Take & Give

"Please relax, Mr. Newman. The knife isn't for you... though given your tolerance for pain thus far, why would this knife worry you?"

John remained unconvinced. The chamber was still the same size it had been, but suddenly felt unbearably intimate. He contemplated using tunnel... But where would I even go? Unconsciously, he took a step back. "It's quite the knife." He felt less coy than he sounded, and the light of the candles gleamed on its serpentine edges as if appreciating the compliment.

"I just need it to produce a test; nothing more."

"I'm... an awful test-taker."

"Come now, John." His name sounded like nails on a chalkboard coming from her mouth. "I'm a bit more mature than the sort who might stab you for such... propositions. The test doesn't involve any bloodshed on your part, I can almost promise, and the prize is precisely what you seek."

What the Hell does she mean, "almost"?!

"Succeed, and I shall treat it as consideration for your bargain. Fail, and I will be **** to shunt you back to class... and curb whatever you would inflict on your fellow students, in light of my rejection." She shifted the dagger to her left hand, behind the unknown summon's back. "I can't have you fulfilling this 'quest' with the student body, after all; what if you brought even more attention than you already have?"

John eyed the summon's every move; the words Wentworth chose, the unexplained girl or monster or whatever the Hell she was... there were plenty of ways to twist it all into a fight, and not one John was sure he'd be allowed to win. The girl, for her part, seemed utterly docile. "I can be pretty discreet... but I guess it all depends: what's the test?"

"Woa... xaey... navi...?" The voice was meek, and deepened the sense of silence in this place. It took the Gamer a moment to realize it came from the frail lass, who had been all but comatose until now. She now seemed to be coming to, and muttered in a tongue that was foreign, but certainly human. Her sleeves swayed with the thinness of their material, and her body seemed ready to fall back and into Wentworth's arms (or dagger, if she wasn't careful). Unbidden tears rolled down her cheeks, and the closed eyelids of this frail maiden shifted as her eyes rolled. John found himself disarmed as her body shuddered with pathetic sobs, and she repeated those same unknown words twice more.

Wentworth waved a pointing finger over the girl's head in an arch, and the summon's tag vanished; she was, if her status was to be believed, independent now. "There we are... she's now her own woman, free to think and act for herself, free from my power... and from my protections. The test will begin now, Mr. Newman."

The girl turned slightly, attracted to the strange voice. John's eyes grew wide: it was one of the scenarios he imagined, but it made no sense. Why do this to her own summon, especially if this dagger as horrible as it sounded? Why? She's a summon, though, so... she can't be a real human woman, right? I mean, Wentworth wouldn't-

"Heal the wound, Mr. Newman," Wentworth declared, "and I will grant you your favor."

Wentworth grinned, and he saw it: a woman far younger than his well-aged civics teacher, a flicker of a stronger, more imposing witch, of a tempered cruelty... the visage of a beast who knew years as no one should. He realized it then: it wasn't beyond the mysterious mage. It would be preferred. The girl was real. "No-!"

The girl sobbed, "Shenmah-?"

[UNKNOWN] deals 535 corrupting damage to 薩克達氏! 薩克達氏 is now taking 54 corrupting damage per turn (25 rounds remaining).

Wentworth's classroom door was thrown open, and the cavalry charged in, ready to save whatever poor soul had fallen under the unknowable auspices of-

Moira blinked at the empty room, her hand ready at the shield brooch on her jacket. She stood there, dumbfounded and wide-eyed, and swept the room with her gaze and then ducked to check the desks from the corner of the room. The door slowly came to a close behind her as she looked about, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at the teacher's desk. A demonic essence, and a barrier! It can be no coincidence that this witch's room seems to be the center of it all... but how is John's familiar involved...? She took a careful step towards the desk, and the presence of the barrier grew heavier in the strange, sixth sense she inherited. The Golden Rose blessed its Warden with the power to detect a slew of magical essences, but the barrier before her, still invisible, was a strange one: as much as she tried to will herself into it from afar, her reach never hooked into that illusory reality, nor did it as she circled around the desk. It's almost as if the barrier were unbelievably small... but surely, it is here, on this floor alone, so why... no, how could it even hold any person?

