From atop the stairs at the back of the shop I beheld the cracks in the floor below.

“Pstpstpstpst.” I pstpstpst’d at the border of the old crumbling upper floor, perhaps risking my second life to summon Muncher. The cracks in the lower level opened and the toothpaste portal started spinning, and soon, the soul-donning Labrador wearing a band with cat ears popped his head out, looked at us, and started panting happily.

He barked once, almost knocking me out from the sonic boom that made the whole room tremble.

“Shut up, Moron!” The Clerk shouted at it, and shook his fist in the air. Muncher lowered his ears and sank back into the twister, just a little. I looked back. Blacky was there, expectant. The civet girl (Who was named Mewria and was GBG Rarity, things I found on the way to the store) was sitting on the uppermost step of the staircase, which seemed to not be moving like they had done the last time.

This one was more cunning than Vacatrola. She looked at me with distrust in her eyes. I needed to outwit her.

I produced a couple of commons I didn’t care about from my collection.

“Mewria, could you aid me in feeding the cards to Muncher? I am suffering from vertigo.”

“And I am terminally ill with laziness,” she lamented.

The Clerk gave me a smug grin. I needed to think of something irresistible to her.

“Mewria, could you prepare coffee for Muncher? I want to test something.”

“That can do!” She perked up and instantly ran for the door, probably going to the bathroom to get water and... let’s leave it at water.

A few seconds passed and I peered out the door to make sur eshe wasn’t hiding in the store and listening to us.

“You are not planning to give Muncher coffee, are you?” asked The Clerk caressing his chin with his claws.

“No. I’d never give coffee to a dog. I once caffeinated a poodle, toy variety. We needed five adult men and a TASER to contain the apocalypsespawn. It barked in tongues, it opened portals to hell out of which nothing came out because even demons were afraid of HIM. It was terrible, terrible!” I narrated with my most dramatic tone.

“You are exaggerating.”

“It’s called using hyperbole and it’s a totally legit way to convey the awfulness of caffeinating a toy poodle. Anyway, Clerk, I wanted to ask you something.”

The Clerk smiled and crossed his arms.

“Oh, the little cowboy is packing heat! Shoot me your question.”

“You seem unusually cooperative and easygoing today.”

“If the question is about that, I am gonna get angry,” he said, widening his smile as if he were faking it.

“I know you and The Warden have souls and—”

“Unlike you, redhead,” he mocked, pointing at my hair.

I inhaled, then exhaled slowly. It’s fine, it’s fine. Just a boxer-robot-person. You don’t have a racial slur for that, Mauro. You need one.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“The point is: do pack contents have a soul, at all?”

“What answer would you prefer?” he shot back, producing a counter from his chest pocket, then a chair from below the counter, and then stashing the counter back into the small space it should not have been able to fit.

“You could try not to derail my train of thinking with your cartoonish stunts,” I complained, sitting on Blacky’s back as he looked at me like he wasn’t mean ton be used in lieu of furniture. If I broke his spine, he would respawn anyway.

“It may surprise you given the current political landscape, but I am openly and proudly trainsphobic.”

“Thomas.”

He extended his claws and jumped for my throat, stopping merely centimeters away from it, making me swallow saliva and almost whine from the pain that action caused. “Speak not of the devil, boy.” He commanded with a voice full of metallic echoes, and then slowly recovered his composure.

“Back to the matter at hand… I’d prefer them to not have souls.”

“And that’d make killing them better? Why? Why makes killing someone with a soul worse than something soulless, when it should be the other way around?”

I considered his question for a few moments. “Explain yourself, please. Torturing a souled being is obviously worse than ending the suffering of something without a soul.

“If water is sacred, what is worse, to dry out a pond in the rainforest, or one in the desert? To kill that which lacks a soul is to give it a definitive end. Don’t you think it is infinitely less harmful to end the existence of those who have access to a life after death?”

His stare was not judging me, it was stalking. An expectant predator who had injected the venom and now was eagerly waiting for his prey to collapse.

“I guess so. But … I need to get rid of pack companions, and I cannot avoid getting them if I want to eat. So, tell me, what should I do?”

“There are no ‘shoulds’ here. That’s the beautiful thing. Nobody will call you murderer, rapist, or slaver. No Big Brother to judge your actions, Mauro. As long as you play the game, the goddess is happy.”

I turned to my seat. It was panting.

“Blacky, what is your opinion, in all of this.”

“You need to do some cardio, Master,” he called me fat. A dog called me fat. I was not recovering from that anytime soon.

I wondered what was the correct course of action. The safest was not to turn her into cards, minimize the potential damage. I was, however, angry at her, and I could not sustain her alimentary needs nor keep consuming her… substance. It would not be the first one I killed, either, my hands were stained with the omnitreats resulting from Vacatrola’s demise.

The door opened with a thud! and Mewria appeared with her coffee kettle and some stacked plastic cups. I looked at her in the eyes. She was so excited to be making coffee for us.

“Bring me the kettle.” I simply said, and extended my hand.

She promptly obeyed, and I approached the border of the platform, beholding the panting good boy below.

Muncher barked again, and everything trembled.

“I am going to ask the goddess to get rid of that bark.” The Clerk exclaimed.

“I do not approve of debarking,” I let him know

“What? No, no, I mean, autotune, give him autotune with magic. No vocal cords mutilation involved.”

I sighed and extended the kettle over Muncher, feeling the current of hot air that rose from his mouth. I wanted to get done with this.

Mewria hurried to my side and stopped my arm with her clawed hands, taking care to not draw blood, at least.

“What are you doing? That coffee is for you, Master Mauro!”

Her eyes were adopting a vitreous appearance as tears began to build up on them. That coffee is for me. She wanted me to drink that shit again. That settled it. Soul or no soul, she had to go. I needed to get her to ungrasp from me first, though.

“Listen, if I can get even one omnitreat out of your coffee, that would mean I can use your skills to acquire more cards in the long run. Let me go.”

“But—“

“It’s an order, let me go!”

She reluctantly obeyed, tears running down her beautiful cheeks. I felt bad for her.

A fraction of a second later, she was falling to her death due to the Clerk givne a slight gravitational aid with both hands . Hands he was dusting off as she screamed and Muncher… munched.

My hands trembled, and I let the kettle fall from them as I retreated.

“You took my choice from me.”

“I took the blood from your hands so you would let me go back to the front of the store.”

She was screaming, maybe there was a way to save her. I checked my balance.

GOOD BOY POINTS (GBP): 96

OMNITREATS: 200

She was too far gone already.

“Tell me she had a soul at least, Clerk. That she can hate me in another afterlife.”

“One and done, Mauro, that’s it for companions. No afterlife full of angels and togas, no veil to be beyond for them. One and done.”

I raised my hand, tsptsptsped Muncher, and picked up a cup she had let fall on the floor.

“Lead me to the room, Blacky, I need… I need to think.”

“At your beck and call, Master."