I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. The glow of the early sun shifted with the ripples of silk sheets that hugged the contours of my body.

  I sat up, cascading the sheer waves away from me. My heart thumped strangely solid in my chest. I raised my arm. The blue veins that trailed under my pale skin looked normal enough, but I sensed the residue of energy that had coursed through me.

  Had my body changed?

  I hurried to check the status screen.

  All my attributes had increased by one overnight, while the ones that still had the [Sync Penalty] had doubled.

  Was it due to my pledge? Those words. There was power in them. The agony of my past had gripped me so viscerally through the moonlight.

  But those were still just words. A more pragmatic part of me pointed at a more likely culprit, the other major thing that happened yesterday: reaching Rank One of Demon Sword. It had given me [Demon Sense], but that didn’t preclude other changes as well.

  Checking [Demon Sense] displayed:

  The implications of the text made my skin crawl. The brightness that I had sensed in Mama and the girls now felt tainted. I pulled my tongue back from my lips.

  Had I been tasting their souls?

  And power. Was that the aura I sensed from Zadina? Were the hot, searing waves emanating from her a sign of her power, or the intensity of her emotions? She was higher level than everyone else, but I also knew how strongly she felt about me. Disturbing as it was, I needed to figure out what these senses indicated.

  In either case, I had been irrevocably altered.

  Murion had explicitly forbidden me from going beyond Rank Three. Rank One hadn’t produced any visible changes. Maybe Rank Four would give me horns?

  It’s a little strange that I’m thinking about drastic changes to my body with such detachment. I suppose with me, everything was drastic, ever since birth.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Scanning the other numbers, my stats had increased quite a bit as a result.

  I pulled off the gold rings on both my hands and put them back on, observing my stats as I did so. [First of Avatince] gave me 44 [Magic] and 36 [Grace], while [Mind Messenger] provided 16 [Mental]. That felt like a lot, and it would only get better.

  I couldn’t shake the idea that I had a massive fortune on just two small fingers.

  Definitely not appraising these.

  “Mama, I’m going out for my morning run.” I whispered down to Mama’s sleeping form.

  “Mmmhmm…” She mumbled a few incoherent words, her hand raising and then slumping back amongst the sheets.

  Mama was not a morning person.

  That was probably why she was so peeved when the Valiant Fist and Winthrop woke her out of bed last time.

  I slipped away from her and got out of bed. Peeling the nightshirt off, I examined the remains of the wounds that crisscrossed my body. The scabs had faded considerably, without extra healing. This corresponded with the drastic recovery of my HP in the stats. I had recovered quickly before, but not like this.

  Was this another effect of being at 10% Demon Sword?

  I changed into a set of light outdoor clothing: a loose long-sleeve shirt that billowed over my iridescent skin, and simple dress-like pants, both made of white breathable linen.

  I’d prefer something shorter for the summer heat, but that’d be scandalous for someone of my status. I’d gotten used to that.

  Taking my usual route, I waved to farmers and the field hands along the way, exchanging our usual greetings. I ran in long strides, bouncing off the gravel path edging the grids of wheat fields. The fresh morning air filled my lungs. The scent of adoring flowers, wavering grass, and dancing wheat was a welcome relief from the stale dust-choked air of the dungeon.

  Once I passed out of sight into the depths of the woods, I let loose. The air howled against my ears and tugged at my body as I pushed myself to the limit, my muscles protesting against the strain. Trees zipped past as I blurred by, leaving spiraling trails of leaves and dust.

  The wind rushed over the fine hairs on my skin, scintillating my nerve endings. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. The exhilaration of going all out gripped me.

  Dark threads wove around my body as I sped around another tree, the oncoming air pulling back the dark fabric of the resulting [Shadow Shroud]. I channeled the flow of magic forward into the shadow on the ground and pushed it up the tree trunk.