Checking the doors and under the tables again, Moira confirmed she would be alone when she finally chose to enter the barrier's influence. She dared to reach over the teacher's desk, and then walked along the blackboard to determine the boundaries. Sure enough: the barrier she detected was thin, thinner than a human could ever be to fit into it. Another mystery, then, about the mysterious witch at the Academy. And if he's working with her... no. He wouldn't betray us, right? Not after we... Moira blushed slightly at the memory of their absurd afternoon, which she absolutely did not enjoy no matter what John claimed and no matter how many cold baths it took to get her to sleep. Of course not. John isn't... he's not that kind of a mage... no, but he is a mage! He swears no fealty, holds only a mere contract of... no, but isn't this unfair? He kept his word to me when I was most... at a disadvantage... oh certainly, Moira, during his ****, Moira! A sexual ****, on me. Me! The Warden of the Golden Rose! My moans and begging for it meant nothing; corrupting influence, a passing curse, nothing more! He's a bastard, through and through! But perhaps... Moira continued to spar with herself, never speaking a word but shaking her fists at every praise and damnation she could lay upon the man.

Staring at her by way of a small, rectangular mirror was a certain Jane Hollmey, whose curiosity, first at the barrier and then at Moira's unexpected presence, left her mostly confounded. She was in her plainclothes now: a standard uniform (with just the right number of rebellious buttons left open), short brown hair, and those dazzling, light-spotted eyes from her alter-ego were now a plain, beautiful blue. 'Course, I didn't think some idiot would open a barrier at school again... it's like the fourth time this week! She had texted Travolta and Jimmy, but the sudden appearance of none other than the Warden of the Golden Rose demanded that Rave come in to see if she couldn't mess with the snooty upperclasswoman. Risking an earnest, one-eyed peek through the window, she shook her head in almost sad recognition of the sight: Moira Brighton, stuck-up snob of the school, holy warrior of the stuck-up snobs back home in the Old Country, was apparently losing her damn mind.

She grinned as the voluptuous redhead shook her fists at the blackboard, a desk, the ceiling tiles, and just about every inanimate object the civics classroom had to offer. An innocent, loose-leaf paper laid quietly on the floor. The mighty paladin kicked it into the air with an angry, incoherent grunt. So... Moi-Moi's finally lost her mind. Sad, really. I wonder if rich people get more visitation hours at the psychiatric ward... I mean, does this make her the Warden of the Golden Ward- oh. Moira's eyes locked onto her. Damn it! Jane's secret identity didn't involve much, a magical hair dye and a small effort in her eyes, but it worked just fine for her everyday life... largely because Moira didn't have any classes with her, and largely because the big redhead was easy enough to spot and evade in the halls. But it wasn't foolproof enough to escape such direct attentions, and with mere feet between them now... Shit, I'll blow my cover! Rave was ready to backpedal carefully, lest she reveal even more of her face, but Moi-Moi was too vigilant by half, and was already upon the door before Rave could get clear. Cursing, she covered her face with one hand as the door handle turned, and while the hall was mostly empty it wasn't near empty enough to risk vanishing into a barrier here and now. Rave stretched her free hand out as the door swung open-

FLASH!!

"Aaaaaaah!" Moira's wide-open eyes, the bold eyes of a hawk seeking prey, were a poor match to the explosion of about a hundred thousand candelas of light in the palm of the snooping student's hand. The last image she saw of the unknown spy, of an outstretched hand and the other held wide to obscure her identity, was burned into the Warden's eyes as her knees nearly buckled from disorientation. The scream and the flash might attract unwanted civilian attention, but Moira could barely think with the stunning pain in her eyes. Her fists flailed, brushing just past the rump of the damned girl who was now dashing into the classroom past her. Her senses as a warrior took over, and she grabbed her shield brooch even as she stumbled back into the room after her attacker, the shield expanding to provide a guard as her hand dug into it for her weapon. Her feet drove her on even as she tried to regain her sight, and her stumbling charge found purchase on the fleeing criminal.

"Shit-" Rave rolled as best she could as the shield tried to pin her to the teacher's desk. The shield moved with her; even without sight, the warrior could feel the weight of her enemy and the direction she aimed for. Doggedly, the shield followed and then violently shoved Collide's best girl towards the student desks, forcing the brown-haired youth to roll, her flipping skirt and indecency be damned, and recover. Moi-Moi was persistent, if nothing else, and the Warden's pinched vision threatened to crack open and get a glimpse of plain Jane before she could get back to Travolta and make a plan for the new barrier. Jane still wasn't sure how, but she could tell the barrier was so compact and dense as to bend space, weird enough for her to want to learn more... but not enough to bargain with the Warden.

Jane was out of options; she either needed to flee into the hall and hope Moira couldn't catch her, or else open a barrier to transform herself and face the Warden. Opening her own barrier this close to another had its risks--it could fail outright, for one--but she didn't have any alternatives left. Cursing, Jane rose and willed her illusion barrier into existence, haphazardly enveloping a chunk of the Academy. Rather than ignore her inferior reality, the mysterious barrier was hit by the illusory space... and settled itself inside.

