“Now please, grant this father an end with your true self.”

  The towering, ghostly figure of the Donkey Master lifted me upwards and exposed his ethereal chest to me. [Demon Sense] pinpointed the core where his intensely bright soul resided, the source of all that sweetness.

  I was about to raise my sword, but I realized what he meant by my true self. Calling to the depths of me, I unsheathed myself. The emotions that had been roiling within calmed to a simmer as I detached from them.

  Here I am. Here I’ve always been.

  My hand turned sharp, and I stabbed into the Donkey Master’s core, absorbing the concentrated ball of light that was his soul.

  A taste of thick saccharine filled my mouth. Finally, a soul with flavor, and yet, it was too much, so cloying that I had to stem the flow slightly.

  If what he said was true, then his soul had been marinating in despair ever since I became Joan.

  The ghostly face groaned, his ethereal outline twisted and then slowly dissolved into nothingness. That familiar, ancient face melted away, leaving only the wisp of a weary smile hanging in the air.

  As the essence of his soul filled me, a different kind of torrent slammed into me, one of exhilaration. I was assaulted with a barrage of mental images.

  Something felt off about the base stats, but before I could open my status screen, another stream of mental images flooded me. A second wave of exhilaration washed over me.

  I leveled again?

  Oh, that’s right, I took these guys on solo, and The Troll King was the final boss.

  As if on cue, another message showed in my vision.

  Three items materialized in the air: a purple potion, a yellow potion, and a tear shaped sapphire.

  I immediately knew what the sapphire was. I placed the gem over the ruby of my bracelet while my hand was still siphoning the remaining light.

  Plink!

  The sapphire snapped into the center of the bracelet, and the metal shifted from simple silver to a deeper, lustrous grey: platinum.

  The new effect didn’t seem as helpful now that I had the [Tiara of Solace], unless ailment and malady aren’t the same thing in this world.

  Doubtful, but… could be tested.

  I sent the potions into the bracelet inventory. At the same time, the last points of light were absorbed into my fingertips.

  I rolled my tongue over lingering sweetness. That soul was overripe.

  He really had been stewing for far too long.

  I touched the still open cut across my cheek. That line was now permanently etched upon my blade body.

  Was being marked for this taste worth it?

  No.

  The memories however…

  The expected message showed.

  That soul was rather filling. It and the souls of the guard trolls had brought my total well past 200 soul points

  That seems like it’d be useful.

  The world turned bleak white, and when the colors returned, I was standing once more in that crystal ball.

  The seat behind the desk was empty this time, and the desk itself was littered with stacks of papers. It seemed that lich, Murion, had been busy. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t present for me.

  Rather rude.

  A disturbance knotted my insides. An insistent tug from the depths.

  Yes, I know there is an urgent matter that needs attending back home. And you can come out when I’m done.

  But right now?

  I pushed my hand up to the glass wall, and my fingers faded upon contact.

  Like I thought, I wasn’t really here, just a projection. Else the others would have mentioned my body disappearing last time.

  A stack of papers caught my eye. There was writing on them: dense, scurrying script. And close by, a shadow cast by the flickering candlelight stretched from another stack.

  How rather convenient.

  But could a projection cast spells?

  Only one way to find out…

  I formed [Shadow Fingers] in that shadow and a dark appendage rose over the stack, fingers reading the lines on the top. It was a pattern I knew well now. Simple to repeat.

  Another hazy hand rose over the rows of stack cabinets he kept.

  It’d be nice to see all that he had in there as well.

  More [Shadow Fingers] rose, over other stacks of paper, pulling a tome bound in worn stained canvas from a shelf. Time was precious.

  This many layers? Not a problem.

  As those fingers traced over the runic scripts, their meaning took form in my mind. I seemed to know the meaning of these words intrinsically.

  I had seen this kind of writing in the forbidden section of the library, but their meaning had never popped out like this.

  Maybe, I needed to be unsheathed.

