--- Aphrodite POV

While I dwell upon the possibilities …

“If we are trusted partners, I would like to test the gift we discussed. I will understand if you refuse …”

“No,” I quickly reply, needing this test for my own sake to explain my gaining a stupendous sword skill from nowhere, now suspecting one of Azizos’ minions is the source and possibly suffering its loss. “I have a separate interest in this function and wish to suggest a couple of experiments if you agree.”

“Suggesting costs either of us nothing, so please do.”

Her tone of reply is surprisingly collaborative, which I hope with all my being isn’t false.

“I have a reasonable skill in Shields, I would like you to try to extract or gift enough to award your named intruder with the base skill.”

I immediately will with all my mind to close off access to all my skills except Shields and try to promote it like a beacon, an easy offering. Knowledge siphons off, skilled usage dims and then a new status quo.

“Done Aphrodite, can I call you by your name?”

I confirm yes and wait for the results.

“My named intruder has the Shield Skill. He isn’t exactly excited of course but meh.”

“Now I wish for you to try and drain the entire Shield Skill from me.”

“All? Are you certain you won’t need such a skill in the future?”

“If you had another named intruder, my preference would be for you to attempt to repeat what you have done for the Cook, so this is the next best thing.”

“Perhaps I have an alternative. When I drained from you, the skill didn’t form inside Cook. Instead a glowing ball of knowledge formed within my Dungeon Core and once complete, with Cook in my Dungeon Room the ball struck him to be absorbed and the knowledge transferred. So perhaps I can simply hold a ball of knowledge in my Core. Willing to try?”

Interesting, this means Azizos mustn’t have understood the gift either or perhaps being me the gift manifests differently – total theft. He always complained about mana, perhaps that was a factor.

“Yes, although see if you can form more than one ball of knowledge. Also does this cost you mana?”

No delay, the knowledge flows from my mind until all the Shield Skill; parrying, attacking and the like are gone.

“I have formed five balls of knowledge and I know instinctively they are for the Shield Skill, Mana cost is trivial. Success then?”

Talking while thinking I formulate an explanation. “The higher the Skill Level, the more balls of knowledge, although Cook would need more than one ball of knowledge to reach the next Skill Level in Shield I would think. One more test, I have another skill, Armour Affinity, try to drain it. I need to know if a subject can be entirely drained of their skills.” Interesting, she confirmed the mana cost was trivial. So, to skill me up the mana cost is high, but once I have skills to delete them and share them with other Dungeon creatures cheap. The System can prepare me and once I go out and learn, am I expected to return and strengthen the Dungeon.

There is a tug of will and yet I feel no syphoning and after a time the attempt ceases.

“I ignored the warning, although it proved true, the Gift only allows the draining of one skill from a subject. And before you ask, when you were less … calm, I did attempt to drain a skill from you, reaching for any skill as I couldn’t isolate any and the Gift advised consent would be required.”

Then how did Azizos Gift me the Sword Skill as I am sure the previous owner would have objected if possible? “Arsu, one last indulgence, could you attempt to drain the Shield Skill back from the Cook?”

A light carefree laughter is my reply.

“Easily done and when he complained I retorted he swore he didn’t want it in the first place. To be certain though I tested to see if I could Gift the Shield Skill back to him and I could.”

“Thank you, this explains a lot. I see now how Azizos Gifted a Skill to me. His contracted denizen couldn’t refuse. You should test if the Gift can work if the subject isn’t in your Dungeon Core Room because if not you could transfer Skills as required to your different named contracted intruders to address a disadvantage when facing a foe or provide an advantage to defeat another.”

The maximum sharing back of one skill though destroys my theory of giving back. Perhaps the gifting works differently for my Dungeon Master when he forces a request because I am bound to him by Dungeon Dominate and yet he never has. Does he know he can? What if he can only retrieve skills initially gifted plus one more? What does it matter? I plan to be free of him as soon as possible.

“I am indebted to you Aphrodite and rest assured I will repay my debt.”

