9th of the month of the Wormlord, current time

  Day six of the expedition.

  There were only two waves on this day.

  The first was just more barrier rats like the ones we had been fighting for so long. Even Medea had developed a really fragile barrier skill from just guzzling them. They fell swiftly and it was simple. The rats rushed into the meat grinder with mindless aggression. We had settled into a tried and true pattern. Neevom would create that funneling half bunker thing and then we would let them come to us. The rats were too numerous and came in staggered waves so Neevom couldn't just simply crush them all. Or perhaps he and didn't bother because of it being shit experience for his level. Whatever, I was not complaining. I liked my levels.

  Once again we were sweating and huffing by the time the tide abetted. But it was not a huge problem for anyone. After a short rest, we continued onwards.

  The other was a small wave of rats without barriers or the rumbling I'd come to associate with retchroot. These ones looked young. Possibly the last line of defense left before whatever was birthing them. And I knew it was related to the bones because I was recognizing the trees now.

  Gres, as usual, called out while swinging down on a rat. The entire thing had turned into a bit of a ritual now. Every frontliner would yell out small talk while killing. A very stupid tradition but I'm not the type to judge. “Hoy you lads and ladies! You reckon these bastards are running out o-” The rat exploded, taking half of Gres’s head with it. He would have died, have died but his head started regrowing even as it started to break apart as a healing effect activated. For a moment, it seemed like his head rippled, breaking and reforming in a wave before he gasped and collapsed, thankfully still very much alive. Not everyone was that lucky. Tres was not that lucky.

  Cold Blooded

  I summoned Medea back but I was not fast enough to avoid it being injured, missing several limbs and eyes but at least it was not dead. I cast a quick Molt Mana Bolt

  All around me, every close range fighter was retreating as a wall of earth rose and slid across the ground. It slammed into the rats, dozens exploded at once and swept them away. Further ahead, arrows of darkness that looked like spears made for giants were raining down. Everywhere an arrow made landfall, a circular ripple of black spread out. All that touched those ripples simply disintegrated.

  16th of the month of the Devourer, over a month ago

  Fahria wasn't sure what to think of the awkward girl with the hideous pet. Usually she wouldn't bother interacting with another free contractor but Fahria was a lady and a potential heir of the House of Shakirn and she was trained and expected to find and recruit young talent. Really the girl with the spider-scorpion was almost too obvious. Couldn't afford armor and moved with all the grace and purpose of a child with sub 30 physical stats but had a pet like that. She had spied the poor girl counting her daily contract wages of all things. And yet she could somehow afford to become a free contractor. That simply didn't make sense.

  Of course there was the possibility that she had blown all her money on the joining fee but her clothes were clean and she bore the telltale signs of a recent full body biomancy. The slight floatiness of her steps as she kept overshooting and correcting herself. The crushing grip that underestimated her own strength and a hundred other smaller signs. The conclusion was obvious, someone had noticed her and was sponsoring her contractorship. Fahria didn't intend to step on anyone's toes but that had piqued her curiosity.

  The girl was slightly paranoid but didn't notice Fahria watching her as she exited her sector after being positively drenched in slime blood. She would approach her tomorrow. Best case, she will find herself a powerful ally. Not best case, she'd make a friend. Bad case she was a spy.

  By the time Fahria returned to the penthouse she had purchased for the next six months, dusk was creeping in. She clapped her hands and a butler appeared with a bowl of some sort of fowl stew that he set on a table before disappearing in silence. She ate in silence until a slight draft let her know that a window had been opened. He was not late.

  “Report Terris.” She commanded. A man who seemed to be comprised of nothing but shadows knelt by her side in an instance.

  “My lady, our suspicions were correct. I have confirmed that a feather was sold to a Turnis Crisham and is currently on display in his private gallery. I shall retrieve it soon.” The man spoke without any intonation.

  “Good. See to it that no one discovers that it is missing. Anything else?”

  “No, my lady. Nothing that requires your attention.”

  “Very well, you are dismissed.” Fahria continued eating as the man disappeared, as silently as he had appeared.

  Gres looked distraught as he beheld the corpse of his brother. Those that had lived had been healed quickly by the mysterious healer but pain was not just physical, was it? Even Mirin, the girl who laughed without cruelty was gone.

