As Leximea Bloodclaw silently followed her master out of the tower, she continued to stare at the walking, talking enigma. The beautiful woman with hair like waves of platinum over heterochromatic eyes somehow reached adulthood without knowing how to summon her mana.

Her nose twitched as Ray walked by and she was assaulted by her scent. It was bloody, dark, and heavy but sprinkled with lavender and springtime.

Ray smelled of destruction and yet, at the same time, she smelled of peace. Leximea took a step back, her fur standing on end as she tried to understand exactly what kind of being she had just seen.

She recalled the stories her parents used to tell her. Stories about the five immortal races who used to rule this world.

The elves, who embodied grace and nature.

The dragons, strength and power incarnate.

The fae, magical entities that consumed the light.

The seraphim, the rulers of life and darkness.

The slimes, with unlimited potential and the right to be absolute.

Though no living beastkin had met a member of these races, it was said that their ancestors fought wars with these beings. Sometimes they fought against them and sometimes they fought side by side.

One thing that Leximea remembered was the description of their scent, passed on so that the Bloodclaw Tribe might never again anger those who must not be angered. Every member of the immortal races always had two contradictory scents: they smelled of destruction and of peace.

“What in Jocelyn’s holy bosom was that?” Jantzen growled.

Peter shrugged.

“Think she’s another talent like your cousin?”

Jantzen dismissed the suggestion with a shake of his meaty head, his robe fluttering as ripples rolled through his body. “There are no talents like him. He’s the strongest. She might be a few levels below him though.”

“What do you think? Master Rambalt said you already know her?” Peter faced Kelsey and asked.

She shrugged.

“We’ve met, but I can’t say I know her. She respawned in the temple two days ago, but nobody around here seems to know who she is. Also, within a day of respawning she somehow obtained a letter with Lord Maxwell’s magic signature.”

Peter whistled in admiration. “Lord Maxwell? She’s the real deal then. We have to get her on our team.”

Kelsey turned and her long, blonde hair fluttered as she started to walk away.

“I still haven’t agreed to join your team and I don’t plan on becoming an adventurer,” she called back.

Peter smiled mischievously.

“Oh, you will,” he muttered softly so that Kelsey couldn’t hear.

Leximea overheard with her sharp ears and grimaced.

“Slave! Let’s go!” Jantzen shouted, swinging his staff. Leximea ducked under the blow and hissed, baring her teeth at the fat lump.

“She’s still got some fight left in her,” Jantzen observed. “You want to have a go at breaking her at the inn, Peter?”

Peter shook his head.

“I prefer humans. I’m not yet desperate enough to rely on beasts to please myself."

Leximea took another step back, then stopped as she felt a heavy pressure on the chain dangling from her left wrist. The chain links that were coiled lightly on the ground beside her suddenly felt as if they weighed a ton.

Leximea cried out as her shoulder dislocated and she crashed to the ground, her wrist pinned by the overbearing weight.

Jantzen stood over her, leering with eyes full of malice. He held his staff in both hands, raising the golden rod overhead.

“Let’s try this again.”

The staff descended.

***

As fascinating as the whole ‘magic’ thing was, the prayer log was keeping me thoroughly occupied. While Ray was introducing herself to her instructors and getting ‘acquainted’ with her fellow students, I used the time to address my huge backlog of prayers.

I couldn’t help but feel that there must be another way, though… it didn't seem possible for a single person to address each of these prayers individually. Even after filtering out all the ‘thanks for the food prayers’ on auto-respond, I could only watch in amazement as the number of prayers continued to rise.

674,532 unread messages!

In other words, no matter what I did, I still had an aggravating blinking red light at the edge of my vision, taunting me with the ever-growing number.

It felt depressing reading them too. People asked me for all kinds of things that I wanted to give them, but I just… couldn't.

Rudy the Gnome asked me how to become a great swordsman.

Issylra the Naga expressed her desire to attract her ideal minotaur.

Steve the Human… well, he seemed like an interesting guy. First, despite being human his prayers were coming to me. That would mean that he didn't currently follow an Overseer, which obviously caught my attention. He asked for a way to become a paladin and a dark knight at the same time. Also, he said he wanted to learn how to breakdance.

I wasn’t sure where he wanted to go with all that, but he seemed interesting enough. I kind of wanted to meet the guy.

Still, it was promising to see the huge number of prayers coming my way in a constant stream. The other Overseers may have created an effective soul farm by restricting their followers to humans, but they made a mistake. They didn’t account for the possibility of a new Overseer coming in and sweeping up followers amongst those who are being persecuted.

Certainly, I would have to proceed carefully though. Having read many stories about goblins, orcs, trolls, minotaurs, and other monsters, I would have to make sure that I didn’t become responsible for elevating evil creatures to positions of immortality and power. It would probably be a real chore walking that fine line, but I could do it if I kept my mind open and my heart free of judgment.

I glanced over at Ray as I was pondering that. Someday, she would be at the core of my church. I would have to raise her well...

I froze as I took in the unexpected view.

What the hell happened while I was looking away?

***

Ray, observing from behind a nearby building, winced as the rod struck the young slave again and again. She had turned around when she noticed the smell of blood. She noted Jantzen’s delighted smile. He continued to swing again and again, the poor girl long since forgetting how to whimper.

Vague memories surfaced in Ray’s mind. They were indistinct and fleeting, almost as if they were on the verge of disappearing.

