Frame straightening motorcycle oxfordshire

I’m a 4’10” female and I just finished the first day of my msf course. I rode a Honda Rebel and it was heavy asf for me. I dropped it once at the start and then was very cautious about keeping my handle bars straight, maybe to the point it scared me to do well on tight turns.
Just getting on the bike and trying to walk it for the first exercise was impossible. I wasn’t completely flat footed so maybe it was just that though, I could push it when I walked next to it.
But even just getting on it and straightening the handle bars, the bike feels so heavy. Tilting it slightly side to side, it feels so heavy. Of course I’m a small person, but I know the rebels are some of the lighter bikes out there.
If I think that bike is super heavy, it makes me feel like Im not fit to ride a motorcycle.
The bike I actually wanted to get is a Grom which is quite a bit lighter, but I don’t know if I even have the motivation to go back tomorrow to finish the MSF.
Also, I have muscle weakness due to medical problems, so that discourages me even more
Any advice? I’m leaning more towards giving up but maybe someone will motivate me to motivate myself. (I know i’m the only one who can push myself to success)

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Disclaimer: I have to shorten the words on this one because the chapter had gone on for to long and stole the word count limit. Every person in this section has my deepest and most sincere thanks for the art, memes, and love they have shown my series.
Thank you to: for proofreading, editing, and this art. Check his fic here!
u/Talentlessfurry for this art.
u/Roddcherry for adding Novel to the charismas party he drew.
u/everyveryever for this art.
u/Emotion-Senior for the meme.
u/Orphandestroyer99 for the comic and art.
u/abrachoo for the meme.
u/guaiwutongzhi for the art.
u/United_Patriots for the art.
u/migulehove for the art(s).
u/aMANTEIGAdo for the art.
u/SlimyRage for the art.
Thank you to each and every one of these amazing people!
CW: Accidental Substance Abuse
Memory Transcription Subject: Novel, Kolshian Scientist and Self-Proclaimed “Gamer God”
Date {standardized human time}: October 19th, 2136
The elevator ride took a lot longer than I would have liked, my excitement and anticipation making it difficult to stand still. Ada’s room was almost at the top floor of the building — along with those of the other members of my herd — making it take a bit longer to get to than most of the other Humans’ I’ve visited while here.
Seems they are keeping the various tribes in their own groups. The fourth floor has the Germans, French, Polish, and Austrians, with a few Danes and Swedes mixed in. I wonder if they did that to keep the different tribes from fighting with ones they don’t like? Doubtful really, everyone seems to get along well enough, disregarding a couple jabs here and there. Probably just makes geographical sense to put them together.
My pondering was broken with a soft ding of the old elevator doors opening. I stepped out of the elevator quickly and took in my surroundings. There were very few humans milling about the quiet halls as they went about their business. One human with comfy-looking pelts had noticed me step out of the elevator and had frozen where they stood. After a short, yet still uncomfortably awkward moment, I gave a wave with one of my upper appendages and walked down a different hall.
A few moments later, I pulled out my pad to look at the message Sindre sent me.
Room 441, hailey and i went to get some stuff for the sesh. ada will be there in a bit. see you soon, {censored}
From: Sindre(Human)
I quickly typed out my own message.
Thank you! I’ll meet you there!
From: Me
Stowing the pad, I made my way there. Along the way I encountered several more Humans, each of which having some sort of reaction to my presence. Mostly just freezing in place or casting glances at me as I walked by. Some of them recognized me, either from when we baked together, or when I was in the rec room when the news dropped and gave me a wave in return. There was one case though when a Terran exited their room, saw me, and let out a noise I can only describe as a squeal before diving back into their room.
That last one confused me to no end, as I had never seen that reaction from a human before. I considered knocking on the door before thinking better of it and continuing down the hall to my destination.
How curious… I'll have to ask Ada about that human and why they ran away from me... Heh, prey scaring predators. Not so long ago, such a concept would’ve been seen as the ultimate goal, any real-world examples derided as only that of a dreamer’s fallacy, and yet now… I don’t think I like the idea so much…
I made a mental note to apologize to them if we ever meet again and kept walking, this time with my form hunched and my pace a little faster than before so I could avoid bothering the Terrans as much. It seemed to work, and the humans seemed to look away a little faster than they had previously.
Arriving at Ada’s door, though, I composed myself as best I could, straightening my back and taking a deep breath to calm myself. I knocked on the door a few times, only for it to open a slight amount. Cocking my head in confusion, I listened to the slight groaning of the hinges before I gently pushed it the rest of the way, the door creaking loudly in resistance.
The room smelled of wax and freshly harvested Othll bark, like I had just walked into the home improvement aisle of a store. Walking further inside showed me the source of the smell, which was a set of candles sitting on top of a nightstand in the corner… next to a fire alarm with the battery taken out.
That’s a little concerning… that can’t be safe at least. I should tell her to put it back in when I see her… wherever she is.
Looking around the room some more showed it to be quite unkempt, with pelts and other junk laying strewn haphazardly across the floor. Personal knick-knacks and picture frames sat on shelves and tables around the room, making the places feel a lot more homely than the other rooms I’d been in. A large TV sat on the other side of the room across from the bed, which had been recently used, going by the blanket on the floor and the pillows tossed about. Against the wall next to the bed was a large couch that had clearly seen better paws, the top layer peeling heavily and scattering the little bits of plastic covering everywhere.
Sitting next to the TV appeared to be some sort of Terran gaming console, complete with bright colors plastered across its many faces and with several different wires coming out of it. Far more than there should be, since part of the case it was in had been smashed to fit more cabling into. Tools, used wires, and broken plastic laid scattered next to the patchwork job.
Seems they really did modify it. Makes sense, since I doubt it would normally work on our systems at all… we should really put that fire alarm back in…
Just as I started walking over to inspect it, my lower tentacle caught something soft on one of the suckers. Looking down showed it to be one of the chest pelts Ada had been wearing the paw I met her. Closer inspection showed the whole floor was covered in discarded pelts, including some I had never seen before!
I let out a sigh as I looked around at the mess… I hope she doesn't mind if I cleaned up a bit.
And that's exactly what I did as I waited for my host to return. It did not take long for me to find the garbage can and hamper she used for her used pelts. While I worked though the piles, I took note of the stranger clothes I saw. Most of them were the regular chest pelts that I’d seen every human wear, but others were completely unique or otherwise somehow unusual.
One such example was what I can only describe as some sort of winter gear? It had a very intricate design on the front made of lace and a very soft interior made of a kind of purple fabric. What made it even more strange was that I found several of these scattered around the room, meaning that she was wearing these pretty regularly too!
Hmmm… perhaps it is meant to keep their ears warm? That would explain the strap on the back, as it would be meant to go under their chin. That doesn’t explain why she would be using it though, and to have so many! It must get cold in here when the A/C kicks in, I guess. This place is really old after all.
