“Why is everything I have either black or white?”

That was the question I had asked myself over and over again.

For the past hour or so, I had been rummaging through my dresser for my ‘traveling’ clothes. Because fuck if I’m going to walk around in dresses and skirts for days on end! I mean I did it here, but that was because there was no incentive to wear anything different. Plus the homunculi laid out what I was going to wear every day; I had no room to sneak in some shorts or pants.

I hindsight, not really an issue because I didn't have many things beyond skirts and dresses. Only two pairs of pants. And a single pair of shorts. Everything else? Dresses, skirts, and cultish looking robes.

As a consolation, I had an above average amount of knee socks, leggings, and stockings. So that’s something.

I huffed as I examined myself in the white collared dress.

Honestly, even if I just threw up my hands and wore the damn dresses I’d be confronted with another problem. All the stuff I own looks stereotypically evil. It was all so sinister looking. Not just because they were dark colored. It was how they were designed. Like Tabula went to an anime villain’s garage sale and picked out all the female outfits he could find.

Little claw tips on gloves. Metal tipped shoes. Skull shaped pins. An assortment of evil crowns. A frightening selection of masks ranging from downright macabre to nightmare fuel. And, the most noteworthy item of all, so far, was a cape that looked like it was made of sown together skin.

Yeah. If I went out in any of this, in addition to my current physical looks, I’d come across like some Saturday morning cartoon villain. The ones that laugh all the time and monologue their evil plans to the heroes at length. The corny ones.

I reflexively tried to pull the dress’s edges down a little in some vain attempt to cover my pantyhose clad legs.

Took me an hour of digging through that closet to find something that looked remotely normal. A simple white tank top, a white coat, and a nice pair of black pants; with panties of course.

Wasn't going to be making that mistake again.

Fast forward to me putting on all that stuff, feeling pretty good about myself, and then the homunculi came in. They gave me a single look over and basically sat me down so they could pick out my clothes.

Again.

They tossed everything I had picked out and ignored my protests as they dressed me up. Now I was in a nice looking white long sleeve collared dress that almost ran all the way down to my knees, black bra, and a single pair of black pantyhose. Following that, they sat me down and did my hair up. My hair was combed to perfection. So now I had nice, silky smooth, bleached blonde hair running down to my upper back.

To finish the ensemble, they picked out a pair of thin black gloves, a little hat, a pair of boot looking heels, and a small blue cape.

And that is how I achieved my current ensemble.

As much as I hate to say it, the figure in the mirror looks beautiful. Even if it looks like an over designed cosplay of an anime character. And say what you will about my other dresses and skirts, at least they didn't feel like I wasn't wearing anything down there. The homunculi were adamant that I didn't need any panties beneath the pantyhose, no matter how breezy it felt between my legs; they argued I was sufficiently clothed.

Nodding again at my reflection, and giving up on lowering the shirts edges any further, I added the last piece of my persona to the mix.

“[Alter Appearance].”

Within seconds, my appearance began to shift. My skin gained color; became a fair tone rather than deathly pale. My hair color shifted from pale blond to regular blond. And my eyes sifted pallets entirely; changing from sickly amber to a mesmerizing emerald green.

While my clothes stayed the same, when the changes were complete it was like I was looking at a whole new person.

I had discovered [Alter Appearance] three days ago in my scientific pursuit of an appearance altering spell; meaning I spoke phrases aloud for the better part of three hours that I thought could be spells. This one stuck. And my form shifted to that of a man.

My excitement was short lived. A quick pat down of my body revealed that, no, my form had not actually shifted. My hands phased through my ‘sword’ below and touched my bare skin. The hair was the opposite, as I could feel the length of my hair had not changed. Feeling it still run down my back, despite appearing as if I was now a far shorter cut of hair.

It was just an illusion. The body’s real ‘features’ were still there.

I may have been thrown into a bit of a mood after that. I was using a new mirror after all.

Anyway, while the spell had failed to grant me a male form, even one that I would only change into for a brief time when I was alone, it does allow me to mingle amongst humans without drawing unwanted attention. Instead of a spooky pale lady with eerie golden eyes, I was now merely a fair skinned lady with normal green eyes.

Yes it was all coming together now.

With a quick twirl of my cape, I walked over to my weapons of choice for this ‘adventure’.

