Chapter 012 Void

The meaning of life is that it stops.

******

Claudia wasn't slow.

Without a Body, her Spirit moved as quickly as her Control would allow.

As a player on her Fifth Step, with a two to one ratio specialty, it was an absurd speed that would have torn a regular human to pieces. Without physical form, she didn't have to worry about paltry limits like sound or air barriers.

Piercing the enchanted barriers around the palace, some of the greatest known yet in their passive state, took ten seconds.

Traveling from the royal district and over the noble quarter took one second.

Passing through over the inner wall's barrier took two seconds.

Reaching the Optimal Read took less than a second.

Between getting the notification of her brother's death and arriving at his still warm corpse, less than fifteen seconds had passed.

The vermin were still feasting.

Rage unlike anything Claudia had ever felt kindled in her breast, and she could almost feel her un-beating heart pump phantasmal blood to her head.

Her arrival scared the rats and mice, scattering them into the darkness of the bookshelves.

"Tch."

A click of her tongue.

That was all it took.

Everything died.

Within ten meters of her, every living being, from the dust mites to the largest of rats, died screaming in pain.

Claudia was not her brother. She could not understand anything from their squeals and screams in that brief second of pain they experienced between the sound reaching them and their weak, low-level bodies giving out in pain.

It was nowhere near enough to slate the rage, grief, and fear that the sight of half-eaten eyes curdled in her gut.

They stared up at her, more pulp than anything else. They were accusing in their emptiness.

His shredded tongue, torn to pieces as rats fed on the soft flesh, whispered vitriol. His mangled throat bulged in a soundless scream only she could hear.

Claudia turned, unable to bear the weight of the ruined gaze as she collapsed behind a bookshelf.

She wept.

She wailed.

She keened.

And then Claudia got back up.

Rubbing the black smears from her cheeks, the Banshee directed Chippers to consume the pain the vermin had left behind with their death. It wasn't a lot, being weak and only one or two having a Self worth mentioning, but any little bit helped.

Secondly, Claudia stripped Neron's corpse of anything of worth. The clothes were ruined but they were the beginner gear he’d started in so it was no loss.

She also took the opportunity to slip a few gold coins into his money pouch. Just enough to be of help yet not enough that he'd notice the difference of weight right away. Once he'd noticed, he'd roll his eyes and deem returning it not worth the effort.

Finally, she summoned another skill-created spirit, Chalupa, to consume the corpses. While the chupacabra fed, a few conjured Echoes cleaned up the shop and Claudia planted herself on a nearby chair.

Rain started to fall outside. Lightly at first, before giving way to a heavier battering.

With her sensitivity to noise, she could hear the city through the walls as their people organized the beginning of the festivities. They were just waiting for a signal from Octavia to set everything off.

‘The beginning of a new age.’ ’Celebrations for the new city.’ ‘First city established since the Woe.’

A celebration, advertisement, and money-making scheme all in one. A monument to Player achievement, even if most never comprehended the real work that went on behind the scenes.

Urugalkin wasn’t simply a city. It wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

Urugalkin was simply the first pound of flesh two girls had torn from this world.

There’d be so much more.

Yet what would it matter when one of the reasons they were caving this world up might not be there to enjoy it with them?

… Void, what was she going to do?

One thing was clear, however. Her Curse was much worse now that she wasn't using a filter. Neron's death had been the first to trigger the Curse since she'd become an adult and able to remove her filter, on top of it being much worse visually than many before. Adding in the implications this death had and there was a good possibility that it wouldn't get worse than this, but she couldn't risk collapsing any time Octavia died.

Speaking of implications...

Claudia let out a world-weary sigh as she stared up at the ceiling.

The rage, grief, and regret weren't being magnified by her Curse anymore, but they didn't go away. They wouldn't until she knew what state Neron was in.

It wasn't that she and Octavia hadn't expected him to die. They had. They weren't even interested in preventing it. Both Claudia's Haunting and Octavia's Surveillance had only been triggered on his death, showing them where and how he died.

If you played God’s Nature enough, you were going to die. That was a simple fact. It was how you reacted to your death that determined whether the game was right for you. The worse the death, the worse the impact.

Neron's death was as terrible as Claudia had ever heard of for a new player.

Ambushed in a place of perceived safety. Helpless to move. Killed by something you thought yourself better than. A comrade dying in front of you. Dying bloodily. Dying slowly.

One or two of those alone had been enough to ruin many a Player.

All combined?

On a first death?

It would have triggered the game's trauma protection, ejecting Neron from the game for his mental safety.

That was the good news. The sole silver lining in this mess. At least he wouldn't have suffered for long. Combined with the pain-inhibitors, and Neron would be alright.

At least mostly.

The problem was that Gus' situation was... delicate.

He wasn't so fragile that she feared this would push him over the edge or anything. Nor did she believe he'd even argue for them to quit playing God’s Nature themselves.

No, it was the possibility that he'd quit the game, as so many others had done, that terrified her.

God’s Nature was their last hope at saving their brother. At least without doing something drastic. If he could only find the joy in the game that they and many others had, then they might not fear him being Lost to them.

Not that he saw the problem.

Claudia cursed her brother for his thickheadedness.

Claudia cursed Julia for what she'd done to him.

Claudia cursed Fien for rejecting him.

Claudia cursed herself and her twin for being a burden, for putting him in this situation, and for not knowing how to help him.

But curses only mattered to those who heard them, who felt their pain and despair, and Claudia was the only one here.

Chalupa rubbed against her thigh and Claudia shot a glance over the shop as she was torn from her self-recriminations.

The books were out of order, a few were stained, and the opposite shelf had splintered but apart from that the place was clean. Not even bloodstains remained from the grisly scene.

Checking the time, seeing that around fifteen minutes had passed since Neron's death, Claudia dismissed her Echos and logged out, waiting the five minutes to ensure that her body disappeared with her.

Gus wouldn’t have wanted to talk to her right away, wanting to give everything some thought. Four minutes should be enough for Gus to process his experience and make his initial conclusions yet still be early enough that he’d be receptive to other input.

Claudia just hoped he was calm enough to listen to her plead her case. Her brother usually wasn't one to react emotionally, but he'd never died before, so Claudia had no clue how he was handling it.

******

Death was... empty.

It was not dark. Darkness implied an absence of light. Of a sense of sight.

It was not quiet. Quietude implied lack of noise. Of a sense of hearing.

There was no sense of smell. There was no sense of taste. There was no sense of touch. There was no sense of balance.