  I could’ve focused on [Shadow Spread] in my mind to cast the spell, but doing it that way felt cheap, like I wasn’t the one actually casting, and was just using some kind of shortcut. Manually casting spells through manipulating the magical flow felt more right to me. I had more control of the spell: how much mana I poured in, how it was structured, including its shape and size. It was more tactile, like my mind was moving something solid that pushed back against me.

  Over time, I was building up a mental muscle memory of the spell, and I could cast it faster than even focusing on the mental spell image. It was becoming a reflex.

  It wasn’t obvious how all the different spell mastery skills worked with manually casting spells, but they did seem to have an effect. The mana cost was lower, so I had to pour in less, but I couldn’t see how the masteries changed the spell. Perhaps, they changed something more innate, like me.

  In any case, I preferred manually casting, even if it was a difficult spell like [Shadow Shroud].

  I formed the [Shadow Sword] out of the shadow now stretching up the tree and grabbed the hilt before diving into the shadow itself.

  Emerging halfway up the tree, I kicked off the trunk and dove into the shadow running up another tree. I did this several more times, letting my momentum carry me as I darted between the shadows of the foliage.

  With my [Quickness] and [Agility], I was flying through the treetops with ease, not missing a branch to kick off of or a shadow to sink into. The sensation was even more exhilarating than the sprint.

  I raised [Shadow Fingers] and fired low-powered [Shadow Spikes] at myself as I flitted between branches and shadows. My blade cut down a few black spikes, and I slipped under the rest. Upon landing, more spikes shot down at me from all sides.

  Monsieur Liancour, the ma?tre d'armes who had called my style brutishly beautiful, had always emphasized that I should go à outrance—to the extreme—in all things, including practice. He honed that mindset in me.

  “On the field of battle, never believe that ‘there is always someone better’,” he’d say with a sneer, directing me to slice away at the target one more time. “If you are not the best, tu es morte.” You are dead.

  I spun, cutting down all the incoming spikes in a whirlwind of blade arcs.

  More [Shadow Fingers] rose out of the darkness above; like archers lining the parapets, they fired miniature [Shadow Spikes] down at me. A rain of arrows.

  I moved the fabric of my [Shadow Shroud]. It was made of shadows after all and therefore I could control it through [Shadow Mastery]. Not only that, but the defense it provided was based on [Mental], so my mind definitely had some effect on the writhing robe.

  Wisps of black fabric cycloned around me, knocking away the arrows that covered the sky.

  More [Shadow Fingers] rose from the patches of darkness on the ground. This time, I shaped them into wavy humanoid figures—a file of goblins standing in formation, pointing a wall of spears at me.

  I dove at the points, flinging the fabric ahead, shaping and hardening the wisps into sharp blades, shredding the wall as I advanced. I streaked past the figures, and with one sweeping swing, my sword sliced through their nebulous necks all at once.

  At the end of the line, one giant shadowy figure arose, formed by combining multiple [Shadow Fingers]: an ogre. It swung its club down at me, and I met the attack with a quick dash through [Hasted Steps]; the wisps of my shroud sliced into its thick legs as my sword thrust up into its face.

  —

  My chest heaved up and down as I wiped the sweat beading on my forehead, exhaling a deep, satisfied breath.

  It felt good to have pushed myself so hard. Now, with a clear head and surrounded by nothing but the chirping of birds, I could take time to review the results of the dungeon dive.

  Finding a tree stump to sit on, I mentally brought up my inventory slots and retrieved the [Necklace of the Old Ways]. The claw-tooth necklace appeared in my palm with the small skull staring up at me.

  I turned the ugly thing over in my hand, looking over the crudely strung-up canines. This was the necklace that the Goblin Druidess had on, the one from my previous world and worn by the Celtic Druidess.

  Identifying the item again showed:

  There wasn’t any mention of effects or bonuses, but I knew from innate feel as Joan that the necklace gave a small bonus to [Willpower]. Steve’s blurry memories confirmed it as well.

  If the necklace had the same effect in this world, it should give me some insight as to how my stats and attributes work.

  I pulled out my leatherbound notebook from my inventory slots and unclipped the glass pen from it. Tapping on the sliver of blue magic stone embedded into the side filled the tip with ink. I jotted down the numbers from my status screen.

