# Magic, Mishaps, and Moral Flexibility
Ivan's philosophical moment of self-reflection was interrupted by the sound of voices approaching through the forest—human voices, speaking what his universal communication ability identified as the local common tongue, though their accent suggested they'd learned it from someone who'd learned it from someone who'd probably never spoken it correctly in the first place.
"I'm telling you, Marcus, the tracks lead this way," came the first voice, rough and gravelly like its owner had been gargling with crushed glass for recreational purposes.
"And I'm telling you, Derek, that those weren't normal wolf tracks," replied the second voice, slightly higher pitched and carrying the kind of nervous energy that suggested its owner jumped at shadows and apologized to furniture when he bumped into it. "They were too big, too deep, and they changed pattern halfway through. Something's not right."
Ivan's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of heavy boots squelching through the mud left by the traffic rhino migration, accompanied by the metallic clanking that suggested armor, weapons, or possibly just a really poor sense of fashion involving excessive chainmail.
His newly acquired predatory instincts immediately began calculating escape routes, while his enhanced survival instincts started screaming warnings that roughly translated to "humans with weapons and tracking skills are significantly more dangerous than shadow cats with attitude problems." This was problematic, since Ivan had just used up most of his daily excitement quota on not being eaten by something that looked like it belonged in a nightmare bestiary.
Moving with his newly acquired stealth skills, Ivan positioned himself behind a conveniently large tree and activated his adaptive camouflage ability. The sensation was like having his entire body become very interested in blending with the local décor, which in this case meant bark, moss, and the general aesthetic of "definitely not a wolf hiding behind a tree."
Two figures emerged from the forest, and Ivan's first thought was that fantasy worlds apparently had the same employment standards for adventurers as modern cities had for taxi drivers—which was to say, none whatsoever.
The first man, presumably Derek, looked like he'd been carved from granite by a sculptor who'd run out of time to add details like "charm" or "personal hygiene." He was tall, broad, and equipped with enough weapons to single-handedly declare war on a small country. His armor had seen better days, possibly several decades ago, and bore the kind of dents and scratches that suggested its owner had been using it for activities more violent than fashion statements.
His companion Marcus was shorter, thinner, and possessed the kind of nervous energy that made hummingbirds look calm and collected. He carried a staff topped with what appeared to be a crystal that pulsed with soft blue light, marking him as either a wizard or someone with very expensive taste in walking sticks.
"The trail ends here," Derek announced, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who had never been wrong about anything and wasn't planning to start now. He knelt beside the churned earth where Ivan had fought the shadow cat, running his fingers through the disturbed soil with the expertise of someone who tracked things for a living.
"That's... concerning," Marcus replied, his staff's crystal pulsing brighter as he waved it around like he was trying to conduct an invisible orchestra. "I'm detecting residual magical energy. Something absorbed a significant amount of skill-based knowledge here. Recently."
Ivan's blood—or whatever wolves used instead of blood, he was still unclear on the biological details—ran cold. His skill absorption had left magical traces that could be detected. This was the kind of information that would have been useful to know before he'd spent ten minutes downloading combat techniques from a homicidal shadow cat.
"Skill absorption?" Derek frowned, which made his already intimidating face look like it was planning to file a complaint with the manager of reality. "That's rare magic. Expensive magic. The kind of thing that usually comes with significant strings attached."
"Or significant natural talent," Marcus added, his nervous energy ratcheting up another notch. "There are creatures born with that kind of ability. Apex predators, usually. The kind that start out as one thing and end up as something much more dangerous."
"Great," Derek muttered. "So we're either tracking a creature that's going to evolve into something that can kill us, or we're tracking something that's already evolved into something that can kill us. I love my job."
Ivan had to admit that Derek's assessment was depressingly accurate. His transformation from traffic-accident victim to competent predator was apparently more dramatic than he'd realized, and definitely more detectable. This was probably another one of those catches he'd been expecting—his abilities came with magical signatures that advertised his presence to anyone with the right equipment and a professional interest in dangerous creatures.
Marcus continued waving his staff around, and the crystal's pulsing became more agitated. "The magical residue is... odd. It's not completely animalistic. There's something else mixed in, something that feels almost..." He paused, frowning. "Human."
"Human?" Derek's voice carried the kind of skepticism usually reserved for politicians making campaign promises. "Marcus, you've been hitting the mystical herbs again, haven't you? Humans don't have skill absorption. Humans barely have skills to begin with."
