My hands moved to rend a hole in the already sliced demon. "You sure I've got the right half?"

  I don't know, bub. Why don't you try asking it?

  This fucker. "At any rate," I said, grimacing as I threw what looked like part of that thing's liver onto the snow, "I still can't believe I'm okay with all this."

  Well, it's not like you didn't get any prep time.

  "Prep time?"

  The baby willed a cigarette-shaped lollipop to life and puffed a cloud of glittery energy out of its mouth. What do you think the assessment was for?

  "I... don't know. I hadn't thought about that."

  It's not like I remembered going through it. Saying it was hard to consider something I had no recollection of was an understatement.

  So you learned both energy manipulation and swordsmanship overnight? And you're suddenly okay with gutting a demon because a flying baby told you to?

  A rancid smell stretched from the bleeding demon as I turned to stare at the baby. The bastard's right. I should have been panicking. Why wasn't I questioning any of this? And why was I so comfortable talking to a literal toddler?

  If the baby had noticed my staring, then it was making a point of pretending like it hadn't. With a flick of its fingers, a moustache popped to life over its lips and a small monocle grew to cover its left eye. What frightening adaptive capabilities you have. If I eat my Danimals, will I grow up to be like you?

  Before I got around to asking what in God's name had taken place in the increasingly mysterious assessment, the tip of one of my fingers brushed against something I just knew was what I'd been looking for.

  My hand twisted, burrowing in deeper as my fingers closed to wrap themselves around the slimy organ. I pulled, then pulled some more, and it was only when I yanked it as hard as I could that I managed to free my hand.

  "Fuck. That's vile."

  Then I almost threw up.

  If the rotting smell wasn't enough of a punishment, the sight I was later met with was sure to do the trick.

  Haha. And they say God doesn't punish twice.

  Where the demon had been a walking ball, this 'organ' was shaped like a small egg the color of the crimson sky. A small mouth hung halfway through the bottom of it and opened like a fish's as if to suck the air in. Strewn over the top were two blinking eyes, bloodshot from all the grabbing, whose irises were shifting from side to side in an uncannily human panic.

  I had to try my hardest not to drop it.

  Every molecule of that thing's existence was working to churn my intestines from the inside out.

  As I was telling you, the baby chimed in, That's the demon's energy core. They need one to channel and store energy in their bodies. You'll get stronger if you eat it.

  My eyes fell on the baby faster than they ever had. "I am not eating this thing."

  That's a you problem, bub.

  I turned my head back to the small core, hoping the sight would have become more bearable, only to find its face contorted in a silent yet screaming kind of pain that sent my eyes swivelling right back to the baby. "Nope. Not doing it."

  Haha. You're so much fun, June.

  The baby flapped its wings even harder. Then, it hovered closer to the core and let its face roll towards me the same way a puppy would. I suppose there is an alternative.

  "And what's that?"

  It's easy. You assimilate it.

  ???

  "I have a bad feeling about this."

  Have you ever met a lying baby?

  "I've never met a talking baby."

  And here I thought you didn't see color. Are you ready?

  I gripped the demon's core with both of my hands to stop it from slipping. "So all I have to do is 'draw' the energy in?"

  The baby flew closer and closer until it was only a few inches away from me. Yes. Like sucking on a straw, only that you now have hands for lips.

  "I suppose that's simple enough."

  I closed my eyes. Somehow, my body immediately knew to dial down every one of my senses. Suddenly, the moon wasn't a worrying shade of red anymore. All that gore from earlier was swept off my arms. The rancid smell, too, was as good as gone. The baby's voice faded, swallowed whole by an immense nothingness, and my mouth seemed to forget the taste of the snowy air.

  It felt as though I was back in that assessment. That dark and empty room whose space I had to share only with myself grew to cover every inch of my surroundings.

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  I delved deeper into the room. After some hurried sleuthing, the red energy core came into view. Its eyes were every bit as human as they were when I first bore into them. Its mouth, however, had grown more expressive. The lips were squirming, wriggling left and right and up and down, trying their damndest to pass off for something human when the full set of its features was anything but. A tall nose, strong and defined like that of a classic portrait, had also sprouted off its oval face.

  The changes weren't merely aesthetic, though.

  The core, I noticed, looked bigger. Much bigger. So much that its size was not too different from my own.

  Still, I forced myself to settle down and shifted all of my attention to the staring core.

  Thrusting my arms out, shiny red tendrils of what I assumed was energy slithered out from my fingers to land on the protesting core. Its face melted into a silent screeching, prompting the thing to squirm in pain until it could squirm no longer.

  That was, until the tendrils had wrapped around the core in full.

  The second the energy settled, I began pulling it toward myself. The empty room shook violently, and the core took on an oppressive and struggling rattle.

  The harder I pulled, the harder the core seemed to push. I clenched my teeth, brought all of my attention to my hands, and pressed down on the core even more.

