After returning to our rooms—or apartments, as the servants here like to call them—I found myself plagued by an unexpected problem: I had no idea what to do. Mike and Elenia were still in “seclusion,” likely gaining new levels in whatever they were doing—or maybe just lying around, asleep and snoring. The rooms were soundproof, so I couldn’t even eavesdrop if I’d wanted to. Either way, I intended to respect their privacy and wait for them to come out on their own.

  Zachary had invited me to explore the town with him, but I turned him down. I’m not even sure why. Maybe it felt like too much too soon with that boy, even though I genuinely liked him. Honestly? I thought he was cute. But I said no—and now I was stuck wondering what to do with myself.

  Eventually, I decided to inspect my demon form. I knew exactly how I looked in all my other transformations, but I hadn’t really studied the demon one—not since that fateful day when I first discovered my dragon form. What had they seen last night, when I burst in looking like a nightmare? Their reactions had been pure panic—well, except Ju’s. But Ju knows me.

  I took a deep breath and transformed. Smooth as ever. Within seconds, I was taller, heavier, and looking down at the room from a different angle. Right. Demon me is taller.

  Hesitantly, I turned toward the massive wall mirrors that covered half the room.

  I was afraid I might look truly horrible... then again, what does one expect a demon to look like? I was about to see my truer self—not the tame, passable Dolores I’d been just a short while ago.

  And still, Ju hadn’t said a single word about how I’d looked in that form. Why? Sure, she’d been busy—with the resurrection, then with recovering afterward—but even once we were back, when things had calmed down, she still hadn’t mentioned it. Not one word.

  At last, I summoned enough courage to open my eyes.

  The first glance nearly took my breath away. I looked like an amalgamation of all my different transformations—something feline from the lynx, traces of dragon, hints of fairy, and still something unmistakably human—all fused into this strange, demonic cocktail staring back at me.

  I met my gaze in the mirror—my eyes were brown now. But the moment I focused on them, they ignited like burning charcoal, streaked with glowing magenta. Shocked, I took a step back. As if startled by my reaction, the light dimmed, and they reverted to that innocuous grey-brown once more.

  My eyes drifted downward as I took in the full picture of myself. I was taller than in my human form—maybe a head taller. I slowly turned, trying to get a proper view of my reflection. That night when I’d been forced into this form, I remembered feeling like my demon body was horribly malformed. But now, seeing myself clearly, I realized that wasn’t true.

  I was an amalgamation, yes—but not a grotesque one. More like a fusion of forms, jammed into a dress that had no business trying to contain it. The poor thing had ridden up into a sort of mini skirt, looking seconds away from exploding off me.

  I briefly shadowmelded, letting my clothes fall to the floor, then reformed into my demon self. Time for a better look.

  My body was sheathed in black scales tinged with deep blue—dragon scales, no doubt—stretching from neck to limbs like a seamless, tight-fitting overall. Only parts of my neck and head retained anything like normal skin.

  My legs started off human-shaped, encased in those dark scales, but ended in feline contours—covered with fine fur, digitigrade, like I was standing on the balls of my feet. The effect made them seem even longer.

  My hands mirrored that structure, the fingers elegant but powerful. I leaned in, inspecting them more closely—and noticed something odd. Retractable claws.

  I flexed one out. It gleamed—razor sharp, about seven to ten centimeters long. Only half the length of the lynx form’s claws, but still... I blinked, baffled.

  How the hell does that fit inside the finger?

  The outer side of my forearms bore something like a bony ridge that extended into a protrusion just above the elbow—almost like a partial exoskeleton. It reminded me a little of Cala’s retractable shield when it was folded up. Depending on how sturdy these bones were, I might even be able to use them as makeshift shields.

  Alright—overall, an interesting appearance. Not nearly as deformed as I had feared.

  I turned back to examine my face. The transition from scales to skin was gradual and irregular, with streaks of black-blue scales tracing the muscle lines, creeping like ivy across otherwise pale, flawless skin.

  The face staring back at me was unmistakably mine—but more angular, more defined. The features were elongated, accentuated. Older, somehow. Matured.

  And of course, there were the horns.

