《Heroic Valor: By Any Means Necessary [LitRPG, Progression, Isekai]》


 Chapter 1

    I should be doing more than this.


    The thought came to him for the tenth time that morning.


    Simon put it out of his mind as best he could. Breathing deep of acrid city air, he joined the throngs of people ambling down the sidewalk.


    He took his time aimlessly wandering without any particular destination in mind. The city''s hustle and bustle mercifully drowned out his worries, stifling the growing sense of disquiet that had become his constant companion in life.


    Eventually, though, the urge to accomplish something reared its ever-insistent head again.


    Simon grabbed a snack from a roadside vendor, contemplating where to go next. His dorm room was an option...


    But he also hadn''t visited Grace''s soup kitchen in a few days. The errant thought provoked an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades.


    Before he knew it, he was navigating familiar streets to a familiar destination.


    His mood lifted when he entered through the soup kitchen''s front door and was immediately greeted by a cheery smile. Grace ¨C a stout, middle-aged woman ¨C was in the middle of organizing various foodstuffs when she noticed him. "Simon!" she said. "Always good to see your face ''round here."


    Simon''s lips curled up into his own small smile. The fact that Grace meant it was one of the reasons he kept returning. He didn''t get this kind of reception anywhere else. "Same to you. There any new work for me?"


    She jabbed a finger towards a heap of supplies haphazardly stacked in the corner. "Fresh crop came in. You know the drill."


    Snapping off a mock salute, Simon went over to the pile, then began sorting and packaging the assorted provisions into boxed sets of food. Each set he created contained a specific distribution of calories and nutrients. That way, everyone who visited the kitchen would get exactly what their body needed.


    Good, honest, tangible work. He could already feel his blood pressure lowering. Simon fell into a sort of zen state as he sorted, hours passing by an instant.


    It was late afternoon when they decided to finally take a break. "How''s your retail job going?" Grace asked, passing him an unopened can of soda. "The one at the supermarket? You came early today."


    "Oh, it''s going great," Simon beamed. "I got fired."


    She paused. "Oh. Why?"


    "Drove a customer to tears for the third time. Manager agreed that they had it coming, but I still broke the store''s Three Strikes clause, so he had no choice but to let me go."


    Grace chuckled, her smile lighting up the room once more. "Congratulations, I guess? Would usually offer condolences, but you seem happy."


    "It was retail."


    And in truth, he didn''t need the money. Simon had taken the job as a sort of...training exercise. Retail attracts all types of customer, and he wanted to see if he could get better at empathizing with people he disliked, learn to help them without lashing out.


    Clearly, it was still a work-in-progress.


    "Mmhmm." Grace''s smile shifted into a wry grin. "I suppose it''s fine. You''re young, and that was just a temp job. Once college classes start back up, you''ll have to focus on your studies ¨C and after that, every company in the area will be looking to snap you up."


    The woman eyed him curiously. "What field are you looking to go into, Simon? What''s your dream?"


    She had no idea how much of a loaded question she''d just asked.


    Simon stalled for time by downing a gulp of soda, considered multiple possible answers...then opted for the truth. It would probably shock her, but he''d inspired plenty of baffled expressions over the years ¨C this one wasn''t going to be anything he hadn''t seen before.


    "I want to do whatever will make me obscenely rich," he said.


    Grace nodded, displaying not a hint of judgement. "Don''t blame you. In this economy¨C"


    "So that I can bribe politicians."


    "...Beg pardon?"


    Simon placed his can on the ground. "It''s the conclusion I''ve reached after an extensive analysis of the societal framework we live in. First, I started with one question: how do I improve things? How do I make the world a better place? And I don''t mean just helping little old ladies across the street; I''m talking about systemic, wide-sweeping change."


    He raised one finger. "The most obvious solution would be to take the reins myself. Become a politician and hold the highest possible office I can. Unfortunately, I doubt that''s in the cards. Don''t have the charisma or funds for a campaign. Might get some disenfranchised people to vote for me, but I''d be the niche pick that results in little more than a tiny footnote on wikipedia."


    Which today had just proved. If he couldn''t keep himself from lashing out at retail customers, then he wouldn''t last five minutes when coming face-to-face with actual politicians. The news media would eat him alive for voicing what he honestly thought about them.


    "So I considered other options for improving the world." Simon held up two more fingers. "Cure a major disease, or devise a major technological invention. However, after taking some courses in college, I''ve come to the conclusion that I''m not the kind of prodigy capable of revolutionizing a field. Like...if I became a doctor or a scientist, I would be good at it ¨C but not incredible. ''Incredible'' is what''s needed to change history."


    That, and the backing of big corporations. A groundbreaking invention wouldn''t go anywhere without funding and production lines.


    It always came down to power you held.


    "At that point, I circled back around to the politician angle. If I can''t become a politician, then maybe I can influence them instead? You''d be shocked at how little money it takes to buy someone''s vote. Comparatively speaking. I''d still need to be rich, but¨C"


    Grace held up a hand. She seemed dizzy, like she was trapped in a malfunctioning amusement park. "Just...slow down. Isn''t governmental bribery illegal?"


    Simon''s face remained impassive. "Bribery is illegal. Lobbying is a-okay."


    He neglected to mention that he would''ve also been a-okay with threatening politicians into compliance, if only he had the armies or blackmail necessary to make them listen. That idea had rarely gotten a good response when he mentioned it to others in the past.


    "Huh." Grace laced her fingers together. "Alright then. Do you really need to go that far with¨C"


    "Yes."


    "Oh." She seemed momentarily taken aback before rallying herself. "Well, how do you plan to ¨C what was it ¨C get obscenely rich? Your plan hinges on it."


    "Still working on that part," Simon said, with a barely-suppressed wince. "While I have some startup capital from the...the payouts, it won''t be easy. Investing in high-risk stocks is essentially gambling. Could run a business, but those usually fail, and then I''m back to square one."


    The woman stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You''ve truly put a lot of thought into this, haven''t you?"


    He let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah. If you''ve got any better ideas, I''m all ears."


    Grace breathed out, drumming fingers on her thigh. "I mean...can''t believe I''m saying this, but...if you want to make money, this isn''t really the place to be."


    Simon briefly clenched his fist. "I know. Have to do something to help people, though. Can''t just be twiddling thumbs until my fortunes improve."


    She paused, realization sparking in her widening eyes. "Simon, if this is because you''re feeling guilty, I hope you know that what happened before isn''t your faul¨C"


    "Would rather not talk about that right now."


    Should never have told her to begin with. He blamed Grace''s team-mom exterior that prompted people to reveal their innermost secrets with nothing more than genuine caring and warmth.


    The conversation died after that. Simon returned to his packaging and sorting, ignoring the worried looks that Grace was sending his way.


    Those were much easier to deal with than the worries festering inside his heart. Invest in stocks? Start a business? Long shots, all of them. Realistically, he knew that his chances of achieving the success he needed to fulfill his ambitions were slim. If he didn''t get lucky at some point and win the proverbial lottery, his capacity to change the world would remain minimal.


    Deep down, he had already resigned himself to the strong possibility that his life''s efforts might end up making no difference at all.


    The thought felt like death.


    HELLO.


    Suddenly, an overpowering voice rang out within Simon''s mind.


    He and Grace cried out, nearly falling off their chairs. More than his own pain, it was Grace''s visible distress that snapped him back to awareness. Simon rushed over to assist her, smothering the alarm he felt at her gritted teeth and trembling hands.


    BE NOT AFRAID.


    From outside the soup kitchen, he heard crowds of people start to scream in terror.


    WAIT. Cease panicking. I said ''Be Not Afraid''. I was informed this would work.


    The voice was slightly quieter this time, although still egregiously loud. At first Simon thought it sounded vaguely masculine, before realizing the voice was his. Like some external force was hijacking his inner narration and using it to communicate with him.


    Marvelous. That''s better, yes? Please...please calm down, and everything will be explained.


    "Do the people outside have to scream so loud?" Grace asked, her breaths normalizing as she massaged her aching forehead. "They sound positively petrified ¨C even aside from the voice, I mean. Is something happening out there? Are they okay?"


    "Only you would think of other people at a time like this," Simon teased. He wobbled to his feet, hiding his discomfort. "Stay here. I''ll go check what''s happening. Don''t want you in the line of fire in case of...just in case."


    He bolted outside before she could respond, trusting Grace''s condition to keep her from doing anything rash.


    That was his job.


    The streets were choked full of people doing their very best not to spiral into a riot. Thousands of wide-open eyes had been turned skyward. Simon followed their gazes, raising his head to look up at the¨C


    He stopped cold. Simon blinked, waited, then blinked again. The sight was still there.


    After ruling out a communal brain hemorrhage...he was forced to accept that this was reality.


    The clouds had parted to reveal a gigantic thing floating above. Rays of gold illuminated a constantly shifting, non-Euclidean form that hurt Simon''s head the more he tried to understand it. The creature''s mass seemed to stretch across the entire city, casting a shadow as if it was a localized solar eclipse.


    37% of you have calmed. I deem those numbers adequate. The thing''s ''body'' pulsed with every word it inserted into Simon''s mind. It loudly cleared its throat ¨C somehow ¨C and adopted a self-serious tone. People of the sphere colloquially designated as Earth: I come to you with a plea. The fate of worlds hangs in the balance.


    "Maaaan," a person close to Simon whispered. "Shouldn''t have eaten those brownies."


    A great war is being waged as we speak. Cosmic forces beyond your comprehension are locked in conflict, and the winner shall decide whether Good prevails or Evil reigns supreme.


    The Thing paused. One moment. Hugo Blanchet of France has a question.


    Underneath the Thing''s mass, a boy''s face appeared within a sort of a mid-air projector screen. Simon had no idea who it was ¨C he looked like any random young kid off the street.


    "Is that me?" Hugo asked, his voice booming as if he was talking into a microphone. Simon was pretty sure the boy was speaking French, but he heard it as English. "Oh jeez that''s me. Wow. I, I have a question! What should we call you, Mr...uh...Mr. Voice-In-The-Sky?"


    Voice-In-The-Sky is permissible.


    With a static-y blip, the projection closed, and Hugo''s face disappeared. Now that greetings have been made ¨C I must warn you of what draws near. A war is being waged across realities, and with each world that succumbs to Evil, their power grows. It is only with the assistance of mortals such as yourselves that total annihilation can be averted.


    Voice-In-The-Sky''s light intensified. And so I ask this of you today: one brave soul from Earth must dedicate their life to saving a world that is not their own.


    Simon froze. He felt a sensation build up within him. One that took him several seconds to recognize.


    Longing.


    A longing so fierce that it gripped his chest with fingers of steel.


    The champion of the world known as Valtia has fallen. Whoever is chosen today shall assume their mantle and continue the fight in their stead. Without its champion''s strength, all life on Valtia shall vanish within the span of one year.


    Everyone spoke up at once. The streets erupted with energy, billions of people across the globe vying for attention.


    Simon was among them. He yelled until his throat was hoarse, desperately willing the Voice to hear him.


    Another face appeared beneath it, presented in the supernatural projection window. This time, it was a woman who seemed to be in her late 40s. Paula Ramirez of Spain wishes to speak.


    She nodded, her gaze as sharp as a knife. "Assuming I''m not dreaming...what''s the catch?"


    Catch?


    "The catch. The fine print. The part of the deal where someone gets screwed." Her eyes narrowed. "For example; how is just one person from our planet supposed to save an entire world?"


    Valtia''s new champion shall be granted the fallen champion''s powers upon transmigration, along with other boons. Your capacity for growth will be unmatched, and your power will swell when performing deeds of heroism and valor.


    Power, Simon marveled, the word crackling in his thoughts like a lightning bolt. I''ll be granted power. Just like that.


    The power to make CHANGE.


    Before the Voice''s projection could close, Paula interjected again. "If you''re capable of doing that, then why not empower a citizen of Valtia? Or just save the place yourself?"


    You ask many questions.


    "I''m a lawyer."


    The Voice-In-The-Sky seemed to shiver slightly. Our rules of engagement with Evil include a mutual treaty of non-aggression that prohibits direct intervention. When deities clash on the soil of a world...it never ends well for the world in question. This workaround is the most support we can proffer.


    Simon imagined cities turned to dust as gods of Good and Evil fought on a mortal battleground. It was a sobering thought ¨C especially if the other deities were as powerful as Voice-In-The-Sky, able to project its will to billions of people simultaneously.


    Furthermore, Earth stands to gain from this covenant. If a world''s mortal is chosen as a transmigrated champion, then their world is spared from the touch of cosmic war for the next hundred-thousand years.


    Paula snuck in a couple more questions before her fifteen minutes of fame were up. "And who''s going to be this champion of yours?"


    It can be almost anyone on your planet, chosen at random. After filtering out unsuitable candidates, the choice will be made for you.


    "Unsuitable how?"


    Too young, too old...but mostly, those who strongly desire to be transmigrated must be excluded from consideration.


    Impossibly, a stunned silence fell across Earth.


    Or maybe that was just how it seemed to Simon. He didn''t think he would''ve noticed even if someone shouted a megaphone inches away from his ear. The longing in his heart had turned to an icy-cold rage, like permafrost forged at the base of a volcano.


    We shall now begin the¨C


    "You''re a joke."


    Voice-In-The-Sky froze. The projection window shifted, erasing Paula''s face ¨C and replacing it with a new visage.


    It was like looking at a giant, superimposed mirror.


    Simon of North America. You have complaints?


    Everyone nearby turned to stare at him in shock. Across the globe, billions more were doing the same, gazing up at Simon inside the Voice''s projection window. Perhaps under different circumstances, he would have stumbled his words, faltering under an impossible amount of attention and pressure.


    Right now, though?


    "Those who WANT to be transmigrated are excluded?"


    Simon was way too pissed to care.


    "You do know what that sounds like, right?" He crossed his arms, glaring at Voice-In-The-Sky with open disdain. "Kidnapping. Straight-up."


    It is a flawed process, correct. Yet also necessary.


    "Explain. Now. Why can''t you choose someone who''s actually willing to uproot their life?"


    Someone like him? Someone who would''ve sold their soul to be given the chance to make a real difference in the world? If not on Earth, then at least on another?


    Volunteers have been attempted in the past. However...on your sphere, there is a saying: ''Only those who do not seek power are qualified to hold it.'' Mortals who jump at the chance to become champion tend to possess large egos, a tendency towards megalomania, and other personality defects that arise later in time. It has led to many a catastrophe.


    The Voice''s presence sagged with disappointment. On average, reluctant heroes turn out better. Despite their initial complaints, they usually rise to the occasion.


    All at once, Simon understood that if he let Voice-In-The-Sky know just how badly he needed this opportunity, it would slip through his fingers like grains of sand.


    He chose his next words with exceptional care.


    "It''s still not right." Simon injected righteous anger into his tone. "Based on what you''ve said so far, I''m guessing this is a one-way trip. Whoever leaves will never be able to return. They won''t see their loved ones, their family, or their friends ever again. They''ll have to rebuild their life in a completely foreign world."


    Correct.


    "And that''s the best-case scenario. Becoming a champion doesn''t guarantee success. If it wasn''t dangerous, the original champion wouldn''t have bought the farm in the first place. Odds are whoever transmigrates is going to die while fighting for a land that isn''t even theirs."


    Highly possible.


    Simon bared his teeth. "You''re okay with subjecting an unwilling participant to that? Just telling them that their life is over, and they''ve gotta deal with it?"


    When countless lives are at stake? Yes.


    Lowering his arms, Simon clenched both fists until his fingernails drew blood. "No. I can''t accept that. There has to be a better way."


    Voice-In-The-Sky was quiet for five eternally long seconds.


    You feel quite strongly about this.


    As the deity took the bait, Simon''s heart soared with triumph. He made sure not to let any of it show on his face. "Why wouldn''t I?" he hissed. "What you''re suggesting is kidnapping at best, murder at worst."


    Are you concerned that you might be selected? I can exclude you from¨C


    "That doesn''t MATTER! I could handle it! What about someone who couldn''t?!"


    His outburst gave the Voice pause. To be so adamant for the sake of one stranger...


    Very well.


    Rays of gold shone down on Simon like a spotlight from the heavens. It illuminated his face in the Voice''s sky-projector, showing how his expression morphed to a mask of stoic determination.


    Simon of Earth. In circumvention of the standard selection process, you have been chosen to become Valtia''s champion. A champion given the freedom of choice to make this sacrifice in place of another.


    Do you accept?


    Silence reigned as all of Earth waited for his answer on bated breath.


    With a steady hand, Simon reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and called one of his few contacts. "Grace?"


    "Simon." She put a wealth of emotion into his name, ranging from disbelief, to resignation, to affection. "I turned on the TV...I saw..."


    He almost smiled for her, but that might''ve tipped off the Voice. "Sorry. Don''t think I''ll be stopping by the kitchen again."


    Grace didn''t respond immediately. "This is what you want?"


    More than anything. "If it means someone else doesn''t have to? I''ll bite the bullet."


    She sighed. "Then...try to be happy. That''s all I ask."


    "I promise I will." He hesitated. Last chance to tell her. "And thanks. For...being there. You made me feel like I still had a mom."


    With a sense of finality, Simon pressed the ''end call'' icon. He looked up at Voice-In-The-Sky, nodding once. "I''m ready."


    THEN OUR CONTRACT IS SEALED.


    The world spun and vanished.


    --


    When Simon regained consciousness, he was floating in a featureless white void.


    Peering around with interest, he investigated each direction to find absolutely nothing waiting in the distance. A quick check confirmed that his cell phone was getting zero bars ¨C no surprise there either.


    You are more at peace with this than most would be. The Voice resounded in his head, still present even without its incomprehensible form hovering above him.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Simon shrugged. "I agreed to terms offered by an eldritch alien deity thing. A white void seems par for the course." He frowned. "You weren''t lying about the whole multiversal battle between Good and Evil, right?"


    I was not. Assisting the world of Valtia shall be to the benefit of all.


    "Awesome. So ¨C what does being a champion entail, exactly? Is Valtia a swords-and-sorcery kind of world?"


    ...Did I not explain that already?


    "Nope."


    The Voice flickered with something akin to embarrassment. That you would volunteer despite not knowing the details of Valtia''s circumstances is admirable.


    Simon adopted a faint look of regret that he hoped was convincing. "Someone had to."


    Indeed. Regardless, you were correct. Valtia is a medieval world of might and magic. Its champion was a rising warrior of peerless talent. Given time, he would have matured into an unparalleled swordsman ¨C one strong enough to avert catastrophe and topple the despots plaguing his world.


    Voice-In-The-Sky hummed with glee. His allies will be overjoyed when they learn that another has come to take up his mantle. Especially someone with an even larger capacity for growth.


    Simon''s ears perked up at the word ''growth''. "So I''ll learn the champion''s abilities and get stronger as well?"


    His power will be inherited fully, then expanded upon. To facilitate this, a system has been created to categorize your new powers within a framework that should be familiar to you. The term its designers used was ''RPG'', I believe.


    Music to my ears. Simon took a moment to tamp down his budding excitement. "Tell me more about what I''ll be waking up to. What''s the political situation like? Will I be fighting people, monsters, or both?"


    Likely both. Aside from the threat of Fell Beasts, Valtia''s nobility has¨C


    Everything shifted.


    Simon clutched his head as grating, discordant laughter assaulted his senses, worse than nails hammering straight into his brain. It was like the Voice''s initial message but twenty times as harsh; as if it had been intended to inflict agony, rather than the pain simply being a byproduct of communication.


    And then ¨C nothing. The moment ended just as quickly as it began.


    However, it was immediately evident that something had happened. When Simon looked out into the endless white void, he noticed that parts of it were infected with an inky blackness that burnt to look at.


    ...No. Oh no.


    Simon winced. "Not good?"


    No no no no no.


    It was hard to stay composed when his patron deity very much wasn''t, but he managed. "Chill. Let''s take this one step at a time. What happened?"


    Evil struck. The Voice sounded utterly despondent. Cowardly subterfuge, yet undeniably effective. They couldn''t interfere with Valtia directly...but they could interfere with me before the transmigration was completed.


    "So what''s changed?"


    They have tainted the weavings of my magic. It no longer inherits Valtia''s champion ¨C but an insignificant nobody of little renown. You will gain virtually nothing from transmigrating. Sending you to a world of conflict such as Valtia would be no different than slaying you myself.


    "Right. Not the greatest development." Simon suppressed his mounting anxiety and punched his fist into his palm. "What are our options? Maybe you could re-do the spell, or¨C"


    Impossible. The energy required would prevent me from transmigrating another champion for eons. Dozens of worlds would fall prey to the manipulations of Evil. I cannot accept that. Not even to atone for my own carelessness. Valtia will be damned so that others may live.


    All around, the void shook with an atmosphere of formless despair. I...I failed them. Failed you. Failed everyone.


    Simon allowed himself a bit of time to process everything he''s just heard.


    Afterwards, he reached up and awkwardly patted the empty air. "Hey, man...you doing okay?"


    The Voice let out a hollow chuckle. No.


    "Fair enough." Simon offered it a conciliatory smile. "Don''t sweat it. Happens to the best of us. Heck, I just got fired from my job earlier today."


    I do not think the scale is quite comparable.


    "Wasn''t even the first position I''ve been fired from. Turns out, irate customers don''t appreciate it when you say that they''re grotesque caricatures undeserving of love. Your average job performance is probably still way better than mine."


    The Voice chuckled again. This time, there was slightly more humor to it. You are a good man, Simon of Earth. I shall ensure that you are sent home free of harm. It is the least I can do to¨C


    "Woah, woah, woah," Simon interrupted. "Who said anything about going back to Earth?"


    Voice-In-The-Sky stared at him with a sightless gaze of confusion. What other choice is there for you?


    "Finishing the transmigration, obviously."


    You...don''t seem to understand. My magic as it is now would turn you into the furthest thing from a champion, both bodily and geographically. I am not even sure of what awaits you in Valtia ¨C only that it would almost assuredly be fatal.


    Simon tilted his head. "But I''d still have the RPG system thing. And Earth would be ''spared from the touch of cosmic war'' for a really long time."


    Well, yes.


    "Then send me over. I got this."


    It all came down to a simple cost-benefit analysis. Valtia was a medieval world of ¨C presumably ¨C low technology and impoverished people. There would be more chances for Simon to climb the political ladder and unseat whatever leaders were in charge. By force, if necessary. And when combined with guaranteed power growth?


    As far as Simon was concerned, he still had better odds of making a difference there than on Earth.


    Such sacrifice. You would do this to ensure your world''s protection?


    The Voice spoke with borderline reverence. Simon nodded, happy to let it draw its own conclusions.


    ...Then I can only respect your decision, and thank you for it.


    Luminous energy of blue and gold gathered around Simon. He felt his body start to be pulled in all directions, first weakly, then with increasing pressure. It wasn''t painful, just weird as hell.


    As the Voice''s magic prepared to form, it communicated with him one last time, using a tone that begged for him to listen.


    Simon. Forget performing any grand heroics. Simply do what you can. Brighten Valtia''s darkness with your light, however small or flickering it may be. That is the most I can possibly ask from you.


    It paused for emphasis. Don''t throw your life away.


    Simon nodded. "Sounds reasonable. If I''m not getting cheat code champion powers, then the smart thing to do would be to play it safe."


    The energy coalesced, obscuring his sight with colors of radiance. Right before he disappeared, an earnest smile spread across Simon''s face.


    "But I hope you don''t mind if I go ahead and save the world anyway."


    --


    Alert: Transmigration Complete!


    Simon awoke to a body full of aches and a mouth full of dirt.


    He kept very still as his senses returned, pain covering him from head to toe. It was like he''d been run over by a car, knocked deeper into traffic, then run over by several more cars for good measure. Thoughts bleary, he wondered what the hell had happened to him ¨C before remembering the details of what the Voice had promised.


    ''My magic no longer inherits Valtia''s champion, but an insignificant nobody of little renown.''


    He was taking over for whoever this poor schmuck was. They''d died recently...and apparently, their death hadn''t been a peaceful one. In the process of replacing his existence, Simon had evidently inherited some of his injuries as well.


    It was a minor setback, but nothing too bad. This was basically the kind of starting point Simon had expected when agreeing to a flawed transmigration. He''d make it work.


    Growing accustomed to the pain, Simon contemplated opening his eyes, then decided against it. His head felt like it had the mother of all hangovers right now, and something as simple as a sunbeam might literally kill him.


    Instead, Simon focused his ears, listening to his surroundings. Everything seemed quiet. All he could hear was a light...


    Chewing?


    ...


    Simon forced one eye halfway open. Thankfully, it was dark out, with moonlight only somewhat illuminating the outdoor area. His head was spared from further agony.


    Unfortunately, there was enough light for him to catch sight of the enormous mutated rat just a stone''s throw away.


    The creature was jarringly huge. By Simon''s estimation, it was at least seven feet long and had a head larger than his torso. The rat''s fur was matted with blood, and its oversized rodent limbs bulged in strange ways, as if they were packed to bursting with muscle.


    What''s more, it was munching on a human corpse ¨C one of many corpses, now that he took a closer look. The peaceful field he was laying in was littered with six chewed-apart bodies.


    Huh, Simon thought, mildly dazed. I know adventures often start out with killing rats, but isn''t this a bit much?


    Mercifully, Stuart Not-So-Little didn''t notice that he was awake. The beast was too busy gorging itself on free food like a big furry vulture. With herculean effort, Simon forced his thoughts to remain tranquil ¨C freaking out now would be a death sentence.


    Think. Assess the situation. Most rats fled at the first sign of trouble, but for some reason, he doubted that this particular variant would. If Stuart realized that he was conscious, it would consider him a threat and sink its teeth into his intestines before he could even stand up.


