II-3Mask

“The first layer is to avoid notice altogether. The second is to be seen, but disregarded. The third is to be seen and regarded as someone who belongs. The fourth is to be suspected—but not of your true crime. The fifth is to be exposed, but make them confused about your next step.

There is no sixth layer. The sixth layer is where you are burned and cast aside, no longer any use to the Stolen Throne.

And many of you will be burned. Many of you will be dead. Many of you will be forgotten for years and years. But in this time you will hone your Path. You sink deeper into whatever darkness you are assigned, mold to whatever face you are told to wear, and deceive even yourself if you wish to survive and ascend to the status as a true noble.

For that is the prize of this service: rulership. For the Stolen Throne can only be held by the Council of the Faceless—and that is something which must be proven.

So, beware, little rabbits. Beware. For all the world will be your enemy, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you. So shed your fur fast and quick and take your masks off the ground.

Give up your old face, and take up a new one…”

-Lecture at Aviary delivered to new trainees

II-3
Mask

“A-a-and then, i-i-it told me he w-w-wanted my f-faacccee!” The Umbral child sobbed loudly, holding onto one of the Umbral sisters. “H-e-e—” She took a ragged, wheezing breath. “He said he was going to take my face from my boooodddyyy!”

And she wasn’t alone. There were hundreds of slaves being gathered and guided in the aftermath of the battle, and all of them bore scars of one variety or another. However, a specific group of slaves were trapped in the throes of absolute terror, refusing to follow the members of the Arachnae Order—who were definitely not there—or even the Weaveress Jump Magi trying to get them to safety. 

The reason behind their refusal: They wanted to know if the Skintaker was still out there in the woods. And they would not go unless they were absolutely protected the entire time, every step of the way.

“I saw its eyes… it glowed in the darkness behind the skin… Its face was a mask of death! Death!”

“It ripped the slavers apart! Taunting us with their blood! I—I still taste the foulness in my mouth, oh—oh, Great One, I can still feel the hotness of the viscera soaking my arm.”

An automaton wept softly, their electronic voice breaking down to crackles. “One shudders to imagine the lusts and desires of such a beast. Of what darkness lurks behind those pale eyes…”

Far above them, Shiv stood at the edge of a titanic mushroom cap as he clutched his head with both hands. More wails of terror came from the slaves, and that earned them even more assurances from the Umbral Sisters that the Skintaker had been slain and dealt with and would never be seen again.

“Godsdammit,” Shiv muttered, feeling slightly worse than terrible at all the trauma he just caused.

“Yeah,” was all Adam managed, looking over the edge with an equally uneasy look on his face. Uva pinched the bridge of her nose, unable to look at either of the men.

“Say the thing, Adam,” Shiv muttered. “Say the thing.”

“What thing?” Adam asked.

“‘You’re a godsdamned bastard, Shiv,’” Shiv said. He wasn’t as good at doing Adam’s voice as Adam was at doing his.

“I… no, I don’t think I can this time. I bloody encouraged you to do this. I thought—It was a good idea. It was! I wasn’t wrong to suggest this. You said the slavers broke. They were too terrified to fight back. You practically got ten levels in Intimidation from this encounter alone!”

“Yes, and some of that was from a child,” Uva said, her voice flat. “A child who will likely need many, many sessions with a Psychomancer to truly heal from this experience.” She eyed Shiv. “What possessed you to say those things?”

“I was trying to scare the slavers for more levels. I’ll… I’ll make it clearer next time. Oh, I finally managed to perfectly extract skin off a body.”

Uva blinked. “You did? I remember you complaining about how you didn’t get how the Sculptor did it.”

“Yeah, I was trying to do too much at once. There are just a few parts you need to move and alter, and then the body practically handles itself. Biology is like that in a lot of ways.”

“Interesting,” Uva said. “Very disturbing but…” She rubbed his arm. “It seems to make you happy. So. Good.”

