Ambrose ducked under a bridge passing over the central waterway of Grimwater keep, slinking into the shadows to hide. It had been maybe a minute since she had escaped the chapel, yet already alarms had sounded across the keep and she could hear the men rushing to herd in people and close the main gates to the keep. The newly feline demi-human sighed deeply to herself, crouching and placing her hands on her knees.

  “Shoot… I didn't think this all the way through,” she said, putting her hands on her head and closing her eyes, her tail waving lazily behind her and keeping her balanced. “I could be accused of attacking members of the church and royal academy. I could be exiled! If not that, even worse, I could be… I could be…” Ambrose began to spiral, her thoughts following a dark trail of consequences for her insubordination. The only thing that saved her from self destructive pessimism was the sound of boots heavy crossing the bridge over her.

  Looking up, she couldn't see anything but the bottom of the stonework bridge, but she felt her ears perk up and follow the people walking over her.

  “What's going on Derek?! Talk to me, I don't get it. Was there an attack?!” A masculine voice asked, panting lightly. He must be following this Derek person at a pace faster than he was comfortable with, which interested Ambrose. She hadn't truly run out of breath since receiving her class. She didn't even really feel a little winded after her escape. Shouldn't a town guard have more stamina than a freshly ascended girl?

  “No. Not an attack, necessarily,” came back a smoother, calmer voice as the pair continued, but already, their voices were growing distant. Ambrose looked at the waterway she was hiding next to, following the walkway beside it with her eyes. There was one lowered work path beside the riverwalk that stretched in both directions along the river. If they made a sharp turn, she could possibly follow them and learn something.

  The only problems with that plan were the body of water between her and the other side, and the fact that it was still bright out. If anyone looked into the waterway she'd be easy to spot. White hair in broad daylight and a catgirl in a city full of humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, and gnomish would stand out like a sore thumb. Yet she still wanted to know what the plan was for handling her.

  “There's a woman with white hair who fled the church. The scion wishes to speak with her,” Derek continued, his voice growing further away by the second.

  Ambrose eyed the waterway and then made a choice. Wiggling her hips she took one step back, then launched herself in a horizontal leap across the 25 feet of waterway with such speed she nearly smashed herself into the wall face first for overcompensating with the power behind the leap. Writhing in midair, she managed to encounter the wall with the pads of her paws, rather than her face. Her legs bent with ease, absorbing the powerful landing and leaving her crouched on the wall for a moment as her momentum was absorbed. And she stretched like a slinky, using her hands to catch herself and cartwheel onto her feet on the walkway.

  She had successfully crossed, though she had done so far more loudly than she had intended, not knowing her own power. The wall landing had not been silent, a hard thud of something impacting the stone echoing off to the bridge and out. Immediately, the men talking above stopped and the man who had first spoken called out, “What was that?”

  “Under the bridge!” Derek shouted, likely alerting more people and moving faster than his companion. He slung himself off of the side of the bridge and onto the walkway. He was a large, well built man dressed in cheap leathers bearing the keep’s insignia and common clothing. An arming sword was strapped to his hip, set for a cross draw and he had a pointed heater shield on his other arm. He set quite the imposing figure, and the last thing that Ambrose wanted to do was fight an armed man like him with limited space in this situation.

  She turned before he could fully recover from his landing or draw his sword and ran in the opposite direction along the waterway. Pinning her ears back, she pumped her legs and put distance between them. She could hear him shouting, but couldn't focus on the words as she tore down the walkway. She was actually quite some distance from the bridge when instinct pulled her to duck. A line of arrows bit into the wall above her as she tumbled and slid to a stop on the walkway. An archer from the other side of the waterway, up on the raised riverwalk was nocking a fresh arrow and aiming at her.

  She pushed herself into a low crouch, rather than staying laid on the path where she'd ended up after evading the arrows, watching the archer so she could dodge, but she felt Derek closing in on her fast. She had no idea what option she had other than to fight, especially with more people incoming already from the commotion.

  “Do not shoot her! The scion wants her captured!” Derek shouted.

  Ambrose was forced to hop back as the archer adjusted his aim, firing at her legs rather than her body. His accuracy was nothing to disrespect, especially with how cornered she was. Derek didn't stop his charge as he closed in, bringing his heater into play and using it to ram past the arrow hafts in the wall, shattering them as he barreled at her.

  Ambrose ran at the wall, kicking up it and over his head, only to be forced into a tight jerking maneuver halfway up as the archer threatened the space above her with his arrows, keeping her trapped within Derek's range. As she fell, she felt a strong hand wrap around her tail and she yowled in discomfort as she was yanked down. Instinct pulled her to land on her feet, even as it twisted her tail, and she hit the ground in an awkward, pushup position. The man wasted no time getting his free arm around her waist and hauling her tight against his much larger body.

  Ambrose thrashed as he released her tail and pulled his shield arm around her chest, crushing her to him, grunting. Her thrashing seemed to test his strength as he grappled her, something she didn't think would be possible at her level, yet he seemed to genuinely be needing to use all of his formidable physique’s power to keep her pinned to him with no leverage.