A brief squirt of blood, and the stray droplets of the girl were still warm when they landed on John's face and neck. He stared at the interruption of the pristine image of a maiden, pretty in green and white, and the dark stain that grew around the twisted inches of the kris as it poked out from under her left breast. The blade withdrew, and was nowhere to be seen once the stranger fell to her knees.

"You've a minute, perhaps."

As if given permission by Wentworth's casual words, the girl screeched a howling, bellowing, mortal terror, giving voice to the twisting agony of her guts, and her hands clutched the hole in her belly that continued to bleed.

"You crazy fucking bitch-!" John rushed at Wentworth, but then hesitated as he glanced between the wry psychopath and her victim... and the ticking health of the latter. Wentworth raised an eyebrow, as if surprised. John clutched his fist in futile rage; even now, he knew there was nothing to do to Wentworth. The girl's screaming ran out the air in her lungs, and her trembling fingers, thought to be covered in blood, came away with naught but gray ash that blackened, and then floated upwards and away on an unseen breeze. The girl fell over, in shock as far as John could tell, and was soon attended by John's healing hand on her arm. The proximity never mattered before; it would work, it had to-

Heal cannot reverse corruption damage. Heal cannot restore health for undead targets.

John's face eased into confusion as he read the message. He stared back down at the girl, whose twitching digits clutched desperately to the wound. Sweat beaded on her skin, her arm was warm to the touch, and her face - so obvious was her life in her twisted features - was a mask of the living, breathing agony of the dying. She managed another pitiful wail, and John shook his head as if to dismiss the message. Another heal, this time by pressing against her abdomen over the wound.

Heal cannot function on corruption damage. Heal cannot function on undead targets.

"Damn it!" John coughed, furious as he pressed. The flesh underneath his touch suddenly caved, and a crunching, crumbling noise vibrated into his fingertips. A new wave of horror washed over him, and he felt as guilty of hurting her as the woman who looked over the scene.

Wentworth watched with silent dispassion.

"Fuck!"

"Language."

"Fuck you!" He bared gritting teeth at the mage, so beyond his reach, and so merciless a conductor of some innocent girl's painful ****. Undead... how is this girl undead? She's warm, she's crying... she's... She was going to perish, and John pulled his list to try and find something, anything, that could help.

Restore! Of course, I- I mean, I've never used it... and what if I don't-? The girl's pained moaning turned into a gurgling mess, and a mixture of blood and black lumps of filth spat up from her mouth and onto the gray stones beneath her face. Fuck, I don't have time for this!

John began to charge the spell, trying to estimate how long he had to apply it, how much power a few rounds, a few dozen seconds, might cost the girl. He emptied his mana bar - damn him for not just wearing his circlet the moment he stepped into this **** trap! - and focused it into his left hand, staring into it as it was awash in an aura of sparkling azure. The color fluctuated to indigo, then to navy, and back through a flickering cycle of blue radiances, and a dozen seconds more, of charging the spell, of hoping it would work, passed as the girl's breaths stalled, cracked unnaturally-

... and then stopped.

No! John hand shot towards the girl's back.

Wentworth bit her lip as she held her breath.

The girl's eyes rolled into the back of her head.

His hand slammed clumsily against her back, caving in her torso... and then injecting that blue energy into her with a surging radiance that overwrote her body and turned her, briefly, into a silhouette of perfect blue.

CRIT! Your Restore healed 薩克達氏 for 2,733, healing her to full! Your Restore removed the consuming corruption status from 薩克達氏! Your Restore failed to reverse the 殭屍 status of 薩克達氏. Your Restore failed to resurrect 薩克達氏.

Achievement unlocked! "You've Got the Touch"!
Heal a target for 1,000 or more health. You've got the power! Yeah!
+5WIS
+100MP

Wentworth's heart stirred for the first time in centuries... and she bit her lower lip as she watched.

John couldn't notice her, or the room, as he looked at the new pop-up. What... does that mean? The ambiguity of it would have sunk his heart, if not for the young woman's blinking, wide-open eyes. She stared up at him. She inhaled sharply, as if to scream... and then exhaled slowly through her nose. Her brow furrowed, as if terrified. She looked down, and then back up at John. He followed her gaze.

He was sprawled on top of her, half-hugging, half-mounting her body in his desperation, and his face was mere inches from hers.

A rosy glow warmed her cheeks as she inhaled again... and her eyes rolled to the back of her head before she could scream anew, fainting dead away.

