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."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  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

  4 stat points added to Unspent Points! Allocate them at will!