Chapter 29 - A time of peace

  The path of a Shifter is a difficult one. At time of writing it is recommended to enter council duty at level 50 at the earliest. This is due to the large requirements this path has in terms of Stats and Skill-level. Especially as the specialisation of [Internal Mana Manipulation] is one that is highly antithetical to the celestian nature and general education. All Values in this Guide assume said specialisation, if one attempts this path with a more generalised skill, standard conversion rules apply.

  Now you may ask: Why would I choose this Path? The answer is simple. Versatility. Not only is combat-shapeshifting a Skill that translates to civilian life incredibly well, but it also offers a sublime breadth of application in combat, warfare, espionage, sabotage, infiltration, transport, logistics and many more. These claims seem outrageous, but I am in no way less than empirical about these findings.

  In the first half of this Guide, I will demonstrate the benefits of this Path with my case study, The Shifter a.k.a. Randy Randelman a.k.a. James of the Atanian depths. He may have had some significant advantages, however I made sure to scale the challenges accordingly, as is required of any celestian case study.

  For more information on the scientific basis of this guide, please refer to the celestian council archives.

  -Path of the Shifter: A Class guide. Written by Valeria the Exiled

  I could do my routine. And I did. An entire month of a regular schedule. One that pushed at my limits and left me exhausted in every sense of the word, but a routine nonetheless.

  After one week I managed to cover a limb in a mana lattice for an hour. I managed to shoot my blades out of my arms with some force. Skadi managed to make a human arm. It was a good week. I had a few more dates with Emma, I think I was falling for her a bit, then again we were barely even adults, so who knows what that really was. I sure as all hells didn’t, but I didn’t care. I was happy. I liked that.

  On the topic of adulthood, my 18th birthday was in week two, which is why I allowed a vanity project to be my focus. I managed to shift my skin to the point that it looked like clothes. Fur was easy enough to replicate, but leather took a few days. Metal was beyond me still. However I finally wasn’t naked anymore. Ok, I was technically naked, but I did finally look like I wore clothes.

  The mana defences progressed with some good pace, I managed to cover both arms and the shoulders for three hours. Skadi was ahead of me on that front. She could cover her entire torso for five hours. Val said she was almost ready to properly test the lattice, knowing Val, the ‘proper test’ won’t be pleasant.

  I had a chat with Val this week.

  “Hey Val, how come you never taught me proper form when fighting?”

  She gave me a patronising look: “Look, not every smart sounding sound-bite is actually wisdom.’You can impale yourself when you’ve proven you don’t need it’ isn’t as smart as it sounds.” I tried not to laugh at her George impression. “I know, I am hilarious. One of my many skills.” The both of us had a good chuckle at that. “But seriously, ‘You can use fancy technique, when you’ve proven you don’t need it’ is just as valid. You have a very unique style, by its nature, you’ll never find someone to teach you their way. And you don’t necessarily need to. If you want, you can try to make a proper technique out of your unique style, but that’s your choice. I didn’t teach you any specific technique, because there isn’t a fighting school for shapeshifters like you.” Interesting. It made sense, but I still wanted to better my foundations. Although what she said about making my own style stuck with me.

  Val’s POV:

  Good point! I should make room for a chapter about fighting styles. Ever since Val had made the decision to write her Guide, she was overflowing with Ideas. Right now she was re-structuring the book in her mind for the 82nd time. She was having trouble, since there had not been any scientific advancement in Paths for her entire life. None on the level she was thinking off. This would be the first Guide in centuries to have to justify its own existence.

  She smiled inwardly. She would show those stuck-up losers that she wasn’t ‘unhinged’, ‘dangerous’ or ‘a shame for their noble kind’. So what if her methods were unorthodox? She would bring results. Results like none of her peers had ever presented in centuries.

  She thought about the discussion at her exile hearing. They had not even understood their own rules.

  ‘Any case study must be tested against power of equal or greater might, not necessarily against equal level.’