薩克達氏(孝德溫惠誠順慈莊恪慎徽懿恭天贊聖顯皇后)
Level 16 殭屍
HP: 1,003/1,003 (CAPTURABLE)
MP: 504/504
Relationship: 0
元妃的伊竹爱信( 顯皇帝 ) 。一個牧師將邪惡的精神放在她身上，直到她在她的母親的命令死亡，以防止她的婚姻。她回來了一個殭屍，但永遠不會報復。
Status Effects: 殭屍穩定性 (91%), Fainted (20 rounds remaining)

A soft, rapid clap followed John's performance. With the slow disbelief of a survivor, the Gamer turned to regard the source: the gently smiling civics teacher who breathed into her spectacles before rubbing them with a handkerchief. "A sufficient and succinct performance, Mr. Newman... for now."

"You... You almost killed her-!"

"She's hardly alive enough to be killed."

"She-!" John paused, and looked back at the girl. His interface had claimed the same thing... twice, now that he reviewed them out of the corner of his eye. Warm, breathing... undead? Those broke the rules most video games had taught him... but then, so did fluffy succubi and genocidal elves. "... What is she?"

"She's a jiangshi: a form of undead, to put it in the simplest of terms."

John looked up to his instructor. "But why iiiiis..." He stared, long and hard, at the suddenly quite naked, suddenly young, suddenly gorgeous teacher. Her skin was a healthier shade and smooth wherever his eyes found her, her hands were clenched together over her trimmed pubic mound, and the pose did wonders for D-cup breasts which seemed to move fluidly as she shifted about for his visual feast, though the word "sag" could never be applied. Her nipples, fat and welcoming, were hardened and could cast shadows even by this candlelight. He shook his head as if to deny the growing erection in his pants. How... Who the Hell... is this crazy bitch?

"I made a deal with you, Mr. Newman... and suffice it to say we'll need to work quickly, if we're going to avoid any... complications." Her eyes flicked towards the nearest wall, and John followed her gaze to nothing that he could see.

"Gyaaaah!" Moira crushed the last standing bit of a student's desk underneath her warhammer with an earnest attack Rave only barely managed to dodge. The rubble was pushed mostly to the walls of the class from every moment that Rave had attempted to create an escape; Moira had a throwing arm oddly adept at tossing steel-legged desks and chairs at doors and windows whenever Rave thought to use them, and had thus far been good about avoiding another flash bomb to the eyes. Rave, meanwhile, had been less fortunate: her school uniform had plenty of tears from barely avoiding Moira's ****, and had apparently frustrated the Warden enough to warrant lethal ****.

Moira panted her exhaustion away, and let the power of the Rose rejuvenate her. "By the... power of..." She gasped as she felt her reserves running low. Even without wearing her armor, she had spent so much energy chasing after Rave for almost three straight minutes, and the occasional blast of light to her body had left inexplicable burn marks all over her uniform. If not for the spare uniform in her bag, Moira might've worried about having to explain them to the Academy.

"Fuck... Moi-Moi... c'mon... I haven't even had... lunch..."

"You can... not... escape me, criminal scum! I... will... finally catch you...!"

Rave wiped a bit of spittle from her face as she tried to shrug the pain off of her shoulders. It only hurt her a bit more, as the muscle remained bruised from an errant table leg. As the fight raged, the unexpected company they had was gnawing on Rave's attention: the mysterious barrier that found itself inside her own. That was supposed to be impossible... at least, unless another mage worked the barrier so well that it could casually slip into others. The list of possible casters who made it grew shorter with that single feat. The barrier was no longer invisible to the naked eye: it stood as a thin, physical black line, now standing over the debris of what used to be the illusory copy of the teacher's desk. At just over six feet in height and seemingly millimeters thick, it provided a mystery that neither fighter could really probe or contemplate during their chase, but both knew better than to risk bringing the fight close to it.

What was clear was that the massive barrier Jane thought she detected was this thin black pillar. But how? Condensing or expanding barrier space without changing the barrier itself was work even Jimmie couldn't pull, or at least not cheaply. Certainly not that thin... only now did it seem to grow a bit. Wait... what...? Rave shook her head and blinked while looking past Moira. "What the... Hell is that?"

No... the barrier wasn't growing. Something was growing out of it. The enlarging mass continued to spread out from the sliver of reality... and took the consistency and color of blueberry-flavored GEEL-O. Moira afforded a single, **** laugh.

Rave's eyes just continued to grow, as did the new intruder.

The slime, because it could be nothing else, split into two once it finished squeezing into their barrier from the mysterious one, oozing into neatly divided piles just behind Moira. From them, two vaguely humanoid forms rose and began to take on muscular, masculine qualities... including knobly, massive, and almost accusingly-pointing cocks of blue gel, each aimed at the paladin. "Did you... truly believe... a Warden of the Golden Rose would... fall for so obvious... a ploy?"

Rave shook her head with a nervous smile.