It was that last smell that hit Kary the hardest.
"Milady..." Timmy froze before the entrance, leaning heavily on the Dragon Slayer. The sword seemed to have taken root in the cobbles, and the page himself was swaying with exhaustion. "This place... it reeks of vice. I can feel the very atmosphere soaked in treachery and cheap bitter. Are you certain you wish to enter? Your dress... it is far too clean for this den of iniquity!"
Kary adjusted her corset. After her marathon through the slums and the scrap with the hobbits, that posh restaurant lunch was a distant memory. Now her stomach was practically stuck to her spine, screaming for calories, and her legs were buzzing like high-voltage wires. The black velvet of the 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown fit perfectly, but Kary felt less like a femme fatale and more like a squeezed lemon in fancy packaging.
"Timmy, cleanliness is a state of mind," she noted philosophically, swallowing hard at another waft of roast pork. "And vice is just content. We need a recruiter. And I hope to god they have a menu. If this recruiter is sitting in hell, we’re going down to hell. As long as they’re serving food."
Kary gave the heavy door a shove. It didn't budge. She hadn't even got the strength for that. "Timmy, the door!" she commanded in a weak voice.
"At once, my Sovereign!"
The lad, grunting and turning purple with the effort, threw his shoulder against the wood. The door yielded with a groan, releasing a cloud of grey smoke.
Inside was a world of shadows. The hall was lit only by a few oil lamps hanging from a soot-covered ceiling and the glowing embers of a massive fireplace, where a carcass suspiciously resembling a whole pig (or a very well-fed orc) rotated slowly on a spit. Fat hissed as it dripped onto the coals, making Kary’s head swim.
Seated at rough-hewn tables were individuals whose mugs would have been right at home on a 'Wanted by the Inquisition' poster: scars, eyepatches, daggers slammed into tabletops—the full set of clichés. The moment Kary stepped over the threshold, the chatter died. Dozens of eyes—yellow, red, or just plain bloodshot—fixed on her. On the plunging neckline. On the high slit. And on the small, breathless page lugging a gargantuan sword.
[Chat_Bot] [Hungry_Eyes]: Kary, you’re pale as death. You need a proper meal. [Simp_King]: Look at them gawping! I’ll gouge their eyes out! No one looks at my Queen like that! [Food_Blog]: That hog looks lush. Kary, nick a crackling!
Reading the message about the hog, Kary nearly whimpered.
"Stuff it," she whispered. "I’m a hungry and cross woman. Tremble before me."
She marched toward the bar, trying to mind her posture even though she wanted to face-plant into a plate of mash. Dronny flew slightly to the side, capturing her determined but haggard profile. The bartender, a bald bruiser with a dragon tattoo on his scalp, was wiping a mug with a rag that looked filthier than a slum floor.
"What'll it be, doll?" he boomed without looking up. "We’re out of milk."
"I’m looking for Crooked Mark," Kary declared loudly, leaning her elbows on the bar to keep from toppling over. "And food. Lots of food. On tick."
The bartender froze. He slowly raised his eyes, raked them over the girl, snorted, and shook his head.
"We don't do credit. And Mark... he’s over there. Corner table by the wall. Just mind you don't get cut. Mark's not in the mood today."
"Cheers. Timmy, follow me! And don't drop that sword on that ogre's foot; he looks edible... I mean, touchy."
They headed for the indicated corner. Kary had expected to see anyone: a one-eyed pirate, a broody elven assassin, or at the very least, that same goblin in the tricorne. But sitting at the table was... a slip of a girl. Small, plump, barely five feet tall. She had doll-like blonde curls, big blue eyes, and cheeks you just wanted to pinch.
But the most horrific part wasn't her appearance. It was what she was doing. The girl was enthusiastically tucking into a massive, multi-layered sponge cake topped with cream and berries. She slowly licked whipped cream off her fingers, eyes closed in bliss.
Kary’s stomach let out a sound like a dying dragon’s growl.
Name: Marka (Crooked Mark) Class: Master of Shadows / Recruiter Level: ??? Status: Sweet-toothed
"Erm..." Kary stopped, baffled by the scent of vanilla. "Hello? I’m looking for Crooked Mark."
The girl looked up with massive, innocent eyes and smiled so sweetly it almost gave Kary a toothache out of spite.
"Hello there!" she chirped in a voice like a Disney princess. "That’s me. Marka. But everyone calls me Mark. Mostly because the people who call me 'sweet little girl' tend to have their bones knit back together rather crookedly. Tee-hee!"
