The entire race had changed, shifting from Catfolk to Pantrada. Ambrose had never seen a Pantrada before, but the prospect that such a race of advanced catfolk existed was amazing to her. She promised herself to thoroughly examine this form in a mirror as soon as the opportunity presented itself. For the moment, though, she found herself needing to focus. Her opponent was certainly focused on her.

  “A Catfolk? Is this an illusion?” The armored opponent asked. It led Ambrose to believe that she'd been too distracted by cutting open Ambrose's arm earlier to notice that the woman had had hooves and horns. Apparently Reason was not necessarily a strong point among the stats of the other woman.

  Ambrose didn't worry about answering Margaux, instead evaluating the other woman with her senses. The warrior was a little taller than Ambrose was as a human and had a much tighter musculature. She was tensed like a spring, eager for release so that she could unleash the potential in those muscles. Her readiness for combat seemed to drive her and steady her breathing as she prepared to attack Ambrose with all of her might.

  Ambrose took that information in stride, settling until she was fully comfortable. This time, there would be no surprise additions to the battle. She could focus on her goal.

  “I take it both combatants are ready?” the Heiress said, looking at them from her seat.

  “Oh I'm ready,” the Armored girl replied while Ambrose simply nodded.

  “Then before mine eyes in the name of the Empire Advelheid,” she began, pausing and looking back at the prince, who straightened up at the inclusion.

  “And the Kingdom of Diestol!” He added with a little too much gusto.

  “We bid you, BEGIN!” The Heiress's voice thundered for a moment.

  The next moment the knight drew her weapon and swung. From their starting distance at five or so yards from one another, any person who hadn't seen the blade extended would have thought Margaux a mad woman. Ambrose, on the other hand, simply ducked. There was no reason to stay in the way of the horizontal swing. With a simple drop of her weight, the Beastiary settled into a comfortable crouch, her tails waving behind her as the blade passed overhead and then began to retract.

  Ambrose wouldn't have called the attack slow. Not at all. Nor would she suddenly say that her body was just far too fast to be subject to the attacks sent her way. The experience she was under was more akin to her simply noticing that both she and her opponent were moving through some form of thick liquid that slowed everything down just a little.

  Watching the movement of her opponent, something that had been impossible before and had cost her a wound on her arm, was now as simple as monitoring the passing of a moth. So long as she focused, she could monitor what was happening.

  Rather than advance, Ambrose stayed at a distance, monitoring her opponent from her crouch. Margaux drew back her arm, stabbing out with her blade as it extended toward Ambrose's face. The pantrada leaned to the side, letting the blade pass before squishing herself almost flat to the ground to avoid the return of the blade, which Margaux had ripped to the side in an attempt to saw off Ambrose's neck.

  Once the blade was no longer a threat, Ambrose returned to her comfy crouch. The room was silent, those capable of actually seeing the fight, likely astonished. Margaux's playful smile was gone, replaced with the flat lips of focus. Ambrose purred. She preferred that look to the insane smiles she'd been getting.

  The pantrada watched as Margaux stepped toward her, seeming to be more cautious in her approach. Ambrose wondered why the silver lady was acting so weird. Moving forward on all fours she slunk toward Margaux, rolling out of the way of a downward slash that cracked the very air with its speed and ferocity. Yet Ambrose made a point of it to get a full body length closer to the woman before crouching again and continuing to observe her like a fascinating new toy.

  At this range the scent of her opponent was much stronger, and overpowered the smells of the other people in the room. The strange tang of metal and blood hung heavy on Margaux, along with some hints of spice that the pantrada found pleasant. How nice for prey to season itself.

  Margaux let out a frustrated grunt, swinging her weapon in a complex weave that made evading low more difficult. Rather than staying on the ground, the pantrada hopped the first slash, rolled past the rising cut in the air, and then a power within her dragged her to the ground on all fours when the woman tried to slice through her in midair.

