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VoC: B1 — 30. The Shark-Girl’s Curse
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 00:00:42 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Cassy (Our Immortal Shark Girl!)
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She walked toward it without a word, her posture flawless, her dignity in form, if not in truth. She knelt beside the nearest quarter, hands folding in her lap. Her tail swayed—not with grace, but with hunger she could no longer hide.
The scent of cooling meat made her mouth flood with saliva; her rows of teeth ached to extend fully. But she forced them to remain human-sized, forced her expression to stay neutral as [Ravenous Appetite] roared to life.
At least the hunger would stop.
For a while.
Mouth opening, she felt her jaw distend with that familiar, horrible wrongness—not the sharp crack of dislocation, but the fluid, unnatural stretching that reminded her exactly what she wasn’t. She didn’t need to open too wide; the Feat would do the work.
[Gluttony] activated with the sensation of a dam bursting inside her chest. The world narrowed to hunger, to need, to the inexorable pull that made the wolf quarter seem to call to her.
Breathing in, a force—not gravity, but kinetic—drew upon her dead target as if claws scratching for nourishment. A powerful suction that defied physics condensed—easily forty pounds of muscle and bone—flowing toward her like liquid that popped into her mouth.
Seconds. That’s all it took for forty pounds to disappear.
[25 Mana Restored.]
[25/330 Mana.]
[Hunger Levels: 74%.]
[Reserve Food: 0%.]
Maybe this way I can actually keep my mana up to offset healing [Soul Damage].
It could be worse. And…there it is.
A curse came from the others, shivering at the sight.
“Damn,” a guard mumbled a distance away, “can she do that to anything?”
“No,” the man who escorted her grumbled under his breath, “only things that are already dead or inanimate. There’s a limit too, from what the paperwork says.”
“Fascinating,” the boss murmured, circling her like a merchant appraising livestock. “The stories about your appetite—are they true? Can you really consume an entire dumpster?”
Cassy wiped her lips with the back of her hand, the motion precise and ladylike despite what had just occurred. She didn’t answer immediately, swiftly consuming the rest in quick succession, which caused the others to mumble half-prayers to the Holy Emperor—not that they were that devout to begin with.
“The whole wolf?”
“Damn monster herself…”
“Mmm. I hope my efforts are worthy of your praise…” She swallowed, mana returning to half of her 22 Intelligence cap, her hunger reduced to 32%. Her voice was flat as glass as she stood, no smile, just a dull stare at her new owner.
“My stomach can store a tad more than that if I’m starved, should it serve your needs. Though I wonder why pay ten copper pieces for a lovely fanged omen as a disposal service…Master.”
The man’s grin widened, not with disgust, like the others, but with profit left untapped.
“Oh, you’re more than just a disposal service, my sharp-tailed maid. I heard your previous contract carried over with that, ahem, roleplay maid clause.”
Cassy’s mouth twitched upward. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst flavor text she’d had to use—a hell of a lot better than Lady Superior or Sir Eminence every sentence. One contract had her using different pet names for each child depending on the day of the week.
Naturally, her tone held the same semi-annoyed note it always did.
“Delivered with love and joy… Despite my unseemly charms, I am well-versed in etiquette. It is no bother.” Her tail coiled, chain-link trinket brushing her ankle. “May I ask, Master—do my duties remain as maid, or have they expanded?”
“Oh, no, no. I have other plans for you,” he mused, looking her up and down; not in a sexual way, but in a prized-monster sort of way, which was worse—at least to her.
“Tell me, girl—you know about the Seafolk War, don’t you? Ended in 749, when those ocean monsters finally got put in their place…or so the Tenebrin citizenry view that bookmark in history,” he redirected, carefully observing her reaction.
Cassy only barely managed to keep her entire body from going rigid. Yet, her tail, which had been lying still beside her foot, snapped taut against her leg so hard the sharp edge bit through frayed fabric into skin. It immediately healed; not something her new owner would have missed.
