The last fading rays of light were still peeking out between the snow-capped peaks to the west, the ground was soft, and Karen felt great. Better than great. Better than she had felt in a decade. Physically, without question, but strangely also mentally.

Her wealth, her business, home, friends, family – they’d all been yanked out from under her like the proverbial rug. She missed those aspects of her life but in a conflicted way. It was also akin to setting down a burden, like she had been released from the chains that bound. The unexpected freedom was one she didn’t know she’d wanted, and the edge of loss she’d been feeling was now blunted.

The Bob Ross backdrop combined with an improved physical and mental wellbeing all combined for a rather ideal way to wake up.

Amazing, actually. What was that? It tasted like week old death, but I’m not even footsore. I expected to be laid up for days after all that. She illustrated her vigor by gaining her feet and limbering up.

I should have been taking this minute one. This is incredible. She wanted to run, wanted to sprint. From scalp to toe everything felt like a spring wound up with potential.

If this was the caveman version then what were the elixirs coming out of elf compounding pharmacies like? Every time it felt like she was starting to get a handle on this magic thing some new little glimpse into this world would make her question that, and it always left her hungry for more more more. If only the flavor didn’t start off as ash and get worse from there.

Her spear was where she’d left it against and nearby tree, and her weight flexed the shaft a bit as she leaned to watch the daylight’s final, colorful goodbyes. It hadn’t been a bad day. As days go, it wouldn’t even make her top twenty-five bad days clickbait list. Number six will shock you. It was the day she tried to use pliers to pull out a piece of plug that had broken off in a wall socket.

We should get back to town.

Calling it ‘getting back’ was generous as it was a casual walk to make their way to the village from the edge of the river’s flood basin. If it was still spring the basin would be flowing angrily with meltwater and chunks of ice, but the late summer only offered a muddy plain with massive snarls of drift which Karen put to her back without a second thought.

The elf bakery was near empty but not yet closed – by far her favorite way to find it – and she was pleased to find the menu had changed for a limited time. Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys. The name they gave was unpronounceable in length and the cuts were charred and unspiced, yet it worked pretty well with the grainy, dark bread that seemed to occupy the entirety of the baker’s cookbook. Seconds were bought without a second thought. Scooping paste from a bowl with hunks of said bread gets old fast, and exercise induced bulimia works up a mighty appetite.

Her new routine was to go claim a cot and get some rest after dinner, but thanks to her alchemical enhancement tiredness had effectively skipped right the fuck out of town. Thus, her new new routine was born: running, practicing thrusts and sweeps with the spear, lifting heavy things, pushing heavy things, pulling heavy things, rolling heavy things, running while holding heavy things. The locals kept their distance, even when Karen borrowed logs from the stacks waiting to be floated downriver, and that suited her just fine.

A sharp increase in general snippiness on the third day signaled the eminent need for a new elixir. The second attempt at alchemy was even more successful than the first. Karen didn’t even black out for this one, limiting her immediate side effects to a weak-kneed sit in the grass. The carefree calm slid back over her like a heavy blanket. Tense muscles unknotted thanks to the chemical massage. All that was lacking was some terrible new age music that’s half synth and half flute played over ambient running water noise.

Even as the intensity of training ramped up it somehow continued to get easier. Sleep was reduced to a couple hours a day, if it happened at all. The physical recovery the potion provided combined with the mental recovery of meditation killed the need.

On that ninth day, in one of those moments of meditation, her soul stretched just as it had the first day. The new change in level was just as powerful mentally and physically as the first had been.

She’d grown again, and it was showing. Her clothing, even though it was receiving regular cleaning, was beginning to fail to live up to the challenges of a new world.

Her yoga pants, which had once been ankle length, full on made the change to a mid-calf style, and were now straining at the thigh in a much different way. The running shoes that had finally lived up to their name were now too small to function as anything more than a foot-binding torture device, and had long ago been rendered filthy and stinking thanks to several trips into local waterways. Her sports bra was bordering on uncomfortably tight, and the shirt over it was tightening at the shoulders. If things continued, the entire world would be at risk of not knowing the current time was wine o’clock.

The worst of those issues was, without question, the shoes. Going barefoot in a public lacked appeal, and Karen considered it to be a defining feature of both savages and the filthy, filthy homeless. The disgust she felt for both was enjoyed while blissfully unaware that those exact phrases were how the villagers described her. Public opinion aside, the shoes were indicative of a growing problem: her size.

