I open my eyes to the sight of broken glass and blood.
The lab where I was born greets me. It’s empty, congealing blood and mostly-Devoured corpses the only sign of life in the place. The place looks exactly the same as it did when I left it.
A pulse of inexplicable energy passes through my surroundings and my vision doubles. The scene in front of me fractures, information overwhelming my sight, and a second image lays itself on top of the shattered lab. I see the lab as it must’ve been before my creation—pristine tubes full of red liquid, unbroken tables neatly arranged, researchers walking around in lab coats.
I can’t tell which one is more real. When I tilt my head one way, each cautious step I take is accompanied by the crunch of glass under my feet. When I focus my vision, the cool air wafts the sterile scent of a clean lab to me.
As I slowly approach the tubes that possess (shattered bodies/germinating test subjects), I hear the sounds of conversation. The clean side’s words are much more distinct than the other’s, and I do my best to listen in.
“Are you sure they will take to this place well?” a male voice asks. With the fractured half-vision I have of the researchers, I can’t tell who it’s from. “The gestalts will not even have a level when they are spawned.”
“It’ll be fine,” a woman replies sharply, and I stop short.
I know the casual arrogance in that voice. I recognize the crystal-clear sound so sharp it could cut.
Sapphire.
The double-vision makes it hard for me to make out faces, and so I can’t tell which one is her, but that voice is unmistakably the same mysterious half-elf that met me on the train.
“This nation—what is it called?”
“The Crowned Islands, ma’am,” the same male researcher replies.
Sapphire—the past image of Sapphire, maybe—snorts. “Crowned in mud, if at all. The archipelago is fit for a child to grow, and this outpost even more so.”
“The UCC won’t take this lying down, won’t they?” another researcher—this one a woman—asks.
“Weak people breed weak anomalies,” Sapphire replies, bored. “Have you heard the levels of the guards here?”
“That’s true,” the same woman replies. She pauses. “Not a single one is above level 30, so I hear?”
“As I said,” Sapphire says. “This is a backwater. It is a perfect place to begin.”
Suddenly, my double vision resolves. The broken image of the lab fades away, and the entirety of my sight rests in the world before my creation.
“They’ll be ready in seven days, ma’am,” the first male researcher says. “You’re sure about the release? Will you not face consequences.”
“They can think of it as training,” Sapphire replies, dismissing his concerns with a wave of her hand. “What is most important is the gestalt you will create.”
This entire time, nobody’s noticed I’m here. Even though I make sound, it’s as if I’m watching a recording. I’ve assumed that I’m viewing into my own past somehow, a trick of the gods allowing me glimpses of what my memory will not grant me.
So it surprises me much more when the half-elf woman turns to me, her piercing stare meeting my eyes.
She smiles, and it does not reach her eyes. “A demon of unparalleled growth.”
A cold chill runs up my spine, and the scene shatters, reality itself falling to pieces. Unbroken tubes fade out of existence, then the people, then the rest, and I find myself in the dead, broken lab once more.
This time, I’m not alone.
A woman stands in my path. Her hair falls to her back, a dark ponytail with stripes of red running through it. She wears a white corset with a black chestpiece and a flowing dress—black once more. In her left hand, she wields a double-bladed scimitar, serrated edges gleaming with fresh blood.
She has my face.
“Evelyn,” the not-so-strange woman says, and she sounds nothing like me. My mirror speaks with a thousand discordant voices, each of them screaming over each other to be heard.
“You’re not me,” I say.
The me that isn’t shrugs, pointing its scimitar at me. “And who are you?”
I wait for nearly fifteen seconds before I realize it’s waiting for a response.
“I… don’t know,” I admit, the truth slipping out before I realize what’s happening.
“Then choose,” she says, and the Evelyn that isn’t me charges forward.
She’s blindingly fast—literally. Her figure blurs, and before I can even think about defending, a blade slices through my neck, severing my head clean off.
A blink of an eye later, not-Evelyn is standing where she was moments before, and I’ve been restored, my body intact.
“You are weak,” the collective of thousands says through a throat that is and isn’t mine. “Choose, and grow strong.”
The broken lab starts to fade away, but it doesn’t disorient me this time. This dreamlike space brought me in with my weapons and skills intact, so I try a Bloodstep—and I freeze in place.