  She agreed wholeheartedly. But not with the council’s interpretation. Clearly this rule isn’t to restrict research to typical subjects. It is meant to make sure the strongest specimen are tested against even more dangerous odds. What is the point of scientific study, if you don’t go to the frontier of current understanding and beyond? How are you supposed to push knowledge beyond its barriers otherwise? She knew the council’s answer. By making the tiniest steps possible and not hurt anyone in the process. Val scoffed at that prospect. She would not be surprised if she had made more progress with James in a few months than all her peers had made since her exile, combined. Only the hottest flames may create the strongest steel. And James … She would forge him in the heart of a star.

  James’ POV:

  In week three the training with George finally bore fruit. When … no, this one needs more details. Ahem.

  George had beaten me for the third time today. The current exercise was a one hit challenge. The first one to touch the enemy’s torso or head with their hands, would win. Technically it was a game of tag, but we still did it like a brawl. He would always win at these. I could evade and force him into the defensive a bunch, but I could never catch him. Then I got a notification.

  The Eldritch influence was rearing its ugly head once again. But this was what I had trained for. Sort of. Let’s not kid ourselves. I had to know what they would give me. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have agreed as well.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked at my skill screen to make sure.

  Now the skill looked different. I pulled up the Description for it again.

  OK, still ominous, but significantly less so. I quickly checked my memory. What little knowledge I had of knife combat and Archery were gone. Also all the fighting instincts. On the other hand, my perspective had shifted significantly. I finally understood what had been holding me back all this time. I was still fighting like a human. A human with extra bits, like claws, but a human nonetheless. Why should I? I am not a human. Even my status screen agrees.

  Why should I fight like them? What makes me unique is my talent at forming my flesh. Why should I not use my talents as a weapon, instead of using them to create weapons?

  I laid on the floor for a while, staring at my hand. I could hear my heart beating, George panting, Ursuns moving around the Village. I blocked them all out.

  What was movement? Changing the location of something? Yes. But also No. It was more than that. I dove down deeper. Looking at the movements beneath my skin, as I flexed my hand.

  What was movement to me? Using muscles to change the physical location of myself? Yes. But that was not enough. I abstracted.

  What do I do, when I move? I let my will become reality by the medium of my body. Yes! That is it. As it pertains to everything beneath my skin, I am in complete control. In that sense I simply let my will become reality. I will my hand to become a fist. With a flex of my fingers it becomes reality. I will my knuckles to grow spikes. With a flex of my mind it also becomes reality. But what is the difference between the two? Was there one? There had been, but I was struggling to find one now. Both are just a function of will and exertion. Why would it not be?

  The only thing standing between what is and what I will is how much I am willing to exert myself.

  I stood up and smiled at George. I finally knew what to do.

  “Round 4?” I asked.

  “So eager? Had a breakthrough?” I was shocked

  He let out a hearty laugh: “Ha! Don’t be surprised. I’ve seen dozens of people through basic training. Getting an Inspiration after a beating is not news to me.”

  I guess that made sense. Anyway, we brawled again. I had no reason for thinking this would work against him, except that I knew that it would.

  We started off like usual. Circling around one another, looking for a mistake to take advantage of. A stumble, a moment of distraction, stuff like that. As always George was the first to see something and pounce. I had looked to the side for a moment, which was the instant George needed to get in a good swing at my side. I pushed off the ground in the opposite direction, but it was too little too late. He would hit me and it would be over.

  Except there was nothing to hit. My flesh had receded all the way to my ribs, giving me just enough extra room for my evade to work.

  George stood and smiled. “That was new, but it won’t be enough.” He rushed me once more. This time trying to overwhelm me. He threw punch after punch from odd, sometimes impossible seeming, angles. That would usually do the trick, however now my arms were just a bit wider, or longer, or bent a bit weirdly just as I needed it. This felt amazing. It didn’t even hurt, as usual shapeshifting does. I simply willed my flesh to move and it did. It felt exhilarating, like I had found the way I was meant to fight. Where there had been excruciating pain before, it now felt like I was simply exerting a muscle. Moving flesh felt like a challenging workout, moving bone was more like lifting something just on the cusp of too heavy.

