Stepping back from the easel, Xander regarded his most recent painting with a critical eye. He had spent hours on this creation and was absolutely thrilled with how it had turned out. The canvas and pigments were decidedly non-traditional, composed of grown vines and crushed up toxic mushrooms respectively, making it easily the most deadly painting he had ever created. Having guided the canvas’s growth himself, the vines gave depth to the art, making the gothic horror seem like it could leap out and grab the viewer.

  Smirking to himself, he supposed that he could technically make it do just that with his magic powers since it was still alive. Even the easel had been grown from the roots of a nearby tree and was still active. It had been about a week since his first fight as a Dungeon Lord, and it had taken nearly this entire time to just relax and be at peace with himself. In fact, if he wasn’t much mistaken, this break had already been the same length as the rest of the time he had spent on Gaellus.

  Looking down at his ‘paint’ covered hands, a genuine smile broke out as he finally felt relaxed. There was sure to be a lot of work and more dangers to face in the future, but for now he still had some more time to himself. Even though he technically didn’t need to breathe anymore, he still took in a deep breath of air, held it, and then let it out slowly as he languidly wiped at the splashes of color staining his skin.

  It was remarkably freeing to not need to eat, sleep, or be otherwise much concerned with having to maintain his body. Xander looked down at himself, still wearing the clothing Reggie had made for him, and considered what he wanted to do next. He hadn’t only painted during the last couple days, but had also done some reading about dryads and research about the rest of Gaellus. As it turned out, there were plenty of ways that magic could alter people, including shifting their race, minds, and of course gender.

  Some druids obtained the ability to shift their shapes into animals, though that was incredibly rare and high level. A few dryads could alter their shape at will, controlling their plant based bodies with magic, usually to increase their size or lethality. If he could continue leveling up, there was a good chance that he could eventually use one of those abilities to return to what he once was, at least visually. That knowledge had helped Xander relax even more as he enjoyed the quiet and peaceful halls of his new home.

  He had also talked more with both Ma’ha’Zhanaeus and Mr. Sinclair as well, finding his oak’s presence comforting and the D.I.E.'s knowledge and reliability useful. With time to think instead of merely reacting as he scrabbled to survive until the next fight, Xander had confirmed to himself his decision to accept as much of his new self as possible. Taking one more look at his magnificent new artwork, he decided that it was finally time to stop procrastinating and get properly acquainted with himself.

  Striding through the halls, he headed back to the small grove where his bond stood, and to the pool of water at its center. Tightly woven vines had been grown together to form what was essentially a kiddie pool a dozen feet across, and rain the previous day had dripped down through the canopy-like ceiling above to fill it enough for his purposes. Its undisturbed surface was the best mirror that he could get without going into the city.

  Leaning over the waters, Xander stared intently at the stranger reflected back to him. She wasn’t what anyone from his world would consider a supermodel, but she did have a strange sort of beauty to her. Wild dark green hair tumbled in unkempt tangles down to frame a face that he had to admit was pretty. Violet eyes stared back at him, almost glowing with the intensity of their vibrance. Her skin was smooth, with a smallish nose and pursed dark mauve lips. he thought with a chuckle. When the woman in the water smiled, it lit up her face, and she no longer looked like a mean girl, but almost like the gentle tree hugger she was supposed to be.

  The plant based clothes she wore were on the loose side, but still didn’t hide the feminine figure beneath. She had a build that was more athletic than anything Xander had ever maintained back on Earth, but still had plenty of curve to her hips and a modest chest. She didn’t look particularly like a walking tree the way Reggie did; she appeared to be just a green skinned human. As he leaned in closer to examine more, his hanging hair brushed the surface, and the ripples distorted the image. With a shake of his head, Xander stood back up, lost in consideration.

   he thought to himself, not willing to say it out loud even though he was basically alone. Some embarrassment at his own thoughts crept up, but he swatted the feeling away with little effort. “Fuck it…” he said softly to himself. “I’m going to be stuck like this for a long time, I’ve got to get over this.”