Death lacked the multitude of secondary senses that accompanied humans from the moment of birth.

Death was empty.

It was empty of form. Of meaning. Of purpose.

Death was.

It could be different.

With one filter, Neron would have been locked in the Tomb, a room with a simple chair, to wait out his resurrection.

With both filters, Neron would be in the Playground, a sunlit lawn of lush grass and flowers, to wait out his resurrection.

Neron had died without any of those filters. He could not turn them on, for the only systematic ability granted to players in death was the ability to leave the game, even if it came at a cost.

Neron did not mind.

Death was freeing.

In its emptiness of sensation that denuded life, death gave a clarity to Neron's mind as nothing before. The only thing comparable would be the few times he'd visited sensory deprivation chambers in the past and that was no true comparison for there was no way to separate the mind from the flesh and body was constantly sensing.

Existing.

That was all this was.

Existing without flesh or sensations.

Death proved his existence.

Any other time, Neron might have marveled at the possible applications the pods possessed. More than a simple game, the combination of the limited time dilation and divorce of mind and body could revolutionize so many fields. Everything from philosophy and medicine to the simple possibility of use in judicial systems.

But this was not any other time.

Neron had died.

He'd died slowly and bloodily. Eaten alive by rats and mice. In an ambush while he'd been minding his own business.

Neron... didn't know how to feel. Angry? Scared? Vengeful? He didn't have the experience in his nearly half century of life to compare to what he'd gone through.

Intellectually, he was of two minds.

There was the part of him that recognized his experience as horrific. Traumatizing even. It was the type of experience that woke people up in sweating terror and led to paranoia for years to come.

The other part of him categorized the experience as a 'game.' Not in the pleasurable aspect, as Neron did not believe himself to be a masochist, but in the transient nature of it all. The pain was fleeting and stymied by the system. Twinges of stinging irritation rather than the agony such a death should bring. That stinging, and the mental fog of the head wound, cleared with death. A temporary death at that.

Neron accepted this mental dichotomy easily. It was far from the first time his human mind rationalized in two different directions. It wouldn't be the last either as classifying events and people intellectually often led to such contradictions.

But emotionally?

Neron... felt.

In this void of sensation, that was all he could say with certainty.

Thus, after a time that was indeterminable without the markers of passage, Neron turned his attention from classification of his thoughts and feelings to a clarification on the event itself.

Without the fog of pain and terror, Neron played events out in his mind as best he could approximate, aware that they might need revisioning later if future information became available.

He'd been watching the bookstore for Optim while she spent the second half of the day with her son. A few customers had come by, and he'd helped them find what they were looking for, but by and large he'd been as alone as he usually was in the shop. Even more so, actually, due to the imminent festival.

Jorry was with him, of course, coiled around him and half buried in his clothes for extra heat.

…Probably why he hadn’t sensed the attacker’s now that he thought of it. The snake wouldn’t have had the best sense of smell with his head pushed into Neron’s armpit for the extra warmth.

It was while he was reading at this table, keeping an ear out for the ringing of the bell that would signal an arrival, that Neron had heard splintering wood.

He'd looked up from his book, barely having time to wonder what it had been, before the bookshelf had crashed into his back, sending him to the ground as it shattered the table and chair and knocked him out. For how long, he couldn't say for certain, but it could not have been too long.

From there, he'd lay on the floor, helpless, as a horde of vermin had overrun Jorry and finally finished him off.

Neron dismissed the idle wonderings about whether he should call it a mischief or a nest, as both rats and mice were present, before focusing on the important factors.

Key of which was that they were being led.

While the voice he'd heard directing them was telling that at least one of the vermin had a Self, what really stood out to Neron was what he didn't hear.

Even though they'd scrambled all over him and consumed him, Neron had not heard a single one of the small creatures release the instinctual sounds he was used to.

The Nest let him understand every creature. Most didn't speak, lacking a Self to form proper identity and words, but all creatures 'communicated' and the Nest interpreted it as words.

They weren't always audible, varying by size and distance. He could only hear an insect's communication when it was right by his ear, for example. But it was always present. Even if they were trying to hide.

Because communication was not speaking.

It was transmitting information to others of the same species or race. You communicated with body language. You communicated with hormones. You communicated with sound and smell and touch and heat and color and a hundred other methods.

Living was the act of communicating with the world and the beasts of this world could not stop him from ‘hearing’ those ‘words.’

Except for those with a Self.

Only they, like Jorry or that hawk, had remained inaudible to him.

Neron could believe he did not hear the rats setting up the ambush. He could even go so far as to believe that one or two of them had a Self that was intelligent enough to plan it and keep the rest from giving it away.

Neron couldn't believe that a horde of vermin, fighting for their lives against a massive, to them at least, rat snake would retain that same silence.

So... where did that leave him?

Firstly, it meant he'd need to back off on the extermination business. Not only would it be impossible without Jorry, who'd take at least a week to regain his Self, but it simply wasn't profitable anymore. The few coins he made were simply not worth taking on an army of rats.

Even if he wasn't ambushed, Neron had no confidence that he'd be able to prevent the ring leaders from getting away while he fought dozens of others. Then, they'd just return when their mindless fellows respawned and ambush him again. Anybody who could organize an army of rats into squads and direct them wouldn't be stupid enough to fight a losing battle. An unwinnable war was not worth the hassle to keep up a small job that's only goal had been to make a bit of money and kill time.

Secondly, he'd probably take up Medea's offer to join one of the academies once he finished his training Hall. While magic didn't have the draw to him that it seemed to hold on so many others, he was mildly interested in exploring his skill. Its implications on beasts, monsters, and their interactions with beings with and without Selves was worth some study. He’d make some vague promises to Jorry and it would be easy to convince him with the excuse of making him stronger.

A few years of work on a poorly understood topic had the benefit of helping Medea improve her Knowledge and possibly giving his sisters a small advantage.

Just because they didn't need him anymore didn't mean he did not wish to help them and there were worse ways to spend his limited time in God’s Nature.

Finally, and more immediately, he'd need to return to his body and clean up the mess he'd no doubt left at Optim's. More than likely, she'd get back before he did and find his corpse. Even if he didn’t log out and returned in six hours rather than thirty, there was no way she’d stay out past midnight.

He just hoped nothing was taken from the unattended shop and he'd be able to spin a story. Nothing too dissimilar from what really happened, just couching it in a better light. He didn't wish to lose the network he was building with the cessation of his rat catching business and Optim would be key to that.

