Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

Well... shit.

Adom’s mind was still trying to process what had just happened. The cat - his cat - the one he’d been living with for days now... was a woman. A grown, very beautiful woman.

His brain helpfully began cataloging every single time he’d changed clothes in front of the cat. Every morning routine. Every post-training shower. That time he and Sam spent an entire evening making increasingly crude jokes about one of their professor’s mustache...

Oh God.

The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. He’d even given the cat a bath once, after it - she - had fallen into a mud puddle. He could feel his ears burning at the memory.

Through the embarrassed haze, he watched as the Veyshari women fussed over her, bringing more blankets and what looked like a spare dress. Her movements were uncertain, like someone relearning how to use their own body. But there was something about her face that tugged at his memory - a half-remembered dream, perhaps? The curve of her cheek, the way her eyes crinkled slightly when she looked around... it felt familiar, yet he was certain he’d never met her before.

As if sensing his thoughts, she turned toward him. Their eyes met again, and this time she smiled - a warm, gentle expression that transformed her entire face. She raised her hand slightly, beckoning him over.

Adom stood frozen, his feet apparently having forgotten how to move.

”Very beautiful woman,” the old man beside him commented matter-of-factly. ”Good hips. Strong.”

”Purano beng!” An elderly woman - who from their familiar bickering had to be the old man’s wife - smacked him on the back of his head with practiced precision. ”Na dikh pe late kavka!”

The old woman turned to Adom, shooing him forward with her hands. ”Go, go. No mind him. Old goat only has eyes left, brain gone long time ago.”

Yes. Definitely his wife. Man had it coming too.

Adom’s feet began moving, though his brain was still debating the wisdom of this decision. The crowd parted before him, creating a path that felt miles long. He passed two men carrying the sheep’s carcass, their knives already working with practiced efficiency. The metallic scent of blood mixed with woodsmoke and sea air.

Different faces turned to watch his progress. An old grandmother nodding approvingly. Young children giggling behind their mothers’ skirts. A teenager rolling his eyes and muttering something that made his friend snicker. Somewhere, the drums had started again, softer now, like a heartbeat in the background.

What was he supposed to say? ’Hi’ felt ridiculous. ’You look different without fur’ would probably get him slapped. ’Sorry about that bath last week’ - God, no. Maybe something dignified about being honored to finally meet her properly? No, too formal. ’You have beautiful eyes’ - true, but creepy given the circumstances.

He carefully stepped around the bloody runes still drawn in the sand, his shadow stretching long in the firelight. The sorceress was helping the woman adjust the borrowed dress, which hung slightly loose on her frame.

Up close, he had to tilt his head back to look at her properly - she was tall, easily a head and a half taller than his current twelve-year-old body.

Something about that height difference made him feel even more awkward about the whole situation.

She turned toward him fully now, and whatever carefully constructed greeting he’d been forming evaporated like morning mist. ”Kitty Cat?” he heard himself say.

...For God’s sake.

The instant the words left his mouth, he wanted to walk straight into the ocean and keep walking. Several of the Veyshari women didn’t bother hiding their laughter. Even the sorceress’s lips twitched.

But the woman - the former cat - just smiled wider, and somehow that was even worse.

”Hello, little mage.”

”Little... mage?” Adom squeaked, then immediately wished he hadn’t.

She laughed softly, one hand covering her mouth in a surprisingly delicate gesture. ”You don’t need to be so stoic, you know. I’d like to think we know each other well enough by now.”

Get it together, he told himself firmly. You’ve faced death. Literally. This is just... just...

”I... I...” he started, but she cut him off.

”Thank you,” she said simply.

Adom fell silent, watching as she spread her fingers in front of her face, examining them like precious treasures. She touched her hair, ran her hands down her arms, wiggled her toes in the sand. Each movement seemed to fill her with quiet wonder.

”It’s strange,” she said softly, ”being an animal. Everything is... simpler. Clearer. Hunger means eat. Tired means sleep. The world is all scents and sounds and instincts.” She touched her face, tracing her own features as if making sure they were real. ”But human thoughts are still there, just... muffled. Like trying to read through foggy glass. And then sometimes the cat’s mind would take over completely, and I’d find myself chasing mice or batting at string, and the human part of me would just watch, amused.”

She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back slightly. ”But this... oh, this feels right. Like slipping into your own bed after a long journey. Everything exactly where it should be.” A soft smile played across her lips. ”Though I might miss being able to lick my own shoulder.”

”I’m glad you’re back then,” Adom finally managed, finding his voice.

