Lament of the Slave

A beastly howl of pain echoed through the expanse beneath the crown of the Esulmor World Tree. And that howl belonged to none other than me. With the Young Mossbear’s bite into my hind leg, I could confidently say that the one small scar from the scratch on my left arm made no difference. Or if it did, the margin was so insignificant that it didn’t matter. The beast’s fangs sunk into my flesh as easily as before. And then, as the young male bit down harder, I lost my entire leg from the knee down - hence the howl.

Once again, it was my loss.

Much to my amazement and relief, when I let my loss be known by whimpering and lowering my head and wings, Young Mossbear, though eager to fight on, managed to keep himself in check. Of course, the male didn’t let his victory go by without a proud growl, and you could say mockery of me, but he moved aside to make room for my moss treatment.

»Heal?«

The answer to Mother Mossbear’s query was a resounding YES. The question, however, was how to go about it. My missing leg - the sight of it horrible, and the thought that I would ever be stuck that way even more so - was a real injury, one that the scar left in its wake could make a difference. It wouldn’t even be that visible a scar. My knees were mostly covered in fur, even in my human form. Yet a doubt about whether I was looking at the scars the right way crept into my mind.

After all, a tougher hide couldn’t have prevented someone like a mossbear from biting my leg off, could it? So maybe it would be better to focus on my skin’s resistance to poisons, acids, fire, and the like. To make it harder to get my parts bitten off was more the domain of my [Constitution] and [Unbending Resilience], the latter being very close to a tier-up, too. 

So . . .

“No!” I grunted, shaking my head to ward off the doubts. Scratches, even small ones, were something I was far more certain to get than any other kind of injury.

»Pup?« Mother Mossbear growled, confused by my actions. And it was no wonder. My dismissive grunt reflected my own confusion. However, as is often the case, the first thought seemed to be the right one. This was a golden opportunity - and should keep the scars be a bad decision, I was sure I could always find help here in Esulmor and have the scars I would regret removed.

The mind made up; I explained my predicament to Mother Mossbear, who was more than understanding. All I had to do was activate Tier IV of [Wrought Hide], and she did the rest.

• [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 95
• [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 96
• [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 97

As my new leg grew under the moss pile, so did my skill. As Mother Mossbear said, she worked alongside [Wrought Hide]. The scar formed where my old leg ended and the new one began. And apparently, it wasn’t just any scar this time.

• [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 98

While the soft moss roots tickled my body and gave me goosebumps, I anxiously waited for system notifications, wondering if this one scar would push me to a new skill tier.

• [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 99

Just one more. 

The thing was, I already had my leg back. No more healing needed, the scar was already in place. And to my relief, it did not look as bad as I feared.

Then, just as I had given up hope of a new tier, a familiar chime rang in my head again. Two in a row at that.

• [Wrought Hide] reaches lvl 100
• [Wrought Hide] reaches Tier V

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Wrought Hide: lvl 112

Passive IV → Passive V (Slave - 10%)

The delicate skin of humans is not to be bared in battle, unlike yours. Every scratch, every cut makes it stronger, and your fur is no different. Whether burnt, torn, or cut off, it will grow back tougher than ever before, making it your shield like your hide is armor to you. 

The [toughness] and [resilience] of your fur and hide increased by 110% (100%) → 154% (140%).

Tier II - You showed you’re no stranger to a fight and don’t shy away from getting hurt. You bled, shed your tears, but pushed on, further honing your hide.

The [resistance] of your fur and hide increased by 66% (60%) → 99% (90%).

Tier III - Deviants gravitate towards change, pushing their bodies further than the members of their species would think possible. Some, like you, go so far that their twisted body hardly resembles the original one, and your hide is no exception, twisted beyond recognition. Not every change has to be just for the sake of deviations, though. And should you find one such, that thou shalt not deem pointless, you’ll be able to use it throughout your hide.

Tier IV - The battle scars etched into your hide become a canvas upon which the stories of both your existence and your lineage are painted, interwoven into a narrative of enduring resilience. Each scar is a testament to your tenacity, a mark of honor that bespeaks the countless trials you've surmounted. These scars, far from being imperfections, are channels through which the very essence of your being flows, emboldens your hide with a nuanced, labyrinthine weight of these stories, infusing it with an indomitable strength that echoes through the time.

Each scar bears the memory of what caused it and the matching resistance to that cause.

Tier V - It’s not just the scars that tell your story and speak of your strength and prowess. Even a beast’s unblemished skin or fur can tell a great deal, sometimes more than the scars do themselves. The stronger you grow, the healthier and more vibrant you will find yourself to appear.

