The weight of the stone club in his hand was a comforting, solid reality. It was the first thing in this strange new existence that felt truly his. "Now that I have a weapon, I must hunt for food," Ray murmured to himself, his eyes scanning the horizon. The geography was stark in its divisions. To the north and west, the land rose into the dark, brooding canopy of a forest. Due south, jagged mountains clawed at the sky, while to the east, endless prairies stretched out like a sea of gold. There were no welcoming paths, no signs of civilization. Only wilderness.
"Hmm. Let's head west to the forest," he decided. "There's smoke coming from the west," he added, the words feeling both foreign and familiar on his tongue. It was a memory that wasn't his, a sensory ghost whispered by the body he now inhabited.
The forest loomed closer, an ancient wall of oak and pine. The air grew cool and damp, filled with the scent of decaying leaves and rich earth. After about twenty minutes of cautious travel, a flicker of movement at the forest's edge caught his eye. He froze, melting into the shadow of a large fir tree.
There, partially concealed by a fern, was a creature. "Hmm. Looks like a large salamander," Ray observed silently. It was about three feet long, with slick, glistening purple skin and a crest of what looked like poisonous spines along its back. It was hunched over, gnawing on the carcass of some small rodent, utterly preoccupied.
"I should try to analyze it." The thought was instinctive. "How do I cast spells, Athena?" he asked internally.
"Just focus on the spell you want to cast and its target," her voice echoed, a calm presence in his mind.
"Ok, let's try it."
Ray narrowed his eyes, picturing a flow of energy from his core to his hand, directed at the strange reptile. He focused on the concept of knowing, of peeling back the layers of the creature to see its truth. A sudden warmth bloomed in his palm, and a ring of shimmering green light materialized, circling his wrist like a benevolent serpent. With a final, silent command, the ring streaked away, a bolt of emerald energy that washed over the salamander. Instantly, a translucent screen of information superimposed itself over his vision.
Purple Poison Lizard
Level: 1
HP: 10/10
Str: 2 | Con: 3 | Dex: 4 | Int: 0 | Wis: 0 | Chr: 1
Abilities: Poison Resistance.
Skills: Poison Breath.
A predator's calm settled over Ray. It was weak. He could take it. He hefted his club, his movements fluid and silent as he used the undergrowth for cover. He closed the distance, his breath still. The lizard, sensing a shift in the air a second too late, began to turn its head. Ray was already in motion.
He swung the stone club in a short, brutal arc, putting all the strength of his new body into the blow. It connected with the lizard's back with a sickening, wet crunch. The sound of its spine shattering was unmistakable. The creature let out a high-pitched, pig-like squeal, its body convulsing, legs scrabbling uselessly at the dirt. A wave of revulsion tried to rise in him, but a colder, more pragmatic instinct smothered it. This was survival. He planted his left foot firmly on the creature's thrashing body, pinning it, and with a second, decisive smash of his club, ended its suffering.
A faint chime sounded in his mind.
10 XP Received.
He looked down at the oozing remains. "Hmm, I wonder if I can eat this thing?"
"If you assimilate it, you won't need to eat it," Athena informed him. "The nutrients will be absorbed directly into your body, far more efficiently."
"Ok, let's assimilate it then."
He reached out with his left hand, his fingers brushing against the cool, slick skin. He willed the process to begin. A strange sensation flowed up his arm—not heat, not cold, but a profound absorption. The lizard's body began to dissolve into a stream of shimmering purple and grey particles that flowed into his palm. A progress bar, visible only to him, ticked upwards in his mind's eye. 10%... 20%... 30%... The body disintegrated, flesh, bone, and essence unraveling into pure energy. ...100%. Assimilation Complete.
New knowledge flooded his synapses, a blueprint of the creature's biological defenses and its unique offensive mechanism.
Ability Learned: Poison Resistance Level 1.
Skill Learned: Poison Breath Level 1.
"Wow, I got a new ability and skill," Ray breathed, a thrill of excitement cutting through the grimness of the act. He quickly pulled up his status to inspect the gains.
He saw the new entries nestled among his abilities and skills. Poison Resistance would reduce poison's effect by 10%, and Poison Breath was a potent damage-over-time attack. But the most intriguing part was under Transformations. He now had the option to become a Purple Poison Lizard, and his partial transformation list now included the "Club Weapon."
"I'm gonna try my new form," he declared, curiosity overriding caution.
He focused on the image of the lizard, on the feeling of its form, its quadrupedal stance, its sensory array. His body responded instantly. A bizarre, liquefying sensation washed over him, as if every cell was being disassembled and reassembled in a new configuration. It wasn't painful, but it was profoundly disorienting. In moments, he was looking at the world from a foot off the ground, his vision tinged with a different spectrum of light.
"Let's check my stats."
Purple Poison Lizard Form
Level: 1
HP: 110/110 (Base 10 + 100 from Ray)
Str: 12 | Con: 13 | Dex: 14 | Int: 10 | Wis: 10 | Chr: 11
Abilities: Poison Resistance.
Skills: Poison Breath.