“Perhaps given our level of trust, instead of settling for mutual trust, we should name each other a true friend. As true friends neither keep score, we help each other if within our power to do so and without hesitation when one asks the other.”

“Yes … my true friend, Aphrodite.”

“Yes … my true friend Arsu, although perhaps, if you ever meet Azizos you don’t mention our friendship.”

A burst of conspiring laughter erupts across our mind link and upon ending a quiet request. “My Cook frets over his trinkets and coins, can you reveal the location?”

I chuckle. “I left the lot where I found it, I dug a hole under the chest and buried it. Although a thought, the treasure holds no value for me, or seemingly for you, yet if Cook is typical of these humans from over the sea, they are desperate for more. Perhaps some held back and planted or injected into the nearby mountain and a mine started showing a good yield would attract humans like bees to flowers?”

“My friend there is no need, Cook can have his treasure. Between this entrance and the village entrance, there are numerous deposits, some of which accumulated in my Core along with the excavated stone and now I know why. I didn’t realise the metal held value foolishly thinking Cook admired the objects for their purpose or beauty and an appreciation for the inscriptions on the coins!” She cackles.

“Well take care where you expose the presence of the metals, can you imagine one hundred or maybe one thousand Cooks digging at the mountain in search for more?”

“Perhaps it is best the humans find their precious metal a small distance down the coast past the village and I extract all the deposits located in the opposite direction as my mana permits.”

---

I receive a pair of pants upon request and with our business concluded quickly change into Lamia form, cast [Invisibility] and fly with haste to the village. Being the next day I transform into the male Adonis once again for a rendezvous with my true love. Fortunately, thinking the words doesn’t make them a bond and fully clothed I enter the Cook’s Cottage with flair, sweeping back the canvas door, standing in the doorframe ready to receive my due adulation. My dim [Dancing Light] illuminates the cottage perfectly casting a soft romantic light throughout pushing back the dark interior. No scream of welcome or even the thump of a swooning body hitting the floor greets me, instead, silence. I hold my pose while trying to reason why my friend wouldn’t speak the truth. At a loss and frozen, not planning any alternative, so certain of this one …

From behind two hands reach around my waist and a head resting between my shoulder blades welcomes me.

“Don’t turn around my love, the beauty of your face will cause me to swoon. I have been waiting, only leaving to eat, but always with one eye on the cottage and then a light shone, like a beacon of love, and I knew ...” The hug grew tighter and shortly after the sound of sobbing.

“Don’t cry my sweet, I am here now,” I say. Does she cry? On my return?

“These are tears of happiness and joy my love, I could never be sad in your presence.”

Such utter devotion, I thought this ploy to be a useful piece of guile and when done easily corrected. I need to brace my love for a suitable separation never wishing for our love to be misunderstood and our inevitable break-up will result in tragedy.

“I wish to gift you a ring, I hope you don’t think me too forward given our fleeting acquaintance.”

The hug strains to squeeze my insides out, although given my physique I am in no danger and yet I can’t deny the warmth and sincerity of the embrace. I dug deep into the memory of the two humans Griffin devoured and rings given, symbolised friendship, paying off favours and yet for her, definitely a different meaning. Why can’t all humans be the same I curse as the guilt of future betrayal begins to manifest not the opposite.

“Would this be similar to an engagement?” The awe in her voice is unmistakable, the joy surfacing from the depths of her heart undeniable and I am sorely tested to make an excuse and leave, only I haven’t thought of an alternative solution to my problem which doesn’t include using her. The words using her repeat in my head and I, therefore, try to be – less encouraging.

Soft as velvet I reply. “Would you understand if I said no, our moments together fleeting, and we would need to observe a proper courtship?”

Her voice deadpans, functional. “My parents are dead, there is no one to give me away, no one to say what is right or wrong with our love and we are in a wilderness far away from custom and proper ceremony.” Her hands knead my flesh under them and then in a voice of rose petals and honey she continues, “You have my heart already, I beg you to take my hand and declare yourself mine as I will, with all my heart declare myself yours.”