 

A pang of disappointment struck my heart. If I understood correctly, and I read the contents of the new tier back and forth a few times, all this tier did was make me look better - healthier. Sure, not things you can just brush off. I yearned to be pretty, to be liked, and it wasn’t just some beast instinct in me looking for a mate; it was mostly my human side, as far as I could tell. So why was that in this tier? It was so far from what I would have expected from a skill tied to a deviation towards beasts that I looked to Mother Mossbear and found myself searching for an answer with her.

When the huge beast laughed, I almost pissed myself. » To take care of one, pup, common sense. Tangled fur terror. Bone caught in your teeth nuisance. Long claws bother. Overgrown moss too heavy. Broken antlers shame.«

I couldn’t help but look all over the ancient female mossbear. As massive as she was, her fur the length of my hair, her entire back covered with moss, her antlers covered with lianas, she was not very well groomed at first glance, giving off a tired, clumsy impression. When I looked at her through the eyes of the beast, I saw her for what she truly was: a Mother Mossbear. From the tips of her antlers to the sharp ends of her claws, everything spoke of her might, vibrant with life. For all her age, she was vigorous; she wasn’t starving nor suffering from disease. Anyone who wasn’t blind could see that.

That was the power of Tier V. Show others who you are without saying a word. Make them think twice about provoking you before they even entertain the idea of messing with you.

»Pup see,« Mother Mossbear purred contentedly, letting the moss recede from my body. The healing was finished. I had my leg back.

“I do, thank you,” I growled back, expressing my gratitude and testing my new leg. It felt like I had never lost it, even though the scar hidden under the fur told a different story. The same held true after shifting into my human form. Only with a slight difference. Where the fur did not cover my knee, the sides and back of it, a thin scar could be seen.

No lasting consequences, no limitations, though. The scar did not go deeper than the skin. 

Eager to test the effect, I quickly shoveled in a few handfuls of lettuce moss and shifted back, ready for another round with Young Mossbear.

 

***

 

Of course, my eagerness to test the changes to my hide that the scar below my knee was supposed to bring didn’t mean that I would let the young male bite me just for the hell of it. First of all, he wouldn’t like it. Second, my inner beast wouldn’t take it lying down either. This was training, a bout I went into every time with the intention of winning - even though I knew it was next to impossible.

And so, as always, I danced to that deadly rhythm, pushing myself to the limit for as long as I could, prodding at the beast here and there. There’s no better way to describe my attacks. Even if I drew blood and cut the skin with my claws, it meant nothing to the Young Mossbear.

In contrast, when I was too slow to dodge the male’s claws, they cut deep.

Or they were supposed to.

This time, his claws, sharp as they were, only skimmed over my skin, pressing the flesh underneath. But aside from the torn fur and the pink, bloody scratches, they didn’t leave any major damage on my flank. Admittedly, it was not the hardest hit I had ever endured. Still . . .

The difference left me speechless.

Not for long, though.

I mean, when Young Mossbear pounced again, and I was even slower in my amazement, he didn’t have the slightest trouble getting his claws through my hide. The noticeable difference was still there, though. With the scar, my skin was a little more resistant to piercing. Thrilled as I was when it came to being healed by Mother Mossbear after inevitably getting mauled by the young male, I asked her again to leave the scars.

And tits, the resistances were stacking up.

 

***

 

By the end of the day, or rather, when the end of our training came a few hours later, my body was covered in scars. Not so noticeable under the fur in my beast form, but unmissable when I walked around as a bare-assed human under the Idleaf’s leafy crown.

Still, damn.

The Young Mossbear was unable to inflict any injury on me with his claws, and his teeth only pierced my skin when my bones were already shattering under the force of his jaws. A flaw in an otherwise wonderful skill. It was as if . . . as if I was an egg or a pillow. The shell was firm, but the insides, despite my [Constitution], were still soft and squishy.

Something for [Unbending Resilience] to deal with, I guessed.

Another thing was that even though the strength of the scars stacked up, the yield diminished and varied from scar to scar. If I had to say, as the skill description spoke, the scars were stories of how I came to have them, of my prowess. And what covered my body now were pages telling pretty much the same tale from different perspectives, depicting one perfect story. 

But there was the rub. Only one story to tell.

Where was the resistance to acids, heat, cold, magic and more? If I wanted them all, I wouldn’t be able to see a piece of my skin for all the scars.

And so, in the end, I decided to keep the most powerful one: the first one that told of my encounter with this Young Mossbear. There were beasts out there and humans whose claws or blades could give me more benefits in the form of scars than a hundred here.

