Ranthia was still, somewhat, struggling to accept that she was standing on someone’s Skill. The mana costs and efficiencies boggled her understanding of the System, but it was hard to deny that she was aboard a ship that was painted out of starlight—a constellation made solid—that flew through the sky. It was probably the single most impressive Skill Ranthia had ever seen—even if there was no doubt that the majority of Sentinel Aurora’s class builds had to be dedicated to the [Starship] itself.

  But before she ever worked up the courage to ask about it, they arrived at her stop. As far as she had seen throughout the journey, the region was a wasteland of various shades of tan. Naturally, the military base that was to be her home for the next year seemed to be as bleak as its environment. A crude fortification that—from above—seemed to be dirt and wood with patches of dust-covered canvas protected within the walls. But the [Starship] was already lowering in the sky.

  “Alright, that’s as low as I dare get—go for it!” The Sentinel ordered.

  Ranthia promptly hopped over the side and made her descent. Her own landing was slightly preceded by the dust-inducing thump of four crates impacting the soft bed of sand that waited below. Almost the very moment that Ranthia was on solid ground, the gorgeous ship of stars rose back into the sky with graceful ease.

  Ranthia watched the ship’s departure as she allowed her focus to collapse inward. She had dreamt of it more than once, but she had finally found her way beyond the borders of the Empire of Remus. The military base—however ugly and functional it might be—was to be her home for the next year as she faced the shimagu alongside Remus’ lauded legions. There was a lot to unpack about her situation and her freedom from the Dead Zone—gods and goddesses, she still felt somehow more energized and alive—but she didn’t want to linger too long. She indulged herself only until the pretty ship was gone from sight—the one bit of beauty in a world of lifeless tans and browns disappeared into the clouds and was lost from view.

  Ranthia sighed and lowered her gaze… to find herself surrounded by the business ends of spears.

  It caused more than a minor bit of cognitive dissonance. How in Xaoc’s name had she managed to pay that little attention?! A dozen fully equipped soldiers were just about the exact opposite of stealthy! Stupid very pretty magical ship—not that she could seriously blame it, unfortunately the inattention to her surroundings was all her.

  “She’s our reinforcements! That was Sentinel Aurora that just dropped her off!” An exasperated voice came from behind the forest of steel and solid wood.

  “I don’t care if one of the gods themselves descended down to vouch for her. We keep her under guard until one of our [Healers] can verify that she’s clean!” Another voice retorted.

  Ranthia could respect that level of paranoia and attention to detail on the frontlines of a war against an enemy like the shimagu. Hylla’s death at the hands of a shimagu assassin back in Remus—where it should have been safe—was a life lesson she would never forget. And these men and women lived with that threat day in and day out as they fought against the shimagu from… wherever this base was positioned. For all of the intel she’d been provided on the enemy, the one thing she had never seen was a decent map of the area or the battle lines of the war (which she was mostly certain was how such a conflict worked).

  …Of course, her respect for the cautious—she assumed—woman dropped more than a little when her sensitive ears picked up the woman’s next muttered words, which came a few moments after.

  “I’d get the [Healer] to check the god too.”

  Ah, casual blasphemy. Her former Paladin instincts—which weren’t a thing, probably—twitched with annoyance.

  But before Ranthia could stew for too long on her frustration, a tired looking man wearing a rumpled tunic pushed through the forest of spears to poke her.

  “Clean.” He muttered quietly, but clearly it was loud enough.

  With the unison born of repeated drills, the soldiers pulled back their spears and hurriedly walked away, their heads down. No one really wanted to be recognized as one of the people that pointed their weapon at some VIP dropped off in person by a Sentinel, it seemed. Not that Ranthia bore any ire towards the soldiers that were just doing their job. No, her ire was reserved for the two that remained.

  Ranthia was left facing a younger man—only a few years older than her—who wore full military formal gear, complete with the ridiculous cape. Next to him was a tall woman, slightly taller than even Ranthia was, who was in that amorphous middle age where—depending on her vitality and leveling speed—she could be anywhere from her late 30s to late 60s. Ranthia focused on the pair and let [Divine-Touched Identify] reveal just what she was dealing with. The woman was a Water-aspected [Leader] at level 398 and a Wind-aspected [Warrior] at level 362. The man was an Arcanite-aspected [Leader] at level 340 and a Brilliance-aspected [Mage] at level 321.