She saw hunched forms on the ground before her. The rattling of chains echoed from the depth of her mind. Waves of rage and hatred seeped into her heart, dying it crimson and black. She tried to take a step forward, barely managing to brace herself against the wall as tears streamed down her face.

Ray slapped her own cheek, attempting to break herself away from the clutches of the dark, sinister memories. She shivered and her body broke out in cold sweat. She leaned heavily against the building, sliding down until she was resting on the ground.

“What are these memories? Why was I in so much pain…? Who am I…?” she muttered, resting her head against her knees.

She sat like that for a long moment until she heard another thump, and she lifted her head. The fatso was still at it?

Ray slapped herself once more, driving away the gloomy thoughts.

She stepped out from her hiding place and approached Jantzen from behind. She winced as he struck the slave once more. Ray broke into a silent run. As the staff descended on its final arc, Ray reached out and grabbed the end before it could strike the poor girl bleeding on the cobblestone.

“I’d tell you to pick on someone your own size, but there doesn't seem to be any others in this town,” Ray muttered, her tone rising playfully. She hoped that by smiling, she could hide the dark emotions seething beneath her skin.

“Is that a fat joke?” Jantzen questioned. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “I don’t like fat jokes.”

“Well, at least you’ll never be a narcissist then,” Ray replied with a wink. She turned her back to Jantzen and reached down to pull up the barely conscious slave.

Peter coughed and covered his mouth as he looked away. His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Meanwhile, Jantzen took an angry step forward, reaching his hand out to grab Ray from behind.

“You think you’re clever, eh? That right there happens to be my property. If you touch it without my permission, I’ll have you arrested for theft.”

“Oh?”

Her vision tinted red as she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of warm, fresh blood. Her fake smile twitched as a wave of excitement rolled through her, overtaking her inner rage and sorrow. She gently lifted the battered slave and turned to face Jantzen once more.

“I’m quivering. Please, do try your best.”

Jantzen grimaced, his expression frozen between shock and displeasure.

“I’m not kidding, you know! My cousin is Prince Douglas, and my father is a duke of this kingdom. I could have you arrested for interfering with me!”

Ray ignored the fat man’s threats and attempted to step past him. She didn’t know how much merit his words had, but any nervousness she might have felt was being thoroughly suppressed by the bloodlust she was barely holding in check.

Besides, Sister Eileen could probably help her deal with some lame old ‘duke’ or whatever. What mattered right now was that this idiot wanted to harm the poor girl in her arms.

Peter reached out and placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder.

“Now, now. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we talk this out?”

Ray flinched and then hissed as she felt a strange sensation. Something foreign seemed to be seeping into her. She paused and examined the feeling. It was somewhat similar to the mana she managed to summon before but this one had been refined and tuned towards some kind of purpose. The mana oozed into her and slowly approached her mind.

Ray summoned her own mana, filling the air with the powerful scent of delicious blood. The aroma was appealing enough to overpower the scent of the actual blood that was staining her new cloak. She directed a fierce glare at the puny boy who dared to try and use some unknown magic on her.

“Let go or I will rip your arm off and feed it to the fat pig over there!”

Peter cried out and quickly retracted his arm. He fell backward onto his rear and desperately pushed against the ground, crawling away from her as his senses screamed at him to get away as fast as possible.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily!” Jantzen shouted, snapping his fingers.

Ray stumbled as an enormous weight pulled down and yanked the catgirl out of her arms. She heard an ominous cracking sound followed by an agonized scream.

She looked down and saw that the catgirl’s left arm was bent strangely, blood pouring out near a fragment of bone protruding from her skin. Ray reached down and gingerly pried at the heavy shackle. She found that she was able to lift it with some effort, but the slave screamed every time she touched it so she decided to leave it for now.

Instead, she whirled around to face the fat piece of trash who would treat a young girl like this. Jantzen was gloating, his smug eyes looking down on her.

Ray walked up until she stood directly in front of him. He towered over her and, for a very brief second, she felt short. She reached out and grabbed the man by the wrist. She pulled while twisting her body and Jantzen cried out in surprise as his feet left the ground and he smoothly flipped over her head and smashed into the ground with a meaty thump.

Jantzen remained on the ground, gasping for air while Peter looked on in awe. Neither of them would meet Ray’s half-crazed eyes as she laughed.

“W..what..? H...h...how?” Jantzen wheezed.

“Turn the weight of the chain back to normal!” Ray ordered.

Jantzen obeyed and snapped his fingers. She shot him a menacing smirk and waved goodbye as she walked over to the prone form of the catgirl. Her smile turned warm and gentle as she reached down and carefully lifted the slave into her arms once more. She tried her best not to aggravate the girl’s arm as she started to walk towards the exit from the Magic Quarter.

She heard a faint whisper behind her.

“You’ll regret this!”

Ray had no idea what kind of consequences her actions might have but she couldn’t help how her face twisted as her expression lit up with delight. She resisted the urge to shudder with excitement for fear of hurting the catgirl further.

Still, she started to giggle. The melodic sound filled the air as she walked carefully and confidently into the crowds of people who turned to stare at her. Whether they were staring at the injured catkin, the bloodstains on her cloak, or the fact that a young woman was laughing while carrying a dying person, she wasn’t sure.

There might be consequences for her actions here later but she didn’t care. There were only two things that mattered. She did what she set out to do, and most importantly, it was fun.

Using her strength to suppress and thrash, scaring the scrawny boy with a glare, saving the poor slave, and otherwise putting those arrogant pieces of trash in their place...

Wouldn’t it be great to experience that sensation again?