Chapter 010 Perspectives

In dwelling, live close to the ground.

*******

Claudia tried to deflect his attention at once.

"Sure, Octavia is over there, she has the-"

"We will head over in a minute," Neron interrupted gently, and started making his way outside the encampment set up around the dungeon's entrance.

Probably sensing something in his tone, Claudia didn't make further attempts and quietly followed her brother. It was only when they were a ways out and around the hillock that Neron spoke again, eyes locked to the sky as if he was on a Sunday stroll.

"Did you know," he started conversationally. "That I have been learning about video games recently? Mostly about their history and the culture surrounding them."

"You mentioned it over breakfast last week," Claudia said, just as lightly.

"Did I?" That would have been right around the time Medea had recommended it, so she was probably correct. "Well, I am hardly an expert on the subject, even with the time compression. Still, I have come across a few ideas and theories that I have found interesting."

"Like?"

"Little things like how puzzle games used to help with mental diseases prevention. Or that while the idea that there is a causation between video games and violence has been long disproven, there has not been a consensus on whether players of video games, when given the option between the two, are more likely to choose the more violent option in said games over peaceable one. And, even more contentious, if they would make the same way they would act in the same situation in the real world."

"...Fascinating."

"I think so. The issue with said studies are the same as every other of its nature. We can not replicate the same conditions as that of the game. Even if your character is punished for a murder they commit in a game, the player will not go to prison. So, unless we are willing to go to extremes, we will never know if someone is acting violently because they can get away with it or because they do not care if they can not."

"... Don't you hate studies on morality? 'Inherently flawed' aren't they?"

"Correct. But this is not morality. It is psychology. You know how much I enjoy learning about people. And I can not help but be fascinated by the question that this study indirectly poses. It is not a new question, but it is one that video games are uniquely useful in asking."

There was a moment of silence as they got further and further from everyone else, but Claudia eventually realized he wouldn't speak further unless she did.

"What question is that?"

"Is the 'us' we exhibit when we do not face negative consequences closer to the true 'us' that we exhibit when we do?"

Claudia stopped.

Neron did too, but he didn't turn to face her.

"If someone who normally displays none of such a behavior suddenly acts sadistic and violent when they can get away with it, are they a sadistic and violent person? Only constrained by laws and the consequences of breaking them?"

Finally, Neron turned around.

Claudia, no Trau, wouldn't meet his eyes. Her fists were clenched, as were her teeth.

Not because she was afraid of punishment, or that he'd raise his voice, or that he reprove her. He'd never done any of that, not once. It simply wasn't who he was.

No, Gus knew his sisters. Had raised them for the last decade and a half.

And he knew they were different from himself in so many little ways.

He'd never met his genetic parents and never cared enough to try and track them down. They had happy memories of theirs and remembered their death. He'd been an adult when Julia decided enough was enough. They'd been preteens. He knew what effect he had had on them. Their insecurities. Abandonment issues. They used to hate Fien because they feared she'd take him from them. Even now, they were barely friendly. 

Gus was the only constant in their ever shifting world.

So, Neron had to be careful, lest he accidentally destroy their carefully built world.

But this was one of his best skills.

When you know how to destroy something, you know what to avoid.

Neron started walking again. Slower this time.

"Of course, as much as I find the question interesting, I also consider it absurd." As he passed his sister on his way back to the encampment, he began to speak once more. "While the study of people's behavior under differing circumstances is valuable to understanding the human psyche, the idea that one has a 'true' self is inherently flawed, as are all claims of objective states of being."

He heard her breath hitch, and he continued conversationally, as if they were just talking about the weather.

"If we were to continue with violence as an example, the question is not whether one is inherently violent because they use it as a tool when not fearing repercussions. The question, instead, should be: what purpose does violence serve? If a game is something created and engaged with to provide enjoyment, then if one finds violence to be enjoyable it serves the same purpose as non-violent games."

"…Some people think that it isn't fear of consequences that should be important but whether you are inflicting it on an actual person… Or a Native that is indistinguishable from one."

"Ah. Ethics." Neron said the word with some distaste. Perhaps he should be a bit clearer. "As it is inherently subjective, do you mind if I just give my perspective?"

"...Sure."

"In the abstract, violence is a sub-optimal tool for the advancement of society, the species, or the individual. It is a waste of resources in time, people, material, and effort.” Neron did not spare anything from his blunt observation. He did not look back to see his sister’s reaction to his words and just continued.