Shiv managed a smile despite hearing the child starting to hyperventilate from below. “Oh, I also heard how you put the cave biter to sleep. Real quick too.”

The Umbral Psychomancer offered the slightest of smiles. “Its body was large, but its mind was simple. It had a bit of Magical Resistance, but getting through took little effort on my part. After that… well, it was a matter of shifting frustration into weariness. I also took hold of its eye stalk and used it to burn some people. That was cathartic.”

“I wish I could’ve seen that.”

Uva pressed her lips together. “Take off your helmet and mask then.” Shiv did that briefly. He got a memory of a massive dangling eye releasing streams of fiery mana into fleeing slavers, breaking their formations, while lighting-tipped arrows struck down others. Shiv promptly got a few other memories too, but those more of a private nature.

“Have I told you how glad I am you’re a Psychomancer?” he asked.

“You have told me many things,” Uva said, holding her head high proudly. “That is among them.”

Shiv smirked. And looked at the carnage they left behind. Who would have thought an ambush comprised of six Umbrals and two surfacers would leave over a hundred slavers dead and almost six hundred slaves rescued. The only way things could have gone better is if they were more precise and had more time to prepare. Or if they had more support.

“This was pretty magnificently planned, Young Lord,” Shiv said, feeling a bit awkward at complimenting Adam. The sentiment seemed shared as Adam just managed a stiff nod before he changed his mind and shook his head.

“No. Still too many died. I—I should have been more aggressive with you. In fact, I should have helped you reposition with my arrows. I didn’t think of that at the time—”

“Yeah, but—” 

“There is no but. People are dead. People are dead because I didn’t perform to the optimal standards.” Adam gritted his teeth. “There is no excuse for any failure. Even if the success seems greater.”

Shiv studied Adam, and realized just how much pressure the Young Lord placed on himself. “Did the academy teach you to be this rigorous?”

“No. I just… I can hear them die. I can sense their hearts stop—their last words…” Adam swallowed. “I was close to them. But still too slow. Too far. Too damned passive.” His expression hardened. “It won’t happen next time. I won’t let it. I won’t let this be Blackedge.”

“We won’t,” Shiv corrected.

The Young Lord regarded Shiv and begrudgingly nodded. “Yes. I must admit, Omenborn, you are… adequate at following instructions.”

Shiv frowned at Adam. “Adequate? How should I have been better? Should I have praised your name every time you called me?”

“It is customary for a soldier to offer due respect to their superior.”

“But I’m the Master Pathbearer here.”

“Lesson one, Shiv. Lesson one. Shut up.”

Uva snorted. Shiv laughed. Even Adam managed a slight smile. The Umbral Psychomancer let out a breath. “You have both done something noble here today. I shouldn’t be surprised, but… I will thank you on the Composer and the Order’s behalf.”

“Unnecessary,” Adam said, holding his bow high and grinning. “I feel that I have yet to properly pay out my debt to her for this work of art. Adam paused. “Shiv. Give the rapier, too. I am finished with fear.”

“Fear?” Shiv asked.

Adam nodded. “I—the reason why I didn’t ask for it before despite… despite what it offers is because I was scared. I was terrified when I held the blade because I remember her coming at me, the rapier slashing against my armor over and over.” Adam grimaced. “She battered me for the pleasure of hearing me cry out. If I didn’t have my armor… I still see her in the edge of the blade. Still.”

Shiv blinked. “I didn’t know that. I—do you want the mask instead?”

“No,” Adam said. “I prefer the blade by far, and deception is not of my nature. I just need to—”

“You should see a Psychomancer. That can help.” Both Adam and Shiv looked at Uva as she finished speaking. She rolled her eyes. “One specializing in healing trauma, not dealing it.”

Adam shook his head. “No. I must… I should do this alone. For myself. For my—” He was about to say pride, but then turned, glared at Valor who was just staring at him. “Godsdamn you, skull.”

“I said nothing,” Valor replied, though Shiv could hear a grin in the Legendary Pathbearer’s voice.