  Ranthia saluted the duo. With them both being [Leader] tagged and their levels, it was a fair bet that they were the people in charge of the base. …Even if she was pretty certain the woman was the one that had muttered blasphemous words. It was interesting that the woman was at a higher level, but the younger man was more ostentatiously garbed. Between his uniform and the unfortunate fact that women’s rights had barely even existed for eleven years or so—Ranthia had no doubt that the boorish legions had stuck him in charge.

  “Ranger… er, War Ranger Ranthia, assigned here. …I was told you knew to expect me?” She winced internally as she fumbled her introduction so hard. She mentally chastised herself to get it together.

  “Yes, welcome! I’m Subcommander Malcio, this is Commander Mino Pompina.” The male answered.

  Ranthia’s thought processes tripped over themselves once again. Her assumptions had been wrong! Level and experience triumphed over being born with something vulnerable dangling between their legs! Also, Ranthia was more than a little confused by the Commander’s name. Two names. Two! What did that even mean? Which one was her name? Was the ‘fancy’ name or the family name missing? Not that Ranthia had absorbed either part of the woman’s name. Already Ranthia had mentally just dubbed them Subcommander and Commander.

  “Hrm, we weren’t told exactly when you would arrive. We were told we would be receiving the assistance of some elite, not some kid who’s roughly the same level as our average legion trooper. I trust those are the supplies for our camp? Malcio, check them.” The woman groused.

  Ranthia’s respect for the woman in charge fell a bit further. It was disappointing, she met so few women with any real power… and the one she was stuck with for a year was wildly dislikable.

  “At least one of those crates is mine. And to be blunt, sir, I have a solo kill credit for a level 789 sea monster. I’m a Ranger with two rotations under my belt, plus several more years spent as an Adventurer where I was A-Ranked. If nothing else, I’m certain I won’t be a burden to you.” Ranthia retorted, though it took more than a little effort to keep her tone acceptably polite. …Which was probably ruined a bit by her initial phrasing.

  The woman inclined her head, slightly. Mostly though, it seemed that she just watched her Subcommander open the crates.

  “Leather for armor repairs, one crate. Seems to be better quality than the last time they sent these supplies, thank the gods.

  “…Sandals? A full crate of ‘em? Wait, no, there’s canvas under ‘em, half a crate’s worth—wait, there’s… a chest under it? The sandals look odd too.” The Subcommander reported.

  “Er, the sandals are mine. I can’t use standard ones because of my combat style, tear right through them. The chest is definitely mine too. I don’t think the canvas is mine though?” Ranthia chimed in. They’d said her chest from her last round would be among her supplies, but it was good to know it was actually there.

  “Hm, so War Ranger, tell me, what do you know about the shimagu?” The Commander asked.

  “Small, parasitical, yet fully sapient, beings. They require a host to function. Most hosts are unwilling, typically ogres, dinosaurs, or humans in that order of frequency. For the unwilling hosts neither the host nor the shimagu can use any Skills; current theory is the shimagu’s Skills end up fully utilized to counter the resistance of the host.” Ranthia began, barely holding in the urge to roll her eyes. Did the woman seriously expect her to have no idea what she was dealing with? …Granted a lot of her intel came from the scrolls that she read just a few days prior, not that the Commander needed to know that.

  “One crate of arrow shafts, I think I see fletching supplies under ‘em. No tips provided.” The Subcommander’s inventory continued, even as Ranthia spoke.

  “The shimagu’s elites are known as the twins, where the host is willing and works with the parasite. Four—er, six out here possibly—classes in one body, with both host and parasite able to use their full breadth of Skills. It’s unknown how many there are, but it’s estimated that there are fewer than one per several thousand unwilling combinations.

  “Countermeasures are relatively simple. Healers can erase shimagu with incredible ease, which often creates a domino effect of chaos when the unwilling host turns on other shimagu, enraged. For the rest of us, the ideal way is a strike to the back of the neck, since the shimagu parasite is almost always there. Though typically, an unwilling host can be killed directly, which leaves the shimagu parasite relatively helpless—they typically can’t counter-attack by themselves. The problem is the twins, I learned firsthand that a dead host barely slows them down and they can still function for a time in the dead body.” Ranthia concluded her summary.

  “Wait, you killed a shimagu twin?” The Subcommander asked, temporarily ceasing his struggle against the final crate’s tightly sealed lid.

