Alright, tod- HEY STEELBREAKER WHAT THE FUCK I SAY ABOUT DRINKING IN MY CLASS? Fucking pour me a drink, that’s right dip shit. Any dwarf worth there damn beard can smell a pint i a room this size. Gods below that is some vile shit, be better used to clean the rust off my hammer. Anyway, today's lesson is about the spirits that rule our damn world.

Long story short? We know jack shit. We know little bits. We know some people are born with the spirits around them loved and all that fuckry. We know you can act in a way and some fucking magical shit will like you and respond. The main ones we know are earned are death, decay, holy, and purity. SURE you can believe the evil get the nasty death and decay, while the good get the fuckign sheilds and healing. But boys, I think there is more.

Lecture of the drunk blind dwarf magic king, Milk-Eyed Sparkleforge: 245 years ago.

After the dance of the tables I am brought to a random tent. The man in armour walks in it huffing with his helmet of shine on, “Oi fuckers! I found a mage!”

“I pray to th- oh. It is not a big tittied girl with teary eyes. Has he touched you anywhere you did not like?” A moderately attractive women in clean white robes walks up to me with what I think are kind eyes. She grabs me by my hand and pulls me more into the tent so I can see the other per- er… enlightened race. I was told the word person as racist… whatever that means. .

A elf with grass and leaf colored robe over her body covering most of it. She looks up at me, than the man in armour. With a straight face she simply spoke, a very airy voice. This is honestly the first time I have ever met a elf, “Not looking to add to the haram in your head? Wow Eve. Our little knight is starting to use his higher brain.” Her eyes linger on me. Actually is more the pocket that I have Mother’s seed kept in a bag of holding.

“Tulsi! I do not think of you two in that manner! You are valued comrades that I face the horrors of the world with!” I think it was me...But I think the one in white robes looked sad when he said that. I pat her on the back with a smile.

“It is ok. I do not think he meant to step on your feelings.” Mother explained a lot about human feels to me. Same with that bag of bones and anyone else I asked. They told me that love was something intense but less seen than anything else. That the bag of bones almost died from a dwarf love being one of his undead. I will forever spit on the name of that nameless dwarf who could not finish the job.

The girl in white shivered, her eyes showing fear, “H-how d-did you know?”

“Mother and ...Uncle.” I spit that name out, “Taught me some things about reading people. So, why has he dragged me here?” I tilt my head.

“W-well… T-to test your magic… Please stop touching me…” I tilt my head to the other side. I take my hand off of her back and watch as her body slumps, “What spirits do you have? The holy ones just ran away from me as soon as you touched my shoulder…”

That happens? Well… The pile of bones called me a ‘singularity for necrotic magic that can overwrite the existence of its counters’. Whatever that meant. I tried remembering what he said since he said it with so much fever early on. Before the great prank war.

I won that war. I took his head, exited that den of rot, and punted it. I celebrated by napping in the sun in my mother’s home.

“I was born special.” I smile at her. It is true. There are less Nekomata’s in the world than fingers on one of my hands. The girl in purity nods. Those spirits do not like me. They do not think I should exist in this world.

“Well, everyone. This is Ebony!” I am patted on the back again. Damn shiny man, you are petting me wrong.

The elf for once showed visible surprise. The other two were confused by her face. I think. The useless pile of bones called elfs, ‘Useless tree hugging, sober, prudish, boring tall fucks that ever walked these lands.’

I think he meant they are strict with their emotions.

“A Elvish name?” The elf tilts her head at me. I nod. It is easier to explain than a Dyraid name.

“The one who raised me was a elf. My uncle was a dwarf. The village raised me. The elf was the one who named and cared for me the most. I lived a few winters with my uncle studying magic and how to properly barter with the spirits so I use as little mana as possible while keeping them happy.” I smile at them. It took lots of studying to get to the level that I could prank that walking graveyard into tripping and pouncing on his head.

The man in armour for once, takes off his helmet. Under it is an average looking man. Much easier to look at, his figure seems smaller without the helmet honestly. I know you can forge metal to be welcoming of metal, earth, and stone spirits. I know there is some way to make a man’s presence more. To keep a monster’s focus, an audience attention.

Maybe he has that in his armour?

He turns to me with a smile on his face, “This here is a man thrice loved by the spirits. Thrice hated. He has every single affinity else above the norm. If we train him up he could easily get us into rank A!” The man in armour seems excited. I wonder why A rank is so special.

The others seem excited as well. They are packing up stuff so I stand to the side and wait for them to finish, “Our hunt today will be a tribe of goblins that set up near the edge of the Great Emerald Sea. Ebony, you will stay near Eve. She is fantastic with barriaris being a loved of holy and mercy.” I nod.