    It''s fine, Simon told himself. Totally fine. If he repeated it often enough, perhaps it would come true. Options. Right. What are my options?


    Option 1: Play dead. Eventually, Stuart would have its fill of corpse-flesh and leave.


    Tempting, but risky. He had no guarantee of how much that thing could eat or how good its senses were. If it noticed Simon''s breathing...that was it. Game over.


    Option 2: Run away. Staying here was just too dangerous.


    His caveman instincts told him that this was a fantastic idea. Simon politely informed them that there was a reason cavemen weren''t known for their long-term planning skills. Even if his body wasn''t in a half-dead state, he couldn''t have outrun Stuart. If normal-sized rats were already agile, then this one probably put Olympic medalists to shame.


    Option 3: Kill it.


    Okay, but how? Assuming that he could move his aching body enough to put up a fight, Simon still didn''t have a proper weapon.


    He swept his eyes across the clearing, noting a great many shattered blades littered among the corpse pile. Nothing remained that was longer than a dagger, and he really, really didn''t want to stick his fingers close to Stuart when stabbing. That seemed like an easy way to lose them.


    Power, he suddenly recalled. I was supposed to inherit power. This Joe Schmoe might not have been a champion, but he was still an inhabitant of Valtia. Maybe he would''ve been strong enough to put up a fight. And didn''t Voice-In-The-Sky say there would be additional transmigration bonuses?


    A subtle impulse began to grow in the back of Simon''s mind, insistent and unfamiliar. With nothing to lose, he heeded its call, reaching out with a thought and grasping it.


    He stifled a gasp as lines of text began cascading down his vision.


    Simon


    Class: Fledgling


    Level: 1


    HP: 32 / 90


    MP: 50 / 50


    Strength: 12


    Dexterity: 8


    Vitality: 9


    Intelligence: 5


    Although he couldn''t be sure without testing things...all those stats looked perilously low. Single-digit numbers in RPGs were rarely a good sign. Seriously, Level 1? Hats off to the Evil gods ¨C they''d chosen their anti-champion well.


    Moving down, he checked his list of Traits. There were quite a few to look on, so he immediately honed in on the couple that were relevant to his current situation.


    Transmigrator''s Body


    -Your body has become like that of a fictional game character. Grievous wounds will not affect your combat efficacy. You barely bleed from injuries, slowly regenerate over time, and will completely restore to full health after a good night''s sleep. Lastly, you will only die when your HP reaches zero.


    Inventory


    -You may place inanimate items within touch range into a dimensional storage container. Items in storage can be produced at will. Limit of 100 pounds or 250 cubic feet of storage.


    So he would heal up nicely...if he lived. Throwing a Hail Mary, Simon accessed his Inventory, hoping against hope that something useful had been conveniently placed in it.


    No dice.


    Stuart had moved onto its next corpse. The last uneaten body aside from Simon himself.


    Still have the Skills to look at. With an internal drum roll, Simon kept reading.


    <u>Active Skills</u>


    Identify (Level MAX)


    -Transmigration bonus. Use on non-living objects to receive a short description of their attributes.


    Power Smash (Rank 1)


    -Increase the effectiveness of your next unarmed physical melee attack. 15-minute cooldown.


    --


    <u>Passive Skills</u>


    Intimidation (Rank 1)


    -Sightly raises your persuasive prowess ¨C as long as the person is scared of you.


    Grappling (Rank 2)


    -Increases grip strength.


    That was...a mild improvement. While he would''ve preferred fireballs and death lasers, beggars couldn''t be choosers. Simon doubted that Intimidate would function on an overgrown rat, but maybe Power Smash might be able to finish the job.


    Peeking carefully, Simon closely scrutinized Stuart''s condition. The plus-sized rodent had dried blood matting its fur in numerous places. There was even one broken-off sword sticking out of its flank. Stuart prey hadn''t gone down without a fight.


    But it wasn''t so injured that Simon could beat it to death with his bare hands, Power Smash or otherwise.


    Need more. Defaulting to the one Skill he could try without drawing attention to himself, Simon reached into his mind and attempted to cast Identify on a random object.


    Activating it turned out to be easier than he''d imagined. Just like how a person couldn''t describe how they ordered their brain to move their limbs, Simon used the Skill without even thinking, operating on an instinct that hadn''t existed before he was transmigrated to Valtia. Another set of words immediately appeared in front of his vision.


    Name: Broken Sword


    Description: Once a weapon, now a lump of jagged metal. Was considered poorly-made even in its prime. Damaged during an ambush by a newborn Fell Beast.


    Not super helpful, but at least the Skill works. Wasting no time, Simon went about casting Identify on every notable object in the area. He examined lifeless bodies and piles of wooden debris, searching for something that might help him. His range of vision was limited, as he didn''t want to alert Stuart by moving his head too much, so he made do with whatever was readily visible.


    In the span of a minute, Simon found three more broken swords, five sets of ruined clothes, an empty food container, a torn-apart diary, four piles of human gristle, two unsent love letters, and one very large rock.


    Oh, and a magically-enchanted piece of equipment.


    Name: Glove of Minor Strength (Left Hand)


    Description: A lesser Artifact. When activated, temporarily increases Strength by 15 points for 15 seconds. Can be used once per hour.


    He wouldn''t have been able to tell it was special without using Identify. The glove looked like any other ¨C just a brown piece of roughspun leather. From what Simon could tell, it was close to his size.


    More importantly, unlike its Right Hand sibling, it hadn''t been torn to shreds during Stuart''s rampage. And it was right next to him!


    The fun ended there, because to retrieve the glove, Simon would have to take it from its owner. Who was still wearing it. Not that the man would miss it at this point, but removing the glove would involve a degree of movement that Stuart might notice.


    Which was still a better plan than waiting to be eaten alive.


    Smooth and stealthy, Simon thought, doing his best to distract himself from the corpse''s fetid stench and glassy eyes. He reached over with agonizing slowness, as if he was disarming a live bomb, aware that his life depended on not jumping the gun. His fingers hooked around the edge of the glove, brushing against cold flesh, and began to gradually, gently tug.


    Bit by bit, the glove inched downwards. The corpse''s body wiggled slightly with each pull. No biggie, Simon distantly noted. This beats retail any day. Stuart doesn''t even rank in the Top 5 worst customers I''ve had this past month.


    As he gazed into the corpse''s tortured expression, vacant eyes staring directly forward, Simon managed to feel nothing. A distorted pride grew inside him ¨C he hadn''t known his coping mechanisms were this effective.


    With one last tug, the glove came free. Simon put it onto his left hand with equal amounts of care.


    As soon as it fit over his skin, he jumped to his feet.


    The one bright side of having way too long to mull over a desperate situation was that it afforded him plenty of time to plan. He had already considered and discarded dozens of ill-conceived ideas...leaving just the one that might succeed.


    Before Stuart could react, Simon wrapped both hands around the midsection of its bulbous tail. Grappling Rank 2 automatically made his fingers clench like an iron vice. Reaching inward, his system-granted instincts obeyed his next command.


    Activate: Glove of Minor Strength.


    At once, his body filled with otherworldly Strength, the stat more than doubling. Simon''s mouth split into a wild, savage grin as he lifted with every muscle in his body.


    Stuart belted out a hideous screech. The rat could do nothing as it rose upwards, its serrated claws scrambling at air.


    Activate: Power Smash.


    Simon aimed for the large rock located just feet away.


    His grin widened further as Stuart''s skull cracked against sharp-edged stone. Bloodied bone fragments were sent flying, splattering the dirt with red-stained shards of white. The force of the blow bounced Stuart back up as its frantic scrambling intensified.


    Twelve seconds left until the Glove wears off.


    Simon pivoted, turning in a circle to keep his momentum. When he''d completed a rotation, he slammed Stuart''s skull onto that same sharp-edged rock. This blow wasn''t enhanced by Power Smash, but a sickening crunch still echoed throughout the air, sounding to Simon like a bell of victory.


    Nine seconds left.


    Once more, he pivoted, turned, and slammed.


    Six seconds.


    Pivot, turn, slam.


    Three.


    A final crack serenaded his ears.


    Stuart stopped struggling.


    Simon let go, his Strength leaving him. The rat''s corpse flopped to the ground in a heap. Its head had caved inwards, a half-ruined brain visible through the gaping hole in its skull.


    A system alert confirmed his victory.


    Newborn Fell Beast has been slain!


    Your Level and Stats have increased!


    Level: 1 ¡ú 2


    Strength: 12 ¡ú 15


    Dexterity: 8 ¡ú9


    Simon felt the muscles in his body rapidly harden. It was like he''d gone through months of gym training in a matter of seconds. The sensation of growing that much stronger in an instant was intoxicating beyond anything he''d experienced on Earth.


    And it was nothing compared to the elation swelling within his soul.


    Level 2. Simon gaped at the system notification as if it was Santa Claus himself coming to deliver presents. He flexed his muscles, relishing in his newfound power. From defeating a single enemy, he had become, objectively, a stronger person than before.


    Progress. Tangible progress. Something besides just sitting in his room, obsessing over how the future would play out. Killing one giant rat in the wilderness wasn''t going to further his end goals, but by taking that first step towards improving himself...


    Those goals no longer seemed so far out of reach.


    Simon took a seat on Stuart''s twitching body. Blood and corpses surrounded him. There was no sign of civilization anywhere in sight. He was alone and without any apparent supplies. He''d almost died mere seconds after transmigrating. If his plan had failed, Stuart would''ve turned around and ripped his flesh to pieces. And for all he knew, there could be more monstrous creatures lurking just outside of view.


    A laughter of pure joy escaped his throat, filling the cool night air.


    "I think I''m gonna like it here."

 Chapter 2

    Simon let himself soak in the moment for a full, glorious minute.


    It was surprisingly difficult to switch gears and get down to business afterwards. A part of him wanted nothing more than to sit there and remember the Strength coursing through his arms. To savor the thrill of felling a Beast and increasing his Level. To indulge in that liberating feeling of progress after years of stagnation.


    Perhaps he would have ¨C if not for the overwhelming scent of blood and death around him. Even with his eyes closed, it reminded Simon of where he was now. This wasn''t a world that let people take things at their own pace. Make one mistake, and you could wind up as a side dish in a monster''s buffet.


    Before doing anything else, Simon stood up and slowly turned in a circle, carefully examining the surrounding environment. Without a giant killer rat taking up the bulk of his attention, he was free to take a good look at where and what he''d been dropped into.


    There honestly wasn''t much to see. He couldn''t spot a single tree or landmark nearby; just an endless expanse of barren nothing.


    The ground consisted of two wildly different biomes that alternated without rhyme or reason ¨C both of them lifeless. Most parts were made up of dry, parched soil. The rest was what appeared to be black, hardened rock, as if lava had flowed over the area and cooled. Errant tufts of sickly-green grass were visible in certain places, but they were fighting a losing battle against what seemed to be a certifiable wasteland.


    If civilization existed in this neck of Valtia, then he was a long hike away from it.


    Initially, Simon thought that was a double-edged sword. No trees or landmarks meant nowhere to hide if another Fell Beast attacked. On the other hand, it also meant that he would be able to see them coming well in advance. No surprise ambushes.


    Then he realized that the half-dozen corpses laying at his feet had been afforded the same advantage ¨C and Stuart massacred them anyway. He shouldn''t make assumptions about what the Beasts were capable of.


    If he didn''t find safe shelter soon...


    The temptation to pick a direction and start running was ruthlessly quashed. He wouldn''t benefit from panicking like a headless chicken. If Simon wanted to live long enough to feel progress again, then he needed to stay relaxed, assess the situation, and produce an actionable plan that would maximize his chances of survival.


    First: evaluate what resources I have available. Starting with the most important resource of all.


    Himself.


    Character Sheet.


    Simon


    Class: Fledgling


    Level: 2


    HP: 33 / 90


    MP: 50 / 50


    Strength: 15


    Dexterity: 9


    Vitality: 9


    Intelligence: 5


    He scrutinized each line in order, searching for meaning within the floating screens of text. Voice-In-The-Sky''s tutorial on the System hadn''t been very extensive. Granted, it would''ve explained more if things had gone as planned...and Simon didn''t help matters by hurrying the Voice along before it could back out of the transmigration.


    That was okay. He''d make do.


    ''Class: Fledgling'' seemed self-evident. Classes in RPG games typically referred to vocations such as Warrior, Archer, Mage, etc. As a low-Level novice, Simon''s ''Fledgling'' indicated that he wasn''t good at anything in particular. Presumably, that would change once he grew stronger and gained more Levels.


    It was too early to wonder what type of Class he should aim for. Simon had no idea what would be most effective in a world like this. While magic was usually powerful in fictional fantasy stories, Valtia was very much real. He didn''t want to make guesses based on faulty information and wind up preemptively shooting himself in the foot.


    ''Level: 2'' brought a rekindled smile to his face. Minutes into his new life, and he was already stronger than before. Voice-In-The-Sky hadn''t been lying about a transmigrator''s capacity for growth.


    Just have to live long enough to realize my potential. What was the best way to increase Levels in Valtia? If it was anything like the games he''d played, then earning EXP was a byproduct of indiscriminate slaughter.


    As the smell of death assaulted his senses once more, Simon had an inkling that he might be given the chance to test that theory soon.


    ''HP'' he would come back to later, as it related to one of his Traits. ''MP'' was probably his resource for using magic, but after some quick experimentation with flailing hands and fruitless concentrating, Simon determined that he didn''t know any spells.


    With any luck, that would change in time as well. He was still holding out hope for a mega-laser.


    ''Strength'' and ''Dexterity'' were easy to understand. Power and speed. Without access to in-depth testing facilities, though, he wouldn''t know exactly how much something like 15 Strength was worth. The Glove''s boost had let him temporarily lift Stuart, so at least it was nothing to sneeze at.


    ''Vitality'' and ''Intelligence'' likely correlated to his HP and MP. Simon doubted that Intelligence represented his actual intelligence; rather, it was a catch-all term for his proficiency in spellcasting and magic. Otherwise, he reserved the right to be offended over it being his lowest stat.


    Speaking of stats... He thought back to when he leveled up after killing Stuart. His Strength had increased by 3, and his Dexterity by 1. Would he gain 4 more stat points with every Level? Was it automated? Or was there a way to control how his stats were allocated?


    Simon looked upwards. "You there, Voice-In-The-Sky?" he hazarded. "I''ve got some System questions that need answers."


    Silence.


    No surprise there. The Voice had explicitly stated that both the Good and Evil gods were restricted from directly interfering in contested worlds. Simon was on his own.


    The thought didn''t bother him very much. He''d been on his own for a while now.


    Progressing further down his Character Sheet, Simon began perusing the Traits section. Didn''t even have to skim this time! It was nice not having to rush through as he watched a ravenous Fell Beast munch on people in his peripheral vision.


    <u>Traits</u>


    System Integration


    -To facilitate growth and ease of use, your abilities and personal parameters have been integrated into a game-centric System.


    The Voice''s System was already paying dividends. Without using Identify ¨C which had been specified as a ''Transmigration bonus'' ¨C Simon wouldn''t have noticed the Glove of Minor Strength. Without the Glove, he wouldn''t have had enough raw power to kill Stuart. Without a way to kill Stuart, he would have been forced to take his chances by running.


    And he wouldn''t have gotten far. No different than the mangled bodies surrounding him.


    Life in Valtia for the average person seemed as harsh as he''d been told to expect.


    Transmigrator''s Body


    -Your body has become like that of a fictional game character. Grievous wounds will not affect your combat efficacy. You barely bleed from injuries, slowly regenerate over time, and will completely restore to full health after a good night''s sleep. Lastly, you will only die when your HP reaches zero.


    Simon grinned. Transmigrator''s Body meant that even if he got put through the wringer, he would be back on his feet in 24 hours, max. He could take all sorts of stupid risks and still win as long as he didn''t outright die.


    Not that he was going to take stupid risks. His risks were always supremely well-calculated. No matter what other people said.


    Although...something about ''you will only die when your HP reaches zero'' gave him pause. He wasn''t sure why. Would need to theorize more when time permitted.


    Sworn to Secrecy


    -The existence of other worlds, and the transmigration process in general, cannot be revealed in any capacity to the natives of Valtia. Your clothing has been replaced by Valtia-appropriate attire, and incongruent off-world items have been removed from your person.


    In other words ¨C don''t rock the boat.


    Simon peered down at his clothes, seeing a simple rough shirt and woolen pants. The material was scratchy and uncomfortable compared to the luxury of modern cotton. After a brief patdown, he also confirmed that his cell phone and wallet were missing.


    Finally, he tried to verbalize the sentence "I''m from a land called Earth", only to find that he physically couldn''t. Not even to an audience of lifeless cadavers. The words stuck in his throat like a pocket of solid air.


    It was annoying but understandable. Simon could see how informing a world''s inhabitants that they were unwitting participants of a cosmic battleground might be...problematic.


    Universal Translator


    -Gain the capacity to understand all written and spoken languages in Valtia. Your speech and writing will automatically be translated to natives.


    That was a relief. He would''ve learned Valtia''s languages anyway, but doing so would take time, and illiterate people tended to be frowned upon by the closed-minded. Simon was already going to be at a major social disadvantage from having no money, connections, home, family, or supplies. He didn''t need more handicaps.


    Inventory


    -You may place inanimate items within touch range into a dimensional storage container. Items in storage can be produced at will. Limit of 100 pounds or 250 cubic feet of storage.


    A hoarder''s dream, and a must-have for any would-be game character. They often carried an absurd amount of stuff on them at all times. Some of it valuable...some of it not so valuable. Either way, it was usually more than what five people combined could have effectively transported.


    As soon as the thought came to him, Simon walked over to the nearest broken sword laying on the ground. He reached down, touching his fingers to its hilt. Activate: Inventory.


    Blue light filled the air. Within a quarter of a second, the sword had vanished, placed into dimensional storage. He experimented with the Skill for a bit longer, repeatedly bringing out and then re-storing the item until the process felt instinctual.


    Satisfied, he moved on to the next sword, placing it in Inventory as well. Damaged as the blades were, he might be able to sell them for scrap at the next town or village he found. Considering that his funds currently consisted of whatever dregs he managed to loot from Stuart''s victims, Simon would take anything he could get.


    Searching the corpses for usable supplies proved to be a grisly but necessary process. This was the first time he''d personally handled a dead body ¨C let alone six of them ¨C and he quickly decided that he wasn''t a super big fan. Regardless, Simon was thorough in examining what remained of the caravan and its crew, ensuring that he scrounged up everything he could.


    Which gave him plenty of time to contemplate the last Trait on the list.


    Heroic Valor


    -Gain additional Experience when performing acts of significant goodness and heroism.


    Simon recalled something that Voice-In-The-Sky had mentioned when addressing the people of Earth.


    ''Your capacity for growth will be unmatched in Valtia, and your power will swell when performing deeds of heroism and valor.''


    That hadn''t just been flowery language for the sake of it. The system directly rewarded Simon with bonus EXP when he acted like a hero. It was likely an added incentive so that the gods'' champion stayed on the path of righteousness.


    He was pretty sure that his near future would still involve a healthy amount of monster killing, but the existence of Heroic Valor stirred his mind with possibilities. Could he have ¨C as an example ¨C leveled up from working at Grace''s soup kitchen? How much extra EXP would he accrue from just being himself?


    A genuine smile crept up his face. He couldn''t have asked for a more perfect Trait.


    ...Though I''d be tempted to trade it for a fully-stocked grocery shopping cart. Most of the caravan''s food had either been destroyed in their scuffle with Stuart or greedily devoured by the rat itself. That left Simon with only a couple days worth of provisions ¨C if he rationed.


    He was staring at Stuart''s bloated carcass when inspiration struck. Summoning the broken sword from Inventory, he carved a small chunk of meat from the rat''s flank. Then he activated Identify, focusing on the Skill''s intent, willing it to inform him whether the Fell Beast''s flesh was edible.


    Name: Fell-Tainted Meat


    Description: A chunk of flesh from the body of a Fell Beast. Lethal to most humans when ingested. In the rare cases it doesn''t kill you, you''ll wish it had.


    Ominous and vague. Great.


    Breathing deep, Simon pushed aside the looming specter of inevitable death creeping up his neck. Don''t get bogged down in what-ifs. Take a mental step back, then draw up a plan.


    What do I need, right here, right now?


    Food. Shelter. Power. In that order.


    Things like Money and Influence would come later. He could hardly save Valtia if he starved or got murdered by Fell Beasts before ever meeting a single living person.


    What can I do to achieve my immediate short-term goals?


    Power...would be tricky. That was the problem with starting at Level 1. He couldn''t get stronger without fighting, yet he was too weak to win most fights. His victory against Stuart had been a fluke ¨C from the rat''s perspective, an enemy that it''d already killed suddenly rose from the grave and ambushed it out of nowhere.


    There was a lesson in that. If Simon wanted to overcome opponents stronger than him, he needed to avoid direct confrontations. As a Level 2 outsider, the element of surprise would be his number one ally.


    Alternatively, Heroic Valor might help him gain Levels without having to risk his life...but there weren''t many deeds of ''significant goodness and heroism'' he could pull off in an empty wasteland. Had to find other people to help first.


    Food and Shelter could also be solved by finding others. He wouldn''t gamble on the magnanimity of random strangers ¨C especially in what was presumably a cold, harsh world ¨C but people were usually receptive to a fair deal. Worst came to worst, he could trade items with them or offer his services for a fee.


    Eating Stuart''s flesh would be a last resort. It couldn''t hurt to stow some within Inventory, just in case, but only for if his body grew so weak that he couldn''t walk anymore. What he actually needed was non-tainted nourishment; made by humans, for humans.


    People. Civilization. Where''s the closest settlement? How do I reach it?


    He hadn''t found a map or compass among the caravan''s ruined supplies. Its shredded, bloodstained papers may have been a map once upon a time, but no longer. At least the unsent love letters had endured Stuart''s wrath ¨C Simon was looking forward to reading them when he wasn''t so busy trying not to die.


    No landmarks I can see, and no compass. Even with a map, they would''ve been lost traveling through here. What did they use to navigate?


    Maybe someone with a Tracking Skill, assuming that ability existed. If so, and if they''d been traveling without the need for basic navigational implements...then Simon had no usable information to go off of. He really would be picking a random direction and praying for the best.


    Unless...


    Simon examined the surrounding environment once more. If he squinted, he could kinda make out something resembling a road threading across the land. There were markings of wear-and-tear on the ground indicating that people had tread there before. It was so faint that he nearly second-guessed himself, unsure if he wasn''t imagining things to make himself feel better.


    In the end, what persuaded him was one of the fallen humans. Their corpse was situated a little further down the ''road'' ¨C as if they''d been attempting to flee in that direction when the Fell Beast caught them.


    It''ll have to do.


    After gathering as much of Stuart''s meat as Inventory could carry, Simon set off in a forward march. His soft footsteps rang like gunshots through the quiet night. He didn''t look back as he left the dead behind him, feeling no need to pay his respects or say farewell.


    Not when he would probably be joining them soon enough.


    He intended to fight tooth and nail to survive ¨C but that didn''t change the facts. For all Simon knew, the next town might be weeks of travel away. Months, even. The desolate wasteland extending out to the horizon didn''t exactly paint an optimistic picture. And if he didn''t find food before reaching civilization?


    Then he would starve. No amount of gumption or a can-do attitude could alter his fundamental need for caloric intake.


    No, wait, scratch that. He would die of thirst long before. People dehydrated much faster than they starved. Apparently, it was a rather miserable way to go.


    Yet even though Voice-In-The-Sky''s warnings about the transmigration were turning out to be depressingly accurate...


    Simon had no regrets.


    Because at least he''d seized an opportunity when it presented itself. Because at least he''d taken action rather than watching his dreams wither and decay over a course of decades.


    Because at least he''d tried.


    --


    Hours of solitude passed by. The dark of night enveloped Simon as he marched onwards, almost like a tangible presence walking alongside him.


    Mercifully, it was the only companion he had at the moment. Lonely darkness was much preferable to being visited by one of Stuart''s relatives.


    Although I doubt the other Fell Beasts are all big rats, he mused. The name implies something more varied than that. Based on Stuart''s appearance...a collection of mutated animals? But the Voice spoke as if Valtia was facing an existential threat. He wouldn''t have needed to airdrop a champion over here just to run pest control. I''m definitely missing context.


    When Simon eventually acquired some money and established himself, his first order of business would be hiring someone to explain Valtia in excruciating detail to him. Exposition-on-demand. Putting together the pieces of a puzzle was one thing, but his current ruminations were closer to guesswork derived from ignorance. Garbage information tended to produce garbage conclusions.


    Aside from theorizing and keeping an eye out for ambushes, though, there wasn''t much else to occupy his mind. Simon had grown up in a crowded, bustling city. He was used to distractions competing for his attention every second of the day.


    To him, twilight didn''t mean peaceful silence ¨C it meant ambulances and police sirens wailing in the distance. He would need time to adjust from ''city kid'' to ''rural hiker''.


    The sight of a clear moonlit sky was helping with that.


    Despite knowing that he should be watching for Fell Beasts in the distance, Simon''s gaze kept drifting upwards. This was the first time he''d witnessed a night sky free of city light pollution. The stars were vibrant, numerous, and beautiful, like a tapestry of twinkling worlds stretching infinitely across the cosmos.


    And among that sea of stars, what stood out most of all was the moon; the tapestry''s centerpiece, an orb of dazzling silver that fought to dispel the encroaching darkness of night. Looking up now, it was easy to comprehend why so many societies throughout history had worshiped the moon as a sort of deity. Before telescopes and astronomy and space voyages demystified the unfathomable, how could someone have gazed upon a vista like this and been anything but awestruck?