"This is great! I can see that my stats combine with the lizard form," he said, his voice a raspy hiss. The power was intoxicating. He willed himself back to his humanoid form, the process just as swift. "All right, I'll continue west and investigate the smoke."
Emboldened, he moved deeper into the woods. Over the next hour, he encountered three more of the purple lizards. Each encounter was a lesson in combat. He used his club, he experimented with a partial lizard-arm transformation to deliver a poisoned scratch, and on the last one, he simply unleashed a cone of sickly green gas—Poison Breath. The creature choked and spasmed, its health dwindling to nothing in seconds.
+30 XP Total.
He assimilated each one, but as Athena warned, he gained no new abilities or skills from duplicates. The process only seemed to work the first time, storing the essential pattern. After the last assimilation, he looked up, the acrid scent of smoke now strong in his nostrils. The source was just ahead, past a thicket of thorny bushes.
Crouching low, Ray used his new Sneak skill, his movements becoming a whisper in the forest. He slipped past the final line of trees and the scene that unfolded before him stole his breath.
It was a village, or what was left of one. Five small, rickety huts were now little more than pyres, their frames collapsing into embers. The smoke he'd seen was the funeral shroud of this place. The air was thick with the stench of burnt wood, blood, and death. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of dread.
He crept closer, using a still-smoldering wall for cover, and saw the first body. It was small, green-skinned, and brutally hacked. A goblin. A cold knot tightened in his stomach. He moved on, a silent ghost in a graveyard, checking the entire area. The tally was grim: five huts, twelve bodies, all goblins. The attackers were gone.
After a final, thorough check confirming he was alone, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. A morbid practicality took hold. "If I assimilate these Goblins and their weapons and armor, it will strengthen me."
He began the grim task of gathering the scattered, crude weapons: an iron short sword, a dagger, a war axe, a short bow. He found a rusty iron helm and a shirt of equally rusty chainmail. As his fingers closed around the haft of the war axe, a violent wave of disorientation hit him.
It was more than deja vu. It was a memory tsunami.
The heat of a forge. The grinning, ugly face of an older goblin teaching him how to hold an axe. The smell of boiled roots and roasted grubs from a communal pot. The feel of a rough straw pallet in a cramped hut. Laughter. Fear. The thunder of heavy feet, the guttural war cries of orcs. A searing pain in his side as an orcish blade found its mark. Running, stumbling, lungs burning, through these very woods. Collapsing on the prairie, the world fading to black...
Ray staggered, dropping the axe and clutching his head. The memories weren't his, yet they were. They were the final, desperate experiences of the body he now inhabited. This wasn't just a random corpse he'd found; this was his former home. He had lived here for two years, a changeling pretending to be a goblin, before it was all torn down.
A slow-burning anger began to replace his shock and confusion. It was a righteous fury, both his own and a final, posthumous gift from the soul that had vacated this flesh. He looked at the scorched bodies, no longer seeing them as potential power-ups, but as his murdered kin.
"So my soul was reincarnated into this body after he died," Ray whispered to the silent, smoldering clearing. "Well, the most I can do is avenge the former host. I will track these orcs down and destroy them. But first, I must get stronger."
His purpose was now crystal clear. With a newfound solemnity, he touched each of the twelve fallen goblins. "I will carry you with me," he vowed as the assimilation process began. One by one, they dissolved into streams of light, their physical forms and their essences becoming part of his being. He did the same with the gathered weapons and armor, feeling the iron's strength and the memories of its craftsmanship seep into him.
When it was done, a cascade of system notifications flooded his mind.
XP Gained...
New Transformations Unlocked: Goblin.
Partial Transformations Updated: Iron Dagger, Short Sword, War Axe, Short Bow, Helm, Chainmail.
Ability Learned: Night Vision.
Skills Learned: Slice, Sneak (Enhanced).
Skill Synthesized: Basic Weapon Mastery Level 1.
He pulled up his full status, eager to see the totality of his new power.
Name: Ray "Thorzen" Silver
Age: 16
Level: 1
HP: 100/100
MP: 50/50
Race: Changeling (Unique)
Class: None
Job: None
XP: 40/300
Skill Points: 2
Attribute Points: 2
Attributes:
· Strength: 10
· Constitution: 10
· Dexterity: 10
· Intelligence: 10
· Wisdom: 10
· Charisma: 10
Abilities:
· Assimilation: Level 1
· Poison Resistance: Level 1
· Night Vision
Transformations:
· Purple Poison Lizard
· Goblin
Skills:
· Basic Weapon Mastery: Level 1 (Passive)
· Strike: Level 1
· Slice: Level 1
· Sneak: Level 1
· Poison Breath: Level 1
Spells: Analyze
He was no longer just a lost soul in a strange land. He was Ray, he was Thorzen, he was a Changeling. He was the inheritor of a goblin village's legacy and the vessel for its vengeance. The path ahead was drenched in blood and shadow, but for the first time, he could see it clearly. He looked west, towards the deeper, darker parts of the forest where the orcs must have gone.
He had a hunt to begin.