Novarra unlocked the door to see the five-year-old, and ushered him in.

"We have much to talk about," she said drily, seating herself on the bed as Evan stiffly sat on the chair opposite her.

"That is correct," Evan agreed. He stretched out his pudgy hand. "My name is Evan King, office worker. It has been five years since I transmigrated as a twenty year old into that of a commoner baby. I am currently twenty-five, although my body suggests otherwise."

Novarra accepted, "My name is Novarra Kiye Ultra, heir to the Ultras, who invented the Ultra SmartFridge. It has also been five years since I transmigrated as a nineteen year old into that of a nineteen year old Queen. I am currently twenty four, as is my body."

"You are a-?" Evan questioned.

She answered, "Correct. I am a rich brat."

Perhaps it was her brutal honesty, but Evan's eyes widened, just for a bit.

"Once I transmigrated, I came up with a plan to fake my death, as there seemed no other way out," Novarra explained. "After that, I escaped to the Rella territory, in the small town of Rook."

After Evan started, Varra held up a hand to stop him.

"Yes, I am aware that Rook is about to be attacked. Which is why, I have a deal for you. I am finished, you may speak now."

I sound so lord-y.

"Thank you. I also have the ability [All-Seeing Eyes], a Personal Attribute that allows me to see - people's game Status, of sorts. I do not think the System has informed you of your Attribute, lest your plans be a lot more reckless," Evan said formally. "I propose I tell you in exchange for something. The deal shall be considered, based on its elements."

"You don't need to speak formally," Novarra insisted. "Either way, I have a piece of information that may prove as a deterrent to gathering more Holy Swords. I was planning to trade it for help to exorcise the rebels, but it seems you have something else in mind."

Ah, it's so weird to speak like this, but it's alright.

After all, there's a reason he addressed me as Former Queen instead of Novarra - so why not act like it?

Novarra planned to be as frank as she could be. Flicking her wrist, she used [Air Manipulation] to summon teabags, a pot of water, and cheap cups from the cupboard to the table.

"Tea?" she offered, and Evan accepted as he snapped.

The pot immediately went up in flames, but Novarra wasn't worried. The fire ceased after a while, the pot left unblemished as she poured the boiling water in the cracked cups and steeped the tea.

"I do have something in mind," Evan offered as he took a cup. "I was planning to take care of them, anyways, out of obligation. It's a Guild Assignment."

"Cavalierre?" Novarra guessed. Well, it wasn't a guess as she already knew.

Evan nodded, sipping the tea as she did the same.

"Correct. Two heads are better than one," Evan replied. "Time is of the essence, however. I have been informed that both Marquis Vanahan and Duke Rella's sons have been deployed to take care of the matter. Rather than result in a huge slaughter, I would prefer it result with...as little death as possible. I hope you wish the same."

After all, they are Resilian citizens.

And likely to overpower the Rook inhabitants.

"I understand," Novarra said. "I am also an adept enough mage. I trust you are the same. Our cooperation will have no little impact." A pause. "Now that the first matter is out of the way, there is still the second and the third."

The second being the information trade, and the third being the third unknown transmigrator.

"I will trade your Personal Attribute for your vital information," Evan proposed.

Novarra almost chuckled.

Evan wasn't a stupid person. After all, who the hell would be in order to get into X University? But he was too trusting - there was a reason Novarra had been able to survive her previous world. The life of an office worker and the life of an heiress were drastically different, although Novarra didn't look down on his somewhat idealistic values.

Perhaps he was already suffering the impact of the Thief's Brand, but he still lacked years of hardening what Navven called grittiness - although Novarra disliked that word.

"Alright," Novarra agreed. "Out with it. I'll uphold my end of the deal, no worries. You have permission to wage war against me if I turn out to be a con artist."

Amusement flitted across Evan's expression, before he hesitated.

"Your Former Majesty," he began.

Yes? Out with it.

Now I don't have to level up anymore, thank Queen Xuena.

"Your Personal Attribute is…"

This isn't a dramatical reveal; I just need my-

"Immortality."

Excuse me?

WHAT THE FUCK?

----

Atticus Miller used to be a farmer.

Until he became a rebel.

The Guilds of the ruins of what used to be Resilia were a horrendous blasphemy to the Heroes. Queen Xuena, may she rest bathed in blood, fought and passed for a noble cause, the cause that spread throughout generations, even when the Undines disappeared.