  Most of the papers contained logistics information: troop movement, supply lines, and commanders’ deployments. They read almost like orders. No, these were intel reports.

  But why would Murion need to spy on demonic forces?

  Unless he wasn’t part of the military command chain. He struck me as someone to keep track of things they do not control.

  The volume of paperwork indicated a sizable mobilization. Mostly underground, but into the center of the kingdom…

  I didn’t realize they were connected to dungeons, at least some of them.

  But do they anticipate conflict soon?

  The last sheet mentioned an operative being dispatched to Bloomcrest lands. Just as Tomas had warned me.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Another disturbance, this time a shudder in my chest, like someone was slamming their fists against a wall inside.

  Calm down. More intel, yes? Then we can play at home.

  My lips curled. In one of the tomes, my tendrils found a long-winded write-up on blood magic, complete with hand-drawn diagrams.

  The stack of small cabinets, on the other hand, resisted my attempts at prying them open. Sealed, magically or otherwise. Expected, but unfortunate.

  My [Shadow Fingers] exploring outside the large room spotted a robed figure, hurtling down the hallway. The rapid clicks of boots echoed against the cold stone, while a white bone chin jutted out of the dark hood. Murion was coming.

  I put everything back in place just as he stormed back into the room.

  “What is the meaning of this?! I thought I said not to raise your rank! And to stay hidden!” He slammed a bone hand against the desk, toppling a stack of paper. My crystal enclosure wobbled.

  I stared back at him, still and silent.

  His skeletal face filled the entire crystal ball as he peered closer.

  “What’s this! You’re damaged? How?!” he screeched frantically.

  It seemed he didn’t anticipate this.

  His hand scrambled toward a drawer and he pulled a vial with red liquid inside. He knew exactly where it was this time.

  He cast that spell again. This time, given context from what I had just read, I could see the mechanics clearly: it was a trigger spell activating the even more complex structure… the one caging me.

  Murion brandished the vial at me, as if that would somehow make it more effective. “I command you in his blood. Explain!”

  Nothing happened. No weight pressed down upon my consciousness. No commands were engraved into my mind. The [Tiara of Solace] did what it should.

  “Demon sent to my house.”

  I decided to play along. There was too much I didn’t know. For one, how to get out of here. Also, Murion seemed to like the sound of his own voice.

  Unlike my other self, there was nothing holding me to the truth, but throwing his own intel back at him felt... fitting.

  “To your house? You mean estate. Yes, there was someone sent there.” Murion’s bone fingers fumbled over a stack to his right, pulling out the top sheet. “That’s right, Karnsar was sent there at that witch’s request. But he’s a minor demon, he shouldn’t be able to do that.”

  “A scratch.” I touched that open, wet line across my cheek. “Why?”

  “Why did he attack you? He probably does not know you are ours.”

  Yes, not one of them, but theirs.

  To be used and tossed aside.

  The other me would find this rather familiar. I kept my face blank, expressionless.

  Murion couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “You should be indistinguishable from a human when sheathed. That witch, she knows what you are. But I’m sure she didn’t tell him. Just another cog in her schemes.”

  He was leafing through his sheets when he jerked his skull up, as if finally struck by the realization that I was still there. “Oh, yes… what happened to him?”

  There really was only one answer to give. The demon’s fate was sealed. “Dead.”

  Murion sank into his seat, the tips of his bony fingers tapping against one another in contemplation. “Makes sense… One should never underestimate the Prince of Ice. That must be how you ranked up.”

  It seemed best to let Murion’s mind work on its own. He had a habit of filling the silence with the most curious insights. The fact that this father of mine had a title amongst the demons was interesting.

  The Prince of Ice? Must be due to the blue hair.

  It’s also quite revealing that he assumed I couldn’t possibly kill the demon.

  I kept silent. Murion kept contemplating.

  “Perhaps this would disrupt her plans… No… That woman is always one step ahead. She’s likely using us to frame another enemy.” He was reaching for more papers when he paused, turning the red pinpricks in his eye sockets back to me. “You’re manifesting again, why?”

