[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 98 — Bonds Forged

Mel had no idea how long she slept, but she felt significantly better. The other groups, none of them Magi, she noticed, kept their distance from one another in an odd sort of queue.

At least nobody seemed to be actively ambushing and backstabbing one another. Everyone appeared fairly wary of each other.

Which made sense. By making it this far in the Convocation, you learned to protect yourselves against the human element. Monsters were dangerous, but people were worse. Always.

Mel’s group was closest to the mouth of the cave, another group was huddled together on the opposite wall, distinctly behind Mel’s group. The next group shared Mel’s wall but was even farther back.

They formed a damned line, Mel realized. Even though we’ve been killing each other, these people formed up a line.

It was just the sort of madness that Midarian would have howled with glee about. Mel shook her head and roused to full wakefulness. She had to keep in mind that they might have been too tired to do anything when they arrived, but soon they’d be fully rested.

For some reason, Mel didn’t think anything would happen until they went inside. Despite everything she had seen, the vast majority of people kept to themselves or formed groups to survive.

Most people were like Sabrina, Nathan, and the others. They just wanted to live. When times were tough, they banded together. Only the truly psychopathic or damaged turned to tyranny and hurting others.

There was a lot of that too, Mel reminded herself.

Fortunately, a lot of that nonsense seemed to have been culled out of the population. Mel wasn’t particularly proud of it, but she knew that she had a hand in that development.

I’d take a plaque or a ribbon. Nothing too showy. Maybe a “Betterment Award” or something.

Significantly fewer people had been interested in forming little fiefdoms of their own once they heard about the Emerald Eyed Demoness going around killing entire groups of gang members.

Gwen slept soundly beside Thomas, her head against his chest. While she was absolutely covered in dirt and debris, she was healed up.

One by one, the rest of her group woke up to find the strange calm that was the mouth of the cave. As they woke up, another group dragged themselves out of the pouring rain. The dark sky was dumping tons of water across the mountain.

“Don’t think we’d have made it if it was doing that,” Mel said, jerking her chin toward the outside. A few groups had created small fires out of scrolls. Mel couldn’t see any fuel being used.

Gwen brought out some supplies from her exclusive food storage necklace, including a huge loaf of crusty baked bread.

More than one sunken face turned toward the delectable smells that filled the cavern mouth.

Even Mel’s normally hardened heartstrings couldn’t resist the tug of so many hungry faces. She frowned and looked at the instant campfire that had finally consumed her scroll.

Gwen looked around, eyes widening at the sadness.

“We have enough,” Mel said softly.

Thomas nodded. “They look like they could do with a little light. What else are Magi for if not to provide that spark of hope?”

Heath looked at them as if they were insane. “You just killed three people as if it was nothing!” he hissed.

“Yeah, but they were bad,” Mel said dismissively.

Heath stared off into the distance. “Tomato. Pancake.”

Gwen shook her head, pulling out more supplies. Most of them had extra food stored away, prepared well ahead of time. It was easy to come by when the plateaus were plentiful with mana boosted forage. It just took time and effort to find the stuff, or a werewolf with an aspect skill for tracking scents.

“Most people aren’t like that,” Thomas said, looking around at the faces turned their way. More than a few were licking their lips hungrily as more smells of cooking food wafted out from the dark cavern mouth. “Besides.” He turned to Heath. “Do you want more people to try killing each other?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“A fair one, I think.”

Heath shook his head emphatically. “No, I don’t want people to keep killing each other for no reason.”

“A hungry person is desperate,” Mel said. “It is the most basic instinct in each of us. We could hoard our food and weaken our adversaries, but what would be the point? The spirit of the Convocation is competition, not cruelty.”

“You don’t know that,” Heath said.

“Look around again, bucko. Do you see any tyrants or armies here? No. They’re adventurers.”

Heath bit his lip and looked down pensively into the flickering flames of the magical campfire. “Are we doing it just to save ourselves, then?”

“Nah,” Thomas said, looping an arm around Heath’s narrow shoulders. “You see, everybody could use a good meal from time to time. We can spread a little hope and light into their lives by reminding them that not everybody is out to kill them. That we can compete without having to kill one another. The points are what matters.”

“Too bad we don’t have any instant scrolls for furniture,” Gwen said, eyeing the wall like she might just carve off a slab.

Heath didn’t look like he was entirely convinced.

“You heard about me, didn’t you?” Mel asked.

Heath nodded. He wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“My points only skyrocketed once I joined up with Gwen and Thomas, and we went exclusively after strong monsters. If I were a betting girl–and I am–I would say that I only received a fraction of the Battle Points a person accumulated. Enough that killing stronger monsters is more effective.”

Mel knew that some of her logic wasn’t perfect there. She killed a lot of people before they reached Copper, but she also took out more than her fair share of Coppers. Her rating improved several times more by going after a few plateau beasts than it did over weeks of slaughtering. That had to count for something.

Before long, a feast was prepared. Dozens of loaves, huge slabs of grilled meats, bowls heaped with multicolored fruits, and rich stews thick with vegetables and meat were set out.

The other groups fidgeted as they looked on enviously. Mel realized that stretching this out any longer would be needlessly cruel. She stood up and stepped in front of the fire to provide a dramatic back light. “Anybody who wants to share a meal with us is welcome,” Mel said, lifting her voice so the people all the way in the back could hear her. “We’re all eating from the same food. If you want any, you’re welcome. No strings attached. Grab a plate and enjoy. Our time here is almost up. Might as well finish strong.”

