Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 18.1, 18.2

"On the right," Katarina warned. "Pickpocket."

Simon immediately stepped leftwards, glancing discreetly at an unassuming girl trudging down the streets of Caelryn City. "You're positive?"

"Yes. Clear as day."

Not to me. He would've needed to use Identify or Sin Scry to pick thieves out of the crowd, and that wasn't feasible when the crowds were this densely-packed.

Caelryn City was much larger than Springwater Village, its sprawling pathways filled with people from many different walks of life. You could've fit twenty Springwaters into Caelryn and had room left over to spare. Unlike Springwater, the infrastructure in Caelryn also appeared mostly well-kept; there were few buildings on the verge of collapse.

It all felt incongruent to the barren wasteland just outside the city's front gates. As if the populace had sensed Valtia's impending ruination and congregated here en masse, building up a last bastion of relief for the coming end times. Whereas Springwater had been a place of decay and decline, scarcely clinging to relevance, Caelryn was...

Still rotting from inside – but with a shiny coat of fresh paint slapped on top. While the people here were somewhat better-fed, they barely looked any happier, walking with rigid postures and nervous, shifting gazes. Like tightly-wound cords ready to snap at the drop of a hat.

Simon was accustomed to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Seeing streets full of hurried people on-the-go was nothing new. Even so, Caelryn gave off a distinct vibe compared to what he'd grown up with. It took him a couple minutes of observation to pin down exactly why that was.

There's no safety nets. On Earth, you could be broke, starving, and at absolute rock-bottom, yet it still might be possible to claw yourself back up. Social programs existed to help those currently incapable of helping themselves. They weren't perfect – those safety nets were often more the illusion of safety than something substantial – but at least they were there.

Valtia didn't have any of that. It was every man and woman for themself. Food, money, and empathy were all dying resources. If you stumbled at rock bottom, and no friends or family were willing to catch you...

You weren't getting up again.

Simon's eyes widened as he watched that unassuming girl from before snatch a coinpurse from someone's waist. The man was skinny and wearing bedraggled clothing, with deep-dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes. He literally couldn't afford to lose that much.

When the man belatedly noticed that he'd been robbed, he cried out as if the girl had slipped a knife into his heart, chasing after her as they vanished into the crowd. By the time Simon moved to act, both of them were already long gone.

The transmigrator was the only one who'd bothered to move at all. To everyone else, this was a routine occurrence, mere background noise. They wouldn't have acted even if blood had been drawn.

"Reminiscence comes in many forms," Katarina muttered, her sharp eyes searching for more potential assailants. "I'd hoped that mine would feel less bitter when I eventually returned to Caelryn. Alas, the city is precisely as I remembered it."

Simon tried to follow her gaze, then gave up. To replicate her two decades of ingrained experience, he would've needed to Identify multiple people per second, and he simply couldn't read that fast. "Out of curiosity, if you had to choose between living here or Springwater, which would you pick?"

"Is flinging myself into the nearest ditch an option?"

He hummed in assent. "Least we saw some green on the way in. That was a refreshing change of pace."

The land's mana degradation had become less pronounced as Simon and Katarina traveled closer to Caelryn City. Tufts of defiant grass sometimes poked up from beneath dry, arid rock. Patches of green would break up the wasteland like splotches of paint on a gray canvas. More and more, life could be seen fighting back against a vast sea of encroaching entropy.

And just outside the city proper, the land had even recovered enough to house several farms. Farms! With crops and everything. Simon had been told about it in advance, yet after weeks in Valtia, the sight still managed to make his jaw drop.

Naturally, those farms weren't nearly sufficient to feed an entire city. The bulk of their produce was grown in specialized greenhouses within Caelryn. For rural villages like Springwater, all of it was – another reason why the loss of their sole Water Artifact had been a death sentence.

Would be a death sentence, in six months.

"How much farther?" Simon asked, attempting to distract himself. "I'm interested to meet the lucky person you're recommending to me."

"Not far, but let's stop for now."

"Why?"

"Because you have questions burning your lips, and it'll be easier for me to respond if my attention isn't split between answering you and watching for pickpockets."

Simon's Inventory allowed them to safely hide their valuables from grabbing hands, but they couldn't let themselves be seen as unaware or oblivious. Even in large cities, rumors spread fast, and nothing was more enticing than a pair of hapless out-of-towners.

