Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 8.1, 8.2

It was with herculean effort that Simon barely managed to stop himself from bursting out laughing. "You want to try redoing that first impression?" he suggested.

His comment was meant to be lighthearted, something to help break the ice, but Katarina seemed to interpret it differently. The woman paled severely, as if she'd felt footsteps treading on her grave.

Her eyes immediately snapped down to the crossbow held in her hands. It was empty, its one bolt having been delivered straight into Relia's cranium. Simon witnessed a hurried, frantic analysis take place within Katarina's gaze – could she load another bolt and fire in time before he retaliated?

Prudence won out over valor. She tossed the crossbow onto the ground, sank to her knees, and bowed, adopting a position of deference and respect.

"You have my thanks for freeing me, Lord Demon." Katarina's tone sounded impressively even-keeled. If Simon hadn't been closely paying attention, he might've missed the slight tremor in her voice indicating how utterly freaked out she was. "I couldn't have slaughtered these wretched slavers on my own. Your timely assistance has breathed new life into my...um...life."

She bowed even deeper. "As a reward befitting this generosity, I pledge loyalty to you, Lord Demon. Your commands are mine to follow. I merely ask that you extend your generous nature to my father as well. If his good health is guaranteed, then I shall be your loyal servant for as long as you desire."

Several seconds went by without a response. Beads of sweat started running down Katarina's forehead. Her posture twitched with nervous energy as the silence stretched on uncomfortably.

It only ended when Simon let out a note of faint disgust. "Ugh. Can you not?"

Katarina blinked. "Not...what?"

"Not this." He gestured vaguely at her. "The whole life-debt thing is creeping me out. I didn't save you so I could get an indentured servant."

If Simon one day rose to a position of prominence, then he would naturally gain subordinates who obeyed his orders. That was a given. He couldn't change the world without like-minded people willing to share in his vision of the future.

But this situation felt different – especially when Katarina had been freed from captivity less than a minute ago. Everything about it was making his skin crawl. The circumstances, the groveling, her blatant fear, offering lifelong servitude...it all just made him feel grimy.

"How about you try for a third first impression. It can't go worse than the second." Simon shook his head. "Gotta admit, wasn't expecting the sycophant routine."

"...Sycophant?"

Something in Katarina's facade cracked as the weight of the past few days seemed to press down on her. "Apologies, my Lord. If I comported myself like a sycophant, it was only to ensure the safety of me and my father. After being kidnapped by slavers, beaten and starved, forgive me for not confronting you with my head held high! It was so uncouth of me to ingratiate myself with you, bowing and scraping so that I wouldn't have my soul devoured by a poisoning, treasonous, lunatic DEMON!"

Simon raised an eyebrow.

"...Uh...my Lord?"

He snorted with mirth. "Name's Simon. Don't call me a Lord before I've officially won the title."

The woman's eyes narrowed by a fraction. "You...may call me Katarina. Or Kat, if you prefer."

"Nice to meet you, Katarina." Simon paused. He knew he should let the poor woman off easy, but the temptation to pick her brain was too strong. "Okay, in all seriousness, did you really think I would've taken you as a servant even if I was the type to do that? I just saw you shoot your former 'master' in the head. You would've betrayed me in two weeks, max."

She sighed, then stood up, abandoning her deferential kneeling pose. "Can you blame me for delivering violence to those who seek to steal my freedom?"

"Oh, no. I respect the hustle. Betray away. I'm simply curious about how arrogant and shortsighted you think I am."

Subtle embarrassment crept into Katarina's face. "It was a necessity of the moment. I thought that after slaying your former compatriots, you would come for me and my father next."

Simon briefly considered explaining that he was a Fell-Touched human, not a Demon. She might regard him with less apprehension if he told her the circumstances behind his Shapeshifted arm.

But would she believe that story? He wasn't sure that Fell-Touched humans existed outside of him. Without the gods' system to help integrate Kirkelas' demonic mana into his body, he likely would've ended that encounter corrupted, possessed, or worse. Claiming that he was a special case may cause him to look even more suspicious than before.

And most of all...information related to his unique Traits and Skills was priceless. Every detail that Simon revealed was another knot that could be tied into the noose that one day hung him. Why should he divulge his innermost secrets to a stranger who could go around blabbing them to the entirety of Springwater Village?

Best to keep his origins vague and let Katarina draw her own conclusions. It was a strategy that had worked well-enough so far.