  Xander straightened, and a quick burst of light green magic caused his clothes to expand enough that they slid down his body to puddle at his feet. Stepping out of them, he headed off towards a patch of reasonably comfortable looking ground with bemused purpose.

  —---------------------

  Some time later, laying sprawled under his oak with an embarrassed but still highly satisfied glow of pleasure suffusing him, Xander reflected that he had been an idiot. It certainly wasn’t the first time that he had come to that conclusion, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last either. He let out an amused and slightly breathy giggle, and reached out mentally to the tree he was half propped against. he sent.

   came back the amused sounding reply. He would have flushed if he could, but continued anyway.

   he asked with awkward curiosity.

   the Caretaker responded dryly,

  Xander blinked at the logic, but then snorted

  Caretaker gave a mental shrug.

  Xander didn’t respond, instead just leaning against his oak’s trunk while he sorted through his thoughts. He admitted to himself that he had been heavily biased before, and probably more sexist than he’d realized. With his little journey of self exploration completed, he had to admit that being a woman wasn’t that terrible. Really digging into his feelings, Xander tried to let go of his preconceptions and really think about what he wanted.

  Foremost was still his desire to return home to his family and friends, but even that had dulled somewhat. Fighting for his life had been scary and painful, but there had also been an adrenaline laced edge to it, whether or not he actually still had adrenaline. Besides that, he had magic now, and had healed from injuries that would have been fatal to his old self. He had been killed by a damned vending machine as a human, but was still alive here after having his head chopped off as a dryad.

  On Gaellus he wouldn’t have to worry about money either, not really. His dungeon would be the roof over his head, the sun his nourishment, and he could spend as much time as he wanted just creating art. The struggles he would have faced on earth would have been… a slow and relentless grinding away of his spirit by comparison.

  Would it really be so bad to embrace this world? Sure, there was danger, and he was stuck with being a woman for years at the least, but how much did it actually matter to him anymore? Xander let his hands trail over his still sensitive body, bringing a small smile to his lips. Apparently it didn't matter nearly as much as it used to, all of a few days ago. He still thought of himself as a guy, and didn’t think his orientation had changed, but it felt as though he was ready to accept that he had changed from a gangly and awkward human guy to a relatively pretty dryad girl.

  This realization came as something of a shock to him, and he frowned when he considered that he had only been conscious for around two weeks total. Wasn’t that kind of fast for someone to just accept a forced gender swap on top of everything else? Caretaker’s statement about instincts replayed in his perfect memory, followed by information from his schooling about health and human anatomy. Every species was built for survival. For most species on Earth, that included the drive to reproduce, which meant that most people were straight. As a dryad though, he probably wouldn’t have that same DNA level drive, even if he had memories of it.

  “So I guess either weird brain chemistry or magic is smoothing over the transition…” he muttered without any real irritation. Xander closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the grove, the tranquility of the quiet afternoon settling over him with the simple action. Instead of being angry or scared about the thought of his instincts being so thoroughly changed, he felt more at peace than he had in a long time. Even more so than he had been back at home, perhaps. After a time, he snorted and stood up, stretching languidly. “Guess the cure for being an awkward guy was to die and get reincarnated as a magical plant chick.”

   came Caretaker’s amused mental voice,

  “Hey, just because I don’t want to swan around naked all the time doesn’t mean I’m awkward” Xander retorted.

   the oak asked mischievously.

  Xander didn’t get upset, instead just rolling his eyes “No, you may not. It’s Lord Xander to you, minion. Laughter filtered across their link, and he smiled to himself before dressing and wandering off to find something else to do.