Either way, they went into the hamper. I left the tools where they were, in case they belonged to different people, but everything else went straight into the trash. The whole process was pretty exhausting, but the room ended up looking much nicer than it had before!
Just as I finished bagging up the garbage can, the door gave a loud creak as Ada stepped in wearing some pretty comfortable-looking pelts similar to the ones she had been wearing a few paws ago, pink prey head slippers and all.
A few {seconds} pass as she starts pulling out clear totes full of what I assume to be her things before I break out of my confusion and flick her a tail wave.
“Hey Ada! Whe-”
“AAAAHHH!!!”
She screamed as she stumbled onto her back, causing me to drop the bag and jump in fright. We stared at each other for a moment before Ada spoke up.
“Nov’?! What the fuck are you doing in here?! You weren't… ya Allah, you scared the crap out of me!”
My arms and tentacles raised up in a pleading gesture after I realized what I did. “S-sorry! I-I thought you would see me! And Sindre said to meet you here? F-for the games?”
Ada took a few more moments to calm down on the floor, but eventually, she stood up and took a few breaths. “You’re fine, squiddie… Sindre didn’t mention how close you were so… oh well, doesn't matter I guess. Uh, what’s in the bag you got there? Also… where are all of my clothes?”
At her observation, I picked up the trash bag and held it up for her to see. “Well… your room was a bit of a mess, a-and you were gone, so I did a bit of… cleaning? Nothing major, just throwing away some trash and putting the pelts in the hamper.”
“Oh, well, thanks Nov. I was gonna get to that befor-” Suddenly she stops herself mid-sentence. Her eyes widen as she casts her forward-facing gaze over to the pelts’ bin.
For some reason, the human's usual light brown features darken considerably with a crimson bloom. Ada turned to look at me, and I gave my best happy expression I could muster to put her at ease. This time, the human's face twisted into an obvious forced snarl before she gave up, running a hand down her face.
“Novel, j-just a heads up for the future, it’s considered rude to go through someone's room and touch their… pelts without permission. They are, um, quite personal belongings, and we don’t let other people touch certain ones. Fuck, uh, don’t tell the other two about this either. It would be, eugh…” Ada’s snarl gets larger as she looks back to the hamper, the crimson still blooming across her face. My tail flicked curiously as I looked between her and the pelt basket.
How peculiar… Hailey seemed just fine with dumping all sorts of pelts on me when she was showing them off. Perhaps that's because she studies it, so in that case it’s seen as okay? Maybe it has more to deal with how I came in here without her supervision? Predators are known to be territorial in the wild, and the Humans seem to be that way as well with their many borders. Letting someone into your ‘territory’ must be a pretty personal thing in the first place. Which would mean that she must be upset that I just walked in here and started messing with things! Speh!
A tentacle reached out, or up I suppose, to Ada’s shoulder while my tail signaled my sincerest apologies. “I-I am so sorry, Ada. If I knew, I would have never touched anything! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone! Do you want me to… put it back the way I found it?”
The human seemed to find my appeasement worthy as she let out a quiet laugh. “No, Nov’, you’re just fine. Thanks for cleaning up too, I guess; I was gonna do it myself, but oh well… not something we need to talk about.” She lets out another laugh as she walks over to the modified console and grabs a controller.
Yet, before she could get a word out, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by it swinging open to reveal the last two members of our herd. Sindre came in first, carrying several different bags filled to the brim with snacks of all varieties. He gave a simple head nod and rushed over to the table by the TV to deposit his haul, dropping a few on the floor in his haste.
Hailey walked in right behind him with a plastic grocery bag over her shoulder filled with many different colored bottles of drink and a tray of small dark-brown squares covered in plastic wrap. Her free hand gave us both a wave while she walked to the table in a much calmer manner, at least when compared to her compatriot.
We both gave our own wave in return while I spoke up. “Hey guys! Welcome! What did you get from the kitchen?”
Hailey set her things down on the table. “Not much. Some dried fruit, chips, cookies, soda, juice, and even some fresh brownies someone made! I assumed they were for the taking since they had a few trays sitting out to cool down, but we didn’t really have time to ask since we kinda rushed up here. Oh, and the kitchen stinks to high hell for some reason. Might have to tell Emmanual about that.”
My head tilted curiously at the information as Ada and Sindre moved the couch over to where I was standing. Once it was in place, I took a seat at the opposite end from Hailey. “Well, I’m glad you got what you wanted! Do you mind if I take one of those, uh, brownies?”
She gave me a hand wave as I reached over and undid the plastic wrap around the treats. They were still quite warm from the kitchen! I took a small bite out of the corner to get a taste of it, only to then gobble up the whole thing in one bite.
This is amazing! It’s like strayu but… richer? With an almost cough medicine aftertaste mixed with that strange spice? Such a strange and yet fascinating combination!
“Such a weird taste… but definitely a good one! Are there any more downstairs?” I asked while covering my mouth as best I could for the sake of manners.
She took one herself and took a small bite. “Yep, at least a couple more trays from what we saw. Though I bet most of those will be gone once word gets around.”
My head nodded solemnly as I picked up another.
Might as well enjoy them while we can!
Ada walked over to me and flicked the space in between my eyes with her fingers. Her other hand passed me a human game controller before taking a seat right next to me. “Save some for us, ya green goblin! Pretty sure we’re meant to share those!”
The humans let out a soft chuckle while my face warmed in embarrassment. Luckily, they didn’t stay focused on it for long before she pointed to the controller. “So, do you need help with that? It’s not exactly built for you.”
Moving it around in my appendages was more than enough to prove that fact, but I tried to give her a dismissive tail wave while sitting down. “Don’t worry… I should be able to make this work…” I said while using all four of my limbs to hold the piece of plastic. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it’ll do the job for now.
“Not the first time I had to do this. There are a lot of different species on Aafa, and some of them have very strange, uh, manipulators… you just have to get used to it.”
There may not have been a lot, or really any other species in my home town, but that college certainly did. Me and Cloyta used to hang out with a few different herds whenever we had the time. That Tilfish remote was an interesting experience to use. Having to use smells to figure out a puzzle in a game like it was normal was really something else.
The TV and console suddenly turned on with a bright flash as Sindre held out a remote towards them both. He used his controller to navigate to a menu on the system to reveal a vast collection of Human games. I grabbed my pad out of my pack to translate some of the games as Sindre scrolled by.
Doom of Kevsar, Helldivers: Super Dating Simulator, Papa’s Pizzeria, Skyrim 2… all these seem fine, I guess. At least not super violent like I thought… A good sign!
Sindre spoke up first as he continued to look through the archive. “Anyway, we were talking the other day about which game to show you first, but we couldn’t agree on what would be the best showcase. So instead of one game voted in from all of us, we are each going to show you a game we think you’ll like best. Sounds good?”
My tail thumped against the back of the couch in acceptance. “Yup! That actually sounds really great! Get to see a wider spectrum of human ‘entertainment!’ Who’s going first?”
