, forgetting the fact I didn¡¯t have one. Fenar simply shook his head like a disappointed father looking at the stupidest of all his kids, then turned his attention to the orks at his feet. Alright, you fuckers, now you¡¯re going to listen! He sent his thunderous thoughts to them. The two green fellows twisted their necks to look up at his blazing form, and grunted their agreements. Fenar continued. That Gralnohr fellow back than had more spine than the two of you combined, you sorry sacks of shit. I remember I felt a little bad that I had to kill him, and that¡¯s something I¡¯m not feeling right now about you pair of pissants. Oh, if he could see what his people had become, he¡¯d have to make the tough choice between breaking down in tears or to just beat you all to a bloody pulp one by one. Anyway, long story short, I have some good news for you green bastards. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. The teenagers, the women, the slaves, and even the rangers were deathly quiet. The first ones to move were the two greenskinned women; my guess was that they probably thought it wasn¡¯t polite to be naked in the presence of mythical figures, so they decided to gather their clothes. Their cautious, fumbling effort to get dressed, and the fact the Fenar didn¡¯t do anything to punish their impudence, seemed to have served as encouragement for others to speak up. ¡®Da skinny gank ¡­ really is da Hellspawn,¡¯ Big Wroogh wheezed the words, his eyes on fiery Fenar, a nice mix of awe and terror showing on his face. ¡®Told ya,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh squeaked like a little bird, evidently in a lot of pain. Fenar took his foot off Big Wroogh¡¯s chest. The ork breathed in ¡ª I thought I heard some of his ribs cracking ¡ª and Fenar gave the pair of them a couple of seconds to clamber to a sitting position. ¡®Wot¡¯s da good news, Hellspawn?¡¯ Big Wroogh inquired warily. A scary smile crept up on Fenar¡¯s scarred face, partially obscured by Mana-fire. I was considering cutting him off from my Mana Pool ¡ª as cool and scary as it was, he¡¯d been having those blue flames going for half a minute now, and I calculated that it was costing me roughly 17 MP per minute against my 19 EP per minute Essence collection rate. With my EP to MP conversion rate just around 1 EP to 0.5 MP, this was a rather expensive trick. I could have had at least four people covered in Mana-Armour for that price. But this was sort of an important negotiation ¡ª if one could call it that ¡ª and I could keep it up for some time without impairing my ability to protect Krissy and myself. Besides, knowing how persuasive Fenar could be, I was sure this was going to be done in five minutes. I¡¯m glad you asked. The elf said, his grin growing. Out of my grudging respect for the big asshole back then, I¡¯m willing to help you idiots. I heard you¡¯re not keen on the so-called mystics running your little shitshow, so I brought the best fighters with me to give you a hand. Oh, and a couple of my own mystics too, just to have an edge. ¡®Ya ¡­ wanna go helpin¡¯ the Clan?¡¯ Big Wroogh asked, standing up rather shakily, his joints clacking and creaking like a hundred-year-old rocking chair. Raagstrom Raagh followed his example, clambering to his feet in a similarly wobbly fashion, but neither of them complained or showed any sign of pain. Not for free. Fenar stated. ¡®Wot ya wanna go takin¡¯ from us?¡¯ the big one asked. ¡®Gank wants ¡®em pointy eared slaves. The new ones,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh informed him. ¡®Ooooh. Dat it? I ain¡¯t gon stop ¡®im takin¡¯ any of ¡®em skinnies, no problem. Wot else?¡¯ An oath from your Clan that none of you bastards will ever come to our place to take slaves or to do anything else. At all. Ever. Fenar presented his demand. And with that, my suspicion was confirmed as to why Fenar was suddenly so willing to help these miscreants to fight a well-established and dangerous clan leadership. For him ¡ª and for the elves of Solace by extension ¡ª getting their people back and destroying the galleys, ports and shipbuilding capabilities, was a somewhat long-term solution. To help the rebels achieve a regime change and getting a security guarantee in return, was an even longer-term solution, and I guessed Fenar didn¡¯t want to let this chance go to waste. Even if it would cost the lives of some of his rangers. This was both a political and military decision, and knowing the kind of clout he had in Solace, plus his wife being a senior member of the Solace government, I imagined he¡¯d easily get away with it. Well, depending on the results. Big Wroogh and Raagstrom Raagh looked at each other, the hatchet buried already, some sort of non-verbal communication taking place between the two brutes. ¡®If ya ganks help kill dat fuggen Skraath Ironbite and his shitgreen, pissdrinkin¡¯ mystics, da Vraathkill will go swearin¡¯ an oath to da Hellspawn,¡¯ the big ork answered. That was good enough for Fenar, and he finally let the blue fire around him die down, easing the strain on my Mana Pool. The rest of the rangers, and to a lesser extent the orks, looked a little confused ¡ª they had only heard bits and pieces of the conversation ¡ª and they were all waiting for their respective bosses to make an announcement. When Big Wroogh dusted himself down and told the teenagers and the women that the long-awaited end of the mystics was happening tonight, their eyes danced with joy and something else I could only interpret as an eager anticipation of violence. Big Wroogh then sent everyone except Raagstrom Raagh ¡ª even Trevor and the other two slaves ¡ª to go and get the band together, instructing them to tell all willing participants to meet up at a certain location in town and wait for him and the Hellspawn to come and lead them to victory. Judging by the chatter on the comm-node the teenagers were on, there was going to be no shortage of willing participants, in fact, they were expecting at least half of the city¡¯s residents to quickly arm themselves and march against the spirit-aided tyranny of ork shamans. Fenar told his men what was going to happen, and presented them with a new plan, a plan I thought was quite decent for something he had just made up on the fly. The only issue was that while five of the ranger teams ¡ª led by Tovaron Ento ¡ª would follow some of Big Wroogh¡¯s orks to the part of town where the slaves were kept, Krissy and I would have to stick with Fenar and provide him with Mana and tentacle support, so he could fight at his best if it came to that. Which I was sure it would. Big Wroogh rummaged through something that vaguely resembled a wardrobe ¡ª several rough planks arranged in a certain way, basically ¡ª and pulled out a leather vest for himself. After some more searching and swearing, he produced a shield and an axe that was almost larger than Krissy, as well as a meat-cleaver-looking weapon for Raagstrom Raagh. He then turned to Fenar, and said, ¡®Awright, Hellspawn, da fight gon be tough. Fuggen mystics ain¡¯t no joke, and Skraath Ironbite ain¡¯t da merciful sort. Ya can go pullin¡¯ dat fire-thing on ¡®em?¡¯ Huh! I can do more than that. If all else fails, I¡¯ll set a Tentacle Horror on them. Fenar said gleefully, laughing like a B-movie villain. ¡®I like this plan,¡¯ Hank commented, the elven warmachine¡¯s dangerous mood rubbing onto him already. Kevin, we¡¯re going to be fine, right? We can handle this, right? Krissy asked, her confidence level seemingly lower, matching mine more than Hank¡¯s. ¡®Yeah. We should be fine,¡¯ I assured her. Because why wouldn¡¯t we be fine? Fenar was a monster, Big Wroogh was a literal monster, I was a spiritual monster, and if that wasn¡¯t enough, half a city¡¯s worth of orks would be there to back us up. And if things went south? We just needed to buy enough time for Toven to evacuate the captured elves, and we could bail and let the orks play by themselves. What could go wrong? Chapter One hundred and six Chapter One hundred and six Once Big Wroogh had declared himself ready for action, he led us out of the house. Under the makeshift canvas roof over the small square, three smallish orks were already waiting for us. Huh, Golty and his mates had been working fast spreading the news, hadn¡¯t they? The three new and nervous looking ork teenagers ¡ª for I was sure they weren¡¯t much older than the OG Teen-squad ¡ª turned out to be the ones Big Wroogh had designated as guides to take Tovaron Ento and his five or six teams to where most of the new slaves were kept. I hooked Toven up to the young orks with a new thread and an unused comm-node so they could communicate, and after a short and temperamental introduction the kids left the square, and Toven and his rangers followed them using the time-honoured art of roof-hopping ¡ª because why use the streets and roads like normal people, when you can use rooftops? Well, I supposed roofs were less muddy, so that made some sense. Maybe. Eh, rangers and ninjas. I was sure they¡¯d do a good job either way, and I watched them disappear one after another under the night sky and behind the numerous buildings of the city. Fenar kept his own team of four with him and ordered the twenty remaining rangers to get on those rooftops to follow us as sneakily as possible and to be on the lookout for anything. From then on, it was difficult to tell whether things were going well or going poorly, to be honest. Our group ¡ª consisting of Fenar and his team, Krissy, Kiwa and of course the two big orks leading the way ¡ª went a different direction, and we had the muddy streets all to ourselves. The first street we trudged through was empty. That was fine. The next street was also empty, no problems. On the third street we ran into a group of orks ¡ª ten of them, youngish looking and psyched up for violence, waving torches and weapons of all kinds, and chanting some sort of growly slogans or whatnot. Big Wroogh seemed to know them, and after a brief exchange of grunts, they joined our procession, and we were on our merry way, getting closer to the centre of Vraathblood, the designated marketplace where all the disgruntled orks were supposed to assemble. Two streets later we bumped into another group of locals, and this was the point where I became confused as to how things were going. The group was larger than the previous one, and on top of the twenty or so orks, it included just as many slaves. It was strange to see humans adopting their monstrous masters¡¯ enthusiasm for whatever was going on, but the real issue was the four severed ork heads stuck on the ends of the wooden spikes they were carrying, dark blood dripping down and staining their ragged clothes. The short conversation Big Wroogh had with the apparent leader of this latest ¡°band of brothers¡± revealed that the group in question had decided it was time to settle some grievances with a few non-spiritualist henchmen of Skraath Ironbite, and four unlucky ones just so happened to be patrolling the area. As we marched on, doors of houses were opening here and there, and orks and some humans were joining us every few seconds on every street we traversed, anticipating the coming slaughter of the oppressors. Was this a good sign? Was this a bad sign? Was this a sign at all? Regardless of what it was, I was rather impressed by the speed with which Golty, Ronron and the rest of their gang had been spreading the news of the Hellspawn-uprising. ¡®This is spreading quickly, heads are rolling already,¡¯ I commented as our group turned another corner, filing into yet another street that had yet another group, holding three bloodied poles with ork heads at the tips in a gruesome display. No turning back now, is there? Krissy asked. I wasn¡¯t sure if her thought-voice sounded scared or determined, or just resigned. Come on, boss, we¡¯re not turning back. This is war, war is ugly, and we like it for what it is, don¡¯t we? Kitala Iwani decided to nip the sentiment in the bud, and I was sure she was trying to send a sliver of her enthusiasm over to my host ¡ª I could definitely feel something