Congratulations, you have survived your first 24 hours as a newborn cambion!

Excess unholy energy has been released.

Enlightened, and creatures with holy affinity will no longer instantly regard you as hostile.

Accelerated growth rate has decelerated.

You must consume more biomass to increase your physical development.

Feat Unlocked!

In this world, infant mortality is extremely high. Even more so when you are a baby, and everyone is trying to kill you.

You have defied the odds and survived in the face of overwhelming danger.

The mysterious powers that govern this world have recognized your achievement and have named you Lucky.

Feat: Lucky

You have inexplicable luck and the uncanny ability to defy all the odds.

The cambion scowled at the status screen in front of him. He didn't feel lucky. Quite the opposite, really. Especially given his current unfavorable situation. At present, he was in a cage within the grounds of what the bandits called Mud Castle. It was a cage he currently shared with nine human children between the ages of five and twelve years old. All of them were absolutely terrified of the cambion now and were currently huddled in a corner on the opposite side of the cage.

He didn't fault them for being frightened.

Moments ago, the cambion had been just another quiet victim among the children. They had attempted to speak to him once or twice before giving up. As far as they were concerned, if the strange beastkin newcomer in their midst wanted to mutter to himself while pawing like a crazy person at something only he could see, well then so be it. That alone wasn't enough to frighten them.

In reality, the cambion had been keeping to himself for the past hour trying eveything he could think of in an attempt to activate his so-called abilities. It would have been extremely convenient if he could have activated blink teleport any of the hundred times he had tried since being captured.

He had tried calling out, "Blink Teleport!" He had tried closing his eyes really, really hard. Rapidly blinking his eyes hadn't done the trick either. Neither had his ironic attempt of not blinking until his eyes watered and tears streamed down the sides of his face.

Neither had he been able to activate his other ability, bark skin. He tried to recall what he had done when activating it before, but all he could remember was getting bit prior to it working both times before. No, biting himself hadn't done a thing either. Nor had scratching himself with his claws.

Why was it so easy for him to use his claws, and yet his other abilities were beyond his reach?

He tried talking this over with Status, but it had only provided vague descriptions of his abilities that were no help.

And so the cambion was thoroughly engrossed in his fruitless efforts, when he suddenly cried out briefly in an inhuman voice and begun convulsing like something possessed. The epileptic episode lasted less than a few seconds, and while unsettling, hadn’t been the thing to truly frighten the children. It was the excess unholy energies as they left the cambion's body, that terrified the children. For an impossibly long few seconds, all nine of them had felt certain they were about to be devoured.

To a lesser degree, everyone in the Mud Castle had felt a sense of unease suddenly wash over them, but as it was gone as quickly as it had come, few registered the event as anything worthy of note.

The cambion couldn't help feeling a little bad for terrifying the young ones. And yet, he had more important things to worry about. He could feel the hunger inside of him beginning to stir. He hoped the idiots who had caged him in here would feed him something, lest he make true on the promise the children in his cage had felt.

He would rather not make a meal out of them if he could help it.

The cambion noted with mild amusement that his body had undergone some last-minute developments upon releasing his unholy energy. Namely, his body had undergone a mild growth spurt. It was hard to tell how much older he looked without a mirror, but he was definitely a few centimeters taller. His hair had made a growth spurt of its own and now hung in curls over his face and down his back. But of all the minor changes, two weren't so minor. Something hard yet fluffy was growing from his tail bone. It was only about the length of his hand, but he was now the proud owner of a tail.

Curious about anything else that might have grown, the cambion lifted the square garment that was nothing more than a flap to cover his crotch. His pubic region had grown a thin layer of soft blue-grey fur, and while he couldn't be certain it was really bigger, he had high hopes for what the future might hold.

He sighed, then shook his head. Whoever he had been in the before, he had his priorities in all the wrong places.

He should be worrying about not eating those kids. It wasn't a good sign now that his ribs were showing, and his belly was a bit concave. If his ravenous hunger showed up, he might not be able to control himself. But, there was nothing he could do about that now.

After finishing his self-inspection, he resumed his introspective conversation with the entity that seemed to be living in his head.

It's just you and me, Status. Two incomprehensible beings against the world. Have I told you you're my only friend?

His mental landscape flickered and he felt the now familiar 'tail wagging' that he associated with his Status. They had become somewhat better acquainted during the day-long hike, as he learned to prompt the status window to provide him relevant information and filter out the parts he could understand. Even that was still full of what amounted to gibberish for the day-old cambion.