    In retrospect, Simon did have one regret from transmigrating. He wished that he''d seen a clear sky on Earth first so he could compare the two. Would the moon and stars back home have measured up to the luminescent marvel filling his vision now?


    Not bad, Valtia. After being introduced to his new world in a frenzy of death and violence...this was the kind of palette cleanser he sorely appreciated. Maybe you won''t be so¨C


    He heard a sound.


    Simon whirled around. With a flash of blue light, he produced the least-broken sword from his Inventory, materializing it directly into his right hand. His left hand clenched into a fist, still wearing the Glove of Minor Strength. Staring intently, he searched the moonlit darkness.


    Nothing was there.


    He waited for something to change ¨C for a screech to resound as sharp claws and gnashing fangs came tearing out of the shadows.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Nothing. No movement, no noise. Just the incessant drum of his own heartbeat jackhammering inside his chest.


    Had he actually heard a sound? Simon told himself that as he slowly turned back around, resuming his journey. His mind was probably just cooking up noises to entertain itself. The subconscious nostalgia of a city-goer, pining for ambulances and police sirens.


    As he continued walking, however...he kept his gaze fixated at ground-level.


    --


    Earlier, Simon had peered up at the starry night sky and wondered how it compared to Earth''s.


    But this? He doubted there was anything like this. Not anything that existed in nature.


    A lone tree was growing out of the arid, rocky wasteland. It looked healthy and strong. That would have been improbable enough as it was ¨C except that the tree was also glowing. A bright yellow radiance shone from every inch of its leaves and bark, like it was covered with thousands of invisible lightbulbs.


    Safety.


    The notion came to Simon unbidden, as if nudged into his head by a foreign presence. This tree was safe. Safe. Safe. It beckoned him forward, inviting the transmigrator to rest under its boughs, take a breather, and relax.


    He forced himself to step back. Much as he wanted to believe that this was his literal light in the darkness...it seemed way too convenient.


    Could be a Venus flytrap scenario. Getting mind-controlled by a carnivorous tree hadn''t been on the Valtia bingo card, but he was in a land of fantasy now. Weirder things were possible.


    Thankfully, he possessed a method of objectively verifying information. Identify.


    Name: Sanctuary Tree


    Description: The remnant of a Sanctuary Grove. Contains sacred mana that provides refuge from Fell creatures. To humans, it is harmless and beneficial.


    Simon''s eyebrows lifted with surprise. Not only was the tree legit, but it had also once been part of something greater. This was direct evidence that Valtia was in decline ¨C as if everything else wasn''t already proof enough.


    After several moments of consideration, he made an executive decision and approached the Sanctuary Tree. The sun wasn''t close to rising yet, and while Simon could pull an all-nighter if necessary, he needed to pace himself. Finding the nearest town would be a marathon, not a sprint, and proper sleep would help keep his body in tip-top condition.


    He cautiously settled down with his back resting against the tree''s trunk. When it didn''t open up to reveal a maw of hungry teeth, Simon allowed himself to let out a relieved sigh, fatigue flowing out of him in waves.


    Blue light briefly mingled with yellow as he accessed Inventory. Simon produced a relatively unbloodied cloak taken from one of the deceased caravan members. It would serve as a headwrap to cover his eyes ¨C sleeping under the Sanctuary Tree''s glow would be difficult otherwise.


    He also produced the unread love letters. With any luck, their contents would give him clues regarding the world he now inhabited. And even if they didn''t...


    Who didn''t enjoy a bit of gossip? Maybe it was gauche to snoop on a dead man''s private, bare-your-soul writings, but it wasn''t like the guy was around to feel embarrassed about it.


    Yeah. This should do nicely. Simon looked up at the tree''s leaf-laden canopy and gave it a thumbs-up. Thanks for the assist. Smiling over his first victory that hadn''t involved bludgeoning an oversized rodent to death, he lowered his gaze to stare out at the road.


    Four crimson-red eyes stared back at him.


    It was impossible to see what manner of Beast they were attached to. The monster''s bodily form was shrouded in thick, unnatural fog. No sound had heralded its arrival. One moment, the road was empty, and the next moment, it was here.


    Shock pierced Simon''s chest like a knife ¨C yet he still took action. Without skipping a beat, he stood up and summoned the fractured sword from his Inventory, assuming a battle-ready position.


    The Fell Beast''s crimson eyes remained motionless. Two glared at Simon, and the other two at the Sanctuary Tree.


    All four were filled with a deep, cavernous hunger.


    Perhaps five seconds passed. Perhaps five minutes ¨C or even five hours. To Simon, watching and waiting for the Beast to strike, it would have felt the same.


    He blinked.


    The creature was gone.


    Simon didn''t get much sleep that night.


    --


    After awakening from a fitful slumber the next morning, the first thing he did was check to see if he was still in one piece.


    While Identity had assured him that the Sanctuary Tree would protect him from Fell Beasts, Simon was still happy to note that he hadn''t been nibbled on overnight. What''s more, either the tree or Transmigrator''s Body had healed his body of its aches and pains, bringing his HP up to full.


    This was a place of refuge. If he stayed here, no harm would come to him.


    With haste, Simon gathered his belongings and left the Sanctuary Tree behind.


    It was the toughest decision he''d made thus far. Nothing outside the tree''s range of protection felt remotely safe ¨C he was practically jumping at the sound of his own footsteps. The soothing light of the morning sun did little to dispel the paranoia that had taken root within his heart.


    "Not paranoia if it''s real", he muttered to himself. The Fell Beast had effortlessly snuck up on him twice now. Simon wasn''t even sure how its abilities functioned...or why it hadn''t completed its hunt yet.


    However, in spite of his reservations, there was no ultimately choice in the matter. The show must go on. His rations wouldn''t last forever, and he wasn''t so lucky that another caravan would happen to stumble upon him.


    Guess the tree was a Venus flytrap after all. Just a benevolent one. It would have kept him warm, safe, and content as he gradually wasted away.


    Besides ¨C even if he was lucky enough for a second caravan to cross paths with him, would they be so charitable as to rescue a vagrant wanderer? Or would they be rightfully suspicious of a sketchy man unable to explain his purpose or origins?


    If there was one thing Simon knew from personal experience, one thing he was more certain of than anything else in the world...it was that you couldn''t rely on the kindness of strangers.


    No one was coming to rescue him. He would have to save himself.


    Which was another reason why he''d opted to leave the Sanctuary Tree. Last night hadn''t been a total wash. Specifically, the love letters of one dear, departed Ardyn Cobblestone had proved very enlightening.


    First, Simon learned that Ardyn ¨C despite seeming rough around the edges ¨C possessed the soul of a poet. If sweet Relia had ever gotten the chance to read his letters, surely she would have been smitten! Alas, it was not meant to be. His love would go unrequited, like words of affirmation written in snow, yet melting under the changing seasons. It was a drama so tragic that it brought tears to the eye.


    Oh, and Simon had also learned why their caravan was out here to begin with.


    That was mildly important too.


    He followed the road for many anxiety-inducing hours after departing from the Sanctuary Tree. Simon didn''t know how close his destination was, or if the Fell Beast was still stalking him. Checking around constantly for ambushes almost felt like a futile endeavor. If the creature truly wanted him dead, a Level 2 vagabond with a broken sword wasn''t going to put up much of a fight.


    But for whatever reason, he was left untouched. And after nearly half a day of walking...he had arrived.


    Simon stood before what appeared to be the entrance to an underground cave system. A stone structure twenty feet tall and wide was built into the ground, with the entrance itself being a small opening in the center.


    Evidently, it had been here for quite some time. Simon could see signs of wear and tear on the exterior stone sections, and the remains of a destroyed iron gate was visible in front of the cave''s entrance.


    Two glowing orbs that reminded him of the Sanctuary Tree were embedded on both sides of the entrance.


    Identify.


    Name: Warding Orb


    Description: An Artifact imbued with sacred mana. Wards off Fell Beasts. Will be fully depleted of energy within approximately one year''s time.


    Simon attempted to pull out the Warding Orbs and take them along, but even when using the Glove of Power, they stayed lodged in tight. Using Inventory on them didn''t work either, as they''d been fused to the stone structure. Whoever put them there did not want them removed.


    Disappointing, but not a setback. The Orbs would''ve just been a nice bonus ¨C they weren''t the reason he''d come here. He thought back to the very first line of Ardyn''s letter.


    ''If your eyes are gracing this parchment, Relia, it means that our plunder of Caelryn Cave and its riches was a success.''


    Ardryn''s caravan had been on a treasure-hunting mission. That was why they''d been traveling on this road, and this cave was where they''d been headed before Stuart found them. Whatever was down there ¨C money, Artifacts, both ¨C was valuable enough to seek out as an organized group.


    Simon knew that heading inside would be a gamble. Even if nothing dangerous lurked within the walls of Caelryn Cave, it would be time spent where his body consumed vital energy. He wasn''t that hungry or thirsty yet, but that would change fast once his rations dwindled.


    He still only hesitated a moment before proceeding. His decision had already been made well before reaching the cave''s entrance.


    What do I need right here, right now? Simon recalled the question he''d asked himself yesterday. While Food and Shelter were his top priorities, Power wasn''t far behind. He wouldn''t last long in Valtia without it. Especially as a homeless, penniless outsider. Forget the Fell Beasts ¨C normal people on the street would walk all over him.


    Whatever prize resided underground could solve that problem in one fell swoop. If Caelryn Cave housed a strong battle-related Artifact, like the Glove but better, then he wouldn''t have to fear for his life anymore. He could defeat Fell Beasts for EXP, increase his Level over time, and raise himself into the champion Valtia needed.


    And if it housed riches in the traditional sense...then he could outright buy Artifacts. Or hire people to fight with him. Being wealthy was its own kind of superpower, really.


    Just one thing gave him pause. A message carved onto the outside of the cave, simply reading:


    ''TURN BACK.''


    Simon acknowledged the warning and promptly stepped inside.


    If Voice-In-The-Sky couldn''t convince him to exercise caution, then a vague, faded scribble certainly wasn''t going to cut it.


    --


    Caelryn Cave was an odd mixture of natural rock formations and man-made hallways. Whoever worked on it in the past had taken a pre-existing cave system and widened various segments so that people could traverse deeper.


    Apparently, that had been their sole purpose here. As Simon descended, he found zero evidence of mining for ore, temporary living quarters, leftover construction tools, or any signs of life at all. The workers had built Caelryn Cave just to go as far underground as possible. Then they''d put a solid metal gate at the entrance and warned others to stay away.


    Ardyn''s caravan hadn''t been wrong. Something was hidden below these dark, claustrophobic walls.


    The confirmation should have been encouraging. Instead, the further Simon went...the more he found himself beset by a growing sense of unease.


    It wasn''t that he disliked spelunking or felt concerned about losing his direction. The cave was a straight shot down with no branching pathways to get lost in. And it wasn''t that he thought a Fell Beast might pop out from around any given corner. In truth, thanks to the Warding Orbs at the entrance, he was probably safer here than outside.


    Yet an icy shiver was running up his spine. No matter how hard he tried to calm himself, he was plagued by a pervasive, ever-present feeling that he should not be here.


    Maybe it was because of all the skeletons.


    Arydn hadn''t been the first to try exploring Caelryn Cave. Not even close. After an hour of exploring, Simon had encountered no less than nine piles of human bones. Some alone, some in small groups.


    Every last one of them had died to traps left behind by whoever built this place. Wall arrows, spike pits, spring-loaded blades...


    Points for variety, I suppose.


    With each skeleton Simon found, he did two things. He would start by storing their ancient equipment inside Inventory. The metal was rusted, practically falling apart, but perhaps a blacksmith would be willing to purchase it as scrap.


    Once his looting was completed, he would then make sure to express his profound gratitude to the fallen adventurers. Partially for the extra supplies...


    But mostly for saving his life. Simon knew full well that being late to the party was the main reason he still lived. By setting off the traps beforehand, these brave, ill-fated souls had cleared the way for him to descend unimpeded.


    In some cases, they''d literally cleared the way for him. Several pathways appeared as if they''d once been blocked off. Likely due to the original builders detonating periodic cave-ins to prevent people from advancing.


    Whoever made Caelryn Cave REALLY didn''t want anyone finding what was at the bottom.


    Skeleton #12 was what made Simon finally stop and examine his actions. In the middle of relieving the corpse of its valuables, he glanced down, locked eyes with its empty sockets...and saw his own future reflected back at him.


    What in the world was he doing? Sooner or later, he would trip over a trap that hadn''t been set off yet. It was only a matter of time. He knew that ¨C but he''d been more focused on the prospect of reaching the grand prize at the end than ensuring he didn''t gore himself on a spike pit.


    It was almost like¨C


    Simon froze, a burst of realization halting his steps.


    The transmigrator hurriedly emptied himself of all thoughts. His mind became a blank canvas devoid of emotion.


    Seconds later, a notion came to him. It reminded him of the Sanctuary Tree''s calming aura ¨C except with a wholly different intent. Whereas the tree had offered rest and repose, this Notion prodded him along, encouraging him to dive ever deeper. It stood stark on his blank canvas, a stain of wriggling black amongst tranquil white.


    And it didn''t belong to him.


    This was why the cave had attracted so many doomed spelunkers. It subconsciously influenced them to ignore their better instincts. Anyone with a hint of self-preservation would have turned back at the first or second skeleton, but a dozen people and counting had pressed on, heedless of how they were throwing their lives away.


    Just like Simon.


    With a start, he noticed that the cave''s hallways were illuminated despite a lack of any visible light sources. As if the glow of an anglerfish was tempting him to approach. Why didn''t I catch that there were no torches or magic orbs or whatever? This is...


    He swiftly banished the invading Notion from his mind. It wasn''t difficult now that he knew what to look for. The influence wasn''t mind control ¨C merely a persistent whisper in his ear. Like a little devil on his shoulder, saying: What''s the worst that could happen?


    Simon took a seat on the uncomfortable stone floor, crossing his legs. Alright.


    Decision time.


    Caelryn Cave was contradictory. Built to hide something, yet with an aura that enticed people to delve further into its depths. The builders wouldn''t have put that Notion here, which indicated another entity was also at play. Probably still in the cave.


    It wants me to reach the bottom. But the builders didn''t. They hadn''t wanted anyone to reach the bottom ¨C including themselves. People squirreling away money or Artifacts wouldn''t have collapsed some of the pathways, making it significantly harder for them to retrieve their own possessions.


    ''Turn Back'', the message on the entrance had said.


    Simon recognized that he should do just that. He''d procured enough pieces of scrap to sell for meager startup funds, at least. The prudent choice would be to leave Caelryn Cave, locate the nearest town, and gradually find his footing in Valtia''s society. Take it slow and steady.


    He didn''t hesitate. Simon stood up, brushed off his pants, and started walking.


    Forward.


    There were methods to set off traps from a safe distance. They all seemed pressure-activated, so periodically tossing the skeletons ahead of him would work like a charm. With a bit of planning, discretion, and forethought, he should be able to beat the odds.


    Of course, beating the odds might not lead to riches or Artifacts. Yet even if this Cave''s treasure wasn''t what he''d initially expected...that didn''t mean he couldn''t turn it to his advantage. New ideas were already churning in Simon''s brain.


    It was with some amusement that he noted his anxiety had vanished. Now that his mind was set, there was no point in entertaining indecisiveness. Either he would discover something amazing and reap the rewards, or he would add to the cave''s extensive skeleton collection. Simple as that.


    The dice had been cast, and only time would reveal whether they landed on double sixes or snake eyes.


    A less self-aware person would have blamed the Notion for their recklessness. Simon knew better. He could tell when a decision came solely from himself.


    And the idea of turning back was utterly revolting to him.


    He hadn''t tricked a god into transmigrating him so he could go slow and steady.


    --


    Huh. A wry smile inched up Simon''s face. This must be what it''s like to win the lottery.


    Seventeen skeletons in total. Twice that many traps.


    Yet none set off by him. The previous adventurers had ''disarmed'' all of them.


    Simon was the lucky contestant who got to win the prize.


    The bottom of Caelryn Cave led to a thick metal wall barring his path ¨C a last line of defense. Time had been unkind to it as well, the once-sturdy material now rusted and brittle.


    Activate: Glove of Minor Strength. Muscles straining, he managed to break open a hole without too much effort. It was easier than anticipated. As if something besides the passage of time had also been relentlessly chipping away at the wall.


    Yeah. Simon had a decent idea of what awaited him in the next room beyond. He breathed in, composing himself and stifling his nerves.


    First impressions were important.


    The metal let out a tortured creak as he shoved it aside. Simon squeezed through the opening¨C


    Then immediately stopped short at what he saw.


    A wide, hundred-foot cavern stretched out before him. In its center was a cylindrical cage of light that rose up to the ceiling. And in the center of that...


    An inferno of pitch-blackness. Darker than the void of space. Hot yet cold, powerful yet weak, alive yet dead. The paradox of existence constrained into a form of heat and malice. Deep in the marrow of his bones, something primal told Simon that these were flames that could reduce a world to ashes.


    Inside its cage of light, the inferno began to stir.


    "My, my. An auspicious day indeed." Melodic laughter echoed outwards, prickling Simon''s skin like a thousand jabbing needles. "Come sit, why don''t you? It''s been quite some time since I''ve had company...and we have much to discuss."


    Almost by reflex, he cast Identify.


    Searing pain exploded behind his eyes. It was so intense and all-consuming that he momentarily blacked out ¨C fortunately sparing him from further agony. The sensation was blindingly quick and abrupt, like a gunshot barreling through his skull.


    Then, just as quickly, it subsided. His sight returned. A system window was hovering in front of him.


    Name: Sealed Demon of Ruination


    Description: They told you to turn back.


    Estimated Level: 89


    No surprise there.


    "Don''t mind if I do." Nodding, Simon casually strode forward, forcing his expression to remain impassive. It wasn''t wise to show your full emotions during negotiations, and right now, his body was absolutely flooded with an electrifying blend of fear and adrenaline.


    This room was danger. This room was death.


    This room was opportunity.

 Chapter 3

    It took around ten seconds for Simon to approach. In that time, he covertly examined the cavern with Identify, searching for anything that could give him an edge.


    All he found of note were hundreds of Warding Orbs surrounding the Sealed Demon''s cage of light. Each was placed on the cage''s border, and each had merely one year remaining before its energy was depleted ¨C same as the Orbs guarding Caelryn Cave''s entrance.


    Crucial information, to be sure...but probably not something he should tell the Demon. Either it was aware of the time limit on its prison, or it wasn''t, and thus had no idea of how much longer it would be trapped. If so, better to say nothing and leave it ignorant and potentially desperate.


    Which unfortunately left Simon with little to work with. While knowledge of the Orbs'' inevitable failure might become imperative in the future, it wouldn''t be particularly useful during the negotiations to come.


    I''ll just have to improvise.


    Simon made it halfway across the cavern, then stopped. Any nearer and the heat radiating from the Demon''s inferno would''ve caused him to sweat buckets.


    Its overwhelming aura of power was close to doing that already. If the Sanctuary Tree had been an entity of rest and repose, then this Demon was the opposite. Oppressive, dominating, and pitiless. Anyone entering this cavern wouldn''t have needed Identify to realize that they had stumbled across the lair of a merciless tyrant.


    Empty posturing. Nothing you haven''t seen before.


    Simon forcefully shrugged off the aura''s effect. With a casual motion, he sat down and produced a cracked cup from his Inventory ¨C spare junk that he''d picked up from Ardyn''s caravan. "To first meetings and new beginnings," he called out, raising his cup in a toast.


    The Demon''s flames seemed to freeze momentarily. Low laughter emanated from within its cage, triggering Simon''s flight-or-flight response as if a gun was pointed directly at his forehead.


    "To first meetings and new beginnings," echoed a distorted, sonorous voice. A tendril of fire stretched forward, taking on the silhouette of a hand holding an ornate goblet.


    Grinning, Simon ''clinked'' his cup against the air, then stowed it back in Inventory. "You want to kick off the proceedings?" he offered. "I''m sure you''ve got a lot you want to say."


    The inferno blazed with frustrated mirth. "Quite the understatement there. After a century or two of confinement, you start losing hope of ever again conversing with another living creature. No matter what comes of this talk of ours, I am truly grateful for your presence here."


    It didn''t appear to be lying. That still didn''t mean it wasn''t manipulating Simon so that he viewed the Demon in a favorable light. The best lies were told through truth.


    He also detected an undercurrent of anguish to its tone that it couldn''t fully hide. The Demon was in pain. Constant, neverending pain. Simon would''ve bet good money on the cage of Warding Orbs being the cause.


    "Before we proceed ¨C I must address a possible concern of yours. This is likely your first encounter with a Demon, which means your thoughts are rife with misinformation and paranoia. The weightiness of our aura can feel...stifling. However, rest assured that the untoward rumors of my kind have been greatly exaggerated."


    The flames lowered in temperature by just a few degrees, as if trying to appear benign while still projecting an intimidating atmosphere. "For example, do not conflate Demons with the feral, mindless Fell Beasts you have witnessed thus far. To do so would be the highest of insults. You may as well compare humans with the primeval apes of the Lost Frontier."


    It opted for a vaguely encouraging tone. "And you needn''t worry about unwittingly entering into a Contract. It shall be very, very apparent when one is presented to you. The magic only becomes binding when both parties willingly agree to its terms. Lastly, whether or not you accept my Contract will be wholly your decision."


    Based on the Demon''s inflection, Simon could tell that ''Contract'' was being spoken with a capital ''c''. There was powerful meaning contained in that word.


    A magical binding contract wasn''t a concept he was unfamiliar with. He could guess at the broad strokes and implications. Until the Demon explained it in greater detail, though, anything else he imagined would be no more than conjecture.


    Whole conversation is going to be like this, Simon mused. Lots of terms being thrown around that I''ll have to figure out through context clues.


    It wasn''t all bad. He''d been wanting someone to tell him more about Valtia. Would make negotiating slightly more difficult, but, well...


    Fake it ''till you make it.


    "Thanks for the assurance," Simon replied, his mouth spreading into a genial smile. "That''s how I like to do things. Fair and equitable on both sides."


    "I think I like you already. You''re definitely more personable than the last humans who graced my presence, at any rate."


    For a Level 89 Demon of Ruination, a terrifying conflagration of vast power, who had presumably run amok during his heydey...its manner of speaking seemed awfully informal. Was that typical of people here, or was the creature altering its verbiage in order to appeal to a human''s sensibilities?


    With a hint of amusement, Simon realized that this was going to set his baseline for talking to denizens of Valtia. Whoever he met next would have big shoes to fill.


    "A little politeness goes a long way. Why start off a conversation with insults or disrespect?" Simon beamed. "When you insult someone, it should be after you get to know them. Then it''ll be laser-targeted. It''ll hurt."


    The Demon ''nodded'', its flames gyrating up and down. "Although certainly enjoyable, grinding someone underfoot using raw power is...rote. Perfunctory. Annihilating their existence with but a single sentence? That requires planning, preparation, and panache. Agonizing truths are the implements wielded by those of wit and refinement."


    Its flames shaped into an arm, which it swept across an approximation of its chest. "Before I forget ¨C my congratulations on making it to the bottom of this godforsaken cave. Your arrival here is most serendipitous."


    Simon''s mouth twitched. Serendipitous? he thought. Not really. Nothing about this meeting was an accident. You were responsible for half of it.


    The gods of Evil were responsible for the rest.


    It wasn''t a coincidence that Simon had transmigrated into a member of Ardyn''s doomed caravan. The Evil gods'' intentions had primarily been to have him inherit the power of a weakling rather than a champion...but they could''ve picked any random schlub who''d recently croaked for that.


    Instead, they chose someone who had perished suspiciously close to Caelryn Cave. Yes, Simon was then likely to die at Stuart''s fangs, but if he lived? Well, he would probably follow the road. Find the cave. Be affected by the Demon''s subconscious persuasion.


    Reach the bottom.


    The gods of Evil had wanted this meeting. So did the Demon. Simon was being manipulated by not one, but two malicious higher powers.


    Defying their expectations would be immensely gratifying.


    "Serendipitous?" Simon tilted his head. "Was I wrong about your subtle mind magic, then?"


    The inferno flared with surprise ¨C before settling into a sort of smug satisfaction. "How did you like it? Few can exercise control of mana to that degree of distance and power, especially when weakened as I am now. The subconscious suggestion within this cave isn''t even my proudest feat. I''ve lured many an adventurer by transmitting dreams of plunder and riches to the humans at nearby settlements."


    Its excitement simmered. "But...you knew it was a lie? And you ventured here nonetheless."


    "Yup."


    Uproarious laughter resounded from the demonic flames. "I shall amend a previous statement ¨C I *know* I like you."


    "Same to you," Simon affirmed. Which wouldn''t change his plans, but it seemed a likable enough fellow...aside from all the adventurers it had indirectly murdered. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"


    "Someone who once controlled half the Severed Isles of Valtia." The Demon''s voice filled with interest. "Tell me. Do any of these names sound familiar to you? Kirkelas the Conqueror? Ragnoth the Everlasting Flame? Or perhaps simply ''The Demon of Ruination''?"


    After a brief moment of consideration, Simon decided that this talk would go more smoothly if he admitted ignorance about certain topics. Based on the Demon''s tone, it wasn''t expecting much here. "Can''t say I''ve heard of those names."


    "Of course." The flames intensified with heat and fury. "May the Ancient One take Duke Helmund and his festering, maggot-ridden soul. He must have suppressed any knowledge of me after my sealing. Several generations later, and I am no more spoken of than a common footpad."