from her, but it didn¡¯t seem like Krissy was picking up on it. Trust Kiwa to find pleasure in violence. Could it be that she was an ork in an elf¡¯s body? I decided not to think about it. This isn¡¯t war. Fenar stated suddenly. It isn¡¯t? Kiwa asked, rather shocked. And perhaps disappointed. Wars are ugly. Revolutions are uglier. Much, much uglier. And we¡¯re not turning back. Fenar said, and it sounded like he knew what he was talking about. By the time the street merged with another, wider avenue, our group had swollen to at least a hundred and fifty orks, plenty of human slaves, and a dozen heads on long, sharp sticks. Ork or human, they were all angry, determined, and with no aversion to violence whatsoever. From the snippets of conversations I was catching from Big Wroogh, Raagstrom Raagh, and even Golty ¡ª although I had no idea where that kid was currently ¡ª the news of the Hellspawn coming to the aid of the Vraathkill against a common foe was something like the last straw, or the catalyst, or a divine sign the people had been waiting for. This had been brewing for some time, I had no doubt about that. Master Fenar was right. War was ugly, but this wasn¡¯t a war. This was a revolution; people rising up against a regime they loathed and wanted gone. And Master Fenar was right about another thing: revolutions were uglier. I was neither an expert on the topic nor a historian of course, but I remembered enough from high school history lessons and later readings ¡ª plenty of examples of the very thing unfolding here. The French Revolution wasn¡¯t exactly a walk in the park with flowers and songbirds ¡ª Robespierre really made those guillotines work overtime. Comrades Lenin and Trotsky weren¡¯t the shy sorts either when it came to organising a revolution ¡ª just ask those millions of Russians who ended up in mass graves, or gulags first and then mass graves. The Chinese had their own fun ¡ª Chairman Mao decided to throw a party, and he was rather efficient in murdering or starving to death those he perceived to be tens of millions of party-poopers. And the list went on. Yeah, revolutions were ugly back on good old Earth, and I saw no indication it would be any different here among the greenskinned weirdos. But even more worrying was a distinct trend among revolutionaries: more often than not they ended up dictators themselves, becoming huge problems rather than any kind of solutions to anything. I saw no reason why orks would be an exception, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the Clan, or the slaves, or anyone really, would be better off under the leadership of Big Wroogh, or whoever else was in charge or wanted to be in charge. The way I saw it, they were united in their hatred of the shamans and the mystics at this moment, but who knew what would happen once the common enemy was gone? I supposed only time would tell, and while I was a little curious, I hoped to hell we wouldn¡¯t be here to witness it. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The green shits came through, we¡¯re at the place. Tovaron Ento¡¯s report broke me out of my train of thoughts regarding revolutions. They¡¯re saying the guards are tough, or something. I think I can hear elven speech from one of the buildings. A woman¡¯s voice. Anything you can¡¯t handle? Fenar asked. No sir, we can take them. Fifteen orks, maybe a few more in one of the larger warehouse type buildings. Toven gave his assessment. Good. We¡¯ll keep everyone busy over here, but be careful. Find and get every single one of our people back to the ships, Tovaron Ento! No-one gets left behind! The Master of Third Rangers ordered him, his tone more sombre and serious than I¡¯d ever heard. Yes sir! We won¡¯t fail. Toven said, then he issued some orders to his teams over another comm-node. Master Fenirig Arte was once again right. We were going to keep everyone busy over here, and by everyone I meant everyone. The whole Clan, probably. I could now hear the murmurings, or rather the crazed screaming of a huge crowd, sifting through the streets from up ahead, exactly from the direction we were heading. That must have been the famous city centre of Vraathblood, and I was suddenly a little nervous. *** I had a better view of the place than most as we arrived at the edge of city centre, having my tentacles spread far and wide to observe this central marketplace. It was a decent sized square, wet mud instead of stones or tiles of course, and it was chok-a-block with people of all sorts ¡ª orks mostly, then humans, and even a few of the emo-goth-looking elven slaves, hundreds in total, all of them armed one way or another: spears, spikes, axes, hammers, crude swords and meat-cleavers, and anything else an ork could pick up and use as a weapon. Big Wroogh began bellowing at them, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea in front of a green, bulky Moses, and we made our way to the middle of the place amidst the deafening cheers of the people and the wary gazes of their opponents. Well, one couldn¡¯t accuse orks of being patient or restrained in any way shape or form. A frontline, or rather a skirmish line had already formed in the middle of the square: the people of the clan on one side, the regime¡¯s henchmen on the other, and even though no-one was fighting at the moment, dozens of orks and some human bodies littered the ground, cut to pieces, sunken into a mix of blood and mud. Unfortunately, I saw no reason for any optimism as I observed the fallen and the ones that had done the killing. ¡®Damn!¡¯ I muttered just to myself. ¡®Damn indeed,¡¯ Krissy agreed, speaking out loud, suddenly sweating under her mask. The line of henchmen facing the crowd ¡ª at least thirty of them ¡ª was not what I¡¯d expected. Maybe I had got too used to seeing the creatures wearing light, rugged clothes and little to no armour, occasional wooden shields, and heavy but crudely crafted weapons. In my mind they were the stereotypical barbarians with a Pirates of the Caribbean vibe, the belligerent, over-the-top macho brutes we all knew and loved. But no, not the minions of Skraath Ironbite. They were completely out of place here: I saw no green skin under all the steel armour that covered them from head to toe. Giant knights armed with steel-clad shields, enormous spears and billhooks, broad-bladed swords and maces at their hips. These guys were no joke, and the icing on this well disciplined, armoured cake were the familiars hovering above two of the ork paladins. I suddenly understood how a small number of spiritualists could maintain power and control over a clan of thousands of bloodthirsty orks. Hell, I didn¡¯t even think they needed spiritualists to handle the rabble, which was something they seemed to be very good at, judging by the dead at their feet. I caught a glimpse of a few of Fenar¡¯s guys, looking down at the square from the roofs of the surrounding houses. Solace rangers were probably the best archers in existence, not to mention sneaky as hell, but I had my doubts that even they could do anything about these armoured beasts. It made a frightening amount of sense now that the Vraathkill Clan had been biding their time, playing along with Sivera¡¯s spiritualists, waiting for the right time, opportunity and advantage before rising up. Unfortunately, it was us who had brought the right time, opportunity and advantage. The Hellspawn. Well, it was what it was, and at this point we had no choice but to roll with it ¡ª there was a lot at stake for Solace, and I understood that we had to see this through. A number of things happened in short order. Big Wroogh took his place in front of his people, some orks joining him ¡ª presumably his own, closest henchmen, or aides ¡ª and they promptly started a shouting match with the entire line of our armoured opponents a mere dozen steps from our side of the town-square-turned-battlefield. From what I could hear, Big Wroogh incorporated a call for surrender into the barrage of insults he was yelling at them, and by the tone of their replies I guessed the enemy was refusing to do so. Fenar and his rangers, and therefore Krissy and Kiwa too, lined up behind the revolutionary leader, observing the ongoings quietly. At the same time, the two enemy familiars began to squirm ¡ª if that was the right word ¡ª as they finally took notice of me and Tilry, but mostly me. The spirits seemed to have adopted a somewhat orkish appearance for their earthly avatars; both had four arms though, and one of them seemed to have something like hair covering its mostly featureless head. But that was just an aesthetic choice as far as I was concerned, nothing to do with abilities, pool sizes and the such, which were the important things when it came to fighting. I¡¯d had enough experience now to know how regular spirits would react to my presence, and I wasn¡¯t disappointed. ¡®Is that ¡­ that¡¯s a ¡­ that¡¯s a Tentacle Horror!¡¯ one of the spirits cried out, turning its blue, translucent head to the other. ¡®Oh shit oh shit oh shit!¡¯ the other one with the hair squealed like a terrified kid, its ¡ª or his ¡ª voice in stark contrast to his very orkish appearance. ¡®What do we do? That monster¡¯s big!¡¯ Their orkish hosts immediately started turning their heads around, looking for the source of the voices ¡ª I supposed the familiars had been following the unwritten rule of not talking to their hosts unless the situation absolutely made it necessary. Such as the appearance of a Tentacle Horror. ¡®Oi, that¡¯s just rude!¡¯ I yelled over to the familiars. ¡®Monster? Come on! I¡¯m an Emotional Support Tentacle Horror. Got a license to practice and everything!¡¯ ¡®It ¡­ it speaks!¡¯ Both spirits gasped. ¡®Yeah we speak.¡¯ Hank joined in, deciding it was time for him to participate. ¡®What did you expect? Happy tentacle-noises?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s the one Rendo spoke about. The one from the Graal¡¯s ship,¡¯ said the spirit with the imitation-hair on his head. ¡®Why is it here?¡¯ Are you talking to familiars? How many of them are spiritualists? Fenar inquired, having heard my part of the conversation. ¡®Uh, two of them. The confused ones, looking around,¡¯ I informed him. Teams, be on the lookout. Once this shit spills from the barrel, I expect more spiritualists to show up. Maybe even their bosses. Engage only on my order! Fenar instructed his men, receiving snappy ¡°yes sirs¡± from the team leaders perching on the rooftops, hidden from sight. ¡®Master Fenar, what¡¯s the plan here?¡¯ I asked. ¡®Are we going to fight them head on, or should I start eating them?¡¯ ¡®I vote eating,¡¯ Hank chimed in. Predictably. No, my invisible, shitheaded friends, we need to keep as many of them busy for as long as we can. He said, shaking his head. ¡®Okay, that makes sense, but what is the actual plan?¡¯ Fenar turned and looked Kitala Iwani and Krissy up and down, settling his gaze on their masks ¡ª one laughing, one crying ¡ª for a good three seconds. When the green imbeciles resume fighting, which they will any moment, I will give them Joy and Misery for a start. We¡¯ll see how we proceed after that. Can you handle it? Krissy and Kiwa looked at each other, but only I could see the expressions on their faces under the masks. ¡®Hey, boss, I got a nickname, too. Fucking finally!