The Glove of Minor Power. A stolen longsword, produced from Inventory. The element of surprise.

  That was all it took to kill a man six Levels higher.

  Simon froze. Not out of shock or regret – but out of confusion. He had never killed anyone before. Never even hurt anyone outside of schoolyard fights, really. Taking a life should have been momentous, horrifying, world-shattering, soul-altering. It was an act that separated men from monsters. It should have been more difficult, but it just...

  Wasn't.

  One slice. As if cutting strings.

  Ebris collapsed forward, gurgling, his hand clutching at his ruined throat. A fountain of blood poured outwards, staining the ground with crimson red.

  Some fading dregs of awareness were still present in his eyes, yet they would soon be gone. Simon's blow had been clean; nearly a decapitation. The slaver's head was hanging from a mere inch of flesh.

  Lucette and Torben hadn't moved. They were frozen more stiff than Simon, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Like a pair of deer in the headlights, about to be flattened by an oncoming truck.

  Simon felt no guilt at the sight – intentionally so. Guilt was a distracting indulgence that he couldn't afford to entertain. He'd already wasted enough time–

  Movement. He jerked back, an arrow sailing through the space where his head had been.

  "Knew it," Relia hissed. Her bow was at the ready, aimed directly at his torso. "Knew you were a snake." Without shifting her gaze from Simon, she motioned frantically at Lucette. "Snap out of it! Heal Ebris!"

  ...Heal?

  The thought had barely entered his mind when Lucette abruptly jerked up, nodding. She rushed over to Ebris, her hands beginning to shine with a gentle, soothing glow, reminiscent of the Sanctuary Tree.

  Simon suppressed a spike of anxiety. Lucette knows magic? His strategy had been predicated on the slavers not having access to fantasy-style healing. They hadn't exhibited magic or mentioned it in any capacity, and he'd searched their carriage for healing potions with Identify, turning up nothing.

  Yet evidently, Lucette could cast healing spells. It just hadn't come up in conversation.

  He grimaced. No plan survives contact with the enemy, but he'd hoped this one would proceed for a bit longer before hitting snags.

  "Speak." Relia glared at him like he was mud she'd scraped off her boot. "Who put you up to this? Was it another crew? Did you kill Ard–"

  Simon summoned one of his broken swords and threw it at Lucette. Ebris' wound was severe, and attempting to heal him might fail, but there was no point in letting her try. Lucette hurriedly flung herself to the side, unnerved by the sudden projectile and the strange blue glow of Inventory.

  Movement again. Relia was firing another arrow. Simon knew he wouldn't be able to dodge this one.

  It shot through the air...and grazed past his body.

  She'd missed.

  Simon exhaled with relief, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Just in time.

  "I...huh?" Relia was at a loss for words. Breathing harshly, she glanced at her hands. They were shaking like leaves caught up in a storm. "Why am I..."

  A hacking cough burst forth from her lungs. The archer staggered, then toppled to her knees, the painted red bow slipping from her grasp. Lucette and Torben went down shortly after. Within seconds, the three remaining slavers were immobilized and on the ground, twitching violently.

  "Sorry," Simon told them, almost meaning it. "Couldn't have won any other way."

  Ebris and Lucette's carriage housed a wide variety of unique items. Their plundered cargo included – but was not limited to – food, weapons, coins, books, clothes of wildly varying sizes, random knick-knacks, textiles, medicines...

  And a section labeled 'poisons and antidotes'.

  Normally, he couldn't have snuck deadly poison straight out from under their noses. However, Ebris and Lucette had been kind enough to leave him alone for extended periods of time, letting him cool off after his spat with Relia. Their carriage was also so cluttered that they hadn't noticed a few missing items among the mess.

  Normally, he wouldn't have known the correct dosages to use. Identify fixed that. It had informed him of the precise amount to slip into the lunch he'd cooked for everyone. With just the right portions, and added spices to mask the poison's flavor, they couldn't even taste the difference.

  Normally, he would have been caught regardless. The slavers were wary folk by nature. However, to Ebris and Lucette, Simon Cobblestone was family...and family was inherently trustworthy. Torben had followed their lead on that. Relia had still been suspicious, but her opinion was overruled by social consensus.

  And besides – even she hadn't expected him to go this far. What kind of lunatic poisoned a meal, then ate it alongside his intended victims?

  The lunatic with Identify telling him which antidotes to take in advance, Simon mused.