  The ground was pockmarked with craters. The blood and blown apart pieces of flesh were all cleaned up by Neevom without a word. Dellish, and by extension, Catrian customs didn't believe in burials, cremations or anything else like that. From dust to dust, from skill to skill. The dead will always be used in service of a new generation. That was how it has been done since before Catria existed, and that's how it shall be done when Delport was gone. But dignity? That was warranted. This time, the flesh was not compressed into a ball. Instead an open sarcophagus of titanic proportions was conjured up, half rock, half iron. And when it was filled up, it crushed all that it held and then it broke into tiny boxes. The crushing was not for us to see. Medea ate in silence.

  Ten dead because I didn't dispose of the godtouched bones or ask Valdima to do so. I could claim ignorance but was a lack of intention or knowledge the absolver of responsibility? No law in either of the worlds I knew claimed so. And so I responsible. Ten dead because fate twisted itself in knots around me.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Fahria approached the girl. She was named Anya. A strange name but she was from one of those remote settlements with their own culture. She was understandably wary, perhaps a bit too skittish but they did team up. And Fahria got to see her spider-scorpion in action up close. The creature was truly a terror in a fight, not particularly strong but it grew with each slime it devoured. It grew just a bit closer to something every time they killed something. Still, the girl seemed confident that it was under her control. That didn't mean that she didn't keep an eye on it at times.

  The culling proceeded without incident and Fahria learned that she had escaped slavery in Khagra. That would certainly explain how twitchy she was. In exchange, Fahria told her about her status as a shakirn to a mystified expression. Nothing that anyone with determination couldn't find out. Privacy was not a luxury she was afforded in public, it was simply that most contractors didn't know or knew too much to make an issue of it. Cognitomancy didn't affect those with phoenix blood and ransoming would bring the entire house down on the fools that attempted it.

  Afterwards, the girl excused herself as she had some errand or another. Fahria watched her scoot away and wondered what exactly was it that niggled at her about Anya. Something was wrong with the girl, it just eluded her exactly what it was.

  Back in her penthouse, an unassuming envelope awaited her.

  I tried to ignore the mourners as I stalked through the camp. What could I do? Tell them that it was because of my mistake that their friends, family were dead? And put myself in danger? Sure, it might be a better closure than letting them believe that it was just some random mutant rat but it was just the truth that I was not that much of a saint. Just me keeping the secret in my heart was enough. Enough for me, for now. I didn't have the patience for more.

  No levels from the second wave despite the kill notifications. Experience worked on a contribution ratio basis and I'd done nothing. Nothing other than bring death with me, in one world and in another.

  I now realized why Valdima was trying to scare me. Why she had no regards for my well being beyond divine decree. Why she wanted me gone. If all or even a significant number of godtouched were like me, then no wonder the gods had to step in and outlaw straight up execution of us. Who wouldn't burn the witch when they knew that her existence promised chaos?

  Terris returned and he bore good news.

  “Milady, I have secured the Great Ancestor's Feather. Would you like to have the broth prepared tonight?” He was as emotionless as ever but the shadows around him seemed more agitated than usual. A sign of excitement. Fahria briefly wondered if Terris had betrayed her and the feather was tampered with but that was not possible, Terris was oathbound to her. He would serve her, in life or through death without hesitation.

  “Yes, that would be wonderful. Terris, your work is excellent as always.” That didn't mean that she couldn't compliment him. That was one lesson that had been bored into her head as a child. Don't treat your subordinates like shit unless you want a knife in your back. She walked out, clutching the envelope.

  She left New Delport for the great forests in a rented carriage. At some point, Terris swooped in with another girl. Seemingly dropping from the trees themselves. The girl took over the driver's seat and Terris grabbed Fahria. And in less than an hour, she was back in her penthouse but without anyone knowing.

  The broth was red like blood and bubbled from an inner heat that Fahria knew would last for hours. And that was enough. It would hurt to drink but letting it cool and grow inert would be a colossal mistake. She would bear it. But first, preparations.

  She had been fortunate that her current class path had reached its end and she hadn't picked a new one. That meant that she could pick one immediately after consuming the feather. In all honesty, she had heard the stories and dreaded it somewhat. Not that it would stop her.

