Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 17.1, 17.2, 17.3

Katarina mellowed out after Simon explained how Classes and Class Advancements worked. Hearing that he'd started as a 'Fledgling' made her feel less like she was being directly insulted by his magic.

When that had been resolved, she slowly went through the first part of her Character Sheet, reading each line aloud. What she found was...interesting.

Katarina
Class: Urchin
Attributes: N/A
Level: 11
HP: 90 / 90
MP: 60 / 60
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 15
Vitality: 9
Intelligence: 6
Unspent Points: 24

What stuck out most to Simon was her Level. The last time he'd Identified her, Katarina was Level 5. Accepting his Boon had instantly increased her Level to 11 – and given her six Levels' worth of Unspent Stat Points.

Which lined up with one of the rules outlined in Grant Boon's Description.

-The Boon-bearer's power will grow in accordance with the Boon-granter's, albeit at a reduced rate. It would be uncouth for a subordinate to exceed their superior.

Since being transmigrated to Valtia, Simon had risen from Level 1 to Level 13, an increase of twelve total Levels. That EXP had been retroactively applied to Katarina. When measured against her jump of six total Levels, it seemed that she would gain one Level for every two that he did. Her rate of growth was exactly half of his.

While they were close in Level now, that small gap would widen to the size of a canyon as time went on. Even if she fought more enemies and gained more EXP than him, it wouldn't matter.

-All system-based Experience accumulated by the Boon-bearer will be equally shared with the Boon-granter.

Because Simon would receive kickbacks, benefiting equally from her progress. She could never hope to match his strength in the long run.

Katarina didn't seem to mind when he explained that to her. She'd hardly expected his Demon magic to elevate her above him. This was still an incredible boost in power from what she'd been like before.

Although Simon inwardly noted that her base stats looked somewhat...low? He didn't quite remember what his numbers had been like early on, but Katarina's un-enhanced Level 5 stats felt similar to his at Level 1. Could just be a quirk of the gods' system, greasing the wheels by bestowing their champion with a bit of extra power.

As she scrolled down her Character Sheet – eliciting ooohs and aaahs as she got the hang of her virtual screen – Katarina moved on to the Skills section. Currently, she possessed Rank 1 of Deception, Insight, Acrobatics, Sleight of Hand, and Dagger Proficiency. She also had Rank 2 of Stealth, Thievery, and Crossbow Proficiency.

It was an impressive variety of useful Skills. When Simon told her as much, Katarina grinned in response. "Still feels like your Demon magic is saying I'm only good as a two-bit street crook," she said, "but at least it recognizes hard work."

In contrast to her Skills, Katarina's Attributes were listed simply as N/A. Wasn't too surprising, considering that Simon's sole Attributes were Transmigrator and Fell-Shrouded, two exceptionally unique characteristics. The system had only marked down details that were absolutely worth noting.

Aside from that, the main differences between their respective Character Sheets was how Katarina lacked his Traits and Demonic Skills. That meant no Inventory, Transmigrator's Body, Fell Harvest, Channel Essence, or any of the others. Her Boon's power was restricted wholly to stats and Levels – she wouldn't be shrugging off a severed spine with a good night's sleep.

"Oh!" Katarina flinched. "More words just appeared in the air. Separate from the rest."

"That's a system notification. They're like messages that alert you to changes in your Character Sheet."

"Convenient." She read the notification carefully. "It's reminding me that I'm...eligible for a Class Advancement?"

Huh, really? Simon had only received his first Class Advancement at Level 13. Either Katarina naturally got hers faster – or as a Boon-bearer, her Advancements were linked to his, meaning she would be eligible whenever he reached a new milestone.

He instructed her to focus on her Urchin Class and imagine it being improved. The system guided her instincts, bringing up a list of four potential Classes for her to choose from.

Thief, Assassin, Conwoman, and Archer.

"You know," Katarina muttered, "I was half-joking when I said that your Demon magic was insulting me. Now I'm serious. Don't rightfully appreciate how it keeps focusing on the...less savory aspects of myself."

Well, from what I can surmise, Class Advancements are chosen based on an objective analysis of your life experiences – and I probably shouldn't say that. "If it helps," Simon added, "I got Thief and Conman as options too."

"Those were deserved. Which means mine are deserved. Ugh."

She scowled at the seemingly empty air. "Thief, fine. Can't deny that. Conwoman...fine. But Assassin? Merely because I shot a slaver from behind?"

It was an excellent assassination. One shot, one kill. Relia never saw it coming.