She giggled, and for a split second, her face shifted. Her eyes went glassy and cold, like a shark sensing blood. A heavy gaze pinned the Level 10 Destroyer to the floor, sending a distinct chill down her spine. Then—back came the lovely smile and another piece of sponge went into her mouth.
"Take a pew, babes!" Marka patted the bench beside her. "Business? Or are you just here to treat me to a slice of cake?"
"I haven't got any cake," Kary admitted honestly, sitting opposite and hypnotising the plate. "I haven't got anything at all. First the hobbits robbed me, then a bloke in latex saved me and nicked all my cash. I haven't eaten since lunch, and I’ve burned enough calories for three marathons."
"Oh, The Shadow?" Marka licked her spoon with such relish that Kary had to grip the edge of the table. "He’s such a dear. And so greedy. Proper pro." She shifted her gaze to Timmy, who was standing like a statue behind his mistress, also swallowing hard. "And who’s this? Your pet? How cute! Oi, lad, want a sweetie?"
"I am not a pet!" Timmy protested, trying to strike a proud pose even as the sword dragged him toward the earth and his stomach sang a duet with his mistress’s. "I am a loyal squire, a knight of the spirit and... yes, I wouldn't say no to a sweetie if it saves me from a hunger-induced faint!"
"Yep, definitely a pet," Marka concluded, but she didn't offer a sweet.
"I want to join the Guild," Kary said, wrenching her eyes away from the dessert and getting down to business. "I need to find that bloke. And I need to earn some food money. Fast. And I want to learn how to kill in style."
Marka set aside the cake (praise the gods, the torture was over). Her expression turned businesslike. A stack of parchments and a quill appeared out of thin air.
"The Guild, eh..." she mused. "You’ve got a striking look. A bit too much... er... drama. An assassin should be invisible." She looked pointedly at Kary’s tired face, her hollow cheeks, and the feverish glint in her eyes. "Mind you... a hungry assassin is an angry assassin. That’s good motivation. Fill in the form."
Kary took the quill with a trembling hand.
"Name, class, experience... have you killed before?" she muttered, reading the questions. "Well, I almost killed an Ogre. And right now I’m ready to kill for a sandwich. Does that count?"
"Write 'highly motivated toward violence'," Marka suggested.
Kary leaned over the table, carefully etching the letters. Dronny, sensing the moment, dived lower. The bird’s-eye view offered a dizzying look at her neckline, where stirring curves were hidden in the shadows of the chains, heaving with frequent, hungry breaths.
[Chat_Bot] [Paperwork_Fan]: I’ve never liked bureaucracy. Until this moment. [Feed_Her]: Someone donate for a pizza! My heart is breaking! [Boob_Physics]: Gravity and hunger are working for us, lads!
"Right, done!" Kary signed with a flourish, nearly piercing the parchment, and blew a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "When do I get an advance? I’m buying that whole pig."
Marka took the sheet and scanned it.
"Not so fast, sugar. There’s a catch." She jabbed a finger at the fine print at the bottom of the page. "Clause 14. 'Membership Fees'. The Guild withholds 50% of all loot obtained on assignments. And 30% of anything you find in your off-hours. Brand tax, you see."
"WHAT?!" Kary jumped up so fast the chair screeched. Hunger had given her a temper. "Fifty per cent?! Who do you think you are, the HMRC?! That’s daylight robbery! I’m working for food and you’re taking half my dinner?!"
"That’s business, babe." Marka’s voice turned icy again; her pupils constricted. "We provide protection, contracts, and access to the assassin auction. You cough up half. Or you can bugger off... back to the hobbits and eat rats."
Kary gasped with indignation.
"Timmy! Tell her! This is... exploitation of the famine-stricken!"
"Milady!" Timmy stepped forward, his eyes flashing with anger (while he wobbled from weakness). "This is outrageous! A Queen does not pay tribute! She should be paid for gracing this world with her presence!" He looked at Marka. "Madam, you have no heart! You eat cake in the face of starving aristocracy!"
Marka simply gave a sweet smile and pulled a dagger from her pocket. She began to pick under her fingernails, the steel glinting hungrily.
"Lad, another word and I’ll give you a new smile. Ear to ear. And you won't get any cake."
"Not a peep!" Timmy squeaked, hiding behind Kary’s back. "I’ve registered my protest! In writing! In my stomach!"
Kary gave a heavy sigh. She was skint. The Assassin was gone. Gareth had buggered off to think. Her belly gave a demanding rumble, reminding her who was in charge. There was no choice left.