  Two pairs of them: the larger ones arched up and back, dark blue so deep they were almost black; the smaller pair curled just above my temples, giving my head a slight crown-like silhouette. As if that weren’t enough, I had elongated ears tapering to fine points, and a wild cascade of hair—deep red streaked with orange—brighter and more vivid than my usual tone. It stood out, even against the richer shades of fur covering parts of my body.

  I sighed and, without thinking, spread my wings—two distinct pairs unfurled from my back. A larger set arched high above my shoulders, while a second, smaller pair fanned out from the small of my back. When fully extended, they were layered in sleek black feathers that shimmered faintly, catching hints of iridescent color like fairy filigree. But when I pulled them in, the feathers seemed to vanish into the structure, condensing into something more like smooth gray leather. Folded flat, the wings nearly disappeared, draping down my back like a strange, shifting cloak.

  Then there was the tail—of course I had a tail. That explained why my dress had looked like a mini skirt before.

  The tail was long, impossibly flexible, and disturbingly agile. It started thick and scaled at the base, then gradually narrowed, covered in soft fur, until it ended in a bushy, elegant tuft. I discovered I could control it as easily as a limb—wind it around my waist, stretch it out, even use it to pick things up. With a flick, I grabbed a hand mirror from the table and lifted it for a better view of myself.

  That’s when I saw it.

  Hidden inside that fluffy tip—retractable, glinting faintly—a sting. Sleek and tapered, at least ten centimeters long. Just what kind of demon was I?

  My heart had been thundering the entire time, pounding in my chest like I’d just finished a sprint. But the longer I studied my reflection, the more it began to settle. There was an odd elegance to this form. It wasn’t the grotesque abomination I’d feared.

  I even managed a grin—tentative, but genuine. Curious, I glanced at my mouth, half-expecting a monstrous set of fangs. But no. Just a perfectly ordinary—if suspiciously bright—set of white teeth. Dubiously white, in fact. My real teeth had never looked like that.

  And just as I started to calm down—of course, a summon came.

  I tried to reject it, but another followed almost immediately. Or maybe the same one, rebounding with stubborn persistence. I sighed. Naturally, I’d hoped I could avoid summons a bit longer. They always seemed to miss me when I was in a different form, but the moment I turned demon? Back with a vengeance.

  I hesitated—but the memory of that demotion bug hit me hard enough to override my reluctance. With another sigh, I accepted.

  As soon as I accepted the summon, a white light enveloped me. For a few seconds, I was suspended in... fog? Or maybe white nothingness? There was no up or down, just that blank, endless glow. Then gravity kicked in—I felt something solid under my feet—and I found myself standing on a pedestal, surrounded by the shimmering walls of the summoning field.

  It felt oddly like being a cucumber in a jar—if cucumbers ever gained consciousness. I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that cucumbers share about 50% of human genes, so... who knows when that might happen?

  I shook my head, chasing the nonsense away and trying to focus. Though the summoning field distorted my vision, I could still make out the space beyond. It looked like the edge of a massive indoor enclosure, cluttered with rocks, scorched earth, scattered boulders, even a few trees. Traces of burned ground and magic residue were everywhere—signs of heavy spell use.

  It looked like someone had taken a patch of wild terrain used for military exercises, slapped four walls and a roof around it, and called it a day.

  Was this some kind of training ground?

  “So, are you ready? This will be your next test dummy for today! Be careful—it's a notch stronger than the previous one!”

  I turned toward the voice and saw the summoner: a bearded figure clad in an absurdly long black robe that trailed behind him like he thought he was on stage. He couldn’t have been more than one meter fifty, with dark red skin and features that were just barely human—a round face, two narrow slits where a nose should have been, and short, sharp ears poking out from under a ridiculously oversized sorcerer’s hat.

  In one hand he held a staff that looked half his height, and with the other, he was pointing straight at me.

  I squinted, and to my surprise, the fabric of his robe seemed to thin out and become transparent to my sight. Heat shimmered through it in outlines and gradients, revealing the bulge of his round belly above his short legs, pushed up high by a belt doing its best. From the way he suddenly stiffened, I realized my eyes must have flared again—lit up just like they had earlier in the mirror.

  Unfortunately, I had no time to analyze what was happening. The summoning lights vanished along with the protective shield, and before I could fully grasp that I had just been summoned as the test dummy he mentioned, a fireblast exploded around me—and an arrow punched through my left eye.