The fake Evelyn raises a single finger, and the red-tinted world splits into a million pieces as every droplet of blood that composes my form explodes out.
A beat, and we stand still once again. Specks of what was my body stain not-Evelyn’s face and clothes. She doesn’t even blink.
We stand in a featureless void now, four stone pillars rising up around us. I don’t even look at them as I draw a knife from my belt, charging forward and drawing everything I can out of Knifefighting.
My mirror doesn’t rush at me with blinding speed this time. Instead, her one arm blurs, meeting every single jab and thrust with her double-bladed scimitar. Every single movement I make with either hand is met by her blades, every tricky two-angle attack blocked with ease. My skill’s perk to predict what moves she makes might as well be useless at her speed.
After five full seconds of negating every desperate attack I make, she slices my head off once more.
A beat.
Fine. I find the half-sized rifle strapped to my back, even though I dropped it before triggering whatever this is, and I fire.
The thunderous roar fades away quickly in the void-space we’re in, and I fire again and again and again until the gun clicks empty.
I lower the weapon, and not-me cocks her head.
Twenty-one bullets float in the air not three feet in front of her, frozen in space.
She flicks a finger, and all twenty-one shoot back at me.
“Choose,” the discordant voices cry, and my vision is forced to the pillars around me.
They’re pure white, I notice. I thought they were rock, but they could be marble or some substance not of this world. Whatever it is, all four carry a single item. One holds a knife, sharp and graceful. The next, a vial of blood that Shape Blood tells me is fresh. The third has a firearm similar to the one I wield resting on it. The last has a mask.
I touch the knife first, and the system speaks into my mind. Rather than the gentle, pleasant tone it normally takes, the dissonant thousands speak as one.
It’s not a confirmation. It’s an offer.
Class: Blade Dancer
The Blade Dancer has begun to master the art of the sharp death, infused by the power of blood.
Stats:
+5 Body (Speed)
+3 Body (Strength)
Unlock Body (Dexterity)
-3 Magic (Power)
-1 Magic (Meta)
+1 Body (Dexterity) every 2 levels
Skills:
Knifefighting (Silver) advances to Knifefighting (Gold)
Swordfighting (Silver)
Spear Wielding (Silver)
Blade Dance (Gold)
I nearly flinch back in surprise. The memories implanted deep within my soul scream at me that this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be seeing something this detailed. Class evolutions are meant to give me brief descriptions, not this full breakdown.
Then again, nothing about this evolution has been normal.
My copy remains eerily silent as I look over my options, a cold smile affixed to its face. She hasn’t moved in a fair bit.
I look away and move onto the next, touching the vial of blood.
Class: Blood Mage
The Blood Mage’s understanding of blood increases, and she uses her own blood to draw out the enemy’s.
Stats:
+10 Magic (Power)
+3 Magic (Regen)
+1 Magic (Meta)
-3 Body (Speed)
-5 Body (Strength)
+2 Body (Durability)
Skills:
Shape Blood (Bronze), Woundshape (Bronze), Blood Surge (Bronze), and Enhance Bleed (Bronze) become subsets of Blood Magic (Silver)
Blood Magic - Shape Blood (Bronze) advances to Blood Magic - Hemokinesis (Silver)
Blood Spear (Silver)
Bloodstep (Bronze) advances to Blooddash (Silver)
Another powerful upgrade. I need to remember that I still need to fight Regulus in the real world. Both of the classes so far have benefits and drawbacks both, but I think either of them could work.
Class: Bleeding Gunslinger
The Bleeding Gunslinger has learned the rare art of firearms. This one uses blood to support her shooting skill.
Stats:
+1 Magic (Power)
+5 Magic (Regen)
Unlock Body (Dexterity)
+10 Body (Dexterity)
Skills:
Firearms (Silver)
Shape Blood (Bronze) and Enhance Bleed (Bronze) advance to Blood Perception (Silver)
Bloodstep (Bronze) advances to Quickstep (Silver)
Pistol Whip (Silver)
Eagle Eye (Silver)
Charge Shot (Silver)
Ricochet (Bronze)
Interesting. Instinct tells me that the options class evolutions I receive are based on what I’ve done and what I can do. I haven’t used the guns that much, but I suppose the system has decided it’s a potential path for me.