  It was not a ritual that was meant for anyone to see, not even Terris. She went to her bedroom and sat the bowl of red liquid on a bedside table before sitting down on the bed herself. A full length mirror faced her.

  She took off her gloves with practiced ease, revealing fingers that terminated in orange claws instead of nails. She flexed them, noting their size. Bending down, she loosened her shoes to free digitigrade talon-like feet. And then she took off her robes until she was naked. She shivered and took a moment for acclimatization to the cold, she was still on a timer. First, she set aside a tight bundle of cloth for her to bite down upon. And then she wore a protective visor to ensure she wouldn't gauge her eyes out. It was all ready.

  Fahria brought the bowl to her mouth and drained the scalding liquid in one gulp. She didn't have time to be slow and deliberate anymore. Pushing the bowl aside, she swiftly clamped down on the cloth gag and laid down on her stomach. The sound of the bowl shattering rang out after she was in position.

  Her orange claws elongated until they were knives and then two massive burning orange wings pushed their way out of her back with the sound of crunching bone and a spray of viscera. The wings flapped uselessly in the air. Fahria spared a moment to analyze her new wings in the mirror. Dozens of lines of system notifications rang out until it became a melody of its own.

  And then came the pain. She screamed.

  I spotted Fahria. She was reading a paperback, and briefly considered turning away but I didn't. Instead I walked up to her and motioned to ask if I could sit beside her. The girl did not notice and I tapped her on the shoulder and repeated it. She nodded and we sat in companionable silence. She was not whom I was looking for but she was someone. And I was not even sure what I was looking for.

  Medea followed after me, its recovery expedited by the same healer who had prevented so many deaths earlier.

  The broth hadn't changed her body that much. Her claws were a bit longer and her back now had a v shaped scar on it where the Great Ancestor's wings had torn their way out before eventually dispersing back into mana.

  She was still shaky. Her body had almost instinctively adapted to her new stats but the sheer trauma of the event remained. Even then, she had rested for long enough. She schooled her face into an expression of normality, picked her new class path and left for the guild. An alibi was already prepared that was solid enough that no one would suspect she was out of commission for days. If that was known then it would be easy to guess that a feather broth was involved, and if so then Terris’s theft might be discovered.

  Fahria still felt flashes of rage and urges for violence that didn't belong to her. The phoenix was not a creature of peace. She glanced at Anya for a moment, dismissing the image of her wrapping her clawed hands around her neck. The phoenix’s essence will settle. She was not so weak. Control would come. It has to. She will not accept the alternative.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Hmm?” She didn't look up from her book.

  “This I mean. I know you are rich and you don't need the money. Slimes give almost as much experience and are safer. So why did you come?”

  “Alright. So you remember what I told you about my family?” Fahria began, putting down her book. I nodded.

  “Well the Shakirn clan is really powerful but that comes with its own issue. It is known as the Phoenix Crucible. I called it a tournament before but it is more like a war, no place is safe for me once it starts unless I withdraw.” A pause. “Or I die.”

  “I won’t withdraw. I can't.” She blinked away a memory of her grandfather bowing and grovelling for a minor offense before the clan head. Her otherwise proud and haughty grandfather, reduced to a snivelling servant.

  “The current leader of the Shakirns, that's my great great uncle by the way, won the last crucible but he is now old and decrepit. But I digress, winning the crucible unlocks a specific class called a Phoenix Ascendant.” Fahria told her the truth, no reason to lie about it.

  Fahria continued “That class has skills that only the phoenixes of old had. And it is special even beyond that. It levels, evolves and modifies skills independently of the normal classes we pick. But much more importantly, the ascendant commands absolute loyalty and obedience from everyone else in the clan. We don't get a choice to obey, we are bound to.” Anya nodded, looking thoughtful. She looked her in the eye instead of indulging in her usual avoidance of eye contact. Fahria didn't think she had even seen Anya's eyes since her assassin passive.

  “Thanks for telling me. I'll go now. I—” She paused, hesitated before continuing. “I just wanted to say that I get it. Being stuck with a monumental task that would define your entire life that you never asked for? I get it.” She said seriously and Fahria could almost believe that she genuinely did get it.

  I left Fahria behind, Medea insisting that I go somewhere. I followed it until I realized what it wanted to show me. A familiar shock of hair.