((This is another entry about Ragnarok Online Glyph's life. He reached a high enough level to be Reborn, so decided to try something new.))

A sigh escaped my lips, as I hung my gilded pistols on the wall of the house Namine and I had taken in Payon. Okay, it wasn't so much that we'd taken it, as I carried her there once, and we've returned on occasion, and it would seem the Payonites don't like that a demonic presence like me has taken residence there. So they leave the house alone, under the assumption that I won't level their city.

Like I'd do something like that. I'm not -all- bad. Aw well, free house.

I stacked the cases of ammunition beneath where my gunbelt hung, on a freshly hammered nail. For some reason, I had more ammo than I expected... which was where all my money recently had been going. Bullets, and Silver Bullets, are damned expensive, but I can't use guns without 'em. That's not the reason I hung up the guns, though it's the reason I'm giving Namine for now.

My scarlet Gunslinger gear came off easily enough, I was worried for a moment because I'd worn it for so long. Folding it and putting it away in the cabinet beneath the bullets, I truly felt naked for the first time in years. I stopped long enough to examine myself in a mirror, full-length, and was surprised that a blush was forming on my cheeks, and flooding down my neck and shoulders.

My body is covered in scars from both battles with humans and monsters alike, as well as from the experiments that crazy broad Elcyd did on me in Lighthalzen. Each and every one hurts slightly, an old twinge, probably more of a memory of the past than actual pain. People sometimes say that they can feel phantom pains from limbs lost; maybe that's why every now and again I feel like stretching my wings.

I don't have wings.

Turning, I could see the foot or so of bluish flesh, topped with a fluffy bit of fur, jutting from my tailbone. Maybe jutting wasn't the best word; it hung over my backside, swishing from time to time. Before, when Namine and I had first discovered the tail, it was simply a few inches long, and didn't seem like much.

Elcyd told me that I need to control myself, or I'll become more and more like the monster the grafted me to. I wonder on occasion, would turning into a Succubus rob me of my humanity in mind as well as body? Would I be the first male Succubus, not an Incubus, but a new offshoot entirely? Or would I turn into a female Succubus, complete with my own mentality?

I guess those are questions best left unanswered. I don't want to turn into a Succubus; I'm already too much like one for my, or Namine's, own good.

I slipped off my sunglasses and placed them on a table, along with my headband. Kneeling, I retrieved a packet of gear; weapons and armor befitting my new chosen path. I'd decided to embrace part of my demonic self, to more fully understand it, and maybe turn it to become more harmonious with my humanity. See, now and again I'd get an impulse to do.. something.. that just wasn't right. A good example would be when I beat that Seyren Windsor clone into a bloody pulp, then licked my fingers clean. Ugh!

Opening the packet, I saw a set of light, if ornate, clothing. Red and black edged in burnished gold. The symbols of Prontera's church were missing, replaced instead with what could be considered blasphemous images. I don't think they are, they're merely runes declaring that I would draw my powers from within myself, instead of from the Gods.

I shrugged into these clothes, almost wanting to writhe back out of them immediately. The felt so foreign! Also in the packet was a buckler made of what appeared to be ancient stone; enduring and unconcerned with the passage of time. There was also a pair of weapons. A wickedly edged, four-bladed Swordmace, as well as an oversized Wrench. Both would do nicely, depending on the situation, so I hung the Wrench on the small of my back, belting the Swordmace onto my right hip.

As a final touch, I put my shades back on, and stood in front of the mirror again, a changed man if not in body and mind than in ability.

Maybe I wanted to give up the guns because they reminded me so much of that weakling Maxwell. Maybe I wanted to avoid the mistakes he'd made, and fly under the radar, so I wouldn't lose Namine in any event.

I was still Glyph. The guns didn't make me who I was. Neither did Maxwell or Elcyd.

I did.