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Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 21.3, 21.4
🕑 Added 2025-01-30 04:07:55 +0000 UTCThe first step of Simon's plan was enacted by making a purchase.
He'd hoped to procure materials that would create toxic gas when mixed. While he wasn't so lucky as that, he did find a substitute that should prove almost as effective. The acquisition dipped into their ever-diminishing funds, but that was no great loss. They could always replenish their coffers by looting targets.
The second step was enacted by a change of clothing.
Simon put on his best out-of-town-merchant garb and attached a full, plainly-displayed money pouch to his waist. Then he strolled past the bandits' hideout with a gait of ingrained arrogance, as if so used to being untouchable that the thought he might be in danger had never crossed his mind. An enticing sound of jangling coins echoed faintly across the street.
It was like dangling raw meat before a starving lion. The bandit guarding the front entrance immediately turned to stare at Simon, her attention drawn by the siren call of an easy mark.
Thanks to details from Identify and Sin Scry, he knew what sort of conflict would unfold within her mind. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave her post. That was the rule – that was what kept their group safe. One watcher at all times.
Yet...what was the harm? It would hardly take long to rob a single hapless merchant. And if her cohorts didn't find out, she could hoard her ill-gotten gains without having to split the plunder twelve ways.
Simon had devised backup plans in case the lure failed. They weren't needed. The bandit readily abandoned her post to follow him down an empty alley, stalking him with catlike grace. She quietly pulled out a dagger, practically salivating at the riches soon to be hers.
Then Katarina leapt from the shadows and sliced her hamstrings. In the same motion, Simon whirled around and covered the woman's mouth with his shapeshifted Demon arm.
Her muffled screams went unheard as Fell Harvest robbed the robber of her essence.
Alert: A life has been Harvested!
The bandit didn't give enough EXP to bring Simon up to Level 19. Fortunately, she was still high-Level enough for Fell Harvest's effect to kick in.
3 stat points added to Unspent Points!
He'd tested the ability on wild rats earlier, wondering if he could repeatedly Harvest the rodents, transmute quantity into quality, but no dice there. To receive bonus stats, he had to drain an opponent of at least some worth.
When combined with what he'd gained from slaying Armand Calloway, that brought him up to 14 Unspent Points. He rapidly allocated everything, bringing his stat spread to:
Strength: 24 → 26
Dexterity: 28 → 30
Vitality: 25 → 27
Intelligence: 28 → 36
HP: 250 → 270
MP: 280 → 360
A fairly equal distribution – aside from favoring Intelligence. Channel Essence would be the star of tonight's show, so pumping up his maximum MP was crucial.
Simon and Katarina moved quickly after that. They hid the guard's body behind a pile of filth, hoping that she wouldn't be discovered until much later. Dusk was just beginning to fall, and they didn't have much time before the bandits' meeting ended and the group all went their separate ways for the night.
The hideout was unchanged from before. Due to its lack of windows, and the guard sneaking off unannounced, none inside had noticed that they were now missing their watchwoman.
Which could change at the drop of a hat, so Simon wasted no time opening his Inventory and producing the item they'd bought earlier – a very large jug of oil.
Although it wasn't truly oil. Valtia didn't exactly have a thriving fossil fuel industry. This foul-smelling substance was refined from a rare breed of greenhouse plant, and had thus cost him quite the pretty penny. Its use was primarily medicinal, or as a seasoning on food, for those with eccentric palates who craved a more exotic fare.
Still, for tonight's purposes, it was oil. Liquid, portable...
And from what Identify had revealed, flammable.
Simon dashed around the hideout's perimeter with a blur of speed. He spread the not-oil on each exterior wall, drawing connecting lines with the substance, making sure to splash some on top of the roof as well. In less than a minute, the voluminous jug had been depleted of its contents.
Lastly, he produced another item from Inventory – a tall, heavy, wooden cabinet. Between that and the jug, he'd needed to store most of his personal items back at the carriage. Inventory didn't have enough space to hold everything at once.
He placed the cabinet directly in front of the building's sole entrance. Its presence may not be necessary, as it was more a 'last line of defense' than an integral part of their strategy, but a bit of added caution never hurt.
With that, they were nearly ready. Just two spells left to cast. After that, whether they succeeded or failed would come down to factors outside their control.
Yet either way...it would make for one hell of a barbecue.
Shoulders itching, like claws scraping across his skin, Simon gestured towards Katarina. "Your turn."
She raised her hand, a burning-red Fireball contained within her palm. It was aimed at the bandits' hideout; specifically, a spot where the not-oil had been judiciously applied. Her eyes blazed with resolve as the Fireball swelled into a roaring conflagration, like a match that would light the burial pyre for–
"Stop."
Katarina blinked. Slowly, she looked over at Simon. "Excuse me?"