Hey, Status, can you explain that feat thing for me again?

Feat

A feat represents a talent or an area of expertise that gives its holder special capabilities. It can embody training, experience, and/or abilities beyond what class and racial features provides.

Right... I wouldn’t exactly call luck something that qualifies as a feat… Can you try and explain the concept of a class to me again? That's what the bandits were saying Blom-Blom had. He was a berserker or something, right? It all sounds familiar, and I keep thinking I’m living in some kind of game.

There was no question this world the cambion occupied was no 'game,' even if that part of him that he brought with him from the before didn't want to accept it.

Status mentally assented to his request and provided the cambion with the same cryptic response he had received the previous time he inquired.

Class:

(Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet)

Query rejected.

While your soul retained its essence and memories from your past life which may aid you in surviving this one, some things you must learn anew to thrive in this world. You do not meet the requirements for unlocking or understanding status query: Class.

Just as unhelpful as the first time...

The mental impression of Status in his mind drooped its ears.

It's not your fault, Status. I know you're doing your best, buddy.

Indeed, the cambion had tried being more forceful about acquiring information from the magical information relay in his brain, and had come to the realization that whatever rules it operated by were beyond even Status' ability to understand. Questioning his little mental helper as to the nature of why he could answer some queries, solicit other information on its own without prompting, and yet could not answer directly about others, had been met with a series of mental impressions that translated from 'status-ese' were the equivalent of experiencing the world's most baffling shrug; after all, how could a being without shoulders shrug? Well, Status had figured it out somehow.

Anyway, if Status itself didn't know how its own nature worked, what hope did the cambion have of understanding it? That said, there were enough clues in what the cambion learned from his magical companion to give him hope that he would not remain ignorant forever. It appeared that the more the cambion learned of his new world, the more his status would be equipped to handle the information it was capable of processing.

You're just a day old, too, aren't you, bud? Don't worry. We'll figure this out together.

Not for the first time in the last couple of hours, the cambion mentally chided himself. He didn't have to be in this situation. He could have at least tried to escape the bandits instead of so easily becoming their prisoner.

After the exciting and dangerous events of that morning (what with all the rats and nearly getting killed), the cambion had traveled with the bandits and their 'merchandise' to their base of operations. It had been an uneventful trip, and actually quite nice as they traveled through the hilly countryside of a land the bandits called Montferrat, which was apparently located on the northwestern end of the peninsula they had said was called Vitalus. That had been the extent of the geography the relatively undereducated bandits were able to confer.

The cambion's unusual attitude and easy manner had endeared him to the bandits, and they revealed all manner of information that the cambion found useful, especially given that he knew virtually nil about the world in which he now found himself.

This merchandise they were transporting was none other than the half-dozen children and the elf girl that had accompanied them in cages. For three-quarters of the trip, the bandits had been content to allow their strange beastkin companion to walk alongside them as the cages were transported to their home base in a place called Mud Village.

The bandits' job, the cambion learned, was to discreetly kidnap the progeny of semi-prominent landowners near certain villages and cities who fit a certain profile. Just wealthy enough to make for profitable ransom. Not powerful enough to raise a fuss.

That key piece of information gave the cambion a false sense of security, thinking himself safe in the knowledge that he was the progeny of neither. Or, at least, whoever his parents were in this world, the bandits were unlikely to get any money from them as far as the cambion knew. After all, the cambion didn't know a thing about his parents. Well, apart from the facts that his mother had died during childbirth and his father was a mysterious demon prince.

In retrospect, the fact that his father was some kind of demon prince should have been a clue that he wasn't safe in the assumption that he had no value to the bandits. That hadn't even been a factor, however. Ultimately, it had come down to something as simple and mundane as sexual exploitation. It turned out the cambion was a good-looking beastkin and Ripper was banking on there being at least some lord or lady somewhere on the continent willing to a pay a price for his hind end.

The bandit captain hadn't made a move until Blomdorf's condition had progressed beyond the point he could do anything to stop him. Ripper didn't really understand, nor did he care about the beastkin's connection to the largest member in his party. Blom-Blom was the closest thing the cambion had to an ally as far as he was concerned. Nearly a third of the way to the village, Blomdorf's infection caused by the blighted rats had advanced to point his journey had become a grueling feat of strength and endurance.