¡¯ Kiwa screeched with excitement, her eyes wide with joyful anticipation. ¡®Damn,¡¯ Krissy swore, her brows furrowed, looking miserable under her mask. I hadn¡¯t even considered until now how well the masks and the nicknames fit these two women and their respective personalities. Maybe I¡¯d spend some time pondering it later, but for now, it seemed Big Wroogh¡¯s negotiations were coming to an end, and soon it would be time for Joy and Misery to shine. And for me to either subdue or eat two spirits. Oh, goody. Chapter One hundred and seven Chapter One hundred and seven Well, before I could decide whether eating or otherwise subduing the enemy spirits would be the better choice, and before Krissy could finish her latest bout of swearing ¡ª something she was getting quite good at ¡ª the two ork spiritualists turned tail and ran at the urging of their familiars. I didn¡¯t know why I was surprised that they weren¡¯t willing to take their chances against a well-developed Tentacle Horror. It was spiritual common sense, to be honest, and I couldn¡¯t really blame them for it; living creatures had no particular desire to die, and spirits weren¡¯t exceptions. The problem was that they were sure to report not only the development of a popular uprising, but my presence as well, which was sure to spur the rest of the so-called mystics into action. I supposed it was too late to do anything about it; the two orks vanished into a street that didn¡¯t have rebels blocking it, and the henchmen-line closed the gap, shields up, spears and billhooks levelled, ready for action. What did you do? Master Fenar demanded angrily. ¡®Nothing. They just looked at me and decided I was too much for them to handle.¡¯ I reported. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, they¡¯ll be bringing some friends soon. I¡¯m sure of it.¡¯ ¡®Fuggen gankshit cowards!¡¯ Big Wroogh swore, shaking his fist at the remaining thirty-something armoured orks, the crowd screaming their agreement with their glorious and very large leader. Because he was the leader, wasn¡¯t he? ¡®Them fuggers gon be bringin¡¯ the rest of¡¯ em mystics down on us,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh commented, sounding far from happy. He was standing behind Master Fenar and his rangers ¡ª quite wisely in my opinion ¡ª eliminating the chance of him dying in the first round, should the fighting start again. I never would have thought I¡¯d ever say this about an ork, but the captain was basically the voice of reason here, expressing the same concerns I had. The green shithead¡¯s right. Fenar said, nodding his head. ¡®So?¡¯ I asked, and even Big Wroogh turned his head, apparently interested in the Hellspawn¡¯s opinion. We¡¯re killing these fuckers here, then we take the fight to their bosses before they can ready themselves any more than they already have. He presented the plan. Joy! Misery! You¡¯re up. Kill them, eat them, do what you need to, just make sure none of them get up again! Krissy and Kiwa looked at each other, their hands already on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw. ¡®Oi, Hellspawn, ya wanna go leavin¡¯ us just watchin¡¯ the fun?¡¯ Big Wroogh asked, turning his head around to look at the man, his voice conveying how offended he was by this. I don¡¯t think you can handle it. Fenar said to him, shrugging, his thought-voice filled with condescension. ¡®Ya stooopid fuggen gank mystic, if ya think we ain¡¯t good enough to go handlin¡¯ dem fuggers, then go fugg ¡­¡¯ Fine, fine, feel free to join in you stupid green fuck, just don¡¯t complain if you die in the process. Fenar said to him, shrugging again. The big guy roared happily ¡ª or angrily, I wasn¡¯t sure ¡ª lifting his round, wooden shield with one hand, drawing his mace with the other, the sign hundreds of angry orks and slaves had been waiting for. I was about to start Mana-armour going as Krissy and Kiwa began drawing their swords, and just as Big Wroogh and his mates charged ahead, the green, toothy fury of the clan following them with the most terrifying battle-cry on their lips, effectively swarming the ork paladins. ¡®What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡¯ Master Fenar thundered at my host and her self-appointed bodyguard. They both stopped as if a stone wall had just popped up in front of them, separating them from the wave of orks crashing into the shields and spears of the enemy. It was a miracle the girls ¡ª or any of the comparably small human slaves ¡ª weren¡¯t trampled into the ground by this tidal wave of orks. ¡®Uh ¡­ joining the fight?¡¯ Kiwa said, sounding uncertain all of a sudden. ¡®Wasn¡¯t that the plan?¡¯ Krissy inquired, just as confused. The lightly armed rebel horde crashed into the armoured line, dark blood spraying everywhere as the shields held them back, and spears, swords and maces began to do their gory work. In a second, the first greenish souls were ready to be collected and consumed by yours truly. Fenar grinned as the roars and cries accompanying the bloodshed intensified, then he glanced at us. ¡®You can¡¯t be this dense. Oh, my mistake, you can and you are. Just look! Do you think they need us for a measly couple dozen idiots in armour with no familiars? They just needed a push, and I gave it to them,¡¯ he explained it to us, looking at the two masked women as if they were the dumbest creatures in this world. Krissy and Kiwa tried to get a good look at the fight, but it was difficult for anyone without long tentacles to see anything more than the backs of barbarians trying to push to the front and get a piece of the action. Luckily, I had long tentacles. The well armed henchmen held their line for about ten seconds, bashing, chopping and skewering the virtually unprotected attackers, killing dozens of them in as brutal a manner as one would expect. I suddenly realised what Fenar¡¯s game was: as he had put it, our temporary allies didn¡¯t need us for this. What they had needed was some motivation and a push, and the Hellspawn had played them like a fiddle, intentionally poking at their orkish pride, while never actually intending to send Krissy and Kiwa into this shitstorm. The man certainly deserved some grudging respect. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Thirty seconds. That¡¯s what it took for Big Wroogh¡¯s followers to swallow up the enemy. I had stopped being squeamish some time ago, but the sound of armour crumpling under the heavy blows of maces and warhammers like empty cola cans, blood seeping through the cracks, dying orks roaring in pain ¡­ man, that was something that would have haunted anyone¡¯s dreams. The ork-knights ¡ª or whatever they were ¡ª all fell in the end, but they had exacted quite the price for their lives, leaving a pile of at least a hundred dead rebels, a gory testament to their combat prowess. And on that note, I began to help myself to the numerous souls left behind on this gruesome battlefield. *** The situation was developing rapidly, and it felt like the souls of the dead were degrading faster than usual, so I had to put extra effort into eating. I worked hard coordinating my cute, not-so-little tentacles, and by the time the Battle of The Town Square was finished, and a blood-covered Big Wroogh, standing on the corpse of an armoured ork, declared their first victory and made the motion that we go all the way up to Fort Vraath and start knocking it down, I had managed to eat twenty-four ork and one human souls. Out of the almost 2000 EXP I was supposed to get, Hank stole at least 200. I still had no idea how he was doing it or what he was doing with it, but this wasn¡¯t the time to start solving the mystery. Besides, with this latest haul I had 2800 EXP in the bank, and the party was just starting. I had a feeling I might actually be able to collect the 10000 EXP I needed for Level 37. I took a quick look around to make sure everyone that mattered ¡ª or sort of mattered ¡ª was still around; Krissy and Kiwa were fine, standing and staring at the scene, probably wondering how they had managed to stay standing in the midst of hundreds of orks rushing into a fight. Fenar and his team were fine, too, and I could spot a few of the rangers on the rooftops, observing from the shadows. Trevor the slave had somehow ended up hiding behind Raagstrom Raagh, who in turn had ended up standing a few steps behind Master Fenar. I knew for a fact the guy wasn¡¯t a cowardly gank ¡ª he had fought tooth and nail for his galley ¡ª but for some reason he didn¡¯t seem enthused about being here. Maybe he had just decided to let landlubbers do their landlubber things while yearning for the crashing waves of the sea. Golty and Ronron were here too, cheering with the crowd, but judging by the lack of blood and mud on them, they had probably been providing moral support to the troops rather than participating directly. The crowd was in a frenzy, chanting diligently, with Big Wroogh serving as the conductor for this messy concert, and soon more heads appeared on the tips of the spears they had looted from the fallen. Yep, revolutions were ugly, no doubt about that. Big Wroogh turned his attention to the dark hill in the distance. Actually, it wasn¡¯t that far, in fact a quarter of the city was probably situated on the shallow slopes. I could just about see the large hump it was in the darkness, and the few tiny specks of light on the top must have been the lights of Fort Vraath, residence of the shamans. If we¡¯re lucky, the damned barbarian spiritualists will shut the gates of their stupid fort, and we¡¯ll have a siege. That we can draw out for as long as Tovaron Ento needs to complete his job. Master Fenirig Arte told us on our own comm-channel, then added: After that, we¡¯ll see. I had no problem with that ¡ª leaving the orks to do most of the work was a good plan. They sure looked like they were up to it. However, I didn¡¯t think Master Fenar fully understood the kind of zeal familiars had when it came to dealing with Tentacle Horrors, and I had a feeling that the spiritualists occupying the fort ¡ª or rather their familiars ¡ª would consider it a priority to rid the world of me. Especially if there were a bunch of them; if it was just one or two, they might decide digging in or fleeing was a reasonable thing to do. If they had five or six, I could see them breaking out of the fort and using everything they had to get to me, casualties be damned. Well, as Fenar had said: ¡°we¡¯ll see.¡± *** The hill was much closer than it had seemed, and the march to the fort was a lot shorter than I had expected. It took only ten minutes for the revolutionary army to leave the last building of Vraathblood behind, then they could finally spread out, trudge up the hill, and approach Fort Vraath. In the fairly narrow streets it had been difficult to see and appreciate just how many of the orks were participating in this event. Raagstrom Raagh had put the population of the town to be around three to four thousand, and now that I saw them out on an open field, I was sure at least a quarter of the residents were here. At least a thousand. Well, I wasn¡¯t going to start counting, but it looked like the revolution actually had a fighting chance, maybe even without the Hellspawn, the rangers, and us. That was until we got close enough to the fort to see it properly. Our makeshift barbarian army stopped at about fifty metres from the walls of the place, and began to spread out. I stretched my tentacles forward over their heads to get a good look. Fort Vraath. Well, I supposed I could call it a fort if I was in a charitable mood. In reality, it looked like a fairly large, walled compound, and an ugly one at that. The walls themselves were at least two, maybe two and a half metres tall, part stone and part wood, something like a palisade made of crudely processed tree-trunks with the occasional rock fillings. I could see one gate, large enough for a truck to fit through. It was closed of course. A couple of two-strorey buildings stood inside the perimeter, and they weren¡¯t any different from the houses I¡¯d seen in town, complete with the same type of thatched roofs. Not exactly a Disney Castle, but it was certainly a defensible position and a problem for us. Inside the compound I could see armoured orks running up and down, presumably preparing for the upcoming confrontation, or siege. I was catching glimpses of the blue, translucent bodies of familiars amongst them, which was worrying, but without getting at least forty metres closer and sticking a few tenties through the wall, it was impossible to tell how many orks and how many spirits were in there. Tovaron Ento! Report! Master Fenirig Arte requested an update when we all came to a halt behind the lines of orks, who were completing their encirclement of the place. We¡¯ve dealt with most of the guards, fifty-three of our people are already on the way to the ships with an escort of two rangers. Toven reported, and even by his thought-voice I could tell he was out of breath. They must have had quite the fight there. The rest are spread out in different buildings, so we¡¯re split up by teams to check house-to-house. It turns out some of them have been sold already, so we¡¯ll need to pay a visit to some out-of-clan merchants who¡¯re still in town. Our greeny-guides are saying some might have been transported to other clans already. If so, I¡¯m not sure we can do anything about them. We do what we can do in this town. Good work, keep it up! Fenar said, then turned his attention to the problems at hand. So, they call this shitpile a fort? I could take this place by myself. He was just oozing confidence, wasn¡¯t he, likely based on his access to my Mana. Hm. Frankly, I would have been willing to sacrifice the contents of my Mana-pool to see him taking the fort by himself, but before I could broach the subject and try to goad him into actually doing it ¡ª the same way he had goaded Big Wroogh into a mad charge earlier in the town-square ¡ª the orks finished positioning themselves in a half encirclement, then Big Wroogh himself walked some ten steps forward towards the gate and started yelling at it. ¡®Skraath Ironbite, ya slimy, shitmunchin¡¯ gank! Da people are ¡®ere for ya, and we ain¡¯t in da mood to wait. Get yer ass out ¡®ere, so I can rip yer spine out and shove it down yer throat.