“Your presence says enough,” Adam spat. “I’ll go see a bloody Psychomancer later. Never mention this to me again.”

“Are you talking to them or me?” Shiv asked. “Because… I’m going to make fun of you for this. And everything else. At some point.”

“You’re a godsdamned bastard, Shiv.”

“There’s the line,” Shiv snorted. “Alright. Time to find a face I prefer and see which corpses I want to keep.”

Both Adam and Uva let out a mutual sigh.

“This is your fault,” Uva muttered.

Adam’s eyebrows practically shot over his forehead. “What? He was always like this! You know this better than I do! He babbles to you constantly about cooking or Biomancy and you just stare at him longingly.”

Uva narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Because he’s actually sweet, but you’re encouraging him to be some kind of war demon focused on scaring small children.”

“One of the slavers passed out,” Shiv said, trying to defend himself. “I think I scared them more.”

“And then you killed them, dear. So, they’re not really scared anymore at all, and the child will need years of therapy. Ergo, focused on scaring small children. Because your friend encouraged you to start wearing your own flayed skin.”

“I’m not his friend!” Adam spat.

Shiv thought about what Uva just said and frowned. He felt bad again. “Damn. The logic tracks.”

Adam looked at Shiv like he was simple. “No, it doesn’t! I—go rip someone’s face off and see if you can wear it, you psychopath!”

Unfortunately, Adam was a bit too loud then, and his voice reached down. Where the freed slaves were. Where a certain already traumatized child was prompted to look up while Shiv looked down. Her eyes widened. She held up a small, shaking finger. “S-S-S-S-Skintaker.”

She shrieked. The people around her looked up and shrieked. The Umbral sisters below were soon forced to take desperate measures to keep the situation under control.

Shiv went back to holding his head again. Adam adopted a look of despair. Uva pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’m—I’m just going to put them all to sleep,” Uva hissed.

“That might be best,” Shiv said, taking a few steps back away from the ledge in shame. The screaming continued. And then they turned to yawns. And then silence.

“Great job, Cherished Sister Uva,” Ikki cried from below. “Now, flood their minds with more memories of your boyfriend so they will never heal properly! WHAT WERE THE THREE OF YOU DOING ON THE LEDGE LOOKING DOWN? WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO DO SUCH A THING?”

Uva drew in a suffering breath as her Psychomancy spell broke apart. Slowly, she leaned over to Adam. “This. Is. Your. Fault.”

***

“Shiv, no, let her go, you’ll make a terrible girl,” Uva said, shaking her head.

Shiv sighed. “Yeah, I thought so too. Alright. Back in the no pile.” He chucked the dead slaver into the second mass grave—the one filled with those he intended to discard entirely. The first mass grave was technically his cloak, as Adam muttered sarcastically. A moment later, all three of them—and Valor—agreed that there was nothing actually sarcastic about the statement, and thus Shiv’s Cloak of Midnight’s Kindred was unofficially named Mass Grave One.

Mass Grave One was packed mostly with dimensionals and the good-looking slavers. Because if Shiv was going to pretend to be a piece of shit, he might as well be disguised as a polished piece of shit. Tragically, the pretty slavers were running thin, and Shiv still hadn’t found the perfect one…

Cloak’s getting really heavy, too. Even for me. I’m starting to sink into the soil. I’ll need to offload some of these bodies back in the city. Maybe I can sell them to Dven or something.”

“Just choose one of them,” Adam cried. “By the Auroral Council, what are we doing?”

“We’re finding someone that I can actually mimic,” Shiv snapped back. “Now, Young Lord, since you don’t want to be sorting through the bodies because your nice-smelling boy hands might be contaminated by all these corpses—some of which you have made, maybe find something else to do instead of badgering me?”

“I cannot believe—” Adam let out a loud growl of frustration. “Valor. Valor, please just tell him to pick a body. And tell him this corpse-defiling is undignified and beneath a Pathbearer.”

