I slept for the rest of the night, refreshed and ready for the day ahead. I returned to Cloud Goat form with a new plan: fight the oil toads toad to toad. I’ve been neglecting the actual combat training in lieu of cheap tricks, but now that I have enough combat-worthy spare forms, it’s time for a more direct approach. When I found a deep pool of oil, I landed towards the side of it, and shifted into E rank Oil Toad form.

A viscous, black liquid poured out of me, which I didn’t bother suppressing. Outside of a mana well, the little amount of mana usage an E rank typically uses in its neutral state roughly matches what the neutral mana regenerates. Unlike regular toads, its front legs felt just as strong as its back, with claws on the ends of both front and hind legs. Its mana sense was strong, giving me a keen sense of the oil mana residing within the pool. A more concentrated spot laid towards the bottom, unmoving.

I peered over the edge, my eyes easily able to pierce the black liquid, and confirmed its identity as another E rank Oil Toad. It breathed steadily, and did not react to my presence. Asleep, I presume. I may be able to use this opportunity to slay the monster before it wakes, but again, that would defeat the whole purpose of my coming here.

I puffed out my chest, croaking a song of challenge. The toad’s eyes fluttered as it stirred, and it shook off its slumber. It stared back at me, refusing to croak back or move.

Alright, if you don’t come to me, then I’ll come to you.

I dove down into the oil burrow, and only then did my opponent react. It kicked off the ground beneath it, outstretching its tongue to strike me. I extended my claws in front of me and blocked the blow. Its tongue is surprisingly strong, preventing my claws from tearing into it. The momentum from its kick slowed, so it outstretched its webbed fingers and swam in my direction. When it came within striking range of me, it clawed at my eyes. I stretched my arms out to block the blow with my claws, but remembered the sparks our species produced when they touched. At the last moment, I retracted my claws, and palmed against its arm to deflect the blow. It used the momentum of my own strike to turn itself, and extended its tongue to add to its angular momentum and shift itself beneath me. Before I could react, it raked through my stomach with its hind claws.

My innards spilled, and my vision began to darken. Before losing consciousness, I tried to turn to face it, but its second hind claw raked against me, slashing my chest, and kicking away from me.

It finished its rotation and faced me, and croaked once more. The last thing I saw before death took this form was the toad turning away, returning to the bottom of its pit to sleep, not giving me a second thought.

I returned to my subspace, and viewed the wounds on the lifeless body of the toad whose form I took. On equal footing, my opponent defeated me effortlessly. Its movements were superior, natural, and practiced. Perfectly suited to its body, in a way only a monster of its ilk would ever do.

I would not have thought to turn using my tongue, nor shorten the distance of a turning strike using my hind claws. Though these monsters may be young, they have intrinsic and practiced knowledge of how to use their bodies. I was merely imitating them, and poorly at that.

To win in a fight against them, in their own form, with equal strength, would likely take weeks of practice. And if I do try and succeed at beating them at their own game, would I really be a better fighter for it? Is it wise to practice a thousand movements that are only useful for a form that I don’t even know if I’ll use commonly for combat?

No. Though a mage with a thousand spells may be better than a mage that has perfected one, a warrior must perfect their own hammer to make the world their nails.

But I am neither mage nor warrior, so what should my combat style be? Unlike most warriors, I have access to too many tools to choose just one. But unlike most mages, I can’t simply switch spells at a moment’s notice to fit a situation. Five minutes to switch forms is too long. What do I have, then?

Space spells? Too slow for practical use.

Enchantments? I don’t have any right now, and they’re too expensive to have a lot of. Besides that, any powered can use them. They’re not unique to me, though they may pair nicely with any forms capable of holding multiple.

I can choose advantageous forms for fights I can prepare for, which is most of them considering my immortality, but I don’t have many forms to choose from yet.

I’ll have to figure it out eventually. For now, all I have access to is dirty tricks, and two forms with more might than I have any right to.

Taking the form of the D rank oil toad, I portaled out of the subspace, and met face to face with the toad who had defeated me minutes before.

I didn’t give it the chance to initiate, striking out with my right claw. Either due to surprise or my greater speed, it could not dodge fully, and took a glancing blow to the eye. It kicked into high gear, darting around me until it found an opening. It clawed at me again, which I blocked directly, skin against claw. I stuck my tongue to its face, then whipped it against the side of the burrow.

It was afraid now, feeling my strength a whole tier above it. I swam casually towards it, preparing to finish it with the next blow. But it did not move away, or attempt to strike. Instead, it brought its claws together.