¡¯ Hm. Orkish diplomacy at its finest. I wasn¡¯t sure if the occupants of the fort would grace him with an answer, but I was sure that whatever was going to happen would be bloody, probably entertaining, and likely dangerous for Tentacle Horrors. Chapter One hundred and eight Chapter One hundred and eight I was wrong: Big Wroogh¡¯s simple but rude call was answered ¡ª the gate of the fort slowly creaked open, each leaf pushed by two orks, and our adversaries came out to meet us. And I was also right: this was more than just dangerous for a lone Tentacle Horror. Twenty huge figures walked out onto the sloping field between us and the fort, armed and armoured to the point they had might as well been tanks, and as if that wasn¡¯t enough, each of them had a familiar hovering behind them. This was the largest concentration of spirits I¡¯d seen so far, and the fact the blue, translucent bastards were all staring at me, flexing their varying number of arms ending in spiritual claws or long, sharp nails, didn¡¯t bode well. Not at all. I had expected maybe five or six of them ¡ª between me, Tilry and Fenar, and a few hundred orks, we could have handled that much. But this? This was not good. Huh! The idiots actually came out. Master Fenirig Arte scoffed. Do they even know what a fort is for? Fucking barbarians and their overconfidence. ¡®Uhm ¡­ I don¡¯t know about that,¡¯ I said to him, hoping my voice wasn¡¯t too shaky. ¡®They¡¯re ¡­ they¡¯re all spiritualists.¡¯ All of them? Well, isn¡¯t that something. Looks like we¡¯ll have to do some work after all. He commented, sounding as unconcerned as if this was nothing but some overtime on top of a long, Sunday afternoon shift. And he was the one accusing the enemy of overconfidence? Damn, he was going to be the death of us, wasn¡¯t he? A nervous silence fell on the rebel crowd as one of the twenty mystics stepped forward from their line, glaring at Big Wroogh. I couldn¡¯t be sure if he was the famous Skraath Ironbite, but he definitely looked the part of a main villain. His armour was different than the rest wore, lighter maybe, plenty of extra spikes, and more ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure. Customised, perhaps? Kind of like the difference between a made to order product and something that came off an assembly line. The battleaxe he held with both hands was a mean looking weapon, perfectly suitable for spilling guts, and I was sure he knew how to use it to maximum effect. The ork himself wasn¡¯t too large though, certainly not larger than Big Wroogh, but his face screamed ¡°evil¡± ¡ª even compared to the rest of the orks, and they weren¡¯t particularly pleasant to look at ¡ª and his eyes were almost literally glowing with what I could only describe as malice. And if that didn¡¯t make him the boss of the bad guys, then one look at his familiar would have been enough to convince anyone. It was the first spirit I¡¯d seen with six arms. Rather grotesque, but then again, spirit beauty standards were somewhat relative. Regardless, it meant this was a higher level familiar than Tilry, but just by looking at him I couldn¡¯t gauge his pool sizes or how effective he¡¯d be fighting directly against me. Then the villainous looking ork spoke. I didn¡¯t understand a word, but Big Wroogh¡¯s reply allowed me to guess fairly accurately. ¡®Tentacles? What tentacles? Ya lost yer fuggen mind already? This ain¡¯t some soul-eatin¡¯ gank, it¡¯s da Hellspawn, and we¡¯re to take ya down.¡¯ Well, my dear, ignorant and not very bright Big Wroogh, unfortunately the enemy was correct. ¡®No! It¡¯s a Tentacle Horror. We must kill it!¡¯ the six-armed familiar shrieked, then his host spoke again, probably repeating the demand. The rest of the spirits were murmuring their agreements, some of them fidgeting the same way a physical creature would, whether in nervousness or in anticipation of killing me, I couldn¡¯t tell. Big Wroogh yelled back some obscenities to him, calling him by name, thus confirming that the ork in question was not Skraath Ironbite, but Zotaagh Gutspiller ¡ª his partner in crime or main henchman. Well, the evil looking guy had an evil sounding name regardless, but it also meant he was kind of a mini-boss, and the main event was still hiding behind the walls of the fort. ¡®This isn¡¯t looking good, Master Fenirig Arte, they didn¡¯t come out here to fight the orks, they¡¯re here to kill me,¡¯ I complained to him. Can¡¯t you kill them or eat them? You¡¯ve done that before, no? Krissy asked, gripping the hilt of her sword like there was no tomorrow, the inside of her misery mask dripping with sweat. There¡¯s twenty of them. Even he can¡¯t deal with that, can he? Tilry asked, her voice somewhat hopeful, but at the same time turning her head around as if looking for an escape route. Honestly, I couldn¡¯t blame her. Her host, on the other hand, was smiling under her mask, looking like this was shaping up to be the best day of her life. I was unsure whether I¡¯d ever understand this weird elf woman, or if I¡¯d live long enough to be able to at least try. ¡®Hank, care to weigh in?¡¯ I asked, not sure what I was hoping to hear from my idiot-brother. ¡®I say we get to eating. They look tasty.¡¯ Yeah, asking him was a mistake, as always. ¡®Maybe we should sort of leave the orks to it? I¡¯m sure they can work this out between themselves,¡¯ I said, finding myself agreeing with Tilry¡¯s unspoken idea of getting out of here post haste. Oh, stop whining. What are you? A spirit of cowardice? Master Fenar decided to shut down the discussion that was close to turning into a pity-party-slash-run-for-our-lives event. Things are going fine. How are we on power? Got enough for Misery and me both? ¡®Uh ¡­ yeah, tank¡¯s full.¡¯ I reported. ¡®I can keep your weird fire-thing and Krissy¡¯s Mana-armour up for about ¡­ let¡¯s see ¡­ for about eight to ten minutes, with some extra for Krissy to use.¡¯ Then we¡¯ll be just fine. He said, his thought-voice reverberating with finality. Well, I definitely disliked being called a coward when I was making good progress doing away with being a pushover. But I didn¡¯t have a deathwish either, and I was sure Krissy¡¯s vision of the future didn¡¯t include her being skewered by ork spiritualists. The loud and angry back-and-forth between Big Wroogh and Zotaagh Gutspiller was still happening, demands for surrender and demands for slaying the Tentacle Horror being issued and rejected then getting lost in a metric ton of swearing and name-calling ¡ª probably an orkish pre-battle ritual or something. I wanted to believe Fenar¡¯s insane confidence was justified. But twenty spirits against my twelve tentacles? And to make things worse, they were up the slope from us ¡ª sure, it was a very gentle slope, but if the prequel trilogy had taught us anything, it was that high ground mattered. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡®Krissy, if you don¡¯t want to do this, now is the time to say something. Or to bail,¡¯ I said to my host, hoping she¡¯d turn tail and run as far from here as possible. I knew full well this was an underhanded attempt on my part to push the responsibility on her, but I just couldn¡¯t get myself to see our odds in the same positive light as Fenar. ¡®No turning back. We can do this. We¡¯re doing this,¡¯ she said, almost whispering the words, her breathing fast and shallow, her hand on the hilt of her sword trembling. Oh, Krissy! I was sure that by saying it out loud she was trying to convince herself, and perhaps me as well, that Fenar was right, and this was going to be a piece of cake. ¡®That¡¯s my boss!¡¯ Kiwa squealed her approval excitedly. I really needed some of that stupidly defiant, maniacal bravery right now. ¡®I¡¯m ready, Kiwa,¡¯ Tilry stated with the voice of someone who had given up fighting fate. Then she looked at me. ¡®How many spirits can say they fought alongside a Tentacle Horror and not against it?¡¯ Et tu, Tilry? I was speechless. Then again, she wasn¡¯t a Tentacle Horror, therefore wasn¡¯t really a target. Must have been comforting to know. They¡¯re nearly done with their insult-contest. Stupid barbarians and their stupid way of doing things! We¡¯ll strike now before they finish. Fenar announced. Yep, no turning back now. *** Master Fenar ¡ª bless his aggressively vulgar and proactive soul ¡ª shot forward with a mental yell of ¡°follow my lead¡±. I nearly had a heart attack ¡ª or the spiritual equivalent of it ¡ª as Mana rushed out of my pool, reaching and enveloping him in a split second. Krissy was already on edge and ready for anything, Kiwa was just a maniac, so they followed the elf without hesitation, drawing more Mana from me and Tilry, and dragging me with them towards the sharp claws of angry spirits hell bent on murdering me. Life was great. Fenar literally flew past the line of ork rebels in front of us. He didn¡¯t have that blazing blue fire around him this time, but I could tell the Mana ¡ª at least 10MP¡¯s worth of it ¡ª was around him, carrying him up the slope, unlike Krissy and Kiwa, who used it to enhance their muscles and bones and were running the good old-fashioned way. It was somewhat like my Mana-Armour skill, at least in the sense that it was on the outside of his body, but instead of ¡ª or along with ¡ª protecting him, he was willing it to propel him forward. Somehow. I wondered if Krissy could learn that. Oh. Mana-Armour. That would be a good thing right about now. I activated the skill, and the protective shield flared into existence around Krissy just as Fenar whooshed past a flabbergasted Big Wroogh. A second later the two, masked women also ran past him, eliciting a barrage of obscenities from the big, green fellow. Fenar and Krissy¡¯s combined Mana use ticked up to about 16 MP per minute, so we were still good on that front. But now the problem was the twenty spiritualists, or more specifically the rapidly decreasing distance between them and us. Oh, hell, I wasn¡¯t ready for this. How was I supposed to prevent twenty of the bastards from cutting me to ribbons with their spirit-claws? Oh. Of course. How could I have forgot? I had my own soul-shield, two of them in fact, neatly tucked away in my Spirit Room. And I had my new Enzyme Pool. And I wasn¡¯t alone. Fifteen metres separated us from the enemy line now. The angry mob behind us was screaming bloody murder, probably outraged by us beating them to having the first go at Zotaagh Whatshisname and his gang, but also elated that something was finally happening. It seemed they didn¡¯t need any orders or encouragement ¡ª they began their charge, running up the hill as best as they could, following the Hellspawn into battle. What a sight. Ten metres. I got my soul-shield out of storage and fiddled it into position in front of me with three tentacles. I hoped the crude, hardened Essence-thing I had spent so much time making, was going to be worth the effort. Five metres and about a second separating us from crashing into the enemy, all of them readying their shields, weapons and their familiars¡¯ Mana, when the orks in their flanks screamed out in pain and surprise. Arrows. Dozens of arrows in quick succession hit the orks on both ends of their line. Finally, Fenar¡¯s rangers, still lurking in the shadows or wherever, had made their presence known, and the greenskinned fuckers hadn¡¯t seen them coming. Rangers were excellent shots ¡ª some arrows panged off steel, but many of them found the openings at joints or helmets, causing black blood to run everywhere. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t enough to kill any of them outright, but I didn¡¯t think that had been the goal. The moment came, and Fenar was the first to engage the enemy, none other than that Zotaagh fellow. The elf, carried forward by my Mana, swung his sword. The ork, also aided by his familiar¡¯s power, moved fast to block it with his enourmous battleaxe, batting it away. But that didn¡¯t stop Fenar; he spun around with that same motion, performing a roundhouse kick ¡ª very Chuck Norrisy of him¡ª his foot connecting with his breastplate. The ork flew back with a grunt, his six-armed familiar yelling out in surprise, landing in a backward roll and stopping in front of his men. All in a second. This was a good start, and I began to suspect the high ground wasn¡¯t that big a deal after all. And Fenar was on the move again. The second passed and we arrived, too. Thanks to the distraction the rangers had provided, instead of a line of twenty orks we had about eight of them to deal with. The rest were looking around for the unseen archers, bleeding and bellowing, while the arrows kept coming. Krissy drew more Mana to coat her blade and aimed at the nearest armoured ork. I maneuvered my free tentacles, aiming at his familiar. She brought her sword down, cutting into the guy¡¯s steel-plated shield. His familiar screeched something unintelligible as he clawed at my soul-shield with four arms. The half-spherical spiritual shield worked pretty much as intended ¡ªthe strikes of the spirit dented it, but it held. The ork, having deflected Krissy¡¯s strike, swung his one-handed hammer faster than he should have been capable of swinging such a heavy-looking thing, the metal head of the weapon sparkling with Mana. She ducked down, just about avoiding being hit in the head. I wrapped four of my tentacles around the four arms of the familiar, and I opened the floodgates of my Enzyme pool. The spirit screamed in pain along with his host as Krissy¡¯s second strike slashed into his leg under his shield, biting into flesh and bone as if his steel shinguard wasn¡¯t even there. On our right, Fenar was dealing with not just the Gutspiller and his giant axe, but two others as well, while on our right Kiwa was dancing around another two orks, keeping them busy. And behind us, the green horde of vengeance, led by Big Wroogh, was seconds away. Less than half a minute into the fight, my Mana-Pool was holding out fine, and I was ready to re-fill it from my Essence Pool whenever necessary. ¡®Stop! Stooooop! Heeelp!¡¯ the enemy spirit screamed as my concentrated spiritual digestive enzyme began to disintegrate his arms, and spreading onto his torso. Did I feel sorry for him? Not really. Kill or be killed, right? It must have been some sort of spirit-adrenalin in play here, because I suddenly felt none of the fear and apprehension I had a minute ago, only the need to fight and to win. So, I started slurping up my pre-digested, kicking-screaming meal. The now half-eaten spirit¡¯s host roared with anger, trying to get a hit on Krissy, but she was nimble, using my Mana effectively, dodging, counterattacking and wearing down the ork who had suddenly found himself with little to no spiritual power. Krissy dealt the final blow before the first minute of the battle was over; she managed to get behind the ork, and she plunged her blade into the back of his neck between the base of his helmet and the weird neck-guard of the armour piece covering his torso. That was a very precise strike, well timed to coincide with the metaphorical last breath of the poor, invisible sod, and his subsequent transformation into delicious EXP. And I gobbled up the ork¡¯s soul too, while I was at it. ¡®Great job, Krissy, good teamwork!¡¯ I yelled with excitement. ¡®Huh? What? Teamwork? Who¡¯s next?¡¯ Krissy panted, gasping for air, but the corners of her mouth were curling upward under her mask while looking around for her next victim. I was about to take a better look at the chaos around us as well and look for the next meal ¡­ uhm ¡­ enemy to confront, when 25 MP left my Mana-pool all at once, throwing me off balance completely. The next thing I knew was a booming explosion on our right side, an intense blue flash of Mana almost blinding my spiritual sight. ¡®Master Fenar, what the fuck?¡¯ I screamed angrily at the grinning elf, standing against a backdrop of blood and minced ork raining down. One thing was sure, that Zotaagh fellow¡¯s gutspilling carrier was over. Fenar turned to face Krissy, who was as shocked by this turn of events as I was, then he said, ¡®Huh, I did miss doing this after all. And don¡¯t call me Fenar!¡¯ Chapter One hundred and nine Chapter One hundred and nine That was a Mana-Blast, wasn¡¯t it? How in the hell? That was my thing! Or so I had thought. I was gawking at Fenar, who was still grinning like a kid after setting off some illegal fireworks in his grandma¡¯s backyard, and at the three familiars scrambling to get their Black Essence cubes out from whatever storage they had for it. The spirits didn¡¯t look all that unhappy, although they were keeping an eye on me while consuming their hosts¡¯ souls with haste, especially the one with six arms. While they were disappearing back to the spirit world, Krissy was still catching her breath after her intense bout with the enemy, but looked fine otherwise, so I let her rest a bit. I felt Hank¡¯s internal, wordless grumblings bubbling to the surface ¡ª he was probably angry I hadn¡¯t gone after the three recently unemployed familiars. Big Wroogh and his rebel horde finally arrived a few seconds later, hundreds of orks rushing up the hill screaming and swearing ¡ª no doubt encouraged by the Hellspawn and his two masked companions ¡ª and did their best to overwhelm the remaining fourteen, armed spiritualists. I supposed we had made it look easy; between Krissy and Kiwa having managed one and two enemy fighters respectively, and Fenar completely obliterating three of them using a huge chunk of my Mana, it must have given them the impression that Skraath Ironbite¡¯s lackeys were easy pickings. In reality, they were anything but. These guys were spiritualists, therefore much, much tougher than the ones we had faced back in town. They quickly recovered and re-formed their line ¡ª or more like a half-circle ¡ª their bodies and weapons gleaming with their familiars¡¯ Mana. This was where their overconfidence betrayed Big Wroogh and his followers, and this was where the spiritualists showed the populace why they were in charge. It was hard to watch; orks, young and old, men and women, threw themselves against the shields, spears and axes of the armoured beasts, hoping their numbers would do the same trick as it had done back in the town square. The enemy chopped them to pieces with Mana-induced speed and strength. The only upside was that at the same time they were slowly moving back towards the open gate of the fort. After a minute, Big Wroogh ¡ª whose head was bleeding on account of losing an ear to the enemy ¡ª bellowed into the night, ordering his people to break off and retreat as well. He had probably arrived at the point where he wasn¡¯t willing to sacrifice more of his people without any results to show for it. That call for retreat seemed to energize the armoured spiritualists. They hadn¡¯t lost a single one of their numbers to Big Wroogh¡¯s forces, so they stopped their slow but orderly retreat. Damn, and they were only like ten metres from the fort ¡ª they should have just run back, shut the gate behind them and give us a break. But no. I was sure they were thinking of counterattacking and chasing the rebels down the hill to finish them off, and frankly, from what I¡¯d just seen, they would have been likely capable of doing that, even without that Zotaagh Miniboss Gutspiller fellow. The one thing ¡ª or rather one person ¡ª that stopped the enemy from doing so, was none other than Master Fenar. The man simply vanished from next to us, blasted up the hill through the retreating rebels like a rocket, and was in front of the enemy line in two seconds. Another 15 MP left my pool, just when I was making some progress refilling lost Mana and Essence, and the Master of Third Rangers once again erupted with blue fire made of my power. What a showoff. Regardless of how I felt about him using my Mana, I couldn¡¯t argue that the result was good. The enemy spiritualists, just when they had taken their first step forward again, found themselves face to face with the blazing blue inferno of the Hellspawn himself, the legendary villain of orkish folklore who had slain their greatest hero once upon a time, returning to challenge the current boss of the Clan and to take his soul to Hell. On top of that, a Tentacle Horror was involved, so that had spooked the familiars, if nothing else. Well, at least that¡¯s what I imagined were going through their heads as their counterattack came to a screeching halt before it had even begun. Seeing Fenar¡¯s firey stunt, the enemy decided that retreat actually might be the better option here, and backed away from him until they were inside the fort, shutting the gate behind them. Big Wroogh¡¯s bunch got a much needed reprieve, and the hundreds of orks, who¡¯d finally had their first Hellspawn experience, were all gawking at the man, silently for a change. The aftermath wasn¡¯t pretty; the route the fourteen spiritualists had taken to retreat was decorated with at least seventy dead orks and another twenty or so wounded, very much in the process of dying ¡ª orks didn¡¯t seem to put much stock in medics or even first aid kits, so I was sure their fates were sealed. Oh well. I didn¡¯t see any slaves among the fallen this time ¡ª they hadn¡¯t been as fast as their greenskinned masters in charging up the hill, so that was a good thing. Probably. All that was left for me to do, was to stretch myself out, and start eating the mushroom-flavoured souls that were within reach ¡ª fifteen of them for me, and one for Tilry. Hank, the little shit, was still skimming my EXP income, so I didn¡¯t bother Krissy to move closer and left most of the souls on the field go to waste, just out of spite for him. Fenar let go of my Mana-Pool for now, letting his personal coat of flames die down, but he stayed standing between our rag-tag forces and the fort, looking at the gate, probably studying it or maybe considering storming the place all by himself after all. You could never know with this guy. ¡®The Hellspawn in all his glory,¡¯ Kiwa whispered, ogling Fenar blatantly. ¡®He¡¯s looking more and more like his statue in Fayral. A true hero.¡¯ ¡®Stop fangirling,¡¯ I said to her. ¡®I¡¯m not ¡­ wait! What¡¯s fangirling?¡¯ ¡®Nevermind! Do you think you and Krissy could learn to use Mana like he does?¡¯ I asked. I had no doubt his techniques would benefit my host immensely in terms of combat ability, but what I was really hoping to solve was the more immediate problem of spent Mana accumulating in her body. Most of it had cleared out from her system over the past two days, but this fight had added some more to it already. It didn¡¯t look like it was enough to cause her pain again, yet, but a solution was needed. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t teach her how to use Mana like Fenar ¡ª I just provided the stuff, and the way I used it worked somewhat differently than the way a physical being used it. I hoped we¡¯d get a chance to receive a few lessons from the man before the elves wrapped up this expedition and left. Krissy looked up, suddenly interested in the conversation. ¡®Do you think he¡¯d teach us if we asked?¡¯ she said. ¡®He would, right? There¡¯s no reason he wouldn¡¯t, right?¡¯ I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a rhetorical question, but the elf women answered her. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡®He seems to like you, boss, he taught you swordsmanship already, and he let you train with his rangers.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s true,¡¯ Krissy said, nodding her head thoughtfully. ¡®I think he¡¯ll do it.¡¯ ¡®Hm. Joy and Misery, The Hellspawn¡¯s Apprentices. Sounds good, actually. I like it,¡¯ Kiwa mused, grinning under her mask, no doubt blinded by a romanticised image of Fenirig Arte. ¡®And only a fort full of Sivera¡¯s spiritualists separate us from your next training course.¡¯ I reminded them that this battle wasn¡¯t over yet, even though I was the one who¡¯d brought the subject up. The two women tore their gazes away from Fenar¡¯s heroic, and in my opinion overrated visage and turned their attentions to the fort. Krissy inhaled sharply, then sighed, shaking her head. *** Big Wroogh and his rebel army were quickly recovering, evidenced by the loud and rude arguments and few fistfights breaking out all over their ranks. Had they been anything else but orks, I would have considered it a sign of low morale, but for the green barbarians this was the norm. From my vantage point, slightly higher up on the hill than most of them, I could see reinforcements trickling up from town, replacing the casualties of the two engagements. They had lost about two hundred people already ¡ª most of them dead, some injured ¡ª and I wondered if there was a point at which orks would lose their taste for violence. I quickly came to the conclusion that as long as there was a chance of winning ¡ª and the Hellspawn represented that chance for them ¡ª they¡¯d fight to the last man, woman and child. That¡¯s how orks were, that¡¯s what I was seeing. Big Wroogh, completely ignoring the bleeding stump where one of his ears had been not long ago, gathered his main henchmen around and addressed them. ¡®Listen up ya weaklings, we went givin¡¯ ¡®em fuggen ganks a damned good thrashin¡¯. Dat pissdrinkin¡¯ Zotaagh Gutspiller went spillin¡¯ his own guts all over, so da gank ain¡¯t gon be givin¡¯ us problems, and I¡¯m thinkin¡¯ I shoulda brought da Hellspawn ¡®ere ages ago,¡¯ he shouted so those at the back could hear him too, then he pointed at the fort. ¡®Now da big fugger, Skraath Ironbite¡¯s hidin¡¯ in there. I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ya, he¡¯s shakin¡¯ cos he¡¯s seein¡¯ his own end already, he¡¯s seein¡¯ I went cuttin¡¯ a deal with the Hellspawn, and he¡¯s seein¡¯ he¡¯s gon be like dat old-timey overboss. Dead.¡¯ The crowd cheered, fists in the air, all fired up for the next round. ¡®Gank knows how to spin a story, huh?¡¯ I commented. He had really made this whole kerfuffle ¡ª including our presence here ¡ª his own thing. Gank¡¯s a politician alright. Krissy agreed, shaking her head. I heard my father making similar speeches back in the day. More eloquent of course. Much more eloquent. ¡®Gank¡¯s a shitheaded liar and a fuggen crook,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh joined in, coming up behind Krissy and Kiwa to stand next to us. He had managed to survive unscathed once again, just like back in the town square, although this time he was covered in blood that wasn¡¯t his. I hadn¡¯t been paying attention to him, but it seemed he had participated. On that note, I quickly looked around to see if the teenage squad and Trevor were still around. They were still with us, hanging on every word coming out of Big Wroogh¡¯s big toothy mouth. ¡®Gank managed to get the people together, didn¡¯t he?¡¯ I said to him. ¡®That¡¯s something, right?¡¯ ¡®Yah, gank went doin¡¯ that,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh admitted. ¡®But gank¡¯s needin¡¯ some time in Hell, I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ya.¡¯ ¡®Yeah? And why are you telling me?¡¯ I asked, grinning on the inside. It sure sounded like he was hoping I¡¯d give Big Wroogh the same sightseeing tour of my Spirit Room as I had given him. ¡®Cos he¡¯s gon go winnin¡¯ this thing, then he¡¯s gon be clan boss, then there¡¯ll be ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ he won¡¯t go takin¡¯ from the rest of us,¡¯ he stated with an orkish sigh that sounded like a bear growling. ¡®Yeah? What¡¯s he going to take? Food? Slaves? Or money? Do you guys even use money here?¡¯ I inquired, quite curious. ¡®Women,¡¯ the ork lamented. ¡®Gank¡¯s gon go takin¡¯ any woman he wants. And I ain¡¯t gon be givin¡¯ ¡®im my women, not once.¡¯ ¡®Women? How many women have you got?¡¯ ¡®Got me two. Then Skraath Ironbite went sendin¡¯ that idiot Orkuz Graal raidin¡¯, gank went disappearing ship and all, so I took his two gals.¡¯ ¡®Uhm ¡­ touching story,¡¯ I said, amazed at his reasons for wanting Big Wroogh in Hell. ¡®Oi, I¡¯m takin¡¯ real good care of ¡®em, ya hear?¡¯ ¡®Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m sure you are.¡¯ Well, as far as motivations were concerned, I supposed it was a valid one. The war of Troy was fought over a woman, so why not this? I noticed some Mana going out of my pool. It wasn¡¯t a lot, but it was continuous, an MP and a half per minute maybe, heading to Master Fenar. The man was still doing his staring contest with the fort¡¯s gate ¡ª and probably winning ¡ª but other than that he didn¡¯t seem to be doing much. What he needed the Mana for I had no idea; he wasn¡¯t on fire, the amount he was drawing wasn¡¯t enough for a Mana-Blast, he wasn¡¯t even moving at all. He was just standing there, staring. But no, he was doing something. ¡®Krissy, could you please go a little closer to Master Fenirig Arte?¡¯ I asked my host ¡®How close?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Just a few paces. I want to be in tentacle range of him.¡¯ ¡®Why?¡¯ she asked, then quickly changed her mind. ¡®Nevermind, I don¡¯t want to know.¡¯ Once she walked a few meters, and I had a couple of my tenties almost touching the elf, I got a sense of the ongoings. Master Fenar was using my Mana in a strange way. For the lack of a better word, it felt to me as if he was vapourising the stuff, or turning it into a thin mist, then fanning it towards the fort, through the wall, the gate and beyond. Why or how he was doing it, I had no clue. Then the weirdest, scariest thing happened. The tip of one of my tenties touched the Mana-Mist, and Fenar instantly snapped his head to look at the exact spot where my tentie was. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ I yelled out in surprise. You fucking shitspirit, are you trying to sneak up on me? He demanded, not taking his eyes off the spot. ¡®Yes, I am,¡¯ I declared, drawing on all the bravery in me. ¡®I wanted to see what you were doing and how. It¡¯s my Mana, I do what I want. So, how are you doing this Mana-Mist thing?¡¯ Oh? Done being a pushover, then? ¡®Definitely.¡¯ Hm. Alright. He said, suddenly calm again. Mana-mist, huh? Is that how you see this? ¡®Well, I don¡¯t actually see it, but I can sense it. You¡¯re sending it into the fort, and ¡­ wait ¡­¡¯ He was still looking at my tentacle. I was sure he couldn¡¯t see it, how could he? I was invisible to the eyes of material creatures. But he knew. He fucking knew. Is that what the Mist was for? To somehow give him awareness of what was going on around him in the unseen realm? My mind was spinning. That must have been it: a spiritual sonar or bat-like echolocation system or something similar. It made sense. The Mana-Mist would permeate an area, it would come into contact with familiars as well as the souls of the living, causing some sort of ripples or other feedback that could travel right back to Fenar, and he would be able to sense it and interpret it. That was it. That must have been it. Mana serving as the signal and the medium through which it would move. Are you starting to figure it out? He asked. ¡®Yeah, I think,¡¯ I said to him, amazed and furious at the same time that he could do something like this, and I couldn¡¯t. His firey trick was neat, but with a little imagination I probably could have come up with it. This? This wouldn¡¯t have occurred to me in my dreams. Damn, I was jealous. ¡®Can you see what¡¯s going on in the fort?¡¯ I can tell how many people and familiars are in there and where. Roughly. ¡®Can they detect that they¡¯re being ¡­ detected?¡¯ Not in my experience. You could because it¡¯s your power. Or Mana. Or whatever stupid name you want to call it. ¡®Damn right it¡¯s my Mana, I call it what I want,¡¯ I snapped at him, just because I could. Right. Anything else, or can I get back to it? ¡®Just one thing: teach Krissy and me how to do this! And that Mana-Fire thing. And how to move with Mana like you do.¡¯ Aren¡¯t we a little greedy here? And you forgot to say please. ¡®Please, please, please, we¡¯ve got to learn this!¡¯ I pleaded, not just because he had a point about manners, but because he knew a lot about Mana I didn¡¯t, and I couldn¡¯t miss this opportunity. He grinned at my tentacle hovering next to his head and said, Pushover. Damn! I had walked into that one, hadn¡¯t I? Chapter One hundred and ten Chapter One hundred and ten Big Wroogh¡¯s motivational speech had devolved into basic shit-talking the enemy and their familiars, until he was finally satisfied with his people¡¯s morale and readiness to give this whole fighting-spiritualists-thing another go. Then he trudged over to Master Fenar, hopping over his fallen comrades as if they were nothing but annoying bumps on the ground. How cold. The elf was just about finished surveying the inside of the fort with his Mana-Mist skill ¡ª one I was looking forward to learning or to help Krissy learn ¡ª but he didn¡¯t let go of my pool. He drew some extra Mana as he turned around to face the big guy, probably ready to pound him into the ground if he tried anything, but I figured no-one here would be that stupid. During our time in Solace, I had heard vague stories and legends of how Fenar was the epitome of all elven warriors, spiritualist or otherwise, how he had slain countless enemies of Fayr-Sitan, then of Solace, and how he had even slain spirits and gods. To be honest, I was sceptical about some of those stories, and while I was always a bit wary of him, I had never really believed he could pose a threat to me. That had changed drastically over the past few minutes. His mastery of Mana was shocking, and I was sure what I¡¯d seen was barely scratching the surface. I should have been more scared of him than before, but strangely enough, despite his insane display of skill and lethality, I wasn¡¯t. I supposed I¡¯d got to know him well enough to know that the aggressively rude man had a reasonably good heart, and a soft spot for Krissy and me. Or maybe just for Krissy, but we were a package deal, so I considered myself included. He certainly did not have a soft spot for Big Wroogh though. What do you want, you oversized toad? He sent the thought to him with an undertone of disgust. ¡®Oi, Hellspawn! We¡¯re ready to go pummelin¡¯ ¡®em fuggers. Dat gate ain¡¯t gon be openin¡¯ though, ya got some more ¡®o dat shitfire to go burnin¡¯ it down?¡¯ Eager to die for nothing, huh? Fenar scoffed. Fifty of them in there, including the fourteen mystics. And another. A big one with a big familiar. ¡®Skraath Ironbite.¡¯ Big Wroogh spat as he spoke the name. ¡®Gank¡¯s always in his fuggen fort, ain¡¯t seen ¡®im in ages.¡¯ Can you and your bunch of fucks beat him? Fenar demanded, looking as serious as a heart attack. The ork opened his mouth, looking rather angry, then caught his words before they could come out. Then, after two seconds of hesitation, he slouched forward a bit and said, ¡®No.