Finally, I move onto the mask. It’s a full-face one, evocating memories of another life. A theater mask.
Class: Assassin
The Assassin blends into the background, a master of disguise. When the time is right, she steps forth and deals a devastating strike.
Stats:
+5 Magic (Power)
+1 Magic (Regen)
+4 Magic (Meta)
+5 Body (Speed)
-5 Body (Durability)
+5 Mind (Speed)
Skills:
Disguise Self, Temporary Shape Self, and Shape Self advance to Shapeshift (Gold)
Assassinate (Silver)
Knifefighting (Silver) advances to Knifefighting (Gold)
Another solid option.
As it turns out, I can’t view the details of the skills that the classes offer, which makes sense. They’re already a lot more than I should be able to see.
Blade Dancer gives me more longevity in a fight, Blood Mage turns my nascent blood magic into a powerhouse, Gunslinger gives me control over the weapons that half the guards from the site—UCC guards, they were called—seem to prefer, and Assassin enhances my ambush fighting style.
With the addition of the stat boosts and the level-up heal, all of them are likely to turn the tables against Regulus.
Despite that… I glance up, meeting my copy’s frozen smile.
All of these grant me progress, yes. They slake the thirst that burns through me, the need to advance.
But they won’t let me become like her. These classes are powerful, but they aren’t enough.
There are no other pillars, so I stride towards the not-Evelyn once more.
As soon as I make it out of the pillars, she blurs, and her sharpened nails punch straight through my chest.
I stand amidst the four items once again.
The idealized version of myself stares back at me, tilting her head as if to question me.
I advance again.
Her blade flicks forward, silver flashing in the corner of my eye, and I fall apart at the midsection.
I advance again.
She lets me get closer this time, but before I can even try to lay a hand on her, metallic spiderlike limbs shoot out of her back, stabbing me through the heart, throat, hands, and feet.
I advance again.
Again and again and again, I advance. Despite my excellent sense of time, I lose track of how long I spend. Dozens of hours, at least, never making it closer than five feet before the enhanced copy strikes me down. It might stretch out into days, but I know that little to no time is passing back in the real world, so there’s no point in keeping track.
It’s also a little hard to keep track when I can’t go thirty seconds without dying.
As she pulls blood from inside me, turning my flesh inside out, I wonder idly if the activities I’m partaking in here will help me increase my levels.
Only one way to find out.
I stop counting my deaths after the number reaches four digits.
My copy never slips up. She never makes mistakes. Whatever force is restoring me each time is restoring her too.
Until she does. It’s not a major mistake, of course it isn’t, but it happens.
I approach her, half-entering my Bloodstep, which I know will trigger her blood magic. She prepares to tear my skill to shreds again, but I’ve already ended it, rushing at her with my knives. Rather than wield them in a fight I know I’ll lose, I throw them both.
Not-Evelyn blocks them easily, of course, but it gives me a fraction of a second to Bloodstep unmolested.
It brings me close to her, closer than I’ve ever gotten before. I feel the blood within me start to shift, her magic preparing to fry me alive, and she reverses the grip on her scimitar, spearing me through the gut.
But it doesn’t kill me immediately. I use Temporary Shape Self to sharpen my nails into claws as I sit there bleeding out, my heart ready to explode under the pressure of my bloodflow acting under her control, and I slash out at her exposed arm.
A single drop of blood rolls down her flesh, and my mind is flooded with information.
Before I can die, I hiss out the words, “I accept.”
Class: Relentless Demon
The Relentless Demon has thrown herself at impossibility over and over and over far past the point of insanity. She will never stop.
Stats:
+1 to all stats
Gain +1 to all stats for each level
Traits:
Relentless
Skills:
Devour (Bronze) advances to Devour (Gold)
Siphon (Gold)
The void disappears as quickly as it came, and the last thing I hear is the thousands of discordant voices cheering.
Class evolution acquired.
Bloodspawn -> Relentless Demon
I open my eyes to the battlefield, fully healed.
I flex my hands experimentally, taking in my enemy. He seems so small after thousands of fights facing off against someone strong enough to kill with a glance.
“Hm,” I say, staring Regulus down. “My turn.”