Those bandits the cambion had become so chummy with turned out to be no friends of his. What more could one expect from a band of gold-hungry cutthroats and thieves? On Ripper's orders, they tied up the beastkin and tossed him in the cage housing the elf girl instead of the other kids, which was just another layer of precaution. Blom-Blom, despite his worsening fever, remained always by the children's cage-on-wheels, his instinct to protect them prevailing through his delirium. Said cage was kept at the front of the party, where Blom-Blom could do little more than chug one foot in front of the other as they marched back to the Mud Village. He likely didn't have even the presence of mind to think about the cambion let alone protect him.

The elf girl's cage, meanwhile, was near the back of the convoy. One moment the cambion had been strutting confidently, a little too smug in the delusion he had befriended his would-be captors, when he was suddenly set upon by the very bandits he was trading jokes with. He was gagged, tied and tossed in there with the elf girl.

Once the fruitless flailing around and cursing his stupidity had ran its course, the cambion got his first look at her. Maybe, if he had paid more attention to what kind of people he was associating with, or even if he had more closely reviewed the memories he acquired from a certain blinkus cat that traveled with the bandits for many years, then it wouldn't have been such a surprise these bandits made poor friends.

The elf girl's body told a story of cruelty and violence. Her blonde hair was filthy and knotted, her slightly tanned skin was covered in purple, black and red welts, many of which were mostly concentrated on her thighs and buttocks, though they were also on her modest breast, which she tried to cover with her bloodied knees as her hands were tied behind her back. Between strands of her knotted hair that spilled over her face, she stared at the cambion with bloodshot green eyes that held an animal savagery that saw everything as a potential threat.

The elf girl studied this naked intruder who had been thrust into the tiny prison that doubled as a sanctuary from the savages outside. At least, here they didn't hurt her. At least here she could be alone with her rage and fury, alone with her thoughts of murder, revenge, and fantasies of castrating all men. And here there was a naked man invading her space? No, it was a boy. But being of the hated sex, he was still not to be trusted.

"Hi there," the cambion said when he wriggled to a seating position on his side of the cage. It wasn't easy given the vehicle was in constant motion and the bandits had tied his own hands behind his back. It meant he couldn't fix his garment over his naked parts until much later when he had been finally untied. "I'm sorry to barge in like this. Those guys out there really suck, don't they."

"I don't need my hands to crush your balls and beat you to death," the elf girl hissed, eyes filled with murderous intent. "Put your dick away and don't you dare touch me."

The cambion pulled his knees up to both hide and protect his jewels.

"Sorry about that," the cambion said awkwardly. He felt bad for what must have been a terrible time for the elf girl, and he regretted trying to befriend the bandits in the first place. "I asked for pants, but they didn't..."

"Shut up and don't talk to me!" spat the elf girl.

He couldn't fault her for acting the way she did. Even more so given the nature of the thoughts in the back of his head.

Suddenly the cambion felt disgusted with himself. A small part in him was admiring her beauty and sexualizing her despite her horrible predicament. His sensitive nose could smell the evidence of the repeated transgressions upon her sex. He could smell her fear, her rage, her despair... and somewhere inside himself, he wanted more of it.

Ruthlessly crushing all thoughts of his baser instinct, he respected her wishes and ignored her for the remainder of the trip.

Upon arriving at Mud Castle, Blom-Blom and Mentiroso had gone off in search of aid from the local healer, while the rest of the bandits retreated to the tavern and brothel in the Mud Village. The cambion had been untied and secured with the other children in a row of cages that had been built for this purpose. The elf girl had been taken away somewhere else.

Status, no matter what happens, I won't be a completely evil bastard. My father in this world might have been some kind of demon prince, and maybe that's why I'm constantly having evil urges... but there are some lines I never want to cross. I don't think I'll feel bad about tearing out some of these fucker's throats, and I can't say the whole ransom racket bothers me all that much... but I refuse to let myself become a rapist.

The cambion felt a different kind of heat bubbling up inside him as he silently vowed that if he could get out of this place, he would kill anyone he had to and set the elf girl free.

Just as he was thinking that he was deluding himself and there was no way he would ever get out of this cage unless it was for the purpose of being sold to some fat deviant, there was loud rapping on his cage.

"You there," said the obnoxious voice of a man in black robes. In his right hand he held a black rod, purple lightning crackling ominously from its tip. "Are you the one who made that racket earlier?"

The cambion was pulled from his rambling thoughts to look up at the robed gentleman.