"For the record, I've no intention of hurting you or your father." Throwing her a bone, Simon pointed at the ropes that had once restrained her, now laying in a heap on the carriage floor. "Nice work. Figured I'd have to untie you myself. How did you escape?"

"A hidden dagger and extensive preparation." Her expression darkened. She kicked Relia's corpse without looking at it, as if the response was automatic. "Do not mistake my father and I for hapless dullards simply because these reprobates took advantage of our desperation. This is not a scenario that was altogether unexpected. We have trained to escape the confines of a tied rope."

She rubbed her eyes, bringing attention to the deep, dark circles underneath them. "Feels cruel that the first time we put it into practice would be after leaving Caelryn City. Hoped things would be better out here."

Simon felt a passing moment of confusion. Hadn't Lucette described Caelryn City as a great place to live? At least compared to an impoverished, backwater village like Springwater, which Katarina and Gerold appeared to be heading towards.

Then he remembered who Lucette had actually turned out to be. The city probably was great...for someone of her profession. When she'd spent hours regaling him with cheerful tales of carousing in Caelryn, she'd left out exactly how her spending money was earned.

He added her stories to the growing pile of once-fond memories that were now tainted and bitter.

"If it helps," Simon muttered, "they fooled me too. Didn't know they were slavers until I saw you and your father."

Katarina's eyes widened. "You're...not lying? Then why did they treat you as kin?"

"I stole a name from a dead friend of theirs."

She froze, at a loss for words. It was a facial expression that Simon was well-acquainted with. He would say a truthful statement, somehow derail the train of discussion, and others would look at him funny. Useful when attempting to intimidate or disconcert people; less so when it happened unintentionally during casual conversation.

Mercifully, Katarina had a social backup plan. "Before I forget," she began, gracefully pivoting from his comment. "Setting aside my earlier theatrics – that should and will be forgotten – my gratitude was genuine. While I could have escaped the slavers' ropes, I couldn't have killed the four of them and rescued my father without your assistance. Just fleeing on my own would've been a tall order."

A guarded, fragile smile inched upwards. "Even if it was only to further goals that I haven't yet puzzled out...thank you for helping us. Truly."

"You're welcome." Simon allowed himself a smile as well, a kernel of warmth blooming in his chest. "Speaking of your father – shouldn't you go tend to him? He needs food, water, and medicine. There should be some in Relia's carriage."

Katarina did a surprised double-take, glancing first at Gerold, then back to Simon. "I am free to do so?"

"Please don't start a repeat of your second first impression. I saved you guys because it was the right thing to do. That's all."

She clearly didn't believe him. That didn't stop her from rushing over to Gerold, slicing his bindings apart with swift, practiced motions, then dashing into Relia's carriage in search of supplies.

Simon left them to it. He walked out of view, knowing that his presence would merely make the two uncomfortable. Should I have Shapeshifted my demonic arm back to normal? he mused. Think it was putting Katarina on edge. She stared at it more than a dozen times during our talk.

In retrospect, he may have been wrong when he'd said she would betray him within two weeks if forced into servitude. She would've wanted to, absolutely, but...when she'd looked at his arm, there was a fear there that hadn't been present when glaring at the slavers. As if the slavers were a known – albeit hated – quantity, while Demons were something enigmatic and terrible.

Lucette and Relia had done the same. They'd all gazed at him like he was a horror movie monster come to life. Or in Valtian terms, a monstrosity of legend that had sprang straight from the pages.

Yeah. It was probably for the best that Katarina and Gerold never see him again. The two of them would patch themselves up, hijack Relia's carriage, then drive off into the sunset before the scary Demon changed his mind about desiring servants. If they ever thought of him in the future, it would be with relief over having narrowly escaped his clutches.

He was fine with that. The point of helping people wasn't to be put on a pedestal and lauded with accolades. Kat's words of gratitude were already more of a reward than he'd anticipated.

Well, from her, at any rate. Ebris and Lucette had rewarded him plenty. Taking ownership of their carriage would grant him access to rations, money, weapons, transportation, and a variety of miscellaneous resources and items. Considering that he'd been starving and destitute just one week prior, this was better than he ever could've dreamed of.

All for the low, low price of four murders.

Simon slowly turned around in a circle. His gaze passed over the bodies of Lucette, Ebris, Relia, and Torben. He closely examined each corpse, refusing to hide from the results of his own actions. These people were dead – because he had decided they should be.

