The next day, while Tatius fussily tended to Ranthia’s wounds—they were fine!—Ranthia explained her plans further, while Pupius’ gaze bounced around the room desperately trying to avoid her partially undressed form. …Not the stuff about Xaoc and the [Paladin] she had once been, that was private. But she finally told them about the truth of her build goals. She told them that her goal was to achieve [Mirror Spirit] and always have an escape route from danger.
The response was… not what she was expecting.
Neither man had heard of an elemental spirit skill. In fact, she learned that neither of them had heard of the prior tiers for the affinity skills either.
“The elemental affinity skill is the most basic level there is. Advancing affinity skills isn’t easy, but I can’t believe you’ve never heard of it. Affinity, authority, mastery, then spirit.” Ranthia explained.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you kid, but…” Pupius was usually all about eye contact when he spoke to someone, so it was kind of funny to watch him squirm as he fought against his instincts.
“Hold still.” Tatius admonished her while he dressed her wounds.
Ranthia sighed. That was the problem with keeping the whole ‘so yeah, funny story, I’ve died once’ thing under wraps. Neither man knew where she pulled her unusual sources of System information from. Neither had asked either. If she was lucky, they’d assume she had received it from Xaoc, which was close enough to the truth. She’d also accept that she’d learned it from the Rangers; the men knew that she’d kinda half-stalked them back in Perinthus. If she was unlucky, they were assuming that she got it from an unreliable source. Worst case, they might even assume that she was merely guessing.
She needed them to believe in her plan.
She needed them to believe in her.
Rumors got weird. A city destroyed by a volcano, except supposedly two Sentinels somehow stopped the destruction. Absurd on its face.
When rumors came that the formorians had overrun the Legions, Tatius and Pupius outright laughed. They had seen the defenses and didn’t believe them for a second.
Then rumors claimed that the formorians had been annihilated. Tatius and Pupius also found that unlikely, but it was impossible to miss that the men became… nervous. Two different sets of major news out of the eternal war seemed ominous, even if they were contradictory.
When news—multiple confirmed reports—of the legions marching through Remus broke, the trio were forced to abandon their current job. They bought passage on a ship and circumnavigated the Nostrum to avoid whatever was happening. It was nothing good.
Then the weirdest rumor yet spawned. The Night of the Flickering Moons, they called it. Some people swore the moons disappeared. Others claimed they changed color, and while accounts varied a bit about what colors they had turned… these seemed to be the majority of the rumors. Ranthia personally didn’t believe them, no matter how many men and women had claimed to see it for themselves. Ranthia, Tatius, and Pupius had been sound asleep, indoors, when the alleged night occurred.
There were even rumors that the red on the moons had been powerful moon monsters that gathered and fell to Pallos!
Ranthia loved Pallos’ gorgeous moons and was, honestly, more than a little annoyed at their disparagement. It was almost as offensive as that damn bard song she heard all too often about Perinthus’ plagues that never mentioned the Ranger [Healer] that had saved them all! Worthless minstrels.
Ranthia’s chaos-granted knowledge from—presumably—her prior life had major holes in it. She had no idea what formorians were until she learned from Tatius and Pupius. No one knew what an elf was, yet Ranthia’s knowledge insisted that they should be around and were somehow distinctive and impossible to miss. She had sickened herself on poisonous mushrooms a couple of years ago because she just knew they were edible, despite Tatius’ insistence that they were not. She had no knowledge that might have explained the alleged Night of the Flickering Moons (the rumor just refused to quit). And just last season she had faced a rough lesson because she hadn’t known that velociraptors liked to leap at their prey to attack.
Nearly five years of walking Pallos as Ranthia helped. Tatius and Pupius were fonts of wisdom that she had long since drained of basically all useful information and lessons. Life taught her more as well.
And so, her menarche was something she had, conceptually, known about. Not from her prior knowledge or anything that Tatius and Pupius had proffered, but from things she had overheard or—in rare cases—been outright asked about in Remus.
It was not something she was prepared for, when it, quite auspiciously, struck 8 days before her 13th birthday.
“Xaoc, I love you, but puberty was a mistake.”
It was a comment that promised to escape her lips often over the next few years. Never in prayers, but she was sure Xaoc heard her either way.
Not that He apologized.
