The night was cold and damp, even though it should have been spring, supposedly. Jacob thought that right now, climate change was probably the least of their problems. Not just that, considering all the dead humans who could not pollute anymore, they had most likely solved that problem by simply anticipating the apocalypse.

Joseph was sitting on the porch of his aunt Linda’s house, where a lonely apple tree branched toward the ten-meter cliff that separated the garden and the road.

“I don’t like how you choose who gets what,” Joseph said.

“Neither did Fred, really,” Jacob acknowledged the sentiment.

“But you will continue doing so, right?”

“Yes.”

It was so weird for Jacob to stay there with Joseph. In his past life, the guy had been a massive pain in the ass and a douche. He still remembered how he spoke about Mr. Michelis, which was one of the biggest reasons he had not yet given him something better. Yet, at the same time, this Joseph had fought valiantly against the enemies without uttering as much as one complaint. He had been scared – Jacob could tell – but he had persisted.

How can a person who used to b*tch about everything and everyone transforms like this?

And that was Jacob’s main worry, that he hadn’t changed and that this was going to be temporary. If he had another option aside from the Ancestral Bond to trust people, he would have already started giving out insanely powerful Cultivation Techniques like candies. But, sadly, there wasn’t.

The only thing he could think of was Necromantic Magic to conduct a Soul Search. But, unfortunately, not only was that a barbaric method that felt like torture on the person suffering it, but its results were often a matter of interpretation.

Jacob could read body language, see his neck pulse at the same heart rhythm, and look at his pupils. That was all he could do. A subjective analysis, hoping he would be able to know Joseph better. If the guy turned out to be either spineless or a psychopath – and Jacob did not know which could be more dangerous – then giving him a strong Cultivation Technique would endanger the whole human species.

Jacob’s secrets were not just precious but also more dangerous than nuclear weapons.

Imagine if an ultimate Cultivation Technique fell into the wrong hands. What if people used that power for evil, to kill other humans instead of fighting off Demonic Beasts.

He had thought long and hard on how to interrogate Joseph and Fred and make sure they would be loyal to humankind even more than him. He was happy with being questioned because it meant that they were not planning on backstabbing him any time soon. The first tell that a dagger would find you in your sleep was complete happiness with what you did. Humans were belligerent, obnoxious, and irritable creatures, and if they weren’t angry, hateful, or mean, something was up.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Joe, I have one question.”

Only one question he had decided to ask. If they gave the wrong answer, Jacob would kill them on the spot with no mercy.

“You gave a lot of shit to Mr. Michelis,” Jacob said.

It wasn’t a question.

Joseph was surprised that something so mundane had come out of Jacob’s mouth.

“Uhm,” the guy stumbled, clearly embarrassed when confronted with the truth.

Shame.

That was what Jacob was looking for, the tell-sign that he was not dealing with a psychopath. There would only be confusion on his friend’s face if he had been one of those. Even the best at emulating human emotions faltered when a question like that was asked point-blank.

And now, the second part of the trial.

“I…” Joseph looked at Jacob, who just remained silent.

“I’m a fu**ing idiot, that’s what.”

Jacob saw Joseph's eyes starting to tear up and sighed.

There was no justification for his past behavior, and the guy had just given the only answer he would have accepted from him.

I’m an as*hole.

That’s a good answer sometimes. No justifications, no bullsh*t, no nothing.

Joseph started crying unexpectedly hard.

“Uhm, Joe?” Jacob faltered.

“My mom and my dad loved Mr. Michelis. They always laughed while thinking how he tried so hard to teach dad math. He would bring him to his place and patiently go over the most complicated stuff together. They told me that at the ceremony graduation, they took Mr. Michelis and raised him with their hands above their head, parading him as a hero; this was because that year they got this tough external commissioner for math…”

Joseph started recounting a story of their parents and Mr. Michelis, occasionally stopping to catch his breath between sobs.

“I wished I was a better son, Jake. I really wish I was a damned good son. And now they are dead, aren’t they?”

Jacob did not say anything.

“They wanted me to experience a small school, a calm place. Rome is a sh*thole compared to St. Peter, but I always wanted to feel like I was among the best of the best. In my mind, my parents should have paid for this private school where soccer players’ and celebrities’ children went. I used to tell them that they were cheap all the time, that they just wanted to save on tuition.”

“In reality, they just wanted me to have the same happiness they always had painted on their stupid faces. I have never seen people so stupidly in love in my entire life. And I never told them how much I admired and envied what they had…”

Joseph started sobbing hard for five minutes straight while Jacob went over and, not knowing what else to do, he just hugged him. He was uncomfortable around kids and not used to affection. To stabbing, that he was used to. Affection? He had not known that for a long time, but he also knew that this kid right now needed some human comfort, for all it made our protagonist uncomfortable.

“Do you think there is any chance they are still alive?” Joseph tried to dry up the snot from the crying and the cold with his sleeve.

“If there is, I have the tools that will allow you to see them again.”

Jacob put his palm on Joseph's head and focused.

The Golden Hero Cultivation Technique