It wasn't a choice he regretted, but two of these slavers had saved his life. He wouldn't be standing here without them. Even if their kindness was built on a lie, it'd still meant something.

And now that the battle was over...he was free. Free to process everything that had transpired without it being a fatal distraction. Free to experience guilt at having taken lives for the first time. Free to mourn the people who he'd once thought Ebris and Lucette were.

Before he set off for Springwater Village, this was the time to let his emotions run wild.

...

Aaaaany minute now.

...

Hmm.

Strange.

He hadn't thought he'd go to pieces or anything, but he'd definitely expected more than what he felt right now. The strongest emotion he could muster was a detached sense of disappointment. As if he wished things could've turned out differently, even though – realistically speaking – he knew that the slavers' fates had been sealed the instant he saw Katarina and Gerold tied up in the back of their carriage.

Still. A sliver of guilt wouldn't have been out of the question. It was so jarringly absent that he was starting to worry about himself.

Would he have felt guilty if he'd killed...for example, random bystanders? 'Yes' was the immediate answer that came from within. Even if it'd happened by accident, innocent deaths would have torn him apart inside.

But that's just it, really. Ebris and Lucette weren't innocent. Far from it. I can easily convince myself that they deserved to be killed.

I can't convince myself that they deserve to be mourned.

That was that.

With a shrug, Simon moved on to other matters. He wasn't going to force grief or guilt where none existed. That just sounded like vain self-flagellation.

There was a more pressing issue to attend to – something he hadn't noticed until mentally reviewing his battles with the slavers. Concentrating, Simon directed his focus inward, bringing up his Character Sheet. He aimed his thoughts at one section in particular, willing it to listen.

Heroic Valor, he began, addressing the Skill directly. Why didn't you send me bonus EXP for rescuing Katarina and Gerold?

It was a longshot. The system hadn't given any indication that Skills were sentient. Simon was mostly hoping that a random alert or notification would answer his question.

Yet to his surprise, he started to feel a pulse of emotion resonating from deep inside his mind. The sensation felt similar to when Kirkelas' magic had influenced him in Caelryn Cave. Except that this was like a friendly neighbor, not a foreign trespasser...and instead of influencing him, it was merely making its presence known.

Heroic Valor was attempting to communicate with him.

It took Simon a solid half-minute to comprehend what the Skill was trying to say. Rather than words, it chose to converse solely through pulses of emotion – despite understanding the English language. The distinction seemed purposeful, as if Heroic Valor believed emotions were a purer, more honest form of communication.

Eventually, though, he managed to parse what it was telling him. And what it told him...made zero sense.

[No bonus EXP.]

Simon frowned. Again, why? I'd say that taking down slavers and saving a father-daughter duo counts as a sufficiently heroic deed.

[You murdered people. Betrayed them. Harvested a soul.]

Morally, yes.

[Dude.]

This won't be the last time I have to kill someone. There's no shortage of heartless bastards out there who won't listen to logic or empathy. Are you telling me that if I come across a true blue tyrant, I should just shake their hand, let bygones be bygones, and politely ask them to stop being evil?

[...No.]

Plus, my betrayal was the only way to save Katarina and Gerold – the only way to save everyone who would've been enslaved by Lucette's crew for years and years after. I couldn't have defeated four higher-Level combatants in a fair fight. Are you telling me to always be honest, even if it causes good people to suffer?

[No.]

Furthermore, using Fell Harvest isn't an inherently evil act. Skills are tools, and no tool is evil; merely the manner in which it is employed. Harvesting enemies will make me stronger, which will give me more leverage to work with, which will open up new opportunities to save people. Think of it as an investment in future heroism.

[...Fine.]

Alert: Heroic Valor's bonus has (begrudgingly) activated!

For backstabbing and soul-harvesting your way to the moral high ground, you have received bonus EXP!

Your Level has increased!
Level: 5 → 6

Four unspent stat points added to the pool! Allocate them at will!

Simon grinned and gave two thumbs-up. Knew you'd see reason.

There was no response. Heroic Valor's emotional pulses were gone.

Before he had time to contemplate what that meant, a subdued noise of anguish pierced the silence. "Father," Katarina whispered from within Relia's carriage. "Father – it's me. Please say something."

She likely hadn't intended for him to hear that. Simon almost walked away, not wanting to intrude where he wasn't welcome.

But...that note of sorrow in her voice wasn't something he could ignore.