    It sighed. "So be it. Does Helmund still rule the Severed Isles?"


    Simon didn''t have a clue, but this time the Demon did seem to be expecting confirmation, even though this Duke Helmund had apparently sealed him centuries ago. "Yeah, he''s still alive. Hasn''t kicked the bucket just yet."


    He scratched his chin, feigning thought. "Gotta say ¨C it''s odd to hear that the Duke was responsible for sealing you. Don''t nobles usually take any chance they can get to bolster their reputation? Why would he erase his part in a tale of heroism?"


    "Heroism, you say." The inferno waved from side to side, as if shaking its head. "Is it truly heroism if your only goal is to eliminate your competitors? Helmund has no love for his subjects ¨C or anyone but himself. The Severed Isles would be in a better state if I had remained as a balancing act to his tyranny."


    "I''m sure you were a just, magnanimous ruler," Simon remarked, with a dry deadpan.


    "Not in the slightest. But I''ve caught glimpses of the world outside these cavern walls, and I would *never* have let the Severed Isles degrade so harshly. There is no point in reigning over a desiccated graveyard."


    The Demon''s voice took on a passionate edge. "This cannot stand. Helmund must be brought to heel ¨C and soon, before he can drain these lands even further. If you release me from this prison, then I swear I shall do everything in my power to see the Duke laid low and the Severed Isles restored to their former liveliness. We can establish a Contract if you require that kind of guarantee."


    Simon placed his chin on his hands and lifted a single eyebrow. "Come on now. You didn''t think it would be that easy, did you?


    The inferno chuckled. "No, but it was worth the attempt. You would be shocked at how many humans leap at the first opportunity to partake in impetuous heroics."


    "...I may be familiar with the concept," Simon replied, swallowing an innocent whistle before it could escape his throat.


    Without warning, the Demon drew itself up, magnifying its flames so that they reached the ceiling of its cage. "Human. What is your name?"


    Simon leisurely stood up. He didn''t bother with theatrics, opting to just be himself. "Simon."


    "Surname?"


    "Cobblestone," he answered, adopting Ardyn''s last name. It was Valtia-approved and sounded suitably nonthreatening, which would hopefully make the Demon underestimate him.


    "Well met, Simon Cobblestone." The flames swirled and churned like an oven of anticipation. When the Demon spoke next, its voice echoed with immeasurable gravitas. "Then I ask you this, oh strange human: What do you desire most?"


    He had to admit ¨C the demonic fireworks display was pretty neat. To a Valtian native with medieval sensibilities, it would''ve probably been the most awe-inspiring sight they''d ever witnessed.


    But to Simon, who''d grown up on high-budget Hollywood CGI-fests...he knew when something was just smoke and mirrors. Cool smoke and mirrors, yet smoke and mirrors nonetheless.


    It would take more than this to impress him.


    "I''ll answer your question with one of mine," Simon replied. "What do you think I desire most?"


    The Demon''s flames subsided by a hair. "You want me to choose your boon for you?"


    "Nah ¨C just want to hear what your guess would be. Indulge my curiosity."


    He didn''t actually care what the Demon thought, but responding nonchalantly to its bravado gave the creature pause. It had evidently wanted to cow him into submission, or at least make him nervous enough to offer a quick, poorly-considered deal. Instead, Simon had reminded it of one very important detail.


    As long as the Demon stayed locked within its cage of light, it wasn''t the one with leverage here.


    "...A human such as you?" The inferno leaned forward, scrutinizing him. "Your type only wants one thing: Power. Power to influence the world. Power to bend others to your will. Power to mold your destiny."


    Simon clapped. "Not bad. You''ve met people like me throughout the years?"


    "Similar. Albeit none that have stared me in the eyes without flinching."


    "What eyes?"


    The Demon hesitated. After a few seconds, two blood-red shapes appeared in the center of its flames. Something about them provoked an instinctual fear response in Simon''s hindbrain ¨C none of which he let show on his face.


    "And yet you still don''t flinch. Strange."


    Sorry, Simon thought, but the Red-Eyed Fell Beast was scarier than you. "I''ll be forthright with my intentions. I want multiple boons. The first is power, just like you said."


    He put on a beatific smile. "One-third of it."


    "A...third?" The inferno shrank, its voice replete with astonishment. "A third of what? Of ME?"


    "Correct." Simon kept his tone neutral. "I can''t just ask ''for power''. Too vague. You could''ve given me a drop of it and nothing more. One-third is nice and clear."


    He perked up, as if just realizing something. "Oh, and I''m not interested in getting loophole''d by obtuse demon logic. You''ll give me your power in a way that doesn''t cause harm. If there are any complications with the transfer, you''ll assist me, beneficially, to the absolute best of your ability. And you''re giving it to me before I free you."


    The Demon''s aura pulsed with a wave of pure outrage. "Do you have any idea the magnitude of what you ask for?"


    Simon nodded. "Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn''t have asked for it." He shrugged. "You''d still be stronger than me, so it''s not like I''m trying to usurp you."


    For once, the Demon was speechless.


    "That''s Boon #1." Simon held up one finger ¨C and then a second. "Boon #2 is...well, less a boon and more of a stipulation. You won''t harm me, directly or indirectly, physically or mentally, in any way, ever. That includes taking actions that would weaken me. Gaining one-third of your power would be pointless if you murder me and steal it back right away."


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "That all but would shackle me to your will," the Demon hissed.


    "Then we''ll add another stipulation stating that Boon #2 is annulled if I conspire against you, or if I purposefully cause you physical harm. That more fair?"


    "To an extent ¨C wait, no, you can''t¨C"


    "Boon #3." Simon raised another finger. "I''ll be your second-in-command when you start conquering again. It''ll be a permanent position. Not interested in carving out my own territory; I''d prefer to hitch myself to the winning horse."


    His smile morphed from cordial to vicious. "Trust me. You''ll love having me as an ally."


    The flames glared at him with muted disbelief. "No self-respecting Demon would remotely entertain a Contract so lopsided."


    "That''s where you''re wrong. It isn''t lopsided at all. Because in return?"


    His voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper, like he was imparting a grand secret. "You''ll go free."


    Simon gestured around at the empty cavern. "As someone who''s been stuck here for hundreds of years...do you really want to go back to that? Losing track of time until the decades blend together? Counting cracks in the wall to alleviate your ennui? Endlessly hoping and praying that a human will find you? The boredom, the isolation¨C"


    "ENOUGH!"


    Simon fought to retain his balance as the inferno exploded, sending a hot wave of air gusting through the room. If he had been standing next to the demon at the time, he would''ve been crispy-fried in an instant.


    "YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU TRIFLE WITH, HUMAN!" The Demon''s voice was like a steel fist beating at Simon''s eardrums. "DO YOU BELIEVE THAT I AM POWERLESS? THAT I CANNOT HARM YOU AS I AM?"


    A magnificent show of force. Unfortunately for the Demon, the effect was ruined by the Warding Orbs forming its cage. They still hadn''t budged an inch, and they still didn''t have a scratch on them.


    Even now, this was merely posturing.


    "You can probably hurt me." With effort, Simon pushed his lips up into another smile. "But there''s a cost, right? Something you aren''t willing to pay. Wouldn''t have bothered with proposing a Contract otherwise."


    With a disappointed sigh, his smile vanished. "If my offer isn''t to your liking, though..."


    He peered back at the cavern entrance, as if debating whether or not to leave right then and there.


    The Demon was too late to stifle a horrified gasp.


    Simon didn''t even attempt to hide his smirk. He faced the inferno once more, spreading his arms wide with the brash audacity of a con artist who knew they were being unfair, knew that their scam was blatantly transparent ¨C and knew that they''d won anyway.


    "Three boons for your freedom. What''s it gonna be?"


    There was a long pause.


    Eventually, the flames let out a lengthy, drawn-out groan. "Simon Cobblestone...are you a Demon in disguise?"


    "Not since the last time I checked. Why do you ask?"


    "Because this bargain is fitting of one."


    The transmigrator took a bow. "Thanks for the compliment."


    A spike of begrudging respect flared up. The Demon may have hated him in this moment, but game recognized game.


    Simon was about to continue speaking when a swell of demonic magic froze his throat shut. Frenzied muttering swirled at the edges of his hearing as mana concentrated near the Demon.


    One-by-one, blackened words began to appear mid-air, slowly, as if scrawled by an unsteady hand.


    1. The Demon forging this Contract is known as Kirkelas the Conqueror, also known as Ragnoth the Everlasting Flame, also known as The Demon of Ruination. The human Contractee is known as Simon Cobblestone. Kirkelas is the Demon currently residing in a prison of sacred mana, within Simon''s eyesight. Simon Cobblestone is the human standing before Kirkelas. There is no deception of identity on the part of either signer.


    2. Kirkelas will permanently bequeath one-third of his mana to Simon Cobblestone. This will be done so in a way that does not harm Simon Cobblestone, and shall increase his power accordingly. If there are complications with the mana transfer, Kirkelas will beneficially assist to the absolute best of his abilities.


    3. Additionally, Kirkelas the Conqueror will never harm Simon Cobblestone, directly or indirectly, physically or mentally, in any way. That includes taking actions that would weaken Simon Cobblestone.


    4. As an addendum, the previous stipulation is voided if Simon Cobblestone conspires against Kirkelas the Conqueror or purposefully causes him physical harm.


    5. Additionally, Kirkelas the Conqueror will also appoint Simon Cobblestone to a position as his second-in-command. This position is permanent.


    6. In exchange, Simon will fully free Kirkelas from his prison of sacred mana.


    "There." The Demon ¨C Kirkelas ¨C was breathing heavily, sounding exhausted. "A Contract. Do you...do you accept?"


    Simon betrayed no emotion as he nodded. "Yes. I do. Should I sign in blood, or¨C"


    "Your agreement is sufficient." Kirkelas composed himself. "Then I also¨C"


    He stopped.


    "One moment." Demonic mana flared again. When Kirkelas was finished, a single word had been appended to the end of the Contract.


    6. In exchange, Simon will fully free Kirkelas from his prison of sacred mana immediately.


    "Fair and equitable. Just as you like."


    Simon''s face remained impassive ¨C in contrast to the whirlwind of frustration brewing inside his mind.


    I was so close.


    When entering Caelryn Cave, he''d known that he needed to acquire Power. It was just under Food and Shelter in terms of significance. Thus, upon discovering a monstrously strong Demon in a position of vulnerability, Simon had pondered:


    How could he defraud the creature for everything it was worth?


    His plan had been a blend of deduction and improvisation. He determined that the Demon would likely be desperate to bargain for its freedom. He determined that its binding magical Contracts could be used to his advantage. He determined that asking for one-third of its power would be the most he could push for while still closing the deal.


    Most importantly, he determined that it wasn''t at the top of its game. A supreme, ancient Demon with lifetimes of experience would''ve normally taken him for a ride when it came to negotiating. But after centuries of imprisonment? Weakened by hundreds of Warding Orbs that inflicted perpetual suffering?


    He had hoped that he could bully it into a bad Contract before it realized the fatal loophole therein.


    Simon never promised that he would free the Demon right away. The plan had been to get around to it...eventually. Who''s to say when? Their Contract certainly didn''t.


    The best lies were told through truth.


    If he kept procrastinating, he could''ve gone a whole year without needing to fulfill his side of the deal. Kirkelas would''ve been forced to transfer one-third of its mana ¨C yet receive nothing in return. Using its stolen power, Simon would have easily established his position in Valtian society, granting himself more opportunities to Level up.


    And when he was strong enough, before the Warding Orbs ran out of juice...he would''ve returned and shanked the Demon while it was still trapped and weakened.


    Except that Kirkelas had spotted the problem mere moments away from sealing his own fate.


    So painfully close.


    The Demon drew itself up. "Do you accept this revised Contract?"


    "No."


    "Then I also ¨C WHAT?"


    Simon turned around and started walking away. "No deal." He lazily waved his hand once. "Bye."


    Actually freeing Kirkelas had never been in the cards. He wasn''t going to release a creature literally called ''the Demon of Ruination''. That sort of behavior was for people who aspired to no better than second-in-command to a bloodthirsty tyrant.


    Which had been a lie as well, naturally. Simon would never settle for being an underling. He had standards.


    There was still the matter of reversing Valtia''s evident decline. But even if Kirkelas was being completely truthful and intended to fight against the despotic Duke Helmund, maybe saving the Severed Isles in the process...


    Freeing it was what the gods of Evil had wanted Simon to do.


    That was reason enough not to.


    Shame that this trip ended up mostly being a waste of time, but it was worth rolling the dice on. As Kirkelas shouted at him, Simon''s mood brightened. At least I picked up some scrap metal from the skeleton crew. Consolation prize! Plan B is still doable ¨C sell the scrap for pocket change, work my way up the social ladder. Will take longer than I wanted, but¨C


    "FOUL, INSIGNIFICANT MORTAL!"


    The scream was so loud that it made Simon glance back. His eyes widened when he saw demonic energy gathering where the Contract had once been. It collapsed onto itself, solidifying into a dense, sharpened point, its aura rolling across the cavern with a surge of mana.


    "SHORTSIGHTED. PETULANT. UNGRATEFUL. THIS WAS A BARGAIN OTHERS WOULD HAVE SLAUGHTERED FAMILY FOR. YOU COULD HAVE BEHELD WONDERS THAT ONLY A HANDFUL OF HUMANS AND DEMONS SHALL EVER EXPERIENCE. YOU COULD HAVE CONQUERED AT MY SIDE. BUT NOW..."


    Simon''s body flooded with adrenaline, instinctively knowing what was about to happen.


    "YOU WILL SERVE."


    The demonic mana shot forth. Sharp as a needle, it struggled, fought ¨C before barely piercing through the Warding Orbs'' cage of light. The cage fixed itself an instant later, already repaired.


    Which did little to help Simon as the mana raced towards him, fast as a bullet.


    He dodged at the last second. It was a good dodge; well-timed, and more than could be expected from a Level 2 Fledgling with almost no combat experience.


    The mana needle didn''t care. It simply did an abrupt U-turn and plunged straight into Simon''s right hand.


    Pain. All-consuming pain. Like hot magma coursing through his arm. The rest of him just felt sick, close to vomiting, violently ill. His fingernails rapidly turned black, then his fingers, then his entire upper arm.


    Simon couldn''t think. His next action was purely automatic.


    Good thing, then, that he''d watched Evil Dead 2 just a week prior. He didn''t hesitate before summoning his sharpest half-broken sword from Inventory, activating the Glove of Minor Power¨C


    And severing his right arm at its bicep.


    The corrupted appendage fell to the ground with a wet, nauseating plop.


    "YOU...YOU!" Kirkelas screeched with shock and dismay. "HAVE YOU TAKEN LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES?! WHAT TYPE OF MAN MUTILATES HIMSELF WITHOUT SO MUCH AS AN IOTA OF HESITATION?!"


    Simon was in too much pain to speak, but he would''ve replied with confusion regardless. Why the surprise? One arm was a small price to pay for not being demon-possessed or whatever Kirkelas had tried to do to him. He would''ve lopped it off even without Transmigrator''s Body healing him to full after a good night''s sleep.


    Belatedly, Simon noticed that he''d missed a spot. The demonic mana had spread up his arm so quickly that a sliver of it was still attached at the end of his stump.


    Just when he was about to take a bit more off the top, the mana resonated with savage intent. It attacked his psyche, attempting to take control from within. Just a fragment of it remained, but that might have been enough to subsume the mind of a normal person.


    Simon''s will crushed it like stepping on an ant.


    Alert: System Integration has activated!


    Demonic Essence has been assimilated and converted!


    Attribute Gained: Fell-Touched!


    Skill Gained: Demonic Shapeshift [Right Arm]!


    Skill Gained: Fell Harvest!


    Skill Gained: Subjugate Territory!


    New options for Class Advancement will be available at Level 13!


    The pain vanished.


    Everything was silent. Neither Simon nor Kirkelas spoke.


    Both watched in awe as his right arm swiftly regrew.


    When it was finally whole again, it looked...different. The limb was now covered with silver-black scales instead of skin. It seemed sturdy, tougher than leather yet growing naturally out of his body. And in place of fingernails, he had five razor-edged talons, each one sharp as a dagger.


    With his left hand, Simon gently prodded at what was apparently a Demon arm. He felt the sensation of being poked. The arm did, in fact, belong to him.


    Hmm. Can I...


    Simon activated ''Demonic Shapeshift'' as if it was any other Skill. Immediately, the appendage shifted to a regular human arm with soft skin. Like nothing had changed at all.


    "What?" Kirkelas spouted.


    "What?" Simon agreed. Out of all his guesses, assumptions, and predictions for what would transpire in Caelryn Cave, this had not been one of them.


    "You..." The Demon''s inferno faded down to a sputtering campfire. "I don''t understand. How did you do that?"


    Kirkelas'' voice was frail. Its previous stunt had expended much of its energy.


    Alert: Heroic Valor''s bonus activated!


    For weakening the Sealed Demon of Ruination ¨C albeit temporarily ¨C you have received bonus EXP!


    Your Level has increased!


    Level: 2 ¡ú 3


    Four unspent stat points added to the pool! Allocate them at will!


    Simon read the system notifications, his heart soaring with that exhilarating sensation of progress. Gleefully, he activated Shapeshift again. The arm turned Demonic. Shapeshift. Back to human form.


    "I rolled the dice by coming here." He grinned. "And what do you know? Double sixes."


    "That. Answers. NOTHING!"


    "No worries. You''ll have plenty of alone time to think it over."


    Simon resumed his walk towards the cavern exit. Kirkelas could do little but rant and rave. The only weapons left to him were his ephemeral lungs ¨C which he used to great effect, spewing forth a string of expletives that would''ve made a sailor blush. He insulted Simon''s mother, face, lineage, sense of style, and everything else he could think of.


    The Demon''s diatribe went in one ear and out the other. Simon saw no reason to listen to him anymore. The Fell-Touched human was too busy Shapeshifting his arm back and forth like it was a new toy.


    He hadn''t gotten everything he''d wanted out of Caelryn Cave...but this? This had potential.


    Upon at last reaching the exit, Simon stopped with the broken door just inches away. It wasn''t the Demon''s parade of colorful language that made him hesitate. Rather, some small, lingering notion was nagging at him. What had¨C


    Ah, right. He nodded to himself, remembering that there was still one thing left to do.


    It would be rude not to say his farewells to someone who''d given him such a thoughtful gift.


    "Goodbye, Kirkelas." He sent the Demon a cheerful wave. "When you next see me, it''ll be because I''m about to kill you."

 Chapter 4.1

    Simon greeted another skeleton as he made his way back up through Caelryn Cave. The long trek was far more enjoyable in reverse. No worry of traps, no mounting pressure, and he got to pass the time by experimenting with his ill-gotten gains.


    Character Sheet.


    Simon


    Class: Fledgling


    Attributes: Transmigrator, Fell-Touched


    Level: 3


    HP: 90 / 90


    MP: 50 / 50


    Strength: 15


    Dexterity: 9


    Vitality: 9


    Intelligence: 5


    Unspent Points: 4


    Two new lines had been added. The first was Attributes, displaying his status as a Transmigrator, and as a human who was now Fell-Touched. The second was Unspent Points, denoting the stat points he''d earned from reaching Level 3.


    Stat points that hadn''t been automatically allocated like the ones from Level 2. Simon couldn''t be certain of exactly why, yet if he had to guess...Heroic Valor was the cause.


    I haven''t fought anything since Stuart. Which means I made it to Level 3 solely by receiving bonus EXP from Heroic Valor''s effect. It was entirely responsible.


    He drummed his fingers on his thigh as he walked. My first Level-up gave me 3 Strength and 1 Dexterity. It happened as a direct result of killing Stuart. And I killed him in a quick ambush, where I lifted him using a boost from the Glove of Power.


    During ''normal'' Level-ups ¨C where EXP was gained from slaughter ¨C the system probably assigned his points based on his recent life experiences. After all, it was a system designed to expedite growth using RPG mechanics as a framework. Stuart had been slain by feats of Strength with a dash of Dexterity, so those stats got the bump.


    Heroic Valor complicated matters. The system wouldn''t know how to assign his stats based on EXP gained from nebulous deeds of valor. Weakening the Demon of Ruination hadn''t been a feat of Strength, Dexterity, or Vitality. Intelligence was the closest, but if the stat truly was just a catch-all term for Simon''s proficiency with magic, then it didn''t fit either.


    So the system had done what any self-respecting administrator did when faced with a roadblock...and passed the buck to someone lower down the chain. Simon could distribute his Level 3 stat points whichever way he pleased.


    A part of him wanted to believe that this was an intentional design choice on behalf of the gods of Good. It made sense when viewed from a top-down perspective. If a champion raised their Level through killing, then their stats would largely be decided for him.


    But if they instead gained Experience through heroic deeds, then they could mold themselves into any kind of fighter they desired. It incentivized the gods'' chosen champion to conduct themselves like a hero ¨C as opposed to an aimless murderhobo.


    However, Simon had met enough project managers to know better. The stat point flexibility from Heroic Valor was likely an unintended side effect. Something about it just screamed ''It''s not a bug, it''s a feature!'' to him.


    That wasn''t a bad thing. Abusing exploits was a tried-and-true method of getting stronger in RPGs.


    Now for the million dollar question. He gazed at his Character Sheet once more. How should I spend my stats? What will help me survive?


    It depended heavily on the next type of enemy he encountered. Maybe he would have to overpower something, or outrun something, or need the durability to endure just one solid hit. Strength, Dexterity, and Vitality were all crucial for different reasons.


    Intelligence less so, but that might rapidly become his most important stat if he learned magic one day. Neglecting it now felt like an easy way to screw himself in the long run. Shoving more points into Intelligence might even be what triggered his genesis as a Valtian sorcerer...although he wasn''t willing to test that particular theory. Too much risk of wasted resources.


    After much deliberation, he opted to heroically pass the buck to future-Simon. He was a smart guy. He would figure it out.


    Moving on, present-Simon went further down his Character Sheet, scrolling past the lists of Traits, Active Skills, and Passive Skills. A section had been inserted at the bottom: <u>Demonic Skills</u>, complete with three completely new abilities.


    His mouth split into a wide grin. Stat points may have been the backbone of his power, but Skills represented options. It was enough to send his adventurer''s heart aflutter.


    Demonic Shapeshift [Right Arm] (Rank MAX)


    -Your right arm now houses Fell power, which can be unleashed by assuming its true form. When this arm is Shapeshifted, your latent Demonic Skills become usable. Shapeshifting may be performed at will and costs no MP.


    For the umpteenth time, Simon watched as his human arm morphed to a limb of demonic savagery. Silver-black scales. Wicked talons as sharp as daggers. Even the arm''s muscles felt stronger, as if benefiting from a diluted Glove of Power.


    It was amazing.


    It was also something he should never show another human. Kirkelas'' words still rang clear in his mind.


    ''This is likely your first encounter with a Demon, which means your mind is rife with misinformation and paranoia. The weightiness of our aura can feel...stifling. However, rest assured that the untoward rumors of my kind have been greatly exaggerated.''


    People in Valtia weren''t fans of demons. Shocker.


    Simon doubted that they''d cut him any slack if they saw his Shapeshifted arm. His excuses of only being Fell-Touched would fall on deaf ears. Then it was straight to the angry mob wielding torches and pitchforks.


    And looking at his other two Demonic Skills...he wouldn''t have blamed them.


    Fell Harvest (Rank 1)


    -When holding a person or creature in your Shapeshifted Arm''s clutches, you may drain their life force. Draining them to the point of death will increase a chosen stat by 1 point.


    -As this ability evolves, more stat points shall be gained per death-drain.


    Simon intended to use Fell Harvest every chance he got. Four drains was equal to a whole Level, and that was just at Rank 1. It would significantly hasten his long-term growth; he couldn''t have asked for a more advantageous Skill to acquire early on.


    ...Yet it probably wasn''t the wisest Skill to employ around other humans. They wouldn''t take kindly to seeing a ''Demon'' suck the life out of creatures, even if he exclusively used it on mindless Beasts.


    Although he imagined that Fell Harvest would still be better-received than his third Demonic Skill.


    Subjugate Territory (Rank 1)


    -A unique demonic ability gained by subsuming mana from Kirkelas the Conqueror. If the established leader or governing body of a village, town, city, or any similar settlement yields authority to you, then you are granted dominion of the aforementioned area.


    -Native residents of this area will feel partially compelled to follow your orders. This authority cannot be revoked except by your death, or after one hundred years have passed without a renewal of authority.


    -Subjugate Territory''s Rank may increase after a successful subjugation. As this ability evolves, more benefits shall be gained.


    The Demon''s title wasn''t for show. He''d actually gotten stronger from conquering.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Simon listened carefully. By now, he was far away from the bottom of Caelryn Cave. But if he strained his ears...he could barely hear the sound of Kirkelas wishing a virulent pox upon his family and household.


    It brought another smile to his face. Two days in Valtia, and I''m already making new friends.


    Unfortunately, he didn''t think he was going to get much mileage out of Subjugate Territory. Not in the short term. He wouldn''t be opposed to, say, unseating a dictator and usurping their capital city, but using the Skill on random settlements just struggling to get by would make him no better than the Conqueror himself.


    Simon had a few too many morals for that. Besides ¨C pragmatically speaking, conquering places like an evil overlord wouldn''t earn him any bonus EXP from Heroic Valor.


    ...Unless there was an ethical way to subjugate a town...


    He''d think on that later. At the moment, he was faced with another decision.


    The entrance to Caelryn Cave lay in front of him. Early afternoon sunlight was streaming through the opening, banishing darkness with rays of soothing radiance. The light was like one of Grace''s hugs after a rough day, inviting him to step forward and leave the cave''s dismal halls behind. Especially since Kirkelas would eventually settle down, regenerate his power, and begin devising a revenge plan against the upstart human who''d wronged him.