“Of course, my answer, like everyone else's, changes when it is more related to me. I do not so much concern myself with the 'right' use of violence, or whether it is 'good' but rather what benefit or detriment it brings me. I, like everyone here, kill to increase my level. Just as the ratmen attempted to do to me. No better. No worse. My preference is simply that my allies, not my enemies, are more successful in the use of violence. I do not consider that to be a wild or irregular preference either.”

"And what if there is no tangible gain? What if... it's violence for violence's sake?"

"Violence is not a being. It is an action committed by beings. You mean is 'what if someone fights, kills, or inflicts pain just for the pleasure of doing so,'" Neron half corrected.

“…Yeah. Just for pleasure.”

"I would argue that pleasure, itself, is a tangible gain. It is in our nature to search for pleasure, whatever form it takes. Life, being the infinite random number generator that it is, ensures that some of us will find pleasure in ways that others do not. That does not mean said pleasure is inherently better or worse than other forms."

"But some forms of pleasure are considered wrong. Someone who enjoys eating meat is much more acceptable than someone who enjoys the act of killing."

"Again, we have strayed into the topic of ethics, but you are correct. Baring plants, who absorb sunlight, all life forms need to kill and consume other life to exist. Actually, the soil is made up of dead life, so even they can not escape the inherent cannibalism of life. The arbitrary lines we draw vary person to person, society to society, place to place. Again, I can only give you my perspective: the more I care about the person, the more I find acceptable."

"Really?"

"Surprised? Quite black and white, when you come down to it."

Neron stopped, as he didn't wish to get closer to the camp until they were done. He turned and almost frowned at the naked hope in his sister's eyes. He didn't though. That would send the wrong message. Instead, he smiled softly.

Unlike Medea, his sisters never had a problem accepting his smiles.

"I do not particularly care for what other people or society consider right or wrong. All I care about is the people involved. If we wish to continue the hypothetical that someone I cared about discovered they found pleasure in inflicting pain and using violence, then I would be less concerned about the ethical implications and more invested in ensuring their particular needs were being met in such a way to minimize negative consequences and maximize positive ones. I would probably encourage them to explore said pleasures in a safe manner, either with other consenting adults or through legal methods, such as virtual or augmented reality technology."

"And what if they are rotten to the core? What if, one day, it isn't enough?"

Ah. So that was a part of the issue. Not just the game, but what happens after the game ends. Here he'd been worried his sisters weren't planning for the future. It was honestly a relief.

And realization of his own myopia. This was greater than just not wanting to disappoint their older brother. 

How egotistical of him.

"In such a scenario, I would remind them that life outside the game is different. There are much worse consequences and thus much greater caution is required."

"...It won't come to that."

"I do not honestly think it will," Neron's smile became a touch more real at the conviction in his sister’s voice. "After all, we're just talking hypotheticals."

"Of course," Claudia finally gave him a smile. One filed with relief, mischief and amusement. "Hypotheticals."

"In the spirit of such a hypothetical," Neron said casually, resuming his walk back to camp. Both their steps were a bit lighter. "I would remind that hypothetical person I care about two things. One, that many hands make light work."

"And the other?"

"That Earth is much more chaotic and less safe than Mars. People go missing there all the time. Some of which are never found. Hypothetically."

Claudia's laughter drew attention as they went to find their last sibling.

And if some of the looks she received were filled with fear? Well, Neron wasn't going to tell his sisters how to live their life. He was just here to give them a bit of help if they needed him too.

Judging by how even the most terrified still held a modicum of respect when looking at the Banshee behind him, Neron didn't think they did.

Neron was more than slightly amused to note that the number of people who recognized her was small though.

Maybe one out of ten, and only of the chaperones. Not one of the trainees even gave them a second look beyond what one could expect a beautiful woman to receive.

Speaking of, it seemed like the trainees had left the dungeon, most sporting wounds of one type or another. A rough comparison to the number of people this morning told Neron that less than half had died. More than expected but still within what the Halls could accept.

Greck's large frame was easy to find in the crowd, being one of the few orcs in the area, and beside him was Ingrid. They were standing in a group with Fallon, Polo, Clarence and Badul. Ysold's Hall had emerged unscathed it seemed. It looked like they'd be the target next season as well.