  “In the name of the King, cease this struggling!” Derek demanded, his shout ringing in Ambrose's sensitive ears as his powerful arms kept her held tight to his body. Still, Ambrose kicked and thrashed, terrified of being captured. Looking at the river, Ambrose wished she had taken the mermaid form. That would have at least given her an out in this situation, but she didn't have that option. Instead she was forced to contest this man in strength, and she couldn't find the leverage to do so.

  In a desperate surge of inspiration, Ambrose switched her form again. She felt her musculature shift, her body, once designed for smooth, quick, agile movement, turning heartier and sturdier. Her hair turned dense and curly, wool appearing in a tuft around her neck while her chest and shoulders expanded, her body widening even as she lost a little height. Her thighs widened along with her hips, her base becoming sturdy as she felt her hooves hit the stone of the pathway.

  Derek loosened his grip on her as her head grew a pair of dangerous horns from the temple that curved back and then up into sharp, menacing points above her brow. With the advantage of his loosened grip, Ambrose was able to kick off of the ground and smash his back into the wall of the waterway once, twice, three times, dazing the larger man with the mighty blows. Taking hold of his heater, Ambrose slipped it off of his arm and onto hers while he rested his weight on her, his body protecting her from the archer.

  Once the shield was secured she slammed the man again into the wall, this time with her shoulder before charging back towards the bridge. Once she was clear of Derek, the archer began shooting at her again, trying to hit her or cut her off. Yet the shield she had wrested from the guard found its way into the path of any arrow meant to hit her, and her charge smashed through any hafts in her path.

  The other man who had been talking to Derek earlier hopped from the bridge and onto the walkway to stop her from escaping under it again. He wasn't quite as big of a man as his fellow guard, but he was still a large obstacle. Still, Ambrose was confident in the charging power of a lambda. Lowering her head, she plowed on. The man brought up a buckler to try and block her horns and keep himself in her path, but soon found out the hard way that his shield was no match for her body.

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  There was a loud crack as Ambrose’s horns pierced the hardened wood of the buckler, and then a scream as the man's arm was ran through and pinned to his chest while the smaller woman continued to charge, picking him up off of his feet with ease and carrying him into the dark under the bridge with her. Guards and the archer shouted in dismay as their friend and their target both fell out of sight.

  Rather than risk killing the man or slamming into something she couldn't see, Ambrose switched forms again, returning to her feline demi-human form and losing her horns. Without the dangerous structures to keep the bleeding man pinned to her, Ambrose let him fall off of her and onto his back, still crying out in pain and favoring his arm. Oddly enough, at some point during her charge or transformation, the shield she had been holding had disappeared. Rather than wasting time pulling the broken buckler off of the wounded man, Ambrose opted for an escape. Hopping over the man, she leapt the waterway again under the bridge and then launched herself up onto the riverwalk.

  The Archer, who had expected her to flee on the other side of the water, was caught completely off guard as she swiped at his bow. Her claws caught and passed through the drawstring, the bow snapping straight and his arrows scattering while Ambrose summersaulted over him and onto the street. The guards convening in the area didn't have their weapons drawn and all of them seemed confused.

  That gave Ambrose the opportunity to run, so she did so, hoping to start making her way toward some outer wall of the city so she could escape. In her catfolk form, she had the speed and agility to outrun and outmaneuver most of the city guard, and she used those abilities and the additional space of the streets to roll, weave and flip around the opposition until she had broken the line of the guards and could sprint away.

  She almost felt as though she'd broken free, when her instincts pulled her to another dead halt. From in front of her, leaking from the very shadows themselves, stepped the drow man who had been attacking her in the church. Ambrose stepped back, not sure she could handle someone of his speed on top of evading the guard. His eyes were locked onto her body and he seemed focused and intent on not letting her out of his sight again.

  “That is enough of this farce, girl. You have good instincts and a powerful ability, I will give you that. But you are outnumbered and outmatched. Surrender or things will get much worse,” he warned. Ambrose stepped back, unsure what to do, where else to go. No one has given her even a moment to just think and come to a proper conclusion about what to do. Maybe that was her own fault, but she was terrified.

  “S-stay away from me,” she said, backing away only for the drow to advance after her. He looked like he simply refused to let her go again.

  “Come with me back to the church and all of this can be forgiven. No more attacks, no more chasing. Come speak to the Scion and we can remedy this,” he said, keeping his voice even, reassuring.

  “You won't take me away?” She asked, the frantic fear in her chest screaming at her to keep moving, that more people were coming.

  “I can't promise that,” he said, shaking his head.

  That made Ambrose's decision for her. She had to make it home. She'd be safe at home. She could figure all of this out if she could just make it home. She charged the drow.

  His eyes widened and he swiped at her, but kept his stance tight to keep her from slipping between his legs as she had before. Unfortunately for him, she jumped and tucked herself into a tight rotation over him, landing in a run and taking off toward the city gate.