    But while Caelryn Cave was no Sanctuary Tree, its entrance was guarded by a pair of Warding Orbs. In here, he was safe from the Red-Eyed Fell Beast. Hopefully.


    Outside? Who knew. It could be inches away at any time. Lurking just out of sight...until the very instant it chose to strike.


    Inevitably, the worsening dryness in his throat pushed Simon onward. He couldn''t stay here. Not when there were only several days of drinkable water left in Inventory. Before he found a renewable source of nourishment, no place was truly ''safe''.


    Risking your life in the present was always preferable to a guaranteed death in the future.


    Red-Eyes is still going to ambush me when I least expect it, though. If so...


    Simon stepped outside Caelryn Cave. The Warding Orbs tingled uncomfortably as he strode by them. Curious; they hadn''t felt like that when he first entered. The change was almost certainly related to his newly-acquired status as a Fell-Touched Human.


    Thankfully, the sensation was easily ignored ¨C and in this case, knowing the Orbs'' exact range was useful. Simon kept walking, continuing on for roughly ten feet until he could no longer feel the Warding Orbs'' stinging aura. He gave it another couple feet for good measure, stopping at the end of the large stone structure attached to Caelryn Cave''s entrance.


    "Been a long day." The weary transmigrator stretched and sighed, leaning back against the stone structure. "Couldn''t hurt to take a breather."


    Simon relaxed everything except his mind. Then, with nary a hint of concern displayed on his expression...


    He closed his eyes.


    Don''t trust your ears. Don''t trust your instincts. They didn''t help you last time it snuck up on you.


    Just remember Kirkelas. Envision the cavern of danger and death. Crystallize what that atmosphere felt like, reduce it to a smaller scale, and¨C


    There. Like a tiny blip on a radar.


    Demonic aura.


    Simon was already leaping sideways before he''d even finished opening his eyes. Twin scythes bisected the air where he had been standing, carving deep scratches into the side of the cave''s stone structure. He swiftly backed up, retreating to the Warding Orbs'' aura of protection.


    A satisfied smile adorned his features. "Took the bait."


    Four crimson eyes turned to glare at him. The light of day did nothing to make the Fell Beast more visible ¨C its body was still fully shrouded in concealing fog. Simon observed the Beast as it retracted its scythe-limbs, the menacing blades of steel disappearing as if they''d faded from existence.


    Relief flowed through him when the creature stayed where it was. As long as he was near the cave entrance, it couldn''t approach him. The Warding Orbs had granted him a reprieve.


    He intended to use it wisely. Identify.


    Name: Red-Eyed Hunter


    Description: A patient Fell Beast that endlessly stalks its prey. Exists in a permanent state of invisibility and intangibility. Can bring itself into the corporeal world for a short time per day. The Red-Eyed Hunter is weaker than the other myriad types of Beasts, so it only hunts what it believes are easy marks.


    Estimated Level: 9


    THAT''S supposed to be weak? Simon thought, with no small amount of bafflement. It wasn''t the Level that unnerved him ¨C while still higher than his own, it was hard to be impressed with a single-digit number after chatting up the Sealed Demon of Ruination.


    Red-Eye''s unique properties, however, were horrifying. Relentless. Invisible. Intangible. A perfect assassin in every way. Even if an experienced warrior could presumably repel it, this was the kind of creature that ensured children never lived to see adulthood.


    And when compared to other Fell Beasts, it apparently ranked low on the totem pole.


    How in the world have the people of Valtia lasted this long? Simon glanced back at the Warding Orbs behind him. More of those? Lots more of those. Has to be.


    Gathering his thoughts, he examined the Red-Eyed Hunter. It hadn''t budged. According to Identify, the Beast could only turn corporeal for a short period each day. If he waited, it would be forced to vanish, just like it had when he took shelter within the Sanctuary Tree.


    Tempting. But the Hunter was also described as relentless. It would come for him again tomorrow...and there might not be any Orbs or Trees around him next time.


    Simon made a snap decision. He summoned his broken sword, holding it in his Glove of Power. His right arm Shapeshifted to its demonic form, silver-black scales gleaming viciously in the sunlight.


    Lastly, he put his four unspent points straight into Dexterity, bringing the stat up to 13. What he needed now was speed ¨C enough to rush down Red-Eyes and slay the Fell Beast before it disappeared.


    I''m Level 3...it''s Level 8...that''s doable, Simon mused, with absolutely zero evidence to support his forced bravado. His thoughts raced as fast as his feet, the distance between him and Red-Eyes rapidly narrowing. Shouldn''t have missed your opening strike. When prey is backed into a corner, ready to fight for its right to life, there''s no difference between the hunter and the hunted¨C


    It was at that moment, when he was in the middle of hyping himself up with the first cheesy lines he could think of, that Simon realized something rather peculiar.


    The Fell Beast was completely motionless. Even its swirling fog seemed to have frozen still. It hadn''t reacted at all to his approach.


    Except for its four red eyes ¨C staring directly at his demonic arm.


    An inhuman screech of terror blasted Simon''s ears. The Hunter immediately leaped backwards, exhibiting far greater speed than a meager 13 Dexterity. Its eyes were bulging with fear, their collective gaze fixated on his arm, never letting it out of sight.


    And then, like flicking a switch, it was gone. Simon was alone.


    He stood in silence until his brain caught up to what he''d just witnessed.


    "...Wait! Come back! I wanted to see how much EXP you''d give me!"

 Chapter 4.2

    Red-Eyes didn''t return the next day. Or the day after that.


    Coward. Some ''relentless'' hunter you turned out to be.


    Simon knew he should be relieved. As anticipated, there hadn''t been any more Sanctuary Trees or Warding Orbs along the road. A visit from Red-Eyes would''ve likely resulted in a premature end to his Valtian vacay. Most importantly, he needed to retain composure at all times ¨C an unsettled mindset was hardly conducive to survival.


    Yet his list of grievances were starting to pile up. He was thirsty, hungry, tired from sleeping badly on the harsh rocky ground, on-edge due to constantly watching for Fell Beast ambushes, mentally understimulated from traipsing through a barren wasteland, and kicking himself for rashly allocating four stat points. Dexterity wasn''t a bad choice, but what if it ended up being suboptimal?


    Although it''ll be worth it if I get to the next town sooner. A perk of increased Dexterity seemed to be that it reduced the strain of movement on his body. With the stat at 13, lightly jogging ate up as much of his stamina as walking had before coming to Valtia.


    He''d finally achieved a healthy level of cardio! And all it took was transmigrating into another world. Doctors hate this one simple trick.


    ...I''m more bored than I thought. Simon had been told multiple times by his paren¨C by people that his generation was addicted to smartphones and instant gratification.


    His problem was somewhat different. While the lack of stimulation was admittedly grating, this was also about when he would''ve stopped by Grace''s soup kitchen back on Earth. If Voice-In-The-Sky had never appeared, then right now Simon would be sorting meal boxes, readying them for those in need.


    Instead, he was here. Kirkelas had been a gratifying diversion, but after that? Just days of nothing. No meaningful accomplishments. No helping people or making progress.


    The itch was creeping up on him.


    That, more than anything else, was what he disliked about the emptiness surrounding him. It gave too much time for unwanted thoughts to infiltrate the fortress of his mind.


    At least the dehydration pains should serve as an adequate distraction.


    That would be affecting him soon. Simon had previously hoped that Transmigrator''s Body would cure him of his dietary needs after a full night''s sleep. Healing the internal ''damage'' done to his body, per se.


    Regrettably, that was one loophole the gods had accounted for. The System seemed to separate hunger and thirst from damage incurred via combat or injury. His stomach was just as empty upon awakening as before.


    He currently had enough water to sustain him for the rest of today. Afterwards...well, he''d once read that the human body could go seventy-two hours without refreshment before it started shutting down.


    If things came to that, he would be forced to bring out some of Stuart''s remains from Inventory. Uncooked meat contained a good amount of water. Identify had warned him against partaking of tainted Fell flesh, but when his only alternative was gradual organ failure, what choice did he have?


    With any luck, being Fell-Touched would grant him a measure of resistance to the Beast''s impurities. At best, it might render him completely immune to whatever corruption made Fell flesh toxic to humans.


    Not that raw meat was the smartest thing to consume even under normal circumstances.


    He kept walking, walking, walking. Eventually, Simon began outright wishing for Red-Eyes to return.


    Maybe its flesh would somehow be safer to eat.


    --


    Two more days had passed.


    It was now Simon''s sixth day in Valtia. Since the time that Red-Eyes fled, he hadn''t seen a Fell Beast, a Sanctuary Tree, or any signs of life whatsoever. His untainted rations were gone, and he''d reread Ardyn''s unsent love letters until the parchment crinkled.


    Desperation was beginning to sink in.


    Little farther. He moved his feet as if lifting lead weights, motivating himself with hollow assurances. Has to be just a little farther. Road can''t go on forever.


    Or maybe it did. Fantasy world and all that.


    There was one consolation prize ¨C the dehydration pains were indeed distracting him from other concerns. His throat felt like it was on fire, burning with insistent, unquenchable need. The rest of his body wasn''t faring much better, fluctuating between aches, wooziness, exhaustion, or some combination of the above.


    He would need to eat part of Stuart tomorrow. Assuming he survived the experience, the water within its meat should keep him going for...for longer. Perhaps¨C


    Simon perked up. Movement. At the edge of the horizon.


    His nerves tensed, preparing for the worst. If a Fell Beast ambushed him in this state, then he was deader than dead.


    Tension rapidly shifted to annoyance as the sight became more clear.


    A carriage was rushing down the road at high speeds. It resembled an old-timey caravan that settlers would''ve taken on the Oregon Trail, or that merchants used in the games he''d played. Wooden frame, large wheels, doors on the side, and a sturdy cloth covering the top.


    Except that it had no horses pulling it. The carriage was simply zooming along without a care, in defiance of the natural laws of physics.


    Simon let out a sigh. Hallucinations already? He kneaded his temples, trying to massage the pain away. If my subconscious is going to start tormenting me with false hope, then I would''ve preferred an all-you-can-eat-buffet. Burgers. Ice cream. Soda. God do I miss soda.


    Putting the vision out of his mind, he continued marching. This was merely another trial to overcome. He couldn''t get bogged down in delusions of a horseless carriage coming out of nowhere to rescue him.


    Then the hallucination drew closer.


    And closer.


    It was about five seconds from impact when Simon''s starved, malfunctioning mind grasped that it might actually be real.


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    "What the..." His voice cracked with disuse. "Hey! HEY! STOP!"


    To its credit, the carriage did slow down...although not quickly enough. Simon was forced to throw himself sideways lest he succumb to medieval-brand vehicular manslaughter.


    Still. It was the thought that counted.


    The beleaguered transmigrator shakily picked himself off the ground. He eyed the caravan as it came to a halt not far away, unsure of how to feel or what to expect. Circumstances had changed so suddenly that¨C


    Focus. Simon urged his nutrient-deprived brain to cooperate. He attempted to devise contingency plans for whatever debacle was about to transpire.


    It felt like trudging through an ocean of molasses. Baby steps, then. Make things easy on myself.


    When in doubt: gather intel.


    With the bizarre contraption now close by, he took the chance to examine it in detail. No less than four Warding Orbs were embedded onto the carriage''s wooden exterior. Aside from that, it didn''t look like anything that he hadn''t seen in pictures on Earth. Considering Valtia''s presumed level of technology, the vehicle was likely propelled by either magic spells or Artifacts.


    That was all the time he had to investigate before two people hopped out from inside.


    The duo consisted of a man and a woman, each in their early 40s of age. Both were sporting clothes of much finer make than Simon''s threadbare ensemble. They still weren''t up to Earth standards of luxury, but compared to them, he may as well have been wearing a potato sack.


    After six days of solitude ¨C excluding Kirkelas and Red-Eyes ¨C seeing other people in the flesh nearly prompted Simon to burst into cheer. Mostly from imagining the rations nestled within that wonderful caravan of theirs, but hey. He wouldn''t turn down the simple joy of pleasant company.


    Now if only they could sheath their swords and cease glaring at him with murderous intent. Then things would really be in business.


    "Who are you?" The woman took point, speaking in a harsh, questioning tone. "And how in Helmund''s name are you alive? Traveling alone on the road, no carriage or Warding Orbs, that...shouldn''t be...possible...."


    Her words faltered. With a mixture of haste and subdued fear, she gestured to the man beside her. "Ebris ¨C you have that portable Orb with you? Think this might be a new type of Hunter. Some deceiving Fell Beast in disguise."


    Well, yes, but actually no. Would the people of Valtia view a Fell-Touched human as a Beast?


    Probably best not to test that hypothesis.


    "Let''s calm down," Simon professed. He raised his hands in a non-threatening manner. "We''re all friends here."


    The man belted out a derisive laugh. "Are we now? Then tell me ¨C which friend of mine am I addressing, hmm? What''s your name?"


    In the few seconds afforded to him before he had to answer, Simon took stock of the current situation. Need info.


    Identify.


    Name: Ebris Twobreath


    Description: A merchant of sorts. Armed, dangerous, and won''t hesitate to defend himself. Suspicious of those he does not know.


    Estimated Level: 9


    Name: Lucette Drenoka


    Description: A merchant of sorts. Armed, dangerous, and won''t hesitate to defend herself. Views family as sacrosanct, and those outside the family...not so much.


    Estimated Level: 8


    That was less detail that he''d wanted. Simon willed Identify to give him more, but the Descriptions remained unchanged. He still didn''t know what governed the information it chose to reveal.


    They''re both wary of strangers. Understandable, when creatures like Red-Eyes roamed the lands, but not super helpful. They wouldn''t be willing to aid him out of the goodness of their heart.


    Both their Levels are higher than mine, too. Little surprise there. Pretty much everyone in Valtia with a modicum of combat expertise would be stronger than Level 3.


    Not that he could''ve defeated them even if he was Level 30. His body was essentially shutting down; a stiff breeze would''ve laid him low and danced on his corpse.


    What else is there? Merchants. Right. I can work with that.


    Merchants should be receptive to profitable bargains. If he showed them something that interested them ¨C like interdimensional storage for ferrying cargo ¨C then they''d be tempted to keep him around.


    He much preferred that to relying on the kindness of strangers. Generosity and goodwill were finite, fragile concepts, liable to shatter at the first mistake you made. Like a beautiful stained glass window with a sledgehammer suspended just inches above.


    Fulfill someone''s personal desires, though, and they would often treat you better than their own kin.


    "My name is Simon Cobblestone." He straightened his posture, drawing up every ounce of energy left in his failing body. "I''m¨C"


    "Cobblestone?"


    He was interrupted by a startled utterance from Lucette. The woman''s mouth had fallen open. "Do...do you know a man called Ardyn?"


    Simon froze. ''Do I know Ardyn?'' he internally repeated. It took him a split-second for his confusion to subside, and for his addled mind to connect the dots.


    THEY know Ardyn.


    Opportunity was a curious thing. It wasn''t a living creature, and it usually couldn''t be predicted in advance ¨C yet it shaped the history of the world, raising rulers and toppling others in equal measure. The difference between those who succeeded in life and those who crawled through the festering gutter of defeat...was a mere matter of seconds. Seize the moment, or wallow in disgrace.


    Simon seized this moment like a lifeline in a storm. He spoke before the thought was even fully formed, trusting his instincts to guide him to safe harbor.


    "You''ve met my cousin Ardyn?"

 Chapter 5.1

    Lucette and Ebris flinched as if they''d been slapped. The pair exchanged glances, a whirlwind of emotions raging across their faces.


    "Did you know of Ardyn''s expedition to Caelryn Cave?" Simon continued. He infused vulnerability into his tone, making his lip quiver slightly. "Our carriage was attacked. There was...this rat, this Beast, and..."


    He shuddered. "I was the only survivor."


    Both merchants gazed at him in shock ¨C but not skepticism. They were halfway to believing him, yet needed another push before they were willing to accept what he''d said as truth.


    Simon clenched his fists. "Ardyn never got to tell her." Now his voice sounded frail. He tried to force his eyes to well with tears, but his body didn''t have the moisture to spare. "After we looted Caelryn Cave, Ardyn planned to tell Relia how he felt. They were going to...to..."


    He let himself fall to his knees. It was barely acting; standing felt more difficult by the second. Simon opened his mouth to speak further, lay on the spiel a little thicker, but his throat was dry as a desert, and all that came out was a noise resembling a pitiful sob.


    That did the trick. Ebris and Lucette''s suspicions over the identity of Simon ''Cobblestone'' had been quelled by a one-two punch of logic and emotion. The intimate details of Ardyn''s personal life, gleaned from his unsent love letters, had fulfilled their need for empirical evidence. When combined with the visage of a broken young man pushed to his limit...


    Well, that would''ve been enough to tug the heartstrings of even the most blackhearted scoundrel.


    Ebris exploded into a litany of insults ¨C not aimed at Simon, but at the late Ardyn Cobblestone. "Thrice-damned fool! Misbegotten imbecile!" The merchant paced in a circle, his muscles taut, rage mingling with grief in equal measure. "We told him! We told him Caelryn Cave was cursed! But he was just so convinced that riches untold lay within!"


    Lucette remained silent. She only stared at the ground, her expression wracked with heartache.


    "And look what transpired!" Ebris shook his fists at nothing. "Him, dead! The new hires, dead! A carriage demolished, and its Warding Orbs lost!"


    He jabbed an accusing finger at Simon. "What''s more, he''s even dragged his younger cousin into this folly! A boy who has clearly seen no more than a week of combat ¨C if that!"


    Rude. Accurate, but rude.


    Too late, Ebris noticed that he hadn''t been paying much attention to how the bereaved cousin Cobblestone was feeling about all this. The man sputtered, his accusing finger falling to the wayside. With an awkward air, he approached, placing a hesitant hand on Simon''s right shoulder.


    "I...I am sorry. For your loss." Ebris cleared his throat. "Were you and him close?"


    Everything I knew about Ardyn comes from his letters. Your outburst just now practically doubled what I know of him.


    "Yes," Simon croaked. "My cousin sometimes spoke of you. Ebris Twobreath and Lucette Duvunoka." He included their surnames learned from Identify ¨C more evidence indicating that he''d spoken at length with Ardyn. "Stalwart allies, he said."


    The transmigrator turned wistful eyes up at the merchant. "Did he ever speak of me?"


    Ebris winced. "Erm...on occasion."


    A polite lie. It fit right at home within Simon''s web of deceit.


    Evidently, it wasn''t out of character for Ardyn to have hidden family somewhere. Was he the secluded loner type? Albeit still well-loved, based on the merchants'' reactions after learning of his demise.


    He hid his feelings for Relia too. Simon almost shook his head in exasperation. Should''ve opened your heart to her earlier. Honesty is the best policy.


    Ebris started speaking again. The transmigrator focused up, preparing to lie his ass off.


    "Ardyn was born in Caelryn City," said the merchant. "I assume that unlike him, you hail from Springwater Village?"


    Where? "Yes. We''re distant relatives."


    "That explains your shabby attire. Few places have been sucked dry by Helmund worse than Springwater. Can understand how Ardyn beguiled you with legends of hidden treasure. No offense meant to you or your hometown, of course."


    Simon nodded. He didn''t have enough context to BS a response this time. Instead, he waited for Ebris to continue, letting the man draw his own conclusions.


    The merchant sighed. "When we set out to check on the progress of Ardyn''s expedition, we anticipated that our worst fears might come to light ¨C yet this is beyond even our worst fears. Forgive me, Simon, but I must ask one question of you. "


    He grit his teeth. "What became of your carriage''s Warding Orbs?"


    Only one answer fit the narrative Simon was attempting to sell. "Wards stopped working." He put on a tormented expression, as if recalling a moment that would haunt his nightmares for years to follow. "Their light faded out of nowhere. Then...then the rat came. Gargantuan awful Fell Beast. Destroyed our carriage."


    Ebris cursed again. This time, his words had no fire to them, more filled with misery than rage. "Fool, fool, fool. Told Ardyn that his Wards could expire. Been happening all over. Need to stay vigilant."


    Simon regarded the merchant carefully. You told me that this scenario was beyond your worst fears, he thought, but you already knew that the Warding Orbs failing was a possibility? And rather than asking ''did the Wards run out'', you asked me ''what became of the Wards'' ¨C a vague, open-ended question.


    ...So that I wouldn''t know exactly which kind of answer would satisfy you.


    He was struck by the gut-churning sensation of having sidestepped a trap. Ebris seemed to be mixing truths with untruths in order to completely verify Simon''s story.


    Although, assuming that Ebris'' rant about Ardyn being careless was genuine, Simon didn''t think that the merchant had much of a leg to stand on. According to Identify, his carriage''s Warding Orbs would be depleted within just two years. That was longer than the Wards guarding Caelryn Cave, but not by a lot.


    "Loath as I am to consider this right now," Ebris said, "the Orb shards from Ardyn''s caravan might be salvageable." He glanced down the road. "You came from that direction, yes? Passed by Caelryn Cave? Could you lead us to¨C"


    "Stop."


    Lucette''s low voice cut through their conversation like a melancholy knife. "You''ve interrogated the poor boy plenty." She breathed in a deep, ragged breath. "Can''t you see he''s on his last legs? Let''s give him a proper meal before he keels over. He''s family."


    Ebris blinked. "Oh. Oh!" Redness colored his cheeks with embarrassment. "Yes. Apologies, Simon. Lean on my shoulder ¨C I''ll help you to our carriage."


    It was the most beautiful sentence he''d ever heard.


    --


    Simon officially had two new best friends. Granted, that wasn''t a high bar to clear, but anyone who''d saved him from starvation and dehydration was more than deserving of the title.


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    He spent the next day recuperating in their carriage as it raced forward, fast as an Earth car on the highway. Ebris and Lucette explained to him their caravan was powered by a rare and expensive Artifact. All caravans were, merchant or otherwise. When paired with multiple Warding Stones, it was by far the quickest and safest method of travel in Valtia''s Severed Isles.


    After days of endlessly marching across the empty wastes, pushing his body to its breaking point for just one more step, the sight of familiar scenery rapidly disappearing behind him felt disquieting. It put into perspective how little distance he''d actually traversed compared to what a magically-fueled vehicle could cover in a fraction of the time.


    The duo were amused by his understated reaction, interpreting it as the restrained awe of a country bumpkin who''d been too shy to ask cousin Ardyn about his fancy technology. Simon made no effort to correct them. Even if he''d wished to, the ''Sworn to Secrecy'' Trait meant that he could never tell them the full story ¨C and what he could tell would smash their trust into infinitesimal fragments.


    It was a notion that guilted him as the hours passed by. Ebris and Lucette were...nice. Really, really nice. The merchant pair had fed him, offered him shelter and transportation, and even extended their sympathies in the form of emotional support. At different points, both of them had individually whispered that they were willing to lend an ear if he needed to vent his sorrows.


    They were deserving of honesty. And the second he gave it to them, they would likely toss him out of the carriage while it was still moving.


    I''ll have to leave soon as I can. The fabrication of ''Simon Cobblepot, Ardyn''s distant relative'' wouldn''t hold up under prolonged scrutiny. Inevitably, the holes in his story would widen until they became the size of canyons. Ebris and Lucette were giving him space for the moment, but it was only a matter of time until they asked specific questions he had no answers for.


    The two hadn''t even pressed him on why he''d been walking in the opposite direction of Springwater Village ¨C which Simon hadn''t known until they brought it up. He''d mumbled an excuse about being running from Caelryn Cave, but neither of them seemed to buy it. Nevertheless, they had said no more, not wanting to push a man in the midst of processing his grief.


    Because they were nice.


    To the point where he''d spent half the day working through a minor existential crisis. Ebris and Lucette couldn''t have realized this, but this situation ¨C right down to how they''d stopped a moving vehicle for his sake ¨C was dredging up certain issues in...very specific ways.


    Ways that he''d only ever told Grace.


    Mercifully, the privacy gave Simon time to re-rationalize his worldview. Eventually, after hours of internal deliberation, he concluded that he still didn''t need to put faith in the kindness of strangers.


    Ebris and Lucette had only shown pity because of his family name. In that sense, he wasn''t a stranger, but rather an extension of their affection for Ardyn Cobblestone. Taking in Simon also allowed them to atone for Ardyn''s death by helping a member of his family, whereas they''d been helpless to save the man himself.


    In contrast...Simon No-Name, the mysterious wanderer? He would''ve been left to rot.


    Yeah. That line of logic made everything make sense again.


    "What are you thinking of?" Lucette suddenly asked. Her voice was casual, but she couldn''t hide the concern in her eyes as she stared at him. Some of his emotions must''ve leaked through to his face.


    "That." Choosing an object at random, Simon pointed towards a rolled-up rug stashed in the corner of the carriage. "Where''d you get it?"


    The carriage was stocked with an assortment of items that seemed largely unrelated to each other. He''d spotted food, weapons, coins, books, clothes of wildly varying sizes, random knick-knacks, textiles, medicines, and even a section labeled ''poisons and antidotes''.


    Most of the items were strewn about without a care, as if they''d been hurriedly tossed inside. The disorganization caused the merchants'' carriage to resemble a traveling flea market...which apparently paid well, based on their respectable garments and surfeit of quality goods.


    Lucette''s eyes were drawn to the rug he''d pointed at. "That old thing? We picked it up from ¨C from a city. Caelryn City. Big, bustling place at the center of the Severed Isles. Like nothing you''ve ever seen. There should be a Waypoint near Springwater that leads to it. Maybe we can take you after our business here is finished?"


