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I hated those black scuttling creatures that infested the kitchens of this world, but I hated traitors more. And cheating? That was the most uncouth and vulgar form of backstabbing. Which is why I... How could I put this... Why I felt so damn torn up. Margit had looked sweet with her tomato-red face, but I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing. I was chewing on so many things, but when I tried to swallow them, they got stuck in my throat.
“Anyway, that’s the bet! As another young maiden who loves you, I truly don’t want you to bring any shame on her.”
“I wonder if Miss Firene would really be so happy to spend just a night together...”
“Women can live on the memories of one night of passion alone. Now, don’t hold out on her. That’s the worst thing a man can do,” she’d said before finally jumping off the watchtower and joining with Etan and Linus, who were below and blessedly out of earshot.
Margit had come up here to tell me she was going to do a bit of recon and leave the canton to me, so I imagined they were off to see if they could sniff out the necromancer. Of course her report had to come with this literal bombshell of a closer.
With the eyes of a dog left behind, I watched Margit lead the two scouts away.
What the hell was I meant to do?
“Like, actually...”
I could just about see a modicum of logic in what Margit had said. Yes, we had saved the canton. But fear still hung overhead. Something that happened once could happen again. Unless a solution was provided, that fear would linger like an unwelcome guest. It would keep a toehold in the small corners of every mind available.
I couldn’t see any movement in Mottenheim now that the sun had set, which just proved my point. In their shared housing—designated as evacuation zones—I could sense the anxiety among so many people rising to meet the night as it settled over everything. Those who chatted with friends dreading tomorrow and parents who tried to placate terrified children held vigil in the faint moonlight. They weren’t awake—they just couldn’t sleep.
I had become a fighter at heart so quickly; so had my friends. We no longer understood their anxieties. My memories of Earth, where peace was in so many places the default condition, were distant now. I had learned that here, your own life and the safety around you was to be won by your own might. In my previous life, I wouldn’t have given the notion that my security was wholly in my own hands a second thought. Unlike the heroes of the stories and TRPG sessions I so loved, my life had been blessed. I had lived in a civilization where the labors of generations in pursuit of a more enlightened, more merciful way to live had denied me the option to even consider that choice.
But if I had no means to protect myself or my family and had to live through a night like this? I would be immeasurably scared and helpless.
We won. It was our victory without a doubt. No one died—Fellow or resident—and no one was injured. Well, apart from those brats we pantsed. I’d heard their parents hurt them unintentionally trying to get them down. At any rate, we had an overwhelming success. But the situation told me our job was far from done.
I could hear creaks and groans from all around, along with the worried voices of others. It was only natural that people would seek the warmth of another to seek some shelter from their fear. They were shacking up with almost self-destructive vigor in empty rooms or in small pockets of privacy. It was all too human to want to leave things to the next generation in the face of existential peril.
I wouldn’t dare laugh at them. Margit and I craved each other’s bodies when we emerged from the maws of death. I was not yet mature enough to maintain my composure after a truly deadly fray. You might call me pathetic with my mere fifty years of experience, but I’d also want you to find some levity in the fact that I still had my humanity.
I crushed my fear because it was necessary going into battle, and felt the ecstasy as I got things done and let things fall into place. At the end of it, fear was left behind. All that was left was the joy of showing off your full capabilities. That data munchkin part of me, tied to my very soul, sung with happiness in those moments: Well done. Your fixed values have frightened everyone around you.
It wasn’t good to get ahead of myself. I was not the sort of divine swordsman whose approach to life had been winnowed down to the perfect clarity and icy logic of a living weapon. That future was just as far removed as the Night Goddess who looked down at this poor canton from up above.
“Enough of that. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Despite my idle moon gazing, I hadn’t dropped my guard at all. With no one around, I’d spread out my Unseen Hands thinly as far as they would go. I didn’t have enough mana to keep them around permanently, and even if I could, there were too many gaps to make them a perfect defense—all the same, I was surprised that Margit had managed to avoid something invisible—but they functioned as a sensor that allowed me to see if something was coming.
I could see someone jump back from the ladder they’d just put their hand on.
Seriously? Like seriously, seriously?!
I was sure she’d come to surprise me. To an outsider, it probably seemed like I’d taken on guard duty as an excuse to sit on a watchtower at the edge of the canton to smoke my pipe.
I’d lost the bet. I scratched my head, wondering what to do.
First up, I thought, I should say hello. Then I could see if this was actually what it was or not. I put away my pipe and leaped down off the watchtower. From her little squeal, it must’ve looked like I’d thrown myself off, but I’d used the handholds to grab and kick as needed to slow my descent, so she needn’t have worried about that. I kicked up a little plume of dust as I stuck the landing. If Margit were here she’d probably sigh and complain that I used to be far better at this. Not that I could help it. I was taller and heavier now, and I was wearing armor. I hadn’t improved Silent Steps at all since then, and now it wasn’t enough to cover for me. I wasn’t a little kid anymore.