Katarina chose a spot that was relatively secluded – yet not too secluded – and sat with her back to the wall. Streaks of dried blood were visible on the stone. She didn't seem to care.

"Better," she breathed, relaxing slightly. "Still need to stay alert, but it's easier when we aren't walking."

Simon sat down next to her. "You make for a good guide."

"Well, you're 'paying' me in shared Experience. I'd best earn my keep." She aimed a wry stare at him. "So. Caelryn City. As splendid as you envisioned?"

He looked out at the streets, a dozen societal reforms that he desperately wanted to implement springing to mind. "More or less."

"I've heard that the merchant and noble districts are much nicer than what you see here. They're nicer in every city, but the contrast is markedly apparent in Caelryn."

Katarina narrowed her eyes. "Pier Helmund frequents those sectors, after all. Can't have the Duke's own son feeling aghast at the state of things. Perish the thought."

Simon took note of that. "So the nobility doesn't pay attention to what happens in the lower districts?"

"Not particularly. Just bouts of idle nosiness. Occasionally a bored upstart will come traipsing through – surrounded by their personal guard retinue – as if exploring the lower districts was some sort of grand adventure."

She grimaced. "If anything, I think they enjoy gazing upon the squalor. Reminds them of how far above they are over the rest of us."

Simon felt conflicted about that. One one hand, it was a disgusting, repugnant attitude to hold.

On the other hand, it meant that the people in power wouldn't notice if an unusual number of lower-district criminals went missing.

Speaking of... "Are you sure we've chosen the right target?"

Katarina tensed up. "Why? You told me that you needed to kill in order to get stronger. Do you doubt my judgement?"

The incident with Irving had confirmed that merely 'defeating' someone in combat didn't yield EXP. Apart from a deep sense of satisfaction, punching the man into submission hadn't produced any tangible rewards. Deathless violence wouldn't increase Simon's Level.

For a transmigrator to grow, the reaper's toll had to be paid.

Heroic Valor was the only other alternative...and it just wasn't as effective or consistent. Donating supplies to the wounded Springwater soldiers hadn't even been enough to raise Simon to his next Level. The Skill also refused to give him bonus EXP for setting Irving straight, though he could understand why it would be hesitant to reward threats and mutilation.

A lot of the gods' system feels at odds with what they're trying to accomplish, Simon pondered. The gods of Good wished for him to be a hero that brought salvation to Valtia, yet their system directly incentivized slaughter. Ideally, he would be slaying villainous ne'er-do-well who totally deserved it, but that wasn't guaranteed. Shouldn't the system put more of a focus on performing acts of valor and heroism?

Two explanations came to mind. The first was that the current version of the system wasn't what the gods of Good had wanted, either. He knew that behind the scenes, they were engaged in a vicious proxy war with Evil, carving out deals as if their words were blades. Any deficiencies in the system could be attributed to concessions made to the opposing gods.

Otherwise, Voice-In-The-Sky would've just rigged it so that Simon started at Level 1000 and saved Valtia in no time flat. Above all else, they wanted him to win.

Needed him to win.

The second explanation was that in this compromised version of the system, a balancing act was necessary. As things stood, Simon's growth would be gradual. That meant confronting a steady pipeline of foes. Through conflict, he would learn to fight in high-pressure scenarios, forging himself into a champion worthy of his title.

But what if Heroic Valor's bonus EXP had been overtuned? What if Simon didn't have to fight to grow stronger? He could've instituted a Valtian soup kitchen and increased his Levels from charity alone.

And when the time came to challenge Duke Helmund, the transmigrator would've been wholly unprepared to kill a demigod in ruthless, bloody combat.

Heroic Valor's bonus EXP was just that – a bonus. It wasn't the main purpose of the system. The gods could nudge him towards being a hero of righteousness, ask him to live with virtue and honor, maybe even say pretty please...

Yet at the end of the day, he was essentially their hired hitman.

They're fortunate that I intend to make Valtia a better place regardless, Simon mused. I imagine not every champion holds onto their values when placed into a new world. Especially not a world that – thanks to the system – they could conquer with enough time and effort.

"I'm not doubting your judgement," Simon answered, turning to face Katarina. "I'm just contemplating my options."

"Such as?" she protested. "My suggested target is an unrepentant blackguard. I chose him to appeal to your predilections for meting out justice. Killing him will make you and I stronger. What else is there to consider?"