    Simon suppressed a frown. Her voice had hitched when mentioning the city. She''d been about to say something else, then hastily corrected herself, then attempted to distract him with promises of exploring the world beyond his provincial hick hometown.


    He was tempted to inquire further, but that would be too dangerous of a game. Asking Lucette or Ebris to open up meant giving them an opportunity to turn it around and do the same to him. Keeping his own secrets was far more important than learning of theirs.


    Especially when she''d handed him the perfect lead-in to fish for info about Valtia.


    "Caelryn City." Simon slowly spoke the words aloud, as if tasting them for the first time. "I''ve heard of it, but I''ve never been there. Never even been to a Waypoint."


    "I''d be surprised if you had. You''d need to own enough wealth to purchase a carriage ¨C and pay the teleportation fees on top. Outside of the nobility, few are that fortunate."


    You are, Simon almost blurted out. Instead, he kept his eyes on the prize. "Is Caelryn truly so much grander than Springwater?" He injected a sullen note into his voice. "Ardyn didn''t seem impressed with my village, but I don''t see what''s so wrong with it."


    Lucette adopted a conciliatory smile. "I doubt he intended anything bad by it. It''s just...once you''ve seen what the rest of Valtia has to offer, your expectations adjust. And Springwater..."


    She hesitated, as if mulling over how to soften an impending blow. "Springwater Village is in bad shape. We should pass it by and head straight to Caelryn."


    Bad shape how? Asking directly would''ve revealed how ignorant he was, so Simon merely nodded.


    When he spoke next, his tone was alight with wide-eyed exuberance. "Could you tell me more of Caelryn City? What it like?" All he knew was that it shared a name with the Sealed Demon''s cave.


    Lucette''s expression brightened. She thought she had him by the hook now. "There''s markets, stalls, and people as far as the eye can see. Duke Helmund''s son visits too frequently for my liking, but if you can avoid him, the city is yours for the taking. One time our crew went there as a group, looking to sell some wares..."

 Chapter 5.2

    Simon learned much from Lucette''s good-natured ramblings. Unlike the wasteland he''d been trudging through, not all of Valtia was an inhospitable disaster. Major cities such as Caelryn were surviving ¨C relatively speaking. At the very least, plants and livestock could still be cultivated around those areas.


    Things changed as you traveled away from those larger settlements. The farther you went, the more the ground morphed from healthy soil to a black, rocky surface. Fell Beasts propagated in higher numbers as well. Most of the distant villages like Springwater were hanging on by a thread.


    Lucette hadn''t felt the need to explain why. She seemed to assume that the cause was something he ¨C and everyone else ¨C already knew of.


    It gave him plenty to contemplate as they stopped for the evening.


    With the sun barely peeking over the horizon, their caravan made camp. They deactivated the Artifact propelling the carriage forward, double-checked the Warding Orbs, and then stepped outside to stretch their legs. It felt strange to traipse around without a care, but Ebris and Lucette were confident that they''d be safe as long as the Wards remained functional.


    Simon elected to take them at their word. His mind needed a breather just as much as his body. More days of constantly keeping watch for the Red-Eyed Hunter would''ve driven him crazy.


    Crazier.


    He was also happy to report that, after resting and eating properly for nearly two days, he was feeling leagues better than before. Transmigrator''s Body couldn''t replicate water and calories out of thin air, but it did solid work otherwise. Thanks to the merchants'' generosity, the Trait had hastened his recovery time.


    Lucette and Ebris chalked it up to youthful vigor ¨C then decided to host an impromptu party in celebration. They set up an honest-to-god cookpot near the carriage, serving bowls of what Simon soon declared to be the most delicious broth in the universe. Anything would''ve tasted delicious to someone recovering from malnutrition, yet that didn''t make the cozy little dinner feel like any less of a feast.


    "Make sure to eat your fill," Ebris remarked. "You need the energy, and we wouldn''t want Ardyn''s specter coming back to complain that we''ve treated his kin unfairly."


    Simon paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Can...that happen?" It was a legitimate question. Valtia already had glowing trees, corrupted monsters, sealed demons, and magic caravans ¨C vengeful ghosts wouldn''t be particularly out of place.


    "Oh yes." The merchant nodded gravely, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "Beware those who depart from the world with desires unfulfilled. If you ever feel an unearthly presence caressing the back of your neck, it may not be a Hunter Fell Beast, but¨C"


    Lucette lightly slapped his arm. "Quit spooking the boy, Ebris. He''s been sleeping poorly as-is." She looked at Simon with an apologetic gaze. "Pay no heed to this knave. I don''t know what fables have spread throughout Springwater Village, but rest assured that ghostly specters are no more than myths to frighten children with."


    Ebris'' mouth curled into a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Couldn''t help myself."


    Simon laughed. It was the most genuine display of emotion he''d shown the merchants thus far. They laughed in kind, appearing sincerely relieved that his mood was on the upswing.


    His happiness was their happiness.


    The transmigrator observed Ebris and Lucette as they continued eating. He saw how they talked and smiled, exchanging joy freely and openly. In this tight-knit circle of theirs, he had somehow found a place.


    No. Been given a place.


    An urge ran through him, traitorous ideas worming their way into his thoughts. Maybe...


    Maybe I can stay. Just until we reach Caelryn City.


    It wouldn''t work. He was fully aware of that. The only reason they hadn''t uncovered his deception yet was because they were intentionally not asking too many questions.


    When that grace period ended, the existence of Simon Cobblestone would come crashing down, its paper-thin foundations rent asunder by swords of truth. Perhaps literally, even, as the merchants skewered him for sullying the name of their fallen comrade.


    Soon enough, they would hate him.


    Which wouldn''t stop Simon from repaying them when he found the chance. When he later established himself in Valtia and accrued some funds of his own, a generous, anonymous donation would be sent over. They might hate him, they might curse him for his duplicity, but he would lighten their burdens as best he could.


    Ebris and Lucette had earned that much.


    Really, he couldn''t blame himself for wanting to stick around. Aside from Grace...when was the last time he''d felt this kind of warmth?


    When you were twelve years old, a small voice answered in the back of his mind, like a poison arrow aimed directly at his heart. Before you woke up one day and answered the phone.


    Simon was rescued from his ensuing mental spiral by a well-timed distraction.


    Something in the distance. He squinted. Movement. Difficult to see with the light now fading from the sky, but still visible.


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    His thoughts immediately went to Fell Beasts. But after a second of staring, he recognized the movement as something recently familiar.


    "Is that another carriage?"


    Lucette and Ebris turned to follow his gaze. "Yes," Ebris muttered. "Has to be Relia and Torben. The rest of our crew. Didn''t expect them this early."


    Simon lifted an eyebrow. "Relia? As in¨C"


    "The one who Ardyn held affections for, yes." The merchant sighed, running a hand down his face. "She and Torben were headed to Springwater Village. Wanted to try and talk Ardyn out of his folly. If they''re coming down the road from that direction...then they''ve already seen the remains of his group."


    He sent a nervous glance at Simon. "Don''t tell her about Ardyn''s feelings. And definitely not about him planning to court her. Will rub salt in the wound."


    Simon mutely nodded. That was a request he was more than happy to accommodate. The less he spoke to other members of the merchant crew, the better. It would only take one rightfully paranoid soul to expose his falsehoods.


    A sense of anxious tension grew within him as the second carriage raced up the road. He racked his brain, devising contingency after contingency, producing backup lies to cover holes in his story. The vehicle began to slow, then finally stopped, parking expertly near their campsite.


    Two people hopped out. Simon wasted no time Identifying them.


    Name: Relia Redbow


    Description: A merchant of sorts. Armed, dangerous, and won''t hesitate to defend herself. In love with Ardyn Cobblestone. Was waiting for him to confess. Is now plagued with bitter regrets.


    Estimated Level: 8


    Name: Torben Khemu


    Description: A merchant of sorts. Armed, dangerous, and won''t hesitate to defend himself. Taciturn. Prefers to solve problems before they become problems.


    Estimated Level: 7


    His eye twitched once at the lack of useful intel. He''d honestly learned more just by looking at them.


    Relia and Torben were younger than Ebris and Lucette, although still older than Simon, seeming to be in their late 20s. Their attire was on par with the first two merchants, and their weapons were well taken care-of.


    Unlike the others ¨C who all wielded swords ¨C Relia possessed a longbow. Her bow was painted a glaring blood-red, indicating that her surname may have been purposefully chosen rather than inherited. Or that she''d adored her birth name so much as to shape her fighting style around it.


    Lastly, both Relia and Torben had evidently discovered the remnants of Ardyn''s ill-fated dreams. The pair wore expressions of understated grief, as if their tears had been spent long before this meeting.


    Silver linings, Simon mused, his face impassive. They can corroborate parts of my story. I left enough of Stuart''s meat behind that its body was still recognizable as a giant rat.


    "Hi." Relia''s greeting was short and clipped. She spared a single glance for the newcomer, unvoiced questions swimming in her eyes, but then quickly turned back towards Ebris and Lucette. "Bad news to report. We...found Ardyn."


    She told the exact tale Simon needed. A demolished caravan. No usable Warding Orbs. Multiple dead humans. One dead Fell Beast. With every word, Relia unwittingly substantiated his half of the story ¨C and the existence of Ardyn''s distant Cobblestone cousin.


    "Thank you for informing us," Ebris affirmed, his tone sympathetic. "It must have been difficult, finding them in such a state. You''ve been through much."


    Relia let out a faltering breath. "We have." She composed herself, then peered at Simon. "Gotta ask. Who''s¨C"


    A muffled shout emanated from within the second carriage.


    Simon''s head snapped towards the sound. "Did anyone else hear that?"


    "Oh, right." Relia''s tone was casual, like she was just now remembering something she''d forgotten to mention. "Picked up some cargo near Springwater Village."


    Cargo.


    The word didn''t sink in just yet. It didn''t sink in when Ebris and Lucette gave Simon nervous glances. It didn''t sink in as Relia led the group to her carriage and opened up the side door.


    It only truly sank in when he looked inside.


    Two people were laying on the floor, bound in ropes and cloth gags. Their restraints were tight, having been tied by a well-practiced hand.


    One person was a young woman around Simon''s age, while the other was a man old enough to be her father. Their matching red hair gave credence to that assumption. Both were completely unable to move, like pigs trussed up for the butcher''s block.


    And both were staring up with gazes of pure hatred.


    "Think they''d fetch a decent price at Springwater?" Relia commented. "We''ll be needing funds to replace Ardyn''s carriage."


    In that instant, Simon belatedly realized that he''d been misinterpreting a critical piece of information. Despite his frustration with Identify''s recent lack of detail...it had warned him of this very thing, four times in a row.


    Ebris, Lucette, Relia, and Torben were all merchants.


    Of sorts.

 Chapter 6.1

    The moment stretched out into infinity as Simon stared at the two bound captives. His mind was a kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions, a tempest of roaring fervor. Breathing was a struggle. If someone had asked him a question right then, he wouldn''t have been able to speak.


    None of that rose to the surface. None of it showed on his expression. An outside observer may have praised his commendable poker face, but no. It was merely that he felt so many things at the same time they were canceling each other out.


    All that remained was a crushing tightness in his chest.


    "Springwater Village won''t purchase them," Ebris explained. He glanced at Simon, as if waiting for an outburst. When that never came, he continued addressing the other...merchants. "Rural villages take a hard stance against our profession. It affects them the most. And their coffers are barren, anyhow."


    Simon''s gaze hadn''t shifted from the two captives. He kept running through scenarios in his head, imagining how he could save them. Summon a weapon. Cut the ropes. Hold off the merchants as the father and daughter ran.


    Except his best weapon in Inventory was a broken sword, and he was the lowest-Level fighter here.


    "That''s a problem," Relia said, frowning. "Waiting until Caelryn City to sell them would eat into our profits."


    "Why so?" asked Lucette. Lucette, who had invited him into her carriage. Lucette, who had cheerfully regaled him with escapades of Caelryn City. Lucette, who had offered him warm broth just minutes prior.


    Relia pointed at the older male captive. "He''s sick. Not sure what with, but he needs medicine ¨C and more rations than normal. We''d have to use extra supplies on the trip there, then somehow find a buyer willing to take him off our hands."


    I have the Glove of Minor Power, Simon thought. Plus my demonic arm. In a battle against four higher-Level opponents, that''s worth...not enough. Not even close. What if¨C


    "Let''s just kill him."


    Simon practically gave himself whiplash with how fast his head turned. The fourth merchant ¨C Torben ¨C had spoken up for the first time.


    "Girl is young, healthy, pretty," the man remarked. "She''ll fetch a high price. The father? Too old and frail. Damaged goods. No one''ll want him as a workhorse. Keeping him alive is a sunk cost."


    He patted the sword attached to his belt. "Cut the throat, leave the corpse. Give the Fell Beasts a meal so they bother us less."


    Both captives made noises beneath the thick gags covering their mouths. The woman''s gaze shifted from hatred and loathing to one of wide-eyed terror.


    Ebris and Lucette exchanged a look. After a couple seconds of consideration, they nodded. "Very well," Ebris proclaimed. "I''ll trust your judgement on¨C"


    "Wait."


    Simon didn''t raise his voice, nor did he cry out in righteous anger. He spoke with a calm, collected tone, as if was disagreeing on which restaurant they should go to for dinner. "Is that necessary?"


    Relia blinked at him. "I''m sorry, but who are you?"


    "Simon Cobblestone."


    He threw out the name like a grenade for Relia to deal with, turning away from the woman as her expression twisted with shock. Simon faced Ebris, who seemed to be the nominal leader of their crew. "Killing the man is pointless. If you don''t want to sell him, then just let him go."


    Ebris shook his head. "Shouldn''t do that." He had adopted the gentle, infuriating tone of a man explaining difficult truths to a boy who didn''t know any better. "If he survives, he could return to exact vengeance on us. It''s happened before."


    "Wouldn''t survive anyway," Torben interjected. "We aren''t giving back his portable Orb. Beasts''ll make short work of him."


    Right. Fell Beasts. Without the protection of Warding Orbs, escape was likely to end in a visit from the Red-Eyed Hunter ¨C or something even worse.


    Which still might be preferable to what awaits them in Caelryn City.


    Simon forced himself to nod at Ebris and Torben, as if that was the most reasonable stance he''d ever heard. "Okay, but that still doesn''t answer why you''re killing him. What''s wrong with leaving the man be?"


    "He''ll cut into our supplies," Lucette replied, in a soft voice that made Simon want to scream. "Rations and medicine aren''t cheap."


    "Then let him starve."


    They hadn''t been expecting that. As the four merchants gaped in surprise, Simon shrugged, his shoulders aching from how tense they were. "If the man is a resource sink...just don''t spend any resources. The problem will resolve itself soon enough. He and his daughter can live out their last few days as family."


    He gestured towards the bound woman. "I''m sure she would be grateful to have additional time together. So grateful that she wouldn''t cause any trouble whatsoever on the road to Caelryn City." The words almost prompted bile to rise up from the back of his throat. "A handful of generosity can buy an ocean of gratitude ¨C isn''t that right?"


    Simon locked eyes with the woman, silently urging her to play along. Eventually, after several nerve-wracking seconds, she slowly nodded in assent.


    "There you have it," he affirmed. "Leaving the man alive is a net positive for our crew."


    Relia scoffed at him. "Our crew? And just who are you to¨C"


    "Easy now," Ebris warned. "Emotions are running high. Let''s revisit this when you and Simon have been properly introduced."


    "I don''t need an introduction to spot a two-bit charlatan." Relia''s glare turned vicious. "What did he tell you? Ardyn''s distant brother, I presume?"


    "Cousin," Simon casually put forth.


    "Ancient One take your soul, liar. Ardyn would''ve told me if he had a cousin."


    A tiny bit of Simon''s self-control irrevocably fractured. "I think there''s plenty Ardyn never told you, Relia."


    She stilled. "Like what?"


    "Like how he lov¨C"


    Ebris grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. "Lucette and I need to have a private talk with Simon." He looked at each person in turn. "Don''t touch the cargo. We''ll decide what to do with them later."


    They led him to the other side of camp, outside of Relia and Torben''s range of hearing. It was a short walk that lasted roughly a thousand years.


    Once they''d picked a spot, Ebris and Lucette stood awkwardly side-by-side, facing Simon. They seemed to crumple under the weight of his unblinking gaze. "You have questions?" Lucette offered.


    Simon said nothing. He didn''t trust himself to speak just yet.


    "Ardyn never told you," Ebris began. "About our method of trade, I mean. He wanted to keep you at arm''s length from the business."


    "You attack people." The words felt like they were being spoken by someone else. "You take their things. Take them."


    Lucette answered immediately. "Yes. That''s how we''ve survived."


    She didn''t sound guilty. It was just a statement of fact. If anything, the only thing she sounded concerned over was how Simon would respond.


    Realizing that jolted him out of his fugue. You''re acting irrational, he told himself. Gather intel. Assess the situation. Make plans. That''s how you handle unforeseen dilemmas. Get to it, and stop wasting time.


    "I assumed you were merchants." First step was to ensure they didn''t excommunicate him. Had to talk normally. "That''s what Ardyn led me to believe."


    "We consider ourselves as such," Ebris clarified.


    Titles like bandits and slavers thundered in Simon''s mind. "Right." He tapped his pointer finger on his thigh. "For how long?"


    "Fifteen years or so. Weren''t always in the business, but it''s given us a better way of life than anything before."


    Simon started to wonder how many people they enslaved each year. That, multiplied by fifteen, would measure the extent of the unfathomable suffering they had wrought.


    Stop it. Stop feeling so betrayed. Did you forget that the sole reason you draw breath is because you stole a name from a dead man? If you weren''t dear cousin Cobblestone, you''d have ended up abandoned ¨C or as their newest piece of cargo. They were never saints to begin with.


    He knew that.


    He...knew that.


    So why...


    "Do you need time alone to think?" Lucette asked.


    Simon had no choice but to accept. He wasn''t in any condition to navigate this conversation. "I do."


    Ebris nodded. "We''ll speak to Relia on your behalf. She''s not usually so thorny as this. Ardyn''s death has affected her deeply ¨C a pain that I''m sure you are quite familiar with."


    "Water under the bridge." Simon paused. "As for the father¨C"


    "Not to worry. We don''t see any harm in leaving him be."


    It was an olive branch. They didn''t care one iota about whether the man lived or died. Just whether agreeing would help Simon come around to their way of thinking.


    One day to resolve this. The man had been in captivity for a day or two already. Relia and Torben wouldn''t have fed him. Simon also knew full well how badly malnutrition and dehydration affected a person''s body. If the man was ill on top of that...


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    One day. At most. After that, he might be too weak to recover.


    "Thanks. I appreciate it." Simon gave them a stiff thumbs-up, then moved to walk away.


    "We''ll be here if you need to talk," Lucette said. Another bright smile was decorating her face.


    Simon bit back a hollow laugh. Just half an hour ago, their kindness had warmed his heart.


    Now it simply burned.


    --


    Both carriages soon turned in for the night. Ebris thought it best for everyone to cool down, catch some sleep, and then tackle the next day with refreshed mindsets.


    It took immense willpower for Simon not to sneak over and try freeing the captives.


    His attempt would have failed. The slavers were alternating watches throughout the night. To ensure that the captives survived, Simon would need to steal a portable Warding Orb, gather enough rations for two people to subsist on for at least a few days, and then remove their bindings. All while not being seen or heard. When he had absolutely zero proficiency in stealth.


    Impossible.


    That cold logic did little to prevent the alluring call of ''What if...'' from replaying in his mind, over and over and over.


    Needless to say, he didn''t sleep a wink, laying pensively on a cot inside Ebris and Lucette''s carriage. His time was instead spent on devising a plan of action that might realistically succeed.


    It didn''t take long. Steps naturally fell into place as the moonlit night passed by, like puzzle pieces that were meant for each other. No other plan he could envision possessed the slightest hope of succeeding.


    However, it was predicated on an all-important question. One that he was still figuring out.


    Why is Identify so inconsistent?


    Simon believed that there was no such thing as a perfectly impartial analysis. Aside from ''hard science'' disciplines like mathematics, everything was open to interpretation. With the right name, an unknown vagrant could become a fast friend. Slavers thought themselves merchants, and villains thought themselves heroes.


    People couldn''t even agree on the sanctity of a life.


    So he couldn''t entirely fault Identify for being inconsistent. It didn''t need to tell him an object''s whole life story. Just a smattering of relevant information would''ve been greatly appreciated.


    Such as warning him a bit more clearly that he was traveling with monsters.


    But it wasn''t always like that. Identify had informed him that Stuart''s meat was toxic. It could predict the remaining lifespan of a Warding Orb. The bizarre properties of the Red-Eyed Hunter had been plainly revealed to him ¨C no problem.


    What was different this time? Why hadn''t it revealed who Ebris, Lucette, and the others really were?


    Hours later, he''d finally come up with a hypothesis he felt confident in. The answer seemed simple yet complicated, and it would influence how he utilized Identify moving forward.


    Fact: Identify could provide information that Simon was completely unaware of. This had been confirmed on numerous occasions. Simon couldn''t have known precisely how long a Warding Orb would last, or that one of Kirkelas'' titles was the Sealed Demon of Ruination. Those details were too specific.


    Fact: Identify had never told him anything that, theoretically, he couldn''t have guessed himself. Even if the guess was one-in-a-million. Sure, it''d informed him that a nondescript glove was actually an Artifact of power...but he''d been looking for weapons and tools at the time. And a title like ''The Sealed Demon of Ruination'' was just a string of words that sounded appropriately diabolical. With a run of exceptional predictive luck, he wouldn''t have needed Identify at all.


    Hypothesis: Identify''s output was directed by his own biases and assumptions. It focused on whatever key details he thought would be the most crucial to learn.


    If he was concerned that Stuart''s meat was inedible, then Identify might confirm that guess for him. If he believed that a Fell Hunter possessed unnatural abilities, then the Skill might inform him of those abilities. It could even throw in some freebie info, like explaining how the Sanctuary Tree used to be part of a larger grove, as that was still related to how confused he''d felt over finding a lone tree in the middle of a wasteland.


    But it didn''t tell him that Red-Eyes would flee at the sight of his demonic arm. Simon hadn''t considered that as a possibility at all. Although seemingly omniscient, Identify couldn''t create a brand-new interpretation of the world for him.


    And what had he thought when he first saw Ebris and Lucette''s carriage?


    ''It resembled an old-timey caravan that settlers would''ve taken on the Oregon Trail, or that merchants used in the games he''d played.''


    Settlers. Merchants. Quaint concepts with harmless associations. Their clothes had only reinforced the notion of them being respectable folk. People he could treat with a normal amount of caution.


    The idea of them being bandit slavers had never crossed his mind.


    Thus, Identify rolled with his interpretation. While it couldn''t present outright false information, it also didn''t need to correct anything, as technically, he hadn''t been wrong. These were indeed merchants...of sorts.


    My fault. Simon grit his teeth. If I''d been suspicious of their true activities ¨C even just a fleeting thought ¨C then Identify probably would''ve warned me. I got lured in by smiling faces, veneers of compassion, and a hot dinner. Didn''t look below the surface. Didn''t want to.


    To be honest, he was surprised at himself. Judging a book by its cover was a rookie mistake. He''d been disappointed enough times by people to know better than this.


    In a flash, Simon jolted upright, the thought echoing in his mind. Disappointed.


    Hmm.


    Before doing anything else, he glanced at Lucette, sleeping soundly in the corner. Identify.


    Name: Lucette Drenoka


    Description: A merchant of sorts. Armed, dangerous, and won''t hesitate to defend herself. Views family as sacrosanct, and those outside the family...not so much.


    Estimated Level: 8


    Exactly the same. Apparently, one of Identify''s quirks was that its Descriptions wouldn''t update after being used. Or maybe there were hidden conditions to update it that he wasn''t fulfilling? Either way, he couldn''t use it to gather new information about the slavers, who''d all been immediately subjected to Identify when he met them.


    But the slavers weren''t the only people here.


    Doing his utmost not to make a sound, he crept over to the side of the carriage interior. Simon gently cracked its door open, peeking outside.


    The second carriage belonging to Relia could be seen on the other side of camp. She was on guard, watching the captives in case they managed to untie themselves and make a run for it. The captives themselves were still bound with ropes, lying motionless on the caravan''s floor.


    And luckily, they were in view through a small window on the side.


    I''d rather not be disappointed by people again so soon. What he discovered wouldn''t change the first half of his plan, but the second half...


    Well, it would be nice to know if he''d been sticking his neck out for secret serial killers or something. Wasn''t too late to pivot.


    Identify.


    Name: Katarina Cartier


    Description: Fled from Caelryn City to seek a better life. Partially for herself ¨C but mainly for her father. May end up returning in chains. Refuses to give up hope. Over the years, she has grievously injured one person in self-defense, but has never killed.


    Estimated Level: 5


    Name: Gerold Cartier


    Description: Fled from Caelryn City to seek a better life. Partially for himself ¨C but mainly for his daughter. Things were looking up until a slaver caravan found them on the road. Over the years, he has killed three people, all of them in...mostly self-defense. He regrets the more violent times of his life. If left untreated, his illness will prove fatal.


    Estimated Level: 3 (13 when healthy)


    A daughter and a father, two souls bound by blood, supporting each other when no one else could. Both had endured harsh times up until now. One had killed ¨C but in self-defense, and he seemed to be trying to leave his past behind.


    That was more than good enough for Simon.


    He was just about to close the door when the young woman ¨C Katarina ¨C opened her eyes.


    She stared across the camp, her intense gaze drilling into his. It was a look that rang louder than any scream. Without speaking a single word, she beseeched his aid, pleading for him to come over and help them escape.