She dropped back down and turned to watch the groups discussing amongst themselves.

“Gotta admit,” Mel said, when nobody moved, “it hurts more than I thought it would. Figured people would jump at free grub.”

“It’s their choice,” Gwen said gently, putting a [Giant Direboar Roast] on the fire, then chilling a tankard of tea just by touching Thomas’ [Aspect Channel] ritual with Winter aspect.

The scent of smoked, perfectly seared red meat was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.

A young man stood up like a rickety puppet and lurched toward them, wringing his hands constantly. “Are…you still offering food?” he asked quietly.

“And drink,” Mel said. She slapped the stone floor with her palm. “Pull up a seat. We’re pretty much occupying the center of the area anyway, plenty of room.”

He turned back to his group. “Can I–?”

“Sure, sure,” Mel cut him off. “Bring the whole fam.”

He nodded and shuffled off. His group huddled together in front of Mel’s fire, tightly clustered as if Mel and her group were going to kill them at the drop of a hat.

“Hard to eat while you’re sitting over there like that,” Thomas noted, taking a bowl of stew for himself.

Mel still had several of the simple wooden bowls and plates that Shane made. It lightened her heart to see them being used by strangers sharing a meal together.

Sabrina would have liked this.

Slowly, the first man who approached them tried a bite of stew. His friends watched him as if he was going to explode into chunks.

Whatever fears the man had vanished as soon as he tasted his first spoonful of stew. He wolfed it down, hardly caring about blowing on it or even savoring it. As soon as he was done with one helping, he thrust out the bowl. “May I please have another?!”

Gwen motioned for him to help himself. “Eat your fill.”

That was all he needed to hear. Around a mouthful of stew he said, “Name’s Joel.” He tore off a hunk of fresh bread and soaked it in the rich stew.

Mel swore he moaned.

Seeing their otherwise stoic friend scarfing down food as if he was on death’s doorstep, his friends introduced themselves and took the offered bowls.

Soon, more than 20 people were seated around Mel’s campfire, sharing a feast. It lacked some of the refinements that many might expect from Thanksgiving or Christmas, but that didn’t make it any less delicious.

The rustic nature of the feast was further enhanced by chilled teas and cold water courtesy of Gwen’s Winter aspect.

“Get in my mouth, you filthy little carb,” Mel muttered, biting off a hunk of fresh crusty bread. She didn’t know how Gwen kept the food perfectly preserved, but the bread was hot and chewy inside, while delightfully crunchy on the outside.

“Huh, finally completed that quest,” Gwen said. “Forgot all about it.”

“Feeding more than 30 people?” Thomas asked.

She nodded.

“Forgive me, padre, for I have sinned,” Mel continued, snagging another full baguette and ripping into it like a wild animal. “Have mercy on my bread slut soul. For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry god.”

Any remaining stragglers were pulled in by the sounds of joyous eating and the countless mingling smells. Mel’s unhinged display of carnal carb love only served to break the ice and lower everybody’s guard.

Soon, small conversations were springing up here and there as people asked others to pass a side or dish of some sort.

People started swapping stories about their first days. The first monster they slayed, the first creature they had seen, and the feeling they had when they gained runes of experience.

Everybody had a different perspective. It was fascinating to listen to each of them talking about something that felt so distant, yet was less than two months ago.

It was long enough that the survivors, all gathered around a communal fire and sharing a meal together, were able to joke and look back fondly on what must have been a terrifying experience.

Some groups started a competition to see who had the oddest and most useless aspect out there. As it turned out, a man named Gavin had what everybody agreed was the most useless aspect of the bunch: Soap.

Gwen looked like a proud mama bear, seeing all these people hungrily–and happily–eating all of her food. In between mouthfuls, they tried to give their thanks.

A few tried to pay with coins or trinkets, but even the loot-hungry Gwen refused each and every one. This was a meal of friendship and camaraderie. She refused to cheapen it.

Joel’s daughter, Cassidy, leaned in and glanced around curiously. “I heard something about a tomato pancake? Normally I’m not into weird stuff like that…but some of this food I can’t even pronounce. Do you…have any of that?”

Mel paled a little. “N-no, it was…gross.”

Heath nodded profusely.

Cassidy frowned, like she had just been denied a sumptuous treat, but she shrugged with the enthusiasm and zest for life of a young woman who had survived horrible ordeals.

Mel leaned over to Heath. “She’s probably about your age, Heath. Why don’t you ask her out?”

Heath paled even further. “I’m…uh…you see–”

Mel howled with laughter and clapped him on the back. “Man, your face was priceless. Just relax and enjoy the moment, will you? Stop stressing.”

For a fleeting moment, there was peace, comfort, warmth, and good food shared among strangers. It was a good few hours full of mirth and joy, and shared stories.

Then the quest popped up for all who had gathered there.

The harsh reality of the Convocation asserted itself once more. The tail end of conversations slowly dwindled. The groups splintered, thanking Mel, but especially Gwen, for the wondrous food and memories, then they returned to their places.

Mel had expected the people to return to their gloomy, hollow-eyed stares, but they rejoined their previous conversations almost immediately. There was a lightness in their voices, a softness to their eyes that had been worn away by a simple act of compassion.