Probably shouldn't say that either.

"Not like I want to be who I am," Katarina groused. "Some people take pride in 'the life'. Even if offered a mansion full of gold, they'd continue to lie and cheat and steal, just for the thrill of it. Utter lunatics. I've always hoped for better than this."

"You'll have better," Simon promised. "Everyone will. That's my mission statement – why I'm dedicated to killing Helmund and reforming the Severed Isles."

"I know, I know." She sighed. "So be it. Which Advancement do you think I should choose?"

Archer was what she likely wished to hear. Compared to Thief, Conwoman, or Assassin, it was a downright respectable profession.

"Whatever will bolster our chances of success the most," Simon promptly replied. "A person is defined by their actions, not their toolset. Don't go chasing after some vague concept of respectability. Only results matter."

At that, Katarina laughed. "Thanks for the honesty." Her expression brightened. "I'll decide on my Class Advancement later. There's other things to consider first."

They talked for some time. Simon answered Katarina's questions in full, reiterating concepts until she had a solid grasp of her Character Sheet. Then, when they'd finished looking over everything they could...

It was finally time for the fun part.

"So I can take these Unspent Points and make myself stronger? Any way I want?"

They'd stopped the carriage and temporarily made camp. Katarina had also spent several minutes running, jumping, and performing small-scale acrobatics – it would give her a baseline comparison for after she boosted her stats.

"Yes," Simon answered. "Unspent Points are yours to allocate as you please. Be careful, though, as your choices can't be taken back. I recommend–"

"10 points to Dexterity!" she crowed, her eyes glimmering with anticipation.

"That's...an option." He hesitated, not wanting to deflate her building enthusiasm. "However, I must point out that – speaking from experience – your other stats are all of vital importance."

Katarina wiggled her hand in an 'eeeh' motion. "Are they? More Strength would be nice, but most people aren't so hardy that I'll need it. Long as I have enough force to slit a throat or puncture a heart, what I have now will get the job done."

Unless we fight another regenerating, colossal, monstrously-strong Fell Beast. "What about Vitality?"

"Perhaps a little, as a precaution, but higher Dexterity should keep me safe. Won't get hurt if I don't get hit."

Everyone gets hit eventually. "Intelligence?"

She grimaced. "Why bother? My affinity with mana is low, and I'm a dismal failure at magic."

I used to be too. Now I'm casting spells with ease.

Simon had two reasons for not voicing his concerns. First, he wasn't here to make Katarina's decisions for her. If she wanted to pump up Dexterity at the detriment of other stats, then godspeed – literally.

And second, for all he knew, she might be right. Simon had received zero guidance on how to maximize the system to his benefit. He was flying blind, allocating stats and choosing Classes in ways that may end up screwing him over months down the line. His best guesses weren't a substitute for empirical data.

Katarina would make for a useful second opinion...and a beta tester. If she stumbled onto a stat spread that turned out to be overpowered, he fully intended to copy it. Blatantly, immediately, and without compunction.

Imitation was the highest form of flattery, after all.

When Simon elected not to say anything further, Katarina interpreted it as the go-ahead to boost Dexterity by 10 points. Her eyes bulged as power flowed from the system and into her body. She was practically vibrating with pent up-energy.

In a flash, she took off running. At 25 Dexterity, the woman was already on par with record-breaking Olympians, dashing around their campsite at speeds that would've put ordinary humans to shame.

That's how fast I am now as well, Simon mused. Strange thought. If he returned to Earth now with his Strength of 22 and Dexterity of 26, he would be lauded as a generational prodigy, crushing sporting events in dominant fashion.

Yet despite that understanding, he didn't feel any different. Becoming a veritable superhuman hadn't changed who he was as a person. His goals and drives remained the same.

Stats, Skills, Classes, Traits, Demonic mana – all were simply tools to be used in the name of progress.

Simon was jolted from his rumination when Katarina came to an abrupt halt. She stopped by their carriage, arms crossed, her back facing him.

"Everything alright?" he called out, approaching her. There was no answer. She still hadn't turned towards him.

Just as Simon was starting to get legitimately worried, Katarina spoke.

"Years ago, I once saw a warrior with moderate affinity for mana." Her voice was bereft of emotion. "A pickpocket in Caelryn targeted him, forgetting that you never steal from someone with sharp eyes and swift feet. As soon as the warrior noticed that his pouch had been pilfered, he crossed the street in mere seconds, running down the pickpocket like they were a helpless child. At the time, I remember marveling at how fast he was. Yet..."