Slowly, without making any sudden movements, he stepped into Katarina's field of vision. She was holding Gerold's head in her lap, staring down at him with watery eyes. "Everything okay?" Simon asked.

Katarina recoiled, nearly jumping out of her skin. The former captive looked up at him, then back at Gerold, seeming to come to a decision. "He isn't recovering," she muttered, sounding at her wit's end. "Gave food and medicine, but – but he's still weak."

"It takes time to recover from malnutrition." Trust me. Speaking from experience. "And his illness would compound that issue as well."

Tangled red hair twisted back and forth as Katarina shook her head. "This goes beyond that. My father has been sick for some time, and I know his usual symptoms. It's worse now than ever before."

She might have a point. Gerold's body was unmoving, his breaths short and ragged. A sheen of sickness-sweat was visible on his face. It was a far cry from the man Simon had seen just yesterday; as if his condition had been on a precipice, and the slavers' abuse sent him tumbling over the edge of–

His eyes opened.

It happened without warning. Katarina flinched as Gerold turned his head towards Simon, seeming to expend all his stored-up energy in one short motion. Despite that, when he addressed the Fell-Touched transmigrator, his words were strong and fierce.

"Don't you dare hurt her."

Then his eyes closed again, and he said no more. The rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he yet lived.

Simon felt a sudden flash of respect for the man. Familial protectiveness was an admirable quality...even if the slavers had marginally soured that concept for him.

Torn between excusing her father's rudeness and focusing on the immediate situation, Katarina judged that Gerold's deteriorating condition was a bigger risk to his health than him having potentially insulted a Demon. "Medicine isn't working anymore," she continued, speaking quickly. "He needs a physician. Or a healer. Springwater should have some."

Maybe. Simon wasn't going to crush her last remaining hope, but if Springwater Village really was as much of an isolated backwater as Lucette had described...

Don't die, he thought, glancing at Gerold. Not after I just saved you. That'd be a waste. "Take their carriage. The sooner the better."

Katarina nodded insistently. She rushed towards the Artifact that functioned as the carriage's engine, ready to set off without delay. Her hand darted forward–

"Wait!"

Simon yelled, and Katarina froze. The woman sucked in air through her teeth as she looked back. "Yes?" she inquired, with a tone of perfect neutrality. Underneath, she was pensive, as if imagining that the Demon's shocking yet inevitable betrayal had finally arrived.

"Not this carriage," he clarified. Simon pointed at the Warding Orbs embedded into the vehicle's frame. Lucky that I felt like Identifying them just now. "The Orbs' warding aura will run out in less than 12 hours."

Katarina's mouth dropped open. "You're lying," she blurted.

"I have no reason to. Relia's carriage is a deathtrap. You'll be hunted by Fell Beasts before the day is done. If you heard about Ardyn's caravan earlier – that's how he died too."

He didn't know what Katarina found in his expression that convinced her, but after several seconds, she belted out a litany of scathing curses directed at the four corpses laying outside. "Ancient One take these addle-brained fools! What kind of roaming band of slavers uses faulty Warding Orbs!?"

Privately, Simon agreed. Their gang had grown complacent. Fifteen years of successful banditry would do that.

"We'll share the other carriage," he offered, before Katarina could work herself up into a panic. "Its Warding Orbs are good for another two years. Let's grab whatever's important from Relia's caravan and get moving."

"Hold...hold on. How can you sense that the Wards are nearly depleted of sacred mana? Is it because you're a Demon?"

Identify was a tool he should keep under wraps. "Sure. Let's go with that."

Like clockwork, there it was again – that analytical distrust in her glare as she scrutinized him for duplicity. It was warranted, based on what he knew of Demons, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. Especially when they were on a timer.

Simon matched her glare with one of his own. "I'll be blunt. I don't need a convoluted scheme to kill you. These suspicions are meaningless. Either accept that my generosity is authentic, or don't. Your father will be the one who pays the price."

She had no rebuttal to that. Making a snap decision, Katarina sprinted over to Gerold, motioning for Simon to follow. "Help me carry him. Please."

He was gracious enough to Shapeshift his arm back to human form before complying.

The next minute was a frantic blur of activity. Both of them rushed from carriage to carriage, looting everything useful from Relia's depressingly large cache. While it was useful in the here and now, Simon couldn't help but spare a thought for what the size of the slavers' dragon hoard implied. How many people died and suffered so that four sinners could lead lives of luxury?