¡¯ That was the quietest I¡¯d ever heard an ork say anything. Thought so. Fenar nodded, looking happy for some reason. In other words, you need me and my two disciples, Joy and Misery, to do the work. Am I wrong? ¡®No.¡¯ The even quieter reply came from the ork. I wasn¡¯t sure whether it was admitting his own, relative weakness, or having to rely on us to fight the spiritualists that bothered the guy more. Either way, it looked like sitting this fort-business out wasn¡¯t in the cards for us. Thought so. Fenar nodded again, then sighed out loud. Ah, I can hardly believe you are that Gralnohr fellow¡¯s descendants. Very well, we shall do something about that pile of shit you¡¯re mistaking for a fort. Krissy and Kiwa could hear everything through the voice-chat, despite standing a good ten or so metres from them, and their reactions were pretty close to what I had expected. ¡®Oh, did you hear that, boss? We¡¯re the Hellspawn¡¯s disciples! For real. And we¡¯re going to attack the fort,¡¯ the self-appointed bodyguard cheered for this development, hardly able to contain her excitement. ¡®I just want to go and sit in a tea-house with Deni and drink Earl Grey. Seriously, that¡¯s all I want,¡¯ Krissy grumbled like a disgruntled office worker who had been denied a lunch break. ¡®Gank¡¯s gon go dyin¡¯,¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh shared his assessment of the situation with us. I didn¡¯t know which gank he meant though, there were plenty of those around. *** The big one they call Ironbite has a huge familiar with a lot of power. Fenar started his briefing once Big Wroogh had gone back to get his people ready for the assault. He¡¯s out and about, setting up barricades and arranging his troops behind the gate. He knows what¡¯s coming, and he knows what to do about it. Damn, I hate barbarians who can use their brains. I looked at the fort. We were about forty metres from the gate, and in the dark, I could just about make out the sentries on the walls, all of them either elven or human slaves, judging by their shapes and sizes. Fenar hadn¡¯t included them in the headcount he had given Big Wroogh, but with them we were facing at least seventy enemy combatants. If none of them had been spiritualists, this would have been a walk in the park ¡ª I could have just possessed one of them, then work my way through the place and eat everyone while Krissy and the others waited outside in safety. Instead, we had fourteen spiritualists waiting for us in there, and Fenar¡¯s description of Skraath Ironbite and his familiar had me worried. What did he mean by ¡°huge familiar¡± and a ¡°lot of power¡±? Unfortunately, he had the answers. He¡¯s the problem, the rest is chaff. He stated. My familiar back in the day was leagues above others in terms of the power he could provide, just like the one in there. But that¡¯s not what worries me. The real question is whether the green bastard has enough skill and experience using all that power. If not, then we¡¯ll be just fine. But if that piece of shit knows the feats and tricks, we may be in for a tough one. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Krissy and Kiwa were furrowing their brows under their masks, digesting everything the scarfaced elf had just said. Even Raagstrom Raagh looked concerned, grunting something that no-one understood. For some reason the ork captain had stayed with us as opposed to go and help his best buddy and potential wife-stealer Big Wroogh. I didn¡¯t really have a problem with this ¡ª the big guy had been noticeably better behaved since his brief stint in Hell, so as far as orks went, he was alright. What wasn¡¯t alright was the fact that this was the first time I had ever heard Master Fenar dropping his casually dismissive attitude and saying ¡°we may be in for a tough one¡±. That didn¡¯t bode well, did it? If he¡¯s any good as a spiritualist, we can expect all the basics: a fast and strong opponent who can produce spirit weapons, such as flying blades. On top of that he may be able to do blastwaves like the one I did. He may be able to turn his familiar¡¯s power into tangible and deadly weapons, like swords or spears, and use them. Those will cut through anything like a hot knife through butter. Fenar listed off the things he was expecting this Skraath Ironbite fellow to do, no doubt based on his own experience and abilities. It was frightening. Mana-Blast was an expensive skill, so were the small, flying Mana-Blades. But to turn the stuff into a tangible weapon that would last? Yet another thing I hadn¡¯t even considered, but now that he had brought it up, and knowing how Mana was kind of both spiritual and physical at the same time, I was sure it was doable. But the cost would be enormous, wouldn¡¯t it? Just how much Mana would I need to compress into a simple shape like a knife, and turn it into a real thing? 100 MP? 200? More? And what would that even look like? A light-sabre, perhaps? And there was the question of how. Damn, I had no idea. I want to keep my rangers out of this. This isn¡¯t the sort of fight they¡¯re trained or equipped for. Fenar said, glancing over his shoulder, probably looking at his guys, hiding in the darkness at some distance from us and the ork army. Then he looked at Krissy and then Kiwa. This is a job for spiritualists, and you two are the ones I got. I could have interpreted his choice of words as dissatisfaction with the currently available personnel, but he had a small smile on his face, his eyes shining with approval. He did have some confidence in us, it seemed. That was good, because I had some big question marks hovering above my role as a mobile Mana-battery, having to provide for not one but two people. Would I be able to keep the supply up long enough? I could only hope. ¡®Wha¡¯bout me?¡¯ Raagstrom Raagh inquired all of a sudden. Was he feeling left out, or something? What about you, you pissbucket? Are you a spiritualist? Fenar snapped at him. On second thought, maybe we¡¯ll send you in first, just to see what they¡¯d do. ¡®Hold on, Master Fenirig Arte, we can use him,¡¯ I said. I couldn¡¯t believe myself, coming to the defense of the ork. How? I looked over to the ork camp; hundreds upon hundreds of the greenskinned brutes filling the sloping field, maybe even a thousand now, armed with everything and anything they could grab ranging from simple, burning torches to tools and actual weapons, ready and eager to barge into the fort and ¡­ well, die. They didn¡¯t really have a chance on their own, not against spiritualists holed up in a fort. But they would go ahead and join the assault anyway, because the Hellspawn was here, and that¡¯s all they needed. A chance. I wasn¡¯t a strategist or a tactical expert, far from it, but even I could see that the ork horde would be useless at best, and actively get in our way at worst. ¡®Reggie, are there people in that crowd you know and trust?¡¯ I addressed the ork. ¡®Seen some,¡¯ he said. ¡®Dragtaar Gaarn and his ganks are there. Ain¡¯t the brightest lot, but ain¡¯t weaklings. Seen some others too.¡¯ And what do you propose we do with them? Master Fenar asked, not entirely dismissive, but definitely not hopeful either. ¡®I don¡¯t know what your plan is, but they can help with enemy slaves and non-spiritualists. I imagine Big Wroogh¡¯s people will get in our way at some point, so they can keep them away from us too, or do the opposite if we need them.¡¯ Hm. Look at that. Even pushovers come up with half-decent ideas sometimes. ¡®Listen, Master Fenar, I¡¯m gonna ¡­¡¯ I snapped at him. Or tried to. You¡¯re gonna obey orders, otherwise we¡¯ll all die. And don¡¯t call me Fenar. He cut me short, glaring at the exact spot my spherical body was, just behind Krissy ¡ª it was rather unnerving. ¡®Yes, sir,¡¯ I said quietly. Better. But for all the double-blessed fucks in the world, you talk way too much for a familiar. ¡®Sorry for trying to help,¡¯ I whispered with all the indignation of the unappreciated. Don¡¯t be sorry. He said, not missing a beat. I appreciate your efforts. Good spirit. Clever spirit. He cooed as if he was talking to a puppy finally performing his first trick. Oh, the condescending bastard! Before I could retort ¡ª and I had some unsavory words for him stockpiled ¡ª he changed the subject back to the matter at hand, turning his attention to Raagstrom Raagh. Alright, you go and gather your dumb friends and bring them here! Get shields and proper weapons if you can! The ork nodded with a grunt and ran off towards Big Wroogh¡¯s crowd to bring us the best and brightest of them. I hoped to hell they would be at least a little bit useful, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t hear the end of it from Master Fenar. So, what¡¯s the plan? Can we really handle that Skraath fellow? Krissy asked, finally joining in our planning session, using the voice-chat like Fenar had been this whole time. We¡¯re the Hellspawn¡¯s Disciples, boss, of course we can. Kiwa stated with absolute confidence. If you asked me, her confidence was on shaky ground, but it was good to see at least one of us believed in us completely. Fenar sighed, probably having second thoughts about this whole disciple-business, but he quickly put it behind him and asked, So, Kevin, how much power can you provide for Misery and me and for how long? Oh boy, this was going to be a long one. I took a deep, mental breath, and I began to explain to him how my Mana and Essence pools worked, the system of MP and EP I had come up with, and rough estimates of what different Mana-aided actions would cost. He listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions, and he was particularly interested in hearing details of my ability to eat souls and other spirits, and the speed with which I could do it. By the time Raagstrom Raagh returned with his friends in about half an hour, he had all the information he wanted. The former ork captain had brought twenty people with him, the only impressive thing about the group the fact that each of them were larger than him. Beyond that, they were a sorry collection of green giants, sharing seven wooden shields between them, a few spears and maces, and a lot of what looked like makeshift clubs made of furniture parts. Well, better than nothing. Now that everyone and everything was together, Master Fenar deemed it the time to share his plan with us. He started the process by saying, Right, first of all, we¡¯ll need to create a diversion. He turned around to face the green horde on the slope. I suppose a thousand stupid barbarians and one shining example of a Hellspawn will do nicely. Chapter One hundred and eleven Chapter One hundred and eleven Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain followed the ork captain and his gang of giant, green friends down the hill, Kiwa jogging right next to her. Her self-appointed body-guard¡¯s laughing mask muffled the cheerful tune she was humming, but not enough. Why are you so happy? We¡¯re all going to die. This is a stupid plan! She wailed to her over the voice-chat. What are you talking about, boss? It¡¯s a brilliant plan. By the Hellspawn himself. Kitala Iwani sang her reply, matching it to the tune she was humming ¡ª it was weird to hear it both with her ears and through the voice-chat. We should be fine. Kevin attempted to reassure her, although the spirit didn¡¯t sound convinced himself. The main baddies will be focused on the gate and Fenar and the ork army. You just make sure you don¡¯t draw more Mana than you can use. What are you talking about? Won¡¯t be much left once Fenar does his thing. And that¡¯s one of the things that worries me. What am I supposed to do if the back of the place is guarded? She moaned. Kiwa and Reggie¡¯s guys can handle it. I¡¯ll eat anything and anyone that gets through them. It¡¯s a good plan. Maybe it was a good plan overall ¡ª everyone seemed to think so ¡ª but it certainly wasn¡¯t taking her safety and survival into any consideration, which was something she cared about deeply. She hadn¡¯t got this far just to die at the hands of green barbarians in the middle of their stupid civil-war. She had