They gather all their belongings into some sort of packs that they carry on their backs. Backsakes are what I will call them!

The man in armour has put his helmet back on. The sun shines on the annoyingly shiny tin bucket but I can not exactly look away, he is leading the way through this maze of people and tents. Have I mentioned the amount of tents?

I will admit. I have been tempted to start a blaze. A single spark and watch what will happen. It is curiosity. The type of curiosity that ends with being wet, or stung, or sticky, or yelled at, or something bad.

You know it is a bad idea but it is a itch you can not help but scratch. So, I cause a single spark. A smolder in the grass when no one was looking. The ember was next to a rope.

A few minutes later while following the group I feel a mixture of shame, panic and utter enjoyment. I felt a life die and my mana becoming thicker by their death because of my involvement.

By the time we exited the tent city screams were heard. I felt spirits being bargained with. Water being summoned from the air to quench the ground. Earth and stone being raised to smother the flames, oddly even fire spirits are walking off with their fair share of mana. But with every death I feel more stolen mana added onto mine, shoring up my reserves and preventing me from fading form the material world for a even longer time.

~~~

I think the fire killed a lot of things. My mana feels thicker than I have ever expreinced before. I hope too many people did not die, would be inconvenient to blending in.

Anyway! They did not turn around to go help. The one in the pure robes tried to convince us. She really tried. But I think the elf does not like the tents and the armour man has tiny green man murder on his mind. I? I want to flee the scene of the crime. Hopefully it will all calm down by the time we get back and I am not caught for the firestarter that I am… I really hate my impulses. Kinda. They are just inconvenient. The actual act is fun, just dealing with the aftermath…

At some point the girl in the pure robes asked to turn back and help the tnet city. Apparently it is actually called a tent city. Adventures set up tents to live in while they work around areas with monster populations or dangerous places in general. Apparently they do not have many actual buildings as it makes the ‘city’ easier to maintain, no real law force just people with armour and magic that would not take kindly to having their lives threatened or their belongings stolen.

We walk for quite a while to my surprise, we walked till the sun set. The others start to set up camp. A tent is put up quite quickly, a fire is started. Even with the sun being low in the sky and the world itself darkening the fucking man in armour is still shiny. Like, eye hurting shining. Well if I had normal eyes heheh- no… I will not take after a walking bonefest.

No matter how fun is his laugh.

I notice that the elf is staring at me once more without saying a word. Her eyes are unblinking like an owl but intense like a predator defending its home. Very unnerving. Am I am the spirit. She is a talented elf.

The girl in white is kneeling and praying. The holy spirits are communing around her acting like messengers to the gods. The little I know of them is that they are an odd type of spirit. Unnatural in the world, they were made by the gods to help enforce and enact their wills while listening to their pious followers. Mother and the bag of bones never look quite happy when talking about them and they are a sore topic around the village… I never learnt more beyond that they were evil, bigoted, and homodical. That there followers were poor misguided human’s who could of lived peacefully with us if not for them.

I scoot a bit closer to the girl in white robes. The holy and purity spirits recoil in horror and disgust at my presence. They have never given me a chance…

The girl in white robes seems to notice this and her doe like eyes become wide and tearful. Aw...Is she scared of me?

I’ve never been feared. I have been treated like a nuisance but never legitimate fear. After this little adventure, I might as well leave their party and start on my own. I might even make some friends. I will have to teach them how to pat me right while making sure they do not die. Human’ die bizarrely easily for hat some of them can kill.

I move away form the poor girl in white robes and sit under a tree near the edge of the warmth of the fire. I take a breath and offer a bit of my mana to the spirits that follow me. Mostly death, decay, spirit, and fire. The fire seems quite excited with what I have burnt today. Death is as uncaring as usual but they seem saturated form all of the lives that my actions have ended.

You have to worry about the death spirits. The more you kill the more they become saturated with mana and something. This causes things to happen around you as they grow heavy enough with mana to interact with the world without needing traded mana. For most others this could mean there deaths, but for me it means that I could blight the land that I walk on and dull the flames of life all around me.

That would feed the decay spirits but it harms and spites the life spirits that I try to keep in peace with. There acceptance was one of mother’s last gifts, I do not want to lose them.

I think, there is a opposite to the gods. If I would name it, I would say order versus disorder. The gods and their holiness are a sense of order to the world. But, blight is there bane. It is just a theory. Maybe I can find a priest that is not scared of me to test it out.

The fire roars a bit louder as the wood crackles as I feed the fire spirits around us. The ash does not ember as the decay spirits keep it in its new, less whole state. The spirit spirits, confusing I know, are tightly woven, passively consuming little bits of my mana to keep me alive. I do not have a true body, this is the closest that I have. The life spirits make the grass grow greener, the dirt become more, the trees grow heartily.

It is needed to feed them or they may become sluggish to your cries of need.

The others are lying down. Noone has really said anything beyond small talk so I rest my back against the tree that I have been resting on. I close my eyes and enter a light sleep.

