Ambrose brushed off her rump as she stepped from the carriage and into the street, happy that the several hour long ride was over. She stood in front of the chapel of the church of Guidance in Grimwater's Keep, facing the beautiful porch steps up into the building. Her soft, white hair fluffed out as she combed her finger through it. The chapel was a tall, simple building, embellished with marble stairs and stained glass windows to make it seem much more fancy than it was. Outside of the chapel, a pair of guards stood in ornate plate armor celebrating the gods of Guidance, the Aeons of benevolence. The armored defenders of the church looked deeply imposing, their glimmering chest plates and helms radiant both with the light of the sun and the glow of strong magical enhancement.

  As the other men and women departed the two carriages, Ambrose wondered just who all was being awakened to their class today. She knew very well that she was not special with regards to her birthday. There were hundreds of thousands of people in the kingdom. It was impossible for her not to share her day with some of them. Yet as she looked, the only human she saw with her who qualified was the same rude, ruddy haired boy she’d ridden into the city with. The elves from the other carriage both seemed decently mature. But maybe that was just the point, and they were also reaching their majority today.

  Rather than dwell on it, she headed toward the door ahead of the others. The guards made no attempt to stop her as she took the steps up toward the entrance, so she moved past and pushed on one of the big double doors into the chapel and found herself stepping into a world of lavish decoration. Thick carpets lined the floors and layered, cushioned pews lined the hall leading to the raised dais and stage upon which Gloin, the great Aeon of fire and Guide to humanity sat, overlooking the rest of the church in his divine glory, his wide phoenix wings spread to cover the stage as light rained on him from the skylight above. The firebird had been the symbol of humanity and the church in human cities for so long, that Ambrose was not surprised by the reverence they gave the great beast, even if it had no human characteristics at all.

  On that stage, at the foot of the statue sat a pedestal elevating a great, dark orb. Several acolytes were tending the orb while one of the ministers spoke off to the side to yet another acolyte. One was taking a cloth to the artifact, polishing it reverently, while the other young woman dusted the pedestal, which already seemed to be pristine. The entire scene seemed lavish and was obviously there to embellish the glory of not only the church, but this ceremony. The more importance they put behind this coming of age, the more powerful the church would be.

  “Such a pretty place,” purred one of the elves, a tall, slender woman with auburn hair and tanned skin. Her youthful beauty was enhanced by the gaudy regality of their surroundings, the red of the carpet and cushions only making her skin seem more warm and radiant. Her heritage was likely steeped in wood and blood, and Ambrose couldn’t help but wonder just how far into the forest the carriages had gone to retrieve the woman.

  “It’s passable,” said the male, an equally slender person with long blond hair and light, fair skin. The soft twinkle behind his pretty blue eyes denoted a noble lineage of his own.

  “Welcome! Welcome!” the man who Ambrose had thought of as a minister called, gesturing for everyone to come forward. The group as a whole moved, and as they did, Ambrose took notice of some people who hadn’t actually caught her eye until they got closer. To the left of the statue, standing in the shadow and partially concealed, was a man of dark elven heritage. His silver-white hair was done up into a light braid that curled over his shoulder. Soft, brown eyes examined the group with a level of discernment that made Ambrose a little uncomfortable. Like most elves, he was slender and elegant in his build. But the slender, single edged blade at his hip made it hard to mistake him for anything less than dangerous.

  On the opposite side, dressed in plates of shimmering silver and gold stood a tall, mighty looking woman with fiery red hair. Her hand remained settled on the pommel of a two handed sword she was resting on the floor before her. Her stance was wide and relaxed. She looked the very picture image of some holy knight from stories about defeating demon kings and saving foreign lands.

  The acolytes scattered as the group approached the minister, heading off to tend their other duties and leaving the group of four to stand before the minister, who gave them all a wisened smile. “I assume each of you is well aware why you’re here?” he asked, his smile not diminishing even a little as each of them nodded. “Good. Very good. The blessing of Guidance has allowed our kingdom and nations to flourish under even the most dire of circumstances. This blessing is strength, given through benevolence to we, the weak. Cherish these gifts you receive here today and nurture them, that we may continue to walk free in the light.”