He had a fat nose with thin nostrils that angled upwards and reminded the cambion both of a snake and a pig. He was so distracted by the man's nose that he failed to realize he was being asked a question. The snakepig-nosed man rapped on the metal bars of the cambion's cage once more, louder this time.

The cambion realized the man must have been referring to his outburst upon reaching the end of his first day in this world. Having failed to answer quickly enough for the man’s satisfaction, he repeated the question.

"Did you not hear me, child?" the man said, punctuating his statement with an impressive amount of disdain. "I asked you a question."

The cambion donned a mask of confusion and deliberately looked his left then right. Then he looked blankly at the man in the black robes before once again repeating the gesture, this time he muttered something to himself, and it almost looked like he was talking to something just over his shoulder.

This time, the man in black robes struck the bars so hard that it discharged its purple lightning, causing the children in the cage with the cambion to yelp.

"What are you doing!?" the snakepig-nosed man spat.

"Me?" the cambion asked innocently.

"Yes you!" the man answered. "Who else? And why do you keep looking around like that when I'm looking right at you?"

"OooOOOooooh," said the cambion, his voice rising and falling in pitch as if he just remembered something extremely important. "Yeah, well you know how it is. I was just having a discussion with my conscience. Or, conscience-es… plural. You know, little devil on the right shoulder and little angel on the left… I’m happy to report that in the end, we decided to accept your offer."

"You decided to accept my what?" asked the man, his annoyance having been replaced with confusion.

"Your offer," the cambion replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He then crossed his arms and bowed his head magnanimously.

"What offer?" the man replied dumbly, for the moment having completely forgotten his purpose. "I didn't make you no offer."

"You mean you didn't come here to ask me to apologize your mother?" the cambion replied, his voice now heavy with concern. "I mean, obviously we both know that I had nothing to do with it... Yes, we thought it was odd that you would come to us, but we decided to accept out of pity. Obviously, you must have done it because you didn’t have anyone else. But… we figured someone ought to offer the poor woman condolences for how awful that nose of yours turned out."

The man's eyes had been progressively widening the longer the cambion spoke. By the time he was finished, it was a wonder his eyeballs had not fallen out of their sockets.

Whatever reason the man in the black robes had had for approaching the cambion vanished, replaced with unadulterated rage. He blindly lunged his lightning stick into the cage meaning to strike the cambion in the chest. This was precisely the result the not-a-beastkin had been hoping for. The cambion dodged to the side at just the last minute and drew claws in his right hand.

His intention had been to disarm the enraged, black-robed man. Using one hand to grab the lightning baton and the other to shred the man's wrist, he expected the man's hand to reflexively let go, availing him of a weapon. He could then use his quick reflexes to turn the lightning baton on his snakepig-nosed assailant. There had also been a theory in the cambion's mind that said man would have keys, and that he could use them to unlock the cage, escape... yada yada...

All those extra steps in the plan he had spontaneously cooked up in the span of a few seconds were useless as his venture was doomed to failure from the start.

Yes, the cambion succeeded in drawing blood, leaving deep gouges in the man's forearm and wrist. The man's pain and surprise were enough to let go of the baton, but the rest of the cambion's plan fell apart for several reasons.

First, the cambion had failed to notice the chord of leather tying the baton to its master's arm. Even once the man lost his grip, he need only pull back to recover his weapon. Secondly, in the failing light of the day, the cambion hadn't been able to distinguish the subtle differences in coloring along the length of the lightning rod. From the base to end, the weapon was two slightly different shades of black. The bottom half being the darker, while the 'business end' had a slight sheen to it that was difficult to see if one wasn't looking. Failing to notice this, the cambion had assumed only the tip of the weapon was charged with electricity, as it was the shiny part that always seemed to be crackling. The reality was that the lightning baton's lightning enchantment was active for about half its length, allowing it to be used both as a prod and a striking instrument. The prod did hold the highest charge, evidenced by the lightning that lit the tip of the weapon, but the rest of the active area was still sufficient to zap a cheeky cambion who thought he had the drop on an enemy whose weapon’s capability he had failed to fully comprehend.

The zap was strong enough to shock him into letting go of the baton, whereby it was subsequently pulled out of the cage by the shocked and bleeding guardsman.

The man in black robes didn't waste words. His rage and indignation had escalated beyond the capability of speech. The cambion had only moments to reflect on his mistake before the snakepig-nosed man gripped his weapon with his good hand, and proceeded to instruct the cambion on a lesson in pain with a lightning-charged bitch stick.