“It took you under a minute to blow them all away, and there’s nary a collapsed wall or caved in corridor! Even with just those two spells, you could render most threats insignificant with little risk of collateral damage. That's astounding!”

"Such is the splendor of magic,” Red replied, finally releasing her grip on Sláine and pushing her away. The woman had been too distracted to notice Red’s prolonged hold, but even then it barely registered as she approached the pile to tally up the corpses. She soon determined it was a fools errand, so impossible it was to tell where one ended and another began.

Fascinating.

“And you have command of multiple elements. Though I suppose that’s only a limitation imposed by the elven Aether System? There’s no reason that one would have to be born with a single elemental compatibility. I even didn’t know the manipulation of shadows was a viable discipline! Though… elves hate darkness, so maybe that was a simple consequence of cultural biases?"

At this point, Sláine completely shed the pretense of stoicism, instead babbling on like a child given a new toy for the holidays. The magician herself seemed content to let her ramble, taking a single step forward and slicing the air horizontally with the edge of her hand. Light claimed the bodies, bits and gore consolidating down into the crystalline reward for the pair's labors. She added them to her [ Inventory ] with the same practiced efficiency, and all that remained of the scene was the fading fog and that rancid smell lingering in the air.

“We could easily do that again; my kind is fast and sturdy, and I’m sure if I level those, ah… ‘resistance’ [ Skills ], I’d be even harder to slow down. How much of a toll does spell-craft take on you?” How does it even work? I saw you throw one of those ‘loot’ cubes at them; are you… drawing on some power from within them? Is that why they function as a form of currency here?”

Sláine looked up in time to see Red shake her head slowly. “Nah, they’re worth money because Protocols need them to hatch. Most people don’t use ‘em like that.”

"Is that a [ Class ] skill, then? Giving you those abilities?"

"Sort of. I'm a little, uh, unique."

Something about Red’s tone struck Sláine as… clipped, tense, and she noticed that the woman’s hands had balled up into fists at her side. Clearly she’d caused some manner of upset in her partner by running her mouth, though she’d little idea of its origin. Why would someone not want to share details about their [ Class ]? ...And furthermore, why would someone’s information be redacted by the System in a way that was certainly atypical?

Vividly, she remembered the way Amelia had called Red a lunatic, along with that hostility she'd directed at Yora when they’d come knocking at her door. Was there stigma there? History? What sort of treatment was Red used to in the spaces she knew nothing about?

Sláine knew how painful it was to hear others musing over the truth of one’s traumatic circumstances, and realizing her impropriety, she stood and brought her mannerisms back in line with traditional decorum. “It’s extraordinarily impressive, but I apologize for asking uncomfortably prying questions. It isn’t really any of my business.”

The mask swiveled to face her, its unsettlingly painted smile giving her little insight into what was happening beneath.

“…Isn’t It? It’s hard to work with someone when you know jack shit about what they can do — makes for a bad team environment and all that crap. Besides,” Red waved vaguely down the the hall. “You barely got any [ EXP ] for all your trouble. Don’t act like I’m some gift from the cosmos for stealing a bunch of shit from you.”

Ah, was that related to the lack of death notifications? Interesting. But still — “Why does that matter?”

Red paused. “Because sending you out into danger while knowing you wouldn’t level much from it was sort of shitty?”

“It wasn’t like there was no benefit. Besides, isn’t it only fair given I’ve gotten credit for many of the prior kills? You trapped enemies and I finished them off; it’d be silly to count that as theft, wouldn’t it?”

“’S not how it works. Combat classes get experience based on how much they participated in killing a thing according to their role. You’re a [ Berserker ], not a tank - you get class experience for hitting things, not giving it the run-around.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Oh. Well.” Sláine shrugged. “I still don’t see why that matters. We got the job done.”

Sláine had meant that to be — well, comforting, she supposed. An olive branch offered to her, letting Red know that she really didn’t care about the sorts of things others did. But just like the time she’d tried to apologize, Red tensed up instead, crossing her arms and prickling up a bit. “Aren’t you here to get stronger?”

“No, I’m here to kill things. Getting stronger is part of that, certainly… but I still prioritize tactics and efficiency over personal gain. It is deeds that matter,” Sláine said evenly, hoping to convey her sincerity with the firmness of her tone rather than the frustration she felt at having to convince someone of something so basic. “It’s results. Besides…”

Sláine looked away then, running a single hand through her hair. “It could be considered a reward for training me.”

“…Huh?”

