I’m awake early the next morning, bright-eyed and ready to work. An abnormal situation to be sure. I wouldn’t normally be up so early, let alone after a night of drinking suspicious concoctions posing as liquor. However, these aren’t normal circumstances.

Now that I’ve gotten some progress in my magic studies, Saintsday is reserved for Geneva’s tutoring lessons. Not the informal conversations and demonstrations from before, no. She has a plan, a lesson-by-lesson guide to have me master my abilities. The first lesson? I do not miss Geneva’s class. Period.

There is no way to accurately describe having someone reach into your mind and turn your sleepy brain into a horse pawing at the ground in its eagerness to take off. It is as creepy as it is effective.

The worst part is I can’t bring myself to tell her not to do it as she’s helping. But a feeling of…strangeness lingers for the rest of the day. Something…eh, no. Best not to think about it. The point is, I’m never late, absent, or inattentive. Don’t want her helping me in other ways.

The first thing she decided to focus on is shapeshifting, since it’s arguably my greatest talent and the easiest to develop.

“I’ve drawn a few observations about your shapeshifting ability,” she says, tail slowly whipping back and forth. “The first and most obvious, your shapeshifting is completely instinctual. However, the important part here is it is a physical reflex and not a mental one. As in, you cannot change forms at will but that body of yours can. To do so, your body must have knowledge of what it is mimicking, usually by ingesting it in some part.”

Sigh. It would have been amazing if it were both a physical and mental boon. Geneva tested my ability by displaying groupings of numbers that represent saints know what manner of monstrosities from all the planes she’s visited. Things far more interesting than a little wolf and a hawk. Unfortunately, the shapeshifting spells she uses as easily as breathing are so alien to me, the numbers and symbols make as much sense as the stars in the sky.

“Second, the reason why you’re able to shapeshift multiple times despite your limited coefficient. That is again due to that miraculous body. It is not flesh and blood, but a physical manifestation of mana itself.” She hastily wipes away a bit of drool at the corner of her lips. Sorry, your attempt at maintaining your dignity has failed. I can still see the hungry look in your eyes.

“Eh-hm. Your body somehow transmutes matter into mana and then consumes its own mass to fuel its shifting. Which is truly remarkable. There are some forms even I cannot change into due to their sheer complexity but with a sample of the creature and enough mass, there is no form beyond your means.

“Lastly, your transformations are triggered, directed, and only limited to your thoughts. And this is where we will pick up.” Her tail whips faster. “The area I would like you to focus on is chimera builds.”

Huh?

“Mixing the traits of one form with another. Another thing you can do naturally.”

“Then what are you going to teach me?”

“Finesse and creativity, my summoner. You lack imagination. For example, it is obvious that a dusk hawk has better eyes than a human. However, did you think about replacing your nails with their harder talons? Or substituting their superior nerves for faster reflexes? Or perhaps mimicking the muscles of your troll form for greater power?”

Again, huh?

She chuckles at what must be a very confused expression on my face. “At least you do not lack foresight, for obtaining me as your teacher was a very good decision.” Fire appears before her, taking the vague form of a person. “Now that I have an understanding of the symbols and teaching methods of this plane, we can begin.”

What begins is an in-depth lesson of the human body. Never knew we had so many parts. And the math behind even the smallest part is mind-bending. My opinion that Cosmo is a god is reinforced by the lesson. What else could solve spells that make me dizzy looking at them instinctively? Saints above.

“I want you to do something for me, Lou,” she says to me after my head is throbbing with new information. “I want you to imagine your ideal form. The perfect you. What do you think that is?”

The perfect me, huh. Hm. I’m still most comfortable in my human skin. A small fear lives in the back of my mind that one day, I’ll spend too long in another form and forget my own face. I’m quite attached to it. “I guess me but…better.”

Geneva grins, her pink irises practically shining. “Think deeper, Lou. You alone can truly be anything you want. For example…” Her tail comes around, waving in front of her face.

“…you want me to grow a tail?”

“No, I’m saying you could. And they are quite handy. Or perhaps—” A squint at a sudden rush of air as two dark shapes sprout from her back. She throws out her new wings, the new appendages dark and leathery.

“Wings are a little much. I do have the air affinity.”

“I’d thought you’d want to avoid any comparisons to Aurelius.” I immediately frown at his name, the bald bastard. Even his hair couldn’t stand to be around him. “And flight is very convenient.” With a shrugging motion the wings disappear. “The point is to think outside of common sense, my summoner. Come on. If there was one trait you wished you had, what would it be?”

Hm, I don’t—oh.

“I see you’ve thought of something.” Her grin turns predatory as I my face flush, no doubt seeing what I’m imagining.

I find it difficult to imagine a wildly different version of me. After all, I grew up in this body and Kierra seems just fine with it. There is only one flaw, or more a shortcoming. Eh, maybe two. Both involve my wife and her…appetites.

“Could you, I don’t know, make me smell like them? But, not as strong.” The other part of a troll I know she likes is easy but taking something’s scent? I wouldn’t know how to begin.

“Even better, my summoner. Rather than simply copying them, you could blend it together with your own scent. You can surpass them, become her only obsession.”

“…damn temptress.” How can I possibly refuse such a proposition?

The two of us have our heads over a piece of paper with a series of numbers scribbled across it when we’re interrupted by a pre-pubescent voice.

“Excuse me, Lady Tome.”

I turn to see Earl standing in the doorway. He’s really getting into the role of my steward, standing straight and proud in his uniform. A far cry from the dirty bandit I picked up off the road. Amazing what a little purpose and not having to worry about their next meal can do for someone.

“You have a visitor. A Miss Talia?”