Chapter 52: A Shade of Gray
TRISTAN
“Sorry kid, I’ve figured you out now.”
The moment Tristan heard the words, he knew the big finisher Shadow had mentioned was coming, the one he’d been building toward the whole fight. So when his opponent rushed toward him for the first time in what felt like ages, there was only one real course of action.
He used [Combat Switch] to exchange his [Oozebane Greatsword] for [Hope’s Aspiration], and right as Shadow closed into melee, he activated [Brightshield].
[Brightshield] (Unique) Gain a temporary shield that negates the next source of damage that would otherwise harm the user. While the skill or shield is active, the user glows with dim white light. The shield cannot be activated again until the light has been replenished.
Shadow’s brilliantly glowing dagger plunged straight into Tristan’s now-shining chest with so much power it melted the center of his breastplate as it pierced straight through it.
Tristan screamed. He still felt the point pierce his flesh, felt the power that should have ended his life even as it dispersed into a familiar warmth that flooded his body. He felt all these things, but his health never so much as twitched.
He could see from Shadow’s shocked expression, as the man shuffled backward to regain his footing, that this was something even he hadn’t thought was possible. The man who claimed to know more about the realm than any other could still be surprised.
There was a moment’s hesitation as the glow surrounding both combatants was extinguished. A pause just long enough for Tristan to pull back and set his feet again.
He’d survived. He felt a surge of confidence.
“Guess you didn’t know everything after all,” he quipped. Then, as [Combat Switch] once again brought his [Oozebane Greatsword] to bear, he began his assault anew.
Shadow, for his part, snapped out of his shock with Tristan’s words. His eyes widened in wonder, even as they flitted all around, clearly scanning for clues. “How did you do that?”
Greatsword and daggers clashed as Tristan worked hard to overcome his opponent’s speed, but he still could not find an opening anywhere.
“Was that more quest fuckery? Or was that you? How long is the cooldown on that?” Shadow asked, deflecting Tristan’s [Cleaving Slash] with one hand while throwing the dagger in the other.
Tristan ducked to the side at the last instant. “It’s all me,” he answered with pride. Hoping to intimidate his opponent, he added, “No cooldown.”
“So it’s got to be recharged then,” Shadow said with a smirk. “Whatever it costs, it’s worth it. But, here’s another little tip, just in case you do survive today: don’t ever tell your opponents your weaknesses.”
Weaknesses? Tristan thought, before he realized that he’d just shared that he wouldn’t have his [Brightshield] up again for this fight. Tristan blocked a few dagger thrusts as he backpedaled. “I won’t need it.”
“Oh, here comes the confidence again. But kid, since I offered you the deal, you still haven’t hit me, have you?” Shadow tsked. “So you’re still just treading water--now down your big, cool ability--while I'm rebuilding [Insight].”
Slowly, the two circled each other, crunching the deadened grass beneath them. It was cat and mouse, give and take, and all sorts of other games--but Tristan didn’t feel that he was winning any of them.
After a near hit, when Tristan’s sword vanished again into the half-elf’s pitch-black cloak, Shadow smiled and immediately used his escape skill to blink back a few feet. “Thanks for the reset,” he said.
Tristan felt the wind begin to pick up against his skin. He could see Shadow’s eyes had grown distant.
These were the warning signs before his last [Shadow Nova]!
He remembered how badly that had gone last time, how much health he’d lost. And this was something Shadow could continue to do? Tristan was feeling more and more aware of the tier difference between them. How was he going to end this fight?
Tristan rushed forward, unsure whether he could cover enough ground to get to the bladeweaver before the blast, but knowing he had to try. Tristan guessed he had mere seconds left, but when the wind increased in intensity again, he knew he wasn’t close enough. He knew if he went for Shadow now, he would take a lethal blast from the darkness before he ever got there.
He slammed his sword into the ground, flat edge facing Shadow, and he prayed. An instant later, a dome of darkness raced outward, engulfing everything once again.
But the fact that it was happening again was important. Tristan has seen and survived it once before. He'd learned from it, including one detail he could use, something that has prompted his seemingly futile dash forward.
He knew how long [Shadow Nova] lasted.
Moments before the attack would end, while Shadow was still locked into the skill, Tristan used his blade to vault forward. He immediately felt his health begin to plummet. Through the darkness, he stretched out his legs, giving no heed to the blackness eating away at them.
Until one foot kicked Shadow in the chest.