  His words felt potent, touching in a way that inspired the soul to heights of goodness and purity. Ambrose couldn't help but feel like the man was looking out for them in the best way he knew how when he spoke, even if the church around him felt like some kind of a scam.

  “Now, who will be the first to receive the blessing of Guidance?” He asked, smiling and gesturing toward the orb. Both of the elves glanced at one another, as though trying to be polite, but the ruddy haired boy held no compunction. He stepped forward and without prompting, placed a shaky hand onto the orb on the pedestal. The orb, bigger than a human head, glowed brightly beneath his palm for a second before returning a steady, red light that pulsed once, twice, thrice, six times before beginning to slowly dim.

  The man gave the boy a bemused smirk before giving a respectful bow. “Henric. Congratulations on your awakening as an A Rank Ruthless warrior,” the man said with grace.

  The boy, who Ambrose now knew to be Henric, seemed a little disappointed with his rank of A, though he cheered up quickly, balling his fist and smiling wide. “I can feel my new strength!”

  “As you should. If you will step to the side, I'm sure one of my guests would like to speak with you,” the Minister said, gesturing off to the side, toward the warrior in shimmering armor.

  The boy almost skipped off to the side, leaving the three remaining unawakened to their business.

  The male elf went next, stepping forward and tentatively placing his long, slender fingers onto the orb before resting his palm on it. It shone a bright, misty blue, pulsing powerfully once, twice, thrice, four times before it dimmed. The male frowned, but nodded.

  “Aeloren Hindiel. Congratulations on your awakening as a C Rank, Healer,” the man said, giving a gentle nod to the elf, who sighed and then stepped aside.

  For the first time since they had been in proximity to one another the elf female acknowledged Ambrose, seemingly not knowing who should go first. Ambrose thought little of it. She’d tap the thing and get her D Rank class and go home to start making plans. Gesturing ahead of them to the orb, Ambrose just smiled. “You go ahead.”

  The elf woman’s awakening was much as the others had been, with five pulses, rather than the four of the other elf, showing her to be a B rank sharpshooter. Which Ambrose supposed was some form of archer. The young elf woman seemed quite happy with her results, and when she stepped off to the side to speak with the other elf, Ambrose imagined the two of them would get along quite well as life moved forward for them.

  The minister waved her on up, seeming to think she was nervous about the process. She wandered up to the orb, looking at the object, rather than just slapping her hand onto the thing. It was a large, perfect sphere, dark on the inside with little twinkling motes of starlight. The orb was beautiful and for a second, Ambrose felt like she wanted to get lost in the thing. But rather than do that and keep everyone waiting, she reached out with her hand.

  Her fingers brushed the glass of the orb, and then some sort of force magnetized her palm to the object, making her gasp. The orb shone with a dazzling blinding, iridescent brightness and then began to pulse, each pulse of light flowing through Ambrose and the other people in the room like a heartbeat as power surged into her body.

  One. The Minister stepped back, his eyes wide as he shielded his face.

  Two. the elven awakened staggered away with the force of the pulse.

  Three. The warrior and Henric both faced and leaned into the pulse to keep their footing.

  Four. The minister was forced to his knees.

  Five. The elves knelt under a mounting pressure they didn’t, couldn’t understand

  Six. The new A rank warrior took a knee to resist being blown back.

  Seven. The man hiding in the shadows was forced back by the ferocity of the pulsing light.

  Eight. The raw magic blew everyone else on the stage onto their backs surging so fiercely that there was a tremulous roar throughout the chapel.

  The orb thrummed with power, even as Ambrose was finally able to remove her hand from the thing. Her entire body tingled with the surging strength. Her thoughts seemed clearer, as did her senses. She felt light, as though her clothing and pack weighed nothing, and gravity’s hold on her was somewhat less. Yet even knowing all of that, she couldn’t focus on any of it, because hovering before her, in her vision, was a piece of parchment she knew no one else could see. They would be able to see some of the most general information on this parchment, but without her intent, they would never know all of the secrets it held.