    Guilt pierced Simon''s chest as he gingerly shut the door. It stung, but his plan wasn''t ready. He couldn''t do anything for them.


    Yet.


    He peered at another section of Ebris and Lucette''s carriage, locating his target among the cluttered items.


    Identify.

 Chapter 6.2

    The next morning was a quiet, uneasy affair.


    Ebris and Lucette tried their utmost to smooth tensions. They greeted everyone with wide smiles, formally introduced Simon to Relia and Torben...then grimaced as their efforts fizzled out like embers smothered by a wintry snowstorm. Torben remained silent, and while Simon exchanged several terse words with Relia, that was all.


    It was for the best. Speaking with Relia would''ve invariably led to her questioning his supposed relation to Ardyn. Simon had prepared answers and stories over the past night, but the simplest way to pass an interrogation was to avoid it entirely.


    And it wasn''t like he had any comforting platitudes to offer her, either. Not if he wanted to be honest about how he felt.


    ''Ardyn? Yeah, he got what was coming to him. Those who live by the sword die by the sword, and those who enslave others shouldn''t be surprised when karma arrives in the form of an oversized rodent. Besides, Stuart ¨C that''s what I call the rat, we''re close ¨C did everyone a favor by munching on that expedition. If Ardyn had actually made it to Caelryn Cave, he would''ve reached the bottom and found the Sealed Demon of Ruination. Probably sets Kirkelas free for some pocket change and a pat on the back. Anyone with the poor judgement to fall in love with you would *totally* make a deal with a devil.''


    Some opinions were better left unsaid.


    Ebris made breakfast for them. More broth. It was objectively delicious, and tasted like sandpaper on Simon''s tongue. He ate it anyway to keep up appearances, acutely aware of Katarina glaring holes into the back of his skull.


    Her father was struggling. Gerold''s eyes had lost their vigor, as if a milky haze was clouding his mind. Without food or water to sustain him, the man''s illness was worsening by the hour.


    Simon did nothing. He merely went back to his cot alone, gathered what he needed, and bided his time.


    The carriages set off again. At some point they passed by Caelryn Cave. According to Ebris, it would be another two days or so until their procession reached Springwater Village. Relia had argued that they make a pit stop there; obviously to verify that Simon really was a resident, or expose him if he wasn''t.


    Simon saw no reason to disagree. Matters would be settled long before then.


    At noon, their dual caravan stopped once more. Time for lunch. Lucette''s turn to cook.


    She was just about to begin when Simon approached her.


    "Hey." He put on a hesitant, embarrassed tone, as if he''d been working up the nerve to speak all day. "Sorry for...sorry. Mind if I handle lunch? You guys keep making meals for me, and I haven''t returned the favor, and...yeah."


    Lucette''s smile was so broad that it outshone the midday sun. "That sounds delightful," she answered, seeing his offer as an attempt to mend bridges. "Doesn''t need to be amazing. Whatever you can manage is fine."


    Simon did just that, largely copying the recipe he''d watched Ebris make at breakfast. Less chance of cooking something that people wouldn''t eat. The main difference was that he went somewhat heavier on the spices ¨C enough to mask the flavor, but without raising eyebrows. That was important.


    The four slavers ate without complaint. So did Simon. Ebris was sitting closest to him, while Lucette had positioned herself partway between him and Relia to act as a social buffer.


    He waited until everyone was halfway finished with their food before speaking up.


    "I''d like to know more." Simon faced Ebris and Lucette, assuming a neutral, non-judgemental tone. "How did your crew start up? When did Ardyn join?"


    Ebris nodded, seeming pleased that he was asking. "As I told you yesterday, we joined together fifteen years ago. Ardyn was a founder." He scratched his chin. "I suppose we began much like any other merchant crew does ¨C by identifying a market that needed filling."


    "You weren''t born into the trade? Or inducted into it by force? Or¨C"


    "It was our choice, Simon." Ebris winced, buried memories flickering in his expression. "If you knew the trials we''d endured before...it is no exaggeration to say that this was our salvation. As someone hailing from Springwater Village, you should be well-aware of the struggle that we commoners face."


    Two more commoners struggled behind him, writhing in their bindings, days away from being sold into a living hell ¨C or just murdered out of convenience.


    Simon took a second to compose himself. Frontal assault won''t work. He would never convince them to upend their entire way of life at the drop of a hat.


    Attack from the side. "I think that these two people are not unlike us," he remarked, gesturing towards Katarina and Gerold. "What if you went after people who were ¨C for lack of better phrasing ¨C more deserving? Like unrepentant murderers, or¨C"


    "Other slavers?" Torben interrupted. His fellow three ''merchants'' flinched at the title, like it was something they''d agreed not to state so directly. "Would bring trouble on our heads," he continued. "You don''t go after people that deserve it. You go after people that won''t be missed."


    "Oh." Simon tapped his spoon against the side of his bowl, letting out a bit of pent-up energy. "And you''re happy with...being you?"


    Lucette quickly chimed in, cutting off what Torben was about to say next. "Before forming the crew, we all walked different paths in different cities. None of our old vocations proved fruitful. Everyone here knows what it feels like to starve."


    A sharp edge entered her voice. "There simply aren''t enough opportunities for lower-caste folk. Either you find a way to pander to the ones with coin, or you live in filthy, run-down hovels, eking out a miserable living in the hope that tomorrow will be less of an unrelenting slog. I can''t go back to that, Simon. I won''t. Not after experiencing what it means to be free and live well."


    She exhaled, pointing at Simon''s bowl. "The meals you''ve enjoyed these past days wouldn''t have been possible without our business."


    "Then why feed me?" he snapped. "I''m sure I''d fetch a fine price." It wasn''t the right thing to say, but he couldn''t stop himself. "Why not tie me up like those two?"


    "Because you''re family," Lucette replied, without hesitating. "Ardyn''s blood is our blood. When we first joined together, we made a vow to protect each other no matter the cost. It is an immutable law we hold above all others. The world may crumble, but we shall stand strong ¨C as one."


    He forced himself to relax, integrating that new tidbit of knowledge into his plans. Was wondering why they were giving me so much leeway. They take the ''found family'' thing even farther than I realized.


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    Familial loyalty. An admirable quality.


    And a prime weakness to be exploited.


    "That...sounds nice," Simon replied, as if contemplating the pros and cons. "How much do you get paid per¨C"


    "You aren''t joining us," Relia spat.


    "Relia," Lucette admonished. "He''s¨C"


    "He''s angling to release the cargo. Don''t you see it in his eyes? This fraud of a Cobblestone will shake our hands, swear our vows ¨C then let easy gold walk free like he''d tossed coins down the gutter."


    Ebris frowned at her. "And we''ll be there to stop him," he said, admitting that he was aware of at least part of Simon''s plan. "The boy is young. He doesn''t understand just yet. Remember that it took us some time to grow accustomed to the business as well."


    "But why bother with him? Even if you''re willing to overlook his duplicity, he doesn''t need to stay here and ruin a good thing. He can just go back to being a beggar at Springwater, or whatever he was."


    "You''ve answered your own question. A member of our family ¨C because that''s what he is ¨C deserves better than hunger and poverty. I want to give him a comfortable life while we still can."


    Simon blinked. "...While you still can?"


    The four slavers simultaneously averted their gazes. None of them could look him in the eye.


    A solid five seconds had gone by before Ebris sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Tell me, Simon ¨C did the land around Springwater used to appear more vibrant?"


    He had no idea, though the context was clear. "I think so. It''s tough to remember everything from when I was a kid, but I''m pretty sure there was more green back then."


    "Just so. This may be difficult for you to believe, yet when I was a child, plants weren''t so uncommon as this. When my father was a child, there was even more. When his father was a child...you see where I''m going with this. As the years go by, our land shrivels like fruit baking under the sun. Only one conclusion can be gleaned from this pattern."


    Ebris laced his fingers together, his legs twitching with repressed emotion. "In three decades or less, all life on Valtia''s Severed Isles shall be depleted."


    Simon froze. For a brief moment he forgot about the plan, his mind filled with visions of empty towns and overflowing graveyards. He knew that the purpose of transmigration was to rescue doomed worlds, but hearing a line like that from a Valtian native...kinda hit different.


    "Hold on," he said. "Maybe places like Springwater will disappear, but I thought cities like Caelryn were¨C"


    "Surviving. For now. They choose to ignore what is already transpiring at distant villages, as that is their luxury. By the time this pattern reaches them, it will be too late to reverse it. Duke Helmund will have drained the Severed Isles of every drop of mana and life."


    Duke Helmund. The same ruler that Kirkelas had blamed for Valtia''s decline.


    Apparently, the Demon had been truthful about that much.


    A wry, humorless grin inched up Ebris'' face. "Few people would agree with my conclusion. Openly, at any rate. It is far too harrowing for them to accept. Yet...notice how my compatriots do not raise their voices in dissent. Us four have traveled far and wide while conducting business, and we''ve witnessed what is happening to these lands with our very own eyes."


    His gaze deadened to a look of sunken fatalism. "The pattern cannot be ignored."


    Simon recalled something that Voice-In-The-Sky had foretold. Both an explanation...and a premonition.


    ''Without its champion''s strength, all life on Valtia shall vanish within the span of one year.''


    Ebris was right about the impending apocalypse. He''d just gotten the timeline wrong.


    "Your heart breaks for them," the slaver continued, pointing towards Katarina and Gerold. "I understand. We were like you, once. You imagine the pain they will suffer, and seek to rescue them from their fate."


    He shrugged. It seemed forced. "But what does it matter? They''ll be dead in decades regardless. The man''s best years are behind him, and even if the girl escaped, she wouldn''t live a full life before everything falls apart. They''re worth more as a bag of coins with which to ease our burdens."


    Simon clenched his fists. "Nothing is certain. You said that Duke Helmund is responsible. He''s just a man ¨C he can be stopped."


    Relia burst out laughing. "Just a MAN? By the Ancient One, you are confident in yourself. I''d be envious if it wasn''t so absurd."


    She waved a dismissive hand at him. "By all means. Join the Hurricane. Throw yourself at Helmund like the rest of those suicidal fools. It won''t change anything. Might as well try summoning the rain while you''re at it."


    Looking from person to person, Simon found only stares of pity reflected back at him. They believed he was naive; an uncut stone in the midst of being tempered by the harshness of reality. Without evidence to the contrary, his assertions were seen as no more than deluded ramblings.


    And even if he told them everything he knew...even if he suddenly shot up to Level 1000, teleported to Duke Helmund, and assassinated him on the spot...


    They still wouldn''t change their ways. Not when it had benefited them for so long already.


    Their fatalism was real and genuine. That didn''t mean it wasn''t an excuse.


    "You can''t care for everyone, Simon," Ebris said, his voice low. "Pick some people ¨C then hold onto them with all you''ve got. Forget the rest. They aren''t your concern."


    Simon''s posture sagged. "That''s just how it is?"


    "That''s just how it is."


    Of course.


    He could trick a god. He could defraud a Demon.


    But he couldn''t teach empathy to those who failed to comprehend its value.


    Ebris lightly coughed into his hand. Like a flipped switch, Simon sat up straighter. The signal had been given ¨C it was time to get this show on the road.


    As if things could have ended any other way. He''d known they wouldn''t listen to him. From start to finish, this whole conversation had been an indulgence on his part. It wasn''t necessary for the plan to succeed.


    Yet...he''d needed to try. Ebris and Lucette had earned that much from him.


    "For what it''s worth, I agree with you on one thing." Simon softened his tone. "No one can save everyone. Even if you don''t go out of your way to hurt people, we''re still bound by our inherent limitations. Give one charity a hundred dollars, and that''s money you can''t donate to another. Kindness is often a zero-sum game."


    He glanced over. "And at the end of the day...we all need to make a choice."


    Ebris was in the middle of replying when a summoned longsword slashed his throat open.

 Chapter 7.1

    The Glove of Minor Power. A stolen longsword, produced from Inventory. The element of surprise.


    That was all it took to kill a man six Levels higher.


    Simon froze. Not out of shock or regret ¨C but out of confusion. He had never killed anyone before. Never even hurt anyone outside of schoolyard fights, really. Taking a life should have been momentous, horrifying, world-shattering, soul-altering. It was an act that separated men from monsters. It should have been more difficult, but it just...


    Wasn''t.


    One slice. As if cutting strings.


    Ebris collapsed forward, gurgling, his hand clutching at his ruined throat. A fountain of blood poured outwards, staining the ground with crimson red.


    Some fading dregs of awareness were still present in his eyes, yet they would soon be gone. Simon''s blow had been clean; nearly a decapitation. The slaver''s head was hanging from a mere inch of flesh.


    Lucette and Torben hadn''t moved. They were frozen more stiff than Simon, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Like a pair of deer in the headlights, about to be flattened by an oncoming truck.


    Simon felt no guilt at the sight ¨C intentionally so. Guilt was a distracting indulgence that he couldn''t afford to entertain. He''d already wasted enough time¨C


    Movement. He jerked back, an arrow sailing through the space where his head had been.


    "Knew it," Relia hissed. Her bow was at the ready, aimed directly at his torso. "Knew you were a snake." Without shifting her gaze from Simon, she motioned frantically at Lucette. "Snap out of it! Heal Ebris!"


    ...Heal?


    The thought had barely entered his mind when Lucette abruptly jerked up, nodding. She rushed over to Ebris, her hands beginning to shine with a gentle, soothing glow, reminiscent of the Sanctuary Tree.


    Simon suppressed a spike of anxiety. Lucette knows magic? His strategy had been predicated on the slavers not having access to fantasy-style healing. They hadn''t exhibited magic or mentioned it in any capacity, and he''d searched their carriage for healing potions with Identify, turning up nothing.


    Yet evidently, Lucette could cast healing spells. It just hadn''t come up in conversation.


    He grimaced. No plan survives contact with the enemy, but he''d hoped this one would proceed for a bit longer before hitting snags.


    "Speak." Relia glared at him like he was mud she''d scraped off her boot. "Who put you up to this? Was it another crew? Did you kill Ard¨C"


    Simon summoned one of his broken swords and threw it at Lucette. Ebris'' wound was severe, and attempting to heal him might fail, but there was no point in letting her try. Lucette hurriedly flung herself to the side, unnerved by the sudden projectile and the strange blue glow of Inventory.


    Movement again. Relia was firing another arrow. Simon knew he wouldn''t be able to dodge this one.


    It shot through the air...and grazed past his body.


    She''d missed.


    Simon exhaled with relief, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Just in time.


    "I...huh?" Relia was at a loss for words. Breathing harshly, she glanced at her hands. They were shaking like leaves caught up in a storm. "Why am I..."


    A hacking cough burst forth from her lungs. The archer staggered, then toppled to her knees, the painted red bow slipping from her grasp. Lucette and Torben went down shortly after. Within seconds, the three remaining slavers were immobilized and on the ground, twitching violently.


    "Sorry," Simon told them, almost meaning it. "Couldn''t have won any other way."


    Ebris and Lucette''s carriage housed a wide variety of unique items. Their plundered cargo included ¨C but was not limited to ¨C food, weapons, coins, books, clothes of wildly varying sizes, random knick-knacks, textiles, medicines...


    And a section labeled ''poisons and antidotes''.


    Normally, he couldn''t have snuck deadly poison straight out from under their noses. However, Ebris and Lucette had been kind enough to leave him alone for extended periods of time, letting him cool off after his spat with Relia. Their carriage was also so cluttered that they hadn''t noticed a few missing items among the mess.


    Normally, he wouldn''t have known the correct dosages to use. Identify fixed that. It had informed him of the precise amount to slip into the lunch he''d cooked for everyone. With just the right portions, and added spices to mask the poison''s flavor, they couldn''t even taste the difference.


    Normally, he would have been caught regardless. The slavers were wary folk by nature. However, to Ebris and Lucette, Simon Cobblestone was family...and family was inherently trustworthy. Torben had followed their lead on that. Relia had still been suspicious, but her opinion was overruled by social consensus.


    And besides ¨C even she hadn''t expected him to go this far. What kind of lunatic poisoned a meal, then ate it alongside his intended victims?


    The lunatic with Identify telling him which antidotes to take in advance, Simon mused.


    All things considered, his scheme was proceeding rather smoothly. Nothing could be left to chance when planning to assassinate four higher-Level combatants. He had spent most of last night accounting for as many details as possible.


    Except one.


    "Neu...tra...lize."


    A trembling voice called out. White light radiated in his peripheral vision.


    Already knowing what he would find, Simon turned to face Lucette. The woman rapidly stood to her feet, no longer shaking. The light dissipated from her hands, its task completed.


    Healing magic that can cure poison. Fix wounds too, based on how she tried to help Ebris.


    Immediately, he wanted it. Simon was close to asking how she''d learned magic ¨C when Lucette''s vicious, hateful glare gave him pause. Her eyes blazed with righteous fury as she drew her longsword from its hilt.


    He pursed his lips. Hmm. Yeah. Don''t think playing the ''family'' card is gonna get me out of this one.


    Alert: Ebris Twobreath has been slain!


    Your Level and Stats have increased!


    Level: 3 ¡ú 4


    Strength: 15 ¡ú 17


    Dexterity: 13 ¡ú15


    Simon spared a glance for the crumpled slaver. Ebris'' body had gone completely still, the flow of spilt blood ¨C and his heartbeat ¨C having come to a halt. The poison kicking in hadn''t done him any favors either.


    It was fortuitous timing. Simon had a feeling that he was going to need those four stat points.


    A pained scream tore its way from Lucette''s throat as she charged forward. The slaver advanced, and the transmigrator retreated, hefting his stolen longsword.


    Unfortunately, Voice-In-The-Sky''s system hadn''t granted him any ingrained knowledge of swordsmanship. This was the first day he''d even held a sword that wasn''t broken. The most he could do was emulate stances he''d watched in movies and TV shows, and he knew those were hardly effective in real-world scenarios.


    Lucette''s blade came down like a battering ram. Simon raised his own to block it. His muscles tensed as she pushed him back, barely retaining his balance.


    With that single exchange, he''d confirmed that he was woefully outclassed. Level 8 wasn''t the highest in the world...but it was still double his own. More importantly, while he doubted that the slavers were expert fighters ¨C preying on the weak seemed to be their modus operandi ¨C Lucette was clearly accustomed to wielding a sword. In her hands, it was a weapon.


    Simon may as well have been swinging around a very large stick.


    Putting distance between himself and the rampaging avatar of vengeance in the form of a woman, Simon hastily assessed his options. The Glove of Minor Strength was on cooldown; it couldn''t be used for the next hour. He wouldn''t win a fair swordfight. Lucette had neutralized her poison.


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    The only card left remaining to him was his demonic arm. It slightly boosted his right arm''s Strength when Shapeshifted, and it would allow access to Demonic Skills like Fell Harvest. With that...he might be able to pull victory from the jaws of defeat.


    However, he was hesitant to reveal it just yet. More than improved Strength or Demonic Skills, what he really valued was the element of surprise. Lucette would be stunned when he shifted his arm¨C perhaps stunned long enough for him to land a proverbial sucker-punch on her.


    But if that failed too? If he didn''t perfectly take advantage of one singular moment?


    Then he would be out of luck and out of options.


    He hurriedly glanced around the battlefield, desperately searching for something to use. Warding Orbs. Limited range on their aura. Lucette is furious ¨C maybe not thinking straight. Could I lure her away from the carriages? Bait her towards Fell Beast territory?


    No. There was no guarantee that a Fell Beast was nearby right now. Even if it was, leading Lucette away from the Warding Orbs would put him in danger as well.


    High risk, with low odds of succeeding.


    His gaze passed over Relia and Torben ¨C then snapped back. Relia was slowly crawling towards her carriage. She looked frail and pathetic, a non-threat. But Torben...


    The man wasn''t breathing. His limbs had contorted in agony, his eyes were bulging, and flecks of spittle dotted his lips.


    Simon shoved down his confusion before it could distract him. Why? he still asked. None of the slavers should have died from just the poison. At least not in such a short time. He had carefully measured smaller dosages so that they couldn''t taste it in their broth.


    Which also had the side benefit of leaving them on the brink of death instead of killing them outright. On the slim, slim chance that they had actually agreed to turn over a new leaf and abandon their slaving ways, he would''ve given them antidotes before they expired.


    Unless ¨C unless Torben had suffered from an unusually adverse reaction to the poison. People''s bodies reacted differently to foreign substances. Identify couldn''t guarantee the same effect for everyone.


    Whoops.


    Although...this could be exactly what he needed. A grin spread across Simon''s face as renewed hope surged through him. Killing a Level 8 enemy was probably sufficient to bring him to Level 5. With Lucette breathing down his neck, avoiding death by mere inches, he waited for new system alerts to pop up and shower him in congratulations and four shiny stat points.


    They never came. He didn''t even feel the sensation of EXP flowing into his body.


    Why. Why. Why. Simon took a second to calm down, splitting his focus between dodging sword strikes and attempting to figure out why the system had stiffed him on some much-needed Experience. It...wasn''t easy. He wouldn''t manage for long.


    Thankfully, the answer came quickly. While it was just a theory, he felt confident chalking up the lack of EXP to an intrinsic function of the gods'' System ¨C a function implemented to prevent their champion from committing atrocities that were beyond the pale.


    After all, if death by poison gave Experience, then the most expedient way of leveling up would be to poison the watering well of every village he came across.


    The gods had wanted a virtuous hero. Not someone incentivized to commit mass-murder.


    Kinda screws me over in the short term, though. Did a previous champion try poisoning towns? Force the gods to add this stipulation? Simon frowned. Loophole abusers ruin everything, thought the man looking for more loopholes to abuse.


    He ducked under a swing that would have effortlessly lopped his head off. Lucette was strong ¨C far moreso than a woman of her stature should be. Her stats and Levels were heightening her physical parameters, just as they did for Simon.


    Was it time to pull out the demon arm? He hasn''t discovered any other viable options. But if he misplayed¨C


    "Why, Simon?!" Lucette took a break from screaming bloody murder at him, remembering that words existed. Not that she took a break from running him down like a heat-seeking missile. That would''ve been much too convenient. "Why did you kill Ebris and poison our crew? Was it truly because we refused to free strangers you''ve never even met before?!"


    No, he thought. I would have killed you anyway. Perhaps they would''ve set Katarina and Gerold free if he''d pressed the issue...but only to appease him. After he left, they''d have returned to kidnapping people and treating them as objects to be sold.


    It was a simple calculus. Setting the captives free would save just these two people in front of him. Killing the slavers saved everyone they would''ve gone on to harm in the future.


    Of course, things would have been different if they''d legitimately agreed to abandon their lifestyle and atone...but Simon hadn''t really viewed that as a possible outcome. They weren''t going to change.


    People rarely did.


    "SPEAK, YOU CRAVEN BETRAYER!" Lucette lunged directly for his heart. Simon dodged sideways, wincing as her strike drew a line of blood across his chest. "EBRIS OFFERED YOU SUCCOR, AND YOU CUT HIS THROAT LIKE NOTHING!"


    Needed to thin the herd. Might have been a problem if all four of you rushed me at once before the poison fully kicked in. And out of everyone here...


    Ebris had lowered his guard when talking. He was also sitting close to Simon at the time ¨C within throat-slicing range. Lastly, he was the highest-Level combatant here.


    Taking him out early was the obvious choice.


    Granted, if Simon had known of Lucette''s healing magic, he would''ve prioritized her instead. You always went for the healer first.


    Lucette being offended over his murder of Ebris was rich, though. They had suggested doing the same thing to a helpless Gerold literally one day prior. The irony hadn''t registered in her mind whatsoever.


    It''s like I never left Earth. Hypocrisy was a universal constant, it seemed.


    "Am I not worth words to you?" Tears welled in the corners of Lucette''s eyes. It didn''t hinder her combat efficacy. "We picked you off the road when you could scarcely walk. Fed you. Saved your life. You were...could have been family. Did all of that mean nothing?"


    "It meant everything."


    Lucette froze. Simon struck forward, seizing the moment, but she casually parried him away. Her skillful blade and stupefied expression made for an almost comedic contrast.


    "Without you, I would be dead," the transmigrator continued, his voice filling with sincere gratitude. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."


    It wasn''t a ruse intended to mislead her. Nor was it a taunt, gloating about how he''d fooled them.


    It was merely the truth.


    For reasons that Simon didn''t quite understand, Lucette''s anger re-ignited with roaring fervor, more passionate and unsettling than ever before. She let out a noise of demented rage, the sound echoing up from the abyss of her soul.


    This time she was the one to back up, putting distance between them. Perhaps that change in behavior should have tipped him off to something being wrong.


    By the time he''d stopped being relieved and started being suspicious, it was too late. The woman had extended an arm towards him. Her hand pulsed with a fiery red aura, mana gathering in the center of her palm, the air heating up like a sauna.


    She spoke in an ice-cold whisper as the blazing fury in her eyes became reality.


    "Scorch."

 Chapter 7.2

    It soared faster than Relia''s arrows. Simon raised his sword to block it, but he would''ve had more luck deflecting water with a knife. He could do nothing as the spellcast flames slammed into his chest.


    If he hadn''t been nearly possessed by a demon less than a week ago, he would''ve called this the most painful occurrence of his life. But even with that adjusted frame of reference...it still hurt. It was as if he''d been sunburnt red as a tomato, pressed a curling iron against his torso, then stuck himself in an oven for good measure.


    Skin charred and flesh burnt as the aroma of cooked flesh permeated the crisp noontime air.


    HP: 46 / 90


    Numbers representing his body''s health came to him automatically. The spell had erased close to half his HP in one go.