“Not a call everyone would make, I must say,” Sah spoke as I emerged from Mother Mossbear’s mossy embrace, my skin unblemished except for a scar below my left knee. “I know few, even women, one a [Berserker Warrior], who looked worse than you the last time I saw her.

I understood a long while ago that [Wrought Hide] wasn’t a unique skill, or rather, the Tier IV of the skill wasn’t exclusive to me. The system took the knowledge of our ancestors, both those who died thousands of years ago and those who died recently - or even those who were still alive - and presented it to me in a format tailored to me, my needs . . . and my wishes. At least that’s what I choose to believe was the reason for Tier V of the skill and a few others.

As Mr. Sandoval once told me, human strivings had more influence on the system than they thought. Besides, the system was supposed to be a guide, and as with guides, you should be able to tell it where you want it to take you, even beyond directing the system through class and skill selection.

Be that as it may, I put on a shirt and shorts, walked over to Sah and sat down next to him. “I’m not everyone, you know.”

“I didn’t say that, Grey. Just that many would choose strength and sacrifice looks.”

“Even you?”

“There’s a fine line. In my line of work, I can’t afford to have people intimidated just by glancing at me.”

“Are you serious?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Those question marks alone will do that.”

“Unfortunately,” Sah said with a sigh. “Not the reputation Imperial Agents were supposed to have. The organization was founded with an idea similar to your position. We were to be seen as the protectors of the Empire, the Guardians of Sahal.”

“Only working in the shadows.”

“Yes. Not everyone can wield a shining sword on the battlefield or bring down fire from the sky by weaving mana. You know that yourself, Grey.”

That I did. Even thousands of years ago, people specialized in professions regardless of the system, the same on Earth.

“Besides, not all deeds need to be seen to have an impact, the same with scars. I dare say that the scar on one’s heart will have a far greater consequence than the one on one’s skin.

“I don’t think my skill allows for that,” I pointed out, checking the description of [Wrought Hide].

“And that’s not even what I meant. Although the physical scars deep inside can be quite dangerous as well.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so philosophical, Sah.” I said when I realized he was talking about scars from traumas - scars on the soul. And indeed, those could have had an enormous impact. The scarring of my womb was a good example. While mostly gone now, the same could not be said for the toll it left on me. 

“I am many things, Grey,” Agent Sah said, a roguish smile flashing across his face before he turned serious again. “Anyway, enough about me. Check your stats and let’s go see your mentor. I think he’s finished his training here as well.”

My ears perked up. The woods were indeed quiet.

»Your teacher waiting near Idleaf’s trunk. Care of your moss.« Mother Mossbear grumbled before getting up and walking away.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I relayed what the massive mossbear had said to Sah and looked at my stats. This training might not have resulted in the same amount of changes as sparring with Deckard, but now that I knew what I was capable of, the system was showing me new ways to improve. Tier IV and V of [Wrought Hide] were great examples of that, and so was the new tier of [Tail of Poison Empress].

Not the only two skills I reached new heights in, though.

 

Name: Korra’leigh Grey

Race: Human/Beast

Gender: Female

Age: 29 → 30

Main Class: Deviant of Humanity

Sub Class: Slave

Level: 148 → 153

[Unspent Stat Points: 31]

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STATS

Constitution:  152 → 266 (41) 

Strength: 135 (30)

Endurance: 78 (29)

Dexterity: 67 (28)

Intelligence: 76 (17)

Wisdom: 46 (14)

.

CLASS SKILLS (8/8):

Indomitable Will (Passive VI): lvl 167 → 170

Behemoth (Active III): lvl 38 → 40

Wrought Hide (↑Passive V↑): lvl 93 → 112

Unbending Resilience (↑Passive V↑): lvl 88 → 106

Mantle of Magic (Active III): lvl 38 → 49

Ride of Ancestors (Active V): lvl 107 → 118

Call of Nature (↑Passive V↑): lvl 94 → 102

Beast Core: (Passive III): lvl 32 → 45

.

GENERAL SKILLS (10/10):

Perfect Equilibrium (Passive V): lvl 113 → 121

Spatial Domain (Passive V): lvl 127 → 137

Beast (Passive VI): lvl 175 → 189

Never-Dying (↑Passive V): lvl 143 → 149

Tail of Poison Empress (↑Active III↑): lvl 27 → 44

Heart of Magic (Passive III): lvl 58 → 59

Striving Mule (Passive V): lvl 136 → 147

Dancer’s Stride (Passive V): lvl 120 → 148

None to Squander (Passive III): lvl 38 → 43

Roundhouse Kick (Active I): lvl 7

 

“Damn!” Whenever I looked at my stats, I couldn’t help but marvel. For over eight months, the numbers hadn’t changed, and now . . . I was at a damned level 153, had 31 unused stat points, and had no idea what to do with them.