  Ambrose Di

  Class : Mystic Bestiary

  Rank : M

  Race (current) : Human

  Level : 1

  Adaptive Might : 10

  Adaptive Virility : 15

  Adaptive Nimbleness : 12

  Adaptive Comprehension : 15

  Adaptive Discernment : 16

  Adaptive Potency : 18

  Class Abilities: Bestiary of Forms

  Bestiary of Forms:

  Bestiary may freely shift between a number of forms dictated by their level.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Forms Chosen [0/2]

  New Forms Available. Please choose a new form.

  Racial Abilities: None

  Skills: None

  Ambrose stared at her personal ability sheet in awe even as her body adapted to its increase in power. She was going to try to find out what forms were available when the minister shouted. “An M Rank Class!” he called out, rolling onto his hands and knees and bowing. Something about that made Ambrose powerfully uncomfortable. “Ambrose Di has awakened an M rank class!”

  Ambrose wasn’t sure where the last name Di had come from, but she wasn’t going to deny herself a surname if Guidance had chosen to give it to her. Shrugging, she stepped away from the orb, watching the other people on the stage recover. She was stunned and trying to recover as well, if she was honest.

  The first person to her feet was the armored warrior, standing and moving her fiery hair away from her face as she regarded Ambrose with new caution and piercing focus. “Bestiary?” She asked, frowning as she spoke for the first time since Ambrose had noticed her presence. Her voice was deep for a human woman and a little ragged from years of shouting, it seemed. “Some kind of druid?”

  Ambrose shrugged, not having had a chance to even look at her ability. “ Maybe?” she said, her eyes now locking onto the knight to see that she had been dealing with someone far more terrifying than she had originally guessed. Floating in a tag in Ambrose’s vision, just next to the woman’s head, was a name, class, and rank. Lyssandrea Guflrig, Wild Scion of Light, S.

  They just had S Rank warriors sitting around in chapels, apparently. Turning her head to the shadowstalker, she found that he was almost equally impressive with his A rank. Both of these people had just been standing about for this ceremony. There was no way they had predicted something like this would happen, had they?

  Yet nothing else made sense. There was no reason to have rare S and A rank attendees at a ceremony that happened literally every single day of the year in multiple locations. It made even less sense to have such critical and powerful people waiting in some keep on the coast of the kingdom for no reason. So perhaps they had known well ahead of time to expect something here? Ambrose just couldn't think of how.

  Ambrose felt wariness building up in her chest as her mind evaluated the possibilities. She felt like she should be beyond cautious of these people. She stepped away, suddenly feeling very crowded in. The number of available exits for her was woefully small and she needed to reach one posthaste and get away from the people whom she was becoming increasingly convinced were there to subdue and take her away. “Uh… thanks for the… uh… The awakening, but if it’s done, I think I should return home. Lots to do. Lots of help around the village, hehe.” She said, trailing off into an awkward laugh as her normally brilliant mind failed to pull anything witty to the fore of her thoughts.

  Before she’d made it another step, the knight was in front of her, Glimmering armor barring her path. “I think you should stay. We have some important matters to discuss, you and I. Possibly Henric,” she said, looking down at Ambrose with discerning eyes.

  Ambrose paused and tried to step to the side, only to find that the terrifying woman in front of her matched her movement and remained in her path. “I’d… really just prefer to walk home,” she said, looking at the plate in front of her as though hoping she could somehow phase through the woman if she thought hard enough. She was beginning to feel more and more cornered, more desperate to be out and free. It was so hard to think.

  “I’d be neglecting my duty if I let that happen,” the taller woman insisted, putting a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder. With a swift movement, she turned Ambrose about until she was facing the stunned faces of the boy, Henric, and both slack-jawed elves. Ambrose had no idea what to do. She hadn’t wanted to turn around, had tried to plant her feet, but the unyielding force of the larger, older woman had simply uprooted her.

  It became obvious to her that she could not simply bowl past the Scion. She tried to think of some alternative, some law to protect the citizens from awakened, or some law that stated she needed to be sent home or provided rest. Yet nothing came to mind. Instead she found herself being manhandled into place by the Scion's side.

