I was by the House’s facility gate in a few minutes, carrying a bag filled with a few hurriedly packed necessities. A couple baggy clothes, a small whetstone - in case my sword got dull, a book and two low quality healing potions.

Why potions? Not for me, obviously - for others. These were quite pricey, but, knowing that I would always have some spare space in my bags (because I didn't need to pack either as much clothes or food as everyone else) I decided to put that space to use. You never know when your teammates will get wounded. Better to be over prepared and let supplies spoil rather than underprepared and see someone dying on your hands.

Suppliers, no matter how precious, can be replaced. Restocked. Lives - no, not as much. Or, should I say - not so easily - seeing what happened to me evidently.

Marching towards a - seemingly empty - traveling cart, I quickly made some mental notes. Last time I fed was this morning - as usual, in a small slaughterhouse next to the kitchen, where ‘very’ fresh food was being prepared to feed several dozen stationing knights. Animals weren’t as ‘fulfilling’ as humans. They just ‘hit’ differently. I’d equate it to eating bread made entirely of wheat versus one that had been spliced with sawdust by millers to reduce cost. Still, I managed to push the worst of my cravings for my ‘prefered essence’ this way. I should have a few days before my cravings would return, and around a week before I would start ‘salivating’ at the mere sight of humans. That’s assuming I wouldn’t feed in the meantime.

“...Finally.” Captain Ghost’s voice rang directly next to my ears, even though I very clearly noticed his silhouette sitting on the cart. How does he do that! I will learn how he does that specifically one day, the combat potential is too good to ignore.

Frankly, he was just being mean at this point. I did nearly the impossible! Impossible for humans for sure!

I decided to ignore his remark, mentally pouting as I climbed over the ledge of the cart, getting inside.

Ghost knocked on the side of the cart several times, signaling the cartman to move. There was a sound of reins hitting the horses’ backs and soon the wheels let out a screech, being brutally ripped out of stagnation, starting to drive off into the night.

The two of us sat in absolute silence for several minutes. Very awkward silence mind you. I was waiting patiently for Ghost to fill me in on the mission's details.

… very patiently.

… Patient like a gator in stagnant water. Like bells on the trees waiting for a gentle breeze…

…. patient as the dead - I was proud of coming up with this one..

…

…

…

BUT EVEN THE DEAD HAVE A LIMIT TO THEIR PATIENCE!

“Sir?...” I asked as we were getting closer to the city exit “...Can I request mission details?” “Mission?...” he asked, geunily acting surprised “... ah yes. The mission. The super secret mission. The important one. The mission for which I dragged you out of the city in the middle of the night. The mission.” “Sir, yes sir. I would like to know what I should be ready for.” “This super secret mission has the codename: ‘Vacation’. We are going to the city further north-west, a known trading route, home to many pubs, gambling houses, and such. Our mission is to infiltrate these facilities and blend in the society and pretend to be mere pleasure-seeking travelers” Ghost seemed to work his way through the words slowly. “I see, and then? Catching bandits? Cheaters? Stopping a riot? Special city focused on traveling in close corridors?.” “Not so much. after spending several days there, we will return back to Boltward.” “...” “...”

Somewhere I could swear I heard a cricket chirp.

“...” “...” “...But before that are we... uh?” “Think of it as a reconnaissance mission of the highest importance. We aren’t following a certain target, rather, we would be trying to… ‘fish’ some problems out of the local populace.” Ghost seemed to gain some confidence saying these lines now. “... I see…”

Weird. Going into possible hostile territory? Just like that? Without a plan or target?

Really weird. Then again, it is Captain Ghost who is master of field operation. All I can do is to follow his orders.

“I see, I will do my very best, sir.” “Marvelous. That’s what I wanted to hear. Remember to be natural. The more the better. Ba. Go all in. Lose yourself. I will be watching over you.” Ghost now seemed to return to his normal attitude, acting proud of himself for some reason I couldn’t figure out. “A-as you wish.”