The skull looked at Shiv for a moment. “I hid inside the rectal cavity of a large ogress for three days and three nights to assassinate a rival Master once.”

Shiv froze, a body dangling from his hands. “What?”

“Shiv, focus,” Uva sighed. She shot a look at Valor from the corner of her eyes, but was otherwise too respectful of the Great Valor Thann to voice anything close to disgust.

Adam had no such compunctions. “You what?”

“Three days. I thought of many things while I was in there. I understood that sometimes… One must do the distasteful to achieve what they truly desire. But being able to do the distasteful at times is freedom in of itself. And so it stopped being so disgusting for me.”

“I don’t know, Valor, it still sounds kind of gross,” Shiv muttered, as he shook his head at a headless body. “Hey, Adam, you know I was going for faces, so why did you shoot so many of them in the head?”

“I’ll deal with your madness later,” Adam snarled at Shiv. “Valor. What in the gods possessed you to tell us this?”

The skull bobbed as if slightly offended. “I just think you’re being judgmental. Stealing the face of a slaver to infiltrate and liberate many is a noble sacrifice on his part.”

“How about this one, Uva?” Shiv asked, holding a new option.

The Psychomancer frowned after staring at the corpse for a while. “Where are his teeth?”

“Don’t know, ask Adam.” Shiv grumbled.

“No,” Uva declared. “Go through the rest. Be thorough. I think there was one that looked like he wasn’t carrying some kind of disease of the face.”

“Got it, Sister Uva,” Shiv joked.

Adam stared flatly at Valor through the entire conversation. 

The skull didn’t respond immediately. “I think… it is heartwarming how love can bloom. And how people from different worlds can understand each other.”

“I cannot believe you,” the Young Lord said, shaking his head. “I cannot believe—”

“Wait! Shiv! That one!” Uva said, pointing.

“This one?” Shiv asked, propping up the corpse.

Adam was about to let loose a torrent of complaints when he found himself stunned by the face. “Broken Moon, that one does look pretty good.”

“You got him in the throat too.” Shiv grinned. Shaking the body as if it was a small doll. “Nothing wrong with his face at all.” The Deathless’s smile dimmed as he looked down. “But, uh, I think he has more venereal diseases than all the other slavers put together. Hope those don’t carry over.”

“It says semblance,” Uva said. “Not hijack body. I think you’re fine. I hope so. The mask best pray to the Composer you are fine. I will accept nothing otherwise.”

“Gods, she’s so hot,” Shiv muttered under his breath.

Adam fought the urge to gag. The Young Lord looked at the chosen slaver. They were soft of skin, blonde of hair, and delicate of features. If not for the Adam’s Apple and the jaw, Adam would have claimed this one was a woman. “Well, you did it, Shiv. You found a body that… I’m starting to feel bad for killing this one.”

“He’s still a slaver,” Uva said, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes, but why, considering he had a face like that?”

Uva narrowed her eyes at the slaver, and then smiled as she looked at Shiv. “Hm. People have varying preferences. Some like the soft and supple. Some prefer those with a bit more strength and vigor.”

Adam closed his eyes. “Shiv. Take the damn slaver’s face before I turn my bow on myself.”

Shiv stared down at the slaver’s face for a second. Once more, the notification appeared.

Kill target and take his face to claim his semblance and steal a skill.

Claim target’s semblance?

Shiv acknowledged the request and a change took place. The slaver’s face combusted at the same time Shiv’s mask ignited. He cursed and pulled off his helmet. Adam’s eyes widened and Uva cursed—blasting Shiv in the face with a spray of Cryomancy. The Deathless reeled. The flames spread across both his and the slaver’s bodies.

“Shiv!” Uva cried, eyes wide with worry. She shaped another Cryomancy spell, but he held out a hand, halting her.

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” Shiv said, sounding surprised himself. “Actually, I can’t feel anything.” The slaver dissolved into embers and ashes. Embers and ashes that swirled around Shiv and started reassembling around him, mote by mote.

