Chapter 10: Chapter 10: The Elf’s Disguise

Chapter 10: The Elf’s Disguise

Lily sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, staring into the shimmering skill list that floated before her like a holographic HUD. Her crimson eyes flicked back and forth between two glowing icons.

[Transform] and [Illusion]

It should have been simple. Pick one, slap on a disguise, done. But nothing in this world was ever that simple.

She closed her eyes and focused, letting mana pool in her palm. The moment she concentrated, the same strange thing happened again—knowledge unfurled in her mind, like a flower opening its petals. Not just the tooltip description, but the mechanics. The entire scaffolding of the spell pressed itself into her thoughts, every line of runes and how to weave them.

That was the unnerving part.

These weren’t just “skills” anymore, like in Xantia. They weren’t icons you pressed for an effect. They were spells, engraved into her brain as if she’d studied them for years.

And that’s why she knew, she needed both.

[Transform] would alter her body itself: her horns vanished, her skin tone shifted, and her ears reshaped. It was not a mask, but a true shift. Which made it much harder for anyone to see through.

[Illusion], meanwhile, was the costume department. Clothes, armor, accessories—those weren’t affected by transformation. So, if she didn’t want to walk into town looking like a demoness in a gothic gown, she’d need [Illusion] layered on top to alter her appearance.

She could have gone with [Illusion] alone, but that was risky. A pry skill or some truth-detection could tear it apart in an instant. And worse, illusions tended to crumble in battle. One good hit, and her cover might fall apart right in front of everyone.

[Transform], though… that was different. That was real. Unless someone had some absurd soul-reading ability, no one would see through it.

Still, there was a snag. Lily rubbed her temples. Of course, there’s a snag.

Yes, she was max level. But her class [Hellweaver (Demon Spellblade)] wasn’t a pure mage class. It was a hybrid-class. Sure, she had magic, plenty of it, but most of her spells were built for fighting: offensive bursts, mobility tricks, a bit of utility on the side. Not the flexible, high-level shapeshifting you’d expect from a dedicated mage.

Back in Xantia, you could learn anything you wanted, in theory. Every skill, every spell. But things outside your class cost a hell of a lot more effort.

[Skill Points]—SP—were the currency for learning anything. You earned them from training, quests, grinding day after day. You also got them from leveling up, but SP could be gained independently too, so you could keep growing your character long after hitting the official max level.

The cost, though, depended on your class. Skills that matched your class were cheap. Anything outside of it? Triple, quadruple, and sometimes even worse.

That was how the system called itself ‘realistic.’ You could learn whatever you wanted, with infinite potential to grow, but if it wasn’t your ‘talent’, you had to bleed for it.

That’s why she’d gone Spellsword in the first place. She started as a plain Warrior, then built herself into something flexible. Magic for offense, but the durability of a blade in hand. She’d learned just enough out-of-class magic to make it competitive, but she’d never gone full mage.

Which left her with a problem.

She’d never once bothered to learn how to transform into a human. Why would she? She was human, outside of the game. Why waste SP on something so pointless?

The only Transform variants she’d ever bothered with were for roleplay. A couple of berserk monster forms for raids. And, for fun, a few vanity morphs.

Her lips twisted.

Her RP collection boiled down to two forms: a tall, ethereal elf princess with ears long enough to shame Legolas, and a skeletal, high-drama lich queen version of herself.

The elf princess she’d used in tavern scenes. The lich queen? That one was for Halloween events and edgy drama nights.

She covered her face with both hands and groaned into her palms. “So, my options are Legolas’s cousin… or Skeletor’s hot sister... Oh come on.”

Going as a lich queen would make the whole idea of a disguise pointless. Nothing screamed ‘monster’ louder than a walking corpse bride. So, elf princess it was.

At least Sevrin had mentioned that elves actually existed in this kingdom. What did he say? Something like, “there are a few elves and dwarves here and there…” Yeah. So, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Right?

Lily groaned.

Her hands dropped into her lap, eyes fixed on the glowing circles forming in the air, mana spilling from her fingertips like it had a will of its own. She shaped the circles carefully, adjusting the runes one by one until they matched the form she wanted. They were ready to cast.