I open my eyes to the sight of broken glass and blood.
The lab where I was born greets me. It’s empty, congealing blood and mostly-Devoured corpses the only sign of life in the place. The place looks exactly the same as it did when I left it.
A pulse of inexplicable energy passes through my surroundings and my vision doubles. The scene in front of me fractures, information overwhelming my sight, and a second image lays itself on top of the shattered lab. I see the lab as it must’ve been before my creation—pristine tubes full of red liquid, unbroken tables neatly arranged, researchers walking around in lab coats.
I can’t tell which one is more real. When I tilt my head one way, each cautious step I take is accompanied by the crunch of glass under my feet. When I focus my vision, the cool air wafts the sterile scent of a clean lab to me.
As I slowly approach the tubes that possess (shattered bodies/germinating test subjects), I hear the sounds of conversation. The clean side’s words are much more distinct than the other’s, and I do my best to listen in.
“Are you sure they will take to this place well?” a male voice asks. With the fractured half-vision I have of the researchers, I can’t tell who it’s from. “The gestalts will not even have a level when they are spawned.”
“It’ll be fine,” a woman replies sharply, and I stop short.
I know the casual arrogance in that voice. I recognize the crystal-clear sound so sharp it could cut.
Sapphire.
The double-vision makes it hard for me to make out faces, and so I can’t tell which one is her, but that voice is unmistakably the same mysterious half-elf that met me on the train.
“This nation—what is it called?”
“The Crowned Islands, ma’am,” the same male researcher replies.
Sapphire—the past image of Sapphire, maybe—snorts. “Crowned in mud, if at all. The archipelago is fit for a child to grow, and this outpost even more so.”
“The UCC won’t take this lying down, won’t they?” another researcher—this one a woman—asks.
“Weak people breed weak anomalies,” Sapphire replies, bored. “Have you heard the levels of the guards here?”
“That’s true,” the same woman replies. She pauses. “Not a single one is above level 30, so I hear?”
“As I said,” Sapphire says. “This is a backwater. It is a perfect place to begin.”
Suddenly, my double vision resolves. The broken image of the lab fades away, and the entirety of my sight rests in the world before my creation.
“They’ll be ready in seven days, ma’am,” the first male researcher says. “You’re sure about the release? Will you not face consequences.”
“They can think of it as training,” Sapphire replies, dismissing his concerns with a wave of her hand. “What is most important is the gestalt you will create.”
This entire time, nobody’s noticed I’m here. Even though I make sound, it’s as if I’m watching a recording. I’ve assumed that I’m viewing into my own past somehow, a trick of the gods allowing me glimpses of what my memory will not grant me.
So it surprises me much more when the half-elf woman turns to me, her piercing stare meeting my eyes.
She smiles, and it does not reach her eyes. “A demon of unparalleled growth.”
A cold chill runs up my spine, and the scene shatters, reality itself falling to pieces. Unbroken tubes fade out of existence, then the people, then the rest, and I find myself in the dead, broken lab once more.
This time, I’m not alone.
A woman stands in my path. Her hair falls to her back, a dark ponytail with stripes of red running through it. She wears a white corset with a black chestpiece and a flowing dress—black once more. In her left hand, she wields a double-bladed scimitar, serrated edges gleaming with fresh blood.
She has my face.
“Evelyn,” the not-so-strange woman says, and she sounds nothing like me. My mirror speaks with a thousand discordant voices, each of them screaming over each other to be heard.
“You’re not me,” I say.
The me that isn’t shrugs, pointing its scimitar at me. “And who are you?”
I wait for nearly fifteen seconds before I realize it’s waiting for a response.
“I… don’t know,” I admit, the truth slipping out before I realize what’s happening.
“Then choose,” she says, and the Evelyn that isn’t me charges forward.
She’s blindingly fast—literally. Her figure blurs, and before I can even think about defending, a blade slices through my neck, severing my head clean off.
A blink of an eye later, not-Evelyn is standing where she was moments before, and I’ve been restored, my body intact.
“You are weak,” the collective of thousands says through a throat that is and isn’t mine. “Choose, and grow strong.”
The broken lab starts to fade away, but it doesn’t disorient me this time. This dreamlike space brought me in with my weapons and skills intact, so I try a Bloodstep—and I freeze in place.