  “…Yeah, unfortunately. In Remus. Encountered one trying to sneak into Port Salona when he murdered the [Healer] assigned to my Ranger team with his host’s [Mage] abilities. Buried a knife in his skull immediately in retaliation before he could attack anyone else, got the expected kill notification. Then a large area Miasma attack went off, centered from his body. Had to endure it while I kept attacking—I wasn’t expecting a shimagu there at the time, obviously. Finally hit the back of the neck and got my second kill notification, level 487. Both of them had a class that suggested they were assassins, though we never got to learn their goal.” Ranthia’s blood still chilled every time she remembered the event—with horrific clarity. Hylla had been a hopeless optimist, but the kid deserved to live. Pallos had been brighter with her in it, yet some shimagu that should have never been there…

  Ranthia knew there was nothing she could have done to prevent the tragedy, but it still stung to know that Hylla had died under her care. She would never—refused to ever—forget Hylla’s dead eyes and the hole through her head, nor the sound of the rock that killed her. The [Healer]’s death was one of the largest reasons Ranthia was even there. The shimagu had to be stopped, before they took more innocents. More Hyllas.

  Both base leaders winced, possibly just from the heat that crept into Ranthia’s voice while she spoke. After a few moments of silence, the Subcommander finally finished prying the crate’s lid off.

  “Oho! This looks like it’s the seeds that—” He started to report, only to immediately be cut off by a loud shout.

  “Finally! My seeds, yes, I can smell theeeeem!”

  An excited man bounded up without warning and vibrated his way past everyone until he began to hop around the crate.

  “Oh yes, oh yes. Mhm! Mhm! This looks to be everything I asked for!” The newcomer’s glee was kind of impossible to miss.

  Though Ranthia was more distracted by what [Divine-Touched Identify] reported. The man was a level 412 Spore-aspected [Mage] and a level 320 Radiance-aspected [Mage]. The levels felt… insane. That was a tier only the seniormost Rangers had ever reached, but this man was probably younger than the base’s Commander! He, of course, wholly ignored Ranthia and her gawking—his entire focus was on the crate of seeds.

  “Doc, good to know we don’t need to wake you. Please, feel free to get some of the off-duty soldiers to help you get your seeds to your gardens.” The Commander offered.

  “Wait, there should have been at least one crate of knives for me.” Ranthia realized, suddenly worried. If her combat potential was restricted for a full year, she was in an awful position. It had been the only thing she had requested! Why weren’t they there?!

  “Why on Pallos do you need an entire crate of knives?” The Commander asked with an exasperated tone.

  “Void-aspected. When I use my element, my knives get chewed up too. I just use cheap iron blades for that reason.” Ranthia explained.

  “Oh, well in that case we can provide what you need easily enough. Head over there, near the back wall, and see if a short bald guy is awake. He can get you sorted. I’ll send someone over there to show you to your tent after. Then tomorrow we can find out just how useful you’ll be to us.” The Commander jerked her thumb toward a sooty tent in the back.

  Ranthia saluted, then took her leave. She wasn’t sure which was the greater relief: that there was a solution for her knife problem or finally getting away from the wildly unlikable Commander. Oh Xaoc, she just had to get stuck in a tiny military base for a year with someone insufferable. Had the base been larger she might have hoped to avoid the woman, but with how small this base was…

  “Hi?”

  Ranthia stepped into the sooty tent only to find herself being glared at by a short—very bald—man the moment she stepped inside. In spite of her greeting, he continued to glare, though the awkward moment gave Ranthia an opportunity to take in more details. He was so hairless that even his arms were bare. …Okay, no, the weirdest part was that his eyelashes seemed to be absent.

  But he was a level 470 Metal [Artisan] and a level 429 Metal [Mage]. Which, when combined with his shortness… was he somehow a dwarf? Rigira had been pretty clear that dwarves prized their beards as a culture, no matter which nation they hailed from!

  “The Commander told me you can, somehow, solve my knife problem.” Ranthia finally spoke into the silence.

  “Aye, get on wif et.” The man finally said something, proving his dwarven nature through his thick accent.

  “My Skills chew through knives, I only get one strike per blade usually. Back in Remus I had bought cheap, poor quality iron knives by the crate. But they didn’t provide any, and the Commander said you could sort me out? Ideally, I’d like them styled like these.” Ranthia elaborated, assuming that was what the man wanted, while she offered him one of the knives off her belt.

