Chapter Twenty-Two

Jackson asked Melanie to cut through the demon's center. She hadn’t really been pleased with having to do it.

“Why can’t you do it?” she asked, a fist on her hip and an eyebrow raised.

Jackson shrugged.

“If I pick up any kind of physical weapon, it will paralyze me.”

Melanie blinked and opened her mouth, but Jackson grunted and waved off her question, responding to it before she could ask it.

“It has to do with my new class, Acolyte. I’ll happily answer more questions after we get this done. I’m telling you, you do not want more of those demon cobras to appear, and they will if you don’t do this.”

Melanie sighed in frustration but did as Jackson asked. He had to admit, it was nice not to have to cover himself in more gore.

“Argh. This is disgusting.”

Jackson nodded in agreement. After a while, she pulled out the seed. She eyed it, her disgust clearly deepening, and a shudder ran through her.

“This thing is—”

“Evil. Yep,” Jackson cut in.

Her eyes flicked at Jackson.

“How did you know this was in the thing?”

Jackson shrugged, not wanting to lie, so he said nothing at all. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and her mouth opened, likely to express her displeasure at his response. Before she could, Azlam and Fred walked up. Fred’s face twisted at the sight of the demon, its chest torn open. Azlam looked at it but otherwise gave no other reaction.

Jackson looked at Fred,

“How many people did we manage to get through the portals?”

Fred looked troubled.

“As many as we could, lad. As many as we could.”

That suggested it wasn’t enough, but it was something. At least they had tried. Fred looked around and then at Jackson.

“We should go back to my tent. We can all talk there, and I need to tell the lad something, anyway.”

Jackson nodded, and they all headed back. Azlam fell into step with Melanie, and the two fell into hushed whispers. Every so often, Jackson could feel eyes on his back.

“If you suspected that they were looking at you, fledgling, I can confirm that they are,” Lazarus’s voice drifted to Jackson's ear.

It didn’t bother Jackson; he was unsurprised. There was likely a lot on Melanie’s mind. Jackson knew, in fact, that there were things on his. It didn’t take them long to get to Fred’s tent. They went inside, and Jackson was a little surprised to find it had not been looted. He supposed people had been in too much of a hurry to leave to bother looting. Fred produced chairs from somewhere, and they all sat. Before anyone could speak, Fred raised a hand.

“What I have to say is probably the least complicated, so allow me to get it out of the way. Jackson, lad, I’m leaving.”

Jackson's brows furrowed.

“Leaving?” Fred nodded.

“Headed for Aetherius, as soon as I can get packed, in fact. I mean, you have to admit, there is nothing for me here any longer. It was a more profitable venture than I could have admitted, though I wish your enchanting of my work would have increased my Domain’s level like I had wanted, but I can search for answers elsewhere.”

Lazarus’s head cocked, and then realization seemed to dawn.

“I see. He is at level 199, then. I can help. I was getting ready to tell you this anyway. Listen close, fledgling. This is important, and what I am about to reveal is a secret. It won’t get you killed, like some of the other information I have kept. However, knowing it is still dangerous because it has to do with why Abbaddon is here in this dungeon. If I tell you this, fledgling, you must be very careful. The only reason I am chancing it is because I think there is something else going on. Something deeper. Now, listen, we have come to the important part. What the smith needs is a Concept. A Concept is an image of a symbol that represents an idea. That idea, that Concept, must resonate with you, Jackson, with your Domain, the deepest parts of who you are. That image, that symbol, needs to be imbued into your Domain, threaded through with your aspects, your mana. There is so much more to this, but that should be enough for the smith. For now.”

Jackson had many questions of his own, but he could not just speak to Lazarus out loud, not in front of everyone. He relayed the information to Fred, cautioning him the same as Lazarus did. Melanie and Azlam shared a look of confusion writ large on their faces. Fred poked at a tusk, clearly thinking.

“A Concept, eh? I can’t say I have ever heard of it. As you say, it could have been hidden information. That happens a lot in Eden, hiding the secrets of advancement. I will think about it and see what I can dig up. Now, I must get packing. I feel you two have a lot to discuss. Thank you, lad. For everything.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

With that, Fred slapped his knees, the sound echoing around the tent, stood up, and headed outside, presumably to pack his forge. Melanie’s hazel eyes landed on Jackson. In them, he saw confusion. Azlam was easier to put together; he practically quivered with anger. Jackson sighed,

“Are we going to continue the conversation as before, because I don’t think that really got us anywhere?”

Azlam made to speak, but Melanie put a hand on his shoulder. She met Jackson's gaze and spoke, considering.

“You saved my life from that demonic thing. It doesn’t change the fact that you killed Riselle, and in a way, I don’t understand. She had more than one life. It also doesn’t change the fact that you have information you have not shared, and the information you have shared, well, I wonder about the source. How did you get it?”

Melanie shook her head.

“I don’t trust you. I can admit that Adaran’s death was not entirely your fault. Though my heart wants to lay the blame at your feet, my head tells me that is unfair of me. Riselle…”

Her eyes hardened.

