The air in the cave hung thick and heavy, a miasma of damp earth and something far more primal. Before setting off to confront the lingering threat of the Brats, Bathilda, with a swift mental command, activated her (Enhanced Echolocation).

  The familiar wave of sonic pulses painted a vivid, if grotesque, picture in her mind. A wave of nausea, cold and sharp, washed over her as she witnessed the scene. The five remaining Brats, their squat, muscular forms slick with gore, were engaged in a grisly feast. The object of their repast was the mangled remains of their fallen comrade, the one she had unintentionally dispatched with her venomous touch.

  A shiver, not entirely from revulsion, ran down her spine. Why are they eating the dead rat? Food can't be that scarce that they turn to cannibalism, right? They weren't eating each other before.

  The question hung in the air, unanswered, until a sudden, gnawing sensation reminded her of a more pressing concern. Since her abrupt and disorienting reincarnation, she hadn't consumed anything. A flicker of worry sparked within her.

  The thought of sustenance had been pushed aside by the immediate dangers and the overwhelming strangeness of her new existence. Now, however, the realization of her empty stomach loomed large. She scanned the cavern, her (Enhanced Echolocation) revealing a myriad of textures and shapes, but nothing that appealed to her newly formed palate.

  How long before the hunger pains kick in? she wondered. The prospect of starvation, a grim specter, joined the growing list of her anxieties. Bathilda resolved that procuring a reliable food source would be a priority, second only to dealing with the Brats.

  A sudden surge of excitement coursed through her. Oh, those skill points! she beamed, remembering the reward for her previous, albeit accidental, victory. I should spend them. But, how do I do that?

  She began experimenting, thinking of various commands. Skill Shop! Skill Tree! Skill Points!

  After a few attempts, a translucent window materialized before her, filled with a dizzying array of options. A sense of childlike wonder filled her as she mentally scrolled through the categories, the interface responding to her thoughts with seamless precision. That is pretty awesome.

  Like a child in a candy store, Bathilda lingered, exploring the vast catalogue of skills. Each entry was a tantalizing glimpse into the potential of her new life. She read descriptions of abilities that could enhance her senses, augment her strength, and even manipulate the very fabric of reality. The sheer breadth of possibilities was overwhelming, yet exhilarating.

  Finally, her attention was drawn to a category that resonated with her core desire: Healing. The descriptions of the spells and techniques within were nothing short of miraculous. Magic spells, real and tangible, capable of mending flesh, curing disease, and even reversing death. The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through her.

  Is that how I'll help people here, with magic? What happened to the bygone era of medicine? she wondered, her mind a mixture of awe and annoyance. The lack of information was another snub by God's harem. Still. Magic.

  That... Is... Awesome! Pa-chew. Pa-chew. I know that isn't the right sound, but who here is going to tell me any different? The Brats? I doubt it. They are going to become the fuel for my evolution, right after I spend these points.

  She spent an hour meticulously examining the healing section, her mind racing with the possibilities. But a frustrating reality soon became apparent. In the upper right corner of the window, a small box displayed the number "4." It was the only number that remained constant across all the categories, leading her to believe it represented her available skill points.

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  A wave of disappointment washed over her. She cursed her limited resources and the tantalisingly close, yet unattainable, spell she had attempted to purchase.

  Lesser Healing: 5 Skill Points – Heals minor wounds and stops bleeding. This spell is not effective on large wounds or infections.

  Cost: 5 mana

  The fact that she was one point short of acquiring such a vital ability was a cruel twist of fate. She vowed to remember the spell, to save it for a future purchase. The desire to hoard her points for a powerful healing spell was strong, but she knew she needed every advantage she could muster for her upcoming confrontation with the Brats.

  With a heavy heart, she moved past the healing section and continued her search. Eventually, she found a category labeled "Passive Skills." In which, she discovered several abilities that cost only a single skill point. After careful consideration, Bathilda spent all her points passive skills, each promising to enhance her chances of survival.

  Iron Body: Each level of this skill raises the user's defence by 5%.

  Swift Wing: Each level of this skill raises the user's movement speed by 5%.

  Identify: Each level of this skill adds more information to the user's field of view.

  (Identify), costing two points, was the most expensive of the trio, but Bathilda deemed it essential. The ability to discern the vital information about her opponents, particularly their health, would be invaluable in her hit-and-run tactics.

  With her purchases complete, Bathilda activated her (Enhanced Echolocation). The familiar wave of sonic pulses returned, but this time, it was bolstered by the newly acquired (Identify) skill. The information streamed into her mind, a torrent of data that painted a detailed picture of her surroundings.

  Cave wall, cave floor, cave wall, cave floor, roof, root, root, stone, Grickit, Brat, Brat, Brat...

  The litany went on, listing every object and creature within range, along with a brief description. The sheer volume of information was overwhelming, but Bathilda quickly adapted, filtering the data to focus on the most relevant details. She noted that she was indeed in a cave, a fact she had previously only suspected.

  What's a Grickit? she wondered, her attention drawn to the unfamiliar term. She scanned the cavern, her echolocation revealing a strange creature lurking in the shadows.

  Rising to her feet, her joints stiff from inactivity, Bathilda turned towards the pit where the Brats had feasted. A jolt of panic seized her as she realized she had been too complacent. Across the chasm, five silhouettes stood motionless, their crimson eyes glowing in the darkness. They had finished their macabre meal and were now focused on her, their prey.

  If not for her detection skill, she would have been caught completely unaware. Fortunately, her enhanced senses had alerted her to their presence. The Brats, unable to cross the chasm, were trapped on the other side, their frustration palpable.

  Ha! What are you going to do now, shitheads? she taunted, her clicks echoing across the cavern. She danced along the edge of the pit, reveling in her temporary safety. The Brats, their faces contorted in rage, snarled and hissed, their frustration growing with each passing moment.

  Suddenly, a blur of motion caught her attention. A labeled object, a (stone), hurtled through the air, striking her wing with a sharp impact. The taunting halted immediately, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. More stones followed, each one labeled as it flew, as Bathilda retreated down the tunnel.

  She rounded a corner, seeking refuge behind a bend in the passage. She paused, catching her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Even though she was out of sight, the Brats continued their barrage, hurling stones and debris into the tunnel. They could smell her, sense her presence, and they were determined to drive her out.

  The bombardment was relentless, a constant reminder of the danger lurking behind her. Bathilda realized that her initial plan had been thwarted. The Brats were now guarding the entrance to their nest, making a direct assault impossible. That meant she needed to come up with another plan.

  Reluctantly, she decided to explore the tunnel where the Millisnake had lived.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? she shuddered, steeling herself for the unknown. She turned and began to move deeper into the darkness, leaving the frustrated Brats behind.