There was a time for everything, or so they said. Just a fancy excuse to put it off until later.

Anyway, [Unbending Resilience]. 

What I was hoping for didn’t come with the new tier, at least not in the form I was expecting.

 

Unbending Resilience: lvl 106

Passive IV → Passive V (Slave - 10%)

As fierce as you can be, you’re even harder to kill than you first appear. Driven by your rich nature, your robustness reaches unprecedented heights, making you an unstoppable force to be reckoned with.

The [resilience], [toughness], and [vitality] of your body increased by 110%(100%) → 154%(140%).

Tier II - Many have tried to rob you of it, and you had suffered plenty when your life was threatened to be taken from you. Yet you didn’t give in and instead connected more with your rich nature, bringing even more from your ancestry, and making your health even more robust.

Your [Constitution] increased by 77%(70%) → 110%(100%).

Tier III - Ripped, cut, bitten, no matter what befalls your tender flesh, remaining unbroken is what matters. After all, it's easier to regenerate a torn muscle or a bitten-off spleen than a severed leg. You figured it out, and your body learned it the hard way, adapted, and gave you a way to not worry too much about such a trifle.

Your bones and tendons are twice as resilient and tough as the rest of your body

Tier IV - Each fiber of your being, from sinew to bone, resonates with a density that mirrors the trials and hardships you endured through battles, emerging as an unbreakable bastion against the onslaught of harm.

The density of your cells reflects your weight.

Tier V - No matter how high your resilience may reach, there always seems to be an opponent strong enough to wreck your body lying in wait for you around the next corner. To get past the limits of what your body can take so you can face what life throws at you, it is essential to use everything at your disposal. The mana your body abounds in is one such thing.

You are able to mitigate up to 20% of damage with mana.

 

Honestly, the first time I tried it, the loss of mana took my breath away. The damage mitigation took more than I bargained for. On the other hand, once I got used to it, I found it quite convenient. Alas, for someone who didn’t know magic too well, my mana consumption in combat rivaled that of a master mage. 

An exaggeration, of course. Still . . . if I didn’t have the heart I had, the core . . . if I wasn’t a magical creature through and through, I would have serious problems sustaining my skills.

That was where the new tier of [Nature Call] shone. Seriously, it was as if the system sensed my needs and offered me a way to deal with my shortcomings. Be that as it may, a coincidence or simply the result of using the system the right way, I was not one to complain.

 

Call of Nature: lvl 102

Passive IV → Passive V (Deviant - 30%)

No matter how it came to be, you're more than a mere human torn from your roots. Connected to your nature stronger than any beast, you can call it to its full potential. Whether it's a human or beast trait, it will be 84%(65%) → 123%(95%) more prominent, and if you were to use the talents you've been pursuing to acquire, you'd find them 130%(100%) → 169%(130%) more powerful.

Tier II - To embrace our nature, what we are, is nothing to be ashamed of but hard for many to do. You've done more than that and revel in nature of your own. For that, you'll find using your talents 58%(45%) → 84%(65%) easier.

Tier III - One's nature is something not easily hidden, weighing on the mind even if veiled from the eyes of your kind no less than the thoughts of theirs regarding the nature you have chosen to embrace. You have risen above the petty ones of your kind, unmindful of their dark thoughts toward you, unencumbered by the regrets of your own being, and therefore you find the burden on your mind regarding your nature 39%(30%) → 58%(45%) lighter.

Tier IV - As the bond between your dual nature solidifies the essence of humanity and the essence of the wild intermingle within you, resonating with a potency that echoes through every fiber of your being.The boundaries that once separated these aspects blur and intertwine, forging an identity that blurs the lines between both worlds even to you.

No longer is it possible to separate the two or for the two to be separated.

Tier V - With your dual nature as one you find yourself in an unprecedented ease, not torn between two, but coexisting along. What was once a chore is now a natural thing for you and thus not so taxing.

 

Not many words and even fewer numbers, yet the effect was hard to miss. Though the system did not see fit to show me more of my potential until the second to last round with Young Mossbear, it was enough to see how much smoother my movements and use of mana had become.

Garan and Vienlin talked about how the more I get in touch with my inner beasts, the more natural it will be for me to move in my beast form. But I never thought it would make such a difference. If I had to compare it to anything, I would say I feel ten years younger.

“Someone’s happy,” Sah remarked on my wagging tail. 

“You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all. Just given the situation . . . forget it. Are you ready to go or . . .”

“I am. Let’s go.” There was a time to face the beast like a mossbear, and there was a time to face the beast in terms of stat point distribution. And the time for the latter has not yet come.