I have predilections now? "It's murder, Kat. A choice of ultimate finality; one you can't take back. Everything needs to be considered."

Truth be told, he'd been on the fence about leaving Irving alive. The guard was one bad day away from turning into an irredeemable monster. Simon certainly wouldn't have shed any tears over his death. Could've used the extra EXP, too.

That last thought had been what stayed the transmigrator's hand. It was a dangerous, corruptive notion. The Experience he might gain should never be a deciding factor in whether he killed someone or not. Ignoring that would be swan-diving straight onto the slippery slope.

The line had to be drawn somewhere – lest it be written too late in the blood of the undeserving.

Katarina hesitated before replying. "I am...surprised. You showed no hesitation when executing the slavers."

"Case in point: slavers. There's bands of them in Caelryn, right? It's a whole wretched industry. I'd rather we target them first."

"This is the second time you've proposed we go after them."

Simon shrugged. "They're slavers. Killing them is a civic duty. Like picking trash off the street."

For a brief moment, Katarina's eyes shone with visions of savage, hateful vengeance. Then she shook her head, letting out a disappointed sigh. "We can't. They watch over one another. The band you slew will be dismissed as a Fell Beast's doing, as they never returned to Caelryn – yet if slavers in the city start turning up dead, it'll raise too many questions."

"They seriously watch over each other?" Simon asked, a note of disbelief entering his tone.

"In a manner of speaking. There is fierce competition within their ranks, and no love lost, but slavers also recognize that all good folk despise them. When threats from outside emerge, the varying bands will join together and exact retribution until the danger has passed."

Simon examined her carefully. "And this argument has nothing to do with you pushing me to knock off your old enemies instead?"

"What–" She flinched back. "I wasn't–"

"For the record? It's not a problem. I have ways of verifying if you're lying or not. If the target you've suggested doesn't deserve death, then I'll just find a different one."

He laced his fingers together. "That said, now would be a good time to come clean. Are you being honest with your intentions?"

Katarina's posture sagged. "I'll admit that...there are those who I wish to see dead. People who've wronged me. Wronged others. And...well..."

"This was a golden opportunity you couldn't pass up."

She met his gaze. "When you see the target I have in mind, judge them as you see fit. I won't gainsay your decision. Still, whatever you choose, I cannot recommend you pursue the slavers instead. It won't end well. Perhaps we can try in the future, but neither of us are strong enough to stand up to them yet."

Simon's mouth slowly settled into a half-frown. "You're acting like they're untouchable."

"Aren't they? It's hardly any different from how we're avoiding the nobles for now. That's just how things are."

"No. It's not."

At his voice – harsh and cold, yet burning with restrained emotion – Katarina flinched back. "Simon?"

"I get why we have to avoid the uppercrust types. They have higher Levels, higher mana affinity, elite soldiers, and plentiful resources with which to defend themselves. Even if the commonfolk all rose up in rebellion, they'd likely be crushed underfoot – or suffer so many losses that victory would be pyrrhic at best."

His face betrayed no emotion. "But slavers aren't of the nobility. They're far less powerful. Far less entrenched. If everyone banded together, if they just bothered to make a stand, then the slavers wouldn't last a week before being rooted out."

Katarina eyed him with a mixture of confusion and wariness. "Simon...I was referring to us. Our paltry group of two. We are presently incapable of challenging forces larger than ourselves. That's why you seek to raise our Levels, yes?"

All at once, he realized he'd let his suppressed frustrations boil over again. "Nevermind," he said, the anger leaving his tone like muck through a filter. "Got sidetracked."

"And it's not as if rooting out the slavers would be a simple task," Katarina continued, sounding mildly defensive. "Not even if the commonfolk banded together. You can't expect people with empty stomachs and emptier pocketbooks to risk their life for causes that don't concern them. It would require great sacrifice to accomplish what you describe."

There shouldn't need to be great sacrifice. The masses of the commonfolk outnumber the slavers a million to one. It'd be like a roaring tsunami crashing onto a ramshackle hut.

If only everyone was on the same page. The people of Valtia – united against tyranny.

Simon shifted his gaze towards the upper district many streets away, its taller edifices peeking up over the lower district. "Who's officially in charge of Caelryn City?"

Katarina recovered quickly from the sudden change of topic, having grown used to that by now. "In what way do you mean?"

"Springwater has a Mayor. What does Caelryn have?"