The slit openings in my leather armour for my wings offer a path for her warm tears. They are many and cold by the time they reach my waist and the thin long cotton pants Arsu provided me.

“You have met my companion?”

The sobbing stops in an instant and she replies with a harshness to her voice. “The half-snake girl, thing?”

“We are companions of convenience trying to defeat a common foe. Nothing more I assure you.”

I wait for a response. None. I am uncertain if I should continue and now the silence is awkward. I need to push on.

“The ring is a family heirloom and holds a spirit of one of my ancestors. To say the ring is truly precious to me is an understatement and I would search this world until my final breath to recover the ring if ever lost. Do you understand?”

A sharp intake of breath. “And you wish to entrust the ring into my care? A ring you would always return for, without fail?”

“Yes.” I exhale, trying to add weight to the moment.

“My love, I will guard it with my life and treasure it until you return.”

I swallow. Her words – I can’t stop now.

“I need more from you, although I am afraid to ask.”

“Ask my love, ask I wish to prove myself.” Her voice is throaty now. “I promise my whole being to your service and willingly fulfil any duties you request of me.” Her final words are breathy, her chest diaphragm slapping up against my back. I allow the memory of her smallish pert breasts to enter my mind, straining against the fine cotton and lace of her dress … argh. This male form perverts me.

I gulp, unable to help myself. Her passion stirs up a heady emotional mix, which I can’t sort through. Her wanting groin presses against my buttocks in response, two become one in a tight one-sided loving embrace and with a depth of willpower I never thought within me I alternately block off, shove to one side and blatantly ignore her wanton passion and desire, absolutely frustrating this male mind I have adopted. The Lamia within me begins to stir ... not for blood though.

No more time for pleasant careful conversation. I blurt out my requirements. “Take my ring, my ancestor will try to connect with, allow it to do so. The animated dead are fetching Spell Books and my ancestor will be able to confirm them true when you inspect what they recover. Learn Spell Craft side by side with my ancestor, don’t fail me. I need you to be beyond proficient when I return and perhaps, if you achieve this, I won’t require any other to assist in my fight against evil, winning justice for all.”

“Yes, my love!”

I take Alba’s ring from my finger and begin to slip it on hers.

“Yes, YEs, YES, I will succeed, we will be together, forever and you will need no other and want for no one else by your side, I will satisfy your every need, I promise upon our undying love.”

The ring strikes the base of her finger upon the utterance of her final two words. There is a jolt, a spark of lightning perhaps. I cannot offer any further explanation. Before my fingers leave the surface of the ring a last desperate message from Alba. “Goddess she has invoked a true love binding, powered by my magic, enabled by your divine presence, what it means I …”

Her hand flexes and is withdrawn from the embrace, I spy her admiring the engravings on the gold ring at the edge of my vision.

In floating whimsical words, she announces my doom. “Did you feel the spark? Our undying love? Please say you did, you must have, a bright burst of red light, two halves each with a straight edge fusing perfectly and each with a generous curve opposite.”

“Yes, I felt the magic.” I should’ve lied and yet at the moment, a will greater than my own took over.

“Our magic my love, our magic sealed by the ring of your ancestor, better than an engagement ring.” Her hands return to their embracing, although noticeably lower, on my hips with her voice now sensual. “Better than a wedding ring.”

I do the only thing I can, I spin around suddenly and look into her eyes.

“My love!”

Where is the swoon, the fainting?

“Our true love is proven, I can behold the face of the one I love, oh joy of joys.”

I grab her shoulders and gently untangle her embrace from around my hips. Her bottom lip drops and furrows grow deep in her brow and yet I can’t afford to stop. Her adorable face, moment upon moment weaves some spell over me.

“I must go, remember your promise and await my return.” I then sprint away. I don’t look back, although I am certain she sobs because her falling tears somehow burn into my consciousness causing me to stumble. I recover and double my pace. A sadness rolls into my heart, tears spring from my eyes unbidden and my feet grow heavy, they know they are going the wrong way. The sorrow of separation claims my heart and I drop to my knees. I know she follows in my footsteps; I don’t know how I know; I just know. My heart wishes to tear itself from my chest the beat is loud and strong and I am overcome with grief.

