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Card testing was in full swing in the dungeons. Any card the contestants could use got documented extensively. Of course, that still left out a huge swathe of weapons- enemy weapons. A large handful of them never appeared in shops, chests, or any natural episode rotations. Battlefield observation could only get them so far, what with how enemies were limited to a single fight per round, and how there was no guarantee they’d show for anyone else from day to day. If only the contestants could swipe enemy cards…
… oh, wait.
Wasn’t one of them a professional purloiner?
The only person Thief expected to look out for in this dungeon was the same one he’d spent his life caring for; himself. And yet, here he was, putting his feather light touch to use for someone else. Several ‘someone else’s. It wasn’t a permanent arrangement if he could help it- after all, they weren’t the only ones gathering information. If everyone wanted a leg up on the competition, he was making damn sure he kept an edge over them. Leverage always took him far.
That’s what he was telling himself, anyway.
In any case, he had to keep his head in the game. A rare opportunity presented itself today- the Alchemist was on the field. Her potions left monstrous craters in his health, body burned and pincushioned far too much for his liking. Usually he managed to take her down before she used her final potion. The damn thing healed her twelve whole hp! If it didn’t get her back to full health, it got her close- AND transformed her into a creature with a lethal set of cards.
So, honestly?
He considered swiping the potion quite Lucky.
As the alchemist hurled insults and warnings across the field, Thief slipped all his dice into the purloined card. This wasn’t his first time snagging the bear potion, but it was his first time using it. Alchemist always drank her potions, after all- the mere idea of doing so made him far too nauseous in the past. Familiar clik cliks rang out as the countdown reached zero, satisfied hum following the poof of card transformation.
Thief took a moment to look over the potion now sitting in his gloved hand. A long neck stuck up from the spherical vessel, pale minty liquid sloshing messily from side to side. He could just make out little whisps of something in the ooze. Brown little lines… almost like-
The green contestant snapped his mouth shut, grit teeth grinding on each other as he wrestled down a dry heave. Fur . The potion was full of little strands of bear fur . And he had to drink this ? The slow syrupy slosh of the thing already had his skin crawling, but this -
“TAKE YOUR DAMN TURN OR GIVE ME MY POTION BACK ALREADY!” the alchemist screamed. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING WITH POWER LIKE THAT!”
Thief’s green gilled look sombered instantly at her cries. Dark eye narrowing, hunger danced in his gaze. Power, hm? From a card only he could obtain?
Well. If there was one consistent thing about him, it was that he played for keeps.
“Finders keepers. This is my prize to use as I please,” he shot back across the field. With a flick of his thumb, he uncorked the bottle, little ‘pop’ matching the sound of the steam coming out of alchemist’s ears.
“DON’T YOU DARE-” she tried. But that was the last nudge Thief needed. She howled a long “NOOOOOOOOOOO” as he forced the liquid down his throat.
Thief threw the bottle to the floor, glass shattering as he gagged. There, he’d- he’d done it, he- fuck , how did it taste so much worse than he’d imagined- ‘gods damn me to hell -’
The sludge burned sharper than the hardest vodka as it slimed down to his stomach. His gloved hands scrabbled at his throat, bits of phlegm and fur catching in all the wrong places. Gods- he couldn’t stop hacking, the feeling of tar on his tongue, sharp hairs jabbing into his insides- he spat an anguished hiss as mint haze overtook his vision. The alchemist was still yelling. The audience gasped and screamed in eager pleasure. The music swelled louder at this turn of the drama.
But it was all fading.
All the sound turned tinny as a horrible roar built in his ears. Chest heaving, Thief reached out- for what, he didn’t care, he just needed to see- touch- smell- anything but the agonizing repulsive ooze clawing back up from his gut to his mouth-
A dull thud, pain ricocheting through his limbs. Wooden floorboards peeking through the mint haze. Thief gagged again, slime pouring past his teeth. He threw himself into the action, instinct to purge this poison from him alive and desperately well. But the burning didn’t stop. It started to spread . Thief gasped, choking on his own cries as molten lead poured through his limbs. Agony spiked wherever it touched, blazing knots of it lodging in his joints and face. ‘What- what’s happening to me-’ a flighty voice shrieked. ‘You took a damn bear potion, idiot- you’re transforming,’ a harsher one snipped. ‘You’ve got to ride it out while it-’ ‘it hurts -’ ‘just stay awake-’ ‘m-my head -’ ‘think about anything else-’ ‘ I can’t breathe- ’ ‘try harder, damnit-’ ‘ gods, PLEASE- ’
Pressure building, climbing, smoldering liquid and razor thin needles shredding at his insides, concentrating along his spine and his face -
“Gh- grrrAAAAAAH-”
Another thud, pain blossoming from his forehead. Wood scraped roughly on his skin as he pulled back, body throbbing before he slammed himself on the floorboards again. What little relief a new pain brought was swallowed up as his skull cracked . Strangled howls of pain fought to escape from his throat, sounds garbled and harsh against shifting teeth. As they enlarged and sharpened, his skull creaked, skin straining to keep up with his growing jaw. With a pulse of white hot pain, more shards of bone burst from his gums, ten new teeth crowding in his mouth. Gurgled screams gushed with a stream of saliva to spatter against the floorboards. He could feel his nose pushing outwards, muscles convulsing as his head flattened and swelled. His spine groaned and snapped as it lengthened, the comforting silky caress of his gloves peeling away as searing spikes forced themselves from his nailbeds. More wood on his palms, skin rapidly thickening into tough pads. He cried out again as his body began to grow, desperate keening pitching deeper as the seams of his clothes stretched and burst. Wood, air, millions of needles pushing out of his skin. Coarse fur covered every inch of his body, the scratching texture enough to ramp his screams to deafening. If they could rightly be called screams any longer. Ragged howls spewed from his maw as his limbs shifted from bipedal to quadrapedal, fresh claws leaving deep gouges in the floor.