  Then I unclasped the necklace and placed it around my neck. A pungent, sour scent rose from the necklace. The thing smelled as foul as it looked.

  I quickly pulled up my status screen and recorded the results. Then I yanked off the necklace, breathing through my nose again.

  After sending the awful item back into whatever dimension the inventory slots held items, I traced my finger over the results on paper.

  Let’s see, my [Willpower] did go up by three. So it seemed to show that identifying items and conditions from the old game would only show a simple description and not their actual effects.

  Several stats did change as a result of my [Willpower] increasing.

  So [Willpower] is tied to [Mana], [Magic], and [Mental]. Reviewing my past notes confirmed that the stat yield per attribute point had risen drastically, so the higher my attributes the more my stats increase from attribute gain or level.

  The stats have to be some kind of multiplier based on attributes and level.

  The question was: is it like this for all the monsters that crossed over? What about generals? If any crossed over as well, would their stats be like mine?

  I shook my head, a light laugh accompanying my heavy breathing. Due to [God’s Chosen], I was an aberration even as a general in The Hundred Years War. Most generals only had one attribute above the 70s, let alone three. Not only that, but I had the advantage of [Sync Penalty], which was something that was basically made up on the spot by me and whatever entity it was that migrated me over.

  After putting away the necklace, I took out the pure white headdress. I rubbed the sheer, smooth fabric between my fingers. Except for being a quest item, there was nothing else special about the headdress.

  I had used it plenty of times before, and it worked well, saving me plenty of headaches when dealing with the Donkey Master.

  It’s just… rather embarrassing using the item itself. I’d prefer facing him alone.

  I stared down at the white silk. The weight of it was heavy. When I found the headdress, it had been sitting on his blood-drenched fur.

  There’s another reason for the reluctance to put this on.

  After doing a mental review of all the fights down in the dungeon—the good, the bad, and… Polly—I moved over to a clearing to attempt a few of the spells that I had observed.

  The trap detection spell was easy enough to reproduce. I didn’t even have to do the pretentious act of blowing from my hand. Instead, just pushing out waves of magic in the right shape did the trick.

  The spell was added under my [Spell II] list. A few more tries and I was able to cast it through my [Shadow Fingers] as well.

  I should keep this hidden. Serina would be extra peeved if I showed this off. I could already imagine her eyes shooting daggers at me if I told her I spotted a trap without even entering a room.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t reproduce Justin’s Fireball spell on my first few attempts, only managing a few sparks at best. I wondered if it was because fire and light elements might be closely related.

  The sun was already climbing high above the horizon by my thirteenth futile attempt. I lowered my hand, letting another small burst of flames fizzle out. It was a little bit of progress, but I was drained, and had things to do today.

  A disturbance from behind me. It wasn’t the air, or a sound, no twigs snapping or dry leaves crinkling. No, this was from my other sense. A soul was close by. There was heat, but not searing. I sensed… longing? I turned to find a pair of feline eyes staring back at me.

  It was the giant cat that I had cast [Seduce] on almost a year back now. Here it was, still enthralled, slowly striding toward me with a rabbit held between its jaws. Another offering to its mistress.

  I walked over and stroked its head, my fingers tracing the soft yellow fur lined with dark stripes. It was more tiger than cat, and a large one at that. Its jaws could swallow my head in one bite, but it just nuzzled me, tickling my cheeks with its whiskers.

  “That’s a good… cat.”

  A name hung at the tip of my tongue, but I held back. It was too early.

  I took the rabbit and drained it to a husk with [Drain Touch]. Forming a void in my palm, I pressed it against the corpse, reducing it to nothingness.

  An offering of sorts.

  The tiger watched me without fear. “I can’t stay and play,” I said as I waved it away.

  I had promised Beatrice, Mama and the girls that I’d go on a picnic on the hilltop with them for lunch.

  Just a nice scenic meal with everyone before I descended back into the darkness below.