  For a flash Ambrose scented genuine surprise and confusion off of her prey. It made her smell… Delicious! Despite herself, Ambrose lunged at Margaux, pouncing on her and somehow weighing her to the floor, putting the warrior on her back. Her mouth watered at the delectable flavors the warrior was exuding before she felt a shift in the girl's muscles.

  Deftly rolling to the side and back into her pleasant crouch, the pantrada settled and began grooming the back of her hand while Margaux tried to stab whomever she thought was on top of her. She slipped away when Margaux lashed out at her, rolling onto her armored belly to chop at Ambrose, who had lost interest in being within range of the pointy stick.

  The pantrada let the warrior stand back up, back at her own comfortable distance of about three yards from her huffy opponent. Margaux seemed frustrated, her breathing coming heavier as she tried to read Ambrose's movements. Somewhere deep down, Ambrose respected the attempt, even if she felt like it wouldn't help poor Margaux much.

  When the warrior raised her hand, palm facing Ambrose, the pantrada prepared to move, only for a glowing pink ball to blast forth from the palm of the other woman. Ambrose couldn't help but slap the fast moving round object, batting it with a paw and knocking it into the stone floor where it detonated. The blast sent her flipping and tossing in the air for a moment, though the pantrada wouldn't say it particularly hurt. Once again the energies inside of her pulled her firmly back to the ground. She crouched and observed her new situation. The blast had thrown her about ten yards from her opponent. That didn't particularly bother Ambrose, but she felt like it was a further distance than was permissible to stay at for a melee duel.

  Margaux, seemed intent on making the duel something of a ranged battle, though, as she began sending out more of the pretty pink boom balls to try and hit Ambrose. Ambrose chose to circle closer to Margaux again, and wove herself past the balls occasionally batting at one with a paw to satisfy her own curiosity. Once she was near the five yard mark again, Margaux wove more of her sword attacks back into place which allowed Ambrose to resume the fun of jumping and rolling between the extended blade.

  Margaux maintained her offensive for a surprising amount of time, slashing and blasting as fast as she could to try and get a solid hit on Ambrose, but the pantrada was not really exerting herself, and wasn't tiring. What should have been a battle became a dance, and for long moments, Ambrose simply moved, swayed, flipped and rolled to some unheard melody.

  It wasn't until Margaux suddenly stopped swinging, shouting in frustration, that the dance ended and Ambrose settled back into her crouch. Margaux reached up for her helmet with one gauntleted hand, her scowl turning into a smile, as she gripped the visor and lifted the helmet away from her face.

  Ambrose watched with mild interest as her opponent took off part of the glimmering shell that was preventing her from eating the woman. She bore witness to a face that was, as she had expected, very pretty for a human woman. Ambrose would even call her passable were she considering the woman for anything other than an early lunch. The long black and pink tresses that fell from Margaux's hair certainly made her unique among the breed. But past that the pantrada didn't much care.

  Margaux seemed to think she should, though. The other woman was smiling and making faces at Ambrose. “Come to me, lover. I yearn for you,” the other woman said, her voice a lusty purr.

  Ambrose looked at her, looked her over, blinked, and then turned around as she lost interest. It was the faces of everyone else in the hall that caught her attention at that point. Everyone from the Diestol Kingdom, from the servants to the prince himself was staring, star struck and smitten with the woman behind Ambrose.

  So Ambrose turned back around, curious to see if Margaux had sprouted some ears or done some other fantastic thing when she wasn't looking to cause that reaction. She saw nothing new. In fact, Margaux was looking at her strangely, and the odd expression made the pantrada detract points from whatever attraction she might have felt the first time she looked.

  “Lover?” Margaux tried again, seemingly eager for Ambrose's attention. “Come to me. I welcome you into my arms,” she said, still gripping her pointy stick in one hand while she curled her finger at the pantrada. Ambrose stayed right where she was. What kind of idiot did this woman think she was?

  Margaux's genuine confusion did smell appetizing, though.

