I took a quick shower after ripping off my awful shirt. I didn’t see what I put on after that, there’s no way it could be worse… I gave in and checked it.

‘Inspector Catseau’ with a graphic of a cat with a fedora and oversized spyglass. I breathed out in relief. Much better. Although, maybe I should stop by a clothing store at some point since the shirts were both terrible, and treading dangerously close to ‘crop-top’ territory. I slipped on the, almost shockingly durable, tattered leather jacket and strapped my shield back on my arm.

I debated purchasing ‘Oathbreaker’, but I was planning on delivering the Usurper during dinner. I also didn’t want to spend 4 Feat Points on something I wasn’t going to need. All my points were basically sunk into stuff at this point and I really needed to do some Feats. I had a feeling that I’d be earning again shortly.

I reviewed Pookie’s Oath. Thankfully, whatever negotiating we had done seemed to be iron-tight, at least for my purposes. I’d just have to make sure to be far FAR away at the end of 24-hours. I looked at my watch, 22 hours now. And some change. I’d rather play it safe. And while a bit overly-philosophical, Pookie didn’t seem to be a welcher. I couldn’t necessarily say that Morrigan gave me the same feeling.

I kept my shotgun in hand and stepped out of my room. I took a right to enjoy the sunset and bask in the feeling of my still flagging Fortitude start to really accelerate its return. Some sort of Light Affinity interaction? I wasn’t completely topped off, I was actually very far from being anywhere near topped off, but it’d be enough. Hopefully.

Footsteps behind me.

“Dinner Time?”

“Yes.”

I turned and followed Vivi through twists and turns until we came to a somewhat unassuming door.

She opened it, entered, then announced, “Sir Thomas is here.”

“Excellent. Sir Thomas, if you would join us?”

Finish the Oath, get my shit, get Pookie in here to hunt down Meredith and get her out of here.

I entered the same dining room we had eaten dinner in the night before. Tonight, there was no food. I moved to stand behind the end of the table, opposite of Morrigan who was lounging in his seat at the head of the table.

Standing to his left was Vivi. Sitting in the nearest chair to his right was Jon. Across from Jon and to Morrigan’s left was Tracey. Mark sat next to Tracey. Ron was sitting next to Jon.

I rested the tip of my shotgun against the table with a solid thump, permanently damaging the nice finish on this outrageously expensive table. I saw Morrigan wince and I tried not to smile.

“So, I assume you requested my presence for some useful reason?”

I nodded, “Yes. The murders have been… well shit. Basically everyone in this room has killed someone.” I put up a hand to stop Ron’s protests.

“Except Ron, at least, I think.” He settled back into his seat.

“Is that it?” Aka, that’s not what I asked you to find out. I was well aware of that fact now. It had never been about finding out the murderer. Usurper and Murderer were two distinct differences and I had still been conflating the two. I had already realized that, but I should have internalized it earlier.

Another thing I had been doing the same thing with the Penitent System. I wanted to forget it for a few days in this ‘little slice of paradise’, but the fact remained that it was and would be an essential factor of our world for however long that we had left. The world had changed and this was something that needed to be integrated into it.

Realizing something didn’t mean anything if I didn’t change my behavior because of it.

My minimap showed Tracey’s grey dot, but it was a bit different than the others now. Inside of the gray was a smaller red dot. Ah…

Description: Historic Entity Tracking; Persistent Aspects

It made sense now, that settled some things. The others’ gray dots were all tinged with a bit of a red hue. That was nice, being able to see the level of hostility. I didn’t know if that meant as of this moment or how they’d been in the past. What I did know now was that Tracey had tried to kill me.

It was kind of a pain in the ass to not know what an upgrade would do, but at least you got to know what you've purchased. At least, most of the time.

In the same moment I fully accepted that my Mental Health Week™ had been a colossal failure alongside my desire to get some time away from the Penitent System bullshit. I wouldn’t give up on my Mental Health Days but I accepted that I wouldn’t ever get away from the Penitent System. It was really the only way I’ve managed to stay alive this long.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

I’d been approaching this whole thing entirely the wrong way. I’d been trying to solve this like I was some old-world noir detective. I had video game skills, and video game skills trivialized some things. I was dumb to not take advantage of these.

“The Usurper is…” I saw a red flicker.

“...Tracey!”

Her face looked confused and she looked at me, “What? No, I’m not. Idiot.”

I didn’t think she was, after all, my Oath was still strong, what stuck out was how she even ‘knew’ about the Usurper. The red flash I saw in unison with that confirmed some things. I knew I had two guesses, total, before the Oath was in serious risk of breaking.

I chuckled, “Sorry, that was a bad joke. It’s Jon.”

He turned red on my Mini-Map and before he could think about flinching, both barrels of my shotgun were directly pointed at his face.

The obligation tied to my end of the Oath settled and solidified. Balancing real world stuff and video game logic was difficult, but I was tired of playing this particular game. I’m just an average guy, I’m not that fucking clever, especially for all this hoity-toity, blue-blood, murder-mystery, film noir bullshit. Video game rules, video game cheats.