”Me too,” she smiled warmly. ”And thank you, again.”

He kept looking at her, brow furrowed slightly. There was something... he could swear he’d never met her before, and yet...

She caught his stare and her smile faltered. ”What’s wrong? Is there- is the curse still-?” Her hands flew to her face, checking for whiskers or fur.

”No, no, nothing like that,” Adom quickly assured her. ”It’s just... I feel like I know your face from somewhere. I can’t place it, but...”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he tried [Identify], expecting the curse-induced [???] to have disappeared. But the same mysterious marker floated above her head. That was... odd. He’d assumed the unknown status was because of the transformation magic, but now...

”Oh. I suppose you would.” Her voice grew quiet, something unreadable passing across her features. She didn’t elaborate.

Adom wanted to ask more, but something in her expression made him hold back.

She straightened, offering a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ”My name is Morgana,” she said softly, ”though it’s been... quite a while since anyone called me that.”

Before Adom could respond, Mirko’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. ”Curse gone! One hundred gold pieces!” The old man was beaming, his teeth glinting in the firelight.

”Right,” Adom said, still a bit dazed. He reached into his inventory, pulling out the agreed-upon payment. Several of the Veyshari gasped and muttered among themselves as the coins materialized from thin air.

”Ah! You mage too?” Mirko asked, eyebrows rising as he counted the coins.

”Yes.”

”Then why you not break curse yourself, eh?” He pocketed the money with practiced swiftness.

”I’m... not really specialized in curse-breaking. Different school of magic entirely.”

Mirko burst out laughing, reaching out to grab the sorceress who had been trying to slip away. ”My sister’s daughter! Best curse-breaker in all tribes!” The woman yelped indignantly as he pulled her into a one-armed hug. ”Best, yes? You tell him - best!”

The sorceress jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, spitting out what sounded like several creative curses in thier tongue.

”Yeah,” Adom agreed, watching as she finally extracted herself from her uncle’s grip with a huff. ”She’s definitely the best.”

The best... the best... He repeated in his thoughts, an idea rising.

Adom turned back toward Morgana, but his mind was already racing in two directions - the impossible cat on one side, and on the other... He studied the sorceress, remembering the intricate dance of her hands as she drew those runes.

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”Those symbols you used,” he said, gesturing to the fading marks in the sand. ”Some of them are really old. Most mages don’t even use them anymore.”

The sorceress shrugged, adjusting her shawl. ”Is tradition.”

”Yes, I understand that, but...” Adom’s eyes traced the patterns again. Most were familiar, true, but others... they reminded him of... His hand moved almost automatically to his inventory. ”Actually...”

He pulled out the Grimoire of Law. One of the runes drawn by the sorceress caught his attention during the ritual - a complex swirl that seemed to shift under his gaze. He tried [Identify] on it, but just like with the book itself, all he got was [???]. Another dead end.

Behind him, he was vaguely aware of some children tugging at Morgana’s dress, offering her bread and what smelled like fresh stew. Her gentle laughter carried on the evening breeze.

”Do you recognize any of these runes?” he asked, holding the book out to the sorceress.

She muttered something under her breath, her eyes widening slightly. ”This very old,” she said, switching to her accented trade speech. ”Where you find?”

Adom ignored the question. ”Can you read it?” Hope crept into his voice. After weeks of getting nowhere...

She held out her hands, and he passed her the grimoire. She opened it, frowned at the blank pages, then looked at him questioningly.

”I know, it’s strange. But the cover - can you read what’s on the cover?”

She studied it intently, her finger tracing the symbols. She and Mirko exchanged rapid words in their language, pointing at different marks. Adom’s heart beat faster with each nod and gesture.

Finally, she shook her head. ”No. Not know meaning.”

His shoulders slumped. ”But look,” he said, pointing to one of the symbols. ”This one, it’s like the blood rune you used earlier for binding, but it’s different from how we draw it today. It’s more like...” He traced the pattern in the air.

”Ah,” she said, nodding. ”But this knowledge, it come from father, from his father. We not make these. We learn from giants.”

”Giants?” Adom blinked. ”But they’re practically extinct. Nobody’s seen one in a hundred years, and they’re all the way across the-” He stopped, wheels turning in his head.

Behind them, Morgana was now surrounded by a small crowd of children, showing them how to properly hold a spoon (”No, like this - see? Much more dignified.”). But Adom barely noticed, his mind churning with possibilities.

”The giants,” he said slowly. ”They would know about these runes?”