  The warrior turned and pointed to one of the men in the surrounding room, her frustration obvious. “You! Come to me. Kneel!” She demanded. The man, a simple cleaning servant, dropped his broom and nearly fell over himself to rush into the space where Ambrose thought she was supposed to be fighting with Margaux. He knelt on all fours at her feet.

  “Do you love me?” she asked, eying the kneeling man who nodded emphatically, moving forward to kiss her grieves in a show of rabid affection.

  “Yes! Yes, I adore you!” He cried, kissing the metal worshipfully.

  “Would you fight for me?” She asked the man, who looked up at her and nodded, turning and scowling at the pantrada. Ambrose licked her lips. She didn't mind free food.

  “Would you die for me,” Margaux asked, leaning down and cupping the man's chin, bringing his gaze back to hers. He nodded without hesitation, which Ambrose thought was pretty stupid.

  Standing Margaux pointed back where the servant had come from. “Go. Wait for me,” she said simply, watching the man scamper off, giggling like a wooed maiden before she turned back to Ambrose, who looked back at her.

  “Do you love me?” She asked, stepping closer to Ambrose as though she had confirmed something with that man and needed to do so with her. Being the helpful person she was, Ambrose was honest.

  “No”

  The shocked expression on her face and the stunned gasps of almost everyone in the area told her that was surprising for some reason. Margaux blinked in disbelief, as though it was impossible that someone else could not love her after seeing her face. It was pretty, but that really didn't mean much to Ambrose.

  Still her answer apparently was strange enough to warrant the woman sheathing her blade, which Ambrose thought might count as her losing the duel.

  “Okay, no.” Margaux frowned, seeming to be genuinely disturbed by Ambrose's lack of attraction to her. “No. Halt everything,” the woman said, scowling over at the Royals who each seemed fine with pausing on Margaux's command.

  “What do you mean, No!” Margaux asked eying Ambrose.

  “I mean I have no romantic inclination toward you?” Ambrose said, coming back to herself a little bit with how strange this line of questioning had become.

  “You don't?” she asked, incredulous.

  “No… why would I?” Ambrose replied

  “Am I not beautiful? Stunning? The image of allure? The object of your desire?” She asked, seeming a little manic. Apparently Ambrose not loving her was shattering some once stable part of her world view. Ambrose almost felt bad that she was going to make it worse.

  “I mean… you're okay, I guess…”

  “Okay?! You guess?!” Margaux asked, seemingly infuriated more by Ambrose's answer than anything else that had happened that day. “My beauty has brought armies to their knees. The promise of my affection has laid men low. My kiss has slain generals! What do you mean, “okay”?!”

  “Some people have low standards, I guess,” Ambrose shrugged.

  “Low standards?!” The woman shrieked.

  “Yes! Low standards. Anyone stupid enough to fall for that mediocre seduction act isn't someone I'd laud for their sensibility and restraint,” Ambrose said, starting to get annoyed at repeating herself.

  The woman stood shocked, jaw slack for a moment before her eyes began to water and she stamped the ground like a petulant child.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Ambrose found herself losing interest even faster and turned away for a moment to see all the lovestruck fools in attendance glowering at her. Maybe she'd spoken a little too harshly.

  “No… no, no. I get it. You're a Catfolk. Catfolk have different beauty standards. You're immune because of your form! It's an ability!” Margaux said, her voice bordering on hysterics.

  Ambrose turned back to see Margaux advancing on her, a look of wild desperation in her eyes that made the pantrada move away and fast. Margaux chased her.

  “Stop! Return to your human state! Now!” She demanded seeming genuinely incensed. Ambrose had no intention of doing anything like that for this woman, especially when she was freaking out.

  Yet Margaux persisted, following her and making more and more demands. “Can we just call the duel? She's not even fighting any more,” Ambrose suggested, looking over to the Heiress, who looked back at the star struck prince.

  She turned and consulted with the cloaked person next to her before they gestured at the prince and the princess. The Heiress turned to Olferig, getting his attention and beginning to speak with him while Margaux continued to chase Ambrose.