She chuckled. "I think I'm faster, now. And if what you've said is true, this isn't the end of it. We'll keep getting stronger. Swifter. Better. By the Ancient's blood, I haven't even spent all my stat points yet."

Katarina turned around. Her face was a mask of stone – to hide the tears threatening to spill forth. "Is this...is this how they always get to feel? So powerful and free?"

Simon was at a loss for what to say. While he understood that this was a big moment for her, he couldn't match the depth of emotion she was feeling right now, and he didn't think he could fake it if he tried.

He wouldn't feel truly free until Valtia's entire society had been reshaped from the ground-up.

Thankfully, Katarina let the moment pass. "Apologies. Lost control." She took in a deep, shuddering breath, visibly relaxing. "Question – the 'MP' on my Character Sheet refers to my body's latent stores of mana, correct?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

"Curious." She looked at text that only she could see. "The number didn't go down. It's still at 60 out of 60, even after I ran at full sprint."

Simon caught her implication. "Do warriors in Valtia use mana to boost their physical parameters?"

Katarina nodded. "Otherwise, they'd be no stronger than a common footpad. High affinity for mana is imperative to both mages and warriors. Those who favor the blade will learn to efficiently draw upon their mana, consuming only dregs to empower feats of incredible prowess. Even so, some amount is needed."

"That's not how it works for me – or you. Our stat increases are permanent bodily enhancements. No mana required. We can save our MP for spellcasting instead."

"Ridiculous." She said it with excited glee. "Is that why you can heal without using mana? I was shocked the first time I saw you recover from debilitating injuries after a brief slumber." Her eyes sparkled. "Can I do that now?"

His mouth twitched with mirth. "Sorry, that's a Simon exclusive."

It was hard not to laugh at Katarina's huff of disappointment. In the span of half a day, she'd gone from feeling wary and cautious over this bizarre demonic Boon – to barreling full speed ahead on the stats-and-Levels express.

"How did you learn to cast spells?" she asked him. "Could never manage anything more than parlor tricks, and I don't even have memory loss bogging me down."

"My Character Sheet did the heavy lifting." Simon paused. "You know parlor tricks?"

Katarina put on a wry smirk. She lifted her right hand, then closed every finger except for her pointer finger. The woman sank into deep concentration, muscles tightening as the seconds crawled by.

Then – as if flicking a cigarette lighter – a minuscule, wavering flame appeared at the edge of her fingertip.

"Picked it up from observing mages," she said. "This is the full extent of my capacity for magic. Just enough to give a younger me false hope. If I was a true spellcaster, I could have largened this into a roaring fireball, but..."

She exhaled, letting the flame vanish. Her body slumped with exhaustion.

"Before you ask, practicing won't help. I've tried. Your affinity for mana is decided at birth. Would be like drawing water from an inch-deep puddle. Effort is all well and good, yet none of that matters when–"

Katarina froze. Her pupils rapidly zipped left and right.

"There's another system notification." She spoke slowly, voice trembling in disbelief. "It says that...my pursuit of magic has been rewarded. A new possible Class Advancement titled 'Arcane Rogue' is now available."

Both of them fell quiet. To Simon, this was confirmation that Advancements could be added to the selection list after-the-fact.

To Katarina, it was her worldview being rocked for the umpteenth time. "This is absurd." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "My Character Sheet states that Arcane Rogue would transmit knowledge of spellcasting into my mind. As if I'd been studying magic for years. But that can't – no, wait, that's how it worked for the other Advancements. Like 'Archer' offering to make me better with a bow. Doesn't need to make sense."

Her gaze snapped towards Simon. "If I allocated stat points to Intelligence, thereby increasing my MP, would that also ameliorate my low affinity with mana? When combined with Arcane Rogue, could I become a reasonable mage overnight?"

"And all you had to do in exchange was shake my hand." Simon spread his arms wide. "Not a bad deal, I think."

He meant it as a playful comment. That wasn't Katarina's interpretation. She lowered her head, then raised it again, something imperceptible shifting beneath her countenance.

"You have my gratitude, Simon. This Character Sheet represents unfettered possibility. Most people would have killed to obtain it – yet you essentially gave it away."

A warm smile inched up her face. "I won't betray this faith you've put in me."

Guilt pierced Simon's heart like a needle. With growing trepidation, he realized why Katarina had started feeling so self-assured these past few hours.

Does she not know? I thought it was obvious, implied. She thinks that...