  The Skill had told the truth. Shifting felt no different from moving. I could flex a muscle to extend my arm, just as much as I could will my arm to lengthen. I flowed around George’s attacks. He never could get anything but my arms. I was having the time of my life.

  And then he swept me off my feet, because I tried to respond to his move by making my legs malleable.

  I instantly collapsed.

  That one is a lesson for everyone: Don’t mess with your foundations, or you will collapse.

  I was sore all over. Not the universal soul-searing pain of rapid shapeshifting, but more the feeling after an intense workout. I was panting heavily, of course, but so was George and that was a victory in my book.

  Not in his though. “Nice trick. Shame you’re an Idiot.” He gave me a whole lecture about legwork. I won’t bore you with the details. “I have to say though: That trick, if properly trained, will make you a terrifyingly unpredictable opponent. Let’s continue this tomorrow, shall we? I am exhausted after that last fight.” Success!!

  We did, in fact, continue the next day. And the next. And so one. I got my first win in our match by day four. I managed to divert a swing of his a hair farther off course, than he expected, due to my arm stretching that much wider. Then I used him being slightly off balance to jab at his jaw. He moved his head back, to avoid the hit, of course, but I still tagged him, due to stretching my fingers out a bit more than should be possible.

  Boy, was he miffed. He was fuming for hours afterwards. I supposed he really wasn’t used to not completely dominating his students until a few years into training. Or maybe he found my abilities to be unfair, which would have been true, but I never pretended to be fair.

  We continued with our training for the rest of the month. In fact, we continued for the next month too. George was still whooping my behind most of the time, but that was ok, I got him in one of four bouts these days. In fact my [Shifter] Skill had risen to 30. Overall solid progress. The other fronts were progressing as well.

  Skadi had gotten all her whole body into a human form, except for her head.

  I had managed to cover my torso, arms and head in a mana lattice, which I could maintain for 6 hours by then.

  My ranged blade-shooting had gone as far as I was able to go at this point. I had maximised the safe pressure I could build up, it was reasonably precise, had a good range and enough force to comfortably pierce any hide I’d encountered so far.

  Lastly my relationship with Emma was going fantastically. I couldn’t stop smiling whenever I saw her, and she seemed to be just as smitten with me, as far as I could tell. Also she had given me my first nine out of ten. Everything was going great!

  Valeria’s POV:

  Everything was going great. James had performed within the upper edges of Valeria’s predictions. So far that is. His performance had slightly dropped, as he became more infatuated with that village girl. Unfortunate, but not a deal-breaker. Also to be expected.

  Val shook her head and smiled. Almost in complete control of his body, yet still ruled by his hormones. Oh, well. She couldn’t argue against him getting off in principle. Handlers who overworked their charges and denied them R&R usually ended up with shattered people in the long run. That can be useful for creating soldiers, but Valeria was aiming higher than a simple weapon. She would create something truly great. Actually that reminded her of a joke a colleague told her some four centuries ago: A Celestian and a Bear walk into a tavern …

  Ding!

  A mental alert had gone off in her mind. She checked on her scrying web. 722B had gone off. She made sure to double check, but it was true, sadly enough. That Cunt! What am I going to do now? I need a distraction, or better yet a Calamity. Something untraceable … Something devastating … Something only a select few would survive. Maybe if I … No, that would lead back to me. Except if I time it perfectly. The Ward is up for renewal in a week.

  She paused for 20 milliseconds.

  Maybe James will just happen to have a breakthrough that will distract me in just the right moment. For just a moment. Yes, perfect! Plausible deniability, even if someone traced it back to me. Perfect. With the Plan set, Valeria made preparations to lead James into the right position, for him to play his part. She would be damned if she let such a promising monster be swallowed up by domesticity.