Tristan crashed to the ground, in critical health yet again. The roaring wave of darkness receded, until only a light breeze washed over him. His eyes fought to stay open, especially as his whole vision was ringed with red.
He could see that his sword was no longer stuck in the ground but had been knocked completely over. It now lay much too far from his hands to be any kind of consideration. The fight was all but over.
“You truly are insane,” Shadow said, standing over him. Tristan could see the man following his gaze, before he shook his head. “You can’t even stand, and you’re still thinking of fighting. Jamal must love you.”
Tristan wanted to say something, but his lips didn’t seem to be working properly. None of his body did.
Shadow knelt down over him. “You hit me, you know. You actually hit me, you absolute maniac.” He laughed. Then he pulled out a vial of something from within his cloak and poured its contents into Tristan’s mouth. A new warmth spread throughout Tristan’s body immediately, and the red ring around his vision vanished.
Tristan heard Shadow's quiet, patient footfalls as they moved away from him, walking over toward where the fallen greatsword lay.
“This is now the second time I haven’t killed you.”
Tristan shifted his eyes enough to see Shadow picking up his sword and examining it.
“There might not be a third. Though, bloody gods, this is fascinating. Who are you?”
Whatever potion Shadow had given him was slowly restoring his health. He couldn’t tell how much he would gain from it, but the 60-minute buff called “Replenishment” showed how long it would last. Regardless, it was nice not to have his vision stained red, and his arms were starting to feel mostly whole again. With a sizable effort--and no small amount of pain--he was able to prop himself up. Then he twisted, or rather pulled, around enough that his craned neck could see Shadow: he was worried about what might happen to his sword.
Shadow must have seen the panic in his eyes. “I’m not going to take it, kid, calm down. I just--You must really think I’m this evil monster.”
“Aren’t you?” Tristan struggled to ask while rising, but his arms gave out, and he fell back to the ground again. He stared down at his body, realizing just how injured he was. There was blood everywhere, and a few pieces of him were at odd angles, though thankfully still connected.
He also realized how concerning it was that he still hadn't really felt all those injuries. There had to be something numbing the pain.
Shadow shook his head at Tristan before lobbing the sword high into the air. It fell and sank safely into the ground a bit beyond Tristan’s reach. “I don’t just go around killing heroes for no reason.” He tossed Tristan the empty vial as if in support of his claim. “See me here, right now, not killing you? Again? I dare say I saved your life today from a quest that should have ended you.”
Tristan scoffed, but with his back lying flat on the ground, he wasn’t sure it sounded right. “Until you get the next quest to kill another one?”
Shadow’s response was immediate and calm. “It’ll depend on the terms. Though I’ve actually refused every offer from that employer since then.”
“THEN WHY DID YOU KILL BRIGHTSHIELD?” Tristan screamed, unable to control the outburst.
“It was my Path, kid. And a damn good contract. Look at your own Path quest. It has you here facing unthinkable odds trying to kill me, right? That's no different from what mine was like. The amount of preparation and planning that went into finding the first weakness of a true legend? My Path hadn't been so thankful, so satisfied in... even I can't remember how long! Then I got to put it all into action, cultivating a perfect strategy for a team that had no business sharing a room, let alone a task so ‘impossible.’ Three levels, kid. I gained three levels from the quest alone! Do you know how long it takes to level once at my tier? It can take years, decades if you stagnate. When the juice is that worth the squeeze, when your Path is begging you to do it, when you can prove the unimaginable can be done... not just to yourself, but to the whole world? Wouldn't you do it? I would. It's my Path.”
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The way he talked about his Path, the way he seemed to embrace it, felt very familiar to Tristan. It was also strange, since their Paths were clearly so very different, but for the first time, Tristan felt like he actually understood Shadow, at least in part. He’d been staring at the half-elf’s name for so long in his quest list, but now... What would Tristan have done if he had been offered an opportunity like that quest?
Hadn’t he already? Here he was, afterall. Against even the advice of his mentor. And for what?
Something else occurred to Tristan: it wasn’t impossible to think that Shadow might be important to someone else.
Tristan hadn't even considered that either. He'd just been blinded by his own motivations.
He straightened out his legs, hoping it would help the potion’s rejuvenation heal him faster. After that, however, he finally allowed his fingers to pull toward and touch the edge of his greatsword, which was once again firmly lodged in the ground. “I think I understand. I have my quest, too,” he said at last. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll forgive what you did.”