"One second." The transmigrator ignored the incessant itching and stepped closer, carefully examining her features. He noted her taut muscles, dilated pupils, and slightly trembling arm.
"You're hesitating," he concluded.
"I'm about to set eleven people ablaze," she countered. "Even if they deserve it, what kind of maniac wouldn't feel a sliver of reluctance here?"
Simon shook his head. "No. This goes deeper. You're extremely uncomfortable right now – and trying to hide it from me."
Because you don't think you have the right to voice your misgivings, he realized. Not after you selfishly pushed me to target Uriel.
"What of it?" Katarina hissed. "You were the one who impressed the need for urgency on me! These bandits could discover us at any moment!"
"Then you'd better hurry up and explain what's bothering you."
If need be, they could abort the mission and try something else later. Operation Barbecue's surprise factor would be ruined if the bandits noticed the not-oil on their hideout, but it didn't matter. Simon could always devise a different plan, or just default to hunting them down individually.
Forcing the mission through wouldn't be worth leaving whatever issue was plaguing Kat to fester.
She paused, the Fireball still burning in her palm. "I..." With a sigh, she lowered her gaze. "Simon...how do you choose who should live and die? How do you determine the weight of a life?"
"Arbitrarily."
Kat sputtered, her eyes snapping back up to stare at him in disbelief. "Now that wasn't the answer I'd anticipated."
"Anything else would be a lie," Simon flatly stated. "And if people ever tell you different, if they say there's one true moral code to follow, then they're just dressing up their biases as an objective universal truth."
He pointed at the bandits' hideout. "You're thinking about Henry, right? Whether it's okay to kill him. From my viewpoint, the answer is yes. He took an innocent life. It wasn't strictly necessary, and there were other options, but he murdered them regardless."
"This city doesn't leave us with many options," Katarina mumbled. "Yet these bandits...do. To their allies, they offer food, coin, a semblance of stability. For someone with scarcely anything to his name, the temptation would be nigh-overpowering."
"Then why did you refuse them, while Henry accepted? Even if he didn't enjoy the act, even if he did it because he felt trapped, I see no reason why I should afford him mercy. Perhaps other people would sympathize, but I can't look past the lives he's already torn apart."
The transmigrator shrugged. "If he was just a few years younger, though – under the age of eighteen – I might be the one hesitating instead. To me, that'd be like punishing a misguided kid. Similar to how someone much older than us would probably say we're kids."
"You think that someone seventeen years old hasn't come of age?" Katarina asked, with evident confusion.
"That's how it is." Simon chuckled at the clashing social norms. "Arbitrary lines in the sand. Everyone just picks the values that they believe are most valid."
Like betraying slavers who'd saved his life. Or threatening a doctor into compliance, or maiming a sadistic Waystation guard. He felt no remorse over those decisions...but even if he had, he would never have denied that they were his.
"At the end of the day," Simon muttered, "we all need to make our own choices."
He let the words hang. Katarina looked at him, and then at the oil-soaked building. The Fireball was still held in her hand, casting a flickering gleam onto her eyes, like a lone candle attempting to illuminate a darkened, cavernous mausoleum.
Behind her gaze, Simon saw many considerations being weighed. Some light, some heavy – and some so crushing that they could smother a soul.
"Tell me just two things," she implored. "In your Sin Scry vision, who did Henry kill? Did he regret it?"
"Regret? No. Sure, he felt awful. Hated doing it. But not regret. He thought he was finally moving up in the world. Would've killed again if the bandits asked."
"...And...his victim?"
The transmigrator could only respond with total honesty. "A father. In front of his daughter. She screamed as he bled out on their kitchen floor."
A long moment went by as judgement was passed.
Without a word, Katarina silently approached the bandits' hideout. She extended her arm and walked slowly, dragging her Fireball along the side of the building. Her methodical pace ensured that every bit of not-oil within reach caught aflame.
Quieter than throwing an explosive projectile against the wall, Simon thought with approval. He waited off to the side as the Arcane Rogue committed an act of righteous arson. There was no excitement or catharsis contained within her gaze – just a surety that this was something needed to be done.
Her task completed, Katarina returned to Simon, standing beside him. She paused to observe her handiwork, the reflected gleam in her eyes shining brighter by the second as the fire spread further.
"Is this what it's like to be corrupted by a Demon?" she asked the flames. Her voice was laced with bitter mirth. "Hmm. I suppose there are worse fates."
Patting her on the shoulder once, Simon walked up towards the hideout. This next step required him to be in close range. He came to a stop beside the wooden cabinet positioned in front of the door.
Inside, a chorus of agitated voices grew louder. The bandits had noticed that they were starting to feel a mite toasty. It wouldn't be long before they rushed outside.
Everything up until this point – assassinating the guard, spreading the not-oil, lighting the fire – had been the easy part. Operation Barbecue's real success hinged on keeping the rats confined to their sinking ship.