  She felt desperate for something to help her leave, to help her escape this attention, this scrutiny. Class, you got me into this, you better damn get me out of it, she thought, mentally moving into her own menu in search of help. Her raw stats would do her no good against some high level S rank woman. But maybe, just maybe one of the new forms would.

  New forms available! Would you like to choose a new form? A pop-up asked, the note shimmering in her vision as Lyssandrea began walking her over to Henric

  Ambrose mentally urged an affirmation toward the note.

  Options For New Forms:

  Please let there be a teleporting mouse or something? Ambrose asked before her eyes could even scan over the sheet, yet when she got to the sheet itself, she was… thrilled and horrified. There were no teleporting mice on that list. Nor any other wild monster form she could simply use to evaporate and flee. Instead, in a neat little list of five, there were the names of demi human races.

  Catfolk

  Lambda

  Holstaurus

  Goblin

  Merfolk

  All her life, Ambrose had wanted to be just like the people raising her, the people who had cared for and fed her and gotten her back on her feet. Now some mystic class was going to do that for her?! If she hadn’t been in her current position, she would have jumped for joy, completely in love with her class. Yet the circumstances didn’t currently allow that to happen. Instead, Ambrose found herself eagerly seeking a solution with one of these forms.

  She barely felt herself stop in front of Henric, who was staring at her, mystified. She even missed the conversation going on between the Knight and the minister because she needed out of here and she needed it now.

  A goblin would be small, but nowhere near nimble enough to escape, and the size would make the doors at the front and issue… Ambrose logicked out going through her possible abilities. A Holstaurus would be bigger, stronger, but not near strong enough to overpower this woman. A merfolk? That’s a no… Not nearly enough water and no time to use magic to make it.

  That conclusion left her with two options, the lambda and the catfolk. Lambda were normally seen as non-threatening and lacking in power, but the right lambda in a wrong mood could bowl over an Ursae and leave them with cracked bones. They had a hearty constitution, able to survive on most anything, and they were stalwart enough to shake off and absorb heavy blows. If things came down to a fight, that would likely be her best bet.

  On the other hand, catfolk were built for an escape job. Slender, graceful, elegant, flexible and fast. Their senses and sense of balance were impeccable. Their only major drawbacks were that they lacked superior strength and fortitude. A solid hit from a powerful enemy would do a lot more to them than it would a sturdier option. Rather than dwell on things more, Ambrose selected the catfolk form and waited a second, almost expecting to become one immediately. Yet a moment later, she noticed that the menu was not going away. And then she noticed that the selection menu had a glowing [1/2] in the corner, likely signifying that she had only picked one of the two forms it expected her to. With no more time and the two powerful people in the church talking specifically about her, Ambrose quickly picked Lambda as her second option, rationalizing that the Lambda form could at least get her home and out of the city.

  With both selections made, the menu dropped away, leaving two forms for her to look at under the Bestiary of Forms ability on her sheet. She willed the new “Catgirl” form to activate and all hell broke loose.

  —

  Lyssandrea was ecstatic. An M rank awakening this far out in the backwaters of the kingdom was completely unexpected. Normally she would never leave the Royal College to venture out here and stand around in some stupid small chapter of the grand Church. She was far too important for that. The only reason she was here is because she and the Academy had received a Prophecy from one of the Oracle classed women in the high echelons of the kingdom that a hero would awaken on this day and needed guidance back into the hands of the kingdom.

  At first, Lyssandrea assumed the hero was Henric. A rank heroes had surprised the world before. He could still be the hero, which was why she wasn't completely disregarding him for Ambrose. But Ambrose explained her presence here far more than some A rank who would willingly come with her to the capital. No, she could feel the tension in Ambrose's body. She could tell this girl had no desire to go anywhere but back to that little Village of Demi-humans they'd plucked her from on short notice. She felt raw certainty that an M rank had no choice but to impose large changes on the world, and she was beyond eager to help this girl bring those changes. It would bring honor, fortune and fame to her own name to have found this girl.

