by Neven Iliev
It already confirmed that the gemstone sucked up magic like an overly aggressive sponge, but it was curious to what extent. It tried dropping the gem in a cup of healing potion, which immediately turned the alchemical liquid into a brown-tinted liquid whose only discernable effect was the taste of rust. Feeling slightly emboldened, it took a risk and blasted it with Acid Spray Skill. The caustic liquid evaporated just before touching the gem. The shapeshifter continued to carry out a bunch of similarly unscientific experiments that at some point devolved into doing random stuff just to see what would happen.
At some point, Boxxy grew bored of rubbing the shiny gem against anything vaguely magical and decided to compile what it had learned, which wasn’t a lot. It knew that Pinky aggressively absorbed any magic it came in contact with, making it impossible to analyze its properties through Appraisals. It was worth noting that it had no effect on more stable forms of magic such as enchantments woven into items, the conjured flesh of its familiars, or the interdimensional space of its Storage. Last but not least, it was pink and really, really shiny.
This was the extent of Boxxy’s discoveries. It had no idea what Pinky was made out of, where it came from, who created it, or for what purpose. The monster felt like it had wasted much of its precious alone time and was just about to call it quits for the night when it had an idea. It was so focused on how the gemstone absorbed magical energy that it didn’t stop to think about why it was doing it. It hadn’t noticed the thing discharge any of the mana it was sucking in, which implied it was somehow storing it. Was it perhaps a mechanism similar to how the dungeon cores collected and harvested ambient mana? It seemed rather obvious in retrospect, but if Pinky had a finite capacity for magic energy, then wouldn’t fully charging it do… something?
It certainly was worth a try, so Boxxy channeled its MP into it as if it were any other magic item. The gemstone eagerly soaked it all up until the shapeshifter was left dry and dizzy. Only then did it show signs of ‘life.’ It was minuscule, but the shapeshifter could definitely see a tiny bit of light emitting from the gem. This was promising, although it seemed it would take a much more significant power source than Boxxy to fully charge the deceptively little thing. Thankfully, the shapeshifter knew just who to turn to.
“Ambrosia,” it called out.
The dryad had been happily observing Boxxy’s ‘play time’ from the sidelines when she was called. She responded in her usual manner, standing in front of the shapeshifter and gracefully bowing.
“Yes, milord?”
“You’re good at manipulating mana, right? Can you pump this shiny thing full of it?”
“I am not certain, though ‘tis possible. Does milord wish for me to try?”
“Yeah. Here, take it.”
The dryad’s slender hands reached towards Boxxy’s outstretched tentacle and gently grabbed hold of the precious stone. She placed it in her open palm and stared at it intently. Nothing seemed to happen at first, but after several seconds the pink gem’s tiny inner light suddenly grew in intensity.
“‘It would appear that I am indeed capable of infusing this bauble with mine mana, milord,” she declared. “However, ‘tis more difficult than expected.”
“Difficult how?”
“I sense that this object’s size belies its inner capacity. The ‘opening’ through which the mana must flow is inadequate for the volume it can hold, much like thy attempts to empty mine bosom of its nectar.”
“But you can fill it up all the way?”
“Verily,” she confirmed. “It would just take some time.”
“Do it.”
“Then I shall begin forthwith.”
Ambrosia turned her attention back to the jewel and began pumping it full of mana. Boxxy watched with anticipation as the pink gem steadily grew whiter and brighter. At some point it also increased in size. At first the change was barely perceptible, but over time it grew to nearly twice as big as it used to be. Boxxy watched all of this transpire with an eager curiosity before it remembered something. It had, in fact, seen something else behave in an almost identical way. It was months ago, at a time when it was still a brainless mimic, so it wasn’t sure whether it could trust its memories.
Still, it was probably a good idea to make absolutely sure whether this and that were related or not.
“Ambrosia, could you please stop what you’re doing for a bit?” it asked politely yet urgently.
“As you will, milord.”