The elf form wasn’t perfect. She could already imagine Sevrin making smug “chosen one” speeches the moment she showed up looking too majestic. Still, it beat walking around with horns and glowing red eyes. At least elves were something people recognized, something that wouldn’t get her stabbed on sight.

And with [Illusion] woven on top, she could at least tone down the gown into something a little less princess of eternal gloom and a little more traveler chic.

She rose and walked to the mirror. Staring back at her was Lilithia Nocturne—flawless, cruel, with crimson eyes that still glowed faintly in the morning gloom.

“Alright,” she muttered. “Time to cosplay my own RP alt.”

She raised her hands, tracing the runes into the air with her mana. The first circle she created before flared into existence again, each line a thread pulling her body taut.

The change rippled over her like water poured over wax. Horns shrank, vanishing into golden hair that tumbled past her shoulders. Her skin lightened, a faint sheen like polished marble. Her eyes shifted from crimson to a luminous green, wide and luminous. Her ears stretched long, sharp, and elegant.

The Demon Princess vanished, and in her place stood the Elf Princess.

Lily tilted her head, studying herself in the mirror. The transformation was flawless. Flesh and bone, altered down to the last detail.

“Not bad,” she admitted. “Not bad at all.”

Then she glanced at her dress. The same black gothic number, clashing violently with her new features.

“Right. Costume department.”

She pulled up [Illusion], weaving the other circle she prepared. Her gown shimmered, threads unraveling into light, reweaving themselves into a new shape.

The end result: a long, elegant green dress, embroidered with faint silver patterns. Flowing, dignified. The kind of thing an elf noblewoman might wear strolling through a forest glade.

Lily groaned. “Great. I look like I just walked out of a Tolkien fan convention. Should’ve gone with trousers.”

Still, it worked. At least no one would see a demoness striding down the road.

She practiced a few expressions in the mirror—smug smile, serene nod, aloof eyebrow raise. It was disturbingly natural. She’d roleplayed this character often enough in taverns and guild halls that slipping into the mannerisms felt like putting on old gloves.

She turned from the mirror with a flick of her hand, banishing the skill menu.

Time to face the idiots.

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…

Lily stepped out of the mansion, the morning air cool against her skin. The cultists had camped a short walk away by the lake. It wasn’t far, and honestly, the stroll was nice.

The lake sparkled just as beautifully in the daylight as it had under the stars. The clearing where her mansion stood was broad, enough space for more buildings if she wanted. But did she even want to stay here? She had no idea if this forest belonged to someone—or some kingdom. Sure, she was buried pretty deep in the woods, but trouble had a way of finding people whether they asked for it or not. Maybe that was just her Xantia brain talking, but still.

She closed her eyes, tilted her face to the sun, and just listened. Birds, the rustle of leaves, the ripple of water. Strangely calming. Another reminder that this wasn’t a game anymore.

After a few minutes of strolling, voices reached her.

She slowed, watching them before they noticed her. Two fish sizzled over the magical campfire, skewered and turning slowly above the flames while the biggest of the cultists kept watch on them. A boy and a girl hovered close, clearly twins. Lily sighed inwardly. Maybe she should actually bother to learn the names of everyone in her cult. Marie—the one who had spoken up yesterday and, by sheer luck, had twisted Lily’s demand for eternal servitude into just ten years of babysitting duty—sat nearby, quietly watching the others work.

The rest of their camp was nothing impressive. No tents, nor shelter, just the glow of the [Campfire Stone] and the grass beneath them.

Lily sighed inwardly. A tiny pinch of guilt twisted in her chest. They’d spent the night under the stars while she’d been cozy in her oversized gothic bed. But another thought rose, sharper and more bitter: They are only NPCs and do worms really deserve better?

Either way, the day wasn’t going to wait for her.

“Nice camp you’ve got here,” she called.

The effect was immediate; everyone froze, tools dropped, eyes widened, Marie’s hands halted mid-turn.

Amusement curled at Lily’s lips. She could practically see their brains scrambling. The big one, slowly reached for his weapon. Sevrin, of course, had already begun muttering under his breath, his fingers twitching like he was ready to throw a spell at her.

Lily rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was for these idiots to start a fight with her because they didn’t recognize her new look.