~~~

I am awoken by a knife in my throat. Now, that might of killed someone.

I reach my hand to the arm that is holding the knife inside of my neck. It is green, “Are you a goblin?” I tilt my head. My hand is firmly around its tiny wrist pulling its hand back and sliding the knife out of my neck. I send a small burst of mana to the spirits that make up my neck and I feel it reform.

Something clicks as the spirits shift to a ay I command as the same way I think. I stroke flames under its hands skin. I smile as I watch its green skin light up with green neurotic fire. There are no burns, the soul in its hand was burnt to nothing.

I stand up while holding the sobbing child size creature. I take a look around the clearing that the other are sleeping in and feel seven more of these quiet little sneaks around. I feel the one in my hand sob and kick my leg trying to free itself. I coat it in lich flame for a moment.

I let go of its hand and smile as the limp body lies of the forest floor dead. I am glad those flames do not only work on birds and small rodents.

The air around us is heavy with some sort of fog. The goblin that I just killed had some sort of mask on. I wonder what it is. Is it-

I step backwards as one of the child sized creatures runs at me with a sword drawn. I alight him of flame. Green fire dances on and in his skin making a lantern out of a once living being. The death spirits do not ask for mana as they see I am taking lives. The fire consumes the souls of the once living goblins and uses it as fuel for itself. I still feed and direct the spirits.

The six others drop down, simply a lit. It is hard to focus on more than ten with lich fire especially when I was trying to avoid hitting the trees and my new friends.

It takes a bit more mana than I would've liked to convince the air to move the dust that fills the air. I spend the next hour, I think, trying to wake any of them up. The elf was the first to awake. Very violently mind you. A sharp wooden knife pressed to my neck till she realized her mistake. Next she sees the dead bodies around us with mute, horror filled eyes.

“What happened?...” Her voice is still almost ethereal even after just waking up. Elves are weird.

“Goblins… I think, tried to poison and stab us in our sleep? I was up playing with the spirits so I noticed them and burnt them.” I smile at her, I hope I am praised. I like to be praised.

The elf stands up while putting her arrow holder thing on her back. She notches an arrow and starts to look at the poor goblins. There bodies are rotting quite quickly, did I accidentally mix in some decay into the fire?

It is hard to separate the spirits when they gather around you in a form a bit more than the sum of their individual influences. Fire, decay, death, spirit are what make up my fire usually and it is hard to separate them in a combat setting. Apparently still beyond my abilities. That is sad.

I am brought out of my wondering by the Elf retching in a bush. Poor thing. The thing they put in the air must of been bad if that is her first reaction to it. I even thought that elfs had a high poison resistance? Or is that dwarfs? I am unsure. They really glossed over a lot of races.

Elfs equal trees. Dwarfs equal mountains or underground. Humans are like vermin, you find them everywhere and even where you do not want them to be. Some weird things that are a mixture of some animal and humanity. Automations created by magicians giving multiple spirits a single purpose. A lot of races that I can not think of off the top of my head. The ‘enlightened’.

I wonder why I have to play nice with them.

I walk over to the two others. The man in armour is still beyond shiny with next to no light. I am really disliking my night vision a bit. It makes him a pain to look at. So, I ignore him! I nudge the girl in pure robes over and over till she stirs a few minutes later.

The elf has dragged the rotting corpses to the edge of the clearing. The smell of rot is in the air. Not a pleasant smell but much more tolerable than the vile brown liquor that the bag of bones called firewater. That. Was. Not. Water.

The girl in pure robes jerks away from my touch with a scream. I wonder why. It kinda hurt my ears, “Tulsi! Joseph!” She backs away, pointing to me shakely, “Lich! Lich fire! The gods warned of a cat of evil and fire! Vile being! Vile being that needs cleansed!”

That is… mean. I have done nothing to them. I even protected them! What do they have against lich fire? It is wo-

My shoulder jerks back as the elf’s arrow thuds into my shoulder. I look down to it. I look to the elf who is loading another arrow into her bow. I look to the evil girl in pure robes, “You are a bother. I even protected you in your sleep.” I reach up to the arrow, lighting it on fire. I burn the wooden arrows to ash and repair my body while I light lich fire under the elfs skin.

