Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lazarus wanted Jackson to wait until they went to his pocket dimension before doing anything progression-wise, so Jackson tabled that as they headed out to speak to Rob. As expected, he did not take the news well.

“Ya can’t just murder them!” Rob shouted. Apparently, he did not care who heard. They drew a few sharp glances, and a few people crossed their arms; others began to gather around. Talking about murder naturally drew a crowd. Jackson took a breath and spoke, addressing not just Rob but also those around them.

“I guess this includes all of you. Your friends in that medical tent have been corrupted; there is a seed inside of them, and if we do nothing, they will turn into demonic monstrosities that will kill you all and corrupt this entire dungeon. The only way to stop it is to kill them. Permanently.”

Jaws dropped, people began muttering, and one man called out, “How do you know this for certain?”

Jackson shrugged, “I’ve seen it before, and I’ve fought these demons before. In fact, so have a few of you. Those kobolds you’ve fought? They are monsters that demons have corrupted into a kind of… lesser demon, so to speak. Imagine that on a much wider, much more terrible scale, and you have an idea of what will happen should these corrupted people be allowed to live.”

A few shared glances of concern at that. Still, some remained unconvinced, particularly Rob.

“These are our friends you’re talkin’ about killin’. Surely there is somethin’ else we could do.”

Jackson shook his head, holding up his hands in a helpless gesture. “There’s only one other option, and that is killing the tree that this seed comes from.”

Rob grew excited. “There, you see? A way after all!”

Jackson let his lips twist into a grim smile. “Not really. The tree is at the top of the mountain.”

Despair replaced Rob’s excited grin, his face falling.

“Even if we could get to the summit, we wouldn’t be in time. Even if you ran, the demons would simply find you in due course. You have nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. I wish there was another way. Do you think I want to do this? Of course I don’t, but there are no other options. I brought this to you so you understood, so you could prepare yourselves and grieve properly. Now, I’m going to go into that tent. I suggest none of you follow.”

No one did.

Lazarus had told Jackson that their blood would taste normal, as they hadn’t turned into demons just yet. Not that Jackson was really concerned about the taste, but he guessed the spirit wanted to somehow ease his burden. Jackson looked into the eyes of a brown-haired elf, and nothing looked back at him. There was nothing there except this twisted sort of light.

“I don’t know if there’s anything of you left in there. Don’t know if you can hear me. I want you to know I am sorry. I am sorry this happened to you. No one should have their will twisted and taken from them like this. I think, in a way, I am doing you a favor. You will die as you are, at least, not turning into some twisted abomination. Still, I am sorry.”

With that, Jackson opened his mouth, revealing sharp fangs, and as fast as a striking viper, he latched onto the elf’s neck and began to feed.

Consume Blood has increased to level 18.

As with nearly every time he fed on blood like this, the feeling was beyond pleasurable. Power coursed through him—power, hunger, and overwhelming pleasure—to the point where he let out a little groan as the elf’s sweet blood filled his mouth and slid down his throat like silky chocolate. The elf did not struggle; he did not cry out. The elf died a few moments later as Jackson raised his head to the ceiling, wracked with pleasurable, hot power.

You have killed a level 23 elf.

The rest went like that. Jackson felt a little like he was gorging himself, awash with blood and power. Halfway through, he had even begun to chuckle a bit, laughing from the euphoria of it. Thoughts slithered through his mind. Why shouldn’t he do this more? How could feeling this way be wrong? He looked at his hand and clenched it into a fist, feeling as if he could shatter a planet with one punch.

Riselle’s horrified face flashed through his mind. No, what he was feeling was wrong. He needed to temper himself to make sure he didn’t start thinking he could do this to everyone. He would not allow himself to turn into a monster. He would not allow himself to not care.

He took a deep breath and stood up. All of them were dead, completely drained of their blood. His Consume Blood skill had reached apprentice level 1, but he didn’t celebrate it. He merely looked down. He had done what was necessary, and he thought he had resolved himself to it. Why did he still feel like a monster, then? This was who he was, and this had to be done. Why couldn’t he accept it? His fists were clenched tightly, and his body shook. His breath felt ragged.

It was Melanie’s words that stabilized him. Monsters don’t care. He did care; that much was true, or he wouldn’t be feeling this way. He cared, and he had done what had to be done. So long as that remained true, he would not succumb. He nodded firmly, took a few more deep breaths, and left the tent. A crowd had gathered, and tears streamed down some faces. Rob’s fists were clenched, and his face was tight. Helpless anger burned in his eyes. Jackson nodded,

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“It is done.”

Sobs filled the air, an ugly song of sorrow that cut almost like a physical blade. Jackson looked at Melanie and Lazarus, and they nodded, going back to their tent. Leaving the people of this settlement in their grief. Jackson sat down in a chair, feeling heavy.

“You did what you had to do, lad.” Lazarus said.

Jackson nodded wearily. Melanie put a hand on his shoulder. He let his gaze fall on the ancient spirit.