  These people would not keep her here. She refused to be a captive in this keep.

  —

  Lyssandrea couldn't believe the amount of havoc the new M rank girl had caused across the city in the hour since her escape. Reports continued to come in from across the keep of guards encountering and then losing her as she fought tooth and nail, as though they intended on torturing and killing her if they caught her. No less than two dozen men had been brought to the church for medical treatment, one of them thrice already as he seemed to have a knack for finding the girl and then getting gored.

  The girl had gone to every blockaded exit of the city except the main one, where Lyssandrea now stood, in her desperate vie for freedom. Yet the archers on the wall and the trained men of the city had held the girl back and pushed her back into the city each time. Lyssandrea had started directing the men to herd her toward the main entrance to the keep, where she stood ready. She had her weapon drawn, but she didn't intend to use it. She hoped that if she could convince the girl to slow down, to think without being chased further, she would see reason.

  It was an impressive feat that she had managed to keep free of captivity for so long. An hour of being hunted across the city, up and down streets, alleys and waterways, over buildings and under bridges. She had overcome guards and eluded shadowstalkers, evaded sharpshooters and barreled through armored defenders. All at level one.

  Was this the true power of an M rank class? That they were so potent from the start that they could unsettle and threaten established cities? It was honestly a little unnerving that even Lyssandrea with her own formidable power had been caught off guard by such a creature.

  Yet this was where things would come to an end. She would talk down the girl and convince her to come to the Royal academy. They would teach her to hone and control the unique power she now held and she would become a symbol of power for the crown. Maybe she would even be married into the royal family. Lyssandrea could only imagine the glory of having found and tutored the new queen.

  Yet she didn't have long to ponder the fantasy. Moments after it had begun, a lambda, bearing the hair color and beauty marks of Ambrose jogged steadily out of an alley and onto the main road, heading for the main entrance. She was quite the sight to behold, clutching a dented heater shield, horns and hair dripping blood, her wooly lower legs dyed with patches of red. She looked like a true monster. Like she'd murdered her way through the city in some horrific event and was now trudging toward her final judgement.

  Lyssandrea was happy that wasn't the case. Gripping the pommel of her blade, she gazed calmly at Ambrose as the mentally tired girl approached, shield raised. She was wary and on the defensive. Her head turning and her lamb ears perking up as she tried to stay aware of her surroundings.

  Lyssandrea waited patiently for her in the clear space, the closed gates behind her. The gate archers hidden on the parapets and shadowstalkers piled up on the other side of the exit in case she somehow made it through even an S rank Scion. Yet Lyssandrea felt more and more confident that she didn't need those reinforcements the longer she and the girl faced one another.

  “Done running?” She asked, examining the girl closely. While she was confident, she didn't want to miss any more tells from the girl.

  “Please…” the girl rasped, still clutching the shield. Apparently the constant pressure had worn on her stamina. That was good to know. “Please just let me go home. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to go back to my village,” she said, pleading earnestly.

  “And then what? Let's say we let you out of these gates with the power you've displayed and you go home. What will happen then?” Lyssandrea asked, really wanting the girl to think about what she was asking. Nothing good would come of her returning to that village.

  “I… I could ask them for council. The Shatterhorn could teach me t-” she began, but Lyssandrea cut her off.

  “To what? Demi-humans don't have classes. They don't have skills. This ability of yours is unique and they would have no idea how to help you use it,” Lyssandrea reprimanded. She shot down the hope the girl must have had with no mercy. There was no time for it.

  “W-well, I'd have time to think…” she offered up, as though that were an acceptable option.

  “Yes, until morning, when half of the royal army mobilized on your village to retrieve you,” Lyssandrea scoffed. “How well do you think that will go? The men told me what happened with the expedition sent out to pick you up this morning, when you were a nobody. What will happen now? With men and women of power demanding your presence? Do you think your neighbors will appreciate you when their crops are trampled, their houses damaged while you're hunted down? What will they think of you coming back when more people will be hurt?”

  The questions seemed to tear holes out of the poor girl's resolve as she finally saw the bigger picture. The moment her class turned up as M, going back to that little Village was no longer an option. At least in the short term. Once things settled down, Lyssandrea was sure she'd be allowed to return to her home to visit. At the moment, though, going back would only do harm.

  The scion watched as Ambrose's shoulders sagged, the realization that she had nowhere to go, obviously hitting the girl hard. It was as though the monstrous determination filling the girl left her all at once, and her horns, along with the shield and her other monstrous qualities melted away, leaving the short, white haired girl who had first entered the church hours ago in her place, clinging to a simple satchel.

  Seeing the girl in her base form was enough for Lyssandrea to let out a calm sigh of relief. Putting up a hand, she signaled to her men to stand down and sheathed her mighty sword in its long scabbard at her hip. Then she began walking over to the girl. It was going to be an interesting next few hours.