“You were ordered to do this, and yet you have ultimately been quite patient with all of my questions and taught me very much. You should receive some recompense for that.”

“Like it or not, I’m your mentor. I’m not supposed to be taking advantage of you, even if you are strong. You’re the one who needs levels.” Red clicked her tongue. “Not me.”

“I don’t care.”

“And why not?”

“You’re not as boring as the others are!” Sláine snapped, and realizing she’d gone a bit too far, she plastered that eternally-polite smile on her face once more. She liked boring, she told herself, and it wasn’t very tasteful to gossip about one’s colleagues, even if they did insist on putting everything as dryly as possible.

Awkward silence filled the hall before Red let out a soft, coarse sigh, and she lifted her hand to her mask to adjust it slightly. “Well. Thanks. I guess. Let’s, uh… let’s go clean up, shall we?”

“Of course,” Sláine replied, polite and crisp, before swiftly striding forward and dutifully flicking her attention from hole to hole as they traversed the hall to the egg chamber. There was absolutely no guarantee she’d managed to round up all of them, and it gave her something to do other than look at Red.

Whatever secrets she kept seemed to make her feel unsuitable to teaching, and it was rather cruel to force someone to choose between their own desire for privacy and the perceived safety of an impressionable new recruit. Yora’s order had, now that she thought the matter over, really sounded more like a threat, and wouldn’t the only way to get out of it be making Sláine want to break things off herself? Amelia had offered to train her. Was that why she’d slammed the door?

Of course, just because it was likely a defense mechanism didn’t mean Sláine couldn’t find it annoying, but her thoughts still lingered on the way Red had grabbed her and tried to shield her from danger. It had been sweet, if somewhat misguided given that she’d never needed anyone else’s protection, and it made her wonder.

Lost in these musings, Red surprised Sláine by suddenly speaking up.

“My original [ Class ],” she began, a notable tentativeness in it that she quickly tried to scrape away into distanced exposition. “Was [ Masque ]. Categorically a magic user, but it was really more like a hybrid between that and the sneaky stuff all the [ Specialist ] classes do. My kit - uh, skill set - was mostly utility magic. Hiding, tricking enemies, manipulating the environment… any of my damage [ Skills ] were either single-target or were mainly used for crowd control.”

"I didn't realize someone could change their [ Class ],” Sláine carefully replied, not understanding the significance but knowing it was there.

"It's... less of a change, more of a... morphing. Specialization? It's not common. You've got to meet certain criteria."

“Is that what lets you control shadows, muffle our movements, and disappear?”

“Yeah.”

“Those sound like very helpful skills to have around.”

She’d mostly said that to fill up space, something generically supportive to give her a moment to think about the way Red had spat out the word criteria, but at her long, tired sigh and mumbled yeah, it suddenly struck Sláine how odd it would have been for someone with such team-focused abilities to be a solo. Ah, she thought, the sound seeming to reverberate through her chest. Every possible explanation was steeped in pain.

It was Sláine who broke the silence next, the sound of her voice carving out a space in that dim tunnel surprising even herself. “My entire unit died.”

She thought she heard Red stop walking behind her, but she didn’t turn to look. Perhaps she could have left it there or stopped to offer her some manner of token solidarity, some attempt to prove she understood. But she didn’t, not really. She just plodded on.

“Everyone except me. It was the Pit. It rarely encroached on our territory, so we weren’t prepared what it was like to have the entire world come out from underneath us. I know it has a presence here, so maybe you’ve encountered it before? Somehow, You Can Always Fall has never quite captured the essence of Fathomless to me, but I suppose no words really do.” Sláine thought she heard herself chuckle, but maybe that was just the sound of some part of the hive crumbling in the distance.

“Nothing other than experience can honestly convey the helpless feeling of grasping for someone about to hurtle into an impossible abyss."

“Ah…” Red quietly trailed off behind her, her footsteps picking up again. Sláine wasn’t really sure how to interpret her tone.

“I have no idea what happened to you, but your situation has forced you to share things I’m sure you never would have otherwise. I’ve no need for pity, and it’s not like this is for the purpose of bonding. It’s simply…” Sláine finally looked back at her, tone resoundingly neutral.

“A fragment for a fragment. It’s only proper, yes? Now you own something of mine.”

“I guess I do,” Red replied, and after the sort of pause left when someone is desperately scrambling for something to say, Red asked, “Do I get a flower for that, too?”

Sláine snorted, but made no move to gift her any more body parts.

>> Stop talking and go get actual work done