Pudge had no idea what to do. Even as he lay on the bare earth, everything felt wrong. He had too many thoughts. Too many emotions. And too few legs. He pushed himself to his knees, studying his body. Everything had changed, and not just a little. The little man had explained everything, telling him that he couldn’t progress to the next plane in his old form. He’d claimed that monsters weren’t allowed to ascend. But Pudge was a special case, and because of his bond to Zeke, he’d been given the opportunity to transform into something called a beastkin. The alternative was to cease to exist, so it was an easy choice.

But now, Pudge was beginning to regret the decision.

It was as if he’d spent his entire life – short though it had been – with a blanket thrown over his mind. It had suffocated his feelings, restricting them to almost as much as it had smothered his ability to reason. But now, his eyes were open. Now, he could see clearly, and he was suddenly embarrassed at his childish, animalistic behavior.

Looking down, Pudge saw a pair of paws. No – they were hands, even if they bore wicked-looking claws. Four fingers. A thumb. He flexed his right hand, marveling at the dexterity. As a bear, he’d thought himself capable of anything. But now? He saw that he’d been nothing but a clumsy animal. He turned his hand over, noticing the black fur that ran along his knuckles and up his arm. The rest of his body was similarly hirsute, covered in that same fur.

The only characteristic that seemed largely unchanged was his head, which still bore the familiar shape, a snout, and his single horn. The other had been torn off in the battle against the undead, and no amount of healing had been able to regrow it.

His torso and legs were all corded muscle and thick, black fur. However, that black fur was accented by red streaks that flowed up his arms and legs and spread out along his torso, looking almost like the rivers of magma he’d seen in the obsidian cave so long ago. His newly freed mind reasoned that it was due to his nature as an infernal bear.

But was that what he was, anymore? Or had he been transformed into something else? He had no idea. Nor did he have any way to find out. So, he rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks in his muscles. He felt strong. Stronger than he’d ever felt before, in fact.

Which was a good thing, because only a moment later, his sensitive nose picked up an unfamiliar scent. Almost as soon as the odor registered in his mind, something burst through the nearby bushes.

Animalistic instinct was the only thing that saved him.

The creature, which looked like a combination of hunting cat and insect, launched itself at him. Propelled by three sets of legs, it moved with alarming alacrity.

But Pudge was a veteran of hundreds of battles, and though he was in an unfamiliar body, he responded with well-learned instincts. Even so, the thing was incredibly fast, and Pudge’s dodge only allowed him to avoid the brunt of the attack. Its wicked claws sliced through his thick hide with ease, sending a spray of Pudge’s red-and-black blood misting into the air.

He let out a roar and tried to return the injury with Hellfire. But to his surprise, nothing came out. That had never happened before. Even directly after his transformation, he had instinctively known how to use his new form. Back then, spewing a column of Hellfire at a monster was as easy as breathing. Since then, his breath had become increasingly more potent, but using it had always come naturally. So, having it suddenly fail was more than just a surprise. It rocked Pudge to his core.

But he was no novice to battle, so he maintained his wits enough to narrowly avoid the cat-bug’s next pounce. As it passed him by, he struck out with his claws, and when they connected with the monster’s side, he was rewarded with the sound of a cracking carapace. More, the blow carried with it enough force to send the creature rocketing away to where it collided with a sturdy oak tree.

That’s when something clicked in Pudge’s mind, and he realized that he was doing things all wrong. As a bear, he’d pushed the Hellfire out of his mouth. But as…whatever he’d become, he needed to use his hands. So, he circulated his mana and redirected it toward a pair of runes in his forearms. Those runes drank deeply of the energy, and an instant later, a thick bar of Hellfire erupted from his hands.

The cat-bug, which had just begun to rise, was bathed in the red-and-black flame. It shrieked, and a second later, the sound was joined by the whistle of steam escaping from within its chitinous body. Then, suddenly, it burst apart, showering Pudge in cooked bits of white meat that smelled surprisingly like the crab he’d eaten back in the desert.