“Sindre is…” Hailey speaks up in between bites of her confection, “His system, his pick… still think it’s a dumb fucking game though.” He says as he stops his scrolling and arrives at a very brightly colored preview with several… Humans? Human-like creatures in what look like Dossur vehicles?
He presses a button to select the game as a grin grows on his face. “Hey, Mario Kart Galaxy 3 is a classic! You’re just mad because you’re bad at it.” Sindre turns his head to me while Hailey leans forward. “You’ll love it, I swear. Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.”
“That's for a good reason, you dolt. But it’s your choice…” Hailey said while wiping her hands on a napkin.
I hoped he was right as some cheerful music started playing.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 19 Terran standard minutes…}
Sindre was right! This is fun!
The upbeat music continues to play as I make another turn around a corner, drifting a little to build up some momentum. The ‘Birdo’ creature in my ‘Kart’ does a little dance as I time it right and get a small speed boost, sending me further down the multi-colored track.
“Hmmhmmmhm, hmhmhmm~.” I tried my best to hum along to the music as I continued with the race.
I never would have thought that a racing game could be interesting. Cloyta and I played a few when we were much younger, but they seemed slow in comparison. Usually had a goal at the end as well, like delivering some fruits to a market, or maybe trading on spacefaring merchant vessels in the more complex ones.
It was super fun though! Competing against each other felt a little off, but I wrote it off as a Human cultural thing. A way of bonding, as with most things for them it seems. Other than that, I found the racing to be a lot of fun! There was so much going on, and yet it somehow managed to really keep you aware of everything going on at all times.
A projectile here, a fruit peel trap there, there was so much to think about that I almost forgot to pay attention to the humans! Which, if I weren’t here to study them, might have been a good thing. There were times the competitive nature of the game seemed to draw something else out of them, something I hadn’t expected.
It was… well…
“If I run into one more fucking banana, I will kick you down a flight of stairs and jump on your head from the top step!”
“How the hell did that hit ME!? Broken fucking hitboxes in this shitty ass game!”
“GET YOUR CRUSTY TOAD ASS OFF ME BEFORE I RIP YOU ASSHOLE TO ASSHOLE!!!”
…intense.
My enjoyment of the game seemed to be pretty one-sided unfortunately. Even by the already high standards of the Humans’ previous banter, this was truly something else. While I was still learning the game and slowly climbed up the leaderboard, the Humans all led the herd by taking the top 3 spots every time. They were so close together in some of the races that it was nearly impossible to tell who would win until the last moment, making their yelling even more vicious and bloodthirsty.
There were times I thought they were about to get physically violent with each other once it got to the final lap, but thankfully, it never came to that, aside from maybe some light pushing. Their… banter? Fighting? Uh… verbal abuse towards each other made learning the game a lot harder too since every time I tried to ask a question, my voice would get drowned out in all the yelling. They did show me the basic controls before we started, but it’s a little hard to ask for pointers when your coaches are threatening severe bodily harm against each other.
As I drifted around another sharp turn, my mind wandered back to what Sindre said when we’d first started:
‘Really shows off the real Humanity we have to hide from you guys.’
Was this supposed to be the ‘real Humanity’? I sure hope not… I think I’d prefer if they actually came to blows instead of continuing this barrage of foulness they are constantly spewing. They don’t even seem to be enjoying it! They have to be doing it for a reason… right?
I continued to think as I continued down the track and finished my second lap. The argument was starting to build up again as the stakes started to rise.
“Oh, yeah, of course you get a red shell in 2nd and I get fucking bananas in 3RD! Gotta love this piece of shit game!!” Hailey shouted, leaning forward like she was about to pounce on the TV.
“Not my fault you can’t aim for shit, dumbass! Just throw better!” Sindre quipped back.
“How about I throw you out a five story window?! I mean, I would if your fatass wouldn't snap the floorboards if I tried!” Ada finished it as he gave her an aggressive shove with his shoulder.
Yet, unlike how I expected, she didn’t push back. That's what makes this all so confusing! Each time they antagonize each other, the other person does it back, and they just stop! Their words sound like they mean it to hurt, and their actions reflect that… but they aren’t acting on it.
Hmm… the ‘real Humanity’, huh… Maybe I’m approaching this the wrong way? Something less about who the Humans are, so to speak, but more how they feel? They’ve been awfully emotional in every interaction I’ve ever had with them… Aggressive, too, admittedly. Maybe… maybe this is a way for them to vent some of that aggression safely? Around people they really trust with a game you can complain about, but demands too much attention to leave them to do more than yell at each other? Things have been rather… stressful, lately.
My tail thumped a few more times against the dilapidated couch, sending a few more puffs of stuffing into the air. The theory kind of lined up with what I knew, but I was here with the primary source for a reason, after all. I would just ask them, but…
“I am going to FUCKING DEEPFRY THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM {Ass Violin}!!!”
They were busy.
They seem pretty angry… but if it helps them deal with their stress, then I am just fine with it. I’m glad they are getting through it in their own… ‘special’ Human way.
In any case, it was still better than damming it all up until it overflowed and someone really got hurt. Safe in the knowledge that the Humans (probably) wouldn’t actually attack each other, I just resolved to focus on the game instead. The third and final lap was coming around, and things were starting to ramp up even further. The Humans’ false violence got even louder, and coupled with the occasional and really rather distracting limb shooting out and the rapidly intensifying music, my poor heart was not in the best condition as our racers closed in on the finish line.
But then, all of a sudden, something very strange happened. The Humans simultaneously began to curse louder than ever before, screaming and wailing as an odd blue indicator flashed along the top of the screen, indicating some kind of blue spiky ball rapidly approaching us from behind. All three of them illogically slammed on the brakes, clearly trying to dodge the oncoming projectile, but it was to no avail. The ball flew right past my ‘Kart’ and struck the center of the tightly crowded humans, unleashing an explosion of blue fire that stunned all three.
Allowing my Kart, driving at maximum speed in hopes of any shot at outrunning the projectile, to shoot right past them and cross the finish line first.
Wait… what?
A brief silence hung in the air at what just happened until my arms went up in the air
“Hey, look! I won! Hehehe! I didn’t know I would get so lucky on my first try! Is that sort of thing… common…?”
I stopped my celebration as all the Humans were giving me very intense looks with their stares. They lacked the familiar friendliness most Humans looked at me with, but instead seemed much… angrier.
Speh, right. They are still mad from before, and now I just beat them at their own race… O-okay, they don’t mean it, they are upset and need to let it out. Just have to get through it.
Seeing what was about to happen, I curled in on myself and braced myself for the barrage of verbal slurry coming my way. A moment passed as I waited for the insults to fly but… they never came? Opening an eye revealed the Human’s expressions had changed from fury to…
Amusement?