  Shocked, I screamed in pain, my brain scrambling to process the situation.

  “Hey! Wait for me to engage it first! You can’t just blast it before I do!” bellowed a mountain of a man in gleaming armor as he charged toward me.

  Well—“mountain” was relative to the summoner, as he stood no taller than one-seventy or so. His skin was the same crimson hue, though slightly lighter, and his face shared some features with the summoner’s.

  By the time he reached my position, I had already shadowmelded and reappeared behind a column.

  The fireblast hadn’t done much—my scales seemed highly resistant to fire—but surviving an arrow through the eye? That was... shocking. Shouldn’t my brain be right behind that? Whatever. I was still alive, and that was a bonus I wasn’t keen on double-checking. Shadowmelding had expelled the arrow, but the pain lingered, and the eye was blind. Not sharp pain—more a hot, gnawing throb, probably dulled by the adrenaline rush.

  I steadied my breathing and extended my mana senses, trying to get a grasp on the battlefield, as this is what it was.

  There were at least five others in the room besides the summoner: a firemage, a healer—probably a priest—a hunter with a saber-toothed feline at his side, a massive shield-bearing paladin radiating magic, and a dual-wielding rogue already mid-strike when I shadowmelded. If not for that reflex, I’d have been skewered.

  They all seemed to be the same race. The females had two pairs of small breasts, one set beneath the other. Females—unless my see-through vision had misled me—because the summoner also had the same double-breast structure, but some other anatomical differences placed him firmly in the male camp.

  The summoner now stood on a raised pedestal, surveying the scene with smug satisfaction. I hadn’t seen how he got up there—maybe the platform had grown beneath him. Either way, he was clearly enjoying himself, chuckling like a stage director watching his drama unfold.

  Pain shot through me and I hissed, whispering an expletive as I bared my teeth. My vision was still lopsided, depth perception wrecked, but my instincts were kicking in, dragging focus back through the haze.

  “Did it just speak?” the summoner asked, his voice a curious mix of excitement and curiosity.

  “It’s there!” the priest suddenly yelled, pointing straight at the obvious, stupid demon who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  I didn’t wait. I shadowmelded again and swapped position, reappearing behind a cluster of boulders farther off.

  “Domain, Constance. Domain!” the summoner called out in an admonishing tone, while the tank charged to my former spot, finding nothing.

  The priestess started chanting, her voice rising in a strange, melodic pattern—and I felt it. A tingling sensation brushed my skin like static. That had to be her domain spell. It didn’t do much at first… but I instinctively knew: no more shadowmeld while I remained inside her range.

  I crept along, trying to edge my way out of her domain without being seen—when the rogue was suddenly on me. I hadn’t seen her coming. She pounced from above, legs clamping around my back, arms raised and daggers gleaming. I barely had time to twist halfway around—

  But the moment she touched me, my wings reacted on their own.

  They exploded outward with violent force, hurling her off me. Her blades missed my neck by mere inches.

  I didn’t stop to process it. With another powerful beat, my wings launched me into the air.

  And gods—how perfect this felt. My body reacted like it had done this a thousand times. I didn’t have to think about how to move my wings—they just moved. All I had to do was think where to fly.

  An arrow whistled toward me. I sensed it coming. Instinct again. I spun in midair and caught it on the bony ridge of my left forearm.

  The mage hurled a fireball—but I dodged it with ease, even as it tried to curve midair to follow me. Apparently, the mage had some rudimentary control over its trajectory, but not enough to actually track a fast, flying target like me.

  I landed gracefully atop a stone pyramid about eight meters high, further back from the main fight. From my perch, I studied them, evaluating their formation and trying to think up a strategy.

  “Master Hogus, how is this fair?” the paladin tank protested, turning toward the summoner. “The last group got a tarantula—and we get a flying demon? How am I supposed to attack that?!”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Densai,” the summoner—Master Hogus—replied, clearly enjoying their frustration, “you should know it’s a random summon. What you get is your problem. What would you do if you had to fight a flying beast in the wild? Complain to the gods that it’s unfair? You’re always free to forfeit the challenge and stay in your current category.”