My eyes widened. “You wouldn’t” I croaked.

It would.

---

I stared in horror as the D rank toad burst into flames. The fire spread instantly from it to every drop of oil in its terrarium, engulfing and filling it with smoke. The bugs I had gathered within its terrarium — those that had not died in the initial fire — dropped one by one, unable to survive inhaling the smoke. Cracks webbed across the terrarium, and shattered, its contents fading into the void.

I should have seen this coming. A cornered rat will bite back in any way it can, and when survival is impossible, taking the aggressor with you is a matter of course.

There goes one of my best forms. Unfortunate, but a learning experience nonetheless.

I left my subspace once more in Cloud Goat form, witnessing a similar scene to the first exploded toad burrow. A thunderous roar echoed in the distance, shaking me to my core. What is that? It sounds distant, but if I can hear it from here, and feel it from here, then it must be dangerous. Perhaps it’s what the adventurers tried to warn me of.

I hurried my sampling and phasing process, then floated out as soon as I could; flying in the opposite direction from the monster. I have no idea what it is, and therefore no way to prepare to fight it. I’ve already lost two forms today, and I don’t want to lose another.

About thirty minutes later, I spotted another oil burrow from above. It was far darker and more viscous than the ones before. A D rank oil toad’s burrow.

If I can kill this, I’ll be able to recoup my losses. But how? Even if I could beat it in a fair fight, it’ll flip out at the last moment and take us both out.

I can’t lure it out with my Flytrap form. If the last toad I’d seen of this rank is anything to go by, its reaction speed and strength would far outweigh my ability to entrap.

Can I send a gravity bomb down while it’s sleeping? No, this oil is too thick to penetrate with a space bomb.

I can’t just leave it, though… Perhaps I can take the risk? Whatever that monster is didn’t react to the first explosion, and didn’t arrive in time to catch me after the second. Who’s to say I won’t escape this time as well? And even if it does catch me, there’s no guarantee it can catch me if I just fly away.

I floated up hundreds of feet into the air, until I felt reasonably sure I was outside the explosion radius. I phased a bundle of sticks in front of me, chomping on them to prevent them from falling. I released my charge into them all at once. The rapid temperature singed them, but they exploded from the intense and instant shock. I shook my cloud-fur for another ten minutes to build up charge, and did it once again, this time slowly releasing the charge. A fire lit at the inner edge of the bundle within my mouth. I dropped the sticks before they could cause any real damage. As they fell, the weak flicker of flame blew out.

Ten more minutes passed, and I tried again. This time, when the flame started, I dropped it and immediately caught it by the other end. I waited a few moments for the fire to spread, and when it engulfed nearly the entire stick, I dropped it. This bundle reached the ground still alight, but missed the oil pit by several feet. I adjusted my position to account for this, and on the fourth attempt, it landed directly in the oil pit.

Unlike the less viscous E rank oil, this tar-like substance did not explode so vigorously upon contact, Instead, the fire spread quickly across the surface, projecting a loud and constant hiss as the fire consumed the burrow. The smoke rose, covering the sky where I had been. I descended and landed towards the side, shifting to pigeon form while waiting for the fire to die down. On the off chance that something goes wrong, this form is slightly quicker, and a lot more expendable. And go wrong it did.

Suddenly, the D rank toad burst through the burning tar, landing on the opposite side of the pit. It screeched and rolled, trying to smother the fire against the muddy marsh.

I hesitated to stop it. This fight was predicated on the idea that I could kill it without a real fight. Now that it’s out, that idea is no longer viable.

The toad exploded the burning tar surrounding it away in a fraction of a second, then turned its attention towards me. Before it could lunge, a roar sounded in the distance.

The toad looked in my direction, but ultimately decided that escaping was its priority over revenge. It burrowed down and away from its previous home, filling the trail it left behind with tar as it dug.

Another roar sounded, closer this time. Much closer. I turned to fly away, but before I was even a hundred feet up, a third roar came; this one hundreds, thousands of times louder. My eardrums ruptured, and a high pitched ringing noise replaced all sound. It shook the earth, rippled the mud, and blew away the smoke in mere moments, revealing the monster’s terrifying form.

An alligator monster, much like the one I’d seen before. But this one was hundreds of feet long, covered in blackened, hardened scales that sharpened into points, and a tail twice as long as its body that flattened out into a fleshy oval.

I continued my ascent, trying to get away before it noticed me. The monster inhaled, and with just the force of its breathing, overpowered my flight. I hovered in place as I tried to escape its pull for a moment before being sucked directly into its jaws.