Going over everything, Neron found himself satisfied with this rough plan.

It wasn't exacting in detail, but it was good enough to be adaptable and would cover for the change in circumstances that his death, and its implications, carried.

It was a good plan.

...So why?

Why was he...

******

There was no separation between death and life. No slow awakening or feeling of movement.

It was instantaneous.

One moment Neron was contemplating himself and his plans in the calm nothingness of nonexistence.

Then light.

Noise.

Rough clothes over skin that did not completely protect from the cold.

The taste of his own tongue.

The smell of the city after rain.

It was bright. It was loud. It was violence on senses that previously did not exist.

Neron took a moment, a long moment, to recalibrate. To put himself once more in his body, in this time, in this place.

That bright light was nothing more than the street lamps, lanterns, and a dozen spells of myriad colors.

That loud noise was the sound of a festival, of music, laughter, cheers, and the murmuring of thousands as they navigated the crowded Sanctuary Plaza.

He was cold because he was in the basic clothes rebirth provided. There was humidity in the air as well, magnifying the chill and the heavy clouds blocking the light of all but the bright moons and the water on the ground speaking to rain that had fallen during his sojourn in death’s domain.

He tasted his tongue because it was still serpentine and he'd instinctively flickered it from his mou-

#

The Nest (2)

All Beasts may now join you in common cause of survival and growth.

You can communicate with all Beasts.

You can assimilate traits of the Beasts who join you.

Beasts who join you will respawn at your location.

Beasts: 2/3

#

… Oh.

So, he was correct. Increasing the Nest's level was contingent on making assimilated traits as normal to use as his regular body would be.

That was... interesting. It had implications in the long term, but Neron decided to contemplate that later.

Instead, he bent down to pick up the two-meter-long snake that had appeared at his feet.

Neron stared into slit pupils.

A non-blessed creature that died lost its Self, reverting to instinctual behavior, no different than a common animal. The exact length of time varied on a number of factors, and would be increased if it died again before it regained its Self.

It would take at least a week before Jorry-

"Rats! Fucking rats! And mice! I'm gonna kill them. I'm gonna kill them all! Slowly. Squeeze them one by one until their eyes pop and their ribs skewer their-"

"You are... alive?"

The question fell out of Neron's mouth in a moment of genuine confusion.

"Of course I'm alive! No way a dragon would be killed by... by..." Jorry trailed off as he wiggled in Neron's hands, turning his head to peer at his uninjured body. "Hmm? I'm alive? I'm still aware? Wait! How long has it been? Did you kill them all already? You better have left some for me!"

"No. I just resurrected," Neron denied. Was this a facet of his Skill? It had to be, but one that wasn't mentioned in its description at all. "It should only be six hours since we died."

So surprised was he that he didn’t even think about the implications of talking to a beast in the center of the Sanctuary, surrounded by people and revelers.

Then again, the crowd that surrounded them gave them the perfect smokescreen. Nobody cared for their little drama.

"Good. We gotta get back to that store. I'll find those little bastards again."

"Why?"

"Because they won't have a bookshelf this time. Let's see how they like an ambush, shishishishishi."

"No, I mean why go after them at all?"

Jorry ceased laughing maniacally and his frenetic energy stilled as he looked at Neron in confusion.

"What do you mean? You have a way to get them to come to us? I was just going to track them from the store."

"But why should we? What does it get us?" Neron asked.

"Vengeance!"

"Which gives us... what? A moment of satisfaction? There were dozens of them. Even if we find where they hide out, if there is one location at all, they will just scatter. We can kill maybe ten, if that, but the others will just hide. The leaders will be the first to do so. Then they will come after us again. I will be fine if I am careful, but they will get you again. You are too small to be protected and too big to hunt and hide."

"None of that matters!"

"Yes it does," Neron continued dispassionately, ignoring the serpent's fervor. "Nobody cares if we do or do not kill a bunch of rats and mice. We will not gain anything of material value. You have evolved so you will not increase your strength fighting creatures so much weaker than you. We do not get strength, wealth, or influence for doing this. And they are highly unlikely to target us. This is a pointless endeavor that will take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and be considerably dangerous. So, knowing that, why should we do it?"

"BECAUSE I WANT TO!"

...

"...You recognize how childish that is, correct?" Neron asked after a moment to let Jorry calm down from his outburst.

"It doesn't matter if it's childish," Jorry snapped. "What matters is that I want to do this. I need to do this!"

"No, you do not. This will not help you in any way in becoming a dragon. It will, in fact, slow you down in doing so. You are advocating for us to start a war where both sides are immortal and neither has anything the other wants. Investing so much time and effort, with the risk of dying without any reward is just stupid."

"There's no point in evolving into a dragon unless I am one!"

Neron stopped speaking.

"I can evolve again and again and again," Jorry continued. "I can become large enough to swallow the ocean. Or crush mountains by accident. I can fly to the moons, the ring, and beyond. But none of that will matter. Not strength or arms or size or wings. None of it.” He trailed off, voice going soft. “Not if I keep letting others kill me."

"You came back. If you kill them, they will come back as well."

Vengeance in the real world served a purpose. If you were hurt, it was in your best interest to make certain you can't be hurt again. In God's Nature, where death was transient, vengeance was a waste of time, effort and resources.

"You would be safer if you ignored those who hurt you and focused on growing strong enough to ensure that they cannot hurt you again. You have the opportunity to grow so much faster than random rats in the sewers."

"Yet they still killed me. Killed us,” Jorry stressed, his voice dead serious. “We cannot let them kill us and get away with it. Or we'll die again. And again and again and again and nothing will change."

"If you want to get stronger in this game, this world, you will die again. Probably more times than you can count.” Many times, his sisters had died and, due to responsibilities such as school or food, had to spend thirty hours out of the game. He’d lost track of how many it had been, but it was certainly over two dozen. Each. In less than two years. They’d probably died thrice that amount and remained in the game to not lose the extra time. “Are you going to get revenge for every single one?"

"Yes!” Jorry said emphatically. “Every single death. Every one. So, one day we won't die again."

"We will die. Nothing we say or do will change that. One day, we will die and we will not come back. This world will end. My world will end. Or we will simply die and the world will continue without us. That is life."

"Then we'll die as dragons, not as snakes."

What should he say to that?

What could he say to that?

Neron could cajole, manipulate, and redirect Jorry for hours. Days. Probably till his limited time in God’s Nature ended. He could go on this pointless quest for vengeance when Neron was long gone.

And yet...