The way Shadow looked at him then was odd, because Tristan could have sworn he saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“You do you, kid. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I don’t have any regrets about what I did. It’s not like I’m running around mass-murdering everyone I come across. I didn’t kill you, and you tried your gods-be-damned hardest to give me reason. If that isn’t enough for you in the future, it should be enough for now, while your life is literally in my hands.” He sighed and looked Tristan over again, as if checking something. “You know, we aren’t that different, you and I. We’re dedicated to our Paths in a way that few others are. How else would you be standing here, trying to fight someone two tiers above you?
“So even if it means you’re going to chase me down again in a few more years, I made you a deal, and I’m going to hold true to it. You hit me, so, bloody gods, I’ll give you one honest answer before I’m going to just walk away. Alright? I’ll leave you here. The potion should keep you alive.”
“But why?” Tristan blurted out before thinking better of wasting his opportunity. “Wait, no. What is your Path?”
Shadow smiled at him then. “Usually I’d tell you it’s rude to ask and to mind your own damn business. But you know, I kind of like you. And I did say one answer. So: my Path is about knowledge. Planning. Preparation. To see beyond what might be and know for certain what is.”
Tristan’s eyes felt very heavy. “And you walk this Path by killing people?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?” Tristan asked, feeling himself on the brink of exhausted sleep. His eyes gazed upward at the clean, clear sky.
“Because killing cleanly usually takes a lot of investigating and planning. And, I’m really, really good at it. I want to keep advancing, and sometimes that means killing people. Good ones. Bad ones too. I’ve made my choices, Tristan. Every Path is valid.”
Tristan barely turned his head, hating how stiff his neck felt. For the first time, he actually wondered if the potion might also have had a sedative in it. He heard the sounds of Shadow’s boots walking away across the dead grass. Tristan had one last question to ask first though.
“And if I come back someday?”
The footsteps paused only long enough for the {Legendslayer} to say, “Then that’s on you, kid. I’d probably do the same. You’ve got to walk your own Path.”
Two more steps later, Shadow added. “But if you should choose to continue on, I’d recommend you aim for someone else next, and well, with that sword of yours, I’d go for Venom. He was in Lugarest, last I saw. In a home for troubled teens.” Tristan heard the half-elf spit with clear distaste. “And Tristan, just so you know, he’s a {Defiler}. He’s got it coming with or without your quest.”
- - - - -
Tristan had no idea how long he lay there, other than it was longer than an hour. He fell asleep at some point, and the replenishment buff was gone when he reawakened. His body still ached, but checking his health, he had nearly half of it back.
“Tristan!” came a familiar voice from a short distance away. “Oh, thank the gods you’re awake at last! I was really worried! So was Mister Biggs.”
Sophie’s smiling face came immediately into view as she bent low over him. She had one arm around Mister Bigg’s mane, and the big astral bear’s rumbled whimper proved he shared her concern.
He just didn’t understand how she was there. “Sophie? But...” He lifted his head enough to look around them, and they were clearly still in the center of the bleached grass outside of Whiteholme. “How in the gods’ names did you find me?”
The dark-haired girl offered him a hand, though he only went to a seated position. He could tell it would hurt way too much to try standing so soon.
“Well, I started by going to Jamal’s house just as we had originally planned, but apparently you had already run off to go on to Whiteholme on some fool’s errand to try and murder someone capable of killing Hesden Brightshield? That’s what {The Unerring Blade} said at least. Luckily, some of the villagers had seen your chase out of town. Why didn’t you just let him go, by the way? What could have possibly possessed you to do something so idiotic?”
Tristan thought back to his decision, and all the considerations he’d made. He didn’t regret what he’d done, though he suspected few others would understand. So he looked up at her and said, simply, “It’s my Path.”
Above them both, Mister Biggs was the first to move, actually nodding his bear-like head in what Tristan chose to interpret as approval, possibly even respect.
Sophie, on the other hand, just stared at him for a long while. “Gods among us,” she finally said, “you’re going to try again, aren’t you? Tristan, you can’t! You’re lucky to be alive!”
For a while, Tristan pondered what she’d said. He knew it was more than just luck that he was still here. Sure, he’d fought his hardest opponent yet, but he'd also trained hard and been at least fairly prepared for... Well, not enough to win, clearly, but a lot. And while luck had certainly helped, he’d also pushed himself harder than ever before. Ultimately, he’d survived. That was what mattered, right?
As for her question--Would he try again?--he wasn’t sure. Something like it had been drifting through his mind ever since Shadow had given him the potion and spared his life. He'd been outmatched, but then given another chance. How did he want to use it?