The transmigrator raised his Demonic right arm. Barrier. 360 MP. Maximum strength.
A translucent rectangle appeared in-between the front door and the wooden cabinet. Simon slotted his Barrier neatly in the middle, like a massive sheet of paper slipped through a tiny gap.
Second later – although the cabinet was obscuring his view – he heard the creak of the hideout's front door inwardly swinging open. There was a loud thump as a particularly eager bandit immediately ran forward–
And collided with the Barrier blocking his path.
The voices fell silent, likely dumbfounded over what they were seeing. From the bandits' perspective, their escape was being barred by a magically-enchanted cabinet Artifact. How else could they reconcile the sight of a glimmering forcefield superimposed over a piece of basic wooden furniture?
More noises crept into Simon's ears as he heard the shing of multiple swords being drawn. The bandits reacted in a manner befitting their station – by mindlessly hacking at the first sign of trouble. They assailed the 'Artifact' with gusto, swords crashing into the Barrier again and again.
It held. In fact, they hadn't come close to breaking it. While these bandits may have been dangerous to Joe Schmo off the street, compared to the Ravenous Wanderer or even Armand Calloway, they were no better than big fish in a small pond. It would take them time to breach a Barrier empowered with the sum total of Simon's MP.
Time that they...actually, that they did have. Death from heat and smoke inhalation wasn't anywhere near instant.
If the bandits had stayed calm, assessed the situation, and deduced that this strange 'Artifact' had to have a limit, then the Barrier would've eventually fallen. 360 MP was a lot, but it wasn't infinite, and it couldn't have withstood a concerted assault forever.
That was when the voices quieted once more. Simon grinned, knowing that they'd encountered his failsafe.
Attached to the cabinet, barely visible through the shimmer of Barrier and the worsening haze of smoke...was a letter. Just two curt sentences: a declaration and a lifeline.
"Kill each other.
The last one alive goes free."
As far as traps went, this one was painfully obvious. Even when accounting for how the bandits were stressed, panicked, and beginning to run lower on oxygen, nine out of ten people wouldn't have fallen for such a blatant ploy.
Thankfully, there were eleven.
A scream of pain. Shouts of outrage. Frantic babbling. Like listening to a radio drama, Simon closed his eyes and enjoyed the varied sounds emanating from inside the hideout.
Let's see...can only hear every other word...but yeah, someone lost it. Attacked his cohort. Stabbed from behind. He's shouting about how he doesn't want to die, and...
Simon hummed appreciatively. And how 'she never deserved to be leader anyway'? Hah, he's using the letter as an excuse to mutiny. Probably been planning this for months.
Shockingly, their group of cutthroat, backstabbing murderers didn't seem very internally cohesive. Grudges and grievances rose to the surface, the fire almost forgotten as half of them began spouting threats at someone or other. A noble few attempted to restore order, pointing out that they were screwed if they didn't soon escape...
Yet it was too late. Sparks had been thrown onto the powderkeg – all it took to light the flames of discord.
Although Simon did respect the lone bandit who'd never stopped attacking his Barrier, even as the rest of the group imploded. If the rest had kept their eye on the prize as well, I might've needed to bring out my second failsafe.
The mutiny commenced in full. It was a lopsided battle; the prime mutineer ringleader had grossly overestimated his support. His side wouldn't last long, doomed to be put down after a swift, brutal struggle.
It didn't matter. Just by arguing and fighting – thereby wasting time, thinning their numbers, and using up precious oxygen – they had already sealed their fates. Even if they all relentlessly attacked the Barrier from here on out, they would be so weakened that, when it broke, they'd be easy pickings for Simon and Katarina.
With a hint of disappointment, the transmigrator noted that he hadn't gained any EXP from the mutineers' demise. Instigating the death of another yields no Experience, he confirmed.
That was to be expected. The system hadn't granted EXP back when he killed a slaver with poison. If the death was too indirect, it didn't count – otherwise the gods' champion would be incentivized to increase their Levels via mass slaughter of vulnerable areas. He doubted that he'd get anything if the bandits burned to death or suffocated from arson, either.
Still, killing bandits was its own reward. Caelryn would be a marginally safer place after tonight. While it was more of a band-aid solution than anything else, as long-lasting change needed to come from the top, at least this would help staunch the city's bleeding.
Today was a good day. A content smile inched up Simon's face. He'd gotten to test a hypothesis, have a heart-to-heart with Kat, and even make a bit of progress on the side. No complaints.
From him, anyway. The bandits were becoming quite vocal about their predicament.
Minutes passed. Their struggling went from intense to fatigued as smoke and heat filled the hideout. The Barrier was heavily damaged by now, but their attacks were growing feeble, their bodies slowing as a makeshift oven cooked them alive. Some tried searching for weak spots in the walls – a last-ditch effort ruined by the fortifications that they themselves had installed.