The first was a relatively simple tool, Occam's Razor. Thought it was closer to a short sword than a razor; about as long as the length between my elbow to my forefinger. Nothing overly impressive, just a blade with a slightly ornate grip. It was pretty sharp though. Managed to accidentally cut the arm off a chair when I was testing its sharpness. While that may not sound all that impressive, if even being lit on fire wasn’t enough to mar the furniture yet this thing was able to cut through it like a hot knife through butter, then yes this thing was sharp. And probably magical.

It can also shatter mirrors pretty well…..

Thankfully, the sword came with its own little belt and sheath, so that was neat!

My second, and primary, weapon is a magic staff. Didn't know if it had a name or not. Hell, didn't know how powerful it actually was. Found it in vase, off to the far corner of my room clumped together with a bunch of other staves. Looked more like decoration than weapons but no, they work.

Naturally, in appearance they ranged from demonic looking to merely menacing. So I just picked the one that had the least amount of spikey bits. My staff of choice was a smooth dark silver one. It was about as tall as I was, had weird lating writings intended all over it, and seemingly clutched a jagged blood red gem at the top.

Yes this was the least evil looking staff; the dark sinister staff with a blood stone at the top!

However, I only needed it to not be spikey.

Staff in hand, I used [Alter Appearance] again.

Before my eyes, the staff changed color pallets. Dark silver turned to a lighter shade of silver and the gem changed from bloody red to ocean blue.

It maintained the same shape as before, yet it no longer looked like it was picked up at Sauron’s yard sale.

I rushed back over to the mirror to take it all in again.

‘I look badass!’

I will deny to my dying breath that I stood there for a solid ten minutes posing.

The night prior, I even came up with a backstory for my ‘character’. Oh geez the double meanings…

Anyway, I was going to be masquerading as the mage “Lilly”. “Lilly” was a mage from a far off land and was traveling to take in new sights. “She” is a talented mage, capable of casting Tier 4 magic. “She” has no interest in love right now, but is always open to making friends.

That's about as far as I got. I’ll just adlib the rest as I interact with people.

Satisfied that I was properly equipped, and my story was straight, I looked to the clock.

‘Almost dawn,’ I noted.

Humming to myself, I marched out of my room to the lab floor staff in hand and razor strapped to my waist; heels clicking as I went. I had tasked the homunculi with an important task last night.

“My Lady, we have gathered the items you requested,” one of the alchemists proudly presented a countertop covered in all manner of alchemical creations. Heath potions, magic potions, stamina potions, oils, bombs, poisons, scrolls, and even a few things that I had no idea about. As a whole, there must have been almost a hundred items laid out for me.

This was a bit much in my humble opinion. Yet, I did ask them to give me “everything you think I will need while out of the Tomb”. So can I really complain when they follow my orders?

And how was I to carry this small laboratory worth of potions and stuff? Well by messing with the fabric of space and time of course!

At the edge of the counter, I conjured a purplish portal. This was my ‘item box’. A system from Yggdrasil that was player inventory; the place where items not being used are stored. In the New World, it was an alternate pocket dimension where no time passed that functioned much the same way. I can retrieve things by just sticking my hand into the portal and thinking about what I want to take out. Said item would then come into my hand, and that was that.

Yes. I was playing around with the very fabric of reality and making it a glorified backpack. I feel that anyone would do the same.

Not wanting to waste time, I just dragged the items off using the length of my arm on the counter and into the portal. Didn't even have to worry about missing. Just being around this hole in reality, and me wanting it to go in, was enough for these things to be dragged in even if the item in quiet just clipped the edge of the purple disk.

“Is there anything else you require?” The homunculi asked as the last of the potions were dragged into the portal.

“Nothing right now,” I placed my staff in the disk before closing it. Rather not walk around with it at all times if I can help it. “I’ll send a message back if I need anything.”

“Excellent My Lady. Then we are ready to depart.”

I cocked an eyebrow at that. “We?”

The girl looked sheepishly at me. “Yes...Well. We thought it would be best if you were...accompanied during your excursion.” She looked around the room for more support.

“Forgive us My Lady,” another cut in. “But you are not the most...outdoors oriented individual.”

“Yeah,” yet another added. “It’ll be...easier for you this way.”

I don’t like how they are really watching what they say. They’re acting like I’m some invalid incapable of independent action. This whole thing was supposed to give me some ‘me’ time. To get away from the denizens of Nazarick. It defeats the whole purpose if I have a gaggle of nannies following me around!