He made a decision. Consequences be damned. “I don’t think I will,” he told her.
“Thank the gods--” she breathed.
Before she could say any more, he cut her off. “I won’t go for him, at least.”
Because somehow, in the moments while he’d been lying near death on the scorched grass, he’d come to understand the enlightened bladeweaver, at least a little. And while Tristan had not quite forgiven Shadow, he now understood that the half-elf hadn’t ever been anything as simple as “evil,” despite his name, despite half his attacks being darkness-themed. The half-elf had been a shade of gray all along.
That realization was accompanied by a sudden swirl of black energy surrounding him. It wasn’t quite like a level-up, but it had a similar tingling feel. This energy converged on him from all around before funneling into a thin string that flowed into the center of his chest. Right into his scar.
He had a new notification, which he opened immediately:
[Path Quest updated: Avenge the Brightshield]
Find and deal with each member of the party that killed Hesden Brightshield. Targets’ locations will only be provided when you are in the same zone. Remaining targets:
Curse
Red Blade
Shadow
Timetwister
Venom
As your targets are higher tier than you, you will be shielded from their detection until you reveal yourself or attack.
Additional objectives may be unlocked.
Rewards: Achievement, Smart Loot
Shadow’s name was grayed out, now barely visible, and struck through. For a moment, Tristan was dumbstruck. He reread the quest text, and at last he understood. “Find and deal with” it said. I don’t have to kill them all. I may not have to kill any of them. I just have to come to an understanding.
Honestly, he appreciated that. His quest, like his Path, didn’t need to spill blood. He wasn’t as similar to Shadow as he feared. There was an opportunity for a different way, and that mattered. Even if he ended up killing the rest of them, he would at least have the choice.
Sophie was snapping her fingers in front of his face when he finally zoned back into the world around him. “Tristan? Tristan! Gods, I thought you were gone again. What was that? What just happened?”
Tristan managed to rise all the way to his feet at last and smiled down at her as he told her the good news. “My quest updated,” he said. “I’m done with Shadow after all. Only four remain.”
He limped over to his sword and tried to pull it from the ground. It took him multiple attempts, because apparently whatever Shadow had done had wedged it in extremely deeply--or, more likely, he was just really weak at the moment.
The minute he pulled it out, he got another notification:
Congratulations! The swordsman Class has reached LEVEL 7!
Skills Earned:
[Strength Up I] is already known, upgrading to [Strength Up II]
[Strength Up II] A passive skill that grants the user a 20% increase to Strength. Skills that scale exclusively off of Strength receive double this bonus.
It almost felt comical that he gained more Strength after struggling to move his own sword. On the other hand, he would never complain about another stat boost. Strength especially was one of his best stats, used in both crafting and combat. With the 10% bonus increasing to 20%, his Strength was now only a single point shy of his Endurance, which was still his highest stat at 58.
Standing beside him, Sophie’s jaw dropped. “You got another level just from losing a fight?” She threw her head back and growled at the sky. “Gods, why does every other Class have it so much easier?!”
Tristan smiled, both at his own growth and his friend’s mock frustration. It was clear she wasn’t truly mad. “Thanks for coming to find me.”
“Save you,” Sophie corrected, looking past him to Mister Biggs, who had taken up a spot at Tristan’s elbow, clearly offering his support. “We actually had to fend off a few wild animals while you were out. But beyond even that, what else could I do? Sneakers and Mister Biggs would have missed you if you’d died, and Poof would have never forgiven me.”
Tristan leaned gently into the massive tank’s furry flank, giving a few pats too. “Yeah? Well, then I owe you even more. You put yourself at risk, too, for me. That's... seriously, thanks.”
“You’re welcome, obviously,” Sophie replied, running her own hands through Mister Bigg’s flowing mane.
Then they began the slow, painful (for Tristan) journey back toward civilization. Sophie and Mister Biggs both walked beside him the whole way, supporting him each time he faltered. And though the sun was sinking below the horizon when they finally made it all the way back to Whiteholme, Tristan still counted it a good--no, an unironically blessed--day.
He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he had friends. And a quest.
Shadow had given him the next name to pursue: Venom. And a direction. The enlightened bladeweaver had all but asked Tristan to kill the man.
And he said it like he thought I already could.
With a curious smile, he turned to the younger girl who knew so much more about the world than he did and asked, “So, what can you tell me about the {Defiler} title?”