Neron didn't head in their direction though. Instead, he made his way toward the booth Furu was working at, a sizable pile of ratmen corpses piled up beside it.

"Do you mind finding Octavia," he asked his sister, gesturing to the booth. "I should help here." In other words, if he didn't the old man would be insufferable, and he'd ruin the cordial relationship they had going on. Better to put in the work now than to get a lecture on being a 'good adventurer' later.

"Don't bother." Or at least, that had been the plan before they were waylaid by Ysold. The normally composed hall master was looking distinctly frazzled.

Behind her he saw Octavia being quietly smug.

"Your training fees have been covered," Ysold continued. "You no longer need to work for us and may use a room in the dormitory if you wish."

Hmm. Not a bad eventuality, but how to spin it?

"Oh, that will not be a problem. I have a place already." Neron waved off the offer gently, trying to assuage the sting his sister's actions and words had no doubt inflicted on Ysold's pride. By the set of Octavia's lips, his words weren't what she intended but Neron didn't let that stop him. "And, if you do not mind, I would actually like to keep helping out. Maybe not as often, but I have learned a lot from you all and a lot of it has been outside regular hours."

Grumpy as he was, Furu was a font of information that most players didn't have access to for the simple fact he was old enough to be an adventurer before they had arrived. He gave insight Neron couldn't get from his studies or perusal of various forums.

On the other hand, the trainers were accomplished adventurers in their own right who'd spent time with high level players before retiring. They were all a human resource Neron didn't wish to lose.

"I won't stop you if that is your wish, but you will be compensated for any work you perform," Ysold declared, and he noticed her back was a little straighter. "We have a set rate for interim workers when we need extra hands. Twenty Culs an hour."

"That is more than enough," Neron agreed easily, converting the local currency into thirteen and a third coppers. Certainly not a living wage, but something that could give an enterprising teen some pocket money for a few hours of work.

Once more, it struck Neron how much money his sisters must be making. Pretty much every player used coinage of copper, iron, silver, and gold for convenience’s sake. Their material value was almost universal for day to day living on the lower end or enchanting on the upper.

The Bank made a fraction of a fraction of a percent on any currency exchange but the sheer number of transactions that must take place every day meant that they'd be making money by the ship load. It was practically a necessity for anyone traveling between Leidon, Calderine, and any independent polity. If it weren't for their, quite smart in his eyes, desire to reinvest said gains in their enterprise, their small family might not have to find another occupation for two or three centuries.

Then again, Neron wasn't exactly sure of the conversion rate of coinage in game to external currencies, as it was wholly on a supply/demand basis for individual players rather than something systematic. He simply knew that his sisters had already made enough to cover household expenses for the decade it'd take him to get his degree if he wished.

"You should negotiate for more," Octavia said sourly, stepping beside the Hall master. Neron saw Ysold's eyes widen in panic as she looked toward the taller woman and opened her mouth, possibly to offer more, but the Banker forestalled her. "Don't bother. If he says it's fine, it's fine. He's just an idiot whose sense of value is broken. Here."

"Thanks," Neron's smile was tinged with wry amusement as he accepted the small parcel from his sister. Looking from it to Octavia then Claudia, he tilted his head. "When are we planning dinner?"

He pretended not to notice how Ysold's feet were turned away or how her shoulders were tilted. She clearly did not want to be here.

"A bit later than usual," Claudia answered. "Around eight, so you still have about a day and a half if you want to use that."

"I can cook if you two are busy."

"Don't bother," Octavia sighed. "We have our meeting with the court and other guild leaders tomorrow night so we wouldn't be able to make it any earlier."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"You can keep playing."

"Then I will see you girls later." Neron pocketed the parcel, gave Ysold a nod and Octavia another word of thanks before making his way to the disassembly booth.

Furu's only acknowledgement was a grunt and a carcass thrown onto the table in front of him.

Neron set his hands to slicing into the bloody hide of the corpses as his mind settled down, his plan for the future already complete.

Tomorrow, he'd complete his promise to Jorry, which would bind the serpent to him until he finished with God’s Nature. From there, he'd kill time by reading at Optim's, his studies on the history of games, and using his connections to keep an ear out for any changes to the Bank's fortunes.

Neron didn't expect anything drastic, but having an ear to the ground wouldn't hurt. Maybe he'd spend a season in a different training Hall. If he kept his rat-catching business going he'd probably be able to afford one.