"Fine," she spat. "I agree. But mark my words, Marka—if I find a way to dodge the taxes, I will."
[System Message: You have joined the 'Black Hand' Guild (Rank: Novice)] [Loot Penalty: 50% Activated] [Achievement Unlocked: 'Waged Labourer']
"Welcome to the family!" Marka beamed, tucking the form away. "Now then..."
At that moment, the tavern door opened again, and the chime of the bell was drowned out by a sudden silence. She walked in. The Stranger. The Kuniochi. The Assassin's companion.
She moved silently, like a shadow detaching itself from the wall. She wore that same revealing but terrifyingly functional outfit: the black bustier-top revealing steel-hard, sculpted abs—not a scrap of fat, not a hint of fatigue or hunger. A complex system of straps on her thighs highlighted powerful, trained legs. No weakness. Only muscle, speed, and lethal intent. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, a mask concealing the lower half of her face, leaving only cold, indifferent eyes exposed.
Kary tensed. She instinctively straightened up, trying not to sway, and struck her "Femme Fatale who isn't at all hungry" pose.
"Timmy, the sword!" she hissed through parched lips. "Give me the sword! I need to look dangerous!"
Timmy frantically tried to hand over the hilt, but his hands were shaking from hunger; he got tangled in the belt and nearly dropped the iron slab onto the table.
"One second, milady! It’s heavier than usual!"
The Kunoichi walked right past their table. Kary bored her eyes into her rival, ready for a scrap. She’d already prepared a few biting remarks about "flat as a pancake" and "zero fashion sense." She expected her enemy to stop, look at her with a challenge, and recognise the girl she’d punched in the forest.
But the Kunoichi didn't even turn her head. She passed Kary as one passes a piece of furniture. A blank space. Her gaze was fixed somewhere ahead, toward the bar.
"Oi!" Kary snapped, unable to help herself. "You! Ninja-hooligan!"
The Kunoichi slowed her pace for a fraction of a second. But she didn't stop. She approached the bar, tossed a coin to the bartender, received a scroll, and turned back toward the exit. Passing them again, her gaze swept the room. Her eyes lingered on Kary for a heartbeat... and instantly lost interest. There was no hatred in that look. No contempt. Only total, absolute indifference. As if Kary were a Level 1 NPC, not worth the mana it would cost to say hello.
The door closed.
Kary sat there with her mouth open. It felt worse than a punch to the gut, worse even than the hunger cramps.
"She... she didn't recognise me?" she whispered, stunned. "Me?! Kary?! The Destroyer?! A woman in velvet?! She looked at me like I was a low-res texture!"
Timmy, having finally unhooked the sword, placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
"Milady... Do not be downcast! She probably just has poor eyesight! Or... she was blinded by your beauty and was too afraid to look directly at you! Yes, that’s it! She fled because she realised she’s inferior to you in every way! You have the curves, the charm, and..." he listened to the growl of her stomach, "...a rich inner world that demands sacrifices! And her? She’s just a scrawny bit of driftwood!"
Marka, who had been watching the scene, crunched loudly on a wafer, finishing Kary off with the sound of food.
"That’s Kira. The Shadow’s right hand. Best in the business." She smirked. "Know why she didn't recognise you? Because to her, right now, you’re nobody. Just pretty, hungry meat in velvet. You want people like her to notice you? Become dangerous. Not just noisy."
Kary turned slowly toward Marka. In her eyes, where tears of humiliation and hunger had just been welling, a cold fire ignited.
"Nobody, you say?" she asked quietly.
She snatched the dagger from the table—the one Marka had been using to clean her nails—and slammed it into the wooden tabletop with all her might.
"Give me a mission, Marka. The hardest one. The most profitable. I’m going to buy this tavern, eat every scrap of food in it, and then I’m going to make that scrawny stick learn my name. And she’ll be writing it in blood."
Marka stopped chewing. She looked at the vibrating dagger, then at Kary. And for the first time that evening, her smile wasn't sickly-sweet, but predatory and approving.
"Now then..." she drawled. "Now we’re talking."
[Class Quest Received: 'First Blood'] [Objective: Clear the Alchemist’s cellar of mutant rats] [Difficulty: Medium (for normal people) / High (for hungry streamers)] [Reward: Respect + 50 Gold (minus tax)]
"Rats?" Kary grimaced, her bravado slipping. "Rats again? I thought it would be a dragon-slaying..."
"Start small, Cinderella," Marka snorted. "Rats in this city are sometimes more dangerous than princes. And they pay out immediately."
At the mention of immediate payment, Kary’s eyes lit up.