{Subject to Primary Emotional Journey - Sadness: +4% Sentient Dominate. Sentient Dominate 84%}

{Lockout Monster Dominate (57%) due to Soul being Sentient Dominate (84%) default answer of N accepted}

{Lockout Sentient Dominate (84%) due to Soul being Dungeon Dominate (87%) default answer of N accepted}

What?!

I blink, my attempt to process the consequences a momentary reprieve, I dismiss my male form and transform from my Living Basalt form to Lamia and with several moments to spare throw the torn cotton pants away with an assist from the [Mage Hand] spell.

“Where is my true love you bitch?” she screams, as she draws to a halt before me, no sense of fear, foolhardy bravery ignoring reality, challenging a power far greater than her own.

My sanity and with-it self-control return, my response pure venom. “He is mine, an ordinary such as yourself will never be of use to him, able to support him and stand as an equal by his side. Be gone weak fleshy human, your demands are beneath me.” The twist being I leverage the sad depth of our separation to fuel the spite. Is my Lamia form jealous of my Adonis form?

Screaming, suddenly waving a dagger in an overhand strike she charges, red rage consuming her face.

I flutter my wings, backing up slightly before rising, completely avoiding the untrained blow and causing her to fall flat on her face. In the heat of the moment I didn’t notice the pale light shining upon us, not quite [Dancing Lights], although close.

She climbs to her feet like a juggernaut resetting and her screaming words echo across the night air. “Yes, you bitch, I command his gift to me, and his ancestor within obeys me, not you, never you! She knows a handy light spell so when I stab you, I can enjoy the sight of your lifeblood gushing from your body. Now get your scrawny rear down here so I can make you bleed!”

The twists and turns on her molten wrathful face secondary to the scratches and cuts, even her dress torn in places. Modesty is not a priority though, the fleshy exposure of a breast failing to distract even after I helpfully point.

“My breasts belong to him and the children I father with him who I will suckle upon them. Point all you like they are beyond your reach,” she retorts screaming.

I am certain I am unworthy of any future respect given the torment I have knowingly inflicted upon this poor creature as my wings carry me away and I flee the confrontation, bowing my head in shame. Her light unerringly follows. I suddenly lose altitude, gladly descending into the darkness confirming the light doesn’t track me thankfully while placing me conveniently over my discarded pants. Fetching these from the branches of a tree I immediately take flight again, the light once again upon me in a flash. I glance back, her dress flowing behind, hair loose she chases still waving the dagger overhead!

With no more reason to delay I pump my wings, straining for height as I head directly toward the mountainside intending to be over the range before morning. I will miss Alba and hope I haven’t condemned her to the misery of raving mad servitude. I regret toying with the young woman’s emotions my heart burning in sad torment.

--- Alasse POV

I keep my ‘meeting’ the night before to myself. Each of my Quest companions reports to me in the morning. They are generally satisfied the relocation has been completed without incident and the groups for now settling into their patrols of the forest.

“We have two Questor Groups, one by trial within the Dungeon like ourselves and another at the Plinth,” says Son of Swift Spear. Our leader within the Dungeon and yet outside, he and the others defer to me. Many reasons run through my mind, the simplest explanation being the Snake Kin outnumber the other Kin and remain whereas the other Kin chose not to after earlier … disappointments.

Waleran, silent, his fur ears scraping the roof of my tent content to tear into a dried strip of meat. Blessalla shifts her large buttocks upon the low-to-the-ground solid soil platform, some sort of a test I assume or possibly girly fun while sipping a glass of wine. A fully armed and armoured Helmer stoic, at the tent flap, not eager to enter, his unflinching presence terrifying my servant. Such are the members of the Questor Group I belong to.

Son of Swift Spear’s statement awaiting my assessment and response, I shift while lounging on my platform acutely aware they expect a response containing a pearl of great wisdom.