Neron took a moment to give Calvin and the Bank's trainees a smile as they passed.

The new recruits returned it, enthusiastically in Eclair's case, but Calvin said something to them, and they fell in line. The trainer shot Neron a look as well, one Neron couldn't parse without more context but was certainly far from his usual easy confidence. He also didn’t stop by to pick up his corpse tracker token.

Hmm. The manager had certainly seen Neron interacting with his sisters and knew who they were. Neron would need to do some damage control there if he wished to keep his inside man.

How to play it though? And would he tell the party accompanying him?

If not, then the loss of confidence with the manager could be made up with a closer relationship with the promising new recruits. It wouldn't be hard to exploit Eclair's clear interest, even if maintaining the behavior pattern that had tickled her interest instead of steadily smoothing it out would be an inconvenience.

Hopefully it wouldn't be needed, and he could play up his ignorance, something that wasn't totally fake, to keep himself in Calvin's good graces.

******

Calvin fought to keep his back straight and eyes forward as the Banker surveyed his team.

"Not bad."

The compliment sounded less like praise for a subordinate and more like the banal words of a CEO reviewing last quarter's earnings. As if the casual warmth he'd seen her display only twenty minutes ago had been a lie.

A lie Calvin still didn't believe, despite having seen it himself.

"Thank you for your words, Ma'am," Calvin said instead of giving voice to any of the many, many questions he had. He knew what she really wanted to know. "They accomplished their mission and their skill synergies are at the diamond level with potential to reach platinum once they reach their third Step and Tinder gains his second Job."

The young woman looked over the group of nervous newbies with a gimlet eye and once more Calvin cursed his propensity for cold women. It wasn't the first time it had gotten him in trouble, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Then he cursed for a different reason as a ghostly blue bundle of war crimes and suffering scurried between his legs and clambered up the Banshee's body to perch on her shoulder. It gestured to his recruits energetically as its mouth moved soundlessly. He was one of the few to know that it wasn’t actually talking, the Banshee just made it look so because it amused her.

He felt more than saw or heard the minute 'aww's and 'cute's and even a 'So chubby' and it was all the manager could do not to shout at the onlookers to not be fooled.

The bushy tail was formed of souls and its round cheeks were stuffed with agony of the dead and dying!

His recruits, at least, didn't react. Small mercies. Calvin knew that was more from nerves than actual understanding of the abomination that had been following them without their knowledge, his included, actually was.

"He's right," the Banshee eventually said, and Calvin felt his bowels unclench. "Above and beyond, even. They have talent." Calvin felt pride at his team swell... "Except-" ...only to pop like he'd been stabbed by a rusty spork. "They ignored Neron's warning."

"I see."

Why hello there Terror. Fancy meeting you here. Have you met Panic and Dread?

"We- That is I- judged our mission took priority." Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up Krill! Stop talking! "If we had left the main chamber we'd have-"

"Quiet."

There was a click of a jaw shutting abruptly.

Then silence. Even the sound of the rest of the camp went unheard.

It was hard for Calvin to judge the Banker's expression, dispassionate as it was, yet he could detect a hint of displeasure and that was more than enough for his butt hole to pucker.

"To expect you to know who he was would be irrational. The Bank is a meritocracy. Efficiency is to be prided and waste to be avoided. Success is rewarded. Failure is punished. I will not waste the time and effort invested in you over something like that. Thus, within the confines of your mission, you will all be credited with a success. And a mark."

"But-""Eclair!" Calvin barked, shutting up the woman before she could dig them a deeper hole.

"The mark is because you failed to respond appropriately when someone reported an abnormality in a dungeon." The clinical explanation, as if not caring that she was interrupted, was infinitely more disturbing than rage. "If this were a wild dungeon, you would all be dead for your stupidity. Months of progress, tens of thousands in equipment, and thrice that in reputational damage would all be lost because you did not take appropriate precautions. Any abnormality in a dungeon should be immediately investigated, and the situation re-evaluated."

"If the dungeon's Spirit wasn't about to shatter, it'd have chewed you up and swallowed what was left." Don't look like that, you maniac! No, a smile did not make your words any less disturbing. In fact, it was worse. Much worse. "Face it kids, the only reason you’re here and not ratmen droppings is because they were all acting on instinct. One Elite coordinating things and you'd have died."