[20 Mana Used]
“I…know the general war details, Master,” she said, each word controlled. “May I inquire about the intent of the inquiry? Perhaps I can be of more use.”
He shrugged, hand on his hip, gaze sliding back to the quartered wolf. “Doesn’t matter either way. Ports to the south never recovered. Treaty of Tides shattered. Siege of Tenebrin. I’m no scholar—history all boils down to two things I care about: law and profit.” His laugh bounced in the blood-stained chamber.
Cassy narrowed her left eye, studying him. He wasn’t rambling; he was savoring the weight of a princess’ ransom, already plotting where to sink it.
“The seafolk nearly drowned the eastern theocracy. Ravaged the Beast Isles. Toppled a desert trade-kingdom. Nasty business. And afterward? Every ocean-born lumped with the guilty. Legal classifications blurred. A certain snake-loving friend reminded me of that.”
The way he said ‘seafolk’ made her stomach twist.
“That war was before my time,” she said evenly. “Its aftermath holds no interest for me. Respectfully, Master… I am not seafolk. I am a cursed human—forced into a shark’s skin.”
“Ah, I heard about your claim—nearly everyone has in the city. Hmm. Not caring is a mistake, though; you should really care about laws. Harvey, you have her papers, and would you open your status window for me, dear?” he commanded, his men hanging on his every word.
Cassy’s fingers tightened around the back of her hand, wondering where he was leading her, because this conversation was beginning to scare her.
“…At your service, Master. Would you like it done with a smile?”
He smiled back, indulgent, already scrolling her contract into his legal sheet. She opened her general window to public view. His gaze lingered, lips curling with greed.
“See, the war forced the law to get creative about what counts as humanoid versus monstrous humanoid—legal loopholes for… harsher methods of warfare. And you, girl—dragged to the magistrate more times than I can count—never bothered to study your own file, did you? Which statutes, hmm?”
She leaned closer—and froze.
“Half-Human… Half-Mako Sharkfolk?” Her voice broke. “No. That’s wrong.” Eyes darting down, she traced the acts beneath. “I’ve always been classified as a cursed human…”
The words swam before her eyes. Half-Mako Sharkfolk. Not a cursed human. The letters seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, rewriting seventeen years of everything she’d believed about herself. The system was wrong. It had always been wrong—manipulated by the goddess.
“Ah, yes, well, I don’t know how you managed that in your first contract,” the man chortled, rolling up the paper before tapping it against her revealed window. “How did you manage that? And you dropped the master bit now? Rattled?”
“I—because it is true, Master,” she swallowed, body heat rising as she searched her memories for what this reclassification meant for her. “I’m human. My mother was cursed in pregnancy by a forgotten deity.”
“Ah, yes, yes. But, mmm, that isn’t official. It’s not on record. Odd that no testimony, nor a mother, is listed or included. You’re…disowned. So it cannot be verified…unless you reveal who your mother is…”
He paused, Cassy’s face turning ashen—she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
“Mmm. Right. Well, your status menu says nothing about a curse. No metamorphosis. No transformation. Only…half-seafolk. The Cleric of a forgotten goddess of the ocean. One blessed with the nigh-unheard-of Blessing of Immortality. Clerics not of The Nine are phenomenally rare. You are quite special, Cassandra—as the name appears on your status sheet.”
“What are you implying…Master?” Her voice trembled; the heat behind her eyes made the room sway.
“Simple.” He waved a hand toward blood-slick sand as if indicating a menu. “Someone like you could lose rights. Even less than that disgraced prince—” He let the name hang, then shrugged. “Seafolk, all of them, are classified as monsters. No human clause applies. And do you know what that buys us?”
The paper winked under his thumb: half-seafolk. Cassy’s knees went rubbery; the hem of her dress fanned around her as if to soften the fall. “Monster-fighting rings,” she breathed. “Beast-management laws…not labor law.”
“Convenient,” he said, smiling as if they’d discovered a new spice. “Now, you claim citizenship?”