Freedom.

The root, the core, of Resilia.

That was what he fought for.

The people of Resilia were graced in the presence of it, after the Firefight in which Atticus personally participated in. The roar in his veins, the battle-hungry power that had flowed in him like an adrenaline rush of the might that had been in his calloused worker hands . He had fought for freedom, and he had not regretted it. The farmer had power over his own life, for the first time.

And he relished every second of it, even as the red fire gnawed at his skin.

This was what Queen Xuena had fought for, Atticus had realized, and his belief in her had strengthened as he resisted, again and again, and watched as each noble was executed with a delight.

He put together a group of freedom fighters, of the moniker 'Rebels,' to defend the honor that had been felt.

Hatred against the Guilds, who plundered and lorded over the people like they were any better than the nobles.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Ace," Glenda put a hand on his shoulder, "you have that look on your face again."

"What look?" Atticus drew himself out of his thoughts. In the marquee, the leader of the Rebels known as Ace, and his lieutenant were hunched over a battle simulation with scattered wooden carvings.

"That look, like you're about to destroy the world," Glen said, laughing. "Better destroy the border, first."

"Our attack is in two weeks," Atticus mused, "so I suppose we must get back on track. Fatality reports?"

Glenda hesitated. "Twenty."

"Civilians?"

"Nineteen of them. Only one Rebel perished." Glen frowned. "We don't have enough food to sustain the amount of refugees our camp houses, Ace. Or water. We have to attack, and attack soon. You know the elfe have air mages - they'll find us, fast, once reinforcements arrive."

"If they know we're here at all," Atticus argued. "They won't see us as a threat, I know they won't. They're just like the Guilds."

"Ace," Glenda's tone hardened, "we have more at risk here than just your pride. We recognize you as a leader because you are the founder and the most dedicated to our cause. We are a small organization no longer. We have-"

"Responsibilities, now," Atticus finished. "Yes. Please, spare me the dreadful lecture."

Liabilities, not responsibilities, he bit the urge to say.

Fighting for the people meant being separate from the people, a fact some of the Rebels did not recognize.

Softer, Glen replied, "These are our people, Ace. This is what we are fighting for. We will help the refugees settle, and take land for us. Freedom. That is what we're giving."

The people, Atticus corrected internally yet again.

No one owned them.

"Yes, that is what we're giving," Atticus agreed on the one point that seemed reasonable. "Have you prepared the weapons?"

Glen furrowed her brows yet again. "We're dealing with Giyera for them - if our people figure out we're dealing with the Guilds to fight against them, it won't be pretty," she warned.

Where were your warnings when you joined the Rebels under me, Glenda Wick?

"Just make sure to take care of it, Lieutenant Jack." Atticus' tone was stiff. "We are done here. Summon Lieutenant Knave."

Glenda sighed, a sound of a feeling almost like regret.

"Your orders are received and obeyed, Leader."

A sarcastic jaunt. Those words are only said to Guildmasters.

And Atticus the farmer-turned-rebel was left alone in the marquee once more.

----

Novarra never liked to throw tantrums.

But finding out you were a fucking immortal made you do irrational things.

Evan wasn't the lying type.

Crash, went the teapot as Novarra childishly chucked it. Not at Evan, of course. She wasn't in the habit of shooting the messenger.

After the porcelain shards scattered on the ground, she closed her eyes for a few seconds and regained her composure before seating herself back on the bed.

"I apologize for that volatile scene," Novarra said, meeting Evan's eyes, who seemed a bit unnerved.

"No problem," he replied, somewhat easily although his expression suggested otherwise.

Novarra detached the godforsaken stifling mask, revealing her face while flinging it to the side. She undid her hair and the half-robe that usually covered a shirt as she propped her legs up on the table casually.

The change in demeanor caused Evan to flinch, which amused Novarra.

"[I assume we come from the same country]," Novarra spoke, in the language of her former world.

"[That is correct]," Evan replied in the same tongue.

"[I've never been a particularly patriotic person]," Novarra said, "[but I'll make an exception. Let's be frank with each other. All-Seeing Eyes is not your Personal Attribute, correct?]"