Neron could cut ties with Jorry right here and now. His use for the snake began and ended when he was useful to him. He had no use for someone who wouldn't listen or obey. There was no deadlier enemy than an incompetent ally.

And yet...

*Beep Beep*

The deadlock was broken when Neron's system rang with a call.

Jorry kept staring as Neron looked away to open his menu, navigate to its net terminal, and took the call.

Claudia's pale blue face hung in the night air, visible only to Neron, in a mask of surprise.

"You're alright!"

"Yes?" Neron asked, lacking context for her worry. "I mean, I did die. So did Jorry. But we are back."

"I know," Claudia nodded quickly. Then, seeing his look, she explained. "I mean, I found your bodies."

"You did?" Neron asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. She winced, not meeting his eyes.

"We might have... placed a few spells on you to let us know if you died?" Neron's unimpressed look had her continuing much quicker. "A first death is always kind of rough, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay and really weren't spying so much as creating an alarm or something and-"

"I get it," Neron interrupted his youngest sister with a sigh. He could understand the worry, but they needn't have bothered. He was not such a failure of a brother that he needed his younger sisters to worry about him. "You have my stuff?"

"Yep," Claudia perked right up when it was clear she wasn't going to get a lecture. "Cleaned everything up as well. Killed those rats for you too. I told that lizard girl you needed to do something in real life and asked me to watch the store."

"...Thank you." Neron's eyes fell on Jorry, still staring up at him intently. "You certain you killed them all? There were dozens of rats and mice."

Jorry... wilted.

The snake slumped dejectedly as he realized there would be no vengeance. All those who'd killed him were dead already. Scattered to who knew where.

While Jorry had been confined to a small park, rodents could thrive anywhere, from cities to fields and forests. Even if the game considered Calderine 'safe' for them to resurrect in, which it probably would, they'd be scattered all over. Those few who had a Self would have lost it for at least a week, probably more if they were killed again, and neither Jorry nor Neron had a method of determining one rat from another.

With Claudia's 'help,' Jorry's dream of a future where he repaid every death himself died before it left the cradle.

"Yep yep. I got there right after you died. Made sure I got them all."

"Did you not have a meeting with the king?" Neron asked, his eyes locked on a large banner where the Bank’s booth usually was.

‘New City! A Player City! Adventure! Wealth! Join The Bank!’

"That was hours ago. And Octavia did it. I came because I was free."

"Alright," Neron accepted her answer easily enough. They knew their business better than he did and it looked like they’d come to an agreement with the Calderinian Court. "I will meet with you after dinner to pick up my stuff. Are you still cooking?"

"I am. Actually, I should log out and get started. Give me... four hours? There about."

"Sounds good."

"... Are you sure you're alright Gus?"

"I am. I'll talk to you soon."

Neron closed the call and looked back at the snake.

No longer meeting his eyes, Jorry had curled himself into a ball and rested his head dejectedly on his coils.

He'd get over it.

Neron knew Jorry would recover.

Jorry, for all his thickheadedness, naivete, and ignorance was a spirited snake. He was bummed now but by the time Neron logged back in the rat snake would have returned to his usual self.

It was as clean a result as Neron could have hoped for.

... So why?

Why hadn't he closed his net connection?

Why was he calling someone?

Why did she answer?

"Neron?" Medea asked curiously. It was rare for him to reach out to her. "You need something?"

"I need a location. Difficult to access by large creatures and people but easy to get into by smaller ones. It needs to be unenchanted and close to a large source of food, also unenchanted, that significant chunks will not be missed. It will either be underground directly or indirectly connected to the sewers in some manner."

"You think there's a rat dungeon?" Medea asked with a furrowed brow, understanding his prompt without explanation. "Dungeons can't form within a certain radius of a Sanctuary. That ratman dungeon was as close as they can get to one as large as Calderine's."

"Not a dungeon. A hide out. A staging ground..." Neron trailed off as a thought came to him. "Do you have Knowledge on previous ratmen dungeons?"

Jorry seemed to perk up from his slump at the question, tilting his head in confusion.

"I have Knowledge of all recorded dungeons." And wasn't that a claim. "What, specifically, are you asking about?"

"Like I said, I need a location. Can you take those factors I already mentioned, add a way to travel to the Optimal Read in large numbers without being detected, and cross it with a path the ratmen would have taken to flee the city."

Judging by the way Medea's eyes swept back and forth as if reading something, she did have a location.

Her frown, on the other hand, told a grimmer tale.

"... I think you should let this go, Neron."

"Why?" Neron asked. "Are they too high level? Or will there be hundreds of rats? That much food disappearing wouldn't go unnoticed."

Even without conventional facial expressions, there was no mistaking Jorry’s look as anything other than hopeful.

"No. All animals have a cap of strength they can achieve without evolving, determined by their initial race, and you’re right about the food. It's just..." It wasn't like Medea to hesitate in giving information. "There are implications to this. Dangerous ones."

Neron had guessed more was going on here by the simple fact that a horde of rodents decided to hunt him down and kill him, to say nothing of their desire for books.

Medea not explaining directly? One of her little tests. An easy one to solve.

She hadn’t said it was dangerous for him, just the implications. For Medea to list it as dangerous without telling him what made it so meant that knowing those implications were part of the problem.

All this trouble really wasn't worth a moment of satisfaction.

So why...

"That is fine. Just tell me the location. I will deal with everything else."

Jorry did not have lips but he tried his best to smile as he wiggled in excitement.

It was quite unnerving for the others in the plaza.

"Can you wait till tomorrow? I'll be free then."

"I am on a time limit."

Like himself and Jorry, the rats would be respawning right about now. While they'd lack a sense of self to report what happened, if any rodent left behind found one of them wandering about randomly, they'd know that something had gone wrong and they might flee.

Or worse, set up another ambush.

"... Head straight toward the inner wall from the bookstore. Take a left and move three blocks down. There's a burned-out house that's been caught in a legal battle for over a year. It has a cellar near a part of the sewer that was probably damaged enough for passage during the fire. Nearby is an emergency grain reserve for the next Dark Winter."

"The nearest access hatch to the sewer?"

"A block west, in front of Torblim's Tumblers."

"Thank you, Medea."

"If you're insistent on doing this then ignorance will be your best defense,” Medea stressed, yet her eyes were looking over him in confusion and worry. “Just... treat this as a usual extermination job, alright? Nothing special, just another job for a rat catcher. If asked, you heard about an infestation and went to clear it out."