“I’m going to a city,” I countered. “I have no intention of staying in the wilds for any length of time.”

“We would feel more at ease if you just had some help,” the second replied, ignoring my statement.

You know what, fine whatever, I’ll just ask them to do stuff and leave me alone.

“Okay, fine.” I pinched the ridge of my nose. “But only two.”

She smiled, “of course My Lady.”

Without waiting, two of the girls walked up and stood by my side.

“These two are the most capable mages amongst our number, I hope they will serve you well My Lady.”

Wait, most capable mages? Doesn't that just mean they are level 1 mages?

“Thank you,” I thanked her regardless. I had too little time to be arguing semantics.

Guild ring in hand, and the assistants holding onto my shoulders, we teleport away.

----
---

The three of us teleported to the entrance of the Tomb. Waiting for us was a single opulent looking carriage being drawn by weird horses, their eyes glowed blue and they seemingly breathed black smoke. Additionally, there was a single figure in a brown traveling cloak; a woman with snowy pale skin and silky black hair tied in a ponytail.

The red cloaked woman noticed me and my assistants. First, confusion flashed in her eyes at my approach. Then realization.

“Good morning, Lady Citrinitas,” she gave me a curt bow.

“You as well, Narberal Gamma,” I realized who I was speaking with. The soon to be famous ‘Nabe’ of the hero Momon’s adventuring team. I look around for Ainz. “I assume I’m not late.”

“No, Lord Ainz has yet to arrive,” Narberal gestured to the carriage. “I arrived an hour ago to oversee the carriage.”

“And is everything in order?” Trying to start up some small talk.

“Yes, we will be ready to leave on Lord Ainz’s order.”

“Ah, right then-”

Even before I finished my comment, a portal opened up to the side. Emerging from it was a large figure in black plate with a bright red cape and a mature looking woman in glasses.

“Good, everyone is here,” Ainz’s voice had an echoey effect with the helmet on. He turned to Narberal. “Are the carriage and Dark Steeds ready Narberal?”

The maid gave him a deep bow before responding, “of course Lord Ainz. Everything is to your exact specifications.”

He nodded, “Good.” Ainz turned to me. “Once we part ways on the road to E-Rathel, the carriage steeds are yours.”

“Thank you Lord Ainz,” that was generous.

“Think nothing of it,” he waved off my thanks. “Normally I’d recommend simply teleporting such a distance, but until we have a firm grasp on the magic of this world, and its limits, I would rather not take the chance that the city you are destined for does not have a system similar to Nazarick in place to deter unwanted teleportation.”

So he was worried I might accidentally be sent to a dungeon cell like how the Tomb can just reroute teleports at will? A little paranoid in my opinion. Barley anyone in this world can muster a Tier 3 spell let alone the magic required for everything he just implied.

But that still left one question.

“Pardon Lord Ainz but,” how to phrase this without getting four NPCs in a hissy fit. “How can I go around without eliciting suspicion when the horses look too...unnatural to what the people are used to?”

The lich hummed, “an excellent observation.” Walking over to the steeds, he held his hand out. “[Alter Appearance]”. Moments later, the horse looked normal. “There, that should do it.”

I nodded to myself and started to walk over, only for an armored hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“Apologizes Citrinitas,” Ainz told me. “But before we go, I want you to hand over your Guild Ring to Yuri Alpha.”

I froze. Why was he taking the ring back? Did he not trust me now? Did he realize what I wanted to use the ring for? Was he-

“I’ve decided to have the Guild Rings remain within the Tomb,” Ainz continued, breaking me out of my feverish thoughts. “It’ll be returned to you when you return.”

At the mention of ‘when you return’ a part of me wanted to scream ‘never’. But the rational part smashed that reaction down to the depths of my mind. Not only was that a stupidly short sighted response, but I have no doubt I would be faced with many questions as the sole NPC who is ignoring a direct order from the “Supreme” Being.

Without delay, I pulled the ring off my finger and placed it in Yuri’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you Lady Citrinitas,” Yuri thanked me.

As if I had a choice.

“Good,” Ainz commented. “Let us be off.”

---
---
---

Ainz realized shortly into their journey that the seating was less than ideal.