Uva bit her lip in worry but held herself in check. Adam took a step back, and then another, as if fearful the Deathless might explode. Valor did the opposite: he drifted closer as Shiv reformed—but ultimately, not as himself. Shiv stood a perfect replica of the slaver he had just incinerated, changed seemingly in height, mass, and appearance.

Uva’s eyes flashed briefly—and so did Valor’s. Both of them shared a look.

“Your Path has changed too and your skills… I can see most of them with my Analyze Skill,” Uva breathed.

“Not his, though,” Valor said. “The dead slaver’s. Shiv seems to have taken more than the poor fool’s face—he’s taken a slice of his soul as well.”

Shiv called upon his status from the system and found himself surprised. His own sheet came up first, but beneath it was another one, bearing another name and another Path…

Name: Tanner “Shiv” Lowe [True]

Age: 18

Race: Human

Path: 

Deathless

Feats [1/1]:

He Who Rises From Ash Eternal (Unique) - Allows the Pathbearer to quickly learn new Skills and advance existing Skills through repeated deaths.

Skills:

Cooking 18 (Common) > 23

Knife Proficiency 29 (Common)

Grappling Proficiency 40 (Common)

Stealth 21 (Common)

Marksmanship 11 (Common)

Baking 9 (Common)

Intimidation 18 (Common)

Striking Proficiency 21 (Common) 

Barter 10 (Common)

Alchemy 2 (Common)

Engineering 1 (Common)
Lance Proficiency 1 (Common)

Pyromancy 6 (Advanced)

Spear Proficiency 10 (Advanced) 

Parry 32 (Advanced)

Biomancy 45 (Advanced)

Disease Resistance 8 (Advanced)
Awareness 10 (Advanced)

Practical Metabiology 13 (Advanced)

Psychomancy 6 (Advanced)

Silver Tongue 4 (Adept)
Evolution: Might of Mass 71 (Adept)

Evolution: Diamond Shell 80 (Adept)
Foreshadowing 13 (Adept)

Momentum Core 65 (Master)

Vitality Drain 9 (Legendary)

Revenant 5 (Unique)

Blessings: 

Blessing Gained: Song of the Vigilant - Allows the Pathbearer to maintain absolute focus while the song is active. The song will expand out from the Pathbearer for one hundred meters and reveal all that is hidden.

Curses:

None

Name: Mark Speeirson [Perfect Semblance]

Age: 27

Race: Human (Abyssal)

Path: Guardian

Feats [0/1]:

None

Skills:

Survival 14 (Common)

Sling Proficiency 11 (Common)

Physicality 29 (Common)

Intimidation 20 (Common)

Singing 18 (Common)

Armorsmithing 7 (Common)

Toughness 42 (Advanced)

Bulwark of Iron 61 (Adept)

Blade Whirlwind 51 (Adept)

Blessings:

None

Curses:

Light-Damned - The Pathbearer burns physically, mentally, and spiritually when exposed to true sunlight on the surface.

But the system wasn’t done with its notifications yet.

Choose skill to steal

Adept Slots: (0/1)

Advanced Slots: (0/2)

Shiv blinked. He assumed Skill Thief would allow him to take some levels from the dead slaver or something. This made Shiv consider between his highest two choices. Bulwark of Iron sounded interesting, and the corpse had a shield on it, so it must’ve been something to do with that. Problem was, Shiv was already practically a walking fortress, and he didn’t want more durability, he wanted someone to break through his Toughness and kill him for more levels. That, paired with the fact that he lacked a truly Adept-Tier Weapon Skill of his own made him focus on Blade Whirlwind.

Steal Blade Whirlwind for Adept-Skill Thief?

After a moment’s hesitation, he confirmed his choice. And then a searing pain passed through Shiv’s brain. He let out a hiss as he clutched his head. “Agh, burns!”

Uva flinched. “Shiv! Take it off!”