The fake Evelyn raises a single finger, and the red-tinted world splits into a million pieces as every droplet of blood that composes my form explodes out.
A beat, and we stand still once again. Specks of what was my body stain not-Evelyn’s face and clothes. She doesn’t even blink.
We stand in a featureless void now, four stone pillars rising up around us. I don’t even look at them as I draw a knife from my belt, charging forward and drawing everything I can out of Knifefighting.
My mirror doesn’t rush at me with blinding speed this time. Instead, her one arm blurs, meeting every single jab and thrust with her double-bladed scimitar. Every single movement I make with either hand is met by her blades, every tricky two-angle attack blocked with ease. My skill’s perk to predict what moves she makes might as well be useless at her speed.
After five full seconds of negating every desperate attack I make, she slices my head off once more.
A beat.
Fine. I find the half-sized rifle strapped to my back, even though I dropped it before triggering whatever this is, and I fire.
The thunderous roar fades away quickly in the void-space we’re in, and I fire again and again and again until the gun clicks empty.
I lower the weapon, and not-me cocks her head.
Twenty-one bullets float in the air not three feet in front of her, frozen in space.
She flicks a finger, and all twenty-one shoot back at me.
“Choose,” the discordant voices cry, and my vision is forced to the pillars around me.
They’re pure white, I notice. I thought they were rock, but they could be marble or some substance not of this world. Whatever it is, all four carry a single item. One holds a knife, sharp and graceful. The next, a vial of blood that Shape Blood tells me is fresh. The third has a firearm similar to the one I wield resting on it. The last has a mask.
I touch the knife first, and the system speaks into my mind. Rather than the gentle, pleasant tone it normally takes, the dissonant thousands speak as one.
It’s not a confirmation. It’s an offer.
Class: Blade Dancer
The Blade Dancer has begun to master the art of the sharp death, infused by the power of blood.
Stats:
+5 Body (Speed)
+3 Body (Strength)
Unlock Body (Dexterity)
-3 Magic (Power)
-1 Magic (Meta)
+1 Body (Dexterity) every 2 levels
Skills:
Knifefighting (Silver) advances to Knifefighting (Gold)
Swordfighting (Silver)
Spear Wielding (Silver)
Blade Dance (Gold)
I nearly flinch back in surprise. The memories implanted deep within my soul scream at me that this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be seeing something this detailed. Class evolutions are meant to give me brief descriptions, not this full breakdown.
Then again, nothing about this evolution has been normal.
My copy remains eerily silent as I look over my options, a cold smile affixed to its face. She hasn’t moved in a fair bit.
I look away and move onto the next, touching the vial of blood.
Class: Blood Mage
The Blood Mage’s understanding of blood increases, and she uses her own blood to draw out the enemy’s.
Stats:
+10 Magic (Power)
+3 Magic (Regen)
+1 Magic (Meta)
-3 Body (Speed)
-5 Body (Strength)
+2 Body (Durability)
Skills:
Shape Blood (Bronze), Woundshape (Bronze), Blood Surge (Bronze), and Enhance Bleed (Bronze) become subsets of Blood Magic (Silver)
Blood Magic - Shape Blood (Bronze) advances to Blood Magic - Hemokinesis (Silver)
Blood Spear (Silver)
Bloodstep (Bronze) advances to Blooddash (Silver)
Another powerful upgrade. I need to remember that I still need to fight Regulus in the real world. Both of the classes so far have benefits and drawbacks both, but I think either of them could work.
Class: Bleeding Gunslinger
The Bleeding Gunslinger has learned the rare art of firearms. This one uses blood to support her shooting skill.
Stats:
+1 Magic (Power)
+5 Magic (Regen)
Unlock Body (Dexterity)
+10 Body (Dexterity)
Skills:
Firearms (Silver)
Shape Blood (Bronze) and Enhance Bleed (Bronze) advance to Blood Perception (Silver)
Bloodstep (Bronze) advances to Quickstep (Silver)
Pistol Whip (Silver)
Eagle Eye (Silver)
Charge Shot (Silver)
Ricochet (Bronze)
Interesting. Instinct tells me that the options class evolutions I receive are based on what I’ve done and what I can do. I haven’t used the guns that much, but I suppose the system has decided it’s a potential path for me.