  “‘Ine nuff, since ye ‘ike crap. Ah’ll get ye wotcha need by t’morn.” The man grumbled as he took the knife with visible disgust, before gesturing for her to leave.

  …And she’d thought Rigira’s accent was atrocious. But there was clear consent in there, so that had to be good enough.

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  Clearly, the Commander believed in first come first serve. Ranthia’s assigned tent was near one of the walls and was placed in a rocky area, sandwiched between two tents with loud snores emanating from them. Inside the tent her chest awaited her, next to a pile of sandals, and that was it. …Which probably, as Ranthia thought it through, meant the Commander was outright trying to mess with her. Not that she was especially bothered. Even as an Adventurer she had usually slept in worse situations, let alone as a Ranger. Ranthia just fished out her old traveler’s cloak—ignoring how musty it smelled after such prolonged disuse—wrapped herself up and made herself acceptably comfortable on the rocky floor of the tent.

  Her prayer to Xaoc was kept relatively short, though she rambled more than a little. She couldn’t help but to notice that He didn’t take as much mana as He typically did before she slept, but, then again, she was in a warzone. She wasn’t sure just how much of Pallos the gods saw, but she was mostly certain that they couldn’t predict the future—thus she refused to let it bother her. Xaoc was being protective and conscientious, that was all.

  The nightmares never left her alone—tiny krakens crawling across her body, flaying her flesh that time around, while war goblins jeered and cheered—but aside from them, she slept peacefully and easily.

  Waking up in unfamiliar settings was something Ranthia was more than a little accustomed to by that point in her life. Sure, a tent was unusual—but it was far from the weirdest place she had ever woken up in. Ranthia just roused herself, adjusted her armor slightly to make sure the straps were still all tight and secure, and hauled herself out of the tent just as the morning rays started to touch their dreary little base.

  Not that Ranthia knew what to expect from the day. The Commander had promised to see what Ranthia could do, but there were no details about what that meant. She was about to head to join a slowly growing group of soldiers that were doing morning exercises when another legion soldier approached her, carrying a large crate.

  “Sir, delivery from our nameless equipment provider.” The soldier made a heroic effort to try to salute while carrying a crate, before he gave up and just offered it to her.

  “What?” Ranthia asked in confusion, even as she accepted the heavy crate. It wasn’t nailed shut, so she was able to—with a few adjustments to her grip—open the lid to see that it was filled with iron knives, similar to the one that she had given the dwarf.

  “He refuses to give us a name, so that title kind of stuck—sorry sir. Also, keep in mind his stuff only lasts for about sixteen days or so since it’s conjured.” The soldier awkwardly explained.

  That raised so many questions, not the least of which was why the soldier was under the impression that conjured metal only lasted such a short while. Yes, conjured material vanished—she knew that well since she had to be topped off by [Healers] periodically since the bulk of her own flesh was conjured after she nearly died to a swarm of ornithocheirus. But it lasted far longer than that; she was fine as long as she had a [Healer] spend some mana on her once a season! Then there were questions about how the dwarf had managed to conjure that much material in just the short while Ranthia was asleep. The crate was large and heavy enough that it had to represent more material than her own mana pool could have made.

  “Right, anything else?” Ranthia asked, setting her questions—and the crate itself—aside for the time being. She could always talk to the dwarf some other time.

  “The Commander wants you with today’s scouting force. They’re already in the mess, trying to eat a quick meal before they depart. Sir!” The soldier saluted, before he fled.

  Leaving Ranthia to curse bitterly as she hurriedly searched her chest for that bandolier she never used, so she could carry more knives. A little more warning would have been appreciated!

  The morning was still early, but the sun was already bright in the sky as Ranthia stood alongside the 8-by-8 unit of soldiers—a full fifth of the base’s Legion forces. It seemed excessive for scouting, but Ranthia was content to keep her mouth shut as she watched the ‘mud [Mages]’ ([Earth] and [Water] for one, [Earth] and [Sand] for the other) reshape the wall to provide an opening for the group. The two [Mages] seemed to be identical twins—a true rarity to see as adults—which was interesting, yet unimportant. Still, it wasn’t like Ranthia had much else to focus on while they waited for the opening to be formed and stabilized.

  Their mission was to scout further to the west and see how far out the next wave of shimagu forces were. Ranthia was given leave to range out as she scouted within shouting distance of the actual troops. If they encountered enemies, they were to perform a fighting retreat until they were clear or back to the base.