Wouldn't stop him and Katarina from taking advantage, though. Food, water, medicine, vital amenities – all went straight into Lucette and Ebris' carriage. Non-essential items were left behind. Tempting as it was to grab valuables that might fetch a pretty penny, Gerold couldn't afford that kind of delay.

When it came to health emergencies...Simon was extremely aware of what difference a few minutes could make.

The only moment of hesitation came when Katarina caught sight of Relia's corpse. Her pace halted as she stared at the crossbow bolt sticking out of the slaver's forehead, its tip covered in dried blood and exposed brain matter.

Simon could guess what she was thinking. Identify had mentioned that she'd never killed anyone, even in self-defense. This was her first. It may have been the very definition of a justified kill, but it was still killing. The act of taking a life carved an indelible mark on a person's psyche.

At least he assumed it did. Simon wished he could say something to raise Katarina's spirits, but he wasn't the guy to talk to about this. Not when he'd already tried to feel guilty – and failed spectacularly.

He compromised by tapping her shoulder and gesturing at the caravan. "Keep moving. We're almost done."

Like waking from a dream, Katarina snapped to attention. She wasted not a second more, hurrying on as if there'd been no pause at all.

Figured that would do the trick. Mentally processing a life-altering event? Difficult. Smothering complicated emotions under a pile of work?

Oh so easy.

By the end of it, Katarina was the one shoving him into Lucette's carriage. She went for the Artifact before he'd even had the chance to sit down. Thankfully, she knew how to operate it, infusing a line of mana into the diamond-shaped device.

The Artifact began glowing with yellow-tinted light. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the aura it gave off was one of freedom and adventure. Like riding a horse across grassy plains, the wind flowing through your hair as a sparkling city emerged over the horizon.

He doubted Springwater would be so grand as that.

--

One day passed. Gerold's condition didn't improve.

It also didn't worsen. That was crucial. The man would survive until they reached Springwater tomorrow.

Probably.

Katarina spent the bulk of that first day fussing over him. No expense was spared for her father's sake. The slavers may have been monsters masquerading in human form, but they'd stocked up well. Food, water, and medicine – the trifecta of a swift recovery, all at her fingertips.

Although she was clearly unaccustomed to having a surplus of supplies. Simon had to stop her at one point, explaining that feeding Gerold too much would make him more sick. When working at Grace's food kitchen, he'd learned that people who'd been subsisting on starvation rations couldn't handle a full meal right away. Their bodies needed time to adjust to proper portions.

The fact that she actually listened to him was a victory in and of itself. It showed that he was making progress with her.

Suspicions and paranoia could only go so far. Katarina had seen him talk down the slavers on multiple occasions, then she was rescued by him, and THEN she detected no signs of treachery in their subsequent conversations. He was building trust step by step, padding his resume with every noble deed.

Granted, the whole soulsucking Demon thing was a major black mark that hadn't been forgotten. Yet she still appeared...somewhat at ease spending a two-day carriage ride with him.

Wonder if I can make her view me as a dependable ally before we go our separate ways. He didn't know how much longer they would be traveling together, but this was good practice nonetheless.

And if nothing else, it let them establish enough of a rapport to get some freaking sleep. Neither of them were in any state to pull several all-nighters in a row keeping an eye on each other. Though Katarina certainly tried, jolting in and out of consciousness, the dark circles under her eyes deepening as she fixed a watchful gaze on her Demonic passenger.

To which Simon waved once and promptly zonked out. With all his planning and anxiety, he'd barely even rested the past night. He couldn't allow the deficit to worsen. There was a greater than zero chance that Katarina attempted to knife him while he slumbered, yet he deemed it less of a risk than being sleep-deprived in Valtia.

Luckily, his wary companion stayed on her side of the carriage. The most she did was stare in awe when he awakened eight hours later. His burn and stab wounds had vanished entirely, healed overnight by Transmigrator's Body. She opened her mouth, about to question him...then closed it, seeming to chalk up his speedy recovery up to Demon stuff.

After getting some well-deserved shut-eye, the rest of Simon's time was occupied with Character Sheet experimentation. Attempting to contact Heroic Valor proved to be a bust – the ability remained silent. Mildly dismayed, he bolstered his mood by moving on to a more fruitful topic:

Channel Essence. The Demonic Skill that had won him his victory against Lucette.

