What do I do?

A half-hour had passed with me staring at my iPaw. I had been resting in bed since Keke and Cannoli went into the market to grab me a few ointments. How nice it must be to have a body that does what you tell it. Each time we got into a fight, I was convinced I was going to die. Yet somehow I just kept doing dumber and dumber things. Hell, now I had a few scars to show for it.

Figuring it wasn’t doing me any good feeling sorry for myself, my stare veered off to where my [Valor] was listed. It’d gone up a point, and my shoulder tensed up at the memory of Keke’s arrow. I’d never been shot before, but I couldn’t imagine the pain of an arrow was too different from a bullet. Keke assured me it would leave a minimal scar, but I had my doubts.

“Maybe I should consider switching classes.” With my left arm in a sling, I let my right arm do most of the work. My fingers led me to the [Class Selection] screen, and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I rotated through each Class, curious about the strengths and abilities of each. It was a similar excitement that I felt when creating a new character in a game.

Then a thought came to mind. What if I hadn’t picked a tank class?

I tapped at the edges of the screen feeling torn. I was frustrated that I had locked myself in but satisfied that I had protected the girls. Cannoli’s lack of offense gave me great cause for concern. I wondered for a moment how I was going to continue protecting her if not as a [Warrior]. The thought of what might’ve happened if I hadn’t been there to [Provoke] the minotaur was plenty enough to deter me. I couldn’t let that happen again.

I made my way back to the [Stats] screen. At the top was a [1], indicating I had a Stat Point to spend. My instincts guiding me, I tapped at the [Strength] Stat. I needed to know more about what these stats did if I was going to survive longer than a week. I tapped again on the word [Strength]. Nothing. I tapped twice in quick succession. Nothing again. With one last effort, I tapped and held my finger against the stat. A notification popped up next.

INCREASE [STRENGTH] BY 1?

With a sigh, I backed out.

“Ai, are you there?”

Ai’s portrait appeared at the bottom screen, her professional, monotone voice increasingly grating on the ears. “Hello, [User Matthew]. How may I assist you?”

The skin beneath my left eye twitched. “What does each Stat do?”

Ai tilted her head.

Was my question strange? Maybe I was just being stupid. “Yeah, I tried to get more details out of the Stats Screen, but the iPaw doesn’t tell me anything.”

Ai blinked. “I see. [User Matthew], there is no need for further explanation. That is unless you require a definition of each word. Might I suggest procuring a [Dictionary]?”

Is she being a smartass? I sighed. “No, I mean… beyond the obvious. Does a Stat like, say, [Vitality] do anything special?”

There was a pause. “My apologies. I do not understand your question.”

“Forget it. What does Strength do?”

Ai nodded. “Of course. Per the [Dictionary]. Strength—(noun); the quality or state of being strong. Bodily or muscular power. This is recognized as the clearest definition of the word. There are additional definitions, though they are considered to be more in line with the ideas of philosophy or spirituality. Would you like to hear these as well?”

“No.”

“Will there be anything else, [User Matthew]?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Very well.” With that, the portrait of Ai vanished.

We’ll just pretend that never happened.

Making a mental note to avoid speaking to Ai as much as possible, I scrolled over to my [Class Skills] next. Maybe I could get a better idea of my choice if I picked a skill first.

“[Provoke], [Axe Mastery], [Increase Attack], [Adrenaline Rush],” I mumbled the name of each skill as I flicked my finger to scroll down the screen. I wondered if I had been too hasty when I first saw my skills. “Well, let’s see what else there is.” At the end of [Adrenaline Rush], there was a small, pink flash at the bottom, indicating I had hit the end. In a vain attempt, I continued to try and scroll further on the tree. There had to be more skills, I’d seen them.

Four skills? I get FOUR skills?

[Provoke] had been a given if I was going to protect the girls. And being as it was at the top of the list, I hadn’t realized there were only four skills available to me.

Surely I’m just missing some?

No. I was not missing any. No matter which way I scrolled, the same four skills were still there, taunting me, laughing at me.

How in the hell am I supposed to survive long enough to even learn all of these skills?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. Knowledge was power. [Provoke] had been invaluable. Maybe these skills were just as useful as that one.

“Let’s see.” I tapped the skill named [Axe Mastery] and muttered off the description. “Passive. Minor increase in efficiency and damage with axes.” To my surprise, this skill had multiple levels in it. The worst part was that I couldn’t even see what the level after would do, if anything, to improve this skill. It was a big gray space filled with question marks.

I let the iPaw fall into my lap and laughed.

“We’re back!” called a cheerful voice following the sound of a door closing. Cannoli. “Sorry that it took so long!”

Keke and Cannoli pitter-pattered their way into my room with a sense of urgency, Cannoli at my bedside within seconds of their arrival.

“It’s okay,” I lied. Even when I was at my worst, I had to put up a brave front for these girls. If not me, then who?

“I’m really sorry,” said Keke, her hands clapped together and her head bowed.