  Lyssandrea squeezed the shoulder of the smaller woman to try and comfort her. Or… she tried to. Suddenly her hand was empty. The girl she had been firmly holding in place was no longer there. In her place was a short, feline demi-human with pretty white hair that came down over her eyes in wild, fluffy bangs. Atop her head, two adorable, flicking white ears moved about, scanning her surroundings while a long, white tail wiggled behind her. She had the same beauty mark next to her big, puffy lips as Ambrose had, and another down on the inner slope of her exposed, modest cleavage.

  The chaste clothing that Ambrose had been wearing was gone. No dress with a jacket to cover her shoulders and an under-blouse to gird and hide her respectable bust. Even her boots and the satchel she had been moving around with had disappeared. Instead, the girl next to her was wreathed in thin, black silks that clung to a tight, slender, athletic curvature. The body beside her was built for graceful, fluid movement under all conditions and the clothes would keep out of the way. The thighs of the demi-human transitioned into the furred digitigrade legs one would expect from catfolk and Lyssandrea could only theorize that her hands hid their same wickedly sharp claws.

  Before the Scion’s mind could catch up with what was happening, the girl moved, slipping back and off of the stage in a flawless, silent back tumble. Lyssandrea tried to swipe for her, to grab the retreating girl, but Ambrose was suddenly far faster than the Scion of Light expected. Brett, the shadowstalker, was the first to pursue, his enhanced agility giving him a massive lead on movement just because of the nature of the stat and how focused on it his class was. Yet even as he surged into motion, the feline woman seemed almost a match for him in her movement. She shifted with unnatural grace as he lunged for her, swirling out of his path and then hopping onto the back of one of the pews and beginning to make an escape atop the footholds while he recovered.

  Lyssandrea burst into motion refusing to allow the girl to escape. The stone of the stage beneath her greaves cracked as she leapt after the fleeing feline. With a maneuver like this to aid in her own speed using her might, she cut the distance between the feline girl and herself in an instant. She swiped at the catgirl, only for her to duck and crouch low to the pew just before Lyssandrea could put fingers on her. Lyssandra rocketted past and toward the wall of the building. Yet rather than slamming into and through the wall her body melted into liquid light, splashing off of the stones that made the building and then reforming into herself with a sigh. Her skills as a Scion of the Light were invaluable, even in a situation like this.

  Yet the cat girl, even pressed by two much more developed adventurers, was holding her own as she dropped out of the way of a thrown dagger from the drow and then rolled beneath him while he tried to tackle her. Her body slipped and wove with maddening ease, dodging away from the man who was certainly at a disadvantage of his own against her. He was trying to catch her, not harm her, as was Lyssandrea. Neither of them truly wanted to harm the creature that was even at that moment solely focused on escaping them.

  Lyssandrea headed off this cat girl Ambrose to the double doors, placing herself in front of them as the feline darted about to escape the pursuing Drow. Even with her super speed, there was no way the girl could hope to outlast both of them and escape with the exit barred. Her capture was inevitable.

  Yet even as she came to that conclusion, the white cat darted at her with blinding speed, leaping into the air with her leg pulled back for a kick. Lyssandrea’s eyes went wide for a moment and she put up an arm to block, not having expected the attack, yet no impact came, the girl twisting midair into a drop to the ground before rotating her leg into a powerful sweep.

  Normally Lyssandrea would have planted her feet and resisted, but with the sheer momentum at play she found herself off of her feet and plummeting to the floor. She caught herself with a hand, but she was too late as the cat dove over her and yanked open the door, slipping out and pulling it shut behind her with a bang.

  In the mere moment it took her to right herself and turn to fling open the doors, the cat had disappeared into the foot traffic of the city. Desperate, fiery fury surged in the Scion's chest as she drew breath. She would not lose the first M rank to be born to the kingdom in decades. “Sound the alarm!” she bellowed. “No woman bearing white hair will leave the city on this day! So commands your King!!!”

  The guards in the street sprang into motion. In seconds, the alarm was being sounded, horns being sounded across the keep and the gates into the hold being closed and locked. Lyssandrea scowled as she scanned the streets one last time before turning to look at Brett. “Ready yourself and a group of trackers. She must be found.”