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Simon spoke up. He clarified another rule of the Boon; one that both of them had apparently glossed over.

-If a Boon is rescinded, the Boon-bearer shall lose whatever power they have accrued that is directly related to the Boon.

Her Character Sheet's power wasn't intrinsic – it was conditional, directly tied to Simon's beneficence. With barely a thought, he could reduce her back to a Level 5 face in the crowd. Her capacity for independence was subservient to his whims.

They may not have formed a Contract, but how was this any less binding?

Simon felt tempted to offer a Contract that would make the Boon permanent. He wanted their alliance to be based on genuine sincerity, rather than pure give-and-take. This current state of affairs was too transactional.

The temptation passed quickly. Grant Boon limited him to three Boons in total. If he made Kat's permanent, and she left, that would be just two more Boons he could give to potential future allies.

And while he couldn't imagine a scenario now where she suddenly betrayed him, then ran off holding the bag...it wasn't impossible. Things changed. Allegiances were malleable.

He shouldn't bet the farm on the first person to strike up something resembling a friendship with him.

Still. Didn't seem right. Perhaps he could–

"Stop worrying so much."

Katarina sent him an exasperated sigh. "You're overthinking this. Neither of us are the type to take advantage of people. Not without undue cause, at least. As long as we treat each other decently, I don't foresee any major issues."

"What about after I've killed Helmund?" Simon pointed out. "It would be very reasonable for you to decide that you've had enough by then. If you leave, transferring the Boon to someone else may be necessary."

"Even if this power only lasts until we've cured my father, I can accept that." A grin slipped onto her face. "Just warn me ahead of time if you're going to rescind the Boon. Disappointment, I can handle. Nasty surprises are far crueler."

She's telling the truth.

It was an unexpected realization. Katarina had nearly been brought to tears by her newfound strength – yet she would willingly surrender it if their goals diverged. Following her own path was more important than clinging to power.

Simon nodded, grinning in return. He'd definitely chosen the right person to grant his first Boon to.

--

After some gentle – yet insistent – urging on Simon's part, Katarina reluctantly invested six Points into Vitality, bringing hers up to 15. While he still wanted her to choose for herself, this was insurance for when she inevitably made a mistake. Sky-high Dexterity would amount to nothing if she perished from a single misjudged motion.

Although he didn't quite know how to answer when she asked what Vitality would even do for her. Simon's increased HP had let him survive gruesome injuries inflicted by the Ravenous Wanderer, yet that was partially due to Transmigrator's Body keeping him going. Katarina didn't have Traits. He wasn't sure how a bootleg version of the gods' stat system would affect a native Valtian.

Katarina also decided to hold the rest of her Unspent Points in reserve, declining to choose a Class Advancement. She wanted a few days to think things over.

Simon disagreed. Leaving points unspent could result in tragedy. If their group was ambushed, she wouldn't have time to empower herself further before the attack began.

Still, he didn't press the issue. Katarina would only function as a proper beta tester if she made her own decisions – and mistakes.

When they returned to their carriage and set out again, Katarina adjusted the Navigation Crystal to take them to a Waystation located roughly two days out. "Waystations utilize long-distance teleportation to allow travel between the Severed Isles," she explained. "You saw the map, and how our territories are split across the ocean. We cannot journey from Springwater to Caelryn solely by land."

"What about by boat?"

"Duke Helmund has forbade the construction of seafaring vessels. I haven't a clue as to why."

Another detail to file away and examine later after acquiring more information. "Alright. Then this Waystation will teleport us directly to Caelryn City?"

"Not directly, but close. We'll need to pay a toll." She glanced around the carriage. "With our ill-gotten gains, that shouldn't be a hindrance – unlike when my father and I passed through."

Simon leaned forward. "How many Waystations are there?" A bit of fervor leaked into his voice. "Are they all connected? Can we use them to teleport anywhere in the Severed Isles?" Cutting down on travel time would make his plans much easier to fulfill.

"The exact number eludes me, but there's at least two to three Waystations on each Isle. All connected. The toll price is determined by your intended destination. If you have the money for it, you can go anywhere."

"Out of curiosity, why did you and Gerold pick this area to teleport to?"

"Was the cheapest. Couldn't afford anywhere else." Her face morphed into a complicated expression. "Perhaps that should've been the first sign that we were making a mistake. You get what you pay for, and people aren't often stockpiling coin to journey to Springwater Village."

Sensing that Katarina was trending towards a bout of self-recrimination, Simon smoothly changed topics to something more lighthearted. "So – Duke Helmund. How do we kill him?"

