For the second time in the same cycle Dem found himself waking up from what he assumed would be death. Something about this was funny, but he couldn’t articulate what exactly. What he did know, was that this time, everything was different from the last time. He felt no despair, though again he had no idea why, but rather he felt confident, like he was waking from a long nap after winning a battle, or after he.. with a woman.. well, he hadn’t ever done that last thing, but he imagined that is how he felt now.

He opened his eyes and began to take stock of his body, his wounds weren’t healed exactly, but he had stabilized, almost as if he had naturally healed for a week. He was still in pain, but it was a dulled pain. He felt for Ina, and could sense her nearby. She was sleeping and her vitals too had stabilized, she was in no danger of dying at least.

Like lightning, a thought struck out from his most recent memory, the Divine-Damned grimoire! It had fallen to his side, its cover closed. What had it done to him? Obviously, he should be grateful, but such things didn’t happen, not even in myths and legends the Church told. This was too far-fetched. Too much for him. Why him? Why now? Who had done this? Why hadn’t any beasts shown up to eat them while they were unconscious?

His mind spiraled through possibility, after possibility, always asking himself, why? what? who? Despite the feeling of confidence he woke with, a particularly terrifying thought broke through his haze. What did they want from him? What would he have to do to repay this favor? Of course, he had no idea who ‘they’ were, or even if there was a ‘they’, but such favors did not come for free. No one he had ever met had ever gotten anything nearly so wonderful without there being a cost or strings attached. His confusion and trepidation grew by the moment

Just as he was seemingly about to go mad, or explode, his mind reviewed the nature of his bond with Ina, something he did unconsciously fairly often. He realized something was very different about their bond. The bond was better, wider in some way he couldn’t describe, but what caught this attention most was what he was receiving from Ina. She was asleep, dreaming deeply. To his knowledge, she had never had really vivid dreams, dreams of good kills, of eating until she was full, but nothing like what she was dreaming right now. In the dream she was a person, fighting back-to-back with him, speaking to him and coordinating with him. Shouting her victory as they dominated some shadowy enemy. What kind of dream was that for a giant gluttonous furball with too many tails?

Then Dem looked in her direction for the first time since he woke up, and faltered, his mouth dropping open, his eyes wide. What had happened to her? Was this even Ina? She had ascended, but not into the realm of the calamity beast, but rather had transformed into living, breathing, beastwoman. Her back was turned to him, and she was sleeping soundly on her side, but he could see the curve of her hip, the gentle regular raising of her chest, a dark mane of hair, and the swell of her br… his mind went blank again. Blood rushed to his face.

He shook his head, trying to calm himself. Was he a child again, getting his first peek at girl undressing in the forest? He needed to get his mind on track and figure what had happened. Ina, seemed fine, more than fine really. He had never heard of a many-tailed beastwoman form, but it was possible, should a many-tailed gain enough sentience, and wish to start a tribe, it might take such a form. Generally, a beast needed to ascend past the level of a elder greater beast, and become a calamity beast, to take a beastfolk form, but even then they might need many rotations or sequences to gain the focus needed to transform.

Beastfolk tribes were terrifying, they came to trade with human settlements occasionally, but just as often they might attack. Each tribe member would be the offspring or blood relative of some central ancestor beast, giving them a powerful bloodline and allowing them to maintain a humanoid form as a greater, or even a lesser, beast. This meant they were more intelligent, and more difficult to deal with. The advantage to these humanoid forms wasn’t just increased intelligence, humanoid beasts could take on Classes, use human spell templates, and use human items.

Dem had once asked Caius why powerful calamity beasts would want to start a tribe, but the Priest had laughed a little at him, and said one word. “Politics.” It took Dem a while to understand what Caius had meant. Dem had to look up the word, it wasn’t something he would have any business knowing. He learned that what Caius was talking about was power, not the power to cast spells, but the power to move and organize people. With this new understanding, Dem could form a guess as to what Caius had meant. He guessed that calamity beasts, with a tribe backing them, were more than just a powerful beast, but they were regional power as well. They could influence human settlements, and other tribes of beastfolk, with less risk to themselves personally. A powerful adventurer party might attack a lone calamity beast, but they would falter in the face an entire of tribe of Classed humanoid beasts.

Dem had only seen beastfolk on a handful of occasions when they had come to the settlement to trade. The settlement wouldn’t let them inside the walls, but it would let them set up trading tents outside its doors. He had heard that, depending on the strength of the tribe, some settlements would be just as likely to capture or kill such beastfolk as trade with them. In the settlements, as in the Wilds, everything depended on your personal power and the power of your backing.

A greater beast didn’t suddenly turn into a beastwoman, especially a greater beast who had only recently ascended, and so Ina’s current form was nearly as absurd as a grimoire falling from the sky. It had to be the grimoire, there was nothing else that would even be a possibility. He was hesitant to even touch it again. So instead, he first went through a checklist of his mental and physical state. He wondered what had been done to his Class. It was very possible that he would have nothing more than a series of damaged spell templates in his mind. As he reviewed his condition everything seemed normal, or perhaps a little better than normal, until he reached his mental list of spells and cantrips. He was again stunned at what he found.

Everything was there, all his spells, his cantrips. Some of the spell-templates his mind held, but he hadn't worked through, seemed totally complete in his mind, like he could cast them without having practiced them. There were even spell templates in his mind he couldn’t identify. The grimoire hadn’t flushed out his previous Class, leaving it mostly intact, in fact it, it had improved many of his spells. His spells before were mostly low-tier ‘Minor’ spells, but these were at least mid-tier. He could feel the greater draw they required from his Path. The Divinity-Damned grimoire had rewritten the spells held in his mind. How was that possible? What else had it done to him?

He stood up and experienced a bout of dizziness. After leaning against a nearby trunk for a moment, Dem realized his physical condition was different. He felt a little, just a little, taller, like he was standing up straight for the first time in rotations. His limbs were a bit longer as well. He felt around, and noticed his lean body had become more defined and maybe a bit more muscular. The changes were small. Only someone who really knew him might notice, but he could simply explain it away by saying he had been training harder. He wondered if his face hand changed, or if he had grown older, or something else equally as bizarre, but he had no mirror with him.

Looking again at the grimoire, he realized the only way to get his questions answered was to open it again and read the contents. The chances that a powerful grimoire would fall from the sky were nearly non-existent. The fact that this new Class, or whatever he had gained, was compatible with his previous Class made this situation not one of even remote probability, but rather something someone had to have been planned and executed. Perhaps by opening the grimoire, would he find out who his benefactor was, though simultaneously he knew that it might also tell him what all of this would cost him. His current paranoia was completely suppressing his previous sense of elation at living through his ordeal.

He edged closer to the grimoire, steeling himself against being knocked unconscious a third time, and flipped the cover open with his foot. He squeezed his eyes shut waiting for darkness, or a bright light to hit him, but after waiting a long moment, nothing happened. He peeked out of one eye, taking a look around, and then at the grimoire. He could see text begin to take form on the otherwise blank first page of the grimoire. His curiosity suddenly consumed him. Desperate to understand his situation, he rushed forward to read the text as it formed. Dem had always had a weakness for a good book.