  As I took a closer look at the enclosure, I realized the walls weren’t real. This was a giant arena—the “walls” nothing more than powerful illusions. A shimmering force field sealed us in, and beyond it, I sensed the presence of many people, though I couldn’t focus on them clearly with all that magic in the way.

  Then came the pain.

  It hit like a brand—sharp bursts of heat, like red-hot iron searing my skin. I knew what it was instantly: a burning curse.

  I turned, searching for the caster—and found her.

  A sorceress. I’d missed her before—she stood far behind the main group, beyond the reach of my mana domain.

  “Sweety, come down here and talk to me!” a sultry voice called.

  My gaze snapped to its source—a succubus. For one disorienting second, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.

  Damn it.

  I broke eye contact with effort and forced myself to focus on the sorceress. I was furious—not just from the pain of the curse, but that she had the gall to send a succubus my way and hit me from safety. But that distance… that was also an opportunity.

  With a single powerful flap of my wings, I moved like a hunting hawk—faster than they expected, faster than I expected. My claws reached her before she could scream. I hit her hard and sent her sprawling across the stone floor.

  “Whoa! Whoa! It’s going rogue!” the armored one shouted, already sprinting toward us.

  I could have crushed her. Could have torn her apart.

  Something stopped me.

  “Get away from her!” the summoner commanded—and I obeyed without hesitation.

  My regeneration had already kicked in. I could feel my eye slowly healing, the pain now reduced to a dull, distant throb. Soon I’d be able to see clearly again.

  As the priestess bent over the sorceress to heal her, the summoner announced coldly, “Therina, you're out.”

  “But... but, Sir—” the sorceress tried to protest, her voice breaking with tears of pain and frustration.

  He shook his head. No further discussion.

  The moment he’d given me the command, I had already withdrawn. A shimmering magical shield now enveloped me again. The hunter’s beast was clawing at it, snarling with anticipation, and the tank’s heavy steps thudded closer with every passing second.

  “Come on, guys, more coordination!” the tank barked. “She’s only two levels above us!”

  Therina, shoulders stiff with humiliation, slunk to the base of the summoner’s column and sat down with a pout.

  “You just had to be out of formation!” the mage snapped at her.

  “Not now,” the hunter muttered, his eyes fixed on me.

  With a flick of the summoner's hand, the barrier around me vanished—and the beast lunged.

  I barely managed to shove it aside, twisting midair as my wings flared open. With a powerful flap, I took off again, climbing just out of reach. Arrows pinged off my scales, harmless, but a fireball burst against my legs—searing my skin and burning away patches of fur. I snorted in anger, smoke curling from my legs.

  The hunter shouted, “She’s life-stealing my Mina!”

  “Send your pet to me—I’ll cut her link!” the priestess called back.

  Several skirmishes followed. I kept my distance, striking only when I could isolate someone, then retreating to heal when others came. Life-stealing had become my key to survival—each hit restoring me little by little.

  My strategy was clear: avoid the tank, harass the lonely casters, and keep the pressure on their formation.

  But after ten long minutes, the fight seemed to settle into a deadlock. A frustrating, slow-burn stalemate.

  The hunter turned to the summoner, frustration bleeding into his voice.

  “Something’s off—she’s too strong! Too many skills! My arrows just bounce off her scales!”

  While they were busy scoffing at the summoner, I felt something shift—the domain was gone. The priestess must’ve forgotten to recast it.

  Perfect.

  I shadowmelded instantly, slipping behind the rogue.

  She sensed me the moment I reappeared, but too late. My claws slashed for her neck—and would’ve taken her head clean off, if not for the summoning compulsion pulling my strike just shy of lethal.

  Still, I was satisfied.

  I had moved faster than ever—shadowmeld fluid, the strike smooth, everything working like clockwork. My body, my instincts, my will… they were finally syncing. Just like back when I played Cala.

  That old thrill was back.

  “Stop!” the summoner commanded, and I froze mid-motion.

  A fireball struck the magic field that had reappeared around me, flaring harmlessly. The summoner turned a sharp eye toward the mage.

  The mage raised both hands in defense. “Hey, I thought—!”

  The summoner sighed, long and tired, then turned to the rogue.

  “Chelena, you’re out.”