"Ah. Well, among the nobles who reside here, a High Lord is designated every so often. I'm obviously not privy as to when or why. Nominally, the reigning High Lord rules over Caelryn City."

She furrowed her brow in thought. "Although some say it's a toothless position. Piers Helmund doesn't even live here, but if he so desired, he could single-handedly appoint a High Lord that heeds only his command. Who would stop him? A few wealthier merchants are nearing the nobility in terms of status as well. At a certain point, coin trumps lineage."

Her eyes widened. "Is this related to that De- that ability of yours?" She cut herself off before saying 'Demonic'. While it was unlikely that anyone was eavesdropping on them, you could never be too careful. "The, um, Subjugation one?"

Simon nodded, bringing up his Character Sheet.

-If the established leader or governing body of a village, town, city, or any similar settlement yields authority to you, then you are granted dominion of the aforementioned area.

Subjugate Territory was vague about what 'established leader' meant. Was it the official High Lord? Was it Piers Helmund, the scion of the Severed Isles? Was it a merchant rich enough to buy Caelryn five times over? Or was it perhaps a hypothetical shadow figure pulling strings behind the scenes – the true ruler, unbeknownst to all?

He knew he was getting ahead of himself. They weren't in a position to Subjugate anything bigger than a destitute, dying village.

Still – it paid to be prepared. When it came time to bring Caelryn City to heel, he wanted to know who exactly he'd be making a Contract with.

"How about religious leaders?" Simon posited. "Like a pope or a priest. Sometimes those can wield more power than the nobility."

"What's a priest?" Katarina asked, the word stumbling over her tongue. "Or a pope. Or 'religious' leaders, for that matter. That's all new to me."

Simon gaped at the woman in disbelief. There hadn't been an ounce of sarcasm in her tone. Even if Valtia has different names for religious terms, shouldn't the Universal Translator Trait have handled that?

"Priests are..." He paused. Needed to establish a baseline first. "I've heard people mention the Ancient One before. What other gods are recognized in Valtia?"

In an instant, Katarina's mood soured. "Congratulations," she murmured. "If there was any lingering doubt in my mind over your supposed memory loss, you've just dispelled it. Only someone who truly knows nothing could have devised a question like that."

A shudder ran across her body. "Gods. With an 's'. Didn't even have that fear until today."

Simon mentally backpedaled. He'd been looking at this from the wrong angle – like a student studying religious history from a safe, detached distance, focused solely on defining its political and societal influence. After all, divine intervention wasn't something that affected day-to-day living on Earth. Gods didn't toss down lightning bolts to smite whoever had slighted them.

That may not be the case for Valtia. Heck, he'd already met a god. Voice-In-The-Sky wasn't this world's patron deity, but it was still proof that higher powers existed in the universe at large.

"The Ancient One created our world many millennia ago," Katarina began. She spoke quickly, yet with a hint of austerity, as if speeding through an uncomfortable tale heard in her childhood. "No one knows how – we only know that it sought to massacre us all."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "It created you, then tried to kill you?"

"Like pigs for slaughter." She barked out a laugh devoid of humor. "The Ancient's motivations are beyond our reckoning. I could spend hours regaling you with frightful stories my father used to keep me in line when I was younger, but I'll be brief. In its wrath, the god devastated Valtia, failed to eradicate us, then disappeared. The end."

Hmm. Hope this doesn't sound overly blunt, but... "Is there physical evidence that the Ancient One existed?"

Katarina seemed surprised. "Didn't take you for a skeptic. Though I suppose it is a comforting thought. I'd very much like to believe that the Ancient One isn't real – that there's no chance it might return someday."

"My amnesia grants me a different perspective," Simon offered. "As someone learning the world for the first time, I need to be halfway skeptical of everything. And while I'm not completely discounting the Ancient's existence, it's also more difficult for me to believe things I can't personally verify, or that people I trust can't verify for me."

"Ironic, coming from the mouth of a Demon. I'd never met your kind before this past week, only heard of you in fables, yet here you are."

She sighed. "Believe what you will. It honestly doesn't concern me. Just...don't say gods where people are listening. The last thing anyone wants to imagine is the prospect of the Ancient One having family."

"Understood." Simon intended to research the subject later, but this was enough for now.

Katarina had given him much to consider.

Back on Earth, it was fairly common for societies to venerate gods that they feared. The concept of a kind, benevolent deity wasn't at all ubiquitous.