Then, just as he thought he might break, the agony began to recede. Hot breaths rushed past spit soaked fangs. Though his eye was squeezed shut, he could still sense the new bulk his body took on, feel the weight of a new coat of fur. He let out a shuddering groan as he forced himself onto his new thickened limbs. Every piece of him was trembling. His thoughts floated sluggishly through heavy fog, last glimpses of clarity scattered like diamonds in a crowd of peasants.
Wrong.
This… this was wrong.
He shouldn’t be this.
And yet, there he stood, muzzle scrunching up as his eye squinted open. The harsh stagelight made him growl- ‘wrong noise, what happened to me-’ but another sound quickly caught his addled brain.
Something rattled through the air, familiar and cubical.
Something swirled about his paws, caressing them with hungry strength.
Something here smelled of blood.
Another sound. Someone a short distance from him was babbling. He couldn’t quite make out their face- ‘hazy, pain, what’s wrong with me-’ but their tone was prickling the fur along his spine. He growled again, louder, lower. The figure’s sounds stumbled over themselves as he took a step in their direction. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he recognized the scent of his own blood on the stranger’s hands.
His muzzle twisted in a harrowing snarl, shoulders hunching. How dare they do this to him. How dare they think they could hurt him this way and live . How dare they not silence themself when it was already so very loud, so bright , so painful, so-
“GRAAAAAAAAUGH!”
Wood beneath his feet, air slicing between his claws, cloth and glass and flesh falling away with two heavy swipes of his limbs.
Another wail as trumpets hailed his victory.
Blood and screams, mint haze and pink tendrils, all thrown together in a jumbled honey smoothie. Time was flowing too fast and too slow all at once- gods, what happened to him? Who was he, what was going on, why wouldn’t his desperate swings land on the blurry mess in front of him, why couldn’t he feel his body anymore, why couldn’t he think, why-
Cold crackling into his lungs, fire licking at his face, sparks leaving electrified burns along his limbs-
A sudden sharp object rammed through his ribs.
Bursting out of his back by the shoulder blade.
Weak thrashes going limp as the noise and light slowly, mercifully , gave way to darkness.
---
Dark.
Steam.
Rushing water.
Labored breaths.
“Thief?”
An involuntary twitch, soft hiss following the flare of pain at the movement.
“Viper?”
A sliver of light sliced through the blackness. Another hiss, head jerking away and eye squeezing shut. A knock, body tensing at the sound, instantly convulsing at its soreness.
“You still in here…?”
A slow breath, moist air soothing a raw throat.
“... yes,” Thief finally replied, voice quiet and rough. His senses dully pulsed online. Warm tiles pressed against his huddled form. The dark remained, closed eye its fragile tether. Scalding water hailed down his body, heat that would’ve been suffocating naught but a whisper against earlier agony. The thundering patter of the shower was almost enough to block out the endless ringing in his ears.
Together, it was almost enough to make him forget the arena.
Almost.
“It’s been two hours, Vi,” Warrior’s voice reached through the haze. “Are you hungry?”
Hungry- oh gods no, not something else oozing down his throat to his roiling stomach- ‘please, no, no no NO-’
Thief’s jaw throbbed as he grit his teeth- holes in his mouth, bloody sockets mixing iron with bony phlegm - clamping down harshly against an involuntary retch.
“... n… no,” he managed to choke.
“O… kay… If you’re sure,” Warrior said uncertainly. “Inventor’s in the arena now. They were saying something about a bear…?”
Focus on the water, the steam, the flow of unending heat, the millions of needles bursting from his skin, the visceral crunches of bones reforming and skin stretching -
“What… what happened to you in there?”
Hah. A better question would be what didn’t . Thief forced a deep breath into his lungs, steam curling into the lingering rawness of his windpipe. He held the air for as long as he could. Silent. Water thundering down.
When he finally set his breath free, it came with a rattling groan.
“I’m never drinking another fucking potion again .”