  “Just stop running from me and return to your human form!” The fussy knight demanded yet again.

  “Why?!” Ambrose asked, having a hard time believing what she was hearing.

  “Because you must. You have to see my genuine beauty!” Margaux insisted.

  “If I return to being human, you'll stop fighting and we'll call this a draw?” Ambrose asked, deciding she was in a position to negotiate.

  “Yes! I will admit to a draw if you return to your human form!” Margaux nodded, eager to see those results. She even stopped chasing Ambrose, though she still looked insane to the pantrada.

  After a moment of calm, Ambrose stood and, noting that Margaux's weapon had been stowed, and that her hands were away from it, she shifted back to her human form. The results were likely to make Margaux cry, but so long as she held to her word, Ambrose would take it.

  Again, Margaux put on that fake coquettish smile and tried to coax Ambrose over to her. Ambrose sighed and turned to the nobility in the room. “So, we both are willing to call it a tie.”

  The enraged shriek that followed left Ambrose's ears ringing.

  —

  It took a long few minutes to get Margaux to calm down and to force her to put her helm back on, but the Heiress eventually accomplished the task. Once the distressed combatant had calmed, the matter of discussion turned back to the results of the duel. The prince, wanted to argue that by putting away her blade Margaux had obviously forfeited the battle. Yet he found himself outnumbered as Ambrose, the Heiress, the cloaked figure, and Margaux all insisted that the fighters had agreed to a tie.

  No matter how he tried to worm his way to a victory, the women and cloaked guard refused to let him have an inch, and he was eventually forced to relent, though he did receive a promise from the Heiress to pay for the damages to the Academy interior, and compensation for Margaux's use of a skill on everyone who had been in the hall at the time, pointing out that large area of effect attacks during a duel were in poor taste even if the effects themselves weren't destructive.

  The Heiress didn't argue that point, agreeing that the other M rank had gone too far in her attempt to win, promising to do her best to make amends with those affected. Though, when she mentioned those affected it was not at all subtle how she looked at Ambrose in wonderment.

  Margaux didn't seem worried in the least, which Ambrose had expected on one level or another. The woman didn't seem to value anything other than power and rank. Now that Ambrose had displayed her power, the only thing in the room Margaux cared about was her. That being what it was… Ambrose chose strictly to ignore her and instead focus on the massive growth she had received from even that short conflict. The fact that she had grown so much just from evading while using a new form was… daunting.

  Ambrose Di

  Class : Mystic Bestiary

  Rank : M

  Race (current) : Human

  Level : 10

  Adaptive Might : 20 + 3(pending)

  Adaptive Virility : 24 + 3(pending)

  Adaptive Agility : 22 + 3(pending)

  Adaptive Comprehension : 18

  Adaptive Reason : 22 + 3(pending)

  Adaptive Potency : 28 + 3(pending)

  Class Abilities: Bestiary of Forms, Investment of Essence, Minor Chimerism

  Bestiary of Forms:

  Bestiary may freely shift between a number of forms dictated by their level.

  Forms Chosen [4/7]

  Pantrada - Evolved - Investment 5/5 - No items

  Lambda - Unevolved - Investment 0/5 - No items

  Merfolk - Unevolved - Investment 0/5 - No items

  Redcappi - Unevolved - Investment 0/5 - No items

  Investment of Essence:

  Invest points into a form to enhance that form’s unique statistic by 10% Potency per point spent.

  5 investments of one form will result in an evolution of that form.

  5/10 spent.

  Minor Chimerism:

  Beastiary may begin mixing existing forms into Chimera forms. Maximum number of forms that may be put together is dependent on level. Forms may be freely adjusted and shifted to. Chimera forms will maintain logical racial abilities from their parent forms. 2 chimera forms may be saved and shifted to naturally.

  Number of forms per chimera: 2

  Number of saved chimera forms: [0/2]

  New Forms Available. Please choose a new form.

  New growths available. 9 Please distribute growths before changes apply.

  New Chimera available. One slot must be filled.