"Asked?" Neron asked, before realizing what it meant. "Never mind. I understand."

Neron shut down the call, slung Jorry over his shoulders and started making his way toward the bookstore.

"Aren't they already dead?" Jorry asked, his head hovering in front of Neron.

"The ones who killed us are. There is nothing we can do about that. But the one who sent them? Who organized them? They are still alive. They will have never left their hideout."

"Organized? How do you know someone sent them?"

"The books,” Neron explained, pushing through the crowd. His voice rose an octave to be heard over drunken chanting. “They wanted to bring books away. They have proven they can get in and out of the shop easily. So why not sneak in during the night to read? There's enough light from the streetlamps. Why take the risk of moving large, obvious objects like books?"

"Because whoever sent them is a coward!" Jorry said in realization.

"Cowardice, tactics, or both," Neron nodded. "They have a Self, like you, and they are smart enough to unify a large group under them, including at least one other rat with a sense of Self. They are not incompetent. So long as the leader remains alive, they can gather any that die and protect them long enough to regain their own Self."

"So, we need to get to them before they realize they've lost their soldiers, or they will go out to gather them again.” Jorry said, even more excited than before. “Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry."

"We have a bit of time,” Neron advised. “After killing us, they were almost certainly planning on waiting for dark to make moving the books less obvious. If they're being careful, which they will want to be, it could take hours to bring the books over without being noticed. Whoever sent them will not get suspicious for another few hours."

"Why not wait till dark then?” Jorry asked, tongue flicking in and out in thought… Just like Neron’s. “Why kill us and then wait? Or why not wait till we leave?"

"Because they are rats." Neron answered simply.

"Right! Damned, dirty, delicious rats! Of course they'd try and kill us."

"No, I mean they are small.” It was hard not to roll his eyes at the snake sometimes. “A host of them working together can carry books, and jump on the handle to open the door, but they cannot do anything if the door is locked. They needed to kill whoever was going to lock the door. From there, they'd have at least six hours to get out before anything was reported."

Neron wondered if Jorry realized what that meant.

He did.

"...We weren't the targets, were we?"

"No.” Neron answered grimly. “The books were the target from the start. They would have killed whoever was in the building. If not us, then Optim. Or her son."

Whatever had destroyed the bookshelf’s legs likely wasn’t useful in a fight or they’d have used it to finish him and Jorry off quicker. Still, a mass of wood and paper falling on you could very easily be fatal.

The vermin probably thought they were lucky it was the two of them instead of Optim, who had a greater Body.

"But they still chose to go after us," Jorry perked up, as if the idea of being targeted cheered him up. "They must have known you watched the shop sometime and waited for a night to get the books to get revenge."

Neron almost hated to ruin Jorry's self-image.

Almost.

Far more important than feeling special was being objective.

"They would have done it tonight whether we were there or not," Neron said bluntly, gesturing to the people crowded around them. Someone shouted something. Others cheered. "Because most people are at the festivities and so are the guards. Tonight is the best chance they will have before the new year festival. If they were really lucky then even when their victim resurrected any investigation would be delayed for the same reason."

"Oh."

Neron let the silence linger. Jorry needed to get the idea of some epic feud out of his head.

He wanted revenge on those who killed him?

Fine.

But others wouldn't necessarily feel the same.

Particularly if all that died were some Self-less mooks. Disposable pawns. More than likely, Neron and Jorry were barely on their radar as anything more than a nuisance similar to a cat. Actually, because they only went after rats and mice they were hired for, they probably ranked lower than a cat would be.

"Why are they after books in the first place?" Jorry eventually said, breaking the silence.

"I do not know." If Claudia hadn't cleaned up, they might have been able to discover which books were missing, but as it were they had no clue which books were targeted. "Does it matter to you?"

"I guess it doesn't."

More silence.

"Hey?"

"Yes?"

"What convinced you?"

Neron didn't answer.

#

Medea has requested you to perform three actions that you have never considered doing.

Time limit: Before she leaves Calderine.

Actions: 2/3

Difficulty: E

Impact: E

#

Neron couldn't answer.

******

It wasn't as simple as rushing in to beat up the bad guys. Even with a location, there was no guarantee that they’d have access to where rats were hiding. 

After coming up with a rough plan, there was a need for a quick detour.

"Are you sure you do not want me to write you a note or something," Neron feigned worry as he looked over the crate. "I hate doing this to you when you are so busy."

"Don't worry about it," Terrel grinned jovially. "You can pay me back tomorrow."

"Thank you," Neron bowed his head, making his voice waver slightly. "I really appreciate it."

"Eh, I know you're good for it. Besides, I know where to find you." The tilt of the tavern owner's grin made it clear he was joking. "You're a good kid, so go enjoy the festival with your friends. I better be getting back."

As if to prove him right, a loud cheer rose from the building behind him.

With one more word of thanks, Neron carried the crate of bottles away into the city.

"How are these going to help," Jorry asked, poking his head out from Neron's collar where he was wrapped around his torso. The days of being able to fit on Neron’s shoulder were over.

"We need to flush them out," Neron grunted, hurrying on his way toward the destination. It had only taken a few minutes to convince Terrel to give him supplies, even without coin, but the detour to the tavern added five minutes there and fifteen back. Running with this load was impossible. "If I am right about this rat leader being cautious and wise, they would not have only one escape tunnel."

"We need a way to get them to come out on the one we want," Jorry understood, flickering his tongue in excitement. "Right into our jaws."

"There is also the fact that I can not get into the cellar and sending you in alone without knowing how many are in there is stupid."

"Don't worry. They won’t take me by surprise again," the snake hissed in anger. "I refuse to let them kill me twice."

"I might be overthinking things, and you could take on the few that remain," Neron admitted, if only to assuage the serpent's pride. "But I would rather be safe than sorry. If this does not work and we miss this opportunity, we will not get another."

Finding the location was not difficult with Medea's directions. Just as she described, there were the burned out remains of what was once a respectably sized townhouse. It was obvious someone had cleaned up the area after the fire, removing smaller or more salvageable items, but the charred corpse of the building still stood, exposed to the elements by the missing roof. A few stone pillars, half-burned walls, and a blackened floor were all that remained.

In the light of a few moons peaking from behind still thick clouds, as well as the distant glow of the central avenue's lamps and the square's packed to the brim with festival goers, Neron couldn't see any obvious sign of a cellar entryway.

Still, he had confidence in his friend’s judgement and set about getting to work in an alley between it and the access duct for the sewers.