In his bulky suit of armor, he took up an entire side all on his own. Citrinitas’s homunculi mages had to sit in the ‘front’ of the carriage. Tasked with holding the reins of the Dark Steeds to give the illusion to passing travelers that they were mere horses.

Naberal sat across from him, staring intensely at him. He didn't know whether she was actually looking at him or just staring off into the distance and just happened to be looking in his direction.

For her part, Citrinitas pulled a book out from her item box to read. Occasionally flipping a page.

For over an hour, the carriage rolled on; and he grew bored.

Say what he will about the real world, but he never realized just how slow travel was without modern convenience. No cars or trains here. While he wanted to just teleport into E-Rathel and be done with it, he was hesitant to just teleport into a major population center.

While individually, the magic casters of the New World seemingly left much to be desired, he still didn't know to what extent magic in the new world mirrored Yggdrasil magic. Yes, they had tier magic, but without game rules to constrain it how much could be done? Perhaps individually they were weak, but if a hundred or so magic casters channeled their powers together, they could achieve spells of comparable power to super-tier magic? Or a way to reroute unauthorized teleports to a dungeon.

He’d rather have this land’s first impression of Momon not be appearing in a dungeon cell for illegal teleportation.

Even still, in spite of his undead form dulling his emotions, he couldn't deny his excitement to be an adventurer in a fantasy world for real.

“So,” Citrinitas broke the silence of the quiet ride. “What’s your backstory?”

“What?” Wait. Backstory? That’s a very specific term. She couldn't possibly be referring to-

“I mean, my persona is going to be Lilly, the traveling mage from a far off land,” she clarified.

‘Oh that kind of backstory’. “Truthfully, I haven't given it much thought. I was hoping to use the allure of a mysterious past to let people draw their own conclusions and increase interest in ‘Momon’.”

She nodded her head knowingly. “Yeah. Mystery has its appeal. Personally, I’m going a bit all out on my character.”

‘All out?’

“What I mean is I’m going to be a prodigy,” she clarified for him. “If anyone asks what my limits are I’m going to tell them ‘I am capable of Tier Four magic’.” the way she said that word made it seem almost like a joke. “I’m even using this item to suppress half my magical aura rather than all of it. You know, prodigies need to look powerful and all.”

For one of the first times since coming to the New World, he actually did get it.

Ainz Ooal Gown was not just a gathering of friends, but also a low key Role Playing guild. They never got obsessed with it like some guilds and players. But you don’t design a Guild base as intricate as Nazarick and not have a flair for the dramatic.

“Also, before I forget, I wanted to ask you if you’d talked to Shalltear yet about my-,” she looked over to Naberal for a split second, then back to Ainz. “Issues with her.”

Oh he could feel the emotion suppression coming back as he remembered that conversation.

Ainz went to Shalltear immediately after speaking with the homunculus expecting the worst. This was Shalltear after all, the embodiment of all of Peroroncino’s favorite fetishes. Rape included. He expected he would need to put his foot down and use his authority as guild master to get her to stop her harassment.

Instead, he was surprised to find that Shalltear’s harassment had not been intended to be viewed as harassment but as genuine attempts at affection. The vampire had apparently found a book left by Peroroncino that, according to Shalltear, held the keys to build a relationship with your ‘wife’.

The vampire almost broke down in tears after learning what Citrinitas’s perspective of her actions were.

And said book Shalltear was citing was not a relationship guide at all. It was a H-game guide for a Yuri dating sim. She had misunderstood what ‘building affection’ meant. Apparently, Shalltear was trying to ‘build affection’ with Citrinitas so they could marry. The harassment Citrinitas reported were, as the guide called it, the ‘fastest way to build the affection bar for the yuri wedding scenes’.

So Ainz sat her down and explained to her how she shouldn't follow the guide. He had to wriggle a lot of gaming logic and how Shalltear took every word of that guide as scripture from Peroroncino directly. It took two whole hours of talking to the vampiress to get her to realize that she was going ‘too fast’ and that ‘skipping’ steps along the way was damaging her relationship. She needed to use the book as it was ‘intended’ a guide to help her reach a loving relationship rather than a set of hard instructions that must be followed word for word.

He also made sure that Shalltear would apologize to Citrinitas next time they saw each other.