Either way, the monster was dead, and for the first time ever, Pudge felt an influx of energy that he’d heard Zeke refer to as experience. It was just a single drop when he had an entire bucket to fill, but it was still intoxicating enough that he suddenly understood why his companions had been so driven to advance. As a monster, his advancement was wholly different, and though he didn’t really remember the details – they hadn’t seemed all that important at the time – he could recall that it was only tangentially tied to killing other creatures. In fact, his clouded memories suggested that time was a much bigger factor; it was only because of his bond with Zeke that Pudge had advanced so quickly.

The beastkin didn’t have long to ponder such things, because the dying monster had attracted a significant amount of attention from the forest’s predators. And while Pudge felt confident in his abilities, the fact remained that he was in an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar body. Staying and fighting would have been stupid. Especially considering that his ascension had brought him to a new plane that was home to much more powerful creatures.

So, Pudge gathered himself and took off through the forest. His gait was ungainly, and he nearly tripped a number of times. His instincts, born from years of experience as a quadruped, told him that his legs weren’t working quite right. But he was aware enough to recognize that he just needed to grow accustomed to his changed body. With that in mind, Pudge focused on controlling his body.

In the past, when he’d become enamored with the stealthy hunting cats in the mountains, Pudge had spent months perfecting his stealthy capabilities. Now, he used similar discipline to measure his steps and keep his body under control. Still, it wasn’t easy, especially with a horde of hungry monsters closing in. However, he managed to fall into a rhythm as he wove between the trees, even daring to leap over fallen limbs, rocks, and a couple of creeks.

Once he got the hang of it, Pudge was astounded at how well his body responded to his instructions. As a bear, he was strong, fast, and durable. But as a beastkin, he had the stamina to run for miles at full speed. Idly, he found himself wondering if he was even considered a monster anymore. If not, did he have a status like his friends? A single thought answered that question when it suddenly resulted in a table flitting across his vision. He was so surprised that he stumbled over a small rock and went tumbling to the ground.

He didn’t rise, though. In fact, he barely paid attention to his surroundings at all because the entirety of his attention was locked on the screen in front of him.

Name

Pudge Blackwood

Class

Daevic Murhaaja

Level

25

Race

Beastkin (Infernal Bear)

Alignment

Unchosen

Titles

n/a

Path

Ferocity (E), Stealth (F)

Strength (S)

15

Agility (B)

6

Dexterity (B)

5

Endurance (A)

12

Vitality (C)

7

Intelligence (D)

4

Wisdom (D)

4

Resistances

Fire

Ice

Water

Earth

Wind

Nature

Arcane

Poison

Disease

S+

D

D

D

D

D

D

D

D

He had a status. An actual status, which meant that he wasn’t considered a monster anymore. Pudge had already suspected as much from the influx of energy he’d felt after killing the cat-bug, but the fact that he had a status was enough to solidify what had just been suspicions.

That meant he probably had skills, too. Sure enough, when he navigated to the appropriate screen – which was as intuitive as thinking about it – he saw:

[Hellfire] (F) – Call upon your demonic nature to summon one of the most destructive forces in the universe. Upgradeable.

[Concealed Steps] (G) – Through diligent practice, you have developed the ability to move without alerting your enemies. Upgradeable.

[Nether Claw] (E) – Skill locked. Complete quest to gain full access to [Nether Claw].

Pudge shook his head. He liked the look of that last skill, but he was far prouder of the second. He’d worked long and hard to gain proficiency in stealth, so he was extremely happy to see that the Framework had rewarded his efforts. Still, he was a little annoyed that [Nether Claw] was locked behind some sort of quest.

After a moment, he realized that he was actually reading, which was a skill he’d never possessed. But right now, he didn’t have time to wonder how that was possible, so he just chalked it up to an effect of the Framework; after all, what good would a status sheet do if you were unable to read it? Either way, he couldn’t focus on that mystery because he was still in what amounted to hostile territory.

With that in mind, Pudge pushed himself back to his feet and embraced [Concealed Steps]. When he sensed it take hold, he felt somehow less substantial. It was just in time, too, because a moment later, another cat-bug burst through the brush. It raised its chitinous head and sniffed the air as if confused. Pudge backed away and crouched in the shadows.