I shook my head. “We’re alive. That’s what counts.”

“You’re going to feel better in no time, I promise!” Cannoli had a strong sense of determination in her eye. Not once did she look me in the face while she worked. Her hands were shaking all the while, and never did she complain. Her breathing labored with the removal of my bandages. I fought back the urge to grip my shoulder. The bleeding had stopped a while ago, but the blood had grown dark and sticky. It was an ugly sight.

I had to wonder where Cannoli gained the experience to do this. Can’t say I made a catalog of every time I went to the hospital, but there was a strange sort of finesse in her hands that I never saw from a nurse. Then again, I was usually there because I had the flu or caught some weird bug. Never thought I’d be treated for gashes and arrow wounds.

“We’ve got to stop making a habit of this,” said Keke.

“And what is that? Me ending up in a bed after each fight?” I laughed, and I expected the girls to laugh with me. When I realized they weren’t following, I looked away and whispered, “Sorry.”

“Yes. That is what I meant. This isn’t funny. You could’ve died out there.”

“Nyarlea’s a dangerous place,” hummed Cannoli. “Many catgirls die every day trying to protect us. Some even worse.”

“I had to protect you.” I passed looks between Keke and Cannoli. “Both of you.”

Cannoli took my wounded arm, wrapping one of her arms around it. With a small bottle of something, she motioned with her head. “Lie down.” Slowly, I did as she asked. “This is going to hurt. Try not to move,” she said.

She started by dribbling the tincture a drop a time, directly into the center of the wound where it was deepest. The sensations came in rapid-fire. At first, it felt like acid; then as if I had been stabbed by one of Keke’s arrows all over again. It turned back to acid, then to fire. Then, at last, it felt as if a single, slimy tendril wrapped itself around the bone and flesh, warping and twisting it as it liked. I held my shoulder still, but the rest of my body writhed.

“That’s something else,” I breathed through clenched teeth, a little louder than I intended.

“I’m so sorry, it’ll be over soon,” said the trembling Cannoli. She poured a little more this time, and although the pain returned, it wasn’t nearly as bad as before. I looked over, my eyes widening at what was happening. Just within the wound, the flesh was mending and reconstructing before my eyes. Tissue wrapped around bone, regenerating within seconds. It was slow, painful, excruciating even. But I could not argue its effectiveness. The inventor of this potion would make billions in my old world.

“Incredible,” I whispered dumbfounded. I noticed that Keke had turned around. Quiet sobs made their way out of the back of her throat and I felt my heart fall. Touchy-feely moments were not my forte. Experience had taught me it was best to remain quiet when you didn’t know what to say. We could talk later.

“We’re almost done,” Cannoli reassured me. Most of the wound had healed by this point. Fleshy and wet were the best words I could use to describe the sensation. It looked as if someone had stripped the first few layers of skin off of me.

To my relief, Cannoli corked the bottle and set it aside, reaching for a small wooden container about the size of her palm. She popped the top off and, with her hands still shaking, applied a thin layer of the white cream around the edges of the wound. This was nothing like the first tincture. The relief was instantaneous. Cool replaced hot. My nerves were at last relaxing and a smile crept on my face.

“That feels amazing,” I said as I watched Cannoli continue circular motions upon my skin in silence. Her forehead bore a sheen of sweat. Poor girl. She must have been worried sick.

After about a minute, Cannoli deeply sighed and set the cream aside, her shoulders slumping.

I looked over with morbid curiosity to see that the wound had completely healed. Well, as well as it was going to heal, that is. It didn’t look like the blotch of raised skin I was expecting. “Looks like a cut.”

Keke had turned back around, her arms folded. Her eyes were red from crying. “A-arrows make similar scars. Should see a point in the middle.”

Sure enough, the ‘cut’ looked slightly parted by a small indent in the skin. Looked kind of manly. I found it strangely appealing—almost like a trophy.

“I’m so sorry,” Keke whispered.

Cannoli said nothing as she rose to her feet. It felt like she wanted to say something. Instead, she balled her fists and walked away into the common room. I reached out to grab her hand, but Keke shook her head as Cannoli shouldered past her.

“I really caused a lot of trouble, didn’t I?” I asked.

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Keke. “It was us. No, it— it was me. I could’ve killed you.”

I looked away and stared at the hand connected to my wounded shoulder. Rolling my shoulder back and forth, I was surprised at how much better it felt. Far from perfect, but at least it was in working shape. Opening and closing my hand, I set my mind back on the promise the girls had made me earlier.

“I need to learn a craft,” I said. Keke’s eyes widened. She was silent, her stare fixated on something in the common room. Probably Cannoli. “Who made that medicine?”

“One of the alchemists in town.”

“Take me to them. I want to learn how to make potions like that.”

We couldn’t afford to keep making mistakes. If more encounters went awry, one of us was bound to die. Hell, maybe all of us. It was time to see the town, time to learn a craft, time to take this more seriously.

“Okay.” Keke nodded.

Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see more catgirls.