"As you are still learning, the mark will fade if there are no further incidents before you reach your third Step or its equivalent." The Banker smiled then, a cold thing without a trace of joy. "I will double your rewards if you manage to achieve it within a year and triple if you achieve it before level one hundred."

Calvin's heart stilled at the words.

The Bank was already generous with rewarding its internal members' progress. Triple would be enough to fund the team till two hundred. And the challenge itself was possible, even reasonable, if difficult. It would require a lot of time and effort committed, and the margin for error was slim as a death at the wrong time could spell the end, but it was very much possible.

Only, the team already had a mark against them. If they fucked up and got another because they were recklessly pushing for a better reward...

Calvin wished he was a better person.

If he was, he'd tell his team to ignore the challenge and focus on slow and steady growth. If he was a better person, he'd focus more on the danger than the way that sharp, cold smile did things to him that had nothing to do with fear.

But Calvin, like everyone at the Bank, was greedy. He would gamble with these recruits' futures on a coin flip and hope it came up heads.

"Now that that business is settled." Calvin hated to see that smile disappear almost as much as he hated to see the Banker step back and the Banshee step forward. Almost. "Claudia?"

"Right-oh!"

The psychopath had no right to sound so cheerful. Especially as Calvin's team keeled over, bodies hitting the ground loud enough that the manager would have been more concerned if his own vision was darkening around the edges. He only managed to keep on his feet because he was locking his body in place.

"Like sis said, we don't really blame ya for not knowing who big bro is. In fact, we're not really advertising our relationship. All the usual melodrama reasons, I'm sure you understand. Groan in pain if you do."

""""""Uuurrrgggh.""""""

"Great! I'm sure everyone else here will keep their mouths shut. If they know what's good for them, at least. But you all are different." It would have been harder to pay attention to the woman's words through the dizziness and nausea if it weren't for the fact they were the source of said discomfort. "See, Neron will be talking to you again, I'd bet my scythe on it. Soooooooo... What're you gonna do when he does?"

""""""Uuurrrgggh.""""""

"Exactly. Everything he says. He wants information? You give it. He tells you to do something? You do it. His stomach gets the rumblies? You have a five-course meal ready and waiting."

Calvin felt something brush his cheek and he stiffened, knowing there was no way it was either of the twins who were touching him.

"Let me be perfectly clear." The cheerfulness was gone and Calvin wanted it back. "You are going to treat my brother as if he were us. Both of us."

'Or else.'

It was kind of hard to miss the point when phantasmal fangs longer than your hand were gently nibbling at your Spirit.

"Then I think we are done for the day," The Banker said, and it was as if everything, the dizziness, headache, ringing in his ears, the nausea, all of it had been an illusion. As the only one still standing, Calvin was the only one who caught the small nod of acknowledgement the richest player gave them all as she bade them farewell. "Good work today. I look forward to hearing of your progress."

Even after the pair had boarded their carriage and were rolling away his team still hadn't stood back up. Calvin didn't blame them for taking the opportunity to lay down and breathe. It was always disconcerting when one realized what sort of power the upper scale of players held. Especially if they experienced it firsthand.

Better they experience it now. One day they'd realize that players, even the highest-level ones on their Fifth Step, were still only babies compared to some of the old monsters in this world.

If they wanted to get to the top they'd need to confront this powerlessness at some point.

Unfortunately, they didn't have a choice anymore. Either they became part of the Bank's elite or that mark on their file would ruin their characters' future.

Poor Tinder. He didn't have the option of deleting his life and being reborn. His best bet would be to wander into the wild and hope he made it far enough that hunting him wouldn't be worth the cost.

Calvin, unfortunately, didn't have the luxury of taking a moment to recuperate. As soon as the dizziness had faded, he straightened himself to look around, seeing what sort of reaction this show received from the other Halls and Guilds.

Only nobody was paying them any extra attention. A few looks here and there, but nothing that having five people laid out on the ground would usually attract. A flex of his Knowledge stat pointed out that the few eyes on them were not lining up with their actual bodies and he could guess that they were under an illusion of some sort.

The fact that it was almost certainly to protect the Bank's reputation did nothing to diminish the shiver down his spine.

Anything could have happened to them, and nobody here would have been able to tell.