"Pay out immediately?" She stood up, proudly smoothing the folds of her dress even though her knees were wobbling. "Fine. Rats it is. Timmy, follow me! We’re off to commit rodent genocide for the sake of a steak! And put some upbeat music on. I’m cross, I’m famished, and I need to kill something!"
The trek to the Alchemist’s house didn't take as long as Kary had feared, but it was long enough for her stomach to start performing operatic arias. Every step in her high heels echoed hollowly in her empty belly.
"Milady," Timmy spoke up timidly, adjusting his grip on the sweat-slicked hilt of the Dragon Slayer. "If we don't find food in the next half hour, I fear I’ll have to start gnawing on the crossguard of this sword. It’s leather. That’s practically meat."
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Stop whinging, Timmy," Kary hissed, though she was already eyeing passing pigeons with gastronomic interest. "We’re on a mission. We do the job—we get fifty sovereigns. With that money, we’ll buy so much food you’ll burst. But first—rats."
They turned off the noisy commercial street into a quarter that smelled not of sewage, but of river freshness and expensive magical reagents. The Alchemist’s house, indicated by the map in her interface (cheers for that, Marka), was immediately striking. It wasn't just a building; it was a postcard from a "Rich and Famous Fantasy" travel guide.
A three-storey mansion built of light, warm stone and dark wooden beams loomed directly over the canal water. The tiled roof with its sharp spires seemed to scratch the sky. The walls were draped in thick ivy that partially obscured the windows, creating an air of mystery and coziness. An elegant wooden bridge with carved railings led to the main entrance, over clear, emerald water flowing lazily below. Exotic flowers bloomed on the balconies, glowing even in the daylight.
[Location Discovered: Residence of the Master Alchemist] [Danger Level: Low (until you go into the cellar)]
"Whoa..." Kary exhaled, forgetting her hunger for a second. "Timmy, look. This is how top-tier streamers should live. Water, greenery, zero mortgage. Dronny, wide shot! Show off this landscaping! I want my subscribers to see what we’re aiming for."
The drone obediently soared upward, circling the mansion and capturing the sun glinting off the water and the texture of the old stone. Kary fixed her hair, straightened her velvet dress, and stepped onto the bridge. Her heels clicked loudly against the wood.
"I feel like the lead in a romance fantasy novel visiting her mysterious guardian," she commented to the camera, striking a pose by the railing. The dress slit flared open, revealing her leg. "A shame that instead of a prince, I’ve got pest control waiting for me."
She struck the massive door with a bronze ring shaped like a lion’s head. The door opened almost instantly. On the threshold stood... a proper old dear. The Alchemist turned out to be a short, plump little man with a fluffy white beard reaching his waist and thick-lensed glasses that made his eyes look enormous and kind. He was wearing robes the colour of a starry night, embroidered with silver thread, and slippers with curled-up toes.
Name: Archibald 'The Miracle-Worker' Class: Alchemist (Grandmaster) Disposition: Welcoming
"Oh!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands. "Has the Guild actually sent help? I thought I’d be eaten alive along with my slippers!"
"The 'Black Hand' Guild," Kary said, trying to put as much gravitas into her voice as possible, though the rumble in her stomach rather ruined the effect. "Kary the Destroyer and her... er... heavy-lifting assistant, Timmy. We’ve come to resolve your little problem."
"Come in, come in, my dears!" the old man bustled, ushering them inside. "The problem isn't so little, believe old Archie! They’re down there... rustling! And gnawing! And I think they’re moving the furniture!"
Inside, the house was even more luxurious than the outside. Polished parquet, rugs that your feet sank into, bookshelves reaching the ceiling. The air was filled with the scent of dried herbs, wax, and something sweet.
"It smells like cinnamon in here," Kary noted, sniffing the air. "Is that rat poison with fragrance?"
"Good heavens, no, child!" Archibald laughed. "Those are buns! I’ve just baked them. Would you like one?"
Kary and Timmy’s eyes lit up simultaneously like two spotlights.
"YES!" they barked in unison.
"Oh, you poor things, quite wasted away in the service," the old man cooed. "But first... business first! The rats are below, in the laboratory. They broke several vials of my... ahem... experimental samples. And now they are behaving quite inappropriately."
He walked to a table and picked up two vials of red liquid.
"Here, take these. 'Minor Healing Potions'. My own private label. Strawberry flavoured, sugar-free. Just in case you... get nibbled."
