When he had split off from Tess, Charles was following the plan of causing a scene at what had become the front of this fortress. It was so that more attention might be focused on him, drawing it away from her. In many ways, the plan was working.

Many of the patrols outside the walls had focused on him, but even in their small groupings they were no real threat to him. After striking down the first few groups to arrive, he had even started trying to offer others the opportunity to flee or surrender, though none took him up on it. He had a suspicion that there was some sort of compulsion induced by magic likely affecting them. While he too possessed the Counter skill, it was not the modified version to free those already impacted by such effects. He wondered why it was that Chariel had left the change in place, given that it broke the intended usage, as he cleaved through another batch of soldiers bound to follow whoever’s orders.

The explosion that rocked one of the side towers signaled Tess’s entrance into the fortress, causing him to smirk behind his helmet.

“How can I draw attention against something like that?”

Despite the much louder commotion she was causing, Charles found himself staring down three men who were not a part of any of these patrols.

“Tsk, heavy armor is so annoying to get through,” one complained.

“Shut up. We take care of this one and we can go take out the mage too,” said the second, who was standing in the center.

“Who put you in charge?” retorted the first, “I’m a hero!”

“A damned hero, from what I heard,” quipped the third.

“Hey! You want to say that to my face!” challenged the first.

Charles let out a sigh. During his brief duel against Viktor, he had gathered that his opponent was a competent man. The fact that he was employing and deploying a emotional boy in this type of situation spoke to a level of desperation. Perhaps the quantum Origin’s departure rattled Viktor that much.

Three tiny impacts broke his train of thought. He glanced down to see three darts sitting at his feet, before looking back and seeing the three all with hands extended as if they had each thrown something.

“Fooled you into dropping your guard, huh?” asked the cocky one, “There’s a deadly poison on the tips of those darts. You stopped focusing on us, and we hit past your stupid armor!”

Charles focused on the area where the darts had hit, realizing that each had found a joint in his armor plates and broken through the tough cloth underneath to his skin. Indeed it was as the rogue said, the darts were poisoned and he felt the substance tickling in his veins. His exceedingly high Fortitude kept him above succumbing to the effects of the poison instantly. His Poison Resistance was already clearing it away.

“Why is he still up?” the third asked, “You said it would kill him instantly.”

“I don’t know. It bypasses Poison Resistance, so he should be!”

“Correction,” Charles called out, “Fortitude is what counts against poisons. If it is high, you will resist it. Poison Resistance, despite the name, is your capability of processes poisons to an inert state.”

“There’s no way some noob in the Tutorial has more stats or skills than us!”

The first rogue charged headfirst at Charles, a poor move for a rogue. Charles moved and blocked his first strike with his shield, then parried the offhand attack that followed. The boy’s speed was impressive, but nowhere near that of Viktor.

“Stop attacking into my shield side,” Charles prompted, “You’ll never get through it and you want to bypass armor as a rogue. Occupy my sword arm or try and get behind me.”

“Shut up you arrogant ass!”

“Like this?” the second rogue asked from behind him.

Charles had to applaud the second’s effort to get there. Were Charles less perceptive, he would not have noticed.

“Better than this one,” Charles laughed, catching the second’s blade aimed at his neck with his gloved hand, his shield no longer present in its grasp.

With his strength alone, Charles ripped the dagger from the assailant’s hand, then spun it around and jammed it back into their hand.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“However, you need to account for what your opponent can do,” Charles added.

He had been defending against the rabid first attacker with one hand while dealing with the second. He turned his attention back to the fight, and fed up with it, decided to end it. He locked the first blade up with his sword before grabbing the offhand attack at the wrist. Tightening his grip, he crushed the one wrist, causing the first rogue to reel back. The movement unlocked their blades and left him vulnerable. Charles took his other hand with his sword, leaving the young man with no functional hands. He ignored the screams as he turned to the third rogue, who had not moved.

“Are we doing this?” Charles asked.

“No. I can see I would end up maimed or die.”

“Smart choice.”

“Hmm. He is a far stronger man than I. I could see that I would not win against him, thus why I joined him.”