Firstly, he popped open half of the bottles he was given. There were way more than he expected to need, but the story of being forced to go on a booze run by his fellow trainees, only to realize he'd left his coin purse behind, wouldn't hold up if he asked for a low amount.

Taking off his shirt, the cold of the night stung at his skin, but Neron paid it no mind as he ripped the basic clothes into strips, half dropping them in the alcohol. Even if Players had brought over many methods of creating alcohol, it didn't mean bottling and canning were at the same level as outside the game. Alcohol from taverns that were sold to be drunk off property were contained in ceramic jars with rough lids of wood instead of sleek bottles of glass. Potter was a fairly common Job, one which easily allowed for basic creations to scale in number, even if they did not match industrial age numbers.

With the rags soaking in the alcohol, Neron left them in the alley as he pried open the manhole and, with Jorry descended the ladder into the sewers.

It honestly didn't smell that bad.

Certainly, there was a foul odor in the air, but nothing compared to the reek one would expect of a city of close to a million. That was partly because sewers served a different purpose in this world, at least in Calderine. It was still a method of providing water for houses and businesses, as well as disposing of waste, but its main goal was purification.

From the underground reservoir the city was built above, water would rise through certain passages, being purified by enchanted grates and filters to make it drinkable as it arrived in various smaller containment areas, roughly one per city block. These, in turn, were used in day-to-day life.

Once used, water was flushed down pipes along with its contents to the sewers, where it would naturally flow downhill through other enchanted grates. There, anything solid would be filtered out into certain passages where it would either be disposed of or repurposed as fertilizer. The water would then rejoin the reservoir, and the cycle would start all over again.

It was an ingenious way to keep a large city alive and was a key component on why Calderine survived the centuries following the Woe and so many others did not. It also had the byproduct of the sewers needing accessible walkways for the many enchanters needed to inspect and maintain various facilities. Moving between sections of the city required keys, crossing gates and checkpoints, even in the sewers, but accessing it was a simple process due to the need for rapid deployment during an emergency.

Neron wasn't in an emergency, but he could create one to suit his purpose.

The walkway was narrow, and he was forced to pause to cast Spark, lighting a strip of his shirt wrapped around a broken piece of bottle crate, to see anything in the dark tunnel. His light was not bright, and would extinguish quickly, but it was enough. Shadows bounced as the curved angles of the walls bounced around in odd shapes.

The sound of rushing water made Neron pause as he peered over the edge of the walkway. Dark water flowed freely and quickly through the tunnel at a far faster rate than he expected, another factor for why the smell was much less than expected, yet one that posed a potential risk. Without being able to tell how deep it was, if he fell into it there was a risk of being dragged away by the flowing current.

"They're here," Jorry hissed gleefully as he twisted his body this way and that, tasting the air to locate their prey.

For a moment, Neron considered using the Nest to gain the Jacobson Organ to try and do the same but eventually made the wise decision that learning to taste the air was best done outside a sewer. Even if it was a clean sewer.

"Lead the way," Neron said simply, keeping his voice as low as he could. Just because the vermin wouldn't be able to hear Jorry speak did not mean they couldn't hear him. "But tell me when we get close."

Jorry slithered down his leg, tasting the air repeatedly as he narrowed his focus. Then he took off, slithering into the dark along the banks of the waterways. Neron gave him a moment then followed at a distance as quietly as possible. He needed his torch to see but the snake didn't so it was best to reduce the risk of Jorry being spotted. Mice and rats didn’t rely mostly on their eyes but there was no reason to make it easy for them.

Jorry didn't move far, crossing over two small arches that spanned the rapids below, before stopping in the middle of a walkway.

"The entrance should be on the other side," the serpent hissed in a whisper, as he practically vibrated in excitement. A pointless worry, as other beings couldn’t hear his ‘voice.’ "Should I find another bridge?"

Neron paused, straining his ears. He didn't hear any other creatures around, but that was no guarantee they were not there. He didn't yet know what the conditions for animals’ silence around leaders with a Self were. It at least meant they weren't actively receiving orders though.

"No," Neron breathed out as quietly as possible. Whispering could carry and they were close enough that he wanted to keep his words as short as possible and hope the rushing water would cover it. "I will throw. Wait. They will come."

Jorry must have understood his meaning as he curled himself into a ball as Neron picked him up. With a heave, Neron aimed and threw. Not his hardest, as he didn’t want to hurt the snake, but enough to let the creature cross the water with room to spare.

The serpent landed on the pathway on the other side with barely a sound as he spread his body to cushion the impact.

"Made it. I'll be waiting here."

Neron didn't respond, just turning around and retraced his steps toward the access hatch and ascended the ladder out of the sewer.

The cold assaulted him once more, even with his faint torch still held in his hand. The street remained blissfully empty as he headed toward where he'd left the jars of alcohol.

For a heartbeat, Neron stared at the improvised firebombs.

This was stupid.

This would get him nothing and could ruin everything he'd built. A guard or random pedestrian passing at the wrong time could see him arrested and detained, forcing him to serve a sentence lest he incur a bounty in Calderine, one that wouldn’t disappear even if he created a new character. He could create a character in Leidon but that would be a waste of time and effort.

And for what? A snake's moment of satisfaction? Revenge that would accomplish nothing?

And there were the hidden risks to consider as well. Medea might not have given him the details but Neron had known her long enough to know that if she was taking the effort to warn him about the implications of his actions then it was something he should take seriously.

Every experience he'd ever had, every intelligent thought in his head, every moment of work and ounce of effort he'd invested in establishing himself in Calderine told him this was all incredibly stupid.

So why...

Neron picked up the first jar, lit the rag, and threw it across the street.

It crashed, shattering into dozens of pieces as the high proof alcohol spread and the flame took across the charred remains of an old building.

A second Molotov cocktail followed the first, shattering and adding to the blaze.

A third. A fourth. A fifth. Finally, the sixth and final improvised explosive shattered and covered the remains of the building in fire.

The flames licked at destroyed walls and threatened to spread. Anyone below that would be thrown into a panic as whatever passage they'd have used to bring in the books was now a wall of fire.

In that moment, looking at the flames burning away and knowing the effect they'd caused, Neron couldn't help it.

It wasn't rational. It was stupid. It was pointless.

He still couldn't help it.

Neron gazed upon the destruction he'd wrought and wondered.

Why was he smiling?

...

Then he was gone, rushing down the street toward the open manhole and down the ladder into the sewers.

