Accidental Healer

Mischief was bewildered.

He'd allowed himself to drift—the sun was warm and the evening was calm. When he opened his eyes there was two minutes until wave three—while he was napping, all fifty dead cats were gathered into a large pile.

Of course he'd heard his party members moving around, but he'd never imagined this was what they'd been doing. The weirdest part of it all?

The remaining cats created a rough semi circle around the pile, each of them seated cross legged.

And standing at their center? Green Eyes.

Urged by a morbid curiosity, Mischief forced himself up and meandered closer to the strange gathering.

None of them so much as glanced his direction. Once he was only a few feet away from the rear of the circle he paused, letting the clock of the next wave tick down slowly.

Green Eyes turned and saw him watching for the first time. Without hesitation he approached the pile of bodies, grabbed a lifeless arm, lifted it, then let it flop back down. He repeated the process once more before turning and fixing Mischief with a pained look.

"It's dead." He told Green Eyes.

Green Eyes looked at the pile of cats, along with the others.

"Dead?"

The word was soft, but to Mischief it might as well have been a scream. In the corner of his eye he saw the numbers ticking down below forty five seconds. He barely noticed it. How could he think about anything else?

Words.

The first of any he'd heard from any of the cat anomalies since discovering them. Mischief began rummaging through his memories. Had he known words right away?

No, not right away. Before he comprehended words there was a stirring of understanding, but not words. He hadn't known words until…until he gained an ability from the system. He gained the ability "Interpreter", that's when things changed.

He didn't know what everything meant, or if it was an ability that caused the change or not.

What did he know?

His party was changing.

He looked at his timer. Twenty seconds. Frantic, he leapt in front of the group.

"Let me attack first, tell others." He spoke it to Green eyes.

Whether he understood or not Mischief didn't know, but he repeated the same words telepathically over and over to each individual cat.

One problem with telepathy was that he could only communicate to a single individual at a time, so it took precious seconds to spread the message.

One by one he gave his order, until the clock hit zero.

He'd shared the message with less than a third of them before time ran out.

Deep roars signaled the bear's arrival. He spread his message a few more times before bounding off. As he sped towards the literal horde of bears, he spared a single glance backwards.

His heart skipped a beat. Through some miracle, not a single cat was charging after the bears. It was a testament to their rapid evolution. It was a mana spawns nature to charge recklessly at anything that moved. The simple fact that they were holding back now spoke volumes.

With renewed vigor he set to complete his part of this raid.

It was a role he knew well, a role he loved. Cripple. Don't kill.

Idly, he wondered what Layton might say if he knew the thrill Mischief felt dominating his prey. He found it hard to believe his friend hadn't felt it himself. The truth to sheer overwhelming force. He felt his heart pounding.

Unfortunately, he might've gotten a tad carried away, as his first strike whipped the massive bear around nearly decapitating it.

You have killed level 17 mana bear.

With a wry smile, he forced himself to focus. He'd need to be more careful if he wanted to leave any of the bears still alive.

Hundreds of bears thundered through the woods, shattering trees, their bulk crashed around him.

Long shadows spread through the valley cast by the many pine trees in the valley. It was perfect conditions for his shadow skills, and the anomaly became his playground.

Claws deep into the thick meaty hindquarters, he flexed his powerful forearms and heaved. The bear lifted into the air and was flung bellowing into another. There was a loud crack. Neither moved again.

He shadowstepped appearing behind a small group and quickly cleaved two hind legs completely off one before it knew he was there. Blood and carnage followed in his wake, bodies shredded and mangled—but alive.

It was a good start—-but sooner or later the pack would reach his party. And when they did, more of them would be killed.

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Except that's not what happened. He'd expected the wave of bears to surge past him, making a break for the weaker targets. But things shifted from good to great, when every single bear locked onto him. Like a hive of eight hundred pound furry bees they swarmed towards him every time he reappeared from shadowstep.

Mischief didn't waste his good fortune.

The woods became his canvas, his claws the brush. Green and browns became a wash of crimson.

He'd been surgical. Hundreds of shredded bodies writhed, moaning in agony—an entire wave crippled but not yet dead. It washed over him filling him with a morbid sense of pride.

Satisfied, he left the chaos behind.

His children waited patiently where he'd commanded them to stay, Green Eyes watched his every move.

Good. They needed to see what this world truly held for them.

"I'm done, you can have what's left."

Green Eyes didn't wait.

***

Congratulations, Wave 3 complete

HP and MP of all surviving participants restored.

Rewards calculated based on contribution. Calculation complete.

