The air in the cave hung thid heavy, a miasma of damp earth and something far more primal. Before setting off to front the lingering threat of the Brats, Bathilda, with a swift mental and, activated her (Enhanced Echolocation).

  The familiar wave of sonic pulses painted a vivid, if grotesque, picture in her mind. A wave of nausea, cold and sharp, washed over her as she withe se. The five remaining Brats, their squat, muscur forms slick with gore, were engaged in a grisly feast. The object of their repast was the mangled remains of their fallen rade, the one she had uionally dispatched with her venomous touch.

  A shiver, irely from revulsion, ran down her spine. Why are they eating the dead rat? Food 't be that scarce that they turn to ibalism, right? They wereing each other before.

  The question hung in the air, unanswered, until a sudden, gnawiion reminded her of a more pressing . Since her abrupt and disorienting reination, she hadn't ed anything. A flicker of worry sparked within her.

  The thought of sustenance had been pushed aside by the immediate dangers and the overwhelming strangeness of her enow, however, the realization of her empty stomaed rge. She sed the cavern, her (Enhanced Echolocation) revealing a myriad of textures and shapes, but nothing that appealed to her newly formed pate.

  How long before the hunger pains ki? she wohe prospect of starvation, a grim specter, joihe growing list of her aies. Bathilda resolved that pr a reliable food source would be a priority, sed only to dealing with the Brats.

  A sudden surge of excitement coursed through her. Oh, those skill points! she beamed, remembering the reward for her previous, albeit actal, victory. I should spend them. But, how do I do that?

  She began experimenting, thinking of various ands. Skill Shop! Skill Tree! Skill Points!

  After a few attempts, a translut window materialized before her, filled with a dizzying array of options. A sense of childlike wonder filled her as she mentally scrolled through the categories, the interface responding to her thoughts with seamless precision. That is pretty awesome.

  Like a child in a dy store, Bathilda lingered, expl the vast catalogue of skills. Eatry was a tantalizing glimpse into the potential of her new life. She read descriptions of abilities that could enhance her senses, augmerength, and even manipute the very fabric of reality. The sheer breadth of possibilities was overwhelming, yet exhirating.

  Finally, her attention was drawn to a category that resonated with her core desire: Healing. The descriptions of the spells and teiques within were nothing short of miraculous. Magic spells, real and tangible, capable of mending flesh, g disease, and even reversih. The thought sent a jolt of adrenalihrough her.

  Is that how I'll help people here, with magic? What happeo the bygone era of medie? she wondered, her mind a mixture of awe and annoyahe ck of information was another snub by God's harem. Still. Magic.

  That... Is... Awesome! Pa-chew. Pa-chew. I know that isn't the right sound, but who here is going to tell me any different? The Brats? I doubt it. They are going to bee the fuel for my evolutiht after I spend these points.

  She spent an hour meticulously examining the healiion, her mind rag with the possibilities. But a frustratiy soon became apparent. In the upper right er of the window, a small box dispyed the number "4." It was the only hat remained stant across all the categories, leadio believe it represented her avaible skill points.

  A wave of disappoi washed over her. She cursed her limited resources and the tantalisingly close, yet unattainable, spell she had attempted to purchase.

  Lesser Healing: 5 Skill Points – Heals minor wounds and stops bleeding. This spell is not effective e wounds or iions.

  Cost: 5 mana

  The fact that she was one point short of acquiring such a vital ability was a cruel twist of fate. She vowed to remember the spell, to save it for a future purchase. The desire to hoard her points for a powerful healing spell was strong, but she knew she needed every advantage she could muster for her uping frontation with the Brats.

  With a heavy heart, she moved past the healiion and tinued her search. Eventually, she found a category beled "Passive Skills." In which, she discovered several abilities that cost only a single skill point. After careful sideration, Bathilda spent all her points passive skills, each promising to enhance her ces of survival.

  Iron Body: Each level of this skill raises the user's defence by 5%.

  Swift Wing: Each level of this skill raises the user's movement speed by 5%.

  Identify: Each level of this skill adds more information to the user's field of view.

  (Identify), costing two points, was the most expensive of the trio, but Bathilda deemed it essential. The ability to dis the vital information about her oppos, particurly their health, would be invaluable in her hit-and-run tactics.

  With her purchases plete, Bathilda activated her (Enhanced Echolocation). The familiar wave of sonic pulses returned, but this time, it was bolstered by the newly acquired (Identify) skill. The information streamed into her mind, a torrent of data that painted a detailed picture of her surroundings.

  Cave wall, cave floor, cave wall, cave floor, roof, root, root, stone, Grickit, Brat, Brat, Brat...

  The lita on, listing every objed creature within range, along with a brief description. The sheer volume of information was overwhelming, but Bathilda quickly adapted, filtering the data to focus on the most relevaails. She hat she was indeed in a cave, a fact she had previously only suspected.

  What's a Grickit? she wondered, her attention drawn to the unfamiliar term. She sed the cavern, her echolocation revealing a strange creature lurking in the shadows.

  Rising to her feet, her joints stiff from inactivity, Bathilda turowards the pit where the Brats had feasted. A jolt of panic seized her as she realized she had been too pt. Across the chasm, five silhouettes stood motionless, their crimson eyes glowing in the darkness. They had fiheir macabre meal and were now focused oheir prey.

  If not for her dete skill, she would have been caught pletely unaware. Fortunately, her enhanced senses had alerted her to their presehe Brats, uo cross the chasm, were trapped oher side, their frustration palpable.

  Ha! What are you going to do now, shitheads? she taunted, her clicks eg across the cavern. She danced along the edge of the pit, reveling iemporary safety. The Brats, their faces torted in rage, snarled and hissed, their frustration growing with each passing moment.

  Suddenly, a blur of motion caught her attention. A beled object, a (stone), hurtled through the air, striking her wing with a sharp impact. The taunting halted immediately, repced by a surge of adrenaline. More stones followed, eae beled as it flew, as Bathilda retreated dowunnel.

  She rounded a er, seeking refuge behind a bend in the passage. She paused, catg her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Even though she was out of sight, the Brats tiheir barrage, hurling stones and debris into the tuhey could smell her, sense her presence, and they were determio drive her out.

  The bombardment was relentless, a stant reminder of the danger lurking behind her. Bathilda realized that her initial pn had been thwarted. The Brats were now guarding the entrao their , making a direct assault impossible. That meant she o e up with another pn.

  Relutly, she decided to explore the tunnel where the Millisnake had lived.

  Nothiured, nothing gained, right? she shuddered, steeling herself for the unknown. She turned and began to move deeper into the darkness, leaving the frustrated Brats behind.