She falls down screaming and clawing and her skin. The string on the bow rots to nothingness while the girl in white prays on the ground. The man in armour is still sleeping on the ground. Poor guy… we will not have to wake…

I look to the elf as I feel holy and purity spirits fight back against my fire. She is touched by the gods now. Almost the same power as my flames. I pour my focus on the elfs hands.

The fire flows like a flood over the force of purity and holiness in the elf's body protecting the rest of her charred and scarred soul and body. She is still screaming, annoyingly and loudly. The evil girl in robes is crying so I start to burn her as well. I focus on her throat so I do not have to listen to her scream as well.

As soon as her throat lights up light fireflies dancing under her skin I switch my focus to the elfs. Her hands are gone, rotten with the bones laying on the ground in front of her. There is a look of pure horror on her face. I stand up and do my best to keep my mana flowing and spirits happy with my offerings against their opposites. I walk by the man in armour, picking up his sword. I hold it in a single hand, dragging the tip on the ground as I step in front of the elf.

I kick her down on her back and plunge the blade into her neck. I feel the resistance of her skin and bones through the metal of the blade. The metal spirits hum in enjoy as they they serve the purpose that they were forged to accomplish. Taking a life. I turn around as I feel the spirits stop responding to me, the ones that I sent to the evil girl in pure robes.

A blast of holy energy blast me in chest. I fall to the ground gasping and in pain. My chest is on fire. I feel the very spirits and beings that make me up are being poisoned by the holy energy. The poison is turning my very being into poison making the creeping burn spread over my chest.

I beg the spirits to turn me to my true form, to shed the spirits that are burning and killing my very being.

A jerk of shifting view lets me see a shining blast past over my head. The girl in pure robes is slapping the man in armour awake and preparing to run. I call fire to me and feel just how much mana that I have burnt to survive the creeping poison that is purity and holiness, “Why… All I did was protect you…” I try to ask her.

She looks me in the eyes. Hers are filled with tears and fear. Is this why everyone is scared of humans? Because they are given too much power, but too much fear so they act out like children with a knife? I back up into the forest, the night filled forest where my fur would help me hide form her attacks, “Oh holy protect of man and light. I beg ye to protect my life and my light. I beg ye to protect the life and lights of those close to me. I beg to ye to protect me and mine from evil and impure, form monsters that lurk in the dark.”

She kneels over the man in armour. Her back is facing the ground and her face to the ground as the holy and purity spirits dance to her words. Her words are starchy and sound like she is speaking through spit and blood while trying to get the words out. The words are empowered and strengthened by her acts and prayer. I run around to behind her and try to step in to attack her from behind. Simple hunter things. I have to kill her. They know who I am, what I am. They will hunt me. They will try to kill me.

I put a paw forward to step into the barrier. My paw burst into flame. Pure white flames that burn and poison my very being, why is this so painful? It feels like I am burning alive. Every inch that the flames touch feel like they are angoy. They are made to hurt, to make my death a painful and traumatizing one. I shed the affected mana and spirits. My world grows blurry as my mana plummets once more. My body demanding I kill something so I may live.