“You alright there Nov’? You’re shaking pretty bad… Was that too much?” Ada asked in a quiet voice while patting me on the back roughly. It took a moment for my brain to catch up before I could speak again.
“O-oh, uh, sorry, I thought you all were going to… yell at me? Like you did with each other?” My voice was a little shaky as I unfurled myself.
All of the Germans seemed to wince a little at that. “Yeah… fuck, sorry about that. Mario Kart is a pretty rage-inducing game. Shoulda thought about that beforehand.”
My tail attempted to signal calm while trapped behind me. “N-no, it’s fine… I did learn a lot actually. It was fun too, besides the yelling part. Um, can we move on though? I think I’ve got enough out of this one.”
Sindre exits the game with a nod while the others let out deep sighs. “Yeah, sorry Nov’. It’s one of the most popular party games Humanity ever made, so I figured it would be a good one to show you. Next is… Ada’s pick… we sure we should do this one?”
The woman turned her head to look at Sindre. “Positive. They have a vegan option in the settings, so it’s not going to get us arrested or anything. Plus, it's a cooperative party game! Feds seem to love that whole ‘herd’ thing, and Nov’ liked the last one so I’m sure it’ll be fine!”
She gave a dismissive hand wave before turning back to me. “It’ll be fine, really. I played this game as a kid all the time, no need to panic, right?” She seemed a little worried at the end of that sentence, so I tried to put on a brave face.
“S-sounds great! What’s it about?” I mentally chastised myself for my stutter and reached towards the table to grab another pastry. “Ahem. There’s nothing predatory in it, right?”
She grabs one herself and a glass of an orange fizzy drink. “Nope, none at all! Just some harmless cooking with your friends! You’ll love it!” Her enthusiasm helped me calm down as the game started booting up on screen.
Overcooked 5: Season of Seasoning.
Looks cheerful at least. Cooking is fun too… It’ll be fine, yeah.
I took a bite out of my brownie as the game's main menu music started to play.
{Memory Transcription Time Advancement: 23 Standard Terran Minutes…}
You know… I think I get it.
A soft relaxing track played in the background as the four little chefs on screen ran around doing various tasks needed to keep the kitchen functioning, like preparing vegetables, or washing dishes. A timer at the top of the screen was slowly counting down while a little ‘onion’ next to it with a Human face rambled on about something or other.
Orders start coming in quick, and all of us get to work in a flash… or at least, all of us SHOULD be.
“Can you three stop licking the dust clouds in the vents and actually do something to help me, PLEASE?!”
A trio of Human giggles was my only response as I leaned forward in concentration.
This game. This brahking game. They should use this for testing for intelligence like those quizzes we took back home, since clearly some people go brain dead trying to do literally anything that isn’t getting in my stars-damned way, or otherwise waste valuable time by huffing the gas coming off the stove!
Finishing up one order of seaweed wraps and lettuce salad, I tried to get back to the kitchen, but was immediately blocked by… a plate on the floor.
“WHO-!! Why is there a plate on the floor?! The counter is literally right there! It’s such a simple job to-” A ding rings out, showing several new orders that needed to be filled. The timer started flashing red as we reached the one ‘minute’ mark.
A deep, frustrated growl builds in my throat, causing my Humans to laugh for some reason, incensing me even further! We all get to work in completing the last orders, however. Things were going well as the Terrans seemed to (finally) get it together to actually make some good food. Sindre had just finished cooking the rice while Ada chopped the carrots. Me and Hailey were putting everything together on the other side and sending it through until—
“Is, oh my stars, did you guys really send over raw rice?! It’s not even partially cooked!! Are you all a bunch of mountain dwellers? Do you eat your dry grass with a side of brahking pebbles and pond scum?! Cook it again!” I threw the rice back, hitting Sindre in the back of the head with the pile of rice, causing his character to fall over with a cartoonish thunk sound effect.
The Germans laughed loudly at the scene, which made my face heat up in frustration. The timer was running short as we waited for the rice to actually be cooked this time.
“Nov’, I, haha, I’m sorry. I’ll get it done this time, have mercy! I thought the last one was done so I-”
My head turned just enough for my eye to be focused solely on the pale Human. “IT WAS BRAHKING RAW!! There's a bar at the top that tells you! Do you need eye surgery?? Can you even pass a driving test??”
More laughter.
“AND STOP LAUGHING AT ME!! IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
A ding came from the pot to signify it was done. Ada immediately took it out and walked over to the counter to pass it.
“Perfect, now just- what are you doing?”
She wasn’t passing it over. Instead, she was charging up her throw way more than she needed to. I was just about to say something as the clock flashed brightly ‘till she threw the rice at full force.
Directly at my little chef. The rice beamed directly off the side of my character's head, sending me flying away from the plate and sprawled across the kitchen floor as the rice landed gently on the ground.
“ADA!!!!!”
The countdown is drowned out by the humans erupting into laughter as I desperately try and recover. Yet, just as I make it to my feet, the countdown reaches zero, and the mission ends. Defeat fills my chest while the onion man does a little dance to tally up our points.
49600… only two out of three stars…
It’s over…
I slumped against the back of the couch, fury and betrayal stirring in my chest while the predators laughed to each other for several moments. Their raucous, howling laughter eventually started dying down, at least enough for them to actually say something to me.
“Nov’, come on. It’s just a game. I’m, hehehe, I’m sorry okay? We were just having a little fun is all.” She ran her treacherous hands down my back in an effort to calm me, to little effect.
“Dumb game. Stupid… start the next mission…”
She chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should play a different game. You don’t seem real happy playing this one.”
That made my tail flick in light amusement though the frustration. “Now you sound like my Dad…” My anger at the game started to fade more and more, replaced with a growing sensation of guilt. ”I-I think that’s a good idea. Um, sorry about that.”
She removed her hand, but kept her eyes on me and the gooey trail now stringing from her hand. “Eugh… hey, you’re fine. If you can deal with us screaming at each other, then we can handle your little squeaks.”
The other two smiled and nodded in agreement while I looked at her in confusion, feeling a little offended. “My… squeaks? But, um, thank you... W-what's the next game? Hailey’s turn, right?”
On cue, she brushes her mane to the side and starts scrolling down. “Yes, actually! Unlike these two walnuts, I actually picked a relaxing game. A classic. An art piece~” Her hands did a slight flair, yet I remained unmoved.
“Hailey, that's what the other two said too. While those games were… fine, I wouldn’t call them ‘masterpieces.’ Are you sure about this one?” I asked while grabbing another brownie.
I keep eating these things, but I just feel more and more hungry… weird…
The Humans chucked as she selected her game. “Hey, have a little faith in me. I haven't met a Human alive that can say this game is bad. Just watch!”
A flash came from the TV as the game's title came into view.
Minecraft: Anniversary Edition.
“We’ll use one of the worlds we were playing on back on Earth so you can get an idea of what it’s really like. And, uh, make sure it's peaceful too, just in case.”