escaped the aftermath of one of those already, and never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she¡¯d end up in the middle of another one. Granted, she had agreed to help Fenar and his rangers in their mission to get their people back, but getting involved in an orkish uprising? Wasn¡¯t that going a bit too far? She understood the reason for it, she even agreed that it would serve the interests of the elves in the long run, and Solace would be much safer with the Vraathkill Clan under a new leadership. But Master Fenar willing to sacrifice her and Kiwa to achieve that? That didn¡¯t sit well with her, and the fact that the man was putting himself in as much if not more danger, didn¡¯t make her feel any better. She made up her mind that if they all lived after this, she wouldn¡¯t let the scarfaced elf leave without teaching her everything he knew about Mana. She was now his disciple after all, wasn¡¯t she? They were almost back at the city, and she could see hundreds of torchlights moving about the streets. It seemed the entire population was up now, even this late at night ¡ª or this early in the morning ¡ª probably rounding up the clan boss¡¯ henchmen in the city, or just waiting to see the results of Big Wroogh¡¯s push to end Skraath Ironbite¡¯s rule and to install himself as clan boss. Raagstrom Raagh and his gang took a sharp turn before reaching the first of the houses, leading them away from the city towards a lightly forested area around the hill. The orks seemed to know what path to tread, jogging comfortably between the trees, going around the hill to approach the fort from the back. Krissintha was thankful that the rain had stopped, and the clouds were letting at least a little of the moonlight through, making it easier for her to keep pace without having to rely on Mana or on Kiwa to lead her. ¡®Almost there, ya ganks,¡¯ the biggest one of Raagstrom Raagh¡¯s buddies declared, the only one Kevin had put on the voice-chat. Dragtaar Gaarn, if she remembered the orkish name correctly. The ork then glanced at her and Kiwa, then said, ¡®Ya skinny fuggers sure yer gon be gettin¡¯ us through dat wall? Ain¡¯t thin dat wall, ya know.¡¯ ¡®We ain¡¯t weaklings like ya ganks,¡¯ Krissintha growled her answer in orkish, speaking the old-fashioned way instead of using the voice chat, sneering at him underneath her mask. She could say a lot of things about the large, green, barbarian creatures, but their language was fun. A little harsh on the throat, but fun. She had spent so much time listening to ork-talk, that she was confident she could at the very least insult them without issues. Dragtaar Gaarn looked at Raagstrom Raagh, who nodded with a grunt ¡ª if not an approval at least an acknowledgment ¡ª and that seemed to be enough for the beastly fellow to resume jogging without any further questions, and focus on leading the group to their designated spot behind the fort. Your orkish is pretty good, you sounded like you¡¯re in a death metal band. Arch Enemy, maybe. Her familiar commented, almost cheerfully. I don¡¯t know what that is. Was it a compliment? She said, rolling her eyes. He thinks it was. Hank joined in out of nowhere. The Agonist would have been a better one. First of all, same singer. Second of all, shut up, because you¡¯ve never listened to either of them. Kevin argued about whatever the ominous sounding things were. Arch Enemy? Agonist? Those couldn¡¯t possibly be good things. True, but I remember them like you do, so you shut up! Hank wasn¡¯t taking it lying down, it seemed, and so her input was necessary, unless she¡¯d be willing to put up with the two of them bickering indefinitely. Which she wasn¡¯t. Stop it, both of you! Krissintha hushed the pair of spirit-brothers. Worry about our Mana supply instead. We¡¯ll have barely any left for fighting once Fenar breaks the gate down and we break the wall. Worry about that instead! Or do you think the big bad familiar in there won¡¯t go after the Tentacle Horror the moment it sees it? And worry about the fact that I happen to be right in front of the Tentacle Horror at all times. The spirits went silent, no response to her scolding. Typical. Was this what it felt like to be the mother of a pair of antagonistic twins, she wondered. Maybe, but why did she have to be in this position? You two should know better. Especially you, Kevin. You said you¡¯re a grown man, or used to be, so act like one. Hank started to let out the beginnings of a laugh, but she didn¡¯t let him. And you, Hank, stop nitpicking. You need to sort your relationship out with your brother. At your earliest convenience. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Stepbrother at best. Kevin interjected. Sorry Krissy, I fully intend to sort it out. Sooner than later. Hank said, his voice serious for a change. Good. She acknowledged the statement. Good indeed. Hank said. Krissintha left it at that, because their orkish guides slowed down and started exchanging hand signals instead of the loud and insult-rich way of talking to each other. She couldn¡¯t see it from among the trees, but it seemed they had arrived or were at least close. Raagstrom Raagh and Dragtaar Gaarn tiptoed to the edge of the woods ¡ª two giant creatures trying and failing to be quiet was a weirdly comical sight ¡ª and everyone followed them. She peered out from behind one of the last trees at the edge, looking up the hill, and she could see the dark silhouette of the fort under the faint moonlight. That¡¯s about a hundred metres up. Kevin said. I can see a couple of sentries on the wall. I see them too. Kiwa confirmed. Krissintha sighed with resignation; there was no getting out of this, so they might as well get it over with, and hopefully stay alive. Master Fenirig Arte, we¡¯re in position, two sentries on the wall on our end. You may begin. She informed the Master of Third Rangers doubling as a prominent figure in orkish folk legends. We¡¯re marching already, so be ready for the boom! The reply came, not a small amount of glee in the elf¡¯s voice. Krissintha wasn¡¯t surprised; she¡¯d only known the man for little over a year, but she knew the two things that really motivated him were anything related to training and fighting, or finding ways to stay on his wife¡¯s good side while focusing on anything related to training and fighting. Oh, Korolan Mirei! How was she able to put up with a literal living legend even after hundreds of years of marriage? The sounds of the march coming from the other side of the fort and the hill were getting louder; she could just picture the thousand-strong horde of giant brutes trudging after the skinny Hellspawn, shaking their fists and clubs and whatever else they had for weapons. This wasn¡¯t going to end well for quite a few of them. ¡°Better them than us,¡¯ she muttered. Damn right! Kevin agreed, then added: You¡¯re talking about the orks, right? ¡®Yeah.¡¯ Oh, here it comes, the bastard¡¯s taking a lot of Mana! The spirit screeched, half angry half excited. Then the ¡°boom¡± came crashing down on the gate at the other end of the fort, a bright blue flash of power illuminating the night, outshining the pale moon above the thinning clouds for a short moment. The sounds of rocks, wood and other debris falling and hitting the ground nearly drowned out by the cheering of the ork army. Right, the sentries just left the wall, safe to go! Kevin announced, then Kiwa confirmed it. It was time, now or never. Krissintha drew just a little bit of Mana from her familiar to aid her, then broke into a sprint. She didn¡¯t have to look back to know that her self-proclaimed bodyguard was right on her heels, and Raagstrom Raagh and his gang¡¯s footsteps were loud enough to wake the dead, probably, or to alert the occupants of the fort. Luckily neither happened, and in half a minute they reached the wall without evidence of anyone noticing them. Alright, thick wall. Kevin commented. 30 MP should do the trick. Krissintha noticed a momentary blue shimmer in front of her; Kevin¡¯s Mana-Armour that had saved her life on more than one occasions. She stepped back from the wall, waving to the others to do the same. Am I far enough? She asked. A few more steps ¡­ yes, that¡¯s it. Kevin said. Ready? About ten paces from the thick, wood and stone wall, Krissintha listened to the clamoring coming from the other side. The clanging of steel on steel, the screaming and growling, and the occasional wet, tearing sounds were a spine-chilling invitation to join the violence, one she wasn¡¯t keen to accept. But what choice did she have, standing here and now? ¡®Ready,¡¯ she whispered. *** Standing face to face with a spirit¡¯s power pouring out to obliterate a wall, so close she could feel the freezing cold wind of it getting through her familiar¡¯s protection, was an experience both fascinating and petrifying. Krissintha had seen the aftermath of the kind of destruction Mana could do: a hole blown into the side of a certain galley, bodies torn apart and scattered, or a red mist that used to be three ork spiritualists. This time there had been a wall in front of her, and now there wasn¡¯t. Go go go go go! Kevin yelled. Chaaarge! The orks moved first, rushing through the breach and into the settling dust and dirt, slaloming around the broken stones and splintered wooden posts littering the ground inside. Krissintha followed them, or rather the sound of their weird war-cries; if breaching the wall hadn¡¯t got the enemy¡¯s attention, then Raagstrom Raagh and his fellow orks¡¯ noisy charge certainly would. She hoped they wouldn¡¯t forget their purpose of being here, to keep the non-spiritualist riff-raff off their backs. Right. I re-filled my Mana-pool again, from my secondary EP pool, but Fenar¡¯s already using it again. Kevin reported. I can keep Mana-Armour going for some time, you can use about 2 or 3 MP per minute, too, but I can¡¯t do another blast, not for the next ten minutes. Krissintha just nodded as she jogged right after Kitala Iwani. She could see a couple of buildings ahead, dark and massive, and behind them would be the battle. She still wasn¡¯t sure how Kevin¡¯s whole EP and MP nonsense worked, but she was happy to hear her familiar was able to keep shielding her from enemy attacks ¡ª judging by the increasing volume of shrieking, screaming and bellowing, she¡¯d need it. No no no no no, goddammit Fenar, no! Kevin yelled into the voice-chat in a panic. Before she could even comprehend that this was a bad sign, the ground shook as thunder filled the air, and a familiar blue flash lit up the dust cloud shooting up behind the buildings. Krissintha screeched to a halt, so did Raagstrom Raagh and his fellows some ten paces ahead of her. Damn, the Hellspawn¡¯s busy. Kiwa commented. Damn motherfucker just used up all my Mana. Again. Kevin wailed. Shit, I can get only 8MP from my Essence Pools. That¡¯s it. Master Fenar, I¡¯m cutting you off. Don¡¯t you dare! I¡¯m in the middle of ¡­ Fenar protested immediately. Sorry mate, Krissy has priority. The spirit cut him short. Then get here already and do something useful! This is tougher than I thought. Fenar yelled back at him. Tougher than he thought? Krissintha almost couldn¡¯t believe it. Master Fenirig Arte was struggling? What was she supposed to do without Kevin¡¯s Mana? But the answer was there, Fenar had already said it: ¡°get there and do something useful.¡± It was all happening just beyond the houses. It wasn¡¯t far, she just needed to jog around them either left of right. Simple. Raagstrom Raagh and his team were doing it already. ¡®Come on, boss, let¡¯s join this party!¡¯ Kiwa yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. I got Mana-Armour back up, but don¡¯t have any extra for anything else. Kevin reported again. That was better than nothing. Krissintha picked up the pace, following her companion around the large buildings, her heart beating in her throat, but suddenly feeling a strange calm coming over her. So, this was it. Life or death, and she was rushing to it. Again. Damn, Kitala Iwani and Master Fenar were a horrendously bad influence on her, weren¡¯t they?