The question hung in the air like smoke from a funeral pyre. Citizenship—the one thing that separated her from a true monster, from things that could be caged and used. Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
“I—” Her hand went to her throat. “I have citizenship.”
“That’s messy, thanks to the Citizens’ Nullification Act.” He flicked a pen, every syllable casual, surgical. “There’s an amendment for seafolk classification. If ‘half-seafolk’ counts as seafolk, the protections evaporate. If it doesn’t—well, indentured servitude still offers a few formalities. But the law’s being argued right now. Meanwhile? Paper says ‘half-seafolk.’ Paper sells tickets.”
Tears ran hot and bright down her cheek. “I’m not a monster. I’m human—my mother was cursed in pregnancy—”
Cassy felt like screaming. After everything she’d gone through trying to be an adventurer, the pain of those dungeons came flooding back. Her future felt like teeth ripping into her chest.
He cut her off with a tilt of his head, that same bored, hungry smile. “A lovely story, but we don’t adjudicate anecdotes. We adjudicate records. And records are how men make money.”
The pressure of those words settled on her shoulders like chains. No matter what she said, what she believed, what her mother had told her—the paper was all that mattered.
And the paper said: monster.
Her tail tightened like a vise. Immortality tasted suddenly like iron and a lock.
“So—am I to be turned out for sport? An immortal—a chew toy?” she whispered.
The boss’s smile widened. “Shut down?” He gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “Please. I’d be bankrupt before the guards finished their first round of bets. No—if anything, you’re valuable. Very valuable. Mmm. Not ten-copper valuable, no. Your [Immortality] is non-transferable through Scribes—I checked. But to test a law case? Absolutely!
“Half-seafolk may be a bit too much for the people to see as ‘fully monster.’ Squeamish stomachs and all that—for most, at least, right now. I mean, you have affected the population—congratulations on that, by the way; you’re famous enough. Yet, full seafolk? If the amendment shifts, imagine the market: monsters, seafolk—tickets sell themselves. See the dots?”
Cassy couldn’t help but feel the weight of what he was describing. Gladiator pits and rings were outlawed long ago. Yet, they were slowly creeping back into their society.
“Blood sports…”
“Sell,” he grinned. “Oh? Your status sheet says [Mako Physiology], correct? For being a mere curse, you have all the famous Mako-Sharkfolk Feats the race is born with. A C-tier race, from what my scholars tell me. Fascinating,” he mumbled, scanning her many abilities now.
“On that note, I’ve heard some interesting stories about Mako fighting techniques. They say your people—”
“They are not my people!” The words exploded from her before she could stop them, her tail lashing so violently it carved a groove in the sand, biting into the stone beneath. “Master…”
The boss didn’t flinch, a gleam lighting in his eyes as he snapped his fingers, motioning for someone in one of the side gates. “Fair enough. A bit touchy, are we? That composure and attitude of yours is breaking down.”
Cassy breathed in deeply, then released it in a slow stream before rising to her feet, every line of her body screaming barely contained fury and fear.
The familiar grip of years of training settled over her like armor. Her mother’s voice echoed, ‘A Paladin and lady’s composure is her most potent weapon, even when the world seeks to break her. Her strength in the face of impossible odds is what inspires.’
Cassy’s hands stopped shaking through pure force of will, and she performed a gracious curtsy. She restrained her hammering heart, which wanted nothing more than to punch him in his smug, businessman’s face—all he saw in her was profit.
“My apologies for the outburst. It is a…sensitive topic, as you can imagine. Please, Master, know I am not seafolk. I am not a monster. I am a cursed human seeking a cure for an affliction I never asked for.”
Her teeth had extended fully now, razor-sharp and gleaming, and it took some force to return them to their standard size.
“Those creatures you speak of—they’re the reason I have suffered so much. Their very existence taints my world in agony…and makes people look at me and see them instead of what I really am. I am a seventeen-year-old human girl. But I suppose, now, I am damned by the law I follow…”
The soldiers’ weapons were drawn, looking at her with the same contempt they saw in monsters. Yet, the boss held up a hand, a patient look on his weathered face.