“Once the groups are acquainted with each other the test at the Plinth will be our primary method of Questor Group creation, I sense that is the way of it and at some point, ancient lore will confirm.”

Son of Swift Spear silently nods.

“What concerns you all,” I ask, their passive acceptance, their indifference beginning to grate.

A barking growl answers my question. “We believe our Group is done. We hold the honorific and yet when will each of us be free to join and enter the Dungeon once again. Each of our Kin looks to us for guidance and any absence will be a concern until we return.”

I survey the faces of my companions, their common resignation not difficult to discern. In truth, our Group of all groups is a joining of convenience, fate perhaps smashing us together and the binding weak.

“I won’t give up on our Questor Group and yet I have an announcement.” All of their eyes turn upon me, any idle distraction forgotten. “The reason many Snake Kin remain is simple, they have been sworn to follow me to worship a new being, a Deity, possibly a Goddess.”

They all stand to attention and take at least one step forward, their intimidation pressing. I wave them back, my stiff torso relaxing when they comply.

“I know the Kin have been hurt by the worship of Zeus and yet my Matriarch has instructed …”

Son of Swift Spear spits upon the ground at his feet. “Many a Cat Kin have been duped by this new thing worship and yet now Snake Kin refuse to learn from our grief. Where can Snake Kin see profit in fanatical death?” He brushes away Waleran’s huge reassuring paw from his shoulder, while the grip on his spear visibly tightens.

“I have little choice …”

Blessalla rushes to my side, her paw upon my arm. “Defy your Matriarch dear, we will offer you protection, a sanctuary even …”

With as much kindness as I can gather my eyes fall upon hers. “I appreciate your offer … unfortunately, I must be truthful.” I scan the others, my eyes upon theirs. “While in the Dungeon a creature approached me …” None try to interrupt or question. “She claimed herself an avatar of a new Goddess and once we won our freedom from the Dungeon her influence fully manifested upon me. I am changed … I am no longer the Snake Kin you first met because I am now the Prophet of the Goddess Aphrodite …”

The reason for my reveal is simple. The consecration of Aphrodite’s Temple is imminent and as her Prophet, I would be front and centre and unable to hide or deflect a plain truth soon to be witnessed by many.

“Is there a cure?” whispers Blessalla.

Her paw still upon my arm, I clasp the offering in both hands. “It isn’t a disease and I am content in my purpose.”

A spear shaft hits the firm compact soil of my tent floor with a crack. “How do you discard the costly lesson learnt by the Cat Kin so easily?” His eyes are moist, from sorrow or passion, possibly both, I don’t know and yet for a Lion Kin, the raw display of emotion is powerful. In that instant I know he would defend me with his life, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for him. Before conscious thought registers, I find myself embracing him.

“Lass, you foolish Snake, how can the likes of you forsake the real profit of coin to peddle the false belief of a Prophet, your Matriarch will be certain to tear you down and send another to usurp your position and if she can’t and judges you a threat, destroy you. A certainty as sure as I stand here two paces inside your tent when I swore, I wouldn’t take a single step inside!”

Waleran wraps both Son of Swift Spear and me in his huge muscular arms and whispers, “We are a Questor Group, fate has forged us as one and as one we will face this unknown future together.”

Blessalla and to my great shock Helmer join our group embrace. I needed to endure several utterances of ‘foolish snake’ from all and yet not derisive, the opposite, endearing with an unspoken intent of standing with me. With a Goddess to worship I thought I would never be lonely again, able to utterly trust at least one being during my existence. I then extended my hand to my servant searching for something similar, someone else to always be at my side or at least a pale imitation, my expectations not high of course. I realise now, while in the centre of this warm embrace, I didn’t need to search at all, these four Kin with me by their actions insistent on confirming our bond, inserting themselves into my life unconditionally and beyond price.

“Mistress … visitors, many visitors …” My servant’s voice is weak, trembling with fear.

My companions release me in an instant, and I hurry to the tent flap, knowing without looking my four companions remain close behind, having my back as I duck through.