Evan stiffened. "[Yes]," he responded reluctantly, "[But I have already traded. It is time for you to uphold your end of the deal]."

Uphold in X City meant strictly that: Uphold. But no, the clever little thing used the second word for uphold, cralla, in Common, which meant unknot. The people of the Anisa continent saw deals as knotting an unbreakable string between people's wrists, that could only be undone once someone held up their end of their deal, or 'unknotted' it. To unknot was only used when cursing someone as a deal-cheater, a tresne: "He Who Never Unknots."

"[For an office worker, you sure know how to speak well]." Novarra laughed. "[Don't worry, I'm not a con artist. People here would have me executed if I were - they hate tresne more than they hate politicians. But make no mistake: if I do not want to uphold, then I will cut the unbreakable]."

Evan smiled. "[Of course, of course. I will not doubt the illustrious Former Queen]." A bland tone, yet dripping with sarcasm.

Do you really want to participate in that roundabout way of speaking?

Novarra shrugged, reverting back to Common. "It is in my understanding that you have in your possession Excalibur. That shiny weapon in your bag is the former weapon of Queen Xuena, may she rest bathed in blood."

A nod.

"And you stole Kiara's Claim."

Another, more tentative nod.

"Look up the Thief's Brand," Novarra suggested. "It might explain the changes in your soul that I assume have been taking place. That is all the information I am willing to share."

Evan's face didn't change as she continued, "We should set off by tonight. I assume you can Shift?"

Evan nodded. "Into ice, yes."

"Then I will Shift into air," Novarra concluded, "and carry you in a bucket. When you start melting, we can take a break and Shift back. I do not think elements need sustenance, although this might take an absurd amount of magic. No sleeping, no eating. If we try our hardest, we might get there before the others do. That leaves more time for us to search for the third transmigrator."

Who knows, with the epic series of coincidences that follow the protagonist, the third transmigrator might just fall out of the sky.

Novarra didn't mention how tortuous it would be, but Evan would likely get the gist of it.

"We will have straight to no magic left when we get there." Evan frowned. "Then-"

"We will have to resort to trickery, yes," Novarra agreed. "Or just our weapons. I don't see myself as a brilliant strategist, and I don't think you are, either. If negotiations fail, and worst comes to worst, we can just evacuate the children with promises of candy and bomb the entire place."

Brute force. Perhaps a tad distasteful, but then again...

"Just the children?" Evan raised an eyebrow at Novarra's outrageous proposed solution.

"Unless you have a way of distinguishing innocent from not," she replied. "Did Cavialierre provide you with a register, Ev?"

Evan frowned at the nickname, but didn't nod or shake his head. "The Rebels brought around two hundred civilians along with them," he said, disapprovingly. "Their leader, known as Ace, is said to be a Dual-Elemental Master, with two lieutenants, Jack and Knave, of similar prowess. The rest of them are good swordsmen, but non-mages."

Novarra soaked in the information, as she contemplated it for a bit before casually speaking, "Ev, do you know what your name means in Common?"

Evan King blinked. "Evan means destroy, right?" he said, cautiously.

"Evan King, ivauhnking." She delicately pronounced the syllables with a wicked smile. "It means kingbreaker," Novarra clarified.

Evan King, the Kingbreaker. The name you'll be known as in the future. Well, perhaps, not now, since the timeline's changed.

"My dear Ev, where do you draw the line at?"

A necessary question, perhaps.

The five-year-old blinked at the question, his innocent round eyes widening.

"Mass murder, torture, and murder of the innocent," he said, slowly, understanding the implications without further prompting.

Novarra nodded. "Good to know. Before I lost mine, we had similar lines. Back then, not when I first arrived in the world I mean. What's your Assignment?"

"Diffuse the situation," Evan said after a pause. "With as little force as needed, before the mages arrive."

"Hmmm." Varra picked up the teacup and slurped the rest of the remaining liquid, while letting a smile curl across her lips.

Do I have to pretend I'm crazy? Would that carry the point across?

Well, crazy villain laughing always gets the point across, doesn't it?

Novarra met his eyes, and laughed, long and hard.

"[Let us plan, and let us act, and let us bluff tonight, Kingbreaker]," the liar dramatically drawled, "[for when you have nothing, you will have to pretend that you have everything]."

Tsk. I sound like a stereotypical villain.

----