‘Umu Peroroncino , why would you put something like that in Yggdrasil! That wasn't not just a backstory but a word for word copy of a retail Hentai game guide! If a GM caught wind of it, that might have resulted in a temp ban for you and possibly us for not catching it!’ Yggdrasil had a very strict policy on R-rated material. The closet loopholes you could do were simply being circumspect about such material rather than outright say it.

As much as he cared about his friends, he would never deny sometimes they acted in truly stupid ways.

He coughed into his hand as the suppressant flared up again. “Yes I did. And I’m certain that it shouldn't be an issue anymore.”

She smiled, “thanks Lord Ainz.”

Ainz looked out the window, cursing that the steeds didn't go any faster.

----
----
----

So about two thirds of the way to the city, Ainz and Naberal got out to do their own thing; opting to walk the rest of the way. He wished us good luck and reported anything unusually we see. Boilerplate stuff.

As they walked west to E-Rathel, we rode east to Arwintar; capital city of the Baharuth Empire.

A plus side of having inhuman steeds was that they never needed to stop to rest or eat and they were so fast compared to regular horses. Almost a full day from splitting with Ainz, and we hadn't stopped once! The carriage was actually roomy enough, now that Ainz was gone, for me to stand up and stretch my arms and legs about. Sure I could have stopped at any time to just walk around, but I’d rather just arrive in the city sooner than later.

The ride also gave me a lot of time to read the various books I had stored in my item box. Chief amongst them were the mysterious ‘Magnum Opus’ and a literal Yggdrasil spell guide. Helped me know how to cast a few more spells at least.

But now the moon was high in the night sky. Given the change in foliage, I assume we have crossed the border into the Empire by now. I was tired. No matter how exciting any book is, sometimes you just get bored.

At some point I had laid my head down on one of the homunculi mage’s laps as the other sat in front.

I was bored.

“So I have to ask,” I started, hoping to break the monotony of open road and rumbling dirt.

The homunculi turned from the window, looking down to my head in her comfortable lap. “Yes My Lady?”

“I’m curious about you all.”

“Us?”

“Yeah,” I collected my thoughts. “What I mean is.. I know you homunculi are independent minded beings, not a hive mind I mean, but you all do look the same and were created about the same time. So I have to ask how that works. I mean, do recognize each other despite the fact that you all look and sound the same? And so on.”

“That's a very big question,” the homunculi began. “To start, while we don’t have names like the other servants of the Tomb, we can tell each other apart. Each of my sisters and I are all unique in our own ways. We might have all started from the exact same point in time, but our own experiences have colored our views and made our thinking divergent from one another.”

“You don’t have a name?” I asked without even realizing.

“Well we-”

Before she could even finish her sentence, the carriage came to an abrupt stop.

I sat up and looked outside, only to see the homunculus who was holding the reigns of the steeds at the carriage door.

“My Lady,” she said, opening the carriage door. “A group of ill equipped and poorly dressed humans are blocking the path.”

Wait. Ill equipped and poorly dressed, appearing in the middle of the night, while also blocking a main road? “You mean bandits?”

“If that is what such a group is called, then yes My Lady.”

True to her word, there were over a dozen bandits staring me down. Holding a mishmash of weapons, improvised and proper, along with a scattering of armor. Their collection of torches lit the otherwise moonlit road.

One man, the leader I guess, walked in front of the group. He was a bearded man who looked like a tower of bulging muscle and scarred flesh. An opened shirt showed off his sculpted physique.

“Good evening my good ladies. What are three fine looking ladies such as yourselves doing on this lonesome road at this hour?”

Oh geez. Definitely bandits. From all my time playing RPGs I can just tell the stereotypical ‘smooth taking’ bandit. The ones who call their robberies ‘toll collection’ or something similar.

It also just occurred to me that my first interaction with ‘normal’ people in years was at the other end of a robbery. Quite shitty luck I have there.

“Traveling,” I replied. I silently cast [Detect Life] to see if this was all of the bandits around us. Beyond myself and my assistants, I got sixteen pings; all in front of us.

“Where too?” He pressed.

“Arwintar.” I cast [Detect Magic] in search of any magic casters or ambient magic in their group or surrounding area. Outside of a ping of myself, the steeds, and the homunculi, nothing.

“Capital is some days from here,” he told me.

“Look,” I began wanting to end this little shakedown in progress. “You really don’t want to do this. So just back off. You go your way. We go our way. How about it?