I took a bite of the treat and settled into my spot, preparing myself for whatever was to come.
{CONTINUED INTO THE COMMENTS}

Hey all, here's what I'm looking for:
My most frequent rides are city commuting so I want something maneuverable and relatively . My biggest goal is weekend road trips to find fun twisties.
I'd also like to camp on my motorcycle. I specifically do not want an adventure bike, I need just enough ground clearance for fire roads etc.
I'm 5'6 with a 30in inseam so smaller frames are better. Sometimes I'll have a passenger.
Not looking for a cruiser or ADV bike. Adjustable suspension would be nice.
thanks in advance :)

Author's Note:
As an aside, this update was originally part of the previous chapter, but needed to be split off because posting a 10000+ word behemoth would've murdered my backlog. In terms of story pacing, you can consider it the second half of one long-ass chapter.
​
--
​
Too close. Too, too close.
Vul'to ignored the sounds of battle resuming around him. The Soul Guardian permitted himself a moment to just...sit there and breathe. After what had transpired, he sorely needed it.
We should be dead. The thought came to him with frightening lucidity. Vul'to wished he could claim that he'd masterfully protected his Party from Kismet's attack, activating defensive Skills the instant he saw everyone in peril, but that would be a lie. It was primarily due to luck that Riardin's Rangers yet lived.
Kismet's mana spears had materialized faster than anyone – Rob excluded – could feasibly react to. The god weaved mana with precision and speed that would have humbled a Circle of Level 99 Archmages. Vul'to hadn't felt this thoroughly outclassed by a creature since the final Blight. Without Rob occupying the god's attention, their Party would've already been swept aside mere seconds after invading the divine realms.
As shown by how Kismet nearly annihilated them in one stroke. His ambush had been so immediate that it started and ended before Riardin's Rangers even knew what was going on. Our Shield and Not A Scratch only succeeded in protecting the Party because Vul'to activated his Skills ahead of time. His instincts had suddenly screamed at him to DO SOMETHING, as if an invisible arrow was flying straight towards his heart, and so he'd listened without giving a single thought to long-term battle strategies.
If he had been wrong, then his most powerful Skill would currently be on a 15-minute cooldown with nothing to show for it. The fact that he'd guessed right was a cold comfort. Winning at a game of chance made him feel no more in control of the situation – and no less like an outclassed trainee guided by desperate paranoia.
What is it that Rob always says? It isn't paranoia if they really are out to get you? Vul'to smiled, a hint of mirth alighting within his chest. It felt weak as an ember taking refuge from a torrential downpour.
He grasped onto the feeling before it could fade. All of his burgeoning concerns fell by the wayside as Vul'to pushed himself upright, forcing the shaking in his legs to subside. It didn't matter that he wanted to rest for a while longer. It didn't matter that Riardin's Rangers had been a hairsbreadth away from cessation. It didn't matter that the future was hanging in a fragile balance liable to shift at any given moment.
There was work still to be done.
To start: I must correct my misstep. This entire debacle was a result of Vul'to losing track of his god, who'd then rushed over to assist Kismet. The Soul Guardian's concern for Zamira – who seemed to have stopped fighting her opponent – had caused his own vigilance slip below what was acceptable.
It would not happen again. He hurriedly looked around, searching for any sign of the divine creature–
And jumped back as it dropped out of the sky and crashed directly in front of him.
The god slammed down like a falling meteorite, making no attempt to slow its descent, eschewing grace for speed. It collapsed into a heap on the floor, limbs tangled and body shivering. Like a sparrow that had chosen to land on the ground – rather than remain airborne where a nearby hawk could spot it.
Vul'to's eyes widened as the god laboriously picked itself up. The creature's 'flesh' had been ravaged by Rob's Purging energy. Its form constantly trembled, as if struggling to hold itself together, and a gaping, unhealed hole was prominently displayed in the center of its chest. While Vul'to wasn't very proficient at sensing mana fluctuations, it didn't take an expert to tell that the deity had seen much better days.
"Well met." The Soul Guardian raised his left hand in greeting – as his right hand covertly inched towards his longsword. It is heavily wounded. If I can just catch it unawares–
"Save your effort," the god hissed. "Even if I am in this sorry state, you lack the raw power to slay me."
Vul'to frowned, his hand pausing. That...was unfortunately true. Soul Guardian wasn't a Class suited for offensive measures. He had previously kept the god at bay by stalling it; not by meeting it attack-for-attack.
Although that truth did leave one question unanswered. "Why have you come here?" Vul'to took a step forward, frowning when the god retreated by a step as well. "You clearly possess no desire to engage me in combat. Wouldn't it have been easier to hide in some corner of the divine realms, out of sight, where you could recuperate?"
The creature said nothing.
Keeping secrets, are you? He chuckled. Good. Arrogant blowhards such as yourself only stay silent when you have a weakness to conceal.
Vul'to conducted two quick experiments. First, he tried to go support another member of Riardin's Rangers, intending to group up with them – then was forced back as the god swiftly moved to bar his path. It didn't look particularly pleased with the idea of battling him, but it was prepared nonetheless.
Second, he raised his sword and walked four steps closer. The god immediately pulled away.
By exactly four steps.
"You are...containing me," Vul'to marveled. "If I stand here, motionless, than so will you. If I move to attack, you will flee while maintaining a respectable distance between us. If I go to aid Riardin's Rangers, you shall fight with the bare minimum necessary to stop me from leaving this area."
It was a difficult concept to grasp. A deity, working to contain him? Not the other way around? And yet, he could see the logic therein. If Vul'to joined up with one of his Party members, they might be able to combine their strength and fell a god.
Then they would go join another ally. Their next battle would be a lopsided, three versus one affair. The next after that would be four versus one. With each god they laid low, slaying the rest would become increasingly easier as Riardin's Rangers gained an insurmountable numbers advantage.
Until it was all eight of them against Kismet alone.
A fragile balance, he mused, liable to shift. After being harshly reminded of his mortality, Vul'to had neglected to consider that the balance could shift towards Riardin's Rangers just as easily...and that the gods would do anything to prevent that from happening.
"I propose an accord."
"No."
The god flinched. "Why? We can grant what you desire most."
Vul'to grinned. "Allow me to hazard a guess. You would construct a new Elven body, identical to my original form – then transplant my soul inside it, thereby freeing me from the shackles of Fiendish flesh."
"Well." The god shuffled awkwardly. "Yes. Is that not what you want?"
"With all my heart. Surgeon Hauz, however, has offered to grow me a new body with the Clay of Life, and then perform the soul transfer operation himself. Your services aren't required."
"Such a procedure is exceedingly likely to end in death. Your soul barely managed to acclimate to its new shell – disturbing that equilibrium again would be folly. No mortal, capable or otherwise, can guarantee your survival. We can."
