It was important to have times where you did nothing. Not only to let your body recover, but to allow your mind to process and move past the trauma and descent into chaos. Mixing the bandits with the Player ambush was a recipe that left a sickness deep within me for some time. My first dance with darkness. Not the last, and in time my footwork would improve, and I’d really put on a show once death extended a skeletal hand for my time at the ball once more.

We sat on chairsm, although I did not remember where we got them. Before us was a crackling fire, set up within the woods some distance away from the bandits. Even in the afternoon’s light, beneath the canopy the light from our own camp illuminated both us and the nearby surroundings with an amber glow.

For a while, we just stared at the flames. I watched as they danced against the light breeze. The wood cracked and split from the heat, occasionally shifting the pile abruptly. The warmth enveloped me and brought comfort.

The ambush from the other Players had gifted me some actually useful armor. I seemed to have an affinity for spellcaster gear, so the wizard had been a special little trove of clothing to increase my mana and Int. Just words to me, at this stage. Whoever designed the System would be annoyed that I preferred to play things by feel rather than quantify how the numbers worked. Ironic, given how I spent the idle processes of my mind. Enough food to last us a few days, but they carried little else of use. They must have a storeroom or safe house in their hideout. I worked my jaw in thought.

“Max, are you okay?”

I raised an eyebrow at the elf, who was frowning at the fire still. “Never better. I’m having the time of my life.”

She chose to ignore the sarcasm. “I watched you. Figured you’d need rescuing or have to run off from the fight. You did well.”

Part of it had felt natural to me. The taking of lives. Maybe it wasn’t some hidden facet of myself, but just something inside that could separate the fact that they were real. In the sense of having… a soul? My brain was still behind the times and had no intention of catching up.

“Thank you,” I eventually offered. My first proper show, successful to rave review. Audience of one, but that's how things started out way back when I was a child.

“For what it’s worth…” she trailed off before looking into the surrounding woods. “I’m sorry to put you through that. Both the bandits and the Players.”

“Forgiven.” My frank response actually drew her glare, a brief surprise within the scowl. I smiled, while internally I screamed. All the turmoil would pass in time, I just had to soldier through it. Show must go on.

“Just like that, really?”

“Your methods of teaching me are rather harsh, but I understand it to some degree. You expect me to measure up to some standard to be of any worth to you and your cause.” I tried to position myself more comfortably in the chair, but my body wasn’t having it.

She glared at me, and I tried to read her bright eyes. Despite her brow, there wasn’t really anger behind them, a lot of anguish maybe, some internal conflict I wasn’t privy to.

From my Inventory I pulled out a Sweet Cake for us each and passed one over.

“More?” She took it eagerly, but eyed me with suspicion.

“Ration boxes or something, just the two, though.” I took a bite and slunk down in the wooden chair, closing my eyes in an attempt to relax.

Silence covered our small clearing, except for the occasional bite of cake and the crackling fire. It was peaceful, and any residual pain had started to become a numb ache across my battered body.

“I didn’t come here alone…” Ren said quietly.

I turned my head toward her and opened my eyes back up, the glow of the fire illuminating an odd expression across her face.

“He… we were engaged. Planning to run away from my responsibilities to be together. Somehow we ended up here. And he… he died, as we tried to escape from the group that attacked us.”

My tongue caught in my mouth. “I’m… really sorry.” That’s all I could manage. Barely had I been able to get over the loss of my mother in my previous life, I was in no position to advise on something so close to her heart. It pained me that her expression was no longer that of a grouch, but of exhausted sadness.

Just as soon as it was there, she shook it away. “Well, you’ve killed four of the fuckers for me. That makes you alright in my book.”

I stared back at the fire for a bit. “The other five will come for us now?”

“No, more likely they’ll hold up in their hideout. They won’t be so reckless now. I doubt they expected both of us to be here, and for you to be so… capable.”

Capable was a word I wasn’t sure I could affix to the action of being a proficient murderer. Although she had perhaps just meant the use of my new abilities.

“I’m probably not supposed to bleed from the hands, though.” They looked fine now, and I brought them up to check. Some bruising, otherwise healed and fine.

“Looked like blood magic. I was worried you were going to explode or something.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at me.

I caught her look and smiled. “You were worried?”

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“Don’t be an asshole, trickster.” She scowled at me. “I just opened up to you and everything.”

“I figured that was more the Sweet Cake than anything I had done.” I leaned back in my chair and smiled to myself, content enough to just hear her sigh in resignation. From my Inventory I withdrew another cake and waved it towards her.

“So full of shit.” She took it from me. “But, thanks.”

“Life is both full of shit, and full of pleasant surprises, Ren.” The smile faded from my face as I looked up at the canopy. “You need the ebb and flow to keep you going.”

“Poet now, are we?” She shook her head and stood up, finishing the cake and wiping her fingers off. “If you want to grumble on or espouse romanticisms, we should at least walk while you do so. Your level up is soon.”

“And then you’ll take me a little more seriously?” I stood and watched the chairs collapse into her Inventory.

“You said I was forgiven,” she said as she glared at me.

“You are. When you called for me, I came immediately to your aid. Like a proper Party member would.” I crossed my arms and smiled, enjoying the last of the fire's warmth before it went out.

Ren looked down and away. I wondered if she felt shame for having to call for my help, or embarrassed that I did so even after she had thrown me to the wolves. Her brow had softened, despite the glare cutting into the patch of dirt on the ground.

