"Holy f*ck, I'm actually a lawn ornament."
Riku sat on the cold stone floor, his legs… now thick, hairy splayed out in front of him. He tried to wiggle his toes, and it felt like moving five solid blocks of pencil tips, lead grinding away inside boots that felt more like iron buckets.
The center of gravity in this new body was somewhere near his groin, making him feel less like a human and more like a very muscular bowling ball swaying left and right. He felt dense. But packed tight, as if someone had taken all the muscle of his former self and hammered it down into a shorter, wider mold.
Meow.
The cat looked into Riku. It was sleek, a Siamese pattern with eyes like polished emeralds that seemed to see right through his sudden existential dread. It stepped daintily over the splinters of the shattered wardrobe. The victim of Riku'schaotic arrival came and sat directly on Riku's lap. It started purring so loudly that Riku's entire ribcage vibrated. It was like sitting next to a running lawnmower.
"At least someone's happy mini-me is here," Riku grumbled.
He reached out to scratch the cat behind the ears, his fingers feeling thick and calloused, like they'd spent decades gripping a sledgehammer. For a second, a strange sensation washed over him a cooling wave of clarity that didn't belong to his own senses.
'He smells like iron and old dust, but his hands are warm. I shall allow this. He seems more lively than usual."
Riku froze. The thought hadn't come from his own mind. It was a faint, whispery impression that bypassed his ears entirely, echoing directly in the center of his skull.
[Experience Gained - Skill: Animal Communication (LVL 2) — Progress: 12%]
"Shut up already!" Riku snapped at the golden screen hovering in his peripheral vision. "I'm having a mid-life.. no, a mid-death crisis here. I don't need a play-by-play of my own insanity."
Realizing that the cat does not understand him, nor is it the system in his head meaning Riku is effectively shouting at the air like a lunatic; he decided to push himself up. It was harder than it looked. His arms were incredibly powerful, the triceps bulging like overstuffed sausages, but they were short. He had to roll his weight forward, his heavy torso threatening to tip him face-first onto the cobblestones.
When he finally made it to his feet, the world looked… different. The perspective shift was jarring for him. Tables that used to be at his waist were now closer to eye level.
The anvil in the center of the room, which should have been a waist-high tool, looked like a massive, jagged mountain of black iron. In his previous life, he was 6'4", a towering presence in the back alleys of Shinjuku. He didn't know what he was now, but he was for sure significantly closer to the dirt.
He felt the weight of his own shoulders. They were wide enough to get stuck in a standard doorway. He felt the thickness of his neck, which seemed to transition directly into his jaw without the help of a chin. He felt like a tank compressed into a trash can.
"Okay, Riku. Relax. You've been in tighter spots than this" he thought to himself, trying to steady his breathing in a still pattern. "You're in a workshop. There are weapons. You're a 'High Mountain Dwarf.' Fine. If the System says I'm an apprentice, I'll just play along until I find a way to get my height back."
His eyes landed on a practice dummy in the corner; a heavy sack of grain reinforced with thick, weathered leather and iron studs. His Yakuza instincts, honed by a decade of "negotiations" and turf wars, screamed at him to test his new hardware. He needed to know what this body could do. If he was going to be short, he at least wanted to be dangerous.
He balled his fist. It looked like a mallet made of flesh and bone, his knuckles scarred and wide.
"Let's see what a dwarf-powered punch feels like."
He pivoted his hips, finding a surprising amount of torque in his stocky legs. Like Mike Tyson in his prime, he put the full weight of his dense frame into a clinical right hook, the kind of punch that utilized every ounce of momentum.
In his old life, this move would have shattered a man's jaw and sent teeth flying like confetti. Here, with this much density and explosive power behind it, he expected the dummy to explode in a cloud of burlap and wheat.
WHIFFFF.
An inch before his fist connected with the leather, a flash of crystalline, elegant blue light erupted. It wasn't an explosion; it was a barrier. A geometric grid of light, shimmering with runic symbols, appeared between his fist and the dummy. It didn't just block him; it pushed back with the unrelenting force of a hydraulic press.
[WARNING: VIOLATION OF RESTRICTION]
[Penance of the Pacifist: Damage Output is set to ZERO in this scenario. No Violence is currently necessary.]
[Action Cancelled.]
The recoil didn't just stop his hand; it sent a jolt of static electricity straight up his arm, popping in his shoulder socket. Riku yelped like a farm animal, the sudden resistance throwing off his balance. He stumbled back, his heavy feet tangling together, and hit the stone floor with a shattering thud.
"MOTHER FU—!" Riku roared at the ceiling, his face turning a shade of dark red that almost perfectly matched the copper of his new beard. He kicked out at the air in frustration, but his short legs only made the gesture look ridiculous.
He started thinking in his own head, his thoughts racing with indignation:
"This 'system' is going to give me the body of a professional wrestler and then tell me I can't hit a bag of grain?! What kind of sick joke is this?! What am I supposed to do if someone actually tries to kill me? Stare at them with a funny face or something?"
'The loud one is leaking anger again. It is very vibrating. Perhaps I should bite him to see if he leaks juice as well.'
"The loud one? Oh, it's the cat. I forgot I could hear him for a second. Wonder why he sounds Russian though"
Riku then glared at the cat, knowing exactly what it had just thought about doing. "Don't you even start, do not bite me!" he warned, pointing a thick finger at the feline.
The cat glared back. It looked genuinely confused that its silent judgment had been intercepted, and for a moment, there was a silent understanding between man and beast: they both thought this situation was beneath them.
[Experience Gained - Skill: Animal Communication (LVL 2) — Progress: 100%]
[Skill Upgrade: Animal Communication: +1]
[Skill: Animal Communication (LVL 3)]
The moment for Riku to enjoy his new level up was shattered as the door to the workshop slammed open. The hinges groaned and shrieked as if they were being tortured on a rack.
A dwarf entered, framed by the dim light of the hallway. If Riku was a bowling ball, this man was two or three of them stacked together.
He was a mountain of muscle wrapped in a soot-stained leather apron, his beard so long it was tucked into his belt to keep it out of the forge. He looked at the wreckage of the wardrobe, the cat on the floor, and Riku's beet-red face with an expression of pure, unadulterated grumpiness.
"Well?" the dwarf barked, his voice sounding like two boulders grinding together. "Are ya plannin' on courtin' the floor all day, or are ya goin' to get up?"