  Honestly, the whole thing felt a bit baffling to Ranthia—how was a full combat unit a useful tool for scouting?—but she wasn’t expected to march alongside them so she was happy enough. Clearly this worked just fine for the base.

  Ranthia always loved scouting. She wasn’t especially great at it—she had the speed and the vitality, but she had no specialized Skills for tracking or spotting or hearing targets beyond the range of her senses—but there was something freeing about the ability to roam the wilderness alone. Granted, with how flat the terrain was, things probably tipped further into her favor. It was hard to miss anyone unless they were underground or behind one of the scattered… flattened mountains (there had to be a real name for those).

  The soldiers stayed in their neat, orderly formation as they moved—and it took constant effort for Ranthia to not mock it in her thoughts every time she saw them. She would never understand the Legions’ inordinate fondness for pretty lines and structures. Sure, there was probably some functionality to them, and it was helpful for people to know what their fellows were doing and where they were. But there was a reason that Adventurers and Rangers never made use of such orderly formations. True strength as a team was found in learning one another’s unique capabilities and strengths and trusting one another with flexible responses to each situation as it came. Chaos offered far greater security, and it likely took less drilling than the pre-designed formations did.

  Ranthia roamed, drifting between the north and the south, though she was careful to never break sightlines or leave easy hearing range with the soldiers.

  It was a quiet mission, until it wasn’t.

  “Shimagu forces on approach!” A [Mage] with the soldiers shouted.

  Ranthia had been further to the south and hurried back, more than a little surprised. She hadn’t expected any of the soldiers to actually find a target before she could!

  “How sure are you?” Ranthia asked once she caught up. She couldn’t help but to be a touch skeptical—there was still no sign of any enemy.

  “His whole schtick with Gale is that he can taste what’s on the wind. He’s our resident expert in the depths of flavor to be found in unwashed ogre balls.” One of the Legionaries quipped before the [Mage] could answer.

  “It’s not that sensitive or selective!” The [Mage] snapped at the woman, even as others in the unit laughed.

  Not that they laughed for long.

  “I see them, coming from behind that mesa!” One of the archer [Warriors] shouted.

  So that was what they were called!

  The difference between the Remus-trained Legion phalanx and the shimagu shock troops was night and day. The 8-by-8 unit rotated and reordered to get a shield wall in front, spearmen behind them, a line of archers behind those, then a line of mages. Each line had its spare that stayed back, ready to rotate in as needed. The shimagu meanwhile just charged in a jagged line that approached as fast as each individual could manage. In the lead were mostly the two-legged dinosaurs that stood slightly taller than humans. The bulk of the shimagu force was in the ogres that followed behind them, mostly armed with blunt weapons.

  The fact that Ranthia resembled the shimagu more than the Legion forces was irrelevant and definitely not hypocritical.

  As previously ordered, the Legion forces began to draw back, firing arrows and long-ranged Skills into the enemies as they began their fighting retreat.

  Ranthia had no intention of letting her people enter melee combat. There were only four dozen or so among the shimagu forces and none of them seemed to be twins. To Ranthia, the encounter was one that could be decided decisively.

  And so she slipped between the two forces and fell into her dance. Ranthia tapped [Scattered Reflections] and a second of her appeared and joined the dance. Followed by a third. A fourth. A fifth. And, finally, a sixth. Two of the images were under her direct control, three were under the control of her [Submind] Skill, and then there was her true self. In better circumstances she would really have rather kept her true body stowed somewhere safe during combat while she shifted into one of her images with [Reflections of Reality], but there was nowhere to hide in such open terrain. She wasn’t about to leave her true body exposed and unguarded; she wasn’t suicidal.

  She was vengeful.

  The shimagu forces varied in level from 140 to 419, with most averaging closer to 350 or so. Dangerous, yes, but she had a few advantages even with their advantages in levels. Her mirror images might be able to even win against some of the weaker ones—level 140 was hardly a worthy combatant even by Remus’ standards in the Dead Zone where level growth was significantly harder. The biggest thing was that, even with the forces on the cusp of engagement, there were no signs of any twins among the shimagu. Many of the ogres were surrounded by the class up lights that showed the host had retreated within themselves to hide from their shimagu master—a common sight according to the reports Ranthia had read. This meant she wasn’t against a large force of classers; she was against a large force of people and beasts that had nothing to rely on but brute strength.