“Max, I don’t…”

“I get it.” I walked past her. “Don’t trust easily. Have high expectations. Those feelings are rooted in your past and are valid. Just have a little faith in me, suspend your disbelief.”

I carried on toward the objective marker, allowing her to get rid of the fire before catching up. The interesting thing about faking it till you make it was that sometimes it actually worked. Whether the System smoothed out the edges using Deception was neither here nor there. Inside, I was full of panic and uncertainty. My hands were fine, but looking at them, I still saw the blood. I could hear the last dying breaths. Pulses of crimson, shocked eyes, the snapping of bone. Escape was gnawing at my insides.

Latching onto pepping Ren up was a shackle to keep me grounded. An act borne from a scared truth given full bloom of life. I wasn’t lying to her with what I said. It was just a thought that had been given center stage, buffed up by my best grandstanding.

Ren caught up, and we walked on in silence. This time, there was a bit of awkwardness in the air. At this stage, I honestly didn’t know what to do. Conflict and close personal relationships were as foreign to me… no, more foreign to me than ending lives. My tongue rolled my teeth as I tried to recall something.

“Hmm.” I tilted my head. “When I started here, the System said something about soul duplication and merge.”

At first, I wasn’t sure if the elf would respond, but she eventually scrunched up her face. “Really? Shit.”

“What do you think that means?” I looked off down the road. The little house should only be fifteen minutes or so, I reckoned.

She exhaled through her nose. “No idea. You have two souls in you, but combined into one? I’m not sure how that could happen.”

I didn’t feel like any less of myself, or any more of anyone else. Despite the weird feeling that I had a life I couldn’t remember different from my magician past… I somehow knew it had still been me. Just a different me. My body shuddered at the thought. Also, my jacket had a few holes in now that let the breeze through.

Magic was my normal life. Perhaps demons were my alternative life - hence the Class I now had. Questions beyond me, yet settled in for the long ride.

“We might have to push you a bit to get your level four.” Ren tapped at a side pouch on her belt. “We’ll want to strike while the iron is hot and get the five before they really fortify themselves in.”

I glanced at the elven woman. The burns she received from the wizard earlier had all but cleared up. Tired, but her radiant hair and bright eyes didn't look any worse for wear. I wondered if scars were even possible here - I certainly still felt the toll on my body even if I wasn’t outwardly injured.

“We can’t see Classes or Levels, right?”

Ren nodded. “There’s a skill for that. It’s called… Analyze, I think. There was one other before you here that had it.”

It was my turn to frown at the Oathwarden. “By one other, do you mean you had a friend?”

“Someone who wasn’t a giant asshole, yeah. Human named Fiona. Some kind of fighter Class.”

“She didn’t want to stick around and help you?”

Ren worked her jaw, perhaps unsure as to how talkative she really felt. “Everyone has their own ambitions, trickster. Hers took her to the mainland.”

I smiled. “No objections to finding her and asking her to join our Party then?”

“I haven’t said I’ll…” She rolled her eyes. “One bridge at a time, Max.”

Personally, I considered it a done deal. She may come off as cold and aloof, but now that I had shown myself as a dependable and definitely mentally stable person, she was bound to agree to Party together on the mainland.

As far as other Party members went, sure, that could be a bridge to cross or burn later. If everyone had to crawl through the dirt to catch up to us, then that’d slow us down and leave our options limited. But we would need someone we could trust with our lives.

My eyebrow raised as I looked off into the treeline. “I trust you with my life.”

She deflated, clearly tired from my haphazard attempts at conversation. “What? Why say that now? Do you expect me to say it back?”

I shrugged. “Either you do, or you don’t.”

“Fucking dickbag, Max." She scowled off towards the woods. "Yes, alright? I do."

Unfair of me to push her when she clearly wasn’t the opening-up type. Maybe even hypocritical, if I let the thought sink too deep in my brain. Part of me did need the reassurance, though. If she wanted to grind me to dust to find out what I was worth - that was fair. But I needed to know there was something greater worth the suffering. Those who helped your performance didn’t need to share your vision, but they need to be competent and on the same page. That was the mirror we held up to each other.

The farm house loomed up on the road now, the old man still sitting and awaiting my triumphant return.

“After you level up, we’ll go inside. Get washed up before the next Quest.”

I nodded. He probably wouldn’t mind, being stuck on the porch and having to give out quests all day. He probably didn’t get much use of the place. “We can spare the time?”

“You smell like a morgue shat you out, and I have been roughing it for almost a week. Yes, we can spare the time.”

There wasn’t much anger in the statement, but an edge of desperation for some creature comforts. After the death of her partner, I was sure she had gone through a lot - although perhaps not a good idea to get creative with more than she had let on. Every life has a shadow, and all that.

“You return, adventurer!” The old man grinned, a sparkle in his eye that disarmed me. Easy to forget who they were - or weren’t, as the case may be.

“Certainly, Sir. One [Family Heirloom], and lots of bodily harm and trauma. Although I think I’ll hold on to those!”

“Please do,” his grin persisted as he held his hand out. The heirloom, some form of jug, touched his hands and then vanished.

“Feel accomplished yet?” Ren was leaning on the wall near the front door, a dull look on her face.

“Thank you, adventurer. I don’t have much, but please accept these.”

[Quest Complete - Rewards Received]

[Deployable Grill]

[Rations Box (3)]

[50 Gold]

[Level Up - 3]

[Stats Increased]

[New Passive: ]

[New Passive: ]

[New Ability: ]

“Oh yes,” I smiled and tipped my hat toward the elf. “I certainly do.”