“I’m ready to train now. Let’s go to this pocket world of yours.”

Lazarus looked at Jackson, as if trying to figure him out. Finally, he nodded and waved a hand. The air began to warp, and a crimson portal split the air, as if tearing reality apart at the seams. Nothing but blackness met Jackson’s gaze as he looked into the portal. If he hadn’t trusted the spirit, he would have thought Lazarus was sending them into some abyssal hellscape, but he did trust him. Jackson gave Melanie a look, and she gave him a determined nod in response.

Together, they entered the Lazarus pocket world, ready to receive their inheritance.

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They entered a large, ancient-looking hall. Dark stone walls surrounded them, with weapon racks mounted on them as well as various heads of different creatures. One was an actual dragon's head; it looked so lifelike that Jackson actually stepped back, thinking it would attack. More racks of weapons were at ground level, except these looked to be training weapons. Off to the far right was a kind of spring.

But not just any spring. No, this was a spring of blood. The crimson life liquid filled the spring, and dark stones surrounded it, with dark stairs that led into it. All in all, the whole room was very... gothic. Lazarus shrugged at their expressions,

“Maybe a little edgy, but I have a certain image to maintain, you know. I can also change it at will. Now then, we have to talk about everything you’re doing wrong, lad, and everything the lass here is doing right.”

Jackson chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be, all mighty and wise teacher?”

Lazarus crossed his arms, unamused.

“Take this seriously, Jackson, or we will never get anywhere, got me?”

Jackson sighed but gave him a thumbs up. Lazarus eyed him, making sure his point was made, and then pointed at Melanie.

“Tell me, what does she do right, lad?”

Jackson looked at her, and she shifted, clearly a little uncomfortable with the attention. He thought about it and then gave an answer:

“She is skilled with her bow, moves well, and pays attention in combat.”

He was uncertain, so it came out more like a question than a statement. Lazarus’s mouth twisted slightly, and he raised his hands.

“You almost got it, but not quite. She’s focused. She does what she’s good at and sticks to it. Movement, her bow—that’s what she does, and she plays into that. You hardly see her use much else.”

Jackson shrugged, not really getting it.

“Okay, so I’m more versatile, then. What’s wrong with that?”

Lazarus rubbed his face,

“Let’s approach this in a different way. Tell me, why would a master smith be valuable?”

Jackson chewed on his inner cheek and shrugged.

“I guess because he has mastered a skill not many have. Master smiths are rare, and it takes years to hone their craft. But that’s just like any craft.”

Lazarus pointed at him, and Melanie’s eyes began to widen as she apparently got what the spirit was driving at.

“Precisely. He honed his skill over the years. Why don’t smiths become carpenters, architects, or take on any other craft?”

Jackson blew out a breath.

“I don’t know, Laz. Maybe they do. What is your point?”

Melanie spoke for him.

“He means that the smith focused his skill. If he tried his hand at multiple skills, he wouldn’t have mastered smithing. Not to the level a master should be at, anyway.”

Lazarus nodded at her, beaming.

“Ah, a lass after my own heart. Well done. Melanie here is focused; she spends her time improving just a few skills. You, my fledgling, have multiple skills and weaves. You have your mist, your blood binding, your blood lightning, your regenerations, your consume blood, your blood veil, and your destruction infusion. So many skills! Yes, you’re right; it makes you more versatile, but you’re sacrificing the focus needed to master a few skills. You cannot possibly master all of those skills, and by trying, you will inevitably fall behind those that are focusing on just a few. Let me tell you, lad, that one master-level skill is far more valuable than a dozen lesser-level skills. Do you understand now?”

Jackson gave it some thought, and begrudgingly, he nodded. He understood Lazarus’s point.

“I already have all these skills; what am I going to do? Abandon them?”

Lazarus grinned,

“No, you’re not. What you need, lad, is refinement! That class evolution you have? With the inheritance I am giving you, you can merge skills or give them up in place of new ones at the same level. The same is true for weaves. Before you do that, however, we have more to go over. Now, listen closely and answer this question.”

Lazarus rubbed his hands,

“Do you have to kill monsters to level up or level up a skill?”

Jackson opened his mouth and then closed it, clinching up his eyebrows in thought. Melanie tapped a finger against her lips. Jackson shook his head.

“By asking the question, I think you’re implying that you don’t.”

Melanie agreed,

“I’ve just been assuming that’s how it works.”

Lazarus chuckled,

“Many do. The truth is much different. All the Judge cares about is the challenge. Testing yourself. Jackson, you should have picked up on this with your enchanting.”

Jackson chewed on his tongue and blew out a breath.

“You’re right. It didn’t even occur to me. Still, what are you driving at?”

Lazarus pointed at Melanie and Jackson.

“You two are going to evolve your classes, and then you’re going to spar. In addition, I am allowed to generate monsters in this dungeon. I’m going to reveal to you some additional secrets as the cherry on top. I hope you’re ready, children; it’s time for some training.”