By this point, the gem was almost completely white, with only faint traces of pink. The light it gave off was so intense that it bordered on blinding. Considering the implications of those visual cues, it was safe to assume that the item was nearly charged to capacity.
“Exactly how much MP did you put into that?” the monster inquired
“About forty-two thousand,” Ambrosia casually answered.
“... That’s more than twice the dungeon core’s capacity, right?”
“Thou art correct.”
“And yet this thing is many times smaller, isn’t it?”
“‘Tis so.”
“Also isn’t it buzzing slightly, now that I think about it?”
“Indeed, milord.”
Boxxy had very limited experience regarding shiny things that soaked up mana like a thirsty dwarf floating in a lake of beer. In fact, it only knew of a single object that displayed similar properties. One that had absorbed half a dungeon’s worth of mana, grew to twice its size, and then started glowing and giving off weird noises. In fact, if one were to ignore the difference in shape, size, and coloration, then this pink gem was behaving in almost exactly the same manner as that.
“Is something the matter, milord?”
“Uhm, yeah… Let’s just forget about the glow-y thing, shall we?”
Boxxy took the gem from Ambrosia and carefully put it somewhere safe, then started preparing for its imminent Rank Up.
It could have gone further, but satisfying its curiosity wasn’t worth the risk of recreating the Calamity of Monotal with its dungeon as ground zero.
Part Six
Boxxy woke up the next day in the depths of its personal dungeon. It felt the distinct, hard ground against its back and something soft and warm against the back of its head. The second part was a bit strange. It hadn’t set out a pillow or anything of the sort when it initiated the Rank Up process last night, nor had its preparations involved anything of the sort. Snack, for example, was told to assume Keira’s identity should the shapeshifter not wake up in time. It was a precaution in case something went wrong, though the monster doubted its necessity. After all, according to Reggie’s claims about doppelgangers, Boxxy should have been out for three and a half hours at most, awaking before dawn. Although Snack seemed a bit suspicious of those words considering their source, her Master had very good reason to believe the ‘ganger capo hadn’t lied.
For starters, Reggie was fully aware of the consequences of double-crossing Boxxy. This instance had the potential to cause some serious setbacks to the latter’s plans. If the ‘real’ Keira vanished without a trace for days or even weeks, that particular Facade would come under serious jeopardy. Whether Boxxy was able to salvage it or not, it would make sure to ruin Reggie’s life in every way imaginable as payback. The other side had a lot more to lose if things play out that way, and almost nothing to gain in return. That sort of pragmatic self-interest was the sort of motivation Boxxy trusted more than flighty concepts like honor, good will, or personal code.
However, if that was the case, then why did the clock next to the shapeshifter claim it was early noon? For that matter, why was its head resting in Ambrosia’s lap while the dryad’s incredibly content face looked down at it? And why in the world did it feel a bizarre craving for sunshine?
Most of its questions were answered moments later by a series of notifications that appeared in the monster’s mind.
[Rank up complete.]
[Congratulations! Your species has become Creeper (Hylt).
]
[The maximum Level of your Doppelganger Job has been increased to 50.]
[Proficiency level increased. Phytokinesis is now Level 1. MNT +3. AFF +3.]
“... The fuck?” it muttered reflexively.
“Good ‘morrow, milord,” Ambrosia responded to its voice. “Did thou sleep well?”
“The fuck?!” the monster repeated itself, much louder this time. It scrambled to its feet, scampering away from the startled dryad.
“Milord?! Is something the matter?”
“Yes, something’s the matter!” it spat back. “Just- Just stay there and don’t touch me. I need to figure out what’s going on.”
“If thou wishes it...”
Boxxy ignored the sulking plant-lady and quickly inspected its own body.