Finally, I move onto the mask. It’s a full-face one, evocating memories of another life. A theater mask.
Class: Assassin
The Assassin blends into the background, a master of disguise. When the time is right, she steps forth and deals a devastating strike.
Stats:
+5 Magic (Power)
+1 Magic (Regen)
+4 Magic (Meta)
+5 Body (Speed)
-5 Body (Durability)
+5 Mind (Speed)
Skills:
Disguise Self, Temporary Shape Self, and Shape Self advance to Shapeshift (Gold)
Assassinate (Silver)
Knifefighting (Silver) advances to Knifefighting (Gold)
Another solid option.
As it turns out, I can’t view the details of the skills that the classes offer, which makes sense. They’re already a lot more than I should be able to see.
Blade Dancer gives me more longevity in a fight, Blood Mage turns my nascent blood magic into a powerhouse, Gunslinger gives me control over the weapons that half the guards from the site—UCC guards, they were called—seem to prefer, and Assassin enhances my ambush fighting style.
With the addition of the stat boosts and the level-up heal, all of them are likely to turn the tables against Regulus.
Despite that… I glance up, meeting my copy’s frozen smile.
All of these grant me progress, yes. They slake the thirst that burns through me, the need to advance.
But they won’t let me become like her. These classes are powerful, but they aren’t enough.
There are no other pillars, so I stride towards the not-Evelyn once more.
As soon as I make it out of the pillars, she blurs, and her sharpened nails punch straight through my chest.
I stand amidst the four items once again.
The idealized version of myself stares back at me, tilting her head as if to question me.
I advance again.
Her blade flicks forward, silver flashing in the corner of my eye, and I fall apart at the midsection.
I advance again.
She lets me get closer this time, but before I can even try to lay a hand on her, metallic spiderlike limbs shoot out of her back, stabbing me through the heart, throat, hands, and feet.
I advance again.
Again and again and again, I advance. Despite my excellent sense of time, I lose track of how long I spend. Dozens of hours, at least, never making it closer than five feet before the enhanced copy strikes me down. It might stretch out into days, but I know that little to no time is passing back in the real world, so there’s no point in keeping track.
It’s also a little hard to keep track when I can’t go thirty seconds without dying.
As she pulls blood from inside me, turning my flesh inside out, I wonder idly if the activities I’m partaking in here will help me increase my levels.
Only one way to find out.
I stop counting my deaths after the number reaches four digits.
My copy never slips up. She never makes mistakes. Whatever force is restoring me each time is restoring her too.
Until she does. It’s not a major mistake, of course it isn’t, but it happens.
I approach her, half-entering my Bloodstep, which I know will trigger her blood magic. She prepares to tear my skill to shreds again, but I’ve already ended it, rushing at her with my knives. Rather than wield them in a fight I know I’ll lose, I throw them both.
Not-Evelyn blocks them easily, of course, but it gives me a fraction of a second to Bloodstep unmolested.
It brings me close to her, closer than I’ve ever gotten before. I feel the blood within me start to shift, her magic preparing to fry me alive, and she reverses the grip on her scimitar, spearing me through the gut.
But it doesn’t kill me immediately. I use Temporary Shape Self to sharpen my nails into claws as I sit there bleeding out, my heart ready to explode under the pressure of my bloodflow acting under her control, and I slash out at her exposed arm.
A single drop of blood rolls down her flesh, and my mind is flooded with information.
Before I can die, I hiss out the words, “I accept.”
Class: Relentless Demon
The Relentless Demon has thrown herself at impossibility over and over and over far past the point of insanity. She will never stop.
Stats:
+1 to all stats
Gain +1 to all stats for each level
Traits:
Relentless
Skills:
Devour (Bronze) advances to Devour (Gold)
Siphon (Gold)
The void disappears as quickly as it came, and the last thing I hear is the thousands of discordant voices cheering.
Class evolution acquired.
Bloodspawn -> Relentless Demon
I open my eyes to the battlefield, fully healed.
I flex my hands experimentally, taking in my enemy. He seems so small after thousands of fights facing off against someone strong enough to kill with a glance.
“Hm,” I say, staring Regulus down. “My turn.”