She sputtered. "Isn't that your job to figure out?

"Yes, but you know more about the man than me. How powerful is he, and in what ways? You described him before as being an existence akin to a god. Have you seen him fight in-person?"

"Few have," she said, her lips pursed. "Enemies of Helmund don't live for long after he sets his sight on them."

"Is it possible that his supposed strength is inflated by hearsay? Could be propaganda to ensure that people don't challenge him."

Katarina took a second to give the theory thought.

"Unlikely," she concluded. "I may not have met the Duke, but I have seen his son, the 'esteemed' Lord Piers Helmund. That vile pissant visits Caelryn City on occasion. He is arrogant, odious, insufferable...and the most powerful warrior I've ever laid eyes upon."

A shiver passed through her. "You know how children sometimes purposely break their toys, because they're too young to understand that not everything can be fixed? That's what Piers Helmund is like with people. If he enjoys your company, he might invite you to a round of drinks, take you adventuring, shower you with praise. But the second you draw his ire...or even if just grows bored of you..."

She lowered her gaze. "To him, we are playthings, meant to be used and discarded. And why wouldn't we be? The only man powerful enough to stop him is his father, who openly approves of Piers 'indulging in merriment'."

Simon hesitated as a troubling thought came to him. "How big is the Helmund family? Who's there aside from the Duke and Piers?"

"It's just them. Maybe the Duke once had a consort – Piers spawned from somewhere – but she is either long gone or long dead."

"Good. And how old is Piers?"

"Older than you or I, yet less than thirty years of age." She stared at him. "Why ask?"

"Was worried that there'd be a whole extended family of superpowered maniacs to deal with. Two, though?" Simon nodded. "I can handle two. Piers will even serve as a valuable point of reference. If I can slay the son, then the father shouldn't be too far out of reach."

He adopted an innocent smile. "And if Piers was younger than us – a teenager, as opposed to a manchild – I would've had reservations about straight-up killing him. It's encouraging to know that I won't be burdened with a guilty conscience."

Surprise flared in Katarina's gaze, but only for an instant. "That makes sense. Albeit in a morbid, twisted fashion."

"When you're planning to assassinate people, everything sounds morbid. On that note – what else can you tell me about the nobility of the Severed Isles? How strong are they? After I've increased my Level, it could be worthwhile to pay some of them a visit. Like a trial run for Piers and the Duke."

She paused. "Simon, much as I am loath to defend those who would spit on me without a second thought...not everyone with high status is deserving of such violent retribution."

Sin Scry will be the judge of that. "I'll pick my targets carefully," he assured, gesturing for her to continue. "Still need info. How many major noble families are there?"

"Ten? I think?" She frowned. "The number changes according to Duke Helmund's whims. Perhaps the nobles themselves are privy to secrets that we know not, but from my perspective, families are elevated and demoted seemingly at random."

"Are any of them as strong as Helmund? Or at least comparable?"

"Not remotely. Even the most powerful among them would fall to Piers in combat – let alone his father."

Simon considered that. "So Piers, at less than thirty years old, is already stronger than the patriarch and matriarch of every noble family in the Severed Isles."

"He possesses an extraordinary affinity for mana," Katarina grumbled. "Probably endured harsh training as well, but so have others, and they are all woefully beneath him. It is as people say: Sweat and effort is laudable, yet talent and birthright are prosperous."

The Valtian adage made Simon's skin crawl. He couldn't even deny it, as the only reason he was in a position to challenge Helmund and Piers was due to gifts from a higher power.

Have to change things. Someday, I'll turn that proverb into a lie.

"Is lineage important for mana affinity?" he inquired. "If two people with high affinity have a child, does that child have a better chance of being as strong as them?"

"Yes. From what I've heard, the noble families are strict about co-mingling amongst each other to maintain purity of blood."

Hopefully not too strict. Simon had seen pictures of Earth noble families that practiced inbreeding. While similar deficiencies might make it easier to overthrow the Valtian nobility, the notion was...off-putting.

"In fact," Katarina said, "there's been some gossip as to who Piers' mother could be. Helmund wouldn't have produced an heir with any less but the best 'breeding stock' in the nation."

Disgust snaked across her face. "He's been associated with the disappearance of several noble women over the decades. The rumors are unfounded...yet given Helmund's character, the idea is all too believable."

Simon stared at her in muted astonishment. "Good grief. Is there a single person in the Severed Isles who doesn't hate Helmund?"