The Rank Up had reverted the creature to its true form which sported a series of changes. So far so good – it expected as much. For starters, it had grown considerably. While its body maintained its slender proportions, its height had increased. Before it was as tall as a pre-teen human, but it now stood at a height normal for a fifteen-year-old male youth. This was rather unfortunate because Keira was shorter than its new self. Boxxy would need to compact its flesh to assume its Facade rather than expand it. This was an issue since its body mass was significantly dense to begin with as a result of the Biomass Skill. Compressing it even further was… uncomfortable. Thankfully, it wouldn’t have to bear it for long. Keira was young enough to be considered a developing girl, so it wouldn’t be strange if she underwent a growth spurt. Boxxy merely had to increase her height in slight, barely noticeable increments.
However, its new size was the least of the shapeshifter’s worries at the moment. The second and far more distressing change concerned its skin. Its pigmentation was several shades lighter, bringing it from a pitch-black to a dull gray. On top of the color shift, there were several strange growths protruding from its flesh. These were located on the back of its hands, the roof of its feet, the tip of its elbows, the front of its knees, and the top of its shoulders. The patches of flesh were hardened, brown, and coarse, resembling a sapling’s bark rather than skin. The upside was that they were more flexible than they appeared. They neither limited the creature movements nor did they feel unnatural or numb.
Boxxy didn’t think of it at first, but it soon discovered that it could transform those barky-bits with as much ease as the rest of its body. It could erase the odd growths with a thought, but doing so was, in essence, no different from slipping into Keira’s skin. Relaxing its transformation would make the brown patches pop back out like it was the most natural thing in the world. In short, the plant-like parts were a permanent and somewhat unwelcome addition to its body. The monster was a bit bothered by their presence, but it could get used to them with a bit of time.
Just then, Boxxy had a rather curious thought – what would happen if it tried ‘pulling’ instead of ‘pushing?’
The newly-awoken shapeshifter brought its right hand up to its non-existent face and stared intently at its open palm. A few breaths later, the greenish brown bark covering its backhand began to spread. It enveloped its palm and fingers, encroached on its wrist, steadily crawled its way up its forearm, past the elbow, and all the way up to the shoulder. It wasn’t simply a skin-deep transformation as Boxxy’s limb had completely turned into a wooden branch, both inside and out. Beautiful flowers, small vines, and thin branches covered in leaves grew out of it as the creature curiously explored this newfound ability. It had been capable of adopting the appearance of wood since its birth, but this was a step further. It was creating honest-to-goodness timber from its flesh. In a flash of inspiration, it mimicked parts of Ambrosia’s inner workings with the help of its MLG, allowing its limbs to move freely while maintaining their wooden disposition.
“Oh, my word!” the dryad squealed in delight. “Milord can grow thy own flowers?! How wondrous!”
“... You!” growled Boxxy. “You did this, didn’t you?!”
Its moment of wanderlust had passed, causing the shapeshifter to remember that whatever was going on was clearly outside its plans and expectations. If this slutty overgrown vegetable had somehow forced this change on the shapeshifter without its knowledge or consent, then Boxxy would seriously consider detonating Pinky within her insides. Even if dryads were both immortal and indestructible, that was only true for as long as their tree survived. An explosion of magic capable of wiping out a whole town would surely not fail to do the same to Ambrosia should she fail to explain herself.
“Whatever doth thou mean, milord?”
Naturally, the accused wouldn’t readily admit to any wrongdoing.
“It’s your fault I turned out like this, isn’t it?!”
“Like what?”
“Like what?” Boxxy repeated in disbelief. “Like! What?! Look at me! I Ranked Up into some bizarre half-plant half-monster thing! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”
“I assure you, milord, I had no intention of meddling in thy Rank Up,” she calmly claimed. “To begin with, I have no idea what form of creature thou truly are.”
“But you can control other plants!”
“’Tis so, but milord was not such before, nor art thou one now.”
“Well- You still seemed oddly happy about this whole thing!”
“Of course, I would be happy seeing milord’s growth. What mother would not be overjoyed to see their offspring develop into something closer to herself?”
“Mother? Offspring?”
The unexpected words blunted Boxxy’s rage, and it didn’t particularly enjoy the worrying implications.