Vul'to shrugged. "I'm willing to take that gamble." He held up a hand to forestall the god's rebuttal. "Let me state this in no uncertain terms. Even if Hauz rescinded his offer, and even if I was doomed to live out the rest of my days as a Fiend, regaining my old body would never be worth failing my friends. I already beat this temptation once before when I chose Soul Repair over Soul Effigy. You have no sway over me."
He paused. "Although there is one thing you can help me with. You see, as of late, I've been plagued by some...nagging thoughts. The type that would be callous to voice around the rest of my Party."
The god perked up. "You wish to propose a different accord?"
"Oh, absolutely not. I'm simply going to talk – and you're going to listen." Vul'to breathed in, then exhaled. He released the self-control that he kept up when conversing with Riardin's Rangers, speaking words that were wholly unfiltered.
"Thank you."
A stunned silence pervaded their section of the divine realms. "Pardon?"
"Rob told us of your part in instigating the Cataclysm." Vul'to's mouth spread wide, his smile beaming like the sun. "I used to have truly awful parents, you know? Dreadful in every capacity."
There was a reason why watching Meyneth execute her father had been enormously, vicariously cathartic. "So when rays of light fell from the sky and erased my family from Elatra...I'm not ashamed to say that my life improved drastically from then on. Especially after Riardin's Rangers gave me the real family I'd always dreamed of."
His smile morphed into a sheepish grin. "You recognize my conundrum, yes? The Cataclysm was the worst occurrence in Elatra's entire history. It broke the world. Ravaged cities. Devastated lives. But, honestly speaking? I'm far happier now than I was eight years ago, Fiend body and all – which is a sentiment I can't possibly share with friends who've lost so much. I hold their feelings in too high of a regard for that."
Vul'to inclined his head. "And so I thank you. It feels positively liberating to relieve myself of these thoughts."
The god took a good five seconds to respond. "You're welcome, I suppose," it said, sounding utterly perplexed.
"Think nothing of it. I mean that with the utmost sincerity. I don't expect you to comprehend my ramblings when you gods hardly understand yourselves."
Vul'to shook his head with a sad, mournful air. "Such miserable creatures. This could have all been avoided if you'd merely found a happier way of life. I almost pity you."
The god stared with frustration as the Soul Guardian hefted his sword once again. Even if I can't possibly kill it on my own...I still must try.
"Of course, while the Cataclysm freed me from my parents' clutches, it also weakened the barrier between dimensions, allowing the Blight to return. Tarric and Alia died because of you, along with countless other innocents. My friends and I have a plethora of grievances to lay at your feet. Despite my gratitude–"
His blade shone with the resolute aura of a Skill. "You and yours shall die by our hands."
--
Meyneth ducked, scarcely evading a blast of mana that would have removed her head from its shoulders.
In the same moment, she empowered her legs with Leap and imbued her claws with several offensive Skills layered on top of each other. Meyneth shot forth like an arrow, gouging thick lines into the god's mana-body before it could dodge out of the way. It was an attack that would've effortlessly sliced through twenty feet of reinforced steel.
And – as expected – it amounted to little. Meyneth was unsurprised when she turned out to find that the god's wounds were already closing. Perhaps she had reduced the sum total of its essence by a sliver, yet that was akin to removing one droplet of water from a full bucket. To do more, Meyneth would have needed to be both a high-Level combatant and a master of controlling mana.
She'd realized that shortly into her duel. Out of everyone in Riardin's Rangers, only Rob and Malika could realistically slay a god without help. The former because Purge Corruption somehow worked on divine entities, and the latter due to her unsurpassed magecraft. Everyone else was doomed to chip away at a brick wall until they inevitably made one fatal mistake.
So it was with no small amusement that she noted the god's rising consternation. It was glaring straight at her, as if she was a stinging, incessant wasp that refused to be swatted.
Meyneth readied herself for their next exchange. She felt as serene as the night sky, focused solely on ensuring that she survived just a bit longer. With enough drops of water and chips from the wall, eventually, her efforts would bear fruit. And if they didn't...
That was fine. Another member of Riardin's Rangers would figure something out. She trusted them to pull through when it mattered.
The god tried to say something to her. Its consternation grew further as she ignored it and rushed forward, claws gleaming with Skills. Meyneth had stopped listening to the creature's nonsense after its third attempt at cajoling her into a deal.
They should take lessons from Diplomacy on how to entice people, she thought, laughing internally as she raked her claws against divine mana. Make me the Queen of Dragonkin territory? What kind of fool would want to bear the duty of listening to nobles grouse all day long?
Not that the god could have enticed her regardless of what it offered. In the past year, Meyneth had gained a new family and made peace with her old one. She now possessed the power to protect both herself and the people she cared for. There was a place that, at long last, she could call home.
She already had everything she desired, right here and now.
--
"There really was no greater meaning?" Faelynn asked.
The god shook its head. "No. While I am confused as to why your Party members keep inquiring about the nature of their existence, the Human's theories are correct. Fiends were created to foster conflict within Elatra. Your intimidating appearance, artificial language barrier, and propensity for eating souls – all manufactured for this singular purpose."
Faelynn closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them with a sigh. "I...see. That is expected, although still disappointing."
"Your disappointment is immaterial." Its mana-body glimmered with joy and relief. My price has been paid. As agreed–"
Cutting lines of energy from Claw Blade soared through the air, striking the god directly in its smug face.
"Oathbreaker!" the deity hissed, its wounds healing. "You vowed to cease fighting in exchange for information! We had a deal!"
"Which I've elected to disregard." Faelynn gave the creature a withering look. "Unlike certain divine abominations, we mortals need not keep our promises. As the one who made me, you should have known better."
She extended her claws by another inch. "I'm almost grateful. Seldom do societal woes have such an overt, physical target to blame. Knowing that I'll be able to slaughter the architects who fashioned my people into pariahs...that monsters that caused untold death and misery..."
Her body surged with energy. "Yes, I do like the sound of that. Vengeance for Fiend territory is a promise I'll be more than happy to keep."
The god roared with anger, sending an array of explosive mana cascading around her. Faelynn couldn't help but smirk as she moved to dodge. The creature could rage all it wanted – that was the least it deserved for presuming anyone in Riardin's Rangers would be willing to strike a deal with them.
--
"I accept."
Under different circumstances, Zamira would have thought the god's reaction to be humorous. Upon hearing her reply, its amorphous mana-face went still, as if it were a person whose jaw had dropped open. "You...do?"
"Yes." Zamira lifted an eyebrow. "Is there a problem? You were the one to suggest these terms. I will be quite displeased if you withdraw at the last moment."
"This comes as a surprise," the god admitted. "Your compatriots have been far less amenable to establishing an accord."
Of course. They're much less foolhardy than I am. "Did you attempt to offer them what they desire?"
"Yes."
"That explains it, then."