  All things considered, his scheme was proceeding rather smoothly. Nothing could be left to chance when planning to assassinate four higher-Level combatants. He had spent most of last night accounting for as many details as possible.

  Except one.

  "Neu...tra...lize."

  A trembling voice called out. White light radiated in his peripheral vision.

  Already knowing what he would find, Simon turned to face Lucette. The woman rapidly stood to her feet, no longer shaking. The light dissipated from her hands, its task completed.

  Healing magic that can cure poison. Fix wounds too, based on how she tried to help Ebris.

  Immediately, he wanted it. Simon was close to asking how she'd learned magic – when Lucette's vicious, hateful glare gave him pause. Her eyes blazed with righteous fury as she drew her longsword from its hilt.

  He pursed his lips. Hmm. Yeah. Don't think playing the 'family' card is gonna get me out of this one.

  Alert: Ebris Twobreath has been slain!

  Your Level and Stats have increased!

  Level: 3 → 4

  Strength: 15 → 17

  Dexterity: 13 →15

  Simon spared a glance for the crumpled slaver. Ebris' body had gone completely still, the flow of spilt blood – and his heartbeat – having come to a halt. The poison kicking in hadn't done him any favors either.

  It was fortuitous timing. Simon had a feeling that he was going to need those four stat points.

  A pained scream tore its way from Lucette's throat as she charged forward. The slaver advanced, and the transmigrator retreated, hefting his stolen longsword.

  Unfortunately, Voice-In-The-Sky's system hadn't granted him any ingrained knowledge of swordsmanship. This was the first day he'd even held a sword that wasn't broken. The most he could do was emulate stances he'd watched in movies and TV shows, and he knew those were hardly effective in real-world scenarios.

  Lucette's blade came down like a battering ram. Simon raised his own to block it. His muscles tensed as she pushed him back, barely retaining his balance.

  With that single exchange, he'd confirmed that he was woefully outclassed. Level 8 wasn't the highest in the world...but it was still double his own. More importantly, while he doubted that the slavers were expert fighters – preying on the weak seemed to be their modus operandi – Lucette was clearly accustomed to wielding a sword. In her hands, it was a weapon.

  Simon may as well have been swinging around a very large stick.

  Putting distance between himself and the rampaging avatar of vengeance in the form of a woman, Simon hastily assessed his options. The Glove of Minor Strength was on cooldown; it couldn't be used for the next hour. He wouldn't win a fair swordfight. Lucette had neutralized her poison.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The only card left remaining to him was his demonic arm. It slightly boosted his right arm's Strength when Shapeshifted, and it would allow access to Demonic Skills like Fell Harvest. With that...he might be able to pull victory from the jaws of defeat.

  However, he was hesitant to reveal it just yet. More than improved Strength or Demonic Skills, what he really valued was the element of surprise. Lucette would be stunned when he shifted his arm– perhaps stunned long enough for him to land a proverbial sucker-punch on her.

  But if that failed too? If he didn't perfectly take advantage of one singular moment?

  Then he would be out of luck and out of options.

  He hurriedly glanced around the battlefield, desperately searching for something to use. Warding Orbs. Limited range on their aura. Lucette is furious – maybe not thinking straight. Could I lure her away from the carriages? Bait her towards Fell Beast territory?

  No. There was no guarantee that a Fell Beast was nearby right now. Even if it was, leading Lucette away from the Warding Orbs would put him in danger as well.

  High risk, with low odds of succeeding.

  His gaze passed over Relia and Torben – then snapped back. Relia was slowly crawling towards her carriage. She looked frail and pathetic, a non-threat. But Torben...

  The man wasn't breathing. His limbs had contorted in agony, his eyes were bulging, and flecks of spittle dotted his lips.

  Simon shoved down his confusion before it could distract him. Why? he still asked. None of the slavers should have died from just the poison. At least not in such a short time. He had carefully measured smaller dosages so that they couldn't taste it in their broth.

  Which also had the side benefit of leaving them on the brink of death instead of killing them outright. On the slim, slim chance that they had actually agreed to turn over a new leaf and abandon their slaving ways, he would've given them antidotes before they expired.

  Unless – unless Torben had suffered from an unusually adverse reaction to the poison. People's bodies reacted differently to foreign substances. Identify couldn't guarantee the same effect for everyone.

  Whoops.