  Racial Abilities:

  None

  Skills: None

  Congratulations. You have leveled up. Your class allows natural growth in Might, Virility, Nimbleness, Discernment, and Potency per level. You may apply 3 extra growths per level to further empower your status.

  -

  Such explosive growth made her want to ask just what level everyone in the room was. Three levels from mere minutes in combat was terrifying, and a little thrilling. Yet all Ambrose had to compare her own experience to was Nayeli, who had given her a reference of level 14 after a significant amount of time. The problem was, she was only 4 levels from that and it had been less than a week since her birthday.

  Yet she refrained from asking anyone about their level. Doing so would prompt them to ask for more details about her own level. Exposing her own growth to people who weren't actually on her side would be disastrous. The prince was already very likely weighing his options of dealing (or not dealing) with her before she could challenge him, now that he knew she didn't see him as someone she was loyal or grateful to.

  The Heiress likely wanted her, and to protect her, but that motivation wasn't because Ambrose herself meant anything to the royalty. It was the significance of her class that made her valuable to the elegant woman. Her status as a ‘blessed person’ two of which she made frequent company of, summed up her value to the young empress to be.

  Margaux was... Insane, and the longer Ambrose stayed in her presence, the more certain of that she became. If Ambrose gave the girl an opportunity to learn more about her class and her power, there was no telling what the girl would do. Even at that very moment, the heated looks she had begun to send Ambrose's way were starting to unsettle the Beastiary.

  Rather than continue to dwell on how unsafe she felt around the people around her, Ambrose resolved to make herself safer in the only ways she could at the moment.

  Applying her new growths to her stats, 4 to potency, 3 to agility, and 2 to might, she prioritized her potency, recognizing that any investment she made into her forms would be more potent with that stat. If the Pantrada form had anything to say about the effectiveness of that particular method of boosting stats, Ambrose felt she'd be trying to use it a lot more.

  Once she had settled on those decisions, she moved on to picking new forms, which would likely settle the level. The list had grown slightly, and several options caught Ambrose's attention.

  Holstaurus

  Goblin

  Dormouse

  Orc Deviswine (Unshackled)

  Kitsune Anfaunum

  Lamia

  Harpy (Pigeon)

  The spread of available forms had more than doubled since Ambrose had last checked, and she found that her variety of options was growing substantially in potency. There was something to be said about the aerial capability of even the weakest of Harpies, and lamia were well known as capable warriors and, on occasion, seductresses. There was supposedly a brothel in Bristol that was run and employed exclusively by the lamia. If Ambrose had interest in such things the form may have appealed more.

  Instead, the Anfaunum and the Deviswine form both had her attention, as well as the Holstaurus for its own reasons. She had never seen or heard of the Anfaunum, the Kitsune, nor anything called a Deviswine. She had heard of orcs before. Half orcs were well known as an accepted part of the humanoid races. Full blooded orcs were deemed monstrous, though, and unsafe for society. She knew they were powerful warriors and had some serious mental influence on their enemies. She just wasn't sure of the details.

  Orc: Redacted. Female Orcs Do not exist.

  Ambrose was shocked by the response she received when she tried to look into an Orc form. The fact that females of the race apparently didn't exist. Were they like minotaurs, where the females were no longer considered the same species? Or…

  Deviswine: The nearest relative to the Orc. Deviswine have evolved from Orc females. While they are powerfully physical fighters, their true strength lies in their ability to subjugate and control their enemies. They are an inspiring presence to their allies and a terror to their enemies.

  Ambrose was very intrigued by that description, as it sounded like a good way to get out of a fight without fleeing. If she could find a way to calm, or control her potential opponents, that would be preferable to direct conflict with someone who was obviously stronger. After short consideration, Ambrose took that form for one of her slots.

  Once she had made a decision about the Deviswine, she decided to check and see if the Kitsune entry being crossed off was an implication that the Kitsune also didn't have females as well.

  Kitsune: Redacted. Kitsune no longer exist.