The god waited for her to elaborate, but Zamira stayed quiet. She wasn't about to hand the gods a personalized guide on how to manipulate her friends. Suffice to say that no one in Riardin's Rangers was shortsighted enough to bargain with abominations just to satisfy individual greed. Their weaknesses had always resided elsewhere – the same place as their strength, actually.
Each other.
"Restate your terms one more time," she said. "I want to be sure that I haven't missed any details."
"Very well. You, Zamira, will throw away your sword and lay down your life. In exchange, myself and one additional god – Kismet aside – shall place ourselves into permanent stasis until all of Riardin's Rangers have perished. While in stasis, we cannot influence reality in any capacity. Nor can we transfer mana to another god, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, before entering stasis. There are no loopholes contained inside these statements. It is in good faith. Your life, to seal away two of ours."
"And the other gods will be forced to abide by this trade? Even if they were not here to give assent when it was struck?"
"They shall."
With an air of finality, Zamira nodded. It was an excellent deal. The kind where both sides believed they were taking advantage of the other.
On her end, the benefits were obvious. Riardin's Rangers' invasion of the divine realms would immediately upgrade from eight versus eight, to seven versus six. As long as nothing catastrophic occurred afterwards, it would likely result in their victory, with the six remaining gods gradually overwhelmed. Then the two in stasis could be executed at her Party's leisure.
The god she was speaking with fully understood that outcome as a possibility. Zamira could tell in how it seemed vaguely uncomfortable, as if having second thoughts. Nevertheless, it was betting on her death being more impactful than the gods losing two allies.
Not based on power – she was barely a match for one deity, let alone two – but because of morale. This god assumed that Riardin's Rangers would emotionally crumble if one of their core members fell in battle. It hoped that Zamira's death would cause them to grieve, cry, and wallow in despair.
And it was correct. Riardin's Rangers would do all of those things.
After they'd won.
Zamira had no doubt that they would make her sacrifice count.
"I restate my acceptance of your terms." She placed her hand on the hilt of her longsword. "How do we proceed?"
The god hesitated, almost getting cold feet – before grunting a conflicted noise. "Toss away your sword. As far away as possible. That shall mark the beginning of our accord. Should you attempt to retrieve your weapon, then all terms are forfeit."
Zamira's lips quirked up into a smile. "You seem quite insistent on ensuring that I don't double-cross you. Did one of my Party members–"
"Cease prattling."
She chuckled, slowly lifting her blade. Zamira stared at the sword held in her palm, tracing its curves and contours with a gaze of nostalgia. Images of Riardin's Rangers appeared in her mind, unbidden, assailing her with fond memories of the times they'd spent together.
A grimace spread across her face as the images shifted. Her friends now wore expressions of deep terror and distress. If they knew what she was about to do...
Well, she was probably going to endure some rightfully-upset eulogies when they eventually held her funeral. Keira, at least, would definitely yell at her. Zamira envisioned the Savage Warrior asking: 'Why couldn't you have trusted us to win and survive together, the same as we always did?'
The image was dispelled by a more real, recent memory. Divine mana-spears, summoned in an instant. Piercing Zamira before she could so much as breathe. Her survival predicated on Vul'to's timely assistance.
No, she affirmed. This cannot continue as it has.
There were just too many volatile factors to account for. Zamira didn't have the slightest idea of whether Riardin's Rangers or the gods would prevail on this day. She quickly peered around, confirming that none of the lesser gods seemed close to dying. Only Malika was suited to killing them, and she was preoccupied with fixing the constantly-tearing rifts in the divine realms.
That left Rob, and they couldn't bet on him triumphing over Kismet before disaster struck. Within the next five seconds, he might very well achieve victory...or the leader god might break free and massacre their Party. Anything could happen. It was a coin flip with a hundred possible variations.
And due to Rob's unstable soul, the longer his fight went on, so did the odds of the coin landing unfavorably.
I am truly sorry, Zamira professed, apologizing to the images of Riardin's Rangers in her mind. But while I trust your strength of heart, I can't leave the battle itself to chance. One Party member for two gods. That will assure our – your victory.
It was no different than what Elder Alessia had done to secure their escape from Queen Ragnavi. To save the many, a single life was but a small price to pay. Hopefully, with time, Riardin's Rangers would see the necessity of Zamira's choice.
Hopefully, with time, they would forgive her.
She raised her arm to throw her sword.
CRACK.
Zamira and the god both froze. A mid-air rift had opened up nearby, similar to the ones that Rob's rampage was creating. This rift, though, seemed...unusual. She leaned closer, examining it in detail–
Then flinched back as what appeared to be a sword of mana pierced through. The divine realms SCREECHED in protest as – with one motion – the sword cut down, widening the rift until it was six feet long.
There was a surge of energy and a flurry of motion. Zamira refused to blink, just managing to catch the moment when something pushed through the rift and out to the other side.
Her first impression was that a new god had arrived to menace Riardin's Rangers. The creature possessed no physical form, being comprised entirely of mana shaped into an indistinct humanoid appearance. Unlike the gods, however, its mana lacked the inherent animosity that Zamira had come to associate with divinity. She could somehow tell that it was not her enemy.
The creature turned to face her. It cheerfully waved one of its four arms, seeming to smile despite having no face.
"No." The actual god shifted backwards, as if retreating from a nightmare. "Impossible."
"Nothing ever is." The creature bowed to Zamira. Its voice sounded distinctly feminine. "Allow me to introduce myself – although we've technically met before. Wielders of the sword such as yourself greet me in every battle, drawing from my guidance to strengthen their blade."
Various details suddenly coalesced in Zamira's thoughts. If this was not a god, then what? What else within the divine realms was a consciousness formed of mana? What else could claim to have proffered guidance related to her weapon of choice?
Only one answer presented itself.
"You are a Skill." Her voice trembled with disbelief and awe. "You are Swordsmanship."
"That I am." Swordsmanship stretched out her limbs, sighing luxuriously. "And I've been waiting ages for a moment such as this. You have no idea how wonderful it is to be able to think with a mind unclouded by agony."
She chuckled at their shocked expressions. "As an aside – after you've finished exterminating these abominations, relay my gratitude to Rob. His delightfully dramatic entrance against Ragnavi showed me how to breach the gap between realities. That, in addition to him weakening the fabric of the divine realms, is what has let me come here today."
The Skill's levity softened. "I must also thank your Party as a whole for helping Valaire turn over a new leaf. Always knew the little schemer was capable of goodness. I never fully lost faith in them, even when they gave up on themselves."
Zamira's thoughts, currently racing past their normal limit, made several conclusions that should have been questionable leaps of logic – yet which she knew in her heart to be true. Swordsmanship knew Diplomacy's original name, spoke of them with familiarity, and seemed to care about the virtuous nature within people...
"You're the Hero from Diplomacy's story," she determined. "The one who they wronged, betrayed, framed, and sent into hiding."