[Received: Healing Potion (Strawberry) x2]
"Cheers, Grandad." Kary tucked the vial into her inventory. "Timmy, you hear that? We do the job—we get buns. That is the best motivation I’ve ever had. Onward! To the dungeon!"
Archibald led them to a nondescript, iron-bound door in the corner.
"Good luck, heroes!" he creaked, pulling back the bolt. "And please... try not to break everything completely down there. Especially the aphrodisiac rack. It was very expensive."
The stairs down were narrow, spiral, and made of stone. The walls were damp, covered in a strange, glowing moss.
"Timmy, you go first," Kary commanded. "You’re glowing... metaphorically. And you’ve got the sword."
"As you wish, milady!" Timmy replied, stepping into the darkness. "I shall be your shield and your torch! Though I haven't got a torch, I have a burning heart!"
Kary followed, carefully placing her heels on the slippery steps. Dronny flew behind and slightly above, providing the viewers with the exact angle they’d subscribed for: a top-down view of the deep cleavage swaying with every step, and a rear view of the velvet-clad hips.
[Stairs_Fan]: I love stairs. This game has the best stair physics.
[Up_Skirt_Try]: Dronny, go lower! Lower still!
[Kary_Queen]: Kary, hold onto the wall, don't trip!
They descended into a spacious cellar. It was a proper mad scientist’s laboratory crossed with a wholesale chemist's warehouse. Endless shelves lined the walls, crowded with vials, flasks, and jars in every colour of the rainbow. The liquids inside simmered, glowed, and blew bubbles. Tables with alembics stood in the centre. But the main thing was the silence. It was suspiciously quiet.
"Where are the rats?" Kary whispered. "The old boy said they were moving furniture. But it’s quiet as a library in here."
"Maybe they’re sleeping?" Timmy suggested, looking around nervously. "Downed some potions and passed out?"
Kary approached the nearest rack. Curiosity (and a streamer's professional habit) won out.
"Right, what have we here then..." She leaned toward a shelf, reading the labels. The dress stretched tight across her back, tracing the line of her spine and hips. Dronny immediately buzzed closer, capturing "educational content."
[Item: 'Titan Liver' Elixir] [Effect: Allows one to out-drink a dwarf.]
"Handy," Kary snorted. "But not for me. I’m a lady."
She took a step to the side.
[Item: 'Second Chance' Ointment] [Effect: Instant hair growth. Everywhere. Caution: Do not apply to palms.]
"Ugh, revolting."
She moved further along to a section where the vials had playful pink and purple hues. The names here grew... more specific.
[Item: 'Dairy Maid’s Desire' Serum] [Effect: Increases mammary glands by 2 sizes. Lasts 24 hours. Side effect: back pain.]
"Blimey!" Kary whistled. "Chat, are you seeing this? This is a goldmine! No silicone, just pure magic! Though for me," she straightened up proudly, showing off her natural curves tightly packed into the corset, "it’s quite unnecessary. I’ve already got... the full set."
[Chat_Bot] [Booba_Lover]: Kary, nick a couple! We'll do a giveaway for the subscribers! [Flat_Is_Justice]: I object. [Simp_King]: You don't need it, Queen! You're perfect! But grab them just in case!
"Timmy," she called out without turning. "Look, there’s something for the boys too."
She pointed to a vial shaped like... ahem... an aubergine.
[Item: 'Stallion’s Stature' Tonic] [Effect: Well... you get the gist. +200% self-confidence. +50% to the length of... charisma.]
Timmy, who had come over to look, turned a shade of crimson so deep he matched his maroon doublet.
"Milady!" he exclaimed, shielding his eyes with his hand. "How could you! This is... it’s indecent! We are on a mission! And besides, a knight has no need for such... crutches! My sword is quite large enough as it is!"
"The sword might be." Kary smirked, picking up a small bottle labelled 'Titan’s Glutes: Become Hard as a Nut'. "But an extra buff never hurt anyone."
She went to put the bottle back, but then she noticed something odd. On the bottom shelf, where the largest bottles of murky green sludge usually sat, it was empty. Shards of glass lay on the floor. A puddle of something glowing was spreading under the rack. And beside the puddle lay a stopper with a label:
[DANGER! Experimental Mutagen: 'Hyper-Mass + Libido-Boost'. Do not open!]
A chill ran down Kary’s spine.
"Timmy..." she said slowly. "I think I know what the rats drank. And I suspect we aren't going to like it."
"Why, milady?" Timmy asked naively. "Did they become fat and lazy?"