“Indeed. Though milord arrived within mine trunk from beyond, I have cared for thee as if thou had sprouted from mine own seeds.”
“But… But why, though?”
“Raising thee is a source of much joy and fulfillment for mine lonely self.”
The shapeshifter felt a tinge of relief at those words. It would appear it misunderstood Ambrosia’s behavior. The dryad had been treating it the way she had not out of some misguided sense of lust, but out of an equally questionable parental obligation. Boxxy felt silly for assuming the nature of her apparent affections was sexual. Then again, it could hardly be blamed for concluding as such. Every monster-girl the shapeshifter had encountered had been, objectively speaking, both nubile and perverted in their own way. This was especially true of the demonic trio, but hardly limited to them. Given Ambrosia’s outrageously voluptuous appearance, it was only natural to expect she would crave some sort of sexual gratification.
Boxxy was glad that at least one of the females in its life was not a degenerate motivated by baser instincts. It also wouldn’t complain that the powerful entity saw it as an adoptive child – something to be cared for and protected. However, none of that alleviated its suspicions. If anything, it only made them seem more plausible, so it decided to press the matter a bit further.
“If you claim to have done nothing, then why was my head in your lap when I woke up?”
“I just felt like it.”
“You felt like it?”
“I was maintaining vigil over milord’s rest, just as thou requested. Then I noticed a strangely familiar sensation coming from within thee. I approached thee out of wonder and somehow ended up cradling thy fruit-shaped noggin in mine lap. It just seemed the most natural thing to do at the time.”
“Uh, huh. Come to think of it, why have you been so touchy-feely with me ever since I came back. What’s that about?”
Boxxy wasn’t particularly bothered by the extra attention, but it didn’t care for it, either. Furthermore, it felt some of her actions went beyond what one would consider normal in the context of a mother-child relationship. Admittedly, Boxxy was only vaguely aware of how a mother would act, and it was doubtful whether that limited knowledge applied to a millennia-old tree-woman. However, the monster decided to use this opportunity to try and figure out exactly what was going on in that vegetable brain of hers.
&
nbsp; “I simply wish to spoil milord while I am able to. That is all.”
“What is? What do you mean by ‘while you are able to?’”
“... Milord will eventually leave me,” she spoke quietly. “Mayhap tomorrow. Mayhap in a month. Mayhap decades or even centuries from now, but thou will undoubtedly be separated from me by the passage of time. Thy recent absence had simply reminded me of this inevitability.”
“So, what, you got clingy because you missed me?”
“Indeed.”
“And how’s that going to solve anything?”
Ambrosia adopted a solemn smile that oozed with the melancholy and sadness of having to live through literal millennia of solitude.
“I wish to form as many pleasant memories with thee as possible. Thou art unique. Special. Extraordinary, even. Thy companionship, although brief, has filled me with a profound joy and happiness that I have not experienced before, nor will I experience since. It is a… ‘tasty’ feeling that I wish to preserve forever.”
She waved her hand towards one of the walls on the edge of the dungeon core platform, and the countless divine letters and words etched in it began glowing a bright, yellow light.
“‘Tis also why I have endeavored to carve said memories onto mine heartwood. So that I would not allow myself to forget. I am certain that, when the time comes, thy passing will most likely leave a deep wound on mine soul. Forgetting thee would probably help mine future self heal, but mine current self wishes to cherish every single moment I have spent in thy presence. That is the wish of this tree who hath lived too long – the wish of one who is forever destined to be the one left behind.”
Ambrosia put one foot slightly in front of the other and bent over with a twirl of her hands. It was a flawlessly elegant bow that even a refined lady of noble birth would have difficulty imitating.
“Therefore,” she continued while staring at the floor with eyes closed, “I beg for thy mercy and forgiveness regarding any transgression I may have committed against thee. I swear upon the Goddess that I truly meant thee no harm nor disrespect, and humbly request that thou allow me to continue serving thee as I have until now.”