"Piers."

"Besides him. You know, If I had more time, I bet I could incite a revolution within the nobility. I doubt the Duke could handle an army of high-affinity soldiers coming for his neck. Helmund may be extremely powerful, but he isn't outright invincible."

He couldn't be. The gods of Good wouldn't have sent their champion on an impossible mission – if only because transmigrating was a costly endeavor, and their efforts would be better-spent elsewhere. One way or another, Helmund had to be mortal.

Katarina shook her head. "Duke Helmund grants wealth and prestige to the major and minor noble families. They won't upset the status quo. Especially when it would result in their deaths."

Something about that gave Simon pause. "What do you mean?"

The woman averted her eyes. "Happened decades ago. Before I was born." She looked through the carriage window, gazing out into the distance. "There was an invasion from Ashora, the western nation beyond the sea. It's old history now, but everyone who speaks of it is in agreement: without Duke Helmund on the front lines, the Severed Isles would have succumbed to Demons."

"...Demons?"

"Ashora is ruled by them. Its noble families are comprised entirely of Demons, with an all-powerful Queen sitting at the top. They wrested control of the nation some centuries prior. These days, to be a human in Ashora is to be enslaved by pitiless abominations."

She raised both eyebrows, sending him a sideways glance. "There's a reason we are told to fear your kind."

Simon grimaced. "Right."

Which meant that if he – an apparent Demon – started making waves, parallels would be drawn. No one wanted their country to become the next Ashora. He would be rejected by the nobility and commonfolk alike, viewed as a conspirator seeking to undermine them from within.

And even if he succeeded in taking control without inspiring the people to rebel against him, that would just open the Severed Isles to invasion from foreign nations. Duke Helmund's overwhelming power was like a Warding barrier shielding the Isles. He'd made himself too big to fail.

A replacement was necessary. However, it would take time for Simon to raise his Level up to...whatever Helmund's was. If he killed the Duke too early, without being strong enough to supplant his role, then millions would suffer.

If he killed him too late, everyone died regardless.

The transmigrator closed his eyes. He sat back, breathed deep, and calmed his nerves.

One thing at a time.

--

Reaching the Waystation entailed two days of blessed tedium. As it turned out, when you weren't waylaid by starvation, slavers, Sealed Demons, or Fell Beasts...traveling wasn't so bad. Simon appreciated the opportunity to rest and decompress.

Though without the carriage's Navigation Crystal on auto-pilot, he wasn't sure he could've found the Waystation on his own, even if he was pointed in the right direction. The Severed Isles were an empty wasteland mostly absent of landmarks. Apart from faint marks on the ground indicating that caravans sometimes traversed these pathways, everything looked the same to him.

The Waystation itself was a fairly large building surrounded by stone walls and Warding Orbs. Unlike Springwater, its defensive perimeter seemed up-to-date and cared for. A thick metal gate barred the entrance, guarded by two soldiers who appeared bored out of their minds.

"So how does this work?" Simon asked, as their carriage rolled to a leisurely stop outside. The Navigation Crystal was advanced enough to self-park. "We pay the toll, gain access inside, then our caravan gets teleported by..."

"A specialized Artifact. One of Victoria's make, as I've heard."

Simon tapped his forehead.

"Oh." Katarina showed a sheepish grin as she was reminded of his 'amnesia'. "Victoria is a–"

She was interrupted by the Waystation's front gate swinging open. Simon peered curiously out their carriage window, watching as the two soldiers drew closer.

Both men were equipped with swords and rough leather armor. The one in front was a middle-aged man, striding forth with an arrogant swagger and a piercing glint in his eyes. The one lagging behind wasn't much older than 20, his steps more unsteady, lacking the confidence of his senior.

Simon turned towards Katarina. "Is this normal?"

"Maybe." Her tone was uncertain. "For now, let's exit the carriage and make our greetings." She snorted with amusement. "As two prospective Con Artists, neither of us should have any trouble pretending to be merchants."

Katarina took point. They'd agreed beforehand that in matters of day-to-day socialization, she should handle the talking. Less chance that way of Simon accidentally revealing the gaps in his knowledge.

Yet all that planning was rendered irrelevant when the older guard got a look at her face.

"I remember you," he said, with mild surprise. "The redhead pair. A girl and her father."

The guard eyed Simon, sneering. "Minus the father. Found a merchant fool to hitch yourself to, did you? Left the old man behind to rot? Don't blame you. Better to strike now before your youth withers and fades."