“Princess Catelyn must feel the same, I’m sure, Cassy… Know that I am not trying to push this to damn you. In fact, I made sure to apply all current indentured servitude laws to your contract, when I could have had many stripped. Race laws may fail you. Citizenship may fail you. But the servitude laws are vast and all-catching… You’re safe here.”
Cassy wanted to laugh as he brought out a weapon that made her belly squirm. You say I’m safe…but I’m damned either way, because I’ll never be free again.
“Now, I understand you’re a Cleric, and by the looks of it, you’ve never used any other weapon—”
“Incorrect, Master,” she whispered, regaining her dead voice and dull expression as she brushed off yet another scar on her bleeding heart. Her tail stilled beside her, feeling senseless, yet she had to fight in some way. “I have trained extensively from youth with a variety of Paladin weapons, though I lack the inherent expertise of a Feat.”
“Interesting… Yes, well, but I see no point in theory when we can deal in practice.”
A servant staggered through the side gate, both arms braced around a weapon that dwarfed him. He leaned, shuffling with effort, the sheer circumference forcing him to angle it through the doorway like cargo. When he lowered it into the sand with a dull clang, Cassy’s heart clenched.
The cloth fell away.
For a moment, Cassy couldn’t breathe. She knew what this was before the cloth even hit the sand. The sick recognition hit her like ice water, every instinct she’d spent years suppressing suddenly stirring to life.
The chakra was enormous—large enough that she could have lain inside it, knees tucked tight, her head and hips pressed to one curve, taking up barely a quarter of its side.
The ring itself was a foot and a half in width, a layered construction of elegant metal with hollow channels running its length. Along half its outer curve gleamed cobalt, pearl-like stones, each set to catch the light in shifting shades of ocean blue.
At one point, a tiny sapphire sat in a socket like a heart-valve, the focus where water magic would gather and flare into an arrow the size of a spear whenever the ring flexed into a bow.
She knew exactly what this was: an elite Mako-Shark specialized weapon, meant for their Water Dancers. It was meant for spectacle, for eyes, for inspiring effortless awe on the battlefield. And it made her belly twist.
The boss spread his arms as though presenting a jewel. “Five steel, that cost me—a prize a Paladin’s grandfather obtained during the war. Yellow-Grade. Built to dazzle an amphitheater, I’m told. Ahem, here is what he said:
“Watch it unfold—the shark-girl whirls inside the river-ring, the pearls scattering light like foam, the sapphire igniting into arrows of the deep. A performance, and a killing stroke, all in one.” His smile sharpened. “And best of all? Your [Mako-Shark Weapon Proficiency] will unlock the dance the instant you touch it. No training. No excuses.”
Cassy swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Throughout her entire youth—her whole life—she’d refused to use her Mako-Shark Feats, because she wasn’t one. Now, it was expected of her, and, contractually, she was forced to use the magic and curse she’d rejected.
Will it always be like this? Sekrina, is this your sick way of forcing me to accept this curse you’ve given me? Damn you, you monster of a goddess… I don’t want to be your Cleric! I don’t… So how did I get forced into this life…
“How thoughtful,” she murmured, eyes dull. “Every day, I’ll wake up a little more dead inside. Should I pick dead flowers for the show?”
The boss laughed, apathetic to her feelings. “Poetic! Harvey—take her to help one of the other girls. The Head of Interior will see to cleaning her up when she finds some time. Cassy will shine like the weapon itself for tonight’s grand show! I cannot wait. This will be a game to remember.”
Cassy drifted away, into the deepest blue of her misery, unsure how her life had reached this point. Since she was six years old, she’d devoted her entire life to trying to follow the Holy Emperor, supporting the citizens, upholding the laws as best she could, and always striving to do better.
No matter what I do…is it just not enough? When will this cursed life end…
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[ Next POV: Damon]
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