If you had asked me how it felt to kill a former ally, I would have smiled and told you it had felt great. Not even a hint of a lie in that statement. Alcohol or drugs always felt great at first until you had slid too far. The Alchemist was a bug in the grand scheme of things. A nuisance easily eradicated, and the world kept on turning. Maybe I would change my tune when the stakes, and the weight, had more significance.

“There, just like I said.” I shrugged as I put the sword on my back. My jaw worked in an attempted avoidance to not lick at the blood sprayed across me.

Jakob threw up.

“It’s from the potion,” Basil waved away my raised eyebrows, “I have healed him, but he will be sick for a while.”

Perhaps a bit presumptuous to think they couldn’t handle a little light decapitation. If they had seen their village attacked and families murdered, then… I shook the thoughts from my head. Sometimes being too apathetic was a curse. An odd revelation.

“I haven’t really set a fire like that before.”

I turned to see the Mage staring at the burning building, her face aglow from the flames. Sometimes my life felt like it was replaying, the looks of burgeoning pyromancy one of the many tells in my tome of learning things the hard way.

“You could probably do better,” I shrugged, “once you learn some control.” Temper the anger, and guide it to becoming sharper.

Her eye twitched as a row of glass containers burst, sending flames of pink flickering within the shell of the once lair. Any remaining homonculae had either given up hope or ran off into the forest. A problem for fledging adventurers in the future.

“Shame there’s no loot,” Florence eventually turned to me. She looked tired. “But… we did it, right?”

My ego wanted to say that it was mostly me - but a Hero didn’t hog all the glory for themselves. Well, they weren’t supposed to. “We just need proof; anyone bring a bag for the head?”

“I… have one…” Jakob convulsed between retching. Despite his anguish, there was somehow a smile on his face.

Of course, we had done it. Almost too easily, it felt. Not many F Ranks were immune to a hefty blade to the neck, especially not aged madmen. The trick was getting close enough, or being lucky enough.

We just had to get back to the town with the evidence of our sanctioned murder, and then we will be granted our Rank Badges and gain new abilities. Then repeat the process until we died or became gods. Most got hung up on the former.

“Victor, if I may?” Basil gestured for me to have a more private word on the side.

I nodded and gave Florence a smile, “Bag the head and watch Jakob; we’ll head off in a minute.”

She returned the smile, but any further thoughts stuck in her throat as she went over to the Ranger. It was probably just overwhelming. The relief of the Quest being completed finally, them being on track for their revenge arc, thankful I brought them to this conclusion. I was contented, but I knew what struggle still lay ahead.

I moved beside my once-butler, and we slowly circled the building.

“Anything wrong?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You saw that Frank recognized you, correct?” He stared off into the burning building impassively.

“I did.” Of course, that was the catalyst for me coming out of that interaction unscathed.

“What happens when someone who isn’t so easily deposed does the same?” He stopped to look into my eyes. There wasn’t worry in his face; he just sought out my intentions.

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“A bridge we will cross when it needs crossing,” I tried to wave him off. “There are plenty of Villains in the world where I shouldn’t need to worry about knowing every one of them.”

“Odds aren’t in your favor, Victor.” He smiled, despite the gloomy statement.

I knew what he was getting at. He had set me down this path like a broken dam and was now testing to see if I truly had thought of all the consequences and ramifications. In truth, I hadn’t. So desperate to experience the luster of life once more, I had been eager to leap away from my old life into new and unfamiliar shoes.

He was asking what happens when my Party catches wind that the Villain of the day knows who I am. Will I be shunned or have to kill them? What happens when we come up against a Villain that I actually care about? That seemed far enough away not to be an immediate concern. Once we had a Rank, we would have more choice of what Quests to take on - I shouldn’t be forced into fighting friends or family anytime soon. Internally I rolled my eyes at the use of those terms.

“Let’s take each day at a time,” I nodded slowly towards him, “live this new life for what it is worth.”

“Very well, Victor. I stand with you.”

“Let’s get back to the humans and the town.”

For their age, they were not as disappointing as I had expected. Another decade of not dying, and they would be impressive Heroes. I’d keep them around, at least until we had killed that Troll. Whether they still had the stomach for being a Hero after that remained to be seen. Villains were often selfishness personified, and Heroes were meant to be the opposite. Selfless and giving, suffering in the pursuit of the eradication of evil so that the general populace could sleep easily.

It was a lot easier for a Hero to turn bad than for a Villain to turn good. As always, there were exceptions to the rules - but it seemed easier to gravitate to vice and misery when your life was unending violence.

“Doing better now, Jakob?” I asked as we rounded back to the front of the building. The beams supporting the roof cracked and collapsed, sending embers and smoke up into the high canopy of the area.

“I’ve had worse,” he grinned but was still hunched over a larger puddle of vomit than last I looked.

“If you’re able to walk, then we are ready to head out.” I nodded to Florence. I don’t think I had nodded so much ever in my life - when did I become so agreeable?

Jakob stood with a deep sigh, his stomach muscles convulsing against the act - but as Basil cast another healing spell, the tension within him lessened. “We never had a healer before; I could get used to this.”

“No wonder your Parties previously failed then,” Basil tutted as he put his book away in the clasped holster.

The idea of a Party was to have your weaknesses strengthened by others. A healer made a lot of sense when you were going into battle unless you had some other way to regenerate. “How were your other Parties arranged?” I offered an arm for the Ranger to stabilize himself as we began to walk away from the lair.

Florence seemed taken aback by this action, but after fiddling with her hair, sought out the memories in her head. “First one, there were two Fighters and a Rogue. Second was a Ranger and a Fighter.”

Not terrible compositions, to be fair. As adventurers, as long as you had someone on the frontline and a couple of damage dealers, then you’d be able to work your way around most threats. Mages and Clerics were like gold dust, however. Any Class that worked with magic or divine energy was rare by nature and had their pick of Parties if they wanted to fulfill that adventuring fantasy. A lot went into other, less fatal, occupations.

“We are short a fifth,” I eventually mused once we were out of the glow and heat of the Alchemist’s ruined lair. “What kind of Class do you think we should look out for?”

“If we need a fifth, right?” Florence furrowed her brows. “I mean, we could do okay as we are?”

For a headstrong pyromaniac, the woman seemed somewhat resistant to change. Another member might rock the boat, and ruin the good thing we had going on. I appreciated that line of thinking but couldn’t ignore their intrusion into my intended duo. “We won’t seek another out, but through fate should the right person find us…”

“Fair,” she shrugged. “I suppose then, another melee class would help out. You’re an excellent Fighter-to-be, Victor,” she looked off into the woods, “but the more angry steel between us backliners and the sharp edge of evil, the better.”

“Poetic.” I smiled, mostly taking the compliment from her sentence as the important part.

The Ranger was now well enough to walk unaided and poked his head in between us to join the conversation. “Flo used to write a lot of-“

“Jakob!” she seethed and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. He snorted at the attempt of an attack; perhaps the furthest his stoic attitude had gone towards breaking.

Basil smiled and raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh! An artist amongst our ranks, how delightful. Despite his appearance, Victor is quite a patron of the-“

“Basil!” I rolled my eyes. “You do not pluck shy flowers with an axe, should Florence wish to share at some stage; that is her prerogative.” I gave a half bow towards her in a manner of apology.

It looked as though she wished she could crumple up and die from the embarrassment.

I looked out to the darkening woods. Perhaps we were now about to get the due rain; we had not been traveling enough for the sun to be-

My feet stopped, and I slowly turned around to see the shadowed figure standing amongst the trees behind us.

“Take the head and run,” I whispered to the humans, as a cold shiver ran down my spine.