Simon blinked. Fascinating conversation starter. I wonder, how much unwanted attention would we attract from assaulting a Helmund-backed soldier?

He glanced over at Katarina, intending to follow her lead – and discovered that she didn't seem upset. If anything, the woman was unfazed, like she'd heard much worse in the past.

"We're heading to Caelryn City," she remarked. "What's the toll price?"

A frown flickered across the older guard's face. As if he'd anticipated more of a response from her. Craved it, even.

Just from that, Simon could already predict how the rest of their talk would play out. He'd met people like this before.

They all read from the same script.

"Prices have changed," the guard lied. "Orders from the Duke himself." He graced them with a conciliatory smile – when inside, he sought to punish them for an imagined slight. "It's out of my hands."

The younger soldier winced. "Sir, you said you wouldn't–"

"Not now, boy. I'm carrying out my duties." He made a show of examining their carriage. "In truth, the Duke's toll has raised exorbitantly. You won't have sufficient funds to access the Waystation at all...unless we come to an understanding, that is."

In that instant, Simon connected multiple thoughts at once.

The transmigrator turned to address Katarina. He affected an aura of helplessness, like he was an inexperienced merchant hopelessly out of his depth. "I'll, I'll check the carriage. See what we have to spare."

She didn't question him as he rushed off. That was another thing they'd established beforehand. If Simon ever did something completely unexpected, it was probably because he had an idea – but not the time to explain himself.

Best to just roll with it.

Katarina patiently kept the soldiers busy as Simon entered the carriage, then looked through the window, focusing his gaze on each guard in turn. He wasn't actually searching for anything; he'd simply needed a place where he could be safe and undisturbed for the next twenty-ish seconds.

Identify. Sin Scry.

Identify. Sin Scry.

The trances faded, and the decision was made.

Summoning a pouch of coins from Inventory, Simon exited the carriage. He walked forward with a morose, dejected air about him.

"Didn't sell much in Springwater," he muttered, unable to look the guard in his eyes. "This is...this is what I've got. All of it."

Simon didn't need to meet the guard's gaze to tell what he was thinking – greed and triumph were plain in the man's voice. "Smart lad," he purred. "Give it over, and we'll see if it'll satisfy the Duke."

A poor, cowering merchant reached his arm out.

Crack.

And turned the motion into a haymaker to the jaw.

Simon fell upon his target with a flurry of blows. There was no finesse to it, only momentum empowered by Strength. The guard was an Estimated Level 13, and he could've put up a strong fight if he'd been prepared – but he wasn't, so he couldn't.

No one truly has a plan after they've been punched in the face.

Still, this clearly wasn't his first rodeo. At one point, the man gathered his senses for long enough to unsheathe his sword and plunge it into Simon's gut. Steel speared through flesh, the man bellowing with furious glee as he assumed his victory had been won.

The transmigrator responded by landing a crushing jab. Pain flashed within his body, but he easily brushed it aside.

A rudimentary impalement was like a slap on the wrist compared to Kirkelas' mana or the Ravenous Wanderer's acid.

Soon enough, the older guard was sprawled out on the ground, moaning in subdued agony. Several of his bones were broken, and much of his skin was starting to purple and bruise.

Close by, Katarina was holding the younger guard hostage. She'd pressed a knife against his neck. He was frozen in fear, having offered no resistance whatsoever.

Simon gave her a grateful nod for the assist – although he'd known that the second soldier was unlikely to intervene. Identify had described him as a Level 7 neophyte. Underqualified for his position, and too timid to stand up to people in general, especially his overbearing boss.

"You're welcome," Katarina grumbled. "I trust that there's a reason for this? We could've just paid the toll and continued onward. I know you don't really care about being cheated."

No, not really. Money was immaterial. He could get more by looting slavers.

"This won't take long." Simon pointed at the younger guard. "Keep him restrained, just in case."

That one was a superfluous extra. Sin Scry hadn't divulged any repulsive, abhorrent secrets that were deserving of scorn.

The older guard, however...

Simon knelt down, pressing his weight onto the injured man's chest, pinning him to the ground. A piteous gurgle floated up through the air.

"Irving Stroud," the transmigrator began. "Forty-nine years old. Waystation guard for two decades. No family. No friends, either. You ever thought about why that is?"

The guard named Irving didn't fully gasp, as he was having difficulty breathing, but the sound that choked out of his throat was a close approximation. "How do you...who are…"

"We're not focusing on me right now. You're the star of today's show, Irving."