  “But sir, we were just talking—” the hunter protested on her behalf.

  The summoner shrugged, unimpressed.

  “Did I say to stop? Do you think monsters grant you a pause while you chat things over? You’re on the verge of failing your test.”

  “But Master Hogus, I was healing her! She wouldn’t have died,” the priestess snapped back.

  “Your healing came too late, Constance. Just like with Therina. You failed to keep the domain and failed to heal in time.”

  The priestess wasn’t having it. Her face flushed red.

  “This is too much for me—keeping the domain and healing? Torukus should do it! He does it when we run dungeons!” she barked, jabbing a finger at the mage.

  The summoner shrugged again, as if bored by the drama.

  “That’s for you to agree on as a team. I only suggested the recommended roles. Now—” his eyes glittered, voice sharpening, “—I’m going to release the demon. Are you ready?”

  “Master Hogus, just a quick question!” the sorceress called from the steps below.

  “Yes, Therina?” he replied, nodding toward her.

  “My succubus is way weaker than her,” she said, gesturing toward me. “It’s such a chore finding demons that are actually smart, dangerous, and worth the effort. And they grow so slowly. Why do we always have to work with demons below our level? If I had a partner like her, I could breeze through levels!”

  “Therina,” Hogus said patiently, “aside from the small inconvenience that you lack the power to summon demons stronger than yourself, the real problem is control. The bigger the gap between your level and the demon’s, the harder it is to keep it leashed.”

  Then his tone sharpened. “But this isn’t a lecture. Enough theory. The rest of you—are you ready?”

  During that brief pause, I let my senses sweep across the group. Most of them were level fifty, with two exceptions: the hunter and the healer, both sitting at forty-nine.

  It would’ve been an interesting challenge—honestly, I wouldn’t have minded the encounter at all if they hadn’t all been so hell-bent on killing me.

  Still, the fight had awakened something good. That old sense of flow—when your body responds before your mind even finishes the command, when everything clicks. That thrill of motion, precision, and control.

  I felt alive. And, despite it all, I felt... good in my skin.

  “Go!” the summoner snapped—taking me by surprise.

  The shimmering shield dropped just as a massive fireball slammed into me. An arrow followed instantly, striking under my left collarbone and punching deep into muscle.

  The hunter’s beast clamped onto my left wing, and in the next moment, the paladin was charging straight at me.

  Of course the pause had given them time to gang up on me—but apparently, me protesting wasn’t part of the rules.

  I yowled in anger and pain, trying to sidestep, but the paladin slammed into me with his shield, nearly knocking me off my feet.

  Then I felt it—life stealing kicking in, tendrils of energy starting to trickle into me from the hunter’s pet. I needed contact to activate it, and I'd landed a hit. I pushed forward, aiming to strike the paladin—but he sidestepped, and his sword came down in a sharp arc.

  I raised my left hand to block, heart lurching in panic as I realized what I was doing—bare hand against steel. For a moment, I was sure the blade would cleave through flesh and bone. But then: a thin film of mana shimmered into place, and his sword bounced off without even reaching my skin.

  He staggered back, surprised. I lunged, driving my claws into the gap beneath his arm. Another surge of energy bled into me—briefly—before another fireball roared into my side, staggering me. The paladin shouted a spell and severed the connection, stripping away the life steal.

  At least one good thing came out of it: apparently, the hair on my head didn’t catch fire. Not at this fireball level, anyway.

  As I staggered back, another arrow whistled through the air—aimed straight for my right eye. My left hand shot up on instinct. The mana shield shattered on impact, but I managed to deflect the arrow, feeling it scrape along the bone with a sickening jolt.

  Pain bloomed in my chest where another arrow was lodged deep in my left lung. But lucky me—demons didn’t breathe like humans. Magic coursed through my veins, keeping me going, my breath coming shallow but steady. Even so, I was being pushed back. My strength was fading. The hunter circled wide, angling for a better shot, while the mage had teleported onto a boulder and was now raining fireballs down from above.

  I was losing. And I knew it.

  Desperation flared in me. My tail lashed violently, smashing the beast that clung to my wing. At first, I saw no effect—but seconds later, I felt the life-draining spell swell in strength. The trickle from the beast became a steady pull.