  Or, put simply, she faced fodder.

  Ranthia and her images danced into the line of the shimagu, with a cold smile on her true face. Just before she reached them she suppressed notifications, except for personal kills. These shimagu had nothing to do with Hylla’s death, but they and those like them would happily take every bright light like Hylla away from Pallos.

  And it was time to, at last, do her part to prevent that.

  [*ding!* You have slain a [Alxasaurus] (Earth, level 290)!]

  [*ding!* You have slain a [Petty Overlord] (Ooze, level 340), [Dinosaur Handler] (Earth, level 290)!]

  Those notifications needed some work, but it was a thought that she had to set aside for later. Dancing might come naturally to her, but she still needed to focus—especially with two images under her control. Her blades sang through the air as she whirled among the shimagu forces. War was never a pretty thing—death was always brutal—but at least she could bring a cold, graceful beauty to them in their final moments.

  When individuals among the shimagu lost their nerve and fled, she let them. They would be problems that she and the others would have to deal with in the future, but she had a very finite supply of knives on her person while she was afield. Which was exacerbated every time one of the shimagu tried to charge past her to reach the Legion soldiers—problems like them were exactly what [Sustained Chaos] was for. The first ogre that tried to slip past her (and her mirror images) to go after the soldiers left the back of its neck completely exposed: a wonderful target for a thrown knife.

  [*ding!* You have slain a [Strong Laborer] (Wood, level 352), [Boring] (Earth, level 256)!]

  [*ding!* You have slain a [Listen to Me] (Ooze, level 352), [Gloryhound] (Sound, level 309)!]

  More kill notifications poured past her perception as she swept across the shimagu forces. Dinosaurs fell. Ogres fell. Creatures she had only known as words a short time ago became visions of blood embodied in kill notifications.

  Some of them shouted guttural tones clearly meant as threats directed at her. Some, no doubt, cursed her in their final moments before her knives found them. Others just snarled and came at her like mindless beasts, even many that were in the bodies of ogres. Ogres were naturally far more physically powerful than humans were, but she had a high-quality combat class, diverse and constant combat experience, and a graceful combat style that focused on evasion. The slow and ponderous opponents didn’t stand a chance. Even her mirror images rarely needed to be replaced.

  The fight almost felt unfair.

  “You will regret this, little human. The shimagu will crush you and your pathetic empire. Our main force is only days away, this was just a little hunting party! You will—”

  Ranthia never let him finish. She had some momentary surprise over a shimagu that actually spoke Creation, but she mentally thanked him for the intel and used the club he had swung at her as a bar to vault herself over his swing and past his shoulder. A [Void Edge]-empowered thrust through the back of his neck while he stumbled nearly outright severed his head and got her another pair of kill notifications.

  [*ding!* You have slain a [Look at My Muscles] (Light, level 419), [Handsome Guy] (Light, level 301)!]

  [*ding!* You have slain a [Vain Master] (Ooze, level 419), [Attention-Seeker] (Poison, level 408)!]

  More kill notifications followed as she continued the battle.

  At length, the remainder of the shimagu forces fled. She had killed just under three dozen of them. …Wait, she had an odd number of kill notifications. She carefully checked the bodies at her feet. [Vision of the Void] could vaguely see through flesh at its current level, but only once something was dead. Yet no matter how she searched, there was no sign of a living shimagu in any of them.

  “I guess one of the dinosaurs was just a tamed beast?” She mused aloud.

  It was the best explanation she could come up with. And it would have been stupid to stand there all day trying to figure it out.

  She hadn’t killed every one of the dead shimagu—the Legion’s arrows and Skills had felled more than a few—but she had been responsible for halting their charge, so it wasn’t a surprise when the sixty-four men and women of the Legion cheered when she caught back up to their ongoing orderly (ugh) retreat.

  Triumphant, they returned to their base and waited to get an area heal blasted over them—not that any of them had injuries—before they were allowed inside. The bulk of the forces dispersed into the unnamed base, but Ranthia and unit’s leader made their reports to the base’s Commander and Subcommander. Though if the Commander was impressed with Ranthia’s performance (okay, yes, she might have been trying to show off, a little), the woman sure didn’t show it. Still, Ranthia took some solace in the fact that the Subcommander, at least, seemed to be suitably impressed—at least while the Commander wasn’t looking his way.

