Akemi: Did you get a blessing from the Avatar too?

The direct approach felt necessary here. One, because she didn’t know how much time she had until Pyre realized she was a guild-traitor and turned on her, and two—well, she was curious.

Pyre: Well, that’s forward.

Pyre: But yes. Obviously.

Akemi frowned. The Avatar had made it seem like Akemi was the only person from Earth who had been eligible for transmigration at all. And not only that, but the only person to specifically ask to be a villain. Further, Akemi knew for a fact that Pyre had arrived on Kodra before she did, so the order of events didn’t make sense, either. Why would the Avatar go on that whole tirade if Pyre had just asked him for the same thing?

Akemi: What blessing did he give you?

Pyre: And why would I tell you that?

Akemi rolled her eyes. Of course she wasn’t going to make this easy.

Akemi: It must be your Fireball, right? I don’t see how you could have gotten that power within the Shadow Auditor class. And you don’t have any other classes listed.

Pyre’s messages went silent, and Akemi grinned victoriously. Got her.

Pyre: Whatever. Yes. Clearly.

Pyre: And yours is your… insect ball.

Pyre: That’s unsettling.

Akemi: What? Why? You afraid of bugs?

Pyre: Of course not. But our special abilities are reflections of our personality. The Avatar told me as much.

Akemi frowned. The orb is a reflection of my personality? She didn’t follow. Was the cow trying to make some commentary about how she was like a small, angry insect? If so, she was offended. She was at least big and angry.

Akemi: So you’re fire because you’re… feisty. Adds up.

Pyre: That has to be the most shallow assessment of my character I’ve ever heard.

Pyre: By that logic, you received your spell because you’re a bloodsucking pest.

Pyre: Hm. Actually, you might have a point.

Akemi: Yawn. Do you have anything actually useful to tell me?

As Akemi waited for the other woman to reply, she noticed the surrounding fog begin to thin. It descended, clinging closer to the grass and dispersing outward into the field, like an undulating blanket of white.

The silhouette of Dresden emerged in its wake.

Shallow white walls, like a ring of cement, surrounded the village. The houses were similarly plain and bleak, with slanted white rock roofs. All of these pale, lifeless structures sat in a circle around the feature that most caught Akemi’s eye: a statue of a man, chiseled from marble. The statue was larger than two houses stacked upon each other, emphasizing the man’s tremendous physique. He was an elephant of a creature, with abs chiseled into his torso.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Who is that supposed to be? Another self-obsessed hero-mayor?

Pyre: I actually have a pretty good guess why you got that specific power.

Her gaze moved from the statue to her accomplice menu as another message filtered in. Pyre’s claim keenly piqued her curiosity, but she knew better than to text back immediately; if she was too eager, Pyre would just evade the question. Instead, she had to play hard ball. Insult the woman’s intelligence just enough to make her defensive.

Akemi: Yeah right. Like you’re some kind of genius.

Pyre: You’re the one begging at my feet for answers.

Akemi rolled her eyes. Pyre would never admit it, but she enjoyed this. If they shared one thing in common, it was that they both got high on one upping each other.

Luckily, there was one crucial thing they didn’t have in common: Pyre got equally—if not more—high on proving that she was smarter than Akemi. That meant, with enough gentle pushing, she was almost as useful an encyclopedia as Kobe was.

Akemi: Are you going to tell me, or are we going to go back and forth like this forever?

Pyre: Hmph.

Pyre: You know what Skill Trees are, correct?

She did. They were synonymous with classes. Mindshaper and Shadow Auditor were both classified as Skill Trees.

Akemi: Obviously.

Pyre: Ok. Well, the Avatar’s gifts are similar. That’s why they’re so powerful. Your insect orb is only one skill in a hidden skill tree. There’s plenty more where that came from.

Wait, what?

Akemi’s eyes widened.

Akemi: Seriously? How do I get them?

Pyre: By using your gift. At least, that’s what I assume. My tree unlocked seemingly at random. And when it did, it allowed me to see a subset of the other trees.

Pyre: These trees are called archetypes. They’re some sort of nuanced sub-classification of Heroes and Villains that the System doesn’t usually expose to people, but from what I’ve gathered, the Avatar’s gift allows you to see them, and harness them.

Akemi: Archetypes? Like personality archetypes?

Pyre: Sure, yeah. Exactly.

Pyre: And since I got to see a sample of them, I’m pretty confident I know what yours is.

Akemi: Okay, then. Tell me.

Pyre: Nope. Busy.

Akemi narrowed her eyes.

Akemi: What do you mean, nope?

Pyre: I doubt you need me to explain that to you. Dread just dropped a stack of blood-stained paperwork on my desk, so I don’t have time for this little distraction. Take care of your target, and then maybe we can talk.

Akemi moved to send an annoyed follow-up message, but the accomplice panel flashed her a warning that gave her pause.

Pyre’s messages have been set to Do Not Disturb

“Of course,” she grunted.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. She still had more information than she had started with. If Pyre was right, all she’d have to do is use the insect orb enough times, and she’d unlock the tree.

I wonder if I’ll have to swap out one of my other two classes to use it, or if it fills a hidden third slot? That would be convenient.

If it was the second case—that she could possess three active classes instead of two—that would represent a massive advantage over the natural born citizens of Kodra. In fact, it was hard to imagine why otherworlders weren’t ruling Kodra in the first place, if that was the case.

Then again, having access to more powers didn’t necessarily make you more powerful. You still had to know how to use them, and more importantly, when to use them.

Also, your base stat increases—Strength, Intelligence, et cetera—were still tied to your level, not your class. So outside of having an extra class to wield, otherworlders had no material advantages. They were simply warriors with a wider arsenal. At least, that’s how Akemi understood it so far.

The way she saw it, the more options, the better. She wasn’t going to rule this place with just an insect orb and a few pointy fingers. Different locks took different keys.

Akemi stretched her hands, and rose, ready to tell Bamo to wake up from his little nap.

“That’s the one the Hero Squire told us about! Get her!”

Akemi paused, and slowly craned her head behind her.

Hovering above the mist, she made out the tip of an arrowhead. It was pointed straight towards her.

A man, clad in white like the city’s walls, released the string of his bow.