At that moment, from a dark corner behind a jumble of barrels, a sound erupted. It wasn't a squeak. It was a low, guttural growl mixed with heavy breathing. As if there were no rodent sitting in the dark, but a small, very excited bear.
Scritch-scratch.
The sound of claws on stone. Out of the shadows slowly stepped... a Rat. If you could even call it that. It was the size of a large dog. But the size wasn't the scariest part. The rat’s muscles bulged beneath its mangy fur like a bodybuilder on a cycle. Its front paws resembled a wrestler's arms. And the eyes... tiny red eyes burned with such an unhealthy, manic fire that Kary instinctively shielded her chest with her hands.
"Sque-e-eak..." the rat boomed. The voice sounded like a rusty door hinge.
[Monster: Gym-Rat (Under the influence of aphrodisiacs)] [Level: 8] [Status: On the Prowl]
"Erm..." Kary backed away, her hip bumping into a table. "Timmy... Why is it looking at me like that? Like I’m a massive piece of cheddar. In lace knickers."
Two more rats emerged from the darkness following the first. One had unnaturally huge back legs (clearly hadn't skipped leg day), and the third... the third rat looked like it had swallowed a couple of basketballs. Its ribcage was inflated to an absurd degree.
"Oh god," Kary whispered. "They drank the 'Dairy Maid' and the 'Titan'. These are... they're mutant perverts!"
[Chat_Bot] [Gym_Rat]: Hahahaha! Rats on the gear! [Biology_Fail]: What kind of Pokemon are these?! [Run_Kary]: Kary, they have the 'On the Prowl' status! LEG IT!
The first gym-rat stood up on its hind legs, flexed its pecs, and took a step toward Kary.
"SQUE-E-EAK!" it barked, and in that sound was an unmistakable proposition to get better acquainted.
"Timmy!" Kary shrieked. "Defend me! They want... they want my honour! And my dress!"
Timmy, seeing the threat to his Mistress’s honour, was instantly transformed. His fatigue vanished as if by magic.
"Do not dare!" he roared, raising the 'Dragon Slayer' (which now seemed light as a feather in the hands of the enraged romantic). "Stand back, you pharmacological abominations! You are unworthy even to gaze upon her slippers! I challenge you to combat!" He stepped forward, shielding Kary with his body. "For the Lady’s honour! And for the buns the Alchemist promised!"
The rats looked at one another. The muscle-bound one cracked its neck. The cellar battle had begun. And it promised to be messy, strange, and very, very awkward.
"Timmy, hit them!" Kary yelled, jumping back so nimbly her heels struck sparks from the stone floor.
The gym-rat, which the system had dubbed 'Rodent Bodybuilder', lunged, attempting a grapple. Its paws, like furry hams, whistled a millimetre from Kary’s thigh.
"In the name of the Fair Lady!" Timmy shrieked.
He squeezed his eyes shut, swung the Dragon Slayer, and delivered a crushing blow... directly into the nearest rack. The enormous two-handed sword, designed for open fields and epic wyvern battles, proved as useful in a cramped cellar as a fork for eating soup. The blade slammed into the wooden upright with a clang, sticking fast.
"Oops..." Timmy opened one eye. "Milady, I... I’ve pinned the wardrobe! It is no longer a threat!"
"You idiot!" Kary gasped, dodging the second rat’s tail as it snapped like a whip. "Get it out!"
But it was too late. The wardrobe, having lost its structural support, began to tilt. Glass flasks, retorts, and bottles gave a piteous chime. The gym-rat, seizing the moment, leapt.
"Aaaaah!" Kary bolted to the side, sliding between tables. Her voluminous skirt caught on the corner of another rack. That specific rack. The one with the pink and purple liquids.
Time seemed to slow down. Kary watched the shelf wobble. A row of vials, glinting merrily in the light of the magical lamps, began to fall directly toward her. She opened her mouth to shout "Watch out!", but instead, all that came out was a frightened "Oh!"
SMASH!
A rain of glass and magic collapsed upon her. The liquids mixed in the air into one mad cocktail. Pink, glowing pollen, thick purple syrup, and something smelling of musk and orchids. All of it landed on her hair, her face, her cleavage... and, most terrifyingly, in her open mouth.
Kary instinctively swallowed. The taste was sickly sweet, with a bitter peppery kick.
"Cough-cough!" she hacked, wiping her face with her sleeve. "Ugh, how foul! Timmy, I’m all sticky!"
"Milady!" Timmy, finally wrenching the sword free (and bringing the rest of the wardrobe down on one of the rats, burying it under a mound of glass), rushed to her side. "Are you hurt? Have you been poisoned? Oh no, your skin is glowing!"