I step away form the clearing. My eyes glaze it over to land on my pact that is inside the barrier… Mother’s seed is inside of it… I have no way to retrieve it… I will have to check in the morning or when they are gone… If they try to take it I will show no mercy.

~~~

During the night I prowl up the goblin fortress. I feel my body become sluggish as I am losing mana to the spirits keeping me inside of the world. I found my first goblin asleep sitting under a tree. I sneak up to him, licking my lips and lighting my teeth and paws in lich fire. I run up to it making not a single sound as my pawed feet help me move silently. I jump and sink my teeth into its neck. Its blood taste bloody. Like licking a old dagged. The flesh is thin, surprisingly thin with very little muscle and fragile bones underneath. I clamp my jaw down and urge the fire to burn its skull down to the bone.

Quickly I fell its body go limp. A rush of stolen mana floods my being making me tremble in joy and relief. I will life. I let out a quiet sob as everything catches up to me. I sit on the dead goblins lap, curling up into a ball with my nose buried in my tail as I shake from fear and panic. I was so close to dying. To fading into the ether and never interacting with the world again as I would have no mana to barter with so I could not kill to gain more. It is the same as death, but you just watch. Forever.

I think a few hours past by as I lie on the cooling and rotting body of the goblin whos neck I tore out. At some point another goblin came to check on him so I tore his neck out as well and started to eat what little meat that I could to refill my mana. Fresh meat has some of the mana trapped inside to help the soul communicate with the body. It is why so many monster like to eat flesh. It is chock full of mana. The head has the most. The gooey pink parts that are in the skull are chock full of it.

It takes some clever mana usage and spirit control to age the skull till it is brittle so I can lick up most of the soft and delicious tissue inside of it. I would of never learned this trick unless it was for mother. She taught me where mana rest in a body the thickest. The heart and the brain. The soul is impossible to consume at my state. So I burn it and use the energy to bargain for more powerful flames. It can get uncontrollable after a while.

The more they are fed. The more wild they grow and less they will tolerate to be controlled. But it is worth it over a long, long hunt like I have planned tonight.

I command the fire into my mouth to hide the glow and light. I feel it settle around my teeth and tongue making my mouth warm and comfortable. I track the trails that the goblins have left. They have made no effort to hide. Branches broken, footsteps in the mud. Grass stopped down and flattened over the course of countless feet treading on them. There is a smell as well. It grows more and more rancid and of rot as I prowl closer to their camp.

I arrive at the edge of some sort of man made clearing. Huts, badly made tents, dug holes in the ground litter this large clearing where countless of those little green men are walking and sleeping everywhere. Bonfires are set up randomly with huts a bit farther to prevent unwanted fires in the clutter of bodies, fabric, and pelts.

I gather as much mana that I could spare and gift it to the spirits with a single command. Kill, burn, rise, kill, rise, kill, rise. Necrotic flames that burn the soul, taint the land, rise the dead. I start it around a bonfire where numerous goblins are sitting around and sleeping, eating.

The bonfire takes on the color of my flames. This gets the attention of the goblins around it. The spirits feed it a burst of mana making the fire explode sending burning logs all over the camp spreading the flames and decay. Some type of gas rises from the dead wood and bodies making more and more explosions sending parts of goblins and wood even farther away from the initial spot. .

I feel a torrent of mana feed back into me. I smile as I climb a tree on the clearings edge and watch as the goblins are burnt, slaughtered by their dead kin, and die feeding me. The apex predator in these woods.

I smile and try to cheer myself up. I almost died...But I lived. I learnt why holiness and purity is despised… Why everyone hates the gods. Unkind, evil beings that need to be struck down form where they rain down heavenly terror… Teach the humans that some of us are good and kind. Teach the elves, dwarfs, the beasts and everything else that we can live with them.

I watch as the shambling still men limp down into the dug holes. I feel more and more mana floods into my as the sun rises. I walk away from my mess and the blighted land. I feel something draw me to it, begging for me to lie in the rotted land and rest there for as long as I exist… But I have things to do. A promise to fulfil to mother. I need my bag back.

~~~

I return to the clearing staying as a cat. Smaller, harder to spot. The tents, most of their belongings, the bags are still here. Practically everything. I look over to the tree where I as resting and I see my satchel on the ground unopened and untouched to my heart uplifting joy.

I am careful still. I slowly stick the tip of my tail forward of my paws and head to make sure if there is any holiness barrair like the one that set me a flame I loss as little mass and mana as possible.

As I carefully walk towards my satchel no field lights me on fire. Good. Very good. I maybe be hypocritical about this but I do not like being on fire no matter how much I enjoy igniting others flesh and souls. Though it is more merciful than usual fire! It does no leave scars and almost always kills!

I arrive at my bag of holding. I go through it with a happy purr as I feel everything is inside of it. Everything is how and where I left it. I command a spirit of air to lift the small pouch off the ground and tie it around my neck. It is easily small enough to be held comfortable there on my neck while being light enough that I hardly feel it. I climb a tree and curl up on a branch as today finally hits me and I crash.

I lost and spent so much mana. I protected those enlightened only to get attacked by the girl in robe proclaiming a ‘god’ told her that I am vile and evil. Poor naive girl. The gods are not good. I was willing to be your friend. But you went and attacked me. So of course I defended myself… At least the man in armour is here not to be a glare in my eyes anymore.

The elf is still on the other end of the clearing rotted through. The life spirits are upset with me for making blighted land and rising the dead. The holy and pure spirits are gone, not even senseable like usual. Everything else dances around me like it is normal. My favorite spirits that make up my being are pleased at the tool of life that I took today.

At least they are happy… I shiver at the thought of the holy magic spreading through my body once more… So painful. It felt worse than being on fire. Than being frozen, stabbed, or anything else. It was nothing but agony. It felt like someone trying to tear my soul and being apart with impossibly strong and brutal hands. It was the worse thing I have ever felt. I was so scared… Mother this world is scary. Those in the pure robes are scary and unkind. The gods are evil. I just want to live long enough to get the chance to go home...