Channel Essence (Rank 1)
-Whether by overwhelming force or binding Contacts, the core essence of Demonkind is to exert control. Demonic magic is an extension of that edict. At a cost to your MP, it shall take your will and enforce it upon reality. As your Level increases, and your reserve of mana swells, so too will the effect of channeling essence.

-This Skill is variable and can take a variety of forms. More types of Channel Essence will be learned as your proficiency with demonic magic grows. The system has split these sub-abilities into separate categories for readability and ease of use.

Channel Essence: Kill
-A projectile that instantly kills its target – when provided with sufficient mana. Weaker versions will sap the target's stamina and willpower. The Skill's effect may be resisted by those with high Levels or high mana.

Channel Essence: Barrier [Unlearned]
-???

Channel Essence: Landmine [Unlearned]
-???

Channel Essence: ??? [Unknown]
-???

Simon let out a low whistle as he read through the description. If this was a microcosm of what Demons were capable of, then little wonder they were apparently the boogeymen of Valtia.

Kill alone was an instant win button under the right circumstances. He didn't know the exact details of what Barrier and Landmine did yet, but their names were self-explanatory. Learning those sub-Skills would add some needed variety to his available combat options.

There was also an unknown fourth ability – and nothing said it was the only unknown ability. For all he knew, there could be an infinite number of Channel Essence variants. It almost seemed akin to pseudo-reality manipulation, where the user could do just about anything...as long as they had the mana and power to back up their intent.

At Simon's current Level, his capacity to Channel was limited. But once he got stronger? Much, much stronger?

Surpassing the Demon of Ruination was a very real possibility.

...In the distant future. For now, he was stuck trying to learn Barrier and Landmine. Even when channeling mana as he had before, envisioning how the Skills would take shape, and then ordering them to obey his command, neither effect materialized.

It was likely a result of the change in scenery. Simon first learned Kill in a high-tension battle where he truly, sincerely wanted his opponent to die. That situation had let him forge the spell without a hint of remorse or hesitation. Tapping into Channel Essence seemed to require drawing upon a twisted sense of megalomaniacal authority.

He couldn't get into that mindset at the drop of a hat. Not in the comfort and safety of a moving carriage, anyway. How could he form a Barrier without attacks to shield, or place a Landmine without enemies to slay?

There needed to be an acceptable target. Something he felt justified – felt right in using Demonic Skills on.

"What are you thinking of?" Katarina suddenly asked. She'd been observing him for some time now. "A Demon's smile usually portends disaster for those around them."

I was smiling? "You've met other Demons?" he said, answering her question with another question.

"Well...not so much," she admitted. "Yet the tales are clear. Do not trust Demons. Do not fight Demons. Do not converse with Demons. Do not shelter Demons. Do not break bread with Demons. Do not make deals with Demons. Do not spark the interest of a Demon. And above all else, if you see a Demon, run as fast as you can – and pray that it does not give chase."

Simon tilted his head. "Think you've broken a couple of those tenets already."

"I'm quite aware, yes." She sighed. "But I'll take the risk if it keeps my father alive."

Her fists clenched, and her voice lowered, each word chained by years of unending strife. "We've come too far to stop now."

Simon could respect that. Same as he respected Gerold. Like father, like daughter. I can see where she got her fire from.

He brushed aside a pang of nostalgia as Katarina looked at him again. "At least answer me this – why were you with that band of slavers?" she queried. "It evidently wasn't to partake in their...activities. If it was to seize control of their carriage and supplies, then I suppose you've done a fine job of that."

"You're on the right track," he lied.

Honesty wasn't always the best policy. In this case, it would mean informing Katarina that he'd been a starving, penniless, low-Level wanderer rescued from death's door by Ebris and Lucette.

As much as she was unnecessarily wary of him, that was preferable to her thinking he wasn't a threat. People did stupid things when they believed they had the upper hand. He saw no benefit to explaining that he wasn't a full-blown Demon, or how his Level was significantly lower than what she seemed to assume it was.

On that note...

Another question came to mind. It was one that he already knew the answer to. However, the way Katarina responded would be of great significance. Whether she told the truth or lied, either outcome would reveal more about her personality.

And if she answered in a third, different way...it would reveal even more about the world of Valtia itself.

Simon had a theory that he needed to confirm.

"My turn to ask a question." He leaned back, adopting a relaxed demeanor. "What's your Level at?"

Katarina stared, frowned – then answered in the third way.

"Never heard that phrase. What's a Level?"

--

Simon's Character Sheet

Thanks for reading!