The sorceress nodded, handing the book back to him. ”They make first runes. All magic writing come from giants. You want know about book?” She pointed east, toward the distant mountains that marked the edge of the Aslan continent. ”Find giants.”

”Thank you, uh...” Adom said to the sorceress, realizing he’d never caught her name.

”Mirela,” she said, adjusting her shawl.

”Thank you, Mirela.”

She nodded once, and Adom turned away to look at a group of women by the fire.

Morgana sat cross-legged there, surrounded by children who kept calling her ”mața femeie” while touching her hair. The women presented her with the sheep’s heart on a wooden plate, steam still rising from it. Adom watched from where he stood, the grimoire heavy in his hands.

”Powerful curse,” Mirko said beside him, making Adom jump slightly. ”Need life force to break. Sheep die, curse break.” He slapped Adom’s back with another booming laugh. ”Magic! Who knows how work, yes?”

Adom rubbed his shoulder, wondering if bruises from friendly gestures counted as combat damage. ”Right...”

”She must eat heart,” Mirela added softly, watching as Morgana picked up the offering. ”Her curse take sheep life. Must honor sacrifice.”

Adom nodded, transfixed by the scene.

Under the firelight, Morgana brought the heart to her mouth with both hands, not bothering with the offered utensils. There was something mesmerizing about watching her eat a raw heart with the delicate savagery of a wild animal.

Her movements were still feline - efficient, graceful, predatory. Blood trickled down her chin, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, seemingly unbothered by the watching children.

A glint of moonlight caught his eye, and Adom’s stomach dropped. The moon! The Strider had said he’d only wait an hour...

”I have to go,” he said quickly, already moving toward Morgana. The drums continued their steady rhythm as he approached, and she looked up at him, hands still red with the sheep’s blood.

”Leaving already?” Morgana wiped her hands on a cloth offered by one of the women.

”The Strider’s waiting for us- well, me.” Adom shifted awkwardly. ”Since you probably can’t exactly walk into Xerkes...”

She smiled, understanding. ”I’ll walk with you a bit along the beach.”

As Adom turned to leave, the camp erupted in a flurry of goodbyes. Mirko wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. ”Stay! We eat sheep, yes? Good meat!”

”No, no, he drink with men!” someone shouted from behind.

”Idiot, he boy still. No drink!” came another voice, followed by what sounded like a light smack.

The sorceress pressed a small pouch of herbs into his hand. ”For good dreams,” she said.

Huh?

Children tugged at his clothes, asking in broken trade speech if he’d show them more magic next time. One small girl clutched his leg until her mother pried her away, scolding gently in their tongue.

Finally, after what felt like a hundred handshakes and back-slaps and promises to return, Adom managed to extract himself from the warmth of the camp.

They walked along the shoreline, waves lapping at their feet, the drums of the Veyshari camp fading into a distant heartbeat.

The moon cast silver streaks across the dark water, and neither spoke for a while.

”Sam was supposed to be the quiet, shy one,” Morgana said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. ”Seems you both share that trait after all.”

”I prefer ’reserved,’” Adom corrected with mock dignity. ”It sounds more dignified.”

They both chuckled, the sound mixing with the rhythm of the waves.

”You can ask, you know,” she said after another moment. ”I know you well enough by now to recognize that look. Curiosity - terrible habit, really.”

”Well... if you insist.” Adom kicked at a bit of wet sand. ”How exactly did end up cursed? And, why? And more importantly, by whom?”

Morgana’s steps slowed.

Instead of answering immediately, she walked to the water’s edge, where the waves lapped gently at her feet. She knelt down, peering at her reflection in the moonlit water. A small gasp escaped her lips.

”Is something wrong?” Adom asked, moving closer.

”No, no...” She touched her face gently, watching her reflection ripple in the water. ”It’s just... the last time I saw my own face, I was ten years old.” Her voice grew soft. ”I look so much like my mother now.”

She sat down in the sand, not seeming to mind that the waves occasionally reached her dress. After a moment, she patted the space beside her. Adom hesitated briefly, then sat down too.

”What year is it now?” she asked suddenly, still studying her reflection.

”847,” Adom replied.

Morgana was quiet for a moment, doing the math in her head. ”So I’m twenty-one now...” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She ran her fingers through her hair, seeming fascinated by its length. ”Eleven years as an animal. No wonder everything feels so... strange.”

”I can imagine...” Adom said. Still waiting for her to answer the questions.

”The ’who’ doesn’t matter anymore,” she said, watching the waves. ”As for the how and why...” A slight smile touched her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. ”Let’s just say I made some people very angry by existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She glanced at him, then back at the ocean. ”Sometimes the safest thing to be is a cat in a crowd of people who are looking for a girl.”