Once puberty got its claws into her, Ranthia felt like she was in a never-ending growth spurt. The scrawny, malnourished child she had once been was all but gone. Ranthia was lean and fit, and she was already taller than even some of the boys around her own age. Yet her body continued to grow and change almost literally every single day.
Tatius started to treat her differently. He still bought her sweets for her birthday, but there were dozens of little changes. He had less patience with her when she was childish. He shielded her from the world a little less. He, with extreme awkwardness, attempted to give her a lecture about sex and pregnancy, which she hurriedly circumvented and escaped. Then, one day, when Pupius recommended a man hunt mission, Tatius hesitated, but he didn’t refuse.
By the time the trio listened to the litany of crimes that the man was accused of, their blood boiled.
The rogue classer had entered one of those tiny villages that dotted Remus, the sort that no one bothered to record on a map since the settlements were often abandoned or overrun by monsters. He had set himself up as a king there and abused the population until the town was left empty. Only a single traumatized old man was left to speak of the fiend’s deeds.
He was either an Earth or a Metal [Mage]. Level estimates put him in the low two hundreds, which meant that—in theory—at least Tatius out-levelled him. Tatius had crossed the level 256 class up recently in his first class. Pupius had fallen a bit behind, with his preference for minimizing the risk when he made his attacks.
Grim-faced, the men accepted the job.
To their credit, the men had only recommended that Ranthia remain behind once. They accepted her refusal and incorporated her into their plans. They made sixteen different plans, two of which Ranthia contributed, depending on their mark’s reactions and the terrain.
He was easy enough to track. He had dragged bulky furniture and other loot from the empty, bloodstained village, which left a clear trail. The Adventurer’s Guild only had a crack at this mission because no Ranger team was in the vicinity. The powers that be in the region wanted the man eliminated for his crimes before he struck anywhere else and, ultimately, Adventurers were more likely to get the job done than a force of guards sent into the woods.
This wasn’t what guards were trained to do. But it was what Adventurers were born to do.
They just had to race the messenger that was dispatched to seek Rangers or one of the nigh-mythical Sentinels.
It was nearly nightfall before they found the villain’s camp. He had set up an oversized tent atop a hill, which was normally a solid idea, but he hadn’t had the sense to clear away the trees or thick undergrowth that surrounded the hill. He had made it trivial for someone to sneak up on him. They simply waited in the woods until dark had fallen, then moved closer.
Plan #3 was their cleanest plan, and they couldn’t believe it was actually going to work. They got within range and Tatius had strung his seldom used bow. Ranthia was so sure that something was going to go wrong. Some trap. Some defense. No one was stupid enough to leave themselves that vulnerable.
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Yet their target walked out to the side of the hill. Tatius loosed the arrow.
[*ding!* Your allies have slain a [Ripping Stones] (Earth, level 219), [Master of Men] (Earth, level 173)!]
“Well, that was anti-climactic!” Pupius called out as he stood.
Only for Tatius to shout a curse and lunge forward while he threw his bow aside and grabbed, desperately, for his shield.
The world felt like it moved in slow motion as Ranthia, still crouched in the underbrush, watched several small projectiles—stones or balls of metal—strike Tatius’ armor. Blood flew from wounds before he got his shield in place.
“Move!” Tatius bellowed.
He was covering Ranthia first and foremost. Ranthia cursed and moved. Pupius was already gone; he was far faster than she was. And he had the sense to know that he was in the way. Ranthia was nowhere near as slow as she had once been, but even Tatius still had more speed than she did.
Not that he could use it. Instead, he backed away slowly, behind his shield, while she made her escape.
Haunted by the sounds of nonstop pings and dings from Tatius’ shield and armor. Sharp stones and metal balls ripped through the woodlands around them, sending up a spray of splinters and shrapnel that pelted them both. But, at last, Ranthia made it back to the tree line and got behind a large tree.
Pupius was behind another nearby. Tatius found his own, where he nearly collapsed, gasping for air.
Gods, he was hurt! She couldn’t even tell how bad it was between the gloom and the ongoing barrage!
Pupius made a sound, which finally drew her attention to him. His hands moved. They didn’t have any sort of language established for silent communication, but some gesticulations were unmistakable.
Two more targets. He was going to go for them.
He invited her to join him.
Ranthia was on the cusp of refusal. She was terrified. They needed to get out of there, they needed to check on Tatius! The job was fucked, there should never have been three [Mages]!