He was serious even about mere reconnaissance missions!

Truly, Captain Ghost is a remarkable person!

If only Aster knew that his captain was literally taking him on vacation, to let his mind get rid of build up stress and trauma after weeks of completely restless training. Ghost, as an extreme introvert, only tended to see the worst in the world. However, seeing this naive, pure hearted, undead gave him back some faith in humanity and he found himself growing quite attached to his pupil of the shadows, ‘Alabaster’.

And seeing him being mentally exhausted over and over again made him ask Leading-Commander Nicolai for special permission to investigate the nearest city. For that, he abused, for the first time, his renown. For, until now, he never asked to investigate a lead without a reason, and soon, Nicoal gave him the green light for nearly any action that he asked for.

All he needed to do was to come to the office, and ask for a few days of leave, and permission to take a few of his apprentices.

Nicolai thought over it a little but then reasoned that letting that many be away from the House at one time was risky so he allowed only one. Which was exactly what Ghost had needed.

Now, they were going to Crumbrock - a city known for exotic goods, gambling, debauchery and poor quality booze that was excessively stored there.

And gangs. Well, this was but a nice addition that served to make Ghost more believable in reports that he was about to turn back to the office.

Grinning to himself under a mask like a fool, Ghost stretched his back on the cart’s wall. While he’d never outwardly show any happiness this was the closest he’d likely ever get to it.

A week of laziness with his well deserving pupil! Here they come!

Concurrently, in a separate realm, a group was staring at another area of a board the size of the world.

“You CANNOT!” The Three shrieked in unison. “He needs to remain like this in order for one of ours to obtain favor with…” “SILENCE! You know the rules and so do I! I made them!” Zariel rebounded on them “I shall not change a single aspect of his being unwillingly, whatever happens it is by his choice and his choice alone. The mere fact you contrived such a state for someone just to be a footnote is infuriating. You sadistic wenches!”

The goddess grimaced but none could meet his eyes.

Zariel threw another set of dice, this pair landing just shy of the only building in question on this part of the board.

“Hmm... not the best outcome but it’ll have to do, although I wonder if his mind can handle it if he chooses so.” Zariel mumbled, seeing possible paths develop "...Boy, if you only knew that I was never going to give you up..."

He peered down at a lonely mansion, situated on a cliff, waiting for Fate to play out.

At said mansion there was a never ending amount of activity afoot. There, servants were running left and right, carrying various packages. Mostly of herbs, and glass vials filled with various concoctions. Medicines of various kinds were brought in and out of the mansion, as a noble-looking woman was yelling at her servants to hurry up.

Medics had also formed a line in front of the mansion. They were all handsomely paid to merely come here, and were promised to be paid their weight in gold if any of them were to succeed.

Because, you see, the mansion was plagued by a problem.

The heir to the family fortune - the only son - was sick. More than that. He was born as beautiful as he was sick.

His body was milk white, resembling polished marble rather than silk, his long eyelashes, mostly closed due to pain, would flutter like butterfly wings. The only feature that marred his otherwise perfect skin was a jagged scar on his cheek, although if you heard the maids it made him look dashing. In short, he was smart, handsome, rich…

… and couldn't leave his bed for more than fifteen minutes. Then he would get nauseous and have to be carried back to bed.

People loved him. His maids and butlers, those closest to him, especially. He had it all, people were running around him with trolleys filled with medicines, food, and were willing to stay by his side on their own, even fighting for shifts to attend him rather than do other, even easier tasks.

As for Derek - which was the sixteen years old boy's name, he was tired. So very tired.

“Here, young master…” one of the maids, in her early twenties raised a spoon to his mouth after blowing on it for a bit. “...say ‘aaaa’.”

She had a crush on him. He knew it. Afterall, nearly everyone did. Treating him like a porcelain doll on display.

But, he played along.