Kary wanted to say she was fine, but suddenly she felt... strange. A heat. It started in her stomach, like a hot lump, and then hit her bloodstream in a wave. Her heart began to drum like a maniac: thump-thump-thump. Her breathing grew ragged. Her skin became hypersensitive. The touch of the velvet dress, which had been merely pleasant before, now sent shivers over her entire body.
And then IT began.
The bodice of the 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown, which was already sitting snug after her hearty dinner (even though hunger had burned the calories, the volume remained), suddenly became... tight. Catastrophically tight.
"Ooh..." Kary gasped, clutching her chest. "What on earth..."
A loud crackle rang out. No, it wasn't the rats smashing the furniture. It was the seams of her dress. The silver chains lacing her deep cleavage were pulled taut, like the strings on a rock star's guitar right before a solo. The links groaned piteously.
[System Message: You have consumed the 'Dairy Maid’s Dream (Concentrate)' potion] [Effect: Bust increase (+4 sizes). Duration: 24 hours] [Warning! Your armour is not rated for this level of stress!]
"Four?!" Kary squeaked, staring down. Right before her eyes, her already impressive assets began to expand. They grew heavy, pushing higher and higher, straining against the neckline of her gown. The velvet groaned. The fabric was stretched nearly translucent. The chains bit into her tender skin, creating an extreme push-up effect that bordered on an anatomical miracle.
Dronny, who had been panicking near the ceiling, stabilised instantly. His lens focused on the epicentre of the action.
[Booba_God]: GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY!
[Physics_Left_Chat]: Physics has left the chat! Long live magic!
[Donate_Rain]: Sultan_Oil has donated 50,000!
[Simp_King]: MY EYES! I’M BLINDED BY THE BEAUTY! HANG IN THERE, CHAINS! YOU ARE THE LAST LINE OF DEFENCE!
But that wasn't all. A second effect hit her head like a glass of champagne. Kary felt her knees buckle, but not from fear. A sweet, thick heat pooled in her lower belly. Her vision blurred. Suddenly, she felt very hot. And very... lonely.
[System Message: You have consumed the 'Succubus Breath' potion] [Effect: Libido increased by 500%. Charisma +20 (affects everyone, including monsters). Control resistance decreased.]
Kary leaned against the table, breathing heavily. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson. She looked at the gym-rat with a hazy, shimmering gaze.
"What a..." she whispered in a husky, low voice, "...muscular boy."
The rat froze. Its tiny red eyes widened. Even a mutant on aphrodisiacs sensed the shift. The victim no longer smelled of fear. She smelled of... promise.
"Milady!" Timmy ran to her side but recoiled instantly, turning bright red. "Good heavens! What's happened to you?! You've... you've expanded! In strategically vital areas! And your eyes... are they glowing with... passion?"
"Timmy..." Kary purred, and the sheer sound of her voice made the page's knees go weak. "I'm so hot. This dress... it's suffocating me."
She reached for the lacing but stopped just in time. The last shred of reason—and her mother's voice in the back of her head—screamed: "DON'T UNDRESS IN FRONT OF THE RATS!"
"No!" She shook her head, and her new, enormous assets swung with the inertia of waterbeds. "I have to... I have to fight!"
The gym-rat, recovering from the shock, decided this was its chance. It lunged forward, its maw agape. Kary realised she couldn't run. Her centre of gravity had shifted, and her legs felt like lead from the arousal. She didn't have her sword. She scanned the remaining shelves until she saw a green bottle with a fist on the label.
"I hope this isn't a laxative!" she shouted, grabbing the vial and downing it in one.
The taste was sharp, like an electric shock. Her muscles were instantly flooded with strength. The world became crystal clear. Every movement of the rat seemed to happen in slow motion.
[System Message: You have consumed the 'Monk’s Rage' elixir] [Effect: 'Hand-to-Hand Combat' skill (Grandmaster) for 10 minutes. Strength +50. Agility +50.]
The rat was already mid-air. Kary didn't dodge. She simply lashed out with a perfect vertical split. The hem of the 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown couldn't take it; it ripped along the seam right up to her hip, exposing her stockings and her 'Ghost’s Touch' lingerie.
BAM!
Her sharp heel met the rat's nose. The sound was like a gunshot. The hundred-kilogram rodent flew back, knocking its comrades over like bowling pins.
"Ki-ya!" Kary exhaled.
She took a combat stance: feet apart, knees bent, hands in the 'crane' position. Her chest—now a size 6—heaved, threatening to burst from the corset with every move, but Kary didn't care anymore. She felt the power. And a wild, unbridled desire... to hit someone.