Ron gave Morrigan a question with a glance, then nodded and went behind Jon. Tracey snapped her fingers and a rotating spike of ice joined to point itself directly at Jon.

“Why Jon? Why would you want to Usurp me?”

He laughed, “Why not, you arrogant prick?”

Morrigan tsked and swept up, Ron pulled suspender Jon up heavily to his feet. The last to leave were Tracey and Vivi as they followed Morrigan from the room.

I yelled, “Wait! What about the armor!”

Morrigan stopped outside of the door and yelled back, “Mark, would you show our dear knight his reward?”

“No problem Master Morrigan.”

My eyes narrowed but Mark’s icon was still gray.

He grunted, “Follow me.”

We went through door after hallway until I was almost sure he was misleading me somewhere. That was, until we entered a familiar scene. The kitchen.

He stopped and only the fact that his icon turned red a moment before he turned around saved me from taking a fish deboning knife in my throat. I leapt backwards and fired the shotgun but he was gone before the pellets had a chance to greet him.

“Always knew you were an asshole.”

“That’s rich coming from you, what kind of dickhead salts a Michelin-starred chef’s food?”

“Whose family did you kidnap to get that star?”

I drew my sword while I had the threat of another shotgun shell to back me up. It was a bit awkward to hold both but it’d have to do.

Creepy prick. I dodged a couple of knives that took long parabolic arcs from different points. I couldn’t see him as I continued to duck under thrown knives while looking for a clean shot. He was throwing a fuckload of cutlery my way and I know that thrown knives don’t travel like these ones were.

What was that an Affinity??

Magnetism? Maybe, but who knows. I probably could have pushed them away with my own Raw Will but coming at me from a distance of 10-20 feet, they were easy enough to dodge. My Fortitude tank was not in good enough shape to start burning through it now.

Another blade whistled through the air and I ducked and raised my shotgun. I had a shot. I pulled the trigger and a cast iron pan flung itself in the way of my barrel. It knocked aside and Mark closed fast.

I didn’t have time to take a step and rush him, shield up. I bashed at a cleaver swing to make some space then brought my sword down in an arc. It caught on his other cleaver and something bit into my side. He corrected faster than I could, I couldn’t beat the inside speed of short knives. I burst out enough Will to knock him back. Another knife that was on its way into my side dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Fuck. What was I doing? I was having trouble focusing. I should probably kill Mark. Yeah, that sounded good. I drew my pistol and unloaded 3 shots in a row, he took one and staggered back before the second pinged close to his head. I missed the third as a stock pot impacted the side of my head and sent me spinning to a half crouch.

I forced myself up and he dived behind a kitchen counter to resume throwing everything metallic and throwable my way, now including the pots and pans. I guess he had been saving the cookware as a trump card for my shotgun.

A pan’s handle caught my arm, then another knife dug into my arm. I crouched low and silently moved into a corner. Not hard to do with the pots and pans clattering all around.

The cutlery was steadily missing now that I wasn’t standing there and taking it like an asshole. I waited.

He’d have to- There!

His head popped up to see where I was and I fired off another shot as he ducked back below the metal countertop. I moved around the far side of a parallel counter to build some distance between us. I had the advantage of range and reloaded a few rounds back into my revolver then turned the corner to stalk him.

The kitchen had too many counters and islands, we were playing a really shitty version of hide and seek. If there was an opportunity to mash his face on a hot stove I would be taking it.

I crouch-sprinted around a corner and a knife whistled past where my head had just been. Of course my shitty sense of direction would fail me, even now.

I debated turning around the other corner, but long experience of CoD 1v1 mind games had me go back the way he had just sent that knife.

I got the drop and unloaded, he took a hit as a burst of red splattered the white wall behind him. Still he managed to send another knife my way that I caught on my shield.

A flurry of knives, blades, steak knives, and other utensils floated above him and I put the essential parts of my body behind my shield and Rushed. My shield stopped the metal rain but he directed a few on wide enough arcs to sink in. Nothing critical as the distance evaporated between us and I plugged him in the leg again and held my sword’s point at his throat.

“If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

His pained and bloody-toothed grin didn’t match the fact that I was about to stab this dude in the fucking throat.

Finally, a clue from my subconscious rose to my conscious attention.

Where did that new shadow come from?

I twisted and managed to see something driving toward my head the instant before it impacted. I managed to avoid a direct skull crush as I turned into the new person attacking me and took a hit from the hilt of the weapon. I tried to shove them to the ground, but it was Ron. So that did not work.

Motherfucker, I thought we were bros. I slashed out and my blade cut deep into his arm before he stabbed out his club and the tips of the prongs stabbed into my gut and sent me to the ground. I pulled my gun up but a frying pan blocked my shots before I slashed across and the tip of my sword found itself trapped in a cooking pot. I scrambled back as Ron cracked the ground where my crotch had just been.

I continued to scramble and could only rely on Bulwark and my new Shield skill as I tanked Ron’s lateral strike directly on my shield. It sent me sprawling into a cabinet. I spun up to see Mark’s toothy bloody grin before a coal-black cast-iron frying pan was already making its acquaintance with my head.