But escape wasn’t an option. Not really. The [Mages] showed no sign of stopping their barrage. Tatius was down, and she wasn’t even sure if he could get back up. He needed them. He needed her.
She wasn’t going to abandon him, not after everything he had done for her.
What had even gotten into her? She was no coward. She wanted to live, yes, but she was a survivor. Survivors faced danger and overcame it. A [Mage]’s barrage might be deadly, but she had her own tools.
Ranthia steeled herself and nodded to Pupius.
Trying to strategize in the dark—the crescents of the moons offered only some light—without words was just stupid. Instead, nearly immediately, Pupius and Ranthia silently decided to trust one another and adapt off of each other.
Ranthia made the first move. [Image of Self] to make it look like they broke cover and tried to run for another tree. Some of the images were shredded by stones—dreadfully quickly—but after repeated uses of the skill she finally had the barrage aimed away from where they were.
How on Pallos were they still going? Small rocks and metal balls were cheap to conjure, but…
Ranthia drank one of her pricy mana potions—gods and goddesses those tasted foul—and slipped out from her hiding place and moved. [Silent Steps] had been a part of her General Skills for ages, something to allow her to sneak around while her decoys drew attention. The skill wasn’t quite as helpful with thick foliage, but that was what her dexterity was for. …That and a bit of care.
Ranthia still sent out images to distract them while she moved, until at long last her line of sight was broken. The barrage continued to tear apart the vegetation where she had last sent an image, but they were on a timer at that point.
Ranthia started up the hill, only to have to fight down an urge to scream when Pupius suddenly showed up next to her.
Bloody speedsters!
Together they moved up the hill while Ranthia tried her best to pretend that she wasn’t completely certain that he was moving with her for a dreadful purpose. He intended to sacrifice himself if they were caught, it was the only reason he had to match her pace and stay just ahead of her.
When they crested the hill, they finally separated to circle the multi-person tent that the trio of killers had established. Their targets had kept a bit of distance between them, so they could spread their barrages out a bit. They knew they were against more than one opponent, though they presumably had no idea just how many.
Ranthia’s heart hammered in her chest as her target came into view. He was in his late 30’s, short, plump, and covered in perspiration. His blond hair was long and wavy. He looked like any number of commoners that aspired to pretend to be wealthy, men she saw almost daily inside any city of decent size.
[Mage] in that awkward shade of red that wasn’t quite pale nor bright red, a healthy pink. Level 204, her familiarity with the color spectrum told her. Well over twice her level, with her first class at level 74. If he saw her, she knew that there probably wasn’t anything that she could do. She’d just die.
So, she moved slowly and carefully. She crossed past a fire where meat roasted—now overcooked and charring—and wove around chairs. She reached his back and hesitated while she tried to plan the best way to attack a taller adversary.
49 strength wasn’t enough that she was willing to go for the heart; she wasn’t guaranteed to pierce through the ribs unless she aimed perfectly. She only had one shot.
[*ding!* Your allies have slain a [Aspiring Artillery Mage] (Earth, level 187), [Metal Murderer] (Metal, level 237)!]
Her adversary started to turn, drawn by the wet gurgle and sound of his friend collapsing.
Ranthia struck. Her left knife, encased in [Shadowed Strike]’s shadows, came around him and slashed inwards toward his throat, even as she thrust her other knife into his kidneys. Desperately she willed the shadows to be sharp and to erase.
The biggest problem with killing a [Mage]? If you only mortally wounded them, most [Mages] could dump the last of their mana into a final effort to take their killer with them. Pupius had told her as much, long ago. Tatius more recently. And her own Xaoc-blessed knowledge even told her as much.
Yet there she was, rolling the dice as a 13-year-old.
The [Mage] howled when her knife pierced his side. Then her other knife tore through his throat in as savage a blow as she could inflict.
His head stayed on.
It wasn’t enough!
The man whirled to face her, his face a mask of brutality that promised death, even as his lifeblood flowed down his pretty green toga.
The man witnessed his killer. A young girl, barely a teenager.
And he hesitated, just for a moment.
[*ding!* You have slain a [Pierce the Heavens] (Metal, level 204), [A Follower with Fangs] (Earth, level 161)!]
An instant later, before Ranthia had even had time to parse her victim’s classes, Pupius’ blades took the man’s head.