  That message was even more daunting to Ambrose than the first. She could understand two sexes from one species becoming separate because of conditions. But for an entire species to simply go extinct and be replaced? She'd never heard of anything like that happening before. The fact that she hadn't also worried her. Still, she put that worry aside, wondering if she could get some answers to the questions she was stuffing away later. Instead, she checked the Anfaunum.

  Anfaunum: The chosen evolution of the Kitsune. While not particularly potent physically, the Anfaunum have connected themselves to the very essence of light and divinity. Their form is a construct of power and can only be harmed by power. They are an aspect of the light elemental races.

  Ambrose was, once again, very intrigued with the new potential form. To be able to have an elemental form would certainly give her another way to cover her magical bases. While the mermaid form had magic of its own, being tied solely to the element of water could and would eventually come to bite her if anyone with electric or raw ice elementalism challenged her. With even less time spent pondering the choice than before, Ambrose locked in her decision for both the Anfaunum and the Holstaurus forms.

  Part of her regretted not having the space to take the harpy as well, but a harpy could not replace the utility Ambrose needed the Holstaurus form for. Nor could it replace her genuine fondness of the holstaurus people.

  With her decision made, Ambrose waited a moment to feel her new levels set in. Yet nothing happened. It took her a moment to remember that even though she had picked out her new forms, she still needed to put together a chimera form to satisfy the requirements for Chimerism. Luckily she had just an idea for that. When she checked the skill it gave her each form she had taken up until that point as options to combine.

  Rather than even wasting time pondering on it, Ambrose combined the new Holstaurus form with her trusty Lambda form for her required Chimera slot. Once she had settled on her desired outcome and all of her required choices had been made, the levels set in all at once. Once again, the raw feeling of light limber power surged in her body, and there must have been a noticeable change, because the Heiress and each of her guards reacted.

  “An evolution?!” the Heiress asked, her eyes wandering Ambrose even in her clothing. A dense sense of scrutiny hit Ambrose as everyone turned to regard her, and out of instinct, she shifted again, the lithe form of the Pantrada appearing where she had been. Even in this form, she felt far lighter and nimbler than she had during the fight. Her senses sharpened dramatically, and she immediately knew who was looking at her and how.

  The Heiress’s reverent gaze had settled on her face, plain admiration there. The masked individual seemed to have his gaze locked on her chest, though not her breasts. He seemed to be looking through her, at something else. The leer from Margaux was where the discomfort Ambrose felt was originating from. The woman seemed ready to drool and pounce on Ambrose, who was fully prepared to make a speedy retreat, now that she was in the form for it.

  The prince couldn’t seem to stop himself from letting his eyes linger in places that reminded Ambrose that she needed new clothing for each of her forms. Which didn’t improve her opinions of him in the least, but she was surprised to see Nayeli eying her form with avid curiosity as well. She wasn’t sure why that was the case, but she didn’t feel like dwelling on it.

  Wiggling her nose as she caught an intense scent coming off of Margaux, she chose to make as expedient a retreat as she could from the lot of them.

  “Headmaster,” Ambrose said, turning her attention to Olferig and catching his eyes. “I think I’ve served my purpose here. I’m going to return to my classes, if that’s acceptable.”

  Olferig went a little red in the face at her declaration, but paused before he said something he would regret, looking over at the Heiress, who was starting to scrutinize him again. Turning back to Ambrose, he shook his head. “No. I’d prefer you skip your classes today in favor of meeting up with Professor Gulfrig. Please let her know I’d like a complete re-evaluation of your talents and your needs sent to me by the end of the day. I’ll have everything necessary sent to your room tonight so that tomorrow you are properly prepared for the challenges of the Academy.”

  Ambrose paused at that, but after a moment, she nodded. She wouldn’t be opposed to talking to the Scion again, and perhaps that conversation would bear more fruit than spending time under the scrutiny of these people. With a curt bow and a couple tentative steps back, Ambrose left to talk to the staff and see where she could find the Scion of Light.