Wish I'd brought some marshmallows to roast, Simon mused, ignoring the pleading and begging from inside. Though Kat probably wouldn't approve. Gallows humor isn't for everyone.
One-by-one, the voices faded as death or unconsciousness took them. The silence of the grave encroached upon the sounds of life, taking its due with each person who fell.
All that remained was a single stubborn bandit – the same who'd been incessantly attacking Simon's Barrier from the start.
That's good enough. If any others are still alive, I can finish them off personally and reap a solid Harvest. As for the straggler...
I think they've earned one last look at the night sky. Simon dismissed his Barrier.
With a crack of abused wood, something resembling a person plowed through the cabinet.
Tortured wailing gurgled from the charred-flesh-thing's throat as it collapsed into a heap on the ground. Severe burns had been seared all across its body, with most of its clothing having fused with its skin.
"Henry," Katarina breathed, dashing over to kneel beside him.
Simon raised an eyebrow, questioning how she could tell at this point – but a quick Identify proved her right. This was Henry. Looking...a tad worse for the wear.
The transmigrator paused in the middle of lifting his Demonic arm. Would rather Harvest him and wash my hands of this situation, but...
He looked at Kat. This could be important to her. "Do you want to bring Henry to a healer?"
She didn't answer, but he could see that she was listening. "He likely won't make it," Simon continued. "His odds of survival are exceedingly low. But it isn't impossible, and we do have the funds to afford treatment from a high-Level mage. Your call."
Still no answer. Katarina stared down at the young man who she'd once thought she knew, an unreadable expression on her face.
Finally, she spoke.
"It isn't fair, is it? That I'm here and you're not." Henry had already blacked out, but she talked onward as if he could hear her. "Truthfully, I don't see much difference between us. We both lived comparable lives. Struggled in similar fashions. Why is it that I've found a benevolent Demon willing to put trust in me, while you've consorted with humans who were far more monstrous?
Kat hung her head. "Even the Demon's soul-Scrying magic seems to have faith in me. Don't understand it. I'm not any more or less special than you. With the slightest twist of fate, I could've been the one choking on lungs full of smoke as my skin blistered and blackened."
She glanced down at the knife attached to her hip. "I could lie, claim that I was rewarded for refusing to kill an innocent, while you were punished for succumbing...but we're both smarter than that. No one is rewarded for compassion. I was lucky – that's all. The whims of the world just happened to favor me.
Offered up a chance like no other."
Sighing deeply, she stood up. "And I won't squander it. Farewell, Henry."
With an air that there was nothing more to say, Katarina turned away from him, facing Simon. "Please make it as painless as you can."
Nodding, the transmigrator grabbed Henry and activated Fell Harvest. It didn't take long for his breathing to cease.
Alert: A life has been Harvested!
3 stat points added to Unspent Points!
As the system notifications popped up, a vague...something stirred within Simon.
He couldn't bring himself to feel sympathy for Henry, not after the Sin Scry vision he'd witnessed, but he could still admit that the deck had been stacked against the thief-turned-murderer. If he'd grown up in a better environment, he wouldn't have felt the need to hitch his future to a gang of killers – felt that his only way forward was to walk a trail of blood.
That's why I've transmigrated. Even in an ideal world, cases like Henry will still exist, but I'll improve things as much as I feasibly can. Give everyone the fairest shot possible.
And to do that, I need more power.
Simon strode towards the burning hideout, on the hunt for survivors. He was almost to Level 19. If any of them were unconscious and still alive, they'd get him over the hurdle.
In a way, he was grateful for remorseless monsters like Armand and these bandits. They made things so delightfully...black and white. If everyone was like Henry, with his underdog background and accompanying 'What Ifs?', Simon would've had to agonize over every opportunity to gain EXP.
But this?
This, he could feel good about.
--
A life has been Harvested!
3 stat points added to Unspent Points!
A life has been Harvested!
3 stat points added to Unspent Points!
Your Level and Stats have increased!
Level: 18 → 19
Intelligence: 36 → 40
Alert: Heroic Valor's bonus has activated!
For performing an act of community service – excluding how you handled Henry – you have received bonus EXP!
Your Level has increased!
Level: 19 → 20
4 stat points added to Unspent Points! Allocate them at will!
--
Current Status:
Level: 20
HP: 270 / 270
MP: 400 / 400
Strength: 26
Dexterity: 30
Vitality: 27
Intelligence: 40
Unspent Points: 13
Katarina:
Level 13 → 14
--
Thanks for reading!
Comments
Jag Sandhu
So, Henry was a teachable moment, squandered?
Austin Boone
Y'know it almost feels like, if this was a more common heroes journey. This would be us seeing flashbacks of the right hand of the demon King (kat) as she was slowly corrupted by the demon.