"My money...take it...you can–"

"Didn't you listen to what the nice lady said? Money doesn't matter to me. Thing is, I'm not the only person you've tried to rob."

Simon tilted his head. "Are you even aware of how many you've killed, Irving?"

The man flinched. "Never...hurt people."

"There's more ways to hurt than with a sword to the gut. Sure, sometimes you targeted naive merchants – those who could survive an unforeseen loss of coin. That's sketchy, yet ultimately atonable."

The transmigrator narrowed his eyes. "But they were just the tip of the iceberg. It didn't matter if people couldn't afford your predations, or if they might starve to death because you wanted to fatten your coinpurse and stroke your ego. You didn't care. You went for anyone who was weak. Anyone who annoyed you. Anyone who you thought couldn't fight back."

He pressed down harder. "Guess you thought wrong this time."

Tears welled at the corners of Irving's eyes. He presented no argument in his defense. Mostly due to the air leaving his lungs, but hey.

"Besides," Simon continued. "While your murders so far have been indirect, you were also working yourself up to killing someone directly. Was getting tired of the same ole' routine. Would've gotten a little too eager disciplining whoever defied you next."

He tapped the blade still lodged inside his stomach. "I have proof."

"Please...let me go...won't hurt people...I'm sorry...do anything..."

"Of course you'd say that after I beat you black and blue. As an apology, it seems a tad insincere."

Simon sighed. "With that said, you haven't killed anyone directly, and I can't execute you for a potential crime you never actually committed. Shame. What to do, what to do."

Making a binding Contract wasn't an option. Based on the Skill's Description, he doubted this situation would apply.

-Contracts must be willingly accepted. Any Contract signed under magical compulsion, or forced onto someone by direct threats to their person, shall be automatically voided.

That clause had been broken when Simon pummeled the guard halfway to hamburger meat.

"Hmm. If I ask you to repent, Irving, will you? Has our friendly spar shown you the error of your ways?"

Unfortunately, it hadn't. Irving was a man who venerated power and dominance. When shown an inch of mercy, he would interpret that kindness as weakness. People like him almost never changed.

But they could be taught a lesson.

With a burst of blue light, a dagger materialized into the transmigrator's palm. He reached down and seized Irving's hand, holding it with a vice grip.

Then, for just a moment, Simon hesitated. Something about what he was doing felt...off.

He immediately locked the feeling away. This much was nothing compared to what he would need to do in the future. Hesitance at this juncture was a ridiculous notion.

Someone who'd already killed without remorse didn't get to entertain that kind of self-indulgent hypocrisy.

Slicing down, Simon cut off Irving's left thumb.

The guard screamed. The transmigrator let him, idly flicking blood off his knife. He waited for Irving's pain and sense of loss to settle in.

When he'd at last finished blubbering, Simon grabbed the man's head and turned it to face him. "My friend and I are going to make use of the Waystation now. I strongly recommend that you don't go crying to your superiors about this incident. I'm sure Duke Helmund would love to hear that you've been using his name to trick people into paying higher tariffs – none of which went to him."

"Yes. Yes." Irving couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Go through. Never have to see each other again."

"Oh, we'll be seeing each other again."

A tortured moment passed by.

"What?" Irving croaked.

"I'll be back within one year," Simon intoned. "As a checkup. If you've targeted anyone since then...or if you've tattled about what happened here today...I'll know. Remember, Irving, that this was just a thumb."

His foot came crashing down, stomping the severed digit into a red, pulpy mess.

"You still have so much more to lose."

The guard would recall that threat whenever he looked at the tiny stump on his left hand. Bones and bruises healed – this was a lasting blemish that would forever remind him of the Sword of Damocles hanging above his head.

With any lesser punishment, he would've backslid to his former ways. Yet while men like Irving were often stubborn and delusional, even they couldn't ignore marks of permanence.

Simon wasn't 100% positive...but he believed that this was the amount of cruelty necessary to make him stop hurting others.

Heroic Valor remained silent as the transmigrator stood up. He dusted himself off and faced Katarina. "Told you it wouldn't take long," he said, his voice chipper. "Ready to go?"

Katarina glared at Irving as if he was a cockroach, then nodded. "Very much so." She shoved past the younger guard and stalked off towards their carriage.

Simon allowed himself a few seconds of satisfaction before following her. This had been a solid warm-up for Caelryn City. A prelude to sinners punished, monsters slain, and progress made.

Soon, it would be time to go hunting.

--

Thanks for reading!