    With sobering clarity, Simon concluded that if he didn''t do something very soon, he would fall to the next attack.


    My demonic arm...wouldn''t help much here. It was only effective at close range, and Lucette was keeping her distance now, liable to retreat if he moved forward.


    The woman was already charging up another fireball, her eyes dancing with glee as she envisioned him burning like a lit pyre. Apparently, she wished to inflict the agonizing end of immolation on him. Getting stabbed in the heart would''ve been too much of a mercy.


    Need a good ranged option. Don''t have one. He clenched his teeth. Unlike Lucette. She just *had* to know magic, be a mage.


    Why her, and not the rest of us?


    Casting spells didn''t seem to be a matter of academic memorization. There were no complicated hand gestures or long incantations. Lucette seemed to be summoning the latent energy within herself by...concentrating? Visualizing the spell she wanted to create?


    Which implied that magic was ¨C at least on some level ¨C instinctual. A natural talent. Maybe practice still made perfect, but without an inborn aptitude for spellcasting, your efforts at learning it would amount to little more than wasted time. Simon doubted that the other slavers wouldn''t have also learned lifesaving healing magic if it was as simple as ''think really hard''.


    You either had the knack, or you didn''t.


    Simon didn''t. Not once since entering Valtia had he been capable of conjuring even tiny embers, let alone devastating fireballs. Considering his sabotaged transmigration, and how he''d inherited the powers of a weakling nobody, he should have expected as much. It was looking increasingly certain that he would never be a mage.


    And not for a lack of trying. He''d spent a good chunk of his earlier wandering attempting to cast spells, at one point mimicking the exact stance, intonation, and mental focus that Lucette now exhibited. But while it was clearly working for her, he had only¨C


    Oh.


    A flash of insight illuminated his thoughts, and Simon realized where he''d misstepped.


    Lucette appeared to cast spells by drawing from a wellspring of mana inside her body. She would then shape that mana into whatever form she chose, such as bestowing it with curative properties, or heating it into a scorching flame.


    The process had to have limitations ¨C everything did ¨C but overall, it seemed fairly freeform. Spells could be helpful or harmful depending on the intent of the user. Magic was primarily a system of impartial creation.


    Human magic, at any rate.


    Simon had already encountered a different way.


    Oppressive, dominating, and pitiless. An aura of malice and arrogance, bereft of mercy. Imposing desires upon the world. Browbeating reality into submission. Bending the very nature of things to your will.


    That was the magic he''d felt from Kirkelas the Conqueror. The magic of Demons.


    And Simon had inherited their power as well.


    He took off running, sprinting towards Lucette as fast as he could. His right arm Shapeshifted, skin covering with silver-black scales and fingernails transforming into five wicked talons.


    The Fell-Touched human raised his demonic limb and pointed it directly at his prey.


    Who cared if he didn''t have a natural aptitude for magic? Nothing about transmigration was natural. The gods'' system was designed to take random people and turn them into champions by assimilating power from others.


    If Kirkelas had been capable of magic, which he obviously was...then Simon could use it now too.


    He just needed to use it correctly. The transmigrator had tried casting spells before...but in the human way. As if magic was a negotiation with reality, where the user offered up a portion of their MP in exchange for affecting the world around them.


    This time, Simon didn''t negotiate. He didn''t search inwards for mana or visualize a spell.


    He only made his intent known.


    Kill the slaver.


    It wasn''t even a question. He had already subsumed the Conqueror''s power. Demonic magic was his to wield as he saw fit.


    Kill the sinner.


    Let her crimes be punished. The penalty was death.


    Kill Lucette.


    So he decreed, as judge, jury, and executioner.


    The air crackled with a sense of inversion. As Simon ran forward, a pocket of pitch-black energy began coalescing in front of his right arm''s palm. It was as dark as the starry void of the night sky, like entropy given form, seeming to annihilate the space it occupied. Demonic mana had answered his call.


    A grin no less demonic split across his face.


    He pushed the spell to grow stronger. Denser. If this was to carry out his will, then it needed to be better than an insignificant pocket of energy. He demanded that it strengthen further, ordering it to become a black hole large enough to devour the world.


    It didn''t go that far, of course. Simon only had 50 MP work with. But it was the intent that mattered ¨C and the magic responded in kind, the spell doubling in size until his mana reserves had been fully depleted.


    Demonic Skill Gained: Channel Essence!


    Lucette was no longer charging her second fireball. She had frozen the moment his arm shifted. The woman just stood there and watched, astonishment mixing with dread as demonic mana took shape before her widening eyes.


    "Goodbye."


    His voice echoed as his will was made manifest. Simon pushed, and the spell launched forward, erasing the air that it touched. Pitch-black energy rushed at a woman of pitch-black sins.


    And it struck true.


    The final effect was more subdued than Simon had hoped. Rather than his spell blasting through her torso, or simply snuffing the life out of her in an instant, it merely knocked Lucette to the ground. She was pale and gasping for air, yet very much alive.


    A result of his lacking mana, no doubt. He had ordered his spell to Kill, but when empowered by just two digits worth of MP, this was the best it could muster ¨C knocking the target prone and sapping her strength.


    Lucette landed beside Ebris. She let out a strangled cry as she caught sight of his half-decapitated corpse, head lolling to the side like a partially opened blood dispenser, redness oozing out from the gaping hole in his neck. The man''s gaze was vacant, yet the lingering tightness of his face told a story of shock, betrayal, and despair.


    She turned away from him in a panic...then happened to catch sight of Torben, his eyes bulging, foam and spittle dotting his mouth, limbs twisted into a pretzel of torment. Unsurprisingly, that also proved to be mildly distracting.


    Every moment she spent in her own personal horror exhibition was a moment where Simon just kept running forward. His enhanced Dexterity let him close the gap in record time ¨C by his standards, anyway. Although his demonic spell hadn''t outright killed Lucette, it''d still bought him several seconds of time.


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    In a fight like this, that was virtually an eternity.


    The slaver wasted even more precious time by staring at his Shapeshifted arm. She seemed transfixed, as if he was a nightmare given flesh. "Can''t be real," the woman whispered, her body trembling with unmitigated fear. "No no no no no NO!"


    Lucette''s whispers rose to a scream. While his demonic magic had left her enervated, she still managed to thrust her longsword forward in a wild, frantic motion. Were she calm, composed, and in full control of her faculties, it would likely have skewered his heart.


    Instead, it stabbed him through the upper thigh. He didn''t let the wound slow his advance.


    "NO! PLEA¨C"


    Simon reached down and grasped her shoulder with his demonic hand. Razor-sharp talons pierced human flesh, clutching her in an unyielding grip. That was when Lucette realized, far too late, that she should''ve just perished to his Kill spell, letting it instantly reduce her to withered husk.


    That would have been a kinder end.


    "Fell Harvest."


    Five seconds.


    The Skill drained Lucette for five excruciating seconds. Simon could see agony plain on her face as the slaver''s mana ¨C her life ¨C flowed out from her body and into his arm.


    Inversely, he had never felt more energized and full of power. Her loss was his gain. More mana suffused his body with each passing second. It was like the joy of progress, yet combined with a cloying sense of nourishment, as if Lucette''s essence was a refreshing drink guzzled through a straw.


    The feeling sickened him. He almost stopped the Harvest as pity flared within.


    Then he remembered Lucette''s crimes, and his pity died a stillborn death in its cradle. After fifteen years of condemning innocent people to a lifetime of servitude and suffering...she could handle five seconds.


    At no point did the slaver struggle. Fell Harvest appeared to immobilize and lock her in place. She could only watch in terror as her life dwindled like a candle burnt down to its last few drops of wax.


    "Mon...ster."


    On the fifth second, the light completely vanished from Lucette''s eyes. Her last word had been one final bit of hypocrisy.


    Fitting, he supposed.


    Alert: Lucette Drenoka has been slain!


    Your Level and Stats have increased!


    Level: 4 ¡ú 5


    Strength: 17 ¡ú 18


    Dexterity: 15 ¡ú16


    Intelligence: 5 ¡ú 7


    A life has been Harvested!


    1 stat point added to Unspent Points!


    Simon immediately dismissed the system notifications. He didn''t have time to think about stat increases, new Skills, or his inevitable freakout over having killed people for the first time. Need to find¨C


    "You''re a Demon."


    His heart sank as he turned to face a familiar voice.


    Relia was standing upright, her bow pointed at him. The woman''s balance looked steady. There was a slight twitch to her hands, but otherwise, little indication remained that she''d recently been on death''s door.


    Took too long to kill Lucette, Simon groused. Although he''d stolen all the antidotes from Ebris and Lucette''s carriage as a precaution, he''d also known from the beginning that Relia''s carriage might have more. It hadn''t changed his plans. The poison should have rendered all of them helpless.


    Except that Lucette had turned out to have healing magic. By neutralizing her own poison and fighting Simon, she''d given Relia time to crawl over to the second carriage and chug some antidotes.


    Honestly, Relia still shouldn''t have been capable of that much movement, but maybe she''d inherently resisted the poison. Like the opposite of Torben''s abnormally adverse reaction. Without access to detailed medical records ¨C or a targeted Identify, which he couldn''t re-use on the slavers ¨C it was impossible to predict exactly how foreign substances would affect people''s bodies.


    Too many unknown variables. As usual, no plan survived contact with the enemy.


    Which was why being able to improvise was just as important.


    "I''m a Demon?" Simon raised his right arm, five blood-soaked talons glimmering in the sunlight. "What gave you that impression?"


    Relia visibly suppressed a shudder. Her hands quivered¨C not from poison, but fear.


    It immediately answered an all-important question: why hadn''t she fired her bow yet? She had also spoken to him while he wasn''t looking, alerting him to her presence. That was a prime opportunity for a sneak attack, and she''d thrown it away.


    Because she''s scared out of her mind. Kirkelas hadn''t been exaggerating about how Demons terrified the native humans of Valtia. Even if she ambushed me...Relia still doesn''t think she could win.


    Funnily enough, Simon didn''t think he could win, either. The slaver was in a very advantageous position. She was uninjured, higher-Level, at a safe distance, and had her bow at the ready.


    In contrast, Simon was heavily wounded from Lucette''s fireball and thigh-stab. He probably couldn''t close the gap before she riddled him with arrows. His MP had been replenished with Fell Harvest, so he could try for another Kill spell, but Relia might just dodge it. Lucette had mostly been hit due to being blindsided by his demonic arm''s reveal.


    The more he thought of it, the less a direct confrontation appealed to him. If he could instead make her surrender, utilize his arm''s intimidation factor to¨C


    "You killed them." Relia''s voice was low. "Ebris. Lucette. Torben."


    Her tone hardened like permafrost. "Ardyn."


    The slaver''s posture straightened ¨C and Simon knew he''d lost her. That glare in her eyes wasn''t one that could be intimidated or reasoned with. She fully expected to die alongside her comrades, her life willingly sacrificed just to make him bleed.


    "Quit pretending to be honorable," he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "It doesn''t suit you."


    Relia''s grip on her bow tightened.


    Guess we''re doing this, then. Simon prepared to sprint and dodge. Even if he got hit, Transmigrator''s Body would patch him up later. Just had to protect his vitals and¨C


    *Thunk.*


    The noise caught them both off-guard. The sight was even more surprising. Simon skidded to a halt, truly baffled for the first time that day.


    It was with a look of distant, muted shock that Relia reached up to touch the crossbow bolt protruding from inside her forehead.


    "What...why..." Blood leaked down her face. "Can''t...it..." Her words slurred, and her body dropped.


    "...Ardyn..."


    She spoke no more.


    Simon snapped out of it. His head whipped to the side, towards the direction that the bolt had come from.


    There, within the second carriage, was Katarina Cartier. The former prisoner stood free and unbound, holding a now-empty crossbow in her hands ¨C pilfered from the bandits'' treasure trove.


    She didn''t even seem to notice him as she jumped out of the carriage and stalked forward. With unhurried steps, the woman strode up to Relia''s soon-to-be-corpse. Katarina''s eyes shone like two pools of bottomless hatred, long-buried emotions rising to the forefront, mingling with the fresh, raw injustice of the past few days.


    A bestial snarl exploded from her lungs as she kicked her captor in the face.


    "Couldn''t leave us alone, could you?" She kicked again. "COULDN''T JUST LEAVE US ALONE!" Kick. "ALWAYS LIKE THIS! WE TRY GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE, AND YOU TYPES ARE STILL THERE!" Kick. There was a crunch this time. "SO CLOSE TO THE END, SANCTUARY IN VIEW, AND YOU HAD THE GALL TO OFFER FOOD, LOWER OUR GUARD!" She spat on the corpse. Then kicked it for good measure. "TWO-FACED MONSTER¨C"


    Upon shouting the phrase ''two-faced monster'', Katarina froze. Her gaze slowly drifted towards Simon, as if suddenly remembering that he existed.


    He waved his demon arm in greeting. "Hi."


    Katarina made a sound like a dying raccoon.

 Chapter 8.1

    It was with herculean effort that Simon barely managed to stop himself from bursting out laughing. "You want to try redoing that first impression?" he suggested.


    His comment was meant to be lighthearted, something to help break the ice, but Katarina seemed to interpret it differently. The woman paled severely, as if she''d felt footsteps treading on her grave.


    Her eyes immediately snapped down to the crossbow held in her hands. It was empty, its one bolt having been delivered straight into Relia''s cranium. Simon witnessed a hurried, frantic analysis take place within Katarina''s gaze ¨C could she load another bolt and fire in time before he retaliated?


    Prudence won out over valor. She tossed the crossbow onto the ground, sank to her knees, and bowed, adopting a position of deference and respect.


    "You have my thanks for freeing me, Lord Demon." Katarina''s tone sounded impressively even-keeled. If Simon hadn''t been closely paying attention, he might''ve missed the slight tremor in her voice indicating how utterly freaked out she was. "I couldn''t have slaughtered these wretched slavers on my own. Your timely assistance has breathed new life into my...um...life."


    She bowed even deeper. "As a reward befitting this generosity, I pledge loyalty to you, Lord Demon. Your commands are mine to follow. I merely ask that you extend your generous nature to my father as well. If his good health is guaranteed, then I shall be your loyal servant for as long as you desire."


    Several seconds went by without a response. Beads of sweat started running down Katarina''s forehead. Her posture twitched with nervous energy as the silence stretched on uncomfortably.


    It only ended when Simon let out a note of faint disgust. "Ugh. Can you not?"


    Katarina blinked. "Not...what?"


    "Not this." He gestured vaguely at her. "The whole life-debt thing is creeping me out. I didn''t save you so I could get an indentured servant."


    If Simon one day rose to a position of prominence, then he would naturally gain subordinates who obeyed his orders. That was a given. He couldn''t change the world without like-minded people willing to share in his vision of the future.


    But this situation felt different ¨C especially when Katarina had been freed from captivity less than a minute ago. Everything about it was making his skin crawl. The circumstances, the groveling, her blatant fear, offering lifelong servitude...it all just made him feel grimy.


    "How about you try for a third first impression. It can''t go worse than the second." Simon shook his head. "Gotta admit, wasn''t expecting the sycophant routine."


    "...Sycophant?"


    Something in Katarina''s facade cracked as the weight of the past few days seemed to press down on her. "Apologies, my Lord. If I comported myself like a sycophant, it was only to ensure the safety of me and my father. After being kidnapped by slavers, beaten and starved, forgive me for not confronting you with my head held high! It was so uncouth of me to ingratiate myself with you, bowing and scraping so that I wouldn''t have my soul devoured by a poisoning, treasonous, lunatic DEMON!"


    Simon raised an eyebrow.


    "...Uh...my Lord?"


    He snorted with mirth. "Name''s Simon. Don''t call me a Lord before I''ve officially won the title."


    The woman''s eyes narrowed by a fraction. "You...may call me Katarina. Or Kat, if you prefer."


    "Nice to meet you, Katarina." Simon paused. He knew he should let the poor woman off easy, but the temptation to pick her brain was too strong. "Okay, in all seriousness, did you really think I would''ve taken you as a servant even if I was the type to do that? I just saw you shoot your former ''master'' in the head. You would''ve betrayed me in two weeks, max."


    She sighed, then stood up, abandoning her deferential kneeling pose. "Can you blame me for delivering violence to those who seek to steal my freedom?"


    "Oh, no. I respect the hustle. Betray away. I''m simply curious about how arrogant and shortsighted you think I am."


    Subtle embarrassment crept into Katarina''s face. "It was a necessity of the moment. I thought that after slaying your former compatriots, you would come for me and my father next."


    Simon briefly considered explaining that he was a Fell-Touched human, not a Demon. She might regard him with less apprehension if he told her the circumstances behind his Shapeshifted arm.


    But would she believe that story? He wasn''t sure that Fell-Touched humans existed outside of him. Without the gods'' system to help integrate Kirkelas'' demonic mana into his body, he likely would''ve ended that encounter corrupted, possessed, or worse. Claiming that he was a special case may cause him to look even more suspicious than before.


    And most of all...information related to his unique Traits and Skills was priceless. Every detail that Simon revealed was another knot that could be tied into the noose that one day hung him. Why should he divulge his innermost secrets to a stranger who could go around blabbing them to the entirety of Springwater Village?


    Best to keep his origins vague and let Katarina draw her own conclusions. It was a strategy that had worked well-enough so far.


    "For the record, I''ve no intention of hurting you or your father." Throwing her a bone, Simon pointed at the ropes that had once restrained her, now laying in a heap on the carriage floor. "Nice work. Figured I''d have to untie you myself. How did you escape?"


    "A hidden dagger and extensive preparation." Her expression darkened. She kicked Relia''s corpse without looking at it, as if the response was automatic. "Do not mistake my father and I for hapless dullards simply because these reprobates took advantage of our desperation. This is not a scenario that was altogether unexpected. We have trained to escape the confines of a tied rope."


    She rubbed her eyes, bringing attention to the deep, dark circles underneath them. "Feels cruel that the first time we put it into practice would be after leaving Caelryn City. Hoped things would be better out here."


    Simon felt a passing moment of confusion. Hadn''t Lucette described Caelryn City as a great place to live? At least compared to an impoverished, backwater village like Springwater, which Katarina and Gerold appeared to be heading towards.


    Then he remembered who Lucette had actually turned out to be. The city probably was great...for someone of her profession. When she''d spent hours regaling him with cheerful tales of carousing in Caelryn, she''d left out exactly how her spending money was earned.


    He added her stories to the growing pile of once-fond memories that were now tainted and bitter.


    "If it helps," Simon muttered, "they fooled me too. Didn''t know they were slavers until I saw you and your father."


    Katarina''s eyes widened. "You''re...not lying? Then why did they treat you as kin?"


    "I stole a name from a dead friend of theirs."


    She froze, at a loss for words. It was a facial expression that Simon was well-acquainted with. He would say a truthful statement, somehow derail the train of discussion, and others would look at him funny. Useful when attempting to intimidate or disconcert people; less so when it happened unintentionally during casual conversation.


    Mercifully, Katarina had a social backup plan. "Before I forget," she began, gracefully pivoting from his comment. "Setting aside my earlier theatrics ¨C that should and will be forgotten ¨C my gratitude was genuine. While I could have escaped the slavers'' ropes, I couldn''t have killed the four of them and rescued my father without your assistance. Just fleeing on my own would''ve been a tall order."


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    A guarded, fragile smile inched upwards. "Even if it was only to further goals that I haven''t yet puzzled out...thank you for helping us. Truly."


    "You''re welcome." Simon allowed himself a smile as well, a kernel of warmth blooming in his chest. "Speaking of your father ¨C shouldn''t you go tend to him? He needs food, water, and medicine. There should be some in Relia''s carriage."


    Katarina did a surprised double-take, glancing first at Gerold, then back to Simon. "I am free to do so?"


    "Please don''t start a repeat of your second first impression. I saved you guys because it was the right thing to do. That''s all."


    She clearly didn''t believe him. That didn''t stop her from rushing over to Gerold, slicing his bindings apart with swift, practiced motions, then dashing into Relia''s carriage in search of supplies.


    Simon left them to it. He walked out of view, knowing that his presence would merely make the two uncomfortable. Should I have Shapeshifted my demonic arm back to normal? he mused. Think it was putting Katarina on edge. She stared at it more than a dozen times during our talk.


    In retrospect, he may have been wrong when he''d said she would betray him within two weeks if forced into servitude. She would''ve wanted to, absolutely, but...when she''d looked at his arm, there was a fear there that hadn''t been present when glaring at the slavers. As if the slavers were a known ¨C albeit hated ¨C quantity, while Demons were something enigmatic and terrible.


    Lucette and Relia had done the same. They''d all gazed at him like he was a horror movie monster come to life. Or in Valtian terms, a monstrosity of legend that had sprang straight from the pages.


    Yeah. It was probably for the best that Katarina and Gerold never see him again. The two of them would patch themselves up, hijack Relia''s carriage, then drive off into the sunset before the scary Demon changed his mind about desiring servants. If they ever thought of him in the future, it would be with relief over having narrowly escaped his clutches.


    He was fine with that. The point of helping people wasn''t to be put on a pedestal and lauded with accolades. Kat''s words of gratitude were already more of a reward than he''d anticipated.


    Well, from her, at any rate. Ebris and Lucette had rewarded him plenty. Taking ownership of their carriage would grant him access to rations, money, weapons, transportation, and a variety of miscellaneous resources and items. Considering that he''d been starving and destitute just one week prior, this was better than he ever could''ve dreamed of.


    All for the low, low price of four murders.


    Simon slowly turned around in a circle. His gaze passed over the bodies of Lucette, Ebris, Relia, and Torben. He closely examined each corpse, refusing to hide from the results of his own actions. These people were dead ¨C because he had decided they should be.


    It wasn''t a choice he regretted, but two of these slavers had saved his life. He wouldn''t be standing here without them. Even if their kindness was built on a lie, it''d still meant something.


    And now that the battle was over...he was free. Free to process everything that had transpired without it being a fatal distraction. Free to experience guilt at having taken lives for the first time. Free to mourn the people who he''d once thought Ebris and Lucette were.


    Before he set off for Springwater Village, this was the time to let his emotions run wild.


    ...


    Aaaaany minute now.


    ...


    Hmm.


    Strange.


    He hadn''t thought he''d go to pieces or anything, but he''d definitely expected more than what he felt right now. The strongest emotion he could muster was a detached sense of disappointment. As if he wished things could''ve turned out differently, even though ¨C realistically speaking ¨C he knew that the slavers'' fates had been sealed the instant he saw Katarina and Gerold tied up in the back of their carriage.


    Still. A sliver of guilt wouldn''t have been out of the question. It was so jarringly absent that he was starting to worry about himself.


    Would he have felt guilty if he''d killed...for example, random bystanders? ''Yes'' was the immediate answer that came from within. Even if it''d happened by accident, innocent deaths would have torn him apart inside.


    But that''s just it, really. Ebris and Lucette weren''t innocent. Far from it. I can *easily* convince myself that they deserved to be killed.


    I can''t convince myself that they deserve to be mourned.


    That was that.


    With a shrug, Simon moved on to other matters. He wasn''t going to force grief or guilt where none existed. That just sounded like vain self-flagellation.


    There was a more pressing issue to attend to ¨C something he hadn''t noticed until mentally reviewing his battles with the slavers. Concentrating, Simon directed his focus inward, bringing up his Character Sheet. He aimed his thoughts at one section in particular, willing it to listen.


    Heroic Valor, he began, addressing the Skill directly. Why didn''t you send me bonus EXP for rescuing Katarina and Gerold?


    It was a longshot. The system hadn''t given any indication that Skills were sentient. Simon was mostly hoping that a random alert or notification would answer his question.


    Yet to his surprise, he started to feel a pulse of emotion resonating from deep inside his mind. The sensation felt similar to when Kirkelas'' magic had influenced him in Caelryn Cave. Except that this was like a friendly neighbor, not a foreign trespasser...and instead of influencing him, it was merely making its presence known.


    Heroic Valor was attempting to communicate with him.


    It took Simon a solid half-minute to comprehend what the Skill was trying to say. Rather than words, it chose to converse solely through pulses of emotion ¨C despite understanding the English language. The distinction seemed purposeful, as if Heroic Valor believed emotions were a purer, more honest form of communication.


    Eventually, though, he managed to parse what it was telling him. And what it told him...made zero sense.


    [No bonus EXP.]


    Simon frowned. Again, why? I''d say that taking down slavers and saving a father-daughter duo counts as a sufficiently heroic deed.


    [You murdered people. Betrayed them. Harvested a soul.]


    Morally, yes.


    [Dude.]


    This won''t be the last time I have to kill someone. There''s no shortage of heartless bastards out there who won''t listen to logic or empathy. Are you telling me that if I come across a true blue tyrant, I should just shake their hand, let bygones be bygones, and politely ask them to stop being evil?


    [...No.]


    Plus, my betrayal was the only way to save Katarina and Gerold ¨C the only way to save everyone who would''ve been enslaved by Lucette''s crew for years and years after. I couldn''t have defeated four higher-Level combatants in a fair fight. Are you telling me to always be honest, even if it causes good people to suffer?


    [No.]


    Furthermore, using Fell Harvest isn''t an inherently evil act. Skills are tools, and no tool is evil; merely the manner in which it is employed. Harvesting enemies will make me stronger, which will give me more leverage to work with, which will open up new opportunities to save people. Think of it as an investment in future heroism.


    [...Fine.]


    Alert: Heroic Valor''s bonus has (begrudgingly) activated!


    For backstabbing and soul-harvesting your way to the moral high ground, you have received bonus EXP!


    Your Level has increased!


    Level: 5 ¡ú 6


    4 stat points added to Unspent Points! Allocate them at will!