“A...aaaa…” he would open his mouth, letting her feed him. The stew, this time around, had been made by a renowned chef, using carefully handled ingredients, all ensuring the taste and texture were just so.

He learned to cooperate. To play around. To look more sick than he actually was. For various reasons. Mostly, because he couldn’t do much on his own, and if he ‘fed’ their needs, they were more eager to attend to his own.

As Derek swallowed a spoonful, his door opened and his mother led in another medic.

“Leave us!” She ordered, and the maid quickly grabbed vessels of still steaming stew, bowed her head to the ‘young master’ first, and then left the room, followed shortly after by everyone else.

‘Great. Another ferrier’ - the young noble groaned in his mind.

In his free time - that he had plenty of - he studied medicine. Right now, he knew more than many doctors that visited him.

He knew that it wasn’t disease that plagued him. It was ‘fatal immunity syndrome’ - a rare condition where someone is born with nearly zero resistance to...well literally anything. A rare case. Very rare. Maybe a handful of people currently lived at the same time with this same condition around the world. A subtle amount of pressure could bruise his skin. A minute change in temperature could cause a sudden fever. Strong smells, loud noises, intense tastes even, they all would tire him severely. Once, when he was younger, a slightly stale piece of bread had even lacerated his mouth, causing his mom and the entire staff to lament, fearing he was at death’s door.

There was no cure. No healing spell. No medicine. His immunity could be temporarily boosted, and even that, with greatly reduced effect, in the end, to boost and support something, something needs to be present first.

The charade would go on. The medic would step in, check up on him - give out a wrong autopsy, ‘finding a disease’ that was most likely plaguing him, and setting up a medication course.

The ‘disease’ that the medic found was the one that Derek already scribed off the list - years ago in fact. Still. He politely waited for the fool in the doctor's robes to finish his pointless act before he would leave.

“Mother, I don’t think the doctor was right…” he started, hesitantly, seeing as his mother herself was supervising him taking the medicine. “We have to still try! Even if it doesn’t help, it won’t hurt! Oh by the Three I hope. Oh...and who knows, maybe…. maybe, Goddesses willing…!!!” The woman looked ever distraught, her countenance still beautiful but marred with worry over the years.

Poor woman. So desperately lost in hope. The woman that loved him, spending their vast fortune on every, even on the most pointless of acts that could possibly improve his condition.

As for Derek. He was only growing more and more tired.

HE WANTED TO LEAVE! TO SEE THE WORLD! TO LIVE AN ADVENTURE!

Lamenting on his state he thought back to his past, recalling a slightly happier time, before the worst came.

-

Derek, a much younger and comparatively healthier Derek, smiled with brilliant whites. Happily giggling as his maid was teasing him while preparing him for his morning routine before breakfast. Back then he would still get tired but it was less so, it was still bad but not as bad as it could be. He still bruised easily and was sensitive to a list of things but they were far more manageable.

“My oh my, my little Lord is looking absolutely adorable today, how I and the others wish we could just keep you with us forever!” The maid regaled him with praise.

After putting on his garments his maid smiled endearingly at him and, for no other reason than just because, she playfully tugged at his cheek.

All Derek could remember was a throbbing pain as his world went white. He only recalled seeing a large pool of blood next to him and a sudden hollow breezy feeling in his mouth before collapsing and fainting from the quickly ramping pain.

The maid shrieked, a shriek so loud every guard on the estate had come bounding into the room, followed shortly after by his mother.

- “MY BABY! Call the healers, bring our medicinal potions! NOW!” She rushed to his side and carefully brought him to her lap.

- “I I I I was just playing with him when AHHHH!” The maid wailed prostrating herself. “Please, I didn't mean to!”

The servants scurried around, looking horrified at the sight, for the boy’s cheek had seemingly been torn off, showing the inside of his mouth, bits of nerves and muscle dripping off his jaw. Within his mouth a pool of blood had started forming as his eyes fluttered beneath his lids.

It only got worse from that day on.

