Jerome ran to the opposite edge of the plains unharassed by external forces.
However, that did not stop him from suffering.
He’d lived his entire life not trying, not caring, and it had served him perfectly well. He’d had a nice thing going. Go to the mandatory citizenship harmony classes. Tweet outrage about the latest harmony-breaking villain. Grab the basic income check. Go home, sit in his chair, drink, watch tv, and play videogames until sleep overtook him. Back then the closest he’d gotten to trying and caring had been the videogames. They’d been the only truly volatile spark in his safe and comfortable existence — the only thing that dared judge his performance — but they weren’t destabilizing enough to be banned.
Now he’d been well and truly cursed.
Krystyna had started it. Her beauty and take-no-shit attitude combined to create a motivation hitherto unknown to him.
Then he’d started to enjoy the process of growth.
Then he saw people in trouble and wanted to help them.
Then he started taking risks.
He put his life and soul on the line multiple times.
He’d grown to care about someone far above the government-recommended levels.
It had seemed so natural, so human. More human than anything he’d ever done.
That was what made this inhuman agony so unbearable. The fact that he’d done everything right, he’d done more than he’d ever done in his life, and he’d still failed.
He wanted to take the ptau’s form, fly hundreds of feet in the air, and turn back into a gnoll. Then he wouldn’t have to think about this. He wouldn’t have to live with this.
Could he go back to the way things were?
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Could he become numb again?
He passed from the plains into the forest, long grasses giving way to trees and shrubbery.
As his thoughts tumbled he came to realize that there was only one way forward. His concience, awakened, would not easily lie back down.
He knew what was right.
However, just knowing the right thing and attempting it wasn’t enough. He had fought and bled and given everything he could. He’d risked and sacrificed.
It hadn’t been enough.
If he wanted to save this world, it wasn’t enough to be a good person. It wasn’t enough to put in a last-minute burst of effort. He needed to become the type of creature that didn’t just have good intentions, but could take those good intentions and turn them into reality.
He needed to practice until he could execute unthinkingly.
He needed to train until he was a living weapon.
He needed to become a monster.
Krystyna’s camp was easy to find — he remembered her scent from when he left, and his gnoll-form nose was powerful. It was a wonder that gnolls weren’t attacking her more often.
She was punching a training dummy she’d set up. Sweat drenched her lithe form.
Nearby a pile of crystals had accumulated, taken from gnolls she’d killed in his absence.
He stepped on a twig and she turned to face the noise.
“You’re back!” Her face lit up in delight, but only for a moment. She saw his grim expression. She didn’t know what he’d gone through, but she could see that something was wrong.
“I finished the quest,” he said flatly. He took out the two scrolls and handed them to her.
“And the Bag of Holding?”
“I’m keeping it.”
Quest Completed (2/3rds)
+1000 EXP
He knew that he should be cringing and apologizing but he didn’t care. He stared her down.
She didn’t complain even though he defied her openly. She was confused at first, since she had never seen Jerome so intense, so focused.
So substantial.
So formidable.
Then she wore that strange look he’d seen in the really old movies, the forbidden movies, right before the main character got laid.
Maybe the forbidden movies were right…
But he didn’t have time for that. He had a Quest.
“What’s happening?” she asked, grabbing his hand.
“This world is a terrible, terrible place,” Jerome said bitterly. Fiercely. “And we have work to do.”