”But why would anyone curse a ten year old?”

Morgana chuckled softly. ”You know, in all these years, you’re the first person who’s actually helped me without asking too many questions.”

She was deflecting the question, it seemed.

Morgana drew patterns in the wet sand with her finger. ”Most people want something. Information, favors... but you just saw a puma in trouble and decided to help. Even took me to a curse-breaker.”

”Well,” he said, ”I was mostly curious about who or what might have been behind that curse.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and her expression softened. ”Thank you for that. For everything. The food, the shelter, even that dreadful bath after the mud puddle incident.”

Adom felt his ears burn at the memory, but she just laughed.

”Don’t worry about it. Cats don’t really care about modesty.”

They both laughed at that.

”What will you do now? Where will you go?” Adom asked after their laughter faded.

”Oh, somewhere. Anywhere.” She smiled more genuinely now. ”It’s been a long time since I could go wherever I wanted.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, much like she used to bump her head against it when she was a cat. ”Don’t worry about me. I’m quite good at landing on my feet.”

She stood up, brushing sand from her dress. ”Though I must admit, I’ll miss our little chats, little mage. Even if they were rather one-sided.”

”Are you planning to go with the Veyshari?”

”Well, they seem like quite the welcoming people.” Morgana said, glancing back toward the distant firelight. ”I could see some places that way.”

”Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

Morgana tilted her head, studying him with that feline curiosity. ”You sound like you want to tag along.”

”I want to travel,” Adom admitted. ”At the end of the year, when we choose our paths... I’m going for Battle Mage. And for practical experience, I’m thinking of asking to leave school for a while. Get an adventurer’s license, be more free to move around. See some things in the world, you know?”

”That sounds like a good plan...”

”They won’t leave until first snow,” Adom said. ”That’s still some time away. Maybe I could... visit again?”

”I’d like that.”

Adom stood up, brushing sand from his clothes. ”I should go before the Strider leaves without me.”

”Tell Sam I said hi,” Morgana called after him.

”I’d rather not. He’d freak out if he knew you were...” Adom trailed off.

Morgana put her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. ”If I were...?”

”Well... a lady.”

She laughed. ”Bye, little mage.”

”Bye, Kitty Cat.”

Which, oddly enough, didn’t feel weird at all. Unless you thought about it.

*****

The Strider’s silhouette loomed against the moonlit beach, its legs shifting restlessly in the sand. The young man tending to it perked up at Adom’s approach.

”Oh, you came! Was just about to leave, actually.”

”Thanks for waiting,” Adom said, climbing onto the cart. The wood creaked under his weight.

The young man’s eyes scanned the beach behind Adom. ”Where’s your cat? The black one you came with?”

”She... said she’d like to stay.”

”The cat... said?” The young man’s brow furrowed, but after a moment he just shrugged and clicked his tongue. The Strider lurched forward, its chitinous legs finding purchase in the loose sand.

The rhythmic swaying of the cart and the soft whisper of waves gradually faded into white noise. Adom leaned back, letting his thoughts drift through the day’s events. The curse-breaking ceremony kept replaying in his mind - the blood runes, the sacrifice, Morgana emerging from the smoke...

He shook his head. That was one mystery solved, at least. Though ’solved’ might be too strong a word. Morgana clearly had her secrets - big ones, dark ones. The kind that got ten-year-olds turned into cats. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to pull on that particular thread. Well, he did, but...

Better to focus on more pressing matters. The puma problem was officially off his mental checklist. Now there was the Eren case, and the new lead with the Law grimoire. Giants. He’d have to check the library for any information about their runic systems. Though really, how much could he accomplish here at school? By next year, he’d be free to travel, to search for answers firsthand. After dealing with Dragon’s Breath, of course.

The cart hit a bump, jolting him from his thoughts. Right. The cure. Something was definitely wrong with Cisco’s situation - he could feel it in his gut. Maybe it was time to seriously consider alternative solutions.

Actually... this might work out perfectly. Tomorrow was Alchemy with Professor Mirwen. Perhaps he could start laying the groundwork for another approach to the cure.

His system interface flickered at the edge of his vision:

Time Remaining: 1 month, 28 days, 14 hours, 45 minutes

Good. No big deal. Things would go smoothly. Positive thoughts.

Adom yawned, his eyelids growing heavy as the cart swayed. Everything would be alright. Everything would be...

His head nodded forward as sleep took him, the Strider’s steady gait carrying him back toward Xerkes under the watching moon.