She had mixed feelings about being big. Spending the majority of her life just a hair under six foot she had never had any shortage uncomfortable moments. Some were innocuous enough, like a bad tinder date or two, or an occasional awkward look from strangers. Some were more sinister, like overheard rude comments from acquaintances, or the rarely heard very clever and original person bold enough to yell, ‘that’s a HUGE bitch!’ In spite of it, there was something about being big that made her feel fucking powerful, and according to the spirit it was that impression that made these changes manifest.

The most frightening part was simply not knowing. Not knowing what the extent would be or when it would stop. Would she wake up one day standing six foot twenty, fucking killing for fun? Maybe it would never stop.

To add to her worries, investing her absorbed source had left her nearly broke. Turns out squeezing your eyes shut with a soul stuffed with wizardcash then opening them back up to find you’re broke, wearing too small shoes, and suddenly a few inches taller was a super shitty magic trick. It would fool Penn and Teller though.

With the source stones she’d received from selling stupid elf carrots nearly all gone and the source she’d absorbed from stupid elf planet now wiped out, Karen was forced to spend the next day gathering instead of training. Having a pile of money instead of a pile of plants is a pretty good balm for that wound. Certainly, a day well spent.

The return to training was not any amount of time well spent. The punishing, rewarding gauntlet she’d become accustomed to no longer felt like any of those things. It was boring. The slow, steady grind of mortal fitness couldn’t compare to the instant gratification of supernatural rewards. And how could it? That is a fundamentally unfair competition.

With some very convincing fussing, a hot meal, and a good night of sleep, Karen found herself poised to take the next step.

---

‘Ugly lizard that kills aggressively.’ Oh boy, I can’t wait. Karen thought sarcastically. Both in this particular instance and frequently with gusto.

I don’t see why I should bother since you’ve definitely already picked one. What is today’s lesson, professor? Cartography? Business ethics? The spirit didn’t bother to respond, and she suspected it knew that would piss her off more than anything it could say.

Why do some have real names and some have dumb names? Like here, rage imp. I can see what a rage imp is, little demon guy that probably drinks too much and hits his imp kids when they don’t clear the sink. Karen thumped a finger into a blue page. Winged ambusher that preys on the unwary.

Sure enough, the WATPOTU was labelled as wildlife. Karen yanked off her ring and hung it from a nail on the board, curious for what the words would resolve into. The picture it spaghetti’d was something like a bat, in the body at least. The face was more of a lamprey spawn nightmare. Nope. The ring very quickly went back on. Better to read elf poetry names than see drawings of fucking ugly batling whateverthey’recalleds.

The named untwisted itself to show its new official listing: fucking ugly batling whateverthey’recalled. Neat.

You’re not paying me. Actually, I’m paying you, dickhead.

Obviously set itself up for that. Prick.

Here. This one. Six-legged big mouth lizard with lumbering bearing.

Fine, I’ll take the imp. Her exasperation was showing.

A few quick moments of squabbling and the page was pulled then presented to the attendant.

“Look at you going hunting! I’d thought you were an herbalist. Good luck!” The elf woman gave her a radiant smile. She fiddled with something for a moment then returned the listing to the counter. Karen took it and walked out without comment.

The sun had yet to grace the sky, but the light of the moons was more than enough to navigate out into the main road.

Teehee look at me I’m so pretty I thought you only gather carrots teehee. Stupid bitch.

The spirit ignored the insecure ranting.

How do they know all that? Do they have people scooting about and marking down every ugly bat they see? Wouldn’t it be easier for them to kill the bats and cut out the middleman?

Can you not do that ever again?

The rhyming.

A large crag of rock decorated the corner where the river road split off to lead into the village. The words ‘Western Region Wilderness Spatial Gate Village 17’ were carved into the face.

I thought you said these people loved pretty things, and here they are using an ugly boulder as a ‘welcome to our shithole’ sign. Smug fucks.

The village, while itself rustic and utilitarian, was set in an area of incredible natural beauty. The most striking of these natural features were the distant snowcapped peaks, and of these there was only one king. It looked down at its fellows with absolute contempt, totally assured of its dominance. The ‘welcome to our shithole’ sign was that crag’s tiny identical twin, bearing an identical silhouette in the bright light of the double moons.

Of course. I actually hate this place. On a whim she took off the ring. The words reformed into an image of one of the mighty trees that ringed the village. Fucking elves.

Ah, which way is north?

It’s a different planet, how would I know? You don’t have to be a dick about it. The emphatic hand gestures she used for her strictly internal conversation were, in her opinion, as necessary as the words themselves. An outsider might see them as practice for some kind of avant garde puppet show.

Well, there’s no sun now, it hasn’t come up yet.

For the first time in what felt like years, the little bulb pulled into her vision. It took off up the road. Karen followed.