  I said the first thing that came to my mind. “Happened on rank up.”

  “Like last time, huh? I didn’t realize that’s the nature of the soul tempering process. You must not absorb souls in front of others, if that’s even possible to control. I must do more research… Now go, and stay hidden!”

  I sheathed myself as if I was forced to comply. The flames of rage flared up inside of me, and I gritted my teeth at the lich.

  That seemed to satisfied him. Murion waved his hand at me, sending a wave of magic toward the curved surface of the crystal. I noted the structure of the wave as it approached, and then white washed over my vision.

  The white receded to reveal the grey, broken stone of the ballroom. I was back in the final dungeon level. The bodies of the trolls were gone, and in their place was a large treasure chest, standing in the middle of the room.

  I knew the urgency of the situation. Murion might think my father could handle the demon, but there was no telling what collateral damage there might be.

  There always is, in war.

  I quickly ran up to the chest and opened it. Inside were a few red potions, and a pouch of coins that I immediately stashed away, and then two items that I just had to identify.

  The first was a sleek rapier with a blue sheen that hummed when my fingers hovered over it.

  Compared to all the weapons I had seen, this felt like a really high-quality weapon. And I knew someone who could use it.

  The other item was a rough leather belt. It looked like a certain girdle that I had seen in the other game, but it identified as:

  Is this a bugged hybrid item?

  The description certainly seemed like it: it appeared to be two different ones mashed together.

  In The Hundred Years War, both the [Girdle of Might] and [Tiara of Solace] were considered accessories. Whenever I equipped both at the same time, I could feel one of the items deactivating.

  This one however was considered a [Waist] type.

  There wasn’t much time. I quickly lashed the belt around my waist and didn’t feel either of the items deactivating.

  Checking the status screen revealed:

  I focused on [Strength], and the detailed breakdown appeared:

  So the belt seemed to be working.

  As I scanned the rest of my attributes, I remembered my sword form’s concern regarding my stats during the level up. The non-physical stats seemed to have risen even before I gained the level.

  What changed?

  The curse… Focusing on it showed only:

  Which was par for the course for a condition from the other game: just a stripped down description.

  But comparing my current attributes with those in my memory, the trade-off was clear. The curse had taken away 5 [Charisma] and in exchange given me 10 [Intellect].

  I touched the slash across my cheek. Still wet, but I had gotten used to the stinging pain. I could understand it making me ugly, hence the [Charisma] drop.

  But why would it make me any smarter? Maybe that’s the remembering part…

  I took a quick look at the last condition I had gotten, and it was about as expected.

  As Joan, the only element I worried about was fire, since so many runs had ended in ash. Once I obtained the sword, I became immune to flames, something I retained now that I was the sword. However, I had no other resistances. So far, I’d been making do with speed and scouting. This condition would be helpful in case I got caught or became complacent.

  I had 18 Skill Points to spend, but there was no time to deliberate.

  I can’t risk it. The attack could be coming at any time now.

  A pedestal with a purple gem stood next to the chest. Most likely, it led to the Guild Wayroom. I opted for the quicker route and opened up my bracelet’s waypoints screen.

  Technically, this was no longer a boss room.

  —

  My bedroom was dark when I arrived, my shadowy shroud outlined by the fading teleportation light dust. It was late at night, and all around me, a peaceful silence reigned.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Help!!!!”

  A shriek pierced the darkness. Claire bolted into the room, her usually tidy bun coming undone, strands of hair in disarray like her limbs.

  She stumbled, and I grabbed her by her waist, holding her up.

  “Jo?!” The tears in her eyes glistened in the moonlight. Her head whipped back to the entrance.

  Her pursuer appeared in the doorway, masked, dressed in black. His sword was drawn, the sheen of steel flashing in the pale light.

  He had made Claire cry.

  My blade glowed darker than the night. Its annihilating edge hungered.

  He was a dead man.