  I seized that shift.

  My next tail strike went low, slashing at the paladin’s unarmored calves. He tried to dispel the life drain again—but this time, it didn’t work. The flow surged into a torrent.

  “Mina’s dying!” the hunter shouted, panic breaking into his voice.

  "I can't break the life drain!" the paladin shouted—whether to the priestess or in blind frustration, I couldn’t tell.

  The beast clinging to my wing let out a weakened growl, then finally released me, its movements sluggish. One final surge of life drained from it into me before it collapsed to the floor.

  Hope surged in my chest—too soon.

  I went for another strike at the paladin’s legs, but this time he slammed his shield down with a thundering crash, pinning my tail beneath it. With a swift, brutal stroke, his sword sliced clean through the fluffy tip— and the life flow suddenly stopped.

  I screamed, the pain sharp and visceral, and leapt backward, wings flaring. He lunged, shield raised to bash, but I was already airborne, beating the air with powerful strokes.

  My left wing throbbed—some bones were broken, cracked from that beast’s assault—but the mana weaving through me bound the pieces together just enough to keep it working. Painful, yes. Barely functional? Also yes. But I was still flying.

  With my mobility restored, I dove toward the mage. He teleported away—but he hadn’t been my true target. The priestess was.

  My left, clawed hand lunged for her neck, only to be blocked—but my right hand slipped past her defenses, piercing her unprotected abdomen. I could have torn her heart out right then and there.

  “Stop!” the summoner yelled and the field surrounded me, but she was there inside with me.

  We locked eyes—hers wide and panicked, pupils trembling in violet pools as she clung to life by a thread.

  “Pull that hand back—slowly, and do not cause further damage,” he commanded.

  She was within that light circle, and I could tell—I could have killed her. The compulsion of the summon didn’t seem to work inside that sphere. But I had no desire to end her. I was more surprised that I’d wounded her so deeply. Perhaps the summoner's ward didn’t defend well against simultaneous strikes?

  Whatever the reason, I complied. Carefully, deliberately, I retracted my hand. Her thick, blue blood flowed over my fingers and soaked her robe.

  “By the Almighty Gods—Constance, heal yourself!” the summoner barked. Then, appearing beside me—had he teleported?—he looked up into my face.

  “Thank you,” he said, with surprising sincerity.

  I nodded as the others closed in. The priestess, wobbling but upright, steadied herself as I released her.

  The summoner exhaled a long breath.

  “The test is over. You failed.”

  Then he turned to me, bowed his head—and the summon was released.

  “Wait, wait! I haven’t even asked her name!” I faintly heard the sorceress shout—but their outlines were already fading, dissolving like mist.

  “Lores,” I said with a chuckle, just as the world snapped back into focus. I was standing in my apartment again, the remnants of battle still etched into my body. I sighed, glanced around.

  A piercing sound sliced through the air, somehow bypassing the palace’s silence wards.

  “What the fuck is that whistle?” I muttered, wincing and lifting my head.

  To my surprise, a voice answered from behind.

  “Demon alarm,” Mike said calmly. “One went off about an hour ago, and now again, mylady.”

  I turned and saw him in full majordomo attire, every button in place.

  “Oh,” I muttered, then activated that old skill I remembered from Cala. Instantly, the unnerving whine vanished.

  Mike gave a polite nod. “May I suggest you change your appearance, mylady? They’ll likely come knocking soon to check for any signs of a demonic breach.”

  I chuckled at his antics and shifted back into my human form, then downed a healing potion and pulled a dress from my inventory. Mike was already stepping forward, helping me ease it down past my horns.

  “Where’s Elenia?” I asked.

  “She’s in our room, waiting for me to return. I left her there when I heard the alarm, my lady,” he explained.

  I rolled my eyes. “Mike, you don’t need to be so formal.”

  He grinned. “Sorry—it’s become second nature. Lores, then, if you prefer.” He glanced up, meeting my eyes. “I got a message from Ju—she says she’ll be delayed. She sent one to you too. Mind if I check back in on Elenia for a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  He hesitated just a second longer. “Before I go, should I ring for the girls to come? Maybe you’d like a bath, mylady?”

  I smiled at that. “Hm, that might not be such a bad idea, Mike.”