-

“...Sorry mother, I… I am not feeling that well… I... “ Remembering such bad thoughts he started putting back onto the bed, pretending to lose his physical strength at least. Although, truthfully, that checkup had drained him a bit and had also drained him mentally. “Sh… That’s all right, sweety…” she delicately kissed his forehead, leaving behind a small discoloration on him that had already started to bruise, tears now dripped onto face as she brushed against him “...Rest now. I will check up on you soon. I will go pray to the Three again, perhaps I’ll be graced with a revelation this time.”

She then got up, checking everything around him first, and then left, instructing the servants to not disturb him for now, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the doors were closed and locked, something happened.

The world lost its color, turning grey.

“My my, such a hunger for adventure deserves to be satisfied.”

He nearly jumped up, turning around. On the balcony, another person was sitting. Guessing by the robes - a mage. Even if the garments were extremely poor in quality.

Another pseudo medic? - Derek thought to himself - another idiot promising miracles?

But, how did he get here? They were on the fifth floor, and the window even faced the cliffside!

The man, not asking, stepped into the room. He snapped his fingers and suddenly the world shifted and brought a chair from the other side to him. He then positioned it directly at the bed’s edge, and with a flourish, sat down.

“What do you want?” Derek asked strongly, not like a frail, sick boy. When needed he could muster up some strength after all. “Me? No, I want for much but that is not important. The question is what do YOU want? I am, you see, a master in problem-solving.” he grinned widely, very widely. “Did my mother pay you to…” Derek answered with resolve in his voice. “No. Don’t get me wrong, I allowed myself to skip that line and see you directly. I know that it might be a lack of courtesy from my side, but please, forgive!” He pretended to take the hat off his head and place it by his chest, bowing, almost looking sincere.

He wanted to scream for his guards, even knowing it’d destroy his throat for weeks, but something was intoxicating about this stranger. Maybe his hair? Snow white. He has heard that some people’s hair lost their color after violent alchemy experimentation. Or was it his twin colored eyes? Regardless, his curiosity was piqued.

“..Who-who are you?” He cautiously asked. “Already told you. I am someone offering exotic goods to those in need. Whatever it is, really! Salvation? Absolution? Cure? Opportunity? A fresh start?” “Absolution? Are you like a cult leader?” Derek remembered a few of those types also coming to “treat” him in the past with their supposed vast powers.

The man burst in laughter, doubling over himself even.

“Technically you are correct. You could indeed say so. Sorry for my laughter, meant no offence, for that, I assure. You are merely the very first mortal that hit so close to home without any hint from my side.”

…’mortal’. If he distinguished in his speech between mortals and something ‘else’ - it meant that he was at least a farseer - a man with ability to see spirits. And that indeed could open possibilities to many outcomes. One of which was his possible salvation!

“Can you cure me?” Derek dared to ask. “Cure? You? No. Never. You can’t cure something that is perfectly fine…”

So he reached the same conclusion as him then. He KNEW what was wrong with him!

“Then, what do you suggest?” “A transaction, my good lord.” he bowed again “... One cannot obtain something without payment - that is the nature of this and all games. Gold? Action? Time? Agreement? Promise? One needs to lose something, to gain something else. This is how this sick world works, I am afraid.” he smiled, a bit sadly, down at him. “Somehow, I doubt gold would entice you.” “Correct assumption.” The stranger nodded, pleased. Overjoyed, as if he was an academic professor, grinning, having conversation with an incredibly smart kid connecting dots much to his surprise. This was much easier than having to figuratively string along people to see the obvious conclusion in front of them. “What do you offer, and what will you take?” “Straight to the case, I see. Your boldness truly is admirable!”

… Dangerous. Since he came here, he was polite all the time, respecting him even, sweetening his talk.