Valtia took that a step farther. This world didn't have a god – it had a boogeyman.

There was no religion based around the Ancient One. No priests extolling its supremacy. No temples constructed in its name. The people here didn't worship or revere it, as that would mean keeping the Ancient in their thoughts rather than consigning it to the darkest corners of their minds.

They just didn't want to think about it.

Inwardly, Simon found himself hoping that his skeptical half was right.

--

Both of them were quiet as they continued onward to their chosen target. Simon's mind was whirling with thoughts of Subjugate Territory, the legend of the Ancient One, and Caelryn's slaver industry – an infestation that he wasn't capable of exterminating just yet.

Katarina seemed to sense that he could use a distraction. "You removed everything of value from our carriage, correct?" she asked. "Nothing's left there to tempt any passing thieves?" It was the kind of question that she already knew the answer to, conjured up solely to fill dead air.

Simon graciously seized the opportunity. "I have. It all went straight into Inventory."

"Inventory," Katarina muttered, "Out of your myriad assortment of fantastical abilities, I think that one baffles me the most."

"More than the capital-D abilities?"

"Do you have the faintest notion of how convenient Inventory would've been for me? It makes theft impossible! No more wasted nights of fitful, restless sleep, wondering if my possessions will still be there when I awaken."

She exhaled. "Even now, I worry about the carriage we left behind. Shame you couldn't fit it inside Inventory as well."

"Isn't that why we paid for secure storage?"

"As if that would stop a truly industrious thief."

Simon paused. "I brought the Navigation Crystal with me. They can't just activate it and drive away."

"Again – that wouldn't deter some of the scoundrels I've met." After a moment of contemplation, she shook her head. "This is untrodden ground to me. Not used to owning high-risk valuables."

"Does it matter if our carriage gets stolen? With my abilities, it shouldn't be hard to track down the culprit."

Katarina glanced over. "You sound strangely eager."

A smirk played at the corners of Simon's lips. "I just don't shy away from conflict. If someone is bold enough to steal an entire carriage, wheels and all, then I can only thank them for the entertaining diversion."

And for delivering a potential EXP target right to his doorstep.

"I see that look in your eyes." She poked him in the shoulder. "Must you be so–"

Katarina froze mid-poke, her body going stiff as stone.

The change was so abrupt that Simon walked past her for a second before stopping. "Kat?" He turned around, pushing against the tides of the crowd to reach her. "You alright?"

She didn't answer. He followed her gaze, peering across the street.

A man in his early 30s was sitting by himself. His eyes were blank, staring listlessly into the distance. From his clothes, to his appearance, to his indifferent expression, nothing about him appeared particularly noteworthy. If Katarina hadn't singled him out, Simon wouldn't have given the man a second thought.

Although...something about him did seem vaguely familiar.

"Is that the target you picked out?" he whispered. "I thought we were ten minutes away."

Still no response. The blood had drained from Katarina's complexion, leaving her as a shocked, pale ghost of a woman. She hurriedly shuffled behind Simon, hiding herself from view.

...Okay. The transmigrator covertly examined their new target, suppressing his growing hatred so that it wouldn't show on his face. Identi–

Pain. Invisible needles jabbing at his eyeballs. The world churning and wavering. Like when he'd used Identify on the Ravenous Wanderer, but much less intense.

The sensation faded quickly, a floating system window taking its place.

Name: Armand Calloway
Description: What you see is what you get. A dull, friendless, passionless man. Laments every minute he is awake. Aimless and unremarkable.
At least while the sun is out. When night falls...the true Armand runs free, gleefully painting Caelryn with rivers of red.
Estimated Level: 28

Simon fought to retain his poker face.

An Estimated Level of 28 was obscenely high for a random passerby on the street. From what he'd been told, that kind of strength belonged to seasoned warriors with better-than-average mana affinity. In fact, after Kirkelas and the engorged Wanderer, this was the third-highest Level Simon had ever Identified.

And as for the man's Description–

"I know him."

Katarina's voice barely rose above the crowd. She was speaking just loudly enough that Simon could hear, trying her hardest not to draw attention.

In a flash, Simon remembered why Armand Calloway felt familiar. He'd seen this man once before.

When using Sin Scry for the second time.

Visions of a dark alley, an insane smile, and a bloody dagger surged to the forefront of Simon's mind – right as Kat's confirmation slithered into his ear.

"He tried to murder me."