  —---------------------------

  The next several days were just as relaxing and stress free as Xander could have ever wished. Being mostly at peace with himself gave him renewed energy and purpose. He was free to read and do art at his leisure, and even spent time meditating inside his oak. Communing with nature and himself brought a surprising amount of new perspective, the pressures and expectations of his old society no longer as important. He knew that he would eventually be required to fight and kill again, but that didn’t worry him as much as it once had.

  The rules of Gaellus were different, and for better or worse, he was not just someone who lived here, but a Dungeon Lord. His decapitation and subsequent revival had really driven that home like nothing else could have. Talking to Mr. Sinclair one day, he asked about the seeming brutality of the cycle. “You’ve said before that the whole point of the System is to make everyone stronger, but I don’t see how that can be the case if adventurers and Dungeon Lords alike keep killing each other. Wouldn’t that make a lot of waste?”

  “At a certain level, yes it does but the process is efficient enough that with every death there is still growth overall.”

  “How can that be? I don’t really like thinking about it, but I killed two people who were higher level than I was, and only received two total levels for their deaths. That means something like 50 levels were lost, doesn’t it?”

  Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “Not exactly. First, the warrior who escaped also received several levels for defeating you, so not as many levels were lost as you think. Second, you used Reclamation on one of those who you killed. Do you remember how that ability reads?”

  Xander nodded, his memory easily recalling the short descriptor.

  “Reclamation [Reclamation Mage]: Return dead matter to Gaellus in exchange for recovering MP.”

  “Very good, but that description also doesn’t encompass the entirety of what the feature does.” the D.I.E. said. “Your world has the theory that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only transformed. The same is more or less true on Gaellus. What Reclamation does is convert the accumulated essence of a soul back into magical energy under the System’s control.”

  Neither the explanation in general or the seeming non-sequitur about the conservation of energy really helped his understanding. In fact it sounded rather alarming. “Wait, do you mean that using my ability destroyed the souls I helped Gaellus reclaim?” Xander asked with growing horror.

  “No, not at all.” Mr. Sinclair said with a shake of his head. “Merely the accumulated essence and magic that they had gathered through their lives.” Xander pondered that for a moment, thinking about the mental image of his core, and how with each additional spell and feature it grew and added more color and substance. “I see…” he said slowly, then had another thought. “But then why doesn’t that just happen anyway? I mean if the System is what grants that power to people, why can’t it just take it back when they die?”

  The D.I.E. shook its head “I’m not allowed to tell you that. Not yet, if ever. Suffice to say that it can’t… at least… not outside of a dungeon.” Xander’s eyes widened as the information clicked into place, and he nodded slightly. “So killing adventurers in a dungeon doesn’t cost the System as much overall power, because it can reclaim them by itself. If that’s true though, why did my feature work in the first place?”

  “A couple of reasons, but the main one is that there exist certain magics and abilities that can bring a person back from the dead within a limited timeframe. Your ability eliminated that window by forcing the process early.”

  “Ah. I see. But then, what’s the point of it all, why is the System so hell bent on making everyone stronger?”

  “That too is something I’m not allowed to tell you,” said the treant, looking entirely unapologetic. “But I will say that it is a very long process, and while you are still near the bottom of the power scale, I think you have serious potential.”

  Xander snorted, “That sounds exactly like what someone selling a pyramid scheme would say.”

  “Actually, that analogy isn’t entirely wrong,” Mr. Sinclair said thoughtfully, “The numerous weak need to get stronger and move up the levels in order for those above them push their own power to greater heights. The higher up you go, the fewer survivors there are because the power needs to be condensed, and there will be losses along the way.”

  Xander shivered a bit at the cold logic, and wondered not for the first time if Mr. Sinclair actually cared about his survival at all. Sensing this, the D.I.E. turned the hollow knots that comprised its eyes towards him. The empty holes were creepy in that moment, even to Xander, and he nearly flinched. “Your survival is worth much more than your death. The System cultivates both Adventurers and Dungeon Lords, but I believe that it will be those like you who are needed most in the end.”

  The Edge of Divinity