“...I love people that take their time to read through terms and conditions. And - this is coming from someone that used to ‘skip the line and press accept all button’.” he laughed at his own, impossible to understand joke “... How about this. I will grant you body with resistance to nearly *every* disease. You will be able to bathe in raw sewage and feel no harm. Cold? Fever? Pneumonia? Strange sensitivities? These will never touch you again! No more aching body. No more dizziness! No m…” “You said you ‘will give me a body’ - does that mean mine will be replaced, or altered?”

The creature before him - for he had just deduced that, surely, he wasn’t a human - grinned. Widely. In a truly inhuman way. His cheeks moved back in a smile *literally* from ear to ear in a way that fitted more to a wolf than a humanoid. His eyes shrank to horizontal slits.

“...what a smart little morsel you are!” he clapped his hands “...Yes! Yes! That’s exactly the thing! That’s exactly the price you will have to pay! Your body! Your pretty, cute body! I will take your humanity away! Reduce you to a hideous creature! One that even your mother wouldn’t be capable of loving! You will most likely be shooed away! Considered a monster!” The stranger was laughing maniacally “...and instead of blindly agreeing, you actually read through my little schemes! THIS IS BRILLIANT! You are the very first human that didn’t just pounce on what was offered to him!”

The sick laughter kept on resonating across the room, as the creature started growing visibly larger, losing part of his human characteristics.

Antlers grew from his head, fangs adored his laughing mouth, he was holding his belly with now clawed hands.

“...I agree.”

Derek said in a low voice but with all the strength he could muster.

Laughing stopped, abruptly, as if he had never been doing so in the first place.

“...Really?” The beast asked, looking closer now at the boy. “What is beauty and wealth if you are rotting your life away in bed? I want to see the world, it doesn't matter if it is human or beast. What point is there in being attended and adored if I cannot do anything but accept it. Their love for me, even if parts are genuine I feel it is hollow, filtered, I yearn for the freedom to find my own way and my own love!”

The man became serious, all elements of the laughing clown from before seemingly gone.

“You impressed me, human. More than once. That’s quite an achievement that few ever reach… To voluntarily cast your life away and sink into the unknown… to break your fate in pursuit of your own desires… You, you have potential. And I will be watching your career with great interest. Regrettably, what is in store for you isn’t the best outcome but know this, I tried, I really did. You have earned a little something from me as a bonus, little one, now… Take my hand.”

A beastial paw stretched towards him, it’s eyes peering at and through him.

And for the first time, Derek hesitated.

“Come on, boy. Won’t you shake this ol’ sinner’s hand? My ability to help is not one easily given.” The beast softly whispered.

Derek gripped its hands, locking them in place..

Fate shifted: breaking and reforming.

His eyes widened, as pain beyond anything he had ever experienced went through his body, paralyzing him.

He felt his body cracking. flesh ripping. It was horrifying, horrifying pain.

“YEEEEESSSS!!!” The beast hissed in bliss “...Transforming, transcending, overcoming and ascending!”

He was singing.

“Transmission? Saturation with the essence!

Decision? Stepping on the outer planes!”

Stimulation?! Mental overloading!

Diagnosis?? LIBERATION!”

Derek fainted, his mind receding into himself, not being able to bear more pain. He wasn’t there to witness his body shrinking slightly, being covered in fur, his cute face being replaced with a monstrous, deformed look. Now that of a widely regarded abhorrent beast.

A ratman. He soon became a ratman.

He had just enough energy to open one eye to see it though.

That color had returned.

The door’s had just opened.

The shrieks had begun.

But all he could remember was his maids and butlers, looking at him in disgust.

His mother, her face usually filled with infinite adoration and love now twisted in a grimace. She would cover her mouth with a handkerchief fighting back the urge to vomit. Some guards pulled their weapons pointing it at him.

- "MONSTER?! What did you do to the young lord?!" he heard them scream in wrath and disgust.

Few maids hugged each other in comfort, as if mere sight of him filled them with dread.

And in the background, he was sure it could just make out a hollow laugh ring. The laugh of his savior...