He didn't bother to conceal any noises he made, as stealth was well and truly behind him. Building up speed on the pathways, and over the two bridges, he turned the last corner and leapt, his momentum carrying him across the turbulent waters below as his head brushed the ceiling.

"Oof!" Neron grunted as he came down roughly on the other side, ramming into the wall. The rebound almost sent him into the water, but he managed to find his footing before he fell in.

His improvised torch, however, was knocked from his hands.

Neron tried to catch it, but he didn't have the ability to do so before it rolled off the walkway and into the flowing water below.

Instantly, Neron was engulfed in total darkness.

Pressing his back against the wall to stay away from the concealed edge, he grasped for his next move.

Should he try and return? Grab another tool to use as a torch then come back? No. In the dark he was far more likely to fall into the water than make that jump, and even if he made it, he'd need to move slowly and cautiously to get back to the manhole, lest he fall in or get lost.

So that left...

"Neron! Over here!" Neron jerked his head toward the right where Jorry's voice echoed from. "I have two of them but they're more!"

Fighting rats and mice was always tricky, with their agility and small bodies.

Fighting them in the dark would be impossible.

With a grimace, Neron bent down. Grabbing the hem of his left pant leg, he tore the rough fabric at his knee with all his strength. The rough fabric gave way, resurrection clothes never being the best or most durable, and Neron wrapped the torn cloth around his left hand.

"Could use a little help!"

With a silent vow to learn Shine at the earliest opportunity, Neron took a half minute to concentrate and cast Spark.

Thump.

The pain nullification helped. It reduced what would be something mind numbing to just really, really painful. Neron wanted to rush to douse his burning hand in the nearby water.

He didn't.

With his burning hand held aloft in front of him, Neron resumed his rush toward Jorry's location.

One block over, he took a right turn to find his partner in the midst of a battle with a small group of mice.

The illumination cast by the flickering flames was not much but it was enough to make out three large rats wrapped in Jorry's coils, one of which was limp as the other two attempted to wriggle their way free without success. Surrounding him were half a dozen more rats, and a handful of mice, biting and clawing at the serpent. Everything was little more than dark blobs than real creatures at this distance but Neron could make out bloody marks dotting Jorry's form, his evolution giving him the size to prevent their blows from being fatal, yet he was clearly not going to win against what seemed to be a coordinated assault.

Despite that, Jorry held firm to his conquests, coiling in a ball to reduce his exposure and lashing out as and when he could.

As Neron neared, a mouse leapt for Jorry's eyes and the snake caught it out of the air with his wide-open jaws. Clapping down on the creature, the snake's neck was exposed for a rat to lung at. Swinging his head, Jorry smashed the rat with the mouse in his jaws, sending it skittering away.

All of this passed in dead silence.

Not one of the vermin made any of the usual noises of instinctual communication Neron was used to. The only noise was the rushing of water, the faint crackling of fire near his ear, and his footsteps on the stone beneath him.

The silence was broken by a deep voice.

"The therianthrope." Neron rushed to the small battle as well as fast as he could, noting as he did so a crack running along the sewer wall that another mouse skittered out of. "Continue as before with the snake. I shall deal with him."

One of the mice separated from the group surrounding Jorry and scurried toward him.

"’areful," Jorry called out. Though his mouth was full with his latest victim, Neron could understand him without any issues, even if his voice was ‘muffled.’ "Ee's g’t ur weapon."

...What?

There was a brief glint of something metallic as the mouse neared and Neron tried to crush it with his foot.

The mouse nimbly dodged his descending limb by a hair’s breadth and Neron felt a stinging sensation in his heel.

Compared to the flames still burning his flesh, it was nothing but the fact that it had penetrated his shoes was worrisome.

"...A Player then," the mouse said upon noting Neron's lack of reaction to the pain. It didn't stop, however, and withdrew its weapon to stab Neron again, higher up and near his tendon.

Knowing what a bad idea that would be and without time to fully move, Neron shifted his foot so that the weapon hit the bone of his ankle, sending a new stinging up his leg.

"I take no joy in this, Player," the mouse continued as he scurried to the side from Neron's swiped downward with his flaming hand. "There is no pride in harming a man and his companion. Not when they are simply doing their job."

The proximity to the flames gave Neron his first clear look at his foe.

It was a tiny mouse with white fur, a pink nose, and clear black eyes that were narrowed in concentration as it dodged his flailing strikes. The small creature was wearing a tiny set of pants, clearly once belonging to a doll before having a hole cut for a pink tail that it used expertly as a counterbalance.

In its little paw, it wielded a sowing needle as a rapier, which it placed in its mouth when it needed to run on all fours.

Nimbly hopping over Neron's right hand as he reached for the creature, the needle tore a long thin line across the back of his knuckles. It stung, but that was all.

"You are clever, resourceful, and dedicated. Yet I cannot let you live. I am too close to breaking this curse and I cannot allow myself to die until I do."

He was monologuing. The mouse was monologuing.

…Because he didn't realize Neron could understand him.

If he did, if he realized Neron wasn't just a serpent therianthrope but rather could speak to all animals, there was a good chance this could all be solved with talking. If so, Neron could benefit immensely.

Anyone who was worth a curse to turn them into a creature, a permanent one as well if the thing's fear of death was to be believed, would be connected. Wealthy. Influential.

If Neron helped break this curse, or even just acted as a translator between him and an accomplished wizard like Medea, he could be set for the rest of his time in God’s Nature without bothering his sisters.

All it would take to pause this battle and come out ahead was a few words…

Neron kept his mouth shut as he leaned down further to try and catch the mouse.

Was it because he heeded Medea's warning?

Was it because of Jorry's desire for revenge?

No.

In that moment of realization, Neron wasn't even thinking about either of them.

"Once I am cured, I shall ensure you are properly compensated," the mouse continued as he hopped onto Neron's outstretched arm.

Neron rose in a hurry, shaking his arm to dislodge the creature but its claws sunk into his flesh and held firm.

"I am very sorry, young man." The cursed man apologized again, his voice regretful yet firm as the tiny mouse rocketed up his arm toward his head.

Neron's eyes widened in fear, and he made a crucial mistake as he took his eyes off the rushing creature to look at Jorry as if to ask for help.

In doing so, he exposed his vulnerable neck.

The serpent's eyes met his.

"Watch out!"

The serpent’s warning almost drowned the mouse’s words.

"But I must return to my wife and son."

The mouse leapt, needle extended.

It sunk into soft flesh.

Yet the spray of arterial blood did not manifest.