“I’m here to pick you up for our town trip,” she said smoothly, her tone just sharp enough to cut through their panic.

The cultists looked confused at first, glancing at each other like startled chickens. Then Sevrin suddenly dropped to one knee and bowed low.

“My unholyness!” he blurted.

Lily choked on her own breath. My what? Not this crap again.

The others scrambled to follow his lead, heads pressing toward the dirt.

She cleared her throat pointedly.

Sevrin froze, then corrected himself in a hurry. “My… lady.”

“Better,” Lily muttered, giving him a short nod. She didn’t miss the looks on their faces though, wide eyes, flicking between her long ears, her pale skin, her green eyes. The question why is she an elf now? was written across all of them in letters ten feet tall.

She rolled her eyes inwardly. Yeah, I know I look different, geniuses. Congratulations on noticing. Out loud, she simply said, “For our little field trip today, I thought it would be better to disguise myself.”

Sevrin bobbed his head eagerly. “Indeed, wise choice, my lady.”

“Anyway,” Lily said, waving her hand dismissively, “who’s coming with me today?”

Sevrin immediately stepped forward, chest puffed out like a proud rooster. Marie followed after a moment, calmer but just as determined.

Lily raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no shocker. Sevrin out here trying to speedrun becoming some budget overlord, while Marie’s basically the squad’s only support keeping the whole party from wiping. Classic.

“Fine,” Lily said. “Then here’s a reminder—you’re buying necessities. Food, tools, clothes, whatever you need to keep yourselves alive without mooching off me. I’ve already paid you.”

Her eyes scanned over their faces, watching their reactions carefully. Let’s see how they take that. ‘I paid you already’ is a pretty final line.

But to her surprise, nobody looked upset. No grumbling, no whining. Just nods.

Huh. Guess tossing a Mithril Crown at them really did the trick. Maybe too much. Damn it. Did I overpay?

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Whatever. I’ll figure out the real value myself. Can’t trust low-lifes like these to explain economics anyway.

A hesitant voice broke the moment.

“My lady?” Marie asked softly.

Lily looked at her. “What is it?”

“Sorry if I may ask but… how are we going to town? And…” Marie hesitated, her eyes flicking briefly to Sevrin before back to Lily. “…to which town are we going?”

Lily froze for half a second. Oh. Right. The part where I don’t even know if there’s a town nearby. Nice catch, Marie.

She crossed her arms, masking her pause behind a thoughtful look. “To the nearest one, obviously. Wherever that is.”

The cultists blinked at her.

She gave them a sharp smile. “But don’t worry. I’ll find it. That’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”

Sevrin thumped a hand to his chest. “Of course, my lady. Your will shall guide us.”

God, he’s unbearable. If he licks my boots any harder, I’ll slip and fall.

“Good,” Lily said flatly. “Then let’s get moving. We’re wasting daylight.”

Lily looked between Marie and Sevrin. “You two ready?”

Both nodded quickly.

But instead of turning around and marching down some dirt path, Lily crouched and began tracing runes into the air. The glow of a forming magic circle spread across the ground beneath her boots.

Of course, she didn’t know where the nearest town was. She wasn’t about to wander aimlessly through the forest like some lost tourist. Sure, she knew the general direction of where she had first picked up the cultists, and there had been some kind of settlement nearby. But that had been a tiny village, not a town. And she wasn’t about to stroll back there with her new ‘minions’ in tow.

No, she needed an actual town. Somewhere with a market. Somewhere she could test the economy, check supplies, maybe even figure out just how badly she’d overpaid them with that Mithril Crown.

And she had just the skill for it.

The runes locked into place, the circle humming faintly with mana.

For Lily, there was only one catch with this skill. She had said she would take two of them to town today, not because she didn’t trust them and wanted hostages—frankly, it would’ve been easier if they just ran off and never came back—but because she had the same problem she’d run into earlier this morning. She wasn’t a pure mage. And she definitely wasn’t a support mage.

The runes on the ground began to glow brighter as she wove them together. The spell she needed was called [Town Call]. In Xantia, it was a classic dungeon escape skill. With a cooldown of twelve hours, you could teleport yourself and your party to the nearest town with a commercial district. Then you could restock, take a breather, and cast it again to return to the exact spot in the dungeon where you left off. Handy, even with the cooldown. Every serious party made sure at least one member had it maxed.