  Although...this could be exactly what he needed. A grin spread across Simon's face as renewed hope surged through him. Killing a Level 8 enemy was probably sufficient to bring him to Level 5. With Lucette breathing down his neck, avoiding death by mere inches, he waited for new system alerts to pop up and shower him in congratulations and four shiny stat points.

  They never came. He didn't even feel the sensation of EXP flowing into his body.

  Why. Why. Why. Simon took a second to calm down, splitting his focus between dodging sword strikes and attempting to figure out why the system had stiffed him on some much-needed Experience. It...wasn't easy. He wouldn't manage for long.

  Thankfully, the answer came quickly. While it was just a theory, he felt confident chalking up the lack of EXP to an intrinsic function of the gods' System – a function implemented to prevent their champion from committing atrocities that were beyond the pale.

  After all, if death by poison gave Experience, then the most expedient way of leveling up would be to poison the watering well of every village he came across.

  The gods had wanted a virtuous hero. Not someone incentivized to commit mass-murder.

  Kinda screws me over in the short term, though. Did a previous champion try poisoning towns? Force the gods to add this stipulation? Simon frowned. Loophole abusers ruin everything, thought the man looking for more loopholes to abuse.

  He ducked under a swing that would have effortlessly lopped his head off. Lucette was strong – far moreso than a woman of her stature should be. Her stats and Levels were heightening her physical parameters, just as they did for Simon.

  Was it time to pull out the demon arm? He hasn't discovered any other viable options. But if he misplayed–

  "Why, Simon?!" Lucette took a break from screaming bloody murder at him, remembering that words existed. Not that she took a break from running him down like a heat-seeking missile. That would've been much too convenient. "Why did you kill Ebris and poison our crew? Was it truly because we refused to free strangers you've never even met before?!"

  No, he thought. I would have killed you anyway. Perhaps they would've set Katarina and Gerold free if he'd pressed the issue...but only to appease him. After he left, they'd have returned to kidnapping people and treating them as objects to be sold.

  It was a simple calculus. Setting the captives free would save just these two people in front of him. Killing the slavers saved everyone they would've gone on to harm in the future.

  Of course, things would have been different if they'd legitimately agreed to abandon their lifestyle and atone...but Simon hadn't really viewed that as a possible outcome. They weren't going to change.

  People rarely did.

  "SPEAK, YOU CRAVEN BETRAYER!" Lucette lunged directly for his heart. Simon dodged sideways, wincing as her strike drew a line of blood across his chest. "EBRIS OFFERED YOU SUCCOR, AND YOU CUT HIS THROAT LIKE NOTHING!"

  Needed to thin the herd. Might have been a problem if all four of you rushed me at once before the poison fully kicked in. And out of everyone here...

  Ebris had lowered his guard when talking. He was also sitting close to Simon at the time – within throat-slicing range. Lastly, he was the highest-Level combatant here.

  Taking him out early was the obvious choice.

  Granted, if Simon had known of Lucette's healing magic, he would've prioritized her instead. You always went for the healer first.

  Lucette being offended over his murder of Ebris was rich, though. They had suggested doing the same thing to a helpless Gerold literally one day prior. The irony hadn't registered in her mind whatsoever.

  It's like I never left Earth. Hypocrisy was a universal constant, it seemed.

  "Am I not worth words to you?" Tears welled in the corners of Lucette's eyes. It didn't hinder her combat efficacy. "We picked you off the road when you could scarcely walk. Fed you. Saved your life. You were...could have been family. Did all of that mean nothing?"

  "It meant everything."

  Lucette froze. Simon struck forward, seizing the moment, but she casually parried him away. Her skillful blade and stupefied expression made for an almost comedic contrast.

  "Without you, I would be dead," the transmigrator continued, his voice filling with sincere gratitude. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

  It wasn't a ruse intended to mislead her. Nor was it a taunt, gloating about how he'd fooled them.

  It was merely the truth.

  For reasons that Simon didn't quite understand, Lucette's anger re-ignited with roaring fervor, more passionate and unsettling than ever before. She let out a noise of demented rage, the sound echoing up from the abyss of her soul.

  This time she was the one to back up, putting distance between them. Perhaps that change in behavior should have tipped him off to something being wrong.

  By the time he'd stopped being relieved and started being suspicious, it was too late. The woman had extended an arm towards him. Her hand pulsed with a fiery red aura, mana gathering in the center of her palm, the air heating up like a sauna.

  She spoke in an ice-cold whisper as the blazing fury in her eyes became reality.

  "Scorch."