“No, no, I’m just stealing a skill.”

“You’re what?” Adam said.

Another second later, the burning subsided, and Shiv checked his status sheets again. To his surprise, he realized that the Blade Whirlwind Skill now appeared on his own sheet as well. Memories poured into his mind, of him slashing and stabbing other boys in a dark alley, of him surviving his duels because he was more vicious, more aggressive… But these weren’t his memories, these were from the slaver—Mark Speeirson. This was the only Adept-Tier Skill they had, and it allowed them to attack in all directions around themselves when they swung their weapon, becoming as a whirlwind of blades in a tight alley…

“Well, that’s much more than I was expecting,” Shiv muttered. “I thought it was just going to give me a level or two. But no… I just stole an entire Adept-Tier Skill from the dead guy.”

“You… this is vile,” Adam said, vibrating with outrage. “The quest gave you this and the cape as a reward? Why?”

“Do you want the mask now?” Shiv asked. “Because if your answer is yes, my answer is no, and it’s too late. I’m keeping this thing.” He chuckled. “I actually got an Adept Weapon Skill now.”

“If you speak another word, I will tackle you into the corpse pit,” Adam growled.

“You mean break your shoulder on me?” Shiv replied.

“No,” Adam said, walking forward with a grin. Shiv suddenly realized that Adam was taller than  him, larger than him… Oh, right, I’m stealing the dead guy’s full appearance. The Young Lord gripped Shiv by his collar—wrapping his finger around the leather armor the slaver wore. “You seem to be smaller than you used to be.” He shoved. But Shiv didn’t move. Adam frowned. He tried again. And then tried pushing with both hands.

Shiv remained in place. Like a pillar. Except he was small, short, and blonde now.

“Why?” Adam growled. “Damn you, system, why could you let me have this? Why couldn’t you let me truly be stronger and larger for once.”

The Deathless found himself focusing on another problem. “Valor might be right. This is only a slice of the guy’s soul. Enough to fool an Analyze Skill but… I don’t remember doing any surviving. Or singing. I don’t actually have those skills. I only have Blade Whirlwind contained.”

Adam gave up trying to move Shiv, drawing in a deep breath. “So. You can only keep one Adept-Tier Skill?”

Shiv called up his Skill Thief options.

Choose skill to steal

Adept Slots: (1/1)

Blade Whirlwind 51

Advanced Slots: (0/2)

“Yep,” Shiv said. “Slot’s filled. I also can’t take any of his Advanced Skills. It seems that I can only extract one skill from one body.”

“Ah, a modified exo-mind enchantment,” Valor said with interest. “The system has favored you greatly to deliver this unto you. It allows you to bear another’s experiences along with a near perfect disguise.”

“Near perfect?” Shiv said. “It says Perfect Semblance.”

“Correct. But not absolute, no? You need Absolute Semblance to hide from someone truly. You can be perfect, but a god’s will exceeds the world, and even a Heroic Pathbearer can shake the fabric of existence.”

“So. Still have to be careful.” Shiv nodded. He tried a few more things. The first was dismissing his Perfect Semblance. To his pleasure, he could quickly dispel and call upon his new form with his thoughts. “Three seconds to change.” He then took off his mask, and his form dispelled again—and the Blade Whirlwind Skill was gone from his mind as well. “Okay. So. It’s in the mask. Thing’s pretty useful. I don’t think it can burn multiple faces at once, but it lives up to a mask born from a bunch of melted assassins.”

Adam was practically pouting by this point. So Shiv spited him further by handing the mask to Uva. “Here. Try it.”

“Really, Shiv?” Adam said.

Uva accepted the mask from Shiv with a slight smile. As she put it on, she assumed the form of the slaver in a rush of flame, and Shiv nodded. “That’s just weird,” he said, shaking his head. “How does it feel for you?”

“Like I’m still wearing a mask,” Uva said. Yet, now she had the slaver’s voice. Shiv blinked. “What?”