Of course, Lily hadn’t maxed it. She never bothered. As a [Hellweaver], she’d always relied on someone else in the raid to have the skill capped. Her version only covered herself and two party members and had the maximum cool down of 12 hours.

Still. It was more than enough.

She flicked her wrist, finishing the circle. “Alright, you two. In the circle. Now.”

Marie and Sevrin exchanged a glance, then hurried forward, standing at her sides.

Lily’s hand hovered over the glowing runes. Time to find out if this world still plays by Xantia’s rules… or if I’m about to blow myself up trying.

She pressed her palm down.

The circle flared, runes burning bright.

[Town Call]

And the world began to shift around them.

☽⛧☾

Sevrin was excited. Thrilled, even. Sure, not everything had gone according to plan… but still, they had done it. They had freed the Princess of the Abyss, the very being promised in the Abyssal Tome.

Even if she hadn’t agreed to their original scheme—to kill the king and tear down the nobility—she had granted them their reward. Three wishes. Exactly as the tome had said.

Maybe it had been bad manners to try to bind her the moment she appeared, but what else had he been supposed to do? She was a demon, after all. The tome had mentioned binding rituals, and he had at least wanted to try. He suspected that was why she had twisted the wish contract into a punishment, binding them to servitude for ten years instead of obeying unconditionally. A fitting rebuke, perhaps.

But still, she had accepted their excuse. And Marie, of all people, had stepped in at just the right moment to phrase their wishes. At the time, Sevrin had been annoyed. She had stolen his chance to negotiate directly. But after sleeping on it, he realized it wasn’t such a bad move. Their souls remained intact, and they still gained strength and wealth. In truth, it was more than he’d expected.

He could work with this.

No, he could rise with this.

In his mind, he could already see it: himself at the Princess’s side, extending her reach across the mortal world. As one of her first servants, his place was secured. He would manage her kingdom, her armies, her endless dominion. She would need loyal, clever lieutenants. And who better than him? The leader of the group that had freed her. Wealth and power would flow into his hands.

The kingdom of Burm would tremble. The academy that had expelled him would regret the day they mocked him. His family would no longer be the scorned house of a failed student, but the bloodline of the Princess’s right hand.

Sevrin’s chest swelled with pride as he watched her. Disguised now as an elf, she walked with regal grace. A perfect transformation. He knew, as a former academy student, just how impossible that should have been. Race transformation magic was rare and crude. Even Skinwalkers, with their twisted arts, could never produce such a flawless copy.

Which meant only one thing: she had killed a legendary elven princess and stolen her very skin. He shivered at the thought. What delicious, terrifying power.

Yes. He had chosen well.

The magic circle flared, and he stepped into it with Marie at his side. The world lurched, his stomach twisting as light swallowed him whole. In the span of a heartbeat, everything changed.

When his vision cleared, he staggered. The sickness passed, and he realized they stood a mile from a great city. Towering walls loomed ahead, stone thick and unyielding. Inside, golden roofs caught the morning light. A massive gate yawned open, welcoming a stream of travelers. Wagons rolled forward, merchants shouting, farmers leading carts, guards checking papers at the entrance.

Marie’s breath hitched. “That’s… Tiara. The capital of the northern duchy, Valtiara.”

Sevrin’s eyes widened. The Jewel of the North.

So this was Tiara. He hadn’t realized it was so close to their old hideout near the border. Or maybe it wasn’t close at all. They had no way of knowing how far the Princess’s magic had dragged them when she answered the summoning. But one thing was clear: they were still within the kingdom of Burm.

The Princess turned, her face unreadable. “Alright. We meet here again in twelve hours. Don’t be late, or I leave without you.”

And without another word, she strode toward the gates, her golden hair flashing in the sun.

Sevrin felt the urge to follow immediately, but Marie’s hand caught his arm.

Was she crazy to grab him like that? He turned, ready to snap at her, but then he met her eyes. The steady, unflinching look there cooled the words in his throat. His annoyance faltered, the heat draining out of him before it could spark. For the first time in days, he hesitated.