  The unit leader invited Ranthia to join him for lunch, but Ranthia politely declined. It was a bit too early for lunch by her standards, and she was eager to get a few things taken care of. With no small amount of anticipation, Ranthia indulged the first almost the moment she got into her tent—it was time to see what she got out of her first battle beyond the Dead Zone!

  [*ding!* Congratulations! [Diffuse Reflectance] has leveled up to level 291! +5 Free Stats, +3 Dexterity, +3 Vitality, +120 Mana, +120 Mana Regeneration, +120 Magic Power, +120 Magic Control from your class, +1 free stat for being human, +1 Mana Regeneration and +1 Magic Power from your element.]

  [*ding!* [Mirror Spirit], [Scattered Reflections], [Pure Reflections], and [Persisted Imagery] have reached level 291!]

  [*ding!* [Ideal Reflectance] has leveled from 163 to level 169!]

  [*ding!* Congratulations! [She who Dances with Chaos] has leveled up to level 313! +100 Strength, +100 Dexterity, +100 Vitality, +100 Speed, +8 Mana, +8 Mana Regeneration, +5 Magic Power, +5 Magic Control from your class, +1 free stat for being human, +2 Mana from your element.]

  [*ding!* [Void Affinity], [Rhythmic Grace], [Void Edge], [Flowing Momentum], [Echoes of Devastation], [Divine-Touched Identify], [Ranger’s Lore], and [Combat Awareness] have reached level 313!]

  [*ding!* [Vision of the Void] has leveled from 143 to level 148!]

  [*ding!* [Sustained Chaos] has leveled from 64 to level 70!]

  [*ding!* [True Grace] has reached level 96!]

  [*ding!* [Ranthia’s Covenant with Xaoc] has reached level 95!]

  [*ding!* [Submind] has leveled from 164 to level 170!]

  [*ding!* [Image Recall] has reached level 201!]

  On one hand, Ranthia kind of expected more from the lauded freedom from the Dead Zone. Supposedly her experience gains should be doubled out here and she had fought a detached force from a hostile army. If she counted both host and parasite, she had killed roughly 60 sapient opponents!

  On the other hand, Ranthia had to admit that she was never really in any danger during that engagement. Sure, each and every one of the shimagu she had fought would have loved to murder her and, in theory, many of them were technically capable of it. Yet she had stayed in full control of the engagement—she never got reckless or truly risked anything. In the end, her opponents had been slow and uncoordinated. Physical might mattered little without the Skills (…and skills) to back it up.

  Also, it wasn’t like her gains were bad. Each class got a level, most of her Skills leveled—even if most of them were re-caps—including [True Grace], which was almost as challenging as [Reflections of Reality] was to level. Some of her Skills, like [Sustained Chaos], got a lot of experience from that fight too. Even [Image Recall] had somehow snuck in a level and she had only made a few images throughout the entire engagement.

  “Wait, what’s my Covenant doing in there? …Maybe Xaoc hates the shimagu? They do prevent the chaos of their hosts and supplant it with their own order… Hm, guess we’ll see what happens with the Skill while I’m out here.” Ranthia mumbled to herself. It was a bad habit she’d developed in her time as a solo Adventurer, but sometimes vocalizing things helped her work her way through questions.

  Okay, with that done, it was time for Ranthia to reassess what needed to be changed to better reflect her existence in a warzone. The biggest thing was that her current kill notifications would get her killed while she was dealing with the shimagu, and she was more than a little annoyed at herself for not seeing the problem sooner. As it stood, she had to mentally match pairs of kill notifications—something that would be impossible in the heat of battle. Heck, it already caused a minor problem. Still, the System was flexible and the solution was simple enough. Her notifications could identify the species of each kill—at least broadly—so she grouped ooze-related creature kills and any simultaneous other creature kills into the same notification. That was the best she could do for the moment, not that she could test it until her next engagement. Still, she was on the front lines of the war and the shimagu had promised another opportunity would come her way soon.

  …Now if she could just figure out a proper solution for her supply of knives when she had to range out. Even with the bandolier she was running low after that engagement, and she had no doubts it had been on the smaller end of the scale. Sometimes she really regretted killing the potential for [Strengthen Blade] to evolve into something that would have actually allowed her to use the same weapons for more than a single Void-empowered strike.

  Still, she had time, she was confident that she would figure something out. Hopefully.

  Her life kind of depended on it.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.