Shapeless Hero

31 - Face to Face

I can barely pull my eyes away from the gaping wound on the man's back. Saliva gathers in my mouth, as if I was being presented a hearty meal after a week of just bread crumbs and water. 

I shake my head clear of the intrusive thoughts, which beckon me to rip off fleshy chunks and snack on them. A grim reminder of the shapeshifter's hardwired cravings. If that's caused by exposed flesh alone, I need to get away from my dying meal, but that's impossible right now. I'm surrounded by five hostiles. I could try to flee and change shape, but I don't know, if those five are just a small gang or members of a bigger organization. In the latter case, I'd have nowhere to hide for a quick switch of outfits, due to Ryelopes layout. And even if I were able to flee, what would happen to Clint?

The fog slowly looses its density and the impulses to taste the bleeding goodness return to the corners of my mind. I have to act fast or I'll actually slip a hand into the wounds for a taste test.

Hold on... if these thieves operate in such dangerous locations, they surely have health potions on them, right? One of the staples of fantasy worlds? If I can't get away, getting rid of the injuries in that manner should work too.

I rush over to the dying thief and sift through his gear. Around his waist are flaps of fabric, as dark as the rest of his slim outfit. These flaps hinder the identification of any specific items that might be attached to his belt, but that doesn't make it hard to pull something out from it.

I hear the dirt shift beneath countless foot steps. The same five individuals are circling around the dissipating fog.

"D-did it really work? I heard movement.", one whispers.

"Ssh! You might wake her!", another one hisses back.

I go through the items of the belt, one by one, in hopes of finding even a single potion with the magical properties resembling healing magic.

Healing magic? Why do I know, how its mana signature looks?

It finally clicks. I already used it as Alya! With little time left and no healing potions in sight, I morph into the blue-robed mage. My transformation just barely completed, I start to activate her recovery magic. To my relief, the flesh on my victim's back starts to regrow rapidly—as rapidly as my own mana gets consumed, that is. I remind myself to visualize the mana flow, as Karl instructed me during our first meeting to quicken the healing process.

"What did you do to him!? Who are you?!", someone shouts, the anger obvious.

"Gods, is he dead?", I hear a shaky voice.

The fog is gone completely now, I realize too late. Weapons get drawn around me—slings loaded with oh so familiar, explosive ammunition.

I can guess how I must look to them. From their perspective, I am a mage leaning over one of their colleagues, the blood of said man used as cheap paint on the wall. I pull down the wide-brimmed hat over my face. The real Alya doesn't need more targets painted on her back.

I can hear the tension build in the slings and see the mana surge in their hands. I might survive a stab or eight, but an explosion's area of effect could destroy my shifter core. And five of such explosions are imminent.

I could be invincible though, even if it's just for a fraction of a second, but I'll have to transform back to the figure with the foldable cleaver. Can I pretend to have used "disguise magic" to explain the situation later? Rev's identification powder from yesterday's trial—one of the types of magic mentioned was kind of that. Declaring that explanation sufficient, I shift back to the cleaver-man. 

"What the hell?", one says.

"Shoot already! You've seen what.. it has done to him!", another shouts.