“You sound like the slaver.”

“You sounded like him, too.”

“Huh,” Shiv said. “Didn’t seem that way to me. I just sounded like myself.”

“Probably an effect of the mind-shield,” Uva theorized. And then quickly pulled the mask off. The Perfect Semblance broke around her in a burst of embers. “That enchantment’s giving me a headache. The mind-shield pinches my mana field something hard.”

“Ah. I probably didn’t feel it as bad because my Psychomancy’s weaker.” He took the mask back from her and studied it appreciatively. Right now, it just seemed like a bronze mask disfigured by a mana bomb. But once he put it on, it was like sliding into a new skin. “Wish I could take someone’s appearance or skills without needing to kill them. But I guess it needs to burn a person’s soul or vitality or something to do this. It lets me access their entire status too.”

“Quite potent. And fitting. You were bound for the gate, and the system desires conflict. So, it has gifted you the potential means to fan the flames of chaos.”

“Yes. Like giving a hawk the means to lurk among… well, I won’t call them pigeons.” Adam considered a metaphor. “A hawk lurking among crows.”

“Is everything a hawk or hunter metaphor with you?” Shiv asked.

Adam sneered. “Consult lesson one.”

Shiv chuckled. “Asshole. Well. This has been productive. Shame none of them could kill me.”

“Shiv,” Uva frowned.

“What? I want more Diamond Shell. Say, is the cave biter still around?”

Uva squinted at him in exasperation. “Shiv. No. Leave the poor thing alone.”

“What?”

“You’re going to see if you can fight it or ask it to eat you or something. Anything that might be fatal and dangerous.”

“I’m just curious about how it is. And I wouldn’t be against fighting a mountain-sized monster if it gives me a reason.”

“Shiv?” Uva said, starting to lose her patience.

“It—it could just sit on me?”

“And what would that do?” Adam said. “Unless its body is Tougher than yours, you’ll just end up inside it like a diamond nail.”

Shiv sighed. “Dying used to be easy and constant.”

“Aw, now you will have to toil and struggle to improve more like the rest of us,” Uva said, rubbing his back almost mockingly. Then she kissed him on the cheek and that made things feel a bit better.

“Shiv. Sometimes, being around you makes me feel like I’m having a stroke.” Adam sighed.

“Well, Adam, if you die, I promise not to steal your face and pretend to be you before stealing everything your family owns.”

Adam almost gagged. “And just because you said that, I am willing myself to be functionally immortal.” He shook his head and looked down into mass grave two and at all the bodies still lying around. “Well. I suppose you might as well flay the rest of them and leave their faces hanging from the trees or something.”

“What?” Shiv said. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? For psychological effect. They’ll send a scouting party and discover a forest of flayed corpses with skins swaying in the air. Rangers from the Kingdom of Lone Star use this technique to dissuade the orcs from raiding their lands every summer.”

“I guess,” Shiv said. “Just seems gratuitous by this point…”

“Really? This is where you draw the line? Here? After literally making armor out of your old corpses?”

“That’s just economical,” Shiv defended.

“And now I am the one who suspects she’s having a fever dream,” Uva deadpanned. “You have enough bodies, Shiv. You’re sinking into the soil.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Uva. They’re slavers.” Adam spat into mass grave two. “They were selling children. They don’t deserve good dreams.”

The Umbral Psychomancer opened her mouth to argue, and then sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Shiv. Flay five and let us return to camp. The stench is starting to cling to me, and I need to bathe.”

Shiv grunted as he looked at her. “What a coincidence. Me too.”

“Oh?” Uva feigned surprise. “How surprising. But I might know a place in these woods…”

Adam looked pained. “How are you two flirting even next to a mass grave?”

“The seeds of love can bloom even from corpses.” Valor bobbed, doing the closest thing he could to a nod.

The Young Lord just groaned. “Well. At least we have a way to keep close to the bloody gate now. Or at least one of us does…”