"Get up," Calvin ordered, aware that neither the Banker or the Banshee were kind enough to leave this illusion on for long. If they weren't presentable by the time it dissipated, then they could kiss any hope of ascending the ranks goodbye. "Everyone on their feet and Scrubbed in ten seconds."

There was some light grumbling from Krill, Eclair, and Pearl, but they accomplished his order without fuss, running their hands over any patch of dirt or grass on their clothes with the basic spell.

"That sucked," Krill sighed as he stretched his back.

"It was not an experience I wish to repeat," Karn, his wife, agreed plainly. The face on the screen of the floating monitor that showed the personAl was contorted in a way that was distinctly impossibly on a flesh and blood human.

"Is it too late to quit?" Eclair joked.

"Yes." Calvin deadpanned, but he cracked a smirk. "At least with your current character. You want to start over? And miss out on triple the rewards?"

"I pledge my undying loyalty to the Bank!"

The fake exuberance and sloppy military salute got some chuckles from the rest of the team, and the tension was well and truly broken.

Which was good, because Calvin noticed the looks from the other chaperones were now actually focused on them.

Were they still being watched? How else could they know when to dissolve the illusion? Banishing the memory of fangs nibbling at his Spirit, the manager forced himself to relax.

Even if they were being surveyed, there was nothing he could do about it.

"I feel bad for him though," Eclair said as she dropped the fake salute.

"Him?"

"Neron," Eclair answered Pearl's question.

Almost as one, they all looked over to the disassembly booth where the man in question was working quietly. He paused briefly to pass his pet snake to an orc with a smile, who placed the tiny creature delicately on his neck.

"He's related to the Banker. He's set for like, two centuries. At least," Krill snorted.

"Don't know," Tinder pursed his lips. "Doesn't look rich to me."

"Exactly," Eclair nodded somberly. "Can you imagine growing up with bi-" "Eclair." "-Women like that? No wonder he's so baby."

Calvin, who knew Neron a bit better, didn't feel the need to tell them the nerves would mostly subside as he became more comfortable with them. He wasn’t ‘baby,’ just shy.

They'd learn themselves if they got that close.

"They seem to care about him, at least," Krill shrugged.

"They want to control him, more likely."

"Eclair," Calvin warned again. "It's none of our business. We just need to do as we're told."

"I'm just saying," Eclair shrugged helplessly. It would have been more believable if not for the grin on the short woman's face. "Maybe he needs someone to talk to. An older woman who can heal all his wounds. Give him some TLC." Then she paused, frowning, and turned to Pearl. "He's an adult right? It's hard to tell with Martians in their first century."

"Of course he is," Calvin frowned, wondering what she was talking about. If he was Octavia's older brother, he had to be.

"He is," Pearl nodded. "Probably not in his second half-century but definitely older than twenty-five."

"And his sisters?" Suddenly Calvin felt very nervous.

"Younger, at least five years, but also adults."

The manager let out an internal sigh. He'd known she was younger than him but had no desire to get involved with someone who wasn't fully mature. His country’s standard for adulthood wasn’t as strict, being only twenty years old, but he still didn’t like the prospect that they were much younger than his initial estimation.

Then again, there was no way someone like the Banker was a child. And Neron knew of his... appreciation for his sister. He'd have warned Calvin, wouldn't he?

…Right?

"How can you tell?" Krill asked.

…Unless he didn't know his sister was the Banker.

Neron had been very ignorant when first joining the game. Hadn't even known common terms like DPS, or AOE.

Shit, he totally didn’t know his sister was the Banker, did he?

"You know how you can tell someone is in their second century or their first? Even though they look practically unchanged? It's the same," Pearl admitted. "Just habit and practice. It's not just you guys. I have trouble telling Earthlings' ages."

Maybe Eclair was right and growing up with little sisters like that wasn’t the best for the young man's development. They were clearly keeping things from him.

"What makes you two different?" Tinder asked curiously, looking toward the sky as if he could see a planet. "Beside where you live, I mean."

"Mars is a smaller planet, thus its gravity is lower. This leads to side effects, such as the human spine straightening. The real concern is that long term time in reduced gravity has a negative effect on cell division and bone connections. To combat this any person expecting to spend more than two months beyond Earth's gravity must have their nanocells adjusted to calibrate for the difference. This has a secondary effect on children who grow up with said calibration, leading to an average of one fifth increase in physical proportions."