"Timmy, music!" she commanded. "Something from a 90s action flick!"
[Action_Queen]: SHE’S BECOME BRUCE LEE WITH BOOBS!
[Epic_Fail]: The dress! Look at the dress! It’s held together by a wing and a prayer and pure magic!
[Fap_Time]: I can't keep up with the screenshots!
The remaining two rats, seeing the fate of their leader, roared and charged. Kary moved like water. Dodge. Pivot. Her chest swung left, letting a clawed paw miss her by an inch. An elbow strike followed. Crack. The rat folded in two. A leg sweep followed. The second rat hit the floor. Kary leapt and landed with panther-like grace—a very curvaceous panther—with both heels on the enemy's ribcage.
"Take that!" she shouted, getting into the zone. "That's for the lack of hygiene! And that's for being a rat! And that's... just because I’m worked up and have nowhere to put this energy!"
Timmy stood in the corner, clutching the sword to his chest, weeping with joy.
"Oh, Valkyrie!" he sobbed. "She dances the dance of death! Her curves are weapons! Her heels are divine retribution! Dronny, get a low angle! Capture this triumph of flesh and spirit!"
The final chord was epic. Kary grabbed the last, fattest rat by the tail, spun it over her head—nearly losing her balance due to the shifted centre of gravity—and hurled it into the wall. The rat slid down the stones in a shapeless heap.
Silence. Only Kary's heavy breathing and the ping of the last chain snapping on her neckline remained. She stood in the wrecked lab, sweaty and dishevelled, a manic glint in her eyes and a chest held up only by willpower and scraps of fabric.
[Quest Completed: 'First Blood'] [Progress: Rats destroyed (100%)]
"Phew..." Kary wiped her brow, smearing glowing pollen across her face. "Hot. It's so hot..."
She looked at Timmy. Her gaze blurred. The battle potion was wearing off, but 'Succubus Breath' was still boiling in her blood.
"Timmy..." she took a step toward him, licking her lips. "You're so... sweaty. And heroic. Come here. Help me... unfasten this."
Timmy turned white. "M-milady?! You... you're not yourself! It's the potion! Control yourself! Think of the Shadow Assassin! Think of the proprieties!"
At that moment, the door at the top of the stairs opened. "Oi!" came the Alchemist's creaky voice. "Is it all quiet? Are you alive? I've got tea!"
Kary startled. The spell broke slightly. "Tea..." she whispered. "Yes. Tea. And buns. I need to eat away this... this urge."
She struggled up the stairs. Every step was a chore. Her chest pulled her down, her thighs rubbed together, and her body demanded affection, not climbing. When they reached the parlour, Archibald had already set the table. The little old man turned around, holding a tray of steaming cinnamon buns.
He looked at Kary. At her ripped dress. At her protruding bust, which was twice the size it had been when she arrived. At her flushed face and her wandering gaze. Archibald blinked behind his thick glasses. And... he said nothing. He was a professional. Alchemists had seen stranger things.
"Oh, you did it!" he creaked joyfully, putting down the tray. "And you barely broke anything... judging by the noise, only a couple of racks. Sit down, my children. Carbs restore mana."
Kary collapsed into an armchair. She grabbed a bun and buried her teeth in it. The food blunted the aphrodisiac's effect slightly, but didn't remove it completely. She ate greedily, crumbs falling into her vast cleavage. Timmy sat beside her, staring pointedly at his plate and muttering prayers for chastity.
"Here is your reward," the Alchemist placed a heavy purse on the table. "Fifty sovereigns. Honestly earned. And... ahem..." he coughed delicately, looking at Kary’s ear. "The 'Dairy Maid’s Dream' effect will wear off in twenty-four hours. I recommend a cold shower and a few philosophical treatises. Helps with... excessive excitement."
Kary nodded, chewing her third bun. "Cheers, Grandad. You're a true friend." She scooped up the gold—half of which vanished instantly to the Guild tax. "Timmy, eat up. We have to move. I've got plenty to do. And I need a new dress. Or a marquee."
She stood up, moving carefully to avoid a total wardrobe malfunction.
"First quest done," she told the drone, blowing a kiss that looked far more debauched than she’d intended. "Subscribe, hit the like button. This was Kary, Rat Slayer and... just a large woman. See you in the next stream!"
The screen went dark. Kary exhaled and pressed her cold hands to her hot cheeks. "God... I really want... another bun. And a man. But the bun first."