“That one you need to explain. If you refuse, Azlam and I will go our way, you will go yours, and if we ever meet again, it will be as enemies in truth.”

Bowing his head, Jackson thought about it. It wasn’t that he did not want to tell her. He actually did, because he felt it would add the needed perspective and her validation would assuage his guilt. Lazarus spoke, his words a whisper in Jackson's ear.

“Telling them is dangerous. You don’t want to do this, fledgling.”

Jackson leaned his head back, looked at the ceiling, and laughed. It was a hopeless kind of laugh, and Melanie and Azlam looked at him as if he had cracked. Maybe in a way he had. Jackson shook his head.

“I want to tell you. I honestly do, but if I do, it will put not only yourselves but also me in danger. It’s a rock and a hard place. Circumstances demand I keep the information to myself, but I do not want to do that.”

Jackson shook his head, feeling lost. Melanie cocked her head.

“Why can’t you tell us?” she asked slowly.

Jackson looked at her, and then at Lazarus. What he couldn’t say was a little unclear. Lazarus spoke,

“I told you before, fledgling, some people can dig within your mind and pull the information from you.”

Jackson's brows furrowed, and he asked, before thinking,

“Why couldn’t they pull the information from my mind then?”

Melanie raised an eyebrow.

“Who are you speaking to?” she asked.

Jackson cursed inwardly. Lazarus chuckled,

“You’ve done it now; she thinks you’re bonkers. To answer your question, dear fledgling, it is because your skill hides those memories and thoughts. Anything related to your vampyrism, it hides. These two, however, have no such protection.” He nodded towards Melanie and Azlam.

Jackson looked back over at them.

“I am talking to a spirit. He’s part of a reward. I suppose you could say that for a quest I completed on the first floor. It’s why I wanted to get back there when I met you. He is very knowledgeable about Eden and its system. It’s how I told Fred about Concepts. It’s also how I know this information is dangerous, but I’m going to try.” Jackson's voice firmed up.

Melanie gestured for Jackson to go on, her gaze thoughtful as she digested his words. Lazarus spoke up, his tone filled with warning.

“Fledgling….” Jackson shook his head at him and spoke, though his word choice was careful.

“I did not want to kill Riselle, at least not in the way I did. However, she was trying to kill me. I tried to just talk to her to explain myself. She wouldn’t listen, so she attacked me along with Azlam here. Azlam I was able to send to respawn, but Riselle... All I can say is that something came over me, and the way I killed her was wrong. I won’t deny that.”

Jackson's voice hardened.

“But Riselle was trying to kill me. Regardless of how wrong I was, regardless of what choice I could have made differently, she was trying to kill me, even after my peaceful attempts to resolve the situation. Adaran died because it was in the heat of battle, and I was trying to survive. If I had not done what I did, Adaran, you and anyone else there may have well died anyway. Should I have stayed my hand then? Should I have not defended myself? Allow myself to be killed, to spend a precious life? No. I don’t think so.”

Anger Jackson did not realize he had boiled within him, and before Melanie and Azlam could speak up, he bowled over them.

“Who are you two to judge me anyway? You never even gave me a chance to explain myself! Not with Adaran, anyway, and the only reason you’re even entertaining my explanation of Riselle is because I saved your life, Melanie! I get it; you’re angry and you’re hurt. I understand that, and I don’t think I don’t feel some guilt. I wish I could have made a different choice, and I honestly do. However, the past is the past. This is a brutal world we find ourselves in, with danger around every corner. Riselle chose to try and kill me. She chose to attack me, knowing she could die in turn. She chose that, and again, she did so despite the fact that I offered her a peaceful option. Emotions aside, that was her choice. I am taking responsibility for my part, but I am not about to allow you to ignore the responsibility she bore for her part.”

Jackson's chest was heaving by the end. Melanie's face was blank. Azlam, though, had stood up; he was growling and looking on the cusp of violence. Jackson looked at him,

“I know you don’t like hearing the truth, but I am offering you no violence. If you can’t contain yourself and attack me, you will end up the same as Riselle, I promise you.”

Azlam drew his axe, and Melanie stood up, facing him. Her eyes streamed with tears, and her fists were clenched, her jaw working as if she were chewing on a bit of gristle. What she said next, she said through clenched teeth, was no less firm.

“No! He’s right! Riselle does bear some responsibility. The truth, Azlam, is that we are allowing our emotions to cloud our judgments.” Azlam growled, his gaze filled with fury, and he tried to step around her, but Melanie got in his way.

“Please. I don’t want to lose any more friends. He already beat you once.”

Azlam's gaze bore into hers.

“Him or me,” he growled.

Melanie laughed, though it was not the joyous sound it was meant to be.

“What? An ultimatum now? No, Azlam. It will not be me who chooses, but you. I will not allow you to fight him, even if it does cost us our friendship.”

Melanie’s hazel eyes filled with tears, but her voice was firm. Azlam nodded stiffly.

“Then you have made your choice. Bye, Mels.”

Then the barbarian turned his gaze to Jackson.

“I will kill you one day, murderer.”

His lips turned up in a snarl, but he turned on his heel and left the tent.