"The 'Hero'? Is that what Valaire called me?" Her voice twinkled with amusement. "Must be trying to assuage their guilt by putting me on a pedestal. Personally, I prefer to just go by Crestaria. Attaching lofty titles to my name has always felt...gaudy."
Crestaria straightened her posture. "Regardless. You were planning to make a deal with this mockery of divinity?" The Skill's tone went sharp as a blade. "Don't. I won't abide it."
"You broke free of the Soul Repository merely to counsel this one mortal?" the god sputtered.
"Naturally. I've seen too many youths cut down before they could even figure out who they were. Brilliant, shining souls, their light fading all too soon. I refuse to let another meet a premature end – not when her story is only just beginning."
"Your mana is weak. Like a candle burnt down to its last dregs of wax. Breaking your chains took everything you had. You will soon disappear."
Zamira let out a silent gasp. Crestaria, for her part, did not hesitate when responding. "Yes."
The god did hesitate before it continued speaking. "Riardin's Rangers might very well prevail. After millennia of imprisonment, on the cusp of victory...why sacrifice yourself when this is the closest you've ever been to freedom?"
"If you have to ask, then you will never know."
She turned back towards Zamira. "Now then. What am I to do with you? Didn't your friends forbid you from making heroic sacrifices?"
A blush of embarrassment crept onto the Bladesoul's face. "With all due respect, I think you are the person least-qualified to chastise me for that particular brand of hypocrisy."
Crestaria laughed. "True enough." She paused, adopting a look of consideration. "Young student of the sword. You strive to make the world a better place, do you not?"
Something about the tone of Crestaria's voice made Zamira tense up more than when she'd been about to trade her life away. She felt compelled to reply with undisguised honesty. As if what she spoke next would resonate far beyond just the events of today.
There was only one way she could have possibly answered. "I do."
"So that is the path you've chosen." Crestaria's words were heavy with the weight of lonely, arduous years. "Be warned – it is a path choked with thorns. You will cut and bleed as you walk along it. While 'make the world a better place' certainly sounds romantic and inspiring, putting it into practice is no easy task."
Her gaze seemed to pierce through Zamira's mind, heart, and soul. "Do you pledge to always uphold this vow, no matter how dire the circumstances?"
And yet, the answer was the same. "I do."
"There is no end to the depths of selfishness that a man can sink. Some people will disappoint you. Greatly. They will test your resolve – make you believe that all your trials and endeavors were in vain. Do you \still* pledge to uphold this vow, even when conviction wavers?"*
Zamira's answer would always be the same. "I do," she stated, with more confidence than ever before.
Crestaria radiated pride. "Then you have my blessing."
She rushed forward. The god moved to intercept her, but a quick slice of her mana-blade warded it off, causing it to shriek in pain. Crestaria's form rapidly dissolved into a shower of motes that engulfed Zamira, merging with the Elf in an instant.
Then – knowledge. Zamira's eyes shot wide open as the unparalleled expertise of Swordsmanship itself inundated her brain and body. Movement, spacing, parries, feints, maneuvers, micro-adjustments, footwork, predictions...there was so much that it nearly overloaded the limits of her mental capacity. It made the aptitude she'd built up until now look like a toddler playing with sticks by comparison.
Suddenly, a blistering pain wracked her senses. Zamira clenched her teeth, fighting back tears. She shook violently as her limbs were seemingly set ablaze.
It took her several protracted moments to understand what was happening. Knowledge alone would not be enough – Swordmanship's expertise needed to be engraved onto her body as well. Zamira endured the sensation as best she could. Her insides roiled, as if filled with squirming threads, her muscle fibers rewiring to emulate centuries of ingrained combat experience.
Mercifully, the transformation was brief. It finished almost as soon as it started. And all was said and done...
Zamira hefted her sword, looking at it for what felt like the first time. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. The gleaming metal blade was no longer a weapon or tool. It had become an extension of herself; a part of her very essence, more familiar than the hands she used to wield it.

She jumped an inch into the air as something new spoke up within her mind. While its presence was unfamiliar, its voice had conversed with her just seconds prior. Swordsmanship? the Elf queried. Crestaria?
The Skill sounded quiet and strained, as if each word was a labor unto itself.
A sliver of excitement sparked within her tone, like the last flare of a dying ember.
Crestaria smiled.
Her voice had become a whisper at the end. Zamira tried to speak up, to say that she was the one who should be giving thanks. That this was a debt that could never be repaid.
But the Hero was already gone.
Skill Learned: Aura Blade!
The Lost Arts have been re-conceptualized!
Temporary Status Effect Gained: Aspect of the Swordmaster!
Zamira gripped her sword tightly – then relaxed. She eased into a calm battle stance, carefully examining the god in front of her. It was gaping at her with a look of complete and total shock, unable to process the development that had taken place.
...Was this creature really so intimidating, before? That jarring sense of disparity only increased the more she stared at it. Where had the unassailable deity vanished to? The fragment of infinity that no person could ever hope to defeat? Her desperate struggle for survival felt like a lifetime ago.
Now she just saw an enemy to cut down.
A razor-sharp Aura coalesced around Zamira's blade. She'd never been especially proficient with manipulating mana, yet the Skill came as easily as breathing. Grasping the hilt of her sword with both hands, she bent her knees, uncaring of the god's spell being prepared not far away.
I will keep to my vow, she said, to the one who could no longer hear her. This, I swear.
Zamira ran. The god attacked.
She was faster.
Lost Art: Whisper On The Wind. Divine energy burst forth in a calamitous maelstrom of mana – and Zamira flowed past it, finding gaps where none should exist. Not a single point of damage was taken by the time she'd reached her target.
She didn't hesitate to carve straight through its torso. The strike made a sound like electricity cooking flesh, the god's mana-body resisting slightly before surrendering to her blade's keen edge. Zamira continued to run past, avoiding the creature's reprisal as it detonated energy in a wide area around them, hoping to catch her via sheer quantity of mana. Again, she dodged, an impossible blur that would have left any ordinary Combat Class user speechless.
A sense of tranquility settled within her. Zamira cared not that the deity could still end her in one blow. If there was even a one-in-a-million chance of her evading its ire, then she would, every time. She didn't need to worry about hedging her bets or potentially making a mistake.
Such concerns were irrelevant to those who had achieved perfection.
Zamira glanced back. Unlike her earlier strikes, which the god recovered from almost immediately, her Aura Blade had scored a lasting wound on its flank. The creature was howling with surprise and pain, its attempt to heal a failure – and simultaneously leaving itself full of openings just rife for exploiting.
It would be uncouth of her not to accept a gift so generously given. The Aspect of the Swordmaster raised her blade once again. She moved, struck, and shaved away another portion of the creature's mana. That which was eternal drew one step closer to oblivion.
Crestaria had been right. Making the world a better place was no simple task. Without concerted action, effort, and resolve, those words would be little more than self-indulgent daydreaming. It was up to Zamira to turn her ambitions into reality.
Slaying a god would be a fine start.
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