A second after that, another cat-bug joined the first, and another came a moment later. The three monsters spread out, searching for his scent. Pudge’s skill must’ve done something to mask his odor, because the creatures seemed incapable of detecting him. And they weren’t happy about it, either.

The first cat-bug let out a screech, then bounded away. The others followed, leaving Pudge alone in the forest. However, he didn’t relax. Instead, he remained in place, kneeling there for two hours before he dared to let his skill drop. When he did, he heard a snort behind him, followed by a rough, gravelly voice saying, “Nice skill, kid. If I wasn’t lookin’ for you, I wouldn’t have known you were there.”

Pudge wheeled around to be faced with a humanoid monster that looked like a strange amalgam of man and pig. But this monster was wearing rough, leather armor.

“What?” Pudge said. He’d meant it as a growl, but the distinct word somehow came out of his mouth. Shocked, he worked his jaw; he’d tried to speak before, but his old physiology just hadn’t been up to the task. That, along with everything else about his body, seemed to have changed.

The pig-man leveled a spear in Pudge’s direction, saying, “Who are you? And why have you come into the Pale Moon territory? And…why are you naked?”

Suddenly, Pudge felt more self-conscious than he’d ever felt before, and he had no idea why. As a bear, he’d never worn clothes – unless you counted the vest Abby had once tried to make him wear; he’d ripped it to shreds – so he didn’t know why he felt embarrassed of his nudity now.

But he was.

Thankfully, the pig-man reached into the satchel at his waist and retrieved a bundle of rough cloth, which he tossed to Pudge. As Pudge caught it, the pig-man said, “You can have my spare pants for now. What’re you doin’ out here? You lost?”

“Uh…Pudge…new…here,” Pudge managed to say. The words felt funny in his mouth, and they were barely intelligible. But he hoped they would be enough to convey his meaning. Not for the first time, he wished Zeke was around to do the talking. He was good at that kind of thing.

The pig-man cocked his head to the side, and Pudge got the chance to really take in his appearance. Like Pudge himself, he had two arms and two legs, but his hands only had three digits. Otherwise, what Pudge could see of his body was covered in short, bristly fur, and his head had the familiar features of a wild boar, complete with a pair of gleaming tusks, one of which was studded with a sparkling red gem.

“You’re freshly ascended, ain’t you?” the pig-man asked. “Was you a monster? Or some bear-man race?”

Pudge looked down in embarrassment as he forced out a single word. “Monster.”

“And a young one, looks like,” the pig-man reasoned. “Old Heron was a monster, too. But he was almost two-hundred years old when he ascended. How old are you, kid?”

Pudge shrugged his broad shoulders. He truly didn’t know how old he was because, as a bear, he’d never really marked the passage of time. In fact, his whole life had blurred together, with only a few major events remaining clear. He remembered the high points well enough, but the days in between were more muddled. Had they always been that way? Or was it a symptom of his ascension and subsequent transformation? Pudge didn’t know.

“What’s your name?” the pig-man asked.

“P-pudge.”

“Well, Pudge,” said the pig-man, lowering his spear. “I’m Flick. Now, do you want to come with me back to my village? Or do you want to keep going on your own? If it’s the first, we’ll welcome you with open arms. Not so many beastkin around that we’ll turn a newcomer away. But if it’s the latter, I’ll tell you that those caprisects that were following you were the weakest things around here. Little more than scavengers, in truth. So, I hope you can take care of yourself if you choose to go it alone.”

Pudge’s initial reaction was to turn down Flick’s offer. After all, he fully intended to reunite with Zeke. However, aside from a vague sensation that Zeke was somewhere to the east, he had no clue where his companion was. Or more importantly, how far he’d have to travel to find him.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Zeke was going to be sitting still. If Pudge had still been in his familiar quadruped form, he might’ve chanced it. However, with everything being so new, he wasn’t confident he could make it more than a few miles. No – he was better off going back to Flick’s village and waiting on Zeke, even if it rankled on his pride to do so.

So, with his decision made, he nodded at Flick and said, “Pudge will go with you.”

The words came far more easily, which boded well for his ability to communicate going forward. What else the future held, Pudge had no idea.