"Wha-"

Already in pain, Neron hardly noticed the extra sting of the needle penetrating his burning hand as he closed it around the weapon and its wielder.

He almost missed it, his burnt fingers not responding as expected yet the surprise of the move won him the time he needed.

The cursed man only had time to widen his black eyes as he realized what had happened.

There were only a few ways a mouse, even one wielding a weapon, would be able to kill a human.

And Neron knew them.

Intimately.

The white fur was not even singed before Neron closed his fist as tight as possible.

Only to find the nerve damage to his burning hand was more severe than he realized, fingers not responding as quickly or as forcefully as expected.

"ARRGGGGGHHHH!" The curse man let out a terrible scream of pain as instead of dying instantly, he was slowly crushed.

Bones broke.

Organs ruptured.

And the screams continued until, mercifully, Neron's fist finished closing.

From start till end, the duel lasted only thirty seconds.

The only sound to anyone but Neron, had been the long squeak of pain of the dying mouse.

Yet the battle was not yet over.

Unable to open his hand again, or at least not quickly, Neron held his victim in his palm as he ran forward.

"Good job," Jorry complimented as he let the three corpses in his coils fall, slithering forward to catch two more rats in the same position.

They tried to escape, but the snake's movements were too sudden and they were trapped as the rest attempted to flee, whatever control the cursed man had over them was broken with his death.

"Runrunrunrunrunrunrun."

"Hiderunhiderunhiderun."

"Preadatorrunhidefleerun."

Without someone to coordinate them, they were as rats on a sinking ship.

Jorry managed to capture one more in his jaws as it fled and Neron squished three before they escaped but a few still managed to dart down the pathways in both directions, making it impossible for them to catch them all.

Still, victory was theirs.

"WOOOOOOOH!" Jorry cheered, dropping his last victim. "Yeah! We got you! We! Got! You! That's what you get shishishishishi."

"Come on," Neron interrupted the snake's mad cackling.

Not only did they need to vacate the area in case anyone above came to investigate the open manhole but his hand was on its last flickering of light, the final strands of material held between his melted fingers.

There was no more pain, or any sensation really, from the blackened flesh.

"Wait! Let me grab a snack first!"

******

Despite only being in the sewer for less than ten minutes, it was luck that prevented them from getting into any trouble.

That, and the fact that the fire Neron had started hadn't blazed high or long. There simply wasn't enough material in the husk of the building to really catch and, once the alcohol was gone, the flames were left with bare stone to burn and died quickly. The rain that had fallen while they were dead made it difficult for it to catch on anything nearby.

There would no doubt have been a bigger commotion if more people were in the area, or if the festival hadn't distracted most of the guards, but Neron and Jorry managed to slip away without being caught.

The biggest trouble was re-covering the access hatch then carrying the box containing the remaining jugs of alcohol with only one hand but the pair managed it with some creative leveraging.

The shards of pottery were left where they were, unable to be cleaned up with any haste. Neron just had to hope that they weren't identifiable as coming from Terrel's tavern thanks to the fire and damage.

He gave it good odds that this little disturbance wouldn't attract too much attention. Nothing had been damaged that wasn’t already and nobody was hurt, as far as any investigators would know. They'd likely chalk it up to some local rabble-rousers having too much to drink at the festival.

A festival Neron and Jorry did not attend.

Instead, the pair found themselves in that small park, on a bench as they looked out over the city, to the land beyond, and up at those moons which shone reflected light. Only one was peaking out through the clouds but two more were large and bright enough that the cover only dampened their radiance.

"Let me try a sip of that," Jorry asked, slithering his way toward Neron's open jug. It was an awkward movement due to the three bulges in his body from the rats he was digesting.

Neron silently tilted the jug to the snake, letting him stick his head inside.

"Mleh mleh mleh," the serpent flickered his tongue experimentally, tilting his head in thought. "It's weird. I liked that other one better."

Neron didn't disagree. It was some sort of combination of sake or vodka. Not bad, but not something he’d seek out.

Then again, he’d never really been one for alcohol and only drank when convention called for it.

He took a long sip, emptying the jug.

The snake took the opportunity while he was leaning down to grab another to tighten around his body, trying to get what warmth he could from his shirtless form.

Neron didn’t complain.

He was cold too.

Yet his mind was feverishly hot.

“Jorry.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you stay?”

“Huh?”

“At the bookstore. After I fell. You could have left.”

…Why?

“Huh. I guess I could’ve.”

…Why?

“You could not have known my skill would have saved you. I would come back fine. You would not have. In that situation, it makes more sense to flee instead of fight.”

Why?

“To be honest, I didn’t even think of it at the time.”

Why?

“You should have. You can not let passion blind you to your options and their consequences.”

It made no sense.

“…You’re probably right. I can’t panic like that again. Maybe next time I could find another option. A dragon shouldn’t panic because of rats.”

Nothing made sense.

“Fear is a good response. A healthy response. But yes, you can not let it blind you. Fear is the mind killer.”

Review everything that had happened tonight, going over it moment by moment, Neron could rationalize every part of it.

“Still, I don’t think I’d change anything.”

His thought process, the steps from A to B to C, and their consequences.

“Just because it worked out this time does not mean you should take that same risk again.”

From the ambush, to his death, to Claudia’s intervention, to helping Jorry get his revenge, Neron traced it all in his mind.

“No, that’s not it. I mean, even if I died and your skill didn’t bring me back, I don’t think I’d have changed anything.”

Looking back, in the cold rational of this moment, Neron could even evaluate his own emotional state.

“Why not?”

Neron wasn’t inhuman. He too had felt a desire for vengeance against those who hurt him. He also hadn’t wished to lose Jorry over a spat when he knew of a potential solution. His rationale for not seeking vengeance was still valid, but that didn’t mean he did not consider the rationale to do so just as equally valid.

“What kind of dragon leaves his partner to die to save themselves?”

It still didn’t fully explain why he’d chosen the path of vengeance over the wiser path, but Neron could chalk that up to being swept up in the emotions of the moment. Even if he could accurately label each one he’d been feeling, it wasn’t the first time he’d made decisions on a whim. Humans were not beings of pure, objective, logic in the first place. Objective logic didn’t even exist, emotions did.

“…Oh.”

So why?

“Yeah. You promised to help me, and you did. I promised to help you, and I will.”

Why, when looking back over the night and everything that had happened…

“Together, we’ll conquer the sky! That’s our promise.”

Why was Neron so…

“…It is a promise.”

******