Reward: Contest of champions - You have successfully completed the third wave without the loss of a party member, and unlocked a final stage.

Choose your champion.

Warning - Selected champion must face the final stage solo.

Mischief lounged while the rest of his party looted. A second major benefit to his chosen strategy in the last raid was that he finally had a chance to witness the cat anomalies in actual combat. Obviously the bears put up little resistance once Mischief was done with them—but it did provide some helpful insights.

Without question there were a few of the cats that stood out above the rest. Four in particular had drawn his attention. The first was a white and grey shabby looking feline that used wind magic rather than its naturally given weapons.

There was also a pair of identical twin black cats that weren't particularly strong but seemed to coordinate very well with each other creating a dangerous duo.

But the one that stood out the most, and it really wasn't very close, was Green Eyes. Simply put, he was just faster, stronger and smarter than all the rest.

Except that isn't what piqued his interest the most. What really caught his attention was his ferocity.

Mischief watched him closely during the fight. On more than one occasion Green Eyes not only killed his target, he mauled it. Even after a bear was long past dead, his littermate tore and hacked until the beast was little more than a puddle.

It went beyond base animal instinct. Were Mischief dominated, Green Eyes raged.

There was raw emotion behind his attacks. His brows knit.

Was this type of brutality something to be encouraged? Or should Mischief be concerned?

He scoffed. Imagining what Layton might say. "What the heck man, what's with the deranged murder cat?"

Or something like that.

He'd probably be like, "I know we had to kill these bears, but we should kill them nicely."

In some ways Layton was so naive.

Still…he should probably figure out what was going on. Especially since Green Eyes was going to be their champion.

A notification entered his screen.

Time remaining to select a champion: 1:00:00…59:59…

Apparently the system was telling him it was time to get on with it. Naturally Mischief bristled at the prompting. He preferred to move at his own pace.

He didn't bother to walk, opting to simply shadowstep to where the battle took place. From there it didn't take long to locate Green Eyes. The cleanup was done, and most of the animals were lounging around.

He found his target leaning against a boulder toying with one of the bear claws he'd looted. Mischief quietly sat next to him resting on his haunches.

"Do you have a name?"

The question was more a formality. He knew the answer already, but it felt right to ask anyway.

As expected, Green Eyes cocked his head, lowering the bear claw.

"A name?"

Mischief heard the voice clearly in his mind, a tenor with a mild edge to it, like sand. Of course Green Eyes wouldn't have a name. Mischief hadn't either until Layton. Green Eyes should have a name.

But what?

He tried to remember how he'd gotten his own. Layton would probably take all the credit, but the truth was, he'd earned the name Mischief. It fit him, like he fit it. So what would fit Green Eyes?

Something green right? That felt obvious.

Let's see—tree, another tree, bush, tree, grass, young pinecone. He was literally surrounded by green.

Could he call him Grass? It wouldn't be too bad would it?

Fortunately for Green Eyes something caught Mischief's eye before he settled on calling him grass.

It was a simple bush he remembered from his childhood. A word filled his mind. The system was strange—pre-sapience words didn't exist to him, but rather than learning them all one by one they simply were available. So when his eyes caught the tall bush with lush green triangle leaves, he immediately knew what it was called.

"Bracken." It felt right. That was easy.

"My name is…Bracken? Do you have a name?" Bracken asked, hands to his sides, brows furrowed.

"Mischief." Bracken looked down and studied his strange hand like paws.

"I…remember you…" The words in Mischief's head sounded forced, like Bracken was trying them on for the first time—which made sense.

"What do you remember?"

Bracken's brows tightened further.

"Our mother? But, you're different. Not like then."

"You're different too, Bracken."

Mischief wished his telepathy allowed him to read minds. In a way, it did. He could sense emotions, especially strong emotions. And there was one emotion that stood out above all the rest—fear. He remembered that feeling. Gaining sapience was like living in a dark cave his whole life, only to be exposed to the sunlight in a moment.

Disorienting didn't begin to cover it.

Something drew Bracken's attention away.

"The bears. They killed us."

"That's right. They did kill some."

Bracken's expression, and emotions changed. He could still feel the fear, but he didn't need his ability to see the fire of anger behind the emerald green. So that was it then? Bracken was angry? Was that why he'd killed the black cat?

Mischief knew that feeling. He felt that feeling every time he thought of the woman in the woods who hurt Layton. Bracken cared. The deaths hurt him. He was starting to understand his litter-mate better and better.

"How does that make you feel?" He asked, letting Bracken acknowledge the emotion boiling within him.

His paws clenched and un-clenched. "It hurts." He hissed.

"Do you want it to feel better?"