“So you’ll join me?”

“No. I cannot trust someone I don’t know.”

Charles rolled his eyes, then with his free hand removed his helmet.

“The merchant?” the rogue asked, surprised.

“It’s Charles.”

“I killed you so many times!” shouted the first rogue past his pains, “What the fu-”

Charles brought a knee to the boy’s jaw, breaking it while also knocking him unconscious.

“I was not myself at that time,” Charles stated, looking with a bit of pity at the boy.

“Clearly.”

A thunderous boom echoed from the fortress, drawing both men’s attention.

“Is that?” asked the rogue.

“It is,” answered Charles.

“Ah. I see. It might be good to see her again, but I think based on this situation she might not appreciate such a reunion.”

“A fair assessment.”

“As such, I will take my leave. Others may not be as generous.”

“I know,” Charles replied, darting forward suddenly, “I’m not that generous either.”

The rogue was shocked to find Charles so close so suddenly and did not react in time. Charles kicked out his knee, shattering it in the process, then punched across his face, knocking him out as well.

“One escaped, but not for long.”

Charles turned to the gate of the fortress.

“How many pieces should I leave it in?”

----------------------------------------

Tess was on a rampage. Many of the doctors and scientists resisted her attempts to destroy their work, and were ruthlessly cut down. Otherwise she smashed terminals, computers, servers, cryochambers, instruments, and anything else she found. She followed that up with flames hot enough to incinerate or slag everything that remained, making a physical recovery of whatever data existed impossible.

With most of the building on fire, Tess was keeping the flames and smoke isolated with her wind magic as she continued deeper. She found what the one woman had referred to as the maturing rooms, and cautiously entered to find the scene exactly as it had been described, yet worse.

The worst part was the handful of doctors hiding within, attempting to use the captured, drugged, and violated women as shields now. Tess wanted to gut them where they stood, but their hostages were an effective deterrent at the moment.

“Let them go. It’s over for you.”

“No way, you crazy bitch,” one dared to say.

Tess pointed at them, envisioning the result that she wanted, and reached inside for the flow of chaos energy. Something inside her twitched in a manner she had not felt before.

“Come on,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

She reached deeper, feeling the energy of chaos washing around the hand in her mind’s eye trying to grab and utilize it. She could see it, touch it, yet it would not obey. At such a critical juncture, she found herself unable to step forward out of fear. She was afraid.

Once she took control of this power, bending the fabric of reality as she saw fit, what would she be? Would she even still be Tess, the helpful master of the Tutorial? She would be like the deities, like the quantum, and yet something else. It was what that something else might be that frightened her.

Here in this moment though, a new thought occurred to Tess: she had always been an outsider. Her father the tanner and mother the town prostitute were shoved to the side of society, and thus so was she. She had been trapped in the Tutorial, not knowing why or how, and watched as others gleefully passed through to new lives and adventures. Even once she did escape, she was rejected by the goddess Oena and cast out with nothing. Though she desired to attach herself to someone, she kept a distance from those who helped her, never really looking back since. Even the children Gwen and Favi, who she had technically adopted, she just dropped with someone else.

She never let anyone get close and never kept anyone close. That was until she confronted her feelings about Charles. It was easy to talk to someone you thought was not listening, not capable of retaining information, nor responding back. It was safe to say that she had grown to love him then, though she had not realized that until recently. He was the only one that she held close at this moment. The only thing that mattered when it came to who she was was what he thought. And he had shown her that whatever she was, it did not matter to him.

Tess plunged her hand into the envisioned current of chaos energy again. This time, it did not wash around, as though avoiding her. Instead it swirled around like a whirlpool, being sucked into her. It crept up her arm and across her body, and for a moment it felt as though she would drown under the density as it filled her very being.

Then she moved it towards her intention. The energy responded and moved. Opening her eyes, she saw the doctors who had been holding the hostages crumble into chunks of flesh and bone, dead before they realized what had happened. It was not quite what she had envisioned, but it worked.

“Let’s get you all out of here,” Tess commented, though none of the entrapped women here were capable of responding at the moment.