  The tussling went on for yet another second. Its rocking grew so violent a pair of tendrils snapped to reveal the bloody veins in its bulging eyes, but that was about all it could do. The moment that last stand slowed, I pulled what was left of the core and finally relaxed my hold on the thing.

  When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at the baby's grinning mug, its eyes drooping over my clammy hands. They shook as they held on to the demon's core. To my surprise, the small thing felt even lighter than before. It didn't take me looking down at it to puzzle out why that was.

  The core, the demon, and even the blood slathered over my arms were slowly lifting up the air. Their color had taken on a white so pure, you'd think snow was shooting off the ground. Shining motes of energy formed from that clear white, carrying on with the blowing wind, until the only sign that that demon had once been alive was the two imprints left on the snow where its sliced halves had been.

  I stilled. "Did I do it?"

  Can't say you didn't. Can you feel the difference?

  I flexed my fingers, stretched both of my arms, and got to my feet. I could tell that the burning sensation from earlier had come back to me. My chest was throbbing in anger, and I had a well founded feeling I could probably replicate what I'd done with the sword two or three times before I had to call it quits.

  Now that felt alright. Whatever this was, my body was intent on getting more of it--

  You better snap out of it, bub.

  --Which was why I didn't complain when I noticed the two silhouettes approaching in the distance.

  Grub's up. Let's hope you're feeling hungry.

  ???

  I willed every drop of energy coursing about my chest straight down my right hand. The second I thought back to the sword I'd summoned earlier, I felt my arm grow heavier and heavier. The handle was the first to materialize. The cold metal piece stretched down before tapering away at the sides, birthing a sharp guard whose length was no shorter than my forearm's. Then, as if budding and flourishing from the earth, the sharp gleam of that same crimson blade came to life.

  A quick glance down at the sword showed me the design hadn't changed much. The only real difference lay in the blade; where the other sword had been glinting a fluttering red, the shine on this new one was nothing short of blinding.

  And it was thanks to the fact the color on the blade had grown so lurid that the two darkened silhouettes became more than an outline.

  [Shapeling - Level 2]

  [Shapeling - Level 3]

  My eyes darted over to the two windows I saw open in the corner of my vision--

  Watch out!

  --And an arrow-like projectile the color of ice just about whistled past my ear as I moved my head the last second.

  They're proper demons, June. That's why the system recognized them. Be careful.

  I took a deep breath. Whether the cold was finally getting to me or not wasn't something I was going to bother investigating, but I could already feel beads of sweat forming around my forehead and glue my shirt to my skin.

  The two creatures looked uncannily alike. Save for the fact that the one on the right was an inch or two taller than the one on the left, they both sported the same set of humanoid features I couldn't help but cringe at. With long legs, long arms, and the hunched torso you'd expect to find on an alien, the demons looked like a pair of stretched out humans whose skin had been painted a crystal clear blue. Their hands, shaped like two crooked scythes, shone as a whirling mass of energy worked to shape an icy spearhead over their palms.

  I took yet another breath. My eyes jumped from one demon to the other as if I was going to find the answer to my predicament somewhere on them. What the fuck do I do?

  That's the moment I remembered something. Taking care not to let my eyes leave the pairing, I brought my head slightly closer to the baby and tightened my grip on the sword. "You said I learned how to use a sword in the assessment?"

  Yes. Your class has almost always been 'Swordsman'.

  "How long is 'almost always'?"

  I think it was around seventy-four years. Why?

  My breathing halted. Seventy-four years? I don't remember the last time I dedicated myself to anything for more than a year. If I'd spent well over seven decades swinging a sword around in that assessment, then maybe, just maybe--

  I gripped my sword with both of my hands and held it out in front of me. The ice projectiles just kept on getting bigger. Their shapes were growing solid, sharper and more defined. It didn't take long for the shapeling on the left to have created a missile the size of a small javelin.

  So I left my intuition in charge and handed my body over to it.

  The ice javelin shot out.

  My back foot slid down the grass, forcing my knee into an awkward slump, and my back bent over backwards as the projectile traveled over my body.

  Then a second javelin came. I knew I wouldn't have time to dodge. I knew I wouldn't have the skills to ignore it.

  But my sword knew better than to let it hit me.

  Before my back could so much as right itself up, my left hand lost the handle. My arm stretched, my fingers scrabbled to palm the blade, and my hand clutched the top part of the sword like it owed me money.

  Both of my arms stretched to meet the projectile. The ice clanged against the metal, and the clear blue pushed against the crimson red so hard that the flat of my blade came smashing against my face. By the time the ice had been blown to pieces, I was already sprawled on the ground as my head reeled and both of my arms quivered from the impact.

  My muscles seemed to have tanked that javelin so hard I didn't know whether I'd have it in me to hold that sword. But when I angled my neck to peep at them, I realized the two shapelings were standing still. Unmoving.

  And the next set of ice projectiles was just now beginning to form.

  I grinned.

  I didn't need seven decades of experience to know which one of us would get to the finish line first.