"Basically, they're bigger," Krill interpreted for his wife. "A few inches for those born on Earth that move there, or about a foot, foot and a half, for those born and raised there."

"Negative. The nanocells simply supplement DNA that is already there. Being born on Mars is not a determining factor. It is the hormonal influx, denser musculature and bone structure that is calibrated during growth to prevent health issues. In fact, over thirty seven percent of Martian citizens are born on Earth due to the difficulties of conception in lower gravity."

"They're bigger," Eclair repeated and Karn's screen started pouting. "Just a rule of thumb, but a good one. Like the big guy. He's less than half my age but could fold me in half. Mmmm. Maybe thirds."

"Must you speak like that?" Pearl wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Some of us have class."

"Bet he's one of those gentle types," Eclair ignored her party member to continue. Or perhaps she was doing it to get a rise out of her. "I'd have to really get him going if I wanted something like that. He looked so proud when he brought those ratmen back. Probably never hurt a fly before. Bet I can teach him."

"Negative. Neron's actions lead me to believe he plays Gods' Nature without a filter."

Eclair's teasing grin disappeared as she blanched. Nor was she the only one. Both Krill and Pearl were looking vaguely nauseous.

"What?" Tinder asked, looking at their reactions. "What does that mean?"

"Most players don't see the world you do. We see it through one or two filters." Calvin answered. "Simplifies some images. Saturates color. Makes things appear less... real. Like we're in a really well-done drawing. It also removes details that some would consider... distressing."

They all watched Neron cut open a ratman, casually reaching in with his bare hands to remove the inner organs which he tossed into a bucket, and set about gently slicing the skin from the sinew.

All of them saw it as if it were something from a game. An animated cut-scene, almost.

Tinder was the only one who could notice the small pieces of flesh in between Neron's nails, the distorting color of the blood, or the way wind set the ratman’s fur slightly swaying.

"That's bullshit," the normally taciturn man swore. "You don't feel pain and now you don't even see the same thing we do? Fucking Players."

"If you could, would you choose to deal with pain and blood and guts?" Pearl shrugged awkwardly. That didn't make the Native feel any better. "It's mostly for legal reasons, anyway. All children have both filters turned on. They can turn off the first when they turn eighteen and the second when their adults. Most keep the last one on, though."

"Fucking." Tinder deadpanned, looking Pearl square in the eyes. "Players."

"It is because players can ignore pain and trauma that we've been able to expand so quickly," Calvin interjected. If he let this resentment fester it could lead to damage to team cohesion. "Calderine would still be by itself, surrounded by powerful monsters. We wouldn't be exploring the continent or have the amount of wealth we do now. Who knows how many other cities are still out there, cut off from each other because it's too dangerous to venture far."

"Plus," Krill tried to reassure his party member with a smile. "If we want to become some of the best, we'll need to turn off our filters too. All high-level players have them off. Right?"

"Not all of them," Calvin clarified. "But the best do. Being able to notice small details is just too much of an advantage at higher levels and every little bit helps."

"Doesn't your Nature advance faster if you play without them?" Krill asked.

"An unsubstantiated rumor," Karn denied. "It is possible, however there are testimonies stating that it is untrue. Until a credited study is conducted, it remains simply hearsay."

"Think that's why he doesn't have them," Eclair asked, worrying her lip. "Think his sisters forced him to remove them for the advantage?"

If her concern before had been largely exaggerated, Calvin felt it was a touch more real now. Which was dangerous.

"Or he simply did not know he could turn them on at all," the manager offered, hoping to divert their attention. At their disbelieving looks, he smiled. "This is the kid's first game. Had no idea what he was doing when we met. Didn't even know how to open his stat screen."

He let them think about that for only a moment, before diverting their attention.

"Now that's enough about stuff that isn't our business. Do you all intend to meet the Banker's challenge?"

"We do," Krill answered after sharing a look with his team.

"Then we need to start right away."

Calvin led his team toward their mounts, shooting a smile and wave at Neron as their eyes met and receiving one in return.

The manager could admit he was also concerned. Even if Neron wasn't being forced by his sisters to play without filters, the man was still dealing with content that would traumatize most modern people. Natives got a pass because they simply didn't know any different way of life. Neron wasn't like that though.

What was his home life like that he could smile and wave while covered in blood and guts?

******