Ranthia grumbled at Tatius as she struggled to bandage his wounds. The normally tough and stalwart man squirmed and whined as she roughly applied the poultices that they had bought before the mission and then he managed to outright writhe as she tried to tighten the bandages. Normally she enjoyed teasing him about how bad his pain tolerance was after a job was completed, but the process of trying to treat wounds on the man was ridiculous.
He could take a hit with barely a grunt of acknowledgement, but as soon as the battle was done, he started to whine. He wasn’t even bad with lingering pain, but there were children that were better about letting their injuries be dressed!
She had been one of them.
“You could have taken that [Field Medicine] skill you were offered.” Tatius grumbled. His wound wasn’t terrible, not only would he live but he wouldn’t even be down for more than a week or two—probably less given how stubborn he was—but his pride obviously was devastated even worse than his armor, with how he moped.
“Sorry, not dropping [Silent Steps] until my class up.” Ranthia retorted.
Ranthia finally finished with the bandages—not her best work, but at least the wound was bound—and stood up with a grin… only to blink as Tatius suddenly seized her by the shoulders and looked meaningfully into her eyes.
“I’m so sorry that we had to make you do that.” The man whispered with an intense expression.
“…What? Decoys and sneakiness are my specialty! Don’t worry about it, I was fine.” Ranthia tried to wave her personal guardian off, extremely weirded out by the sudden intensity.
She carefully left out how easily the [Mage] that she killed could have taken her out too. If he hadn’t hesitated—or been surprised, whatever had stayed his hand—she would have been killed. Despite her earlier cowardice, oddly the brush with death just didn’t bother her much. She accepted her mistake and vowed to do better next time.
It was as simple as that.
Probably.
“You’re still so young. We should never have ended up in a situation where you had to kill someone, not so soon. I am so, so sorry for forcing that upon you.”
Ranthia blinked, thrown off. She hadn’t even considered it, but… that was the first time she had killed a human herself.
…At least in her current lifetime.
She had seen Tatius and Pupius take lives a couple of times, but she had never really considered the obvious explanation for how much Tatius had tried to shy away from jobs that might require killing. She’d assumed it was a personal distaste on his part. In deference to him, Ranthia allowed herself to take a moment and consider whether or not she was bothered…
And she wasn’t. For whatever reason she felt certain that she had killed before in her past life—not that she remembered ever doing so—and she was absolutely certain that these men needed killing. Each had some of the features the old man had described, so clearly all three of them had been involved in those horrors.
Pallos was far better off without them.
“It’s okay, I’ve known for years that I’d take a life someday. Besides, those men were baaaarely human at best.” Ranthia finally replied, with a grin.
Tatius sighed, but he nodded and accepted her answer. Finally, he released her shoulders, which was definitely a mercy thanks to the force he was using.
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe how mature you can be. You’re not the scrawny child we first inherited, not anymore.” He muttered.
“It’s getting easier to tell she’s matured; I mean she almost has tits these days. Sort of, at least!” Pupius called out.
Pupius was returning from investigating their camp. Most of the goods were bulky—and stolen—so they intended to leave them for the guards to recover. None of them were exactly optimistic that any of it would end up delivered to the next of kin of those [Mages]’ victims, but it was the best course of action that they had.
And, well, that way who’s going to know if a few of the smaller bits went missing?
Ranthia was busy presenting him with a middle finger for his comment about her… development. He, as usual, wholly ignored it.
“Well, that explains their barrage. Turned out there was a big solid chunk of arcanite under a blanket in their camp, right between where they stood.” Pupius grumbled.
Naked greed alighted within Ranthia.
“Did you…?” She asked with no small amount of glee.
“No way, the thing weighed a ton. It’d even weigh down tall and turtle-y here.” Pupius replied, before he flopped down.
That was too bad. Arcanite was special because the mineral naturally gathered—or maybe generated—mana. Anyone could attune themselves to arcanite and absorb mana from it, which meant that it effectively served as backup mana pools. It was the best option around.
Mana potions, theoretically, filled a similar niche but their effectiveness was completely worse. But they were considerably cheaper than a decent sized arcanite stone. The larger the piece of arcanite, the more mana it held. Bizarrely, even if you cracked a stone perfectly in half, each half would provide far less than half the mana.
Which meant that the tiny flecks of arcanite that Ranthia could actually afford were of no interest.
She sighed, maybe someday.