"I'm serious! There's definitely human-pattern thinking mixed with predatory instincts. It's like someone took a human consciousness and stuffed it into a creature body, then gave it abilities that should be impossible." Marcus's voice was rising with excitement, which Ivan found deeply concerning.
"So what you're telling me," Derek said slowly, "is that we're tracking something that thinks like a human but fights like an apex predator and can steal abilities from other creatures?"
"That's... actually a remarkably accurate summary, yes."
"Wonderful. And here I thought this was going to be a boring contract."
Ivan's mind raced through the implications of what he was hearing. These were clearly some kind of professional hunters or trackers, possibly adventurers of the traditional fantasy variety who made their living finding dangerous things and either killing them or dragging them back to whoever was paying for the service. The fact that they were tracking him specifically was problematic on multiple levels.
His enhanced strategic thinking ability—which was apparently working overtime today—began calculating options. He could try to lose them in the forest, but Derek seemed competent at tracking and Marcus could detect magical signatures. He could try to fight them, but his combat experience consisted of one encounter with a shadow cat and a brief diplomatic negotiation with territorial wolves. Neither seemed like adequate preparation for facing armed professionals.
Or he could try something that was either brilliant or suicidally stupid, which in Ivan's experience were often the same thing.
His apex mimicry ability had allowed him to copy the wolves' physical capabilities. His skill absorption had let him learn from the shadow cat's combat techniques. But he'd been thinking too small. Both abilities worked on observation and interaction—and he'd been observing and interacting with these humans for several minutes now.
Ivan focused on Derek, studying the way the man moved, the confidence in his posture, the professional competence that radiated from every gesture. This was someone who had spent years mastering the art of tracking, hunting, and surviving in dangerous environments. Someone whose skills would be extremely useful for a displaced ex-human trying to navigate a fantasy world filled with things that wanted to eat him.
The skill absorption process began immediately, knowledge flowing into Ivan's consciousness like water filling an empty vessel. Tracking techniques, wilderness survival, combat tactics, weapon handling, and dozens of other abilities that Derek had spent years mastering. It was like downloading the contents of a survival manual written by someone who'd actually used every technique in it.
But Derek's skills came with something else—memories. Not complete memories, Ivan's abilities weren't quite that invasive, but emotional impressions and contextual knowledge that provided framework for the skills he was absorbing. He learned that Derek was a bounty hunter, that he specialized in tracking magical creatures, and that he had very strong opinions about the proper way to skin various monsters for maximum profit.
More importantly, Ivan learned that Derek and Marcus were working for someone who collected rare magical creatures for purposes that Derek preferred not to think about too closely, because the pay was excellent and moral flexibility was a job requirement in their line of work.
This information should have been reassuring—Ivan now possessed the skills of a professional tracker and survivor. Instead, it was deeply disturbing, because those same skills were telling him that he was exactly the kind of rare magical creature their employer would be very interested in acquiring.
While Ivan was having his existential crisis about becoming the thing he was hiding from, Marcus's magical detection was becoming more agitated. The crystal atop his staff was now pulsing rapidly, and his nervous energy had escalated to the point where he was practically vibrating.
"Derek," Marcus said, his voice tight with excitement and terror, "whatever we're tracking is still here. Close. And it's..." He paused, staring at his staff in confusion. "It's actively using magic right now. Skill absorption magic."
Derek's hand moved to his sword with the kind of casual motion that suggested it was a well-practiced reflex. "How close?"
"Very close. Maybe thirty feet. And Derek?" Marcus's voice cracked slightly. "I think it's been watching us."
Ivan realized that his skill absorption had been generating the same kind of magical signature that had led them to his fight with the shadow cat. He was essentially broadcasting his location to anyone with magical detection abilities, which seemed like a significant design flaw in what was supposed to be a helpful ability.
On the positive side, he now possessed Derek's considerable tracking and survival skills, which were already providing him with detailed tactical assessments of his current situation. On the negative side, those same skills were informing him that he was about to be discovered by two professionals who made their living capturing creatures exactly like him.
"Well," Ivan muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper, "this is either going to go very well or very badly. And given my luck, I'm betting on badly."
Derek was now scanning the surrounding forest with the methodical precision of someone who'd done this many times before, while Marcus continued to use his staff like the world's most anxiety-inducing dowsing rod.
Ivan's camouflage was still active, but he suspected it wouldn't hold up under professional scrutiny for much longer. His newly acquired tracking skills were informing him that Derek was examining the exact tree he was hiding behind with increasing interest.
Time for either brilliance or suicidal stupidity. Possibly both.