The lead bandit scratched his beard, and smiled; ignoring my warning. “Tell you what, you ladies seem like the decent type so I’ll make this simple; give us all your gold, your carriage, and the horses, and we’ll let you go come dawn. Haven't had a noble girl grace our camp before.” His lecherous eyes roamed over my body.

“You're too generous,” I mocked him. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer. And if you value your life, I suggest leaving while you still can.”

“Hey that boys,” he turned to his men. “She’s ‘declining’ us!” He broke out laughing as if I had told some joke. The rest of his men followed suit. Apparently ignoring my whole ‘value your life’ part of my thing.

The bearded leader walked up to me as his gaggle laughed on, attempting to use his height, bulging muscles, and scarred pecs to intimidate me. “Listen girl, I get you aren't from here. So you're acting all tough because you're scared. I bet where you’re from, your noble daddy gives you everything you want. But in these parts no girl just ‘declines’ a night with Saegor the Bull.”

That is not even remotely close to what I am.

“Well there’s a first time for anything.”

He chuckled, “I like your spunk girl.” I felt his hand grab my arm, running his hand from shoulder to wrist. “But you need to learn how to just take the best offer you have sometimes and just suck it up. Though, you’ll be doing more than that tonight.” His men again laughed at his ‘wit’.

“How thoughtful,” I resisted the urge to reach into my Item Box and chuck an acid vial at him. Were bandits meant to be this stereotypically, bandit-y? ‘Give me your money, then I rape you?’

“I am,” he agreed either not realizing or not caring about my sarcasm. His hand grasped mine. He squeezed a bit, not enough to hurt. Maybe he was trying to make it hurt, but my stats were far above what he could do to reasonably injure me. “And if you're really good, I’ll make sure it’s only me that has you and your maids tonight, rather than sharing you with my boys. They ain't as accommodating as I am.”

I ignored the ‘playful’ banter, heckling, and good natured denials from his ‘men’.

Screw this.

I’m confident to say that I have exhausted all diplomatic options. Now it's time to try out some of the spells I read about earlier. I placed my gloved hand on his chest. He smiled, he placed his unused hand atop it. Not realizing what I was about to do.

“There we go,” rubbing my wrist with his thumb. “See, I knew you were the smart-”

“[Black Blood],” my spell cut him off.

A pulse of purple energy covered the man for a brief second. The effects were instantaneous. The man started to scream as black veins zig zagged across his body. He fell down to his knees, screaming turned to a thick gurgling noise as tar like black liquid poured from his mouth. Then he hit the ground dead.

The whole thing had taken a little over ten seconds.

How did he die so fast? That was only a Tier three spell!

I looked back to his gang. The laughter from before was gone. As was the bravado. They stood motionless as “The Bull” lay dead in a pool of his own blackened blood. HIs killer, a seemingly innocent girl. Their eyes wide open. I could hear the chattering of their teeth as they stood petrified.

They muttered amongst themselves.

“An adventurer..”

“Magic caster.”

“What did she do?”

One of them, after seeing what I did, seemed to have grown tired of life. He came at me, hatchet in hand.

“Die damn bitch!”

I simply held my hand out, “[Fireball].”

A single ball of orange flame raced from my palm and bathed the man in fire.

He screamed and writhed in the flames. Falling to the ground, rolling about in a desperate attempt to put out the flames. The rolling and cries continued for half a minute, all the while the bandits watched as he burned alive.

When the flames and screams stopped, all that remained was a charred corpse.

Fight or flight instincts must have finally kicked in, as the entire gaggle charged me as one. Whether to avenge their fallen leader and comrade, or hoping to kill me through sheer numbers, I couldn't say.

What I did know was that this was an optimal time to try out a wide area high tier spell I read about. If a tier three spell can do that to a man in a matter of seconds, what can a tier five do?

“[Curse of Agony].”

As the words were uttered, the spell took hold of them. They collapsed onto the ground like puppets whose strings were cut. Screaming in unrelenting pain. Their bodies contorted themselves in unnatural ways, limbs literally breaking as they jutted and contorted, their bodies seemingly ripping themselves apart just beneath the skin. Unimaginable torment flooded across their forms.

For all the pain I was causing these people, to the extent where a few had seemingly bit off their own tongues without noticing, I felt no remorse for them. They were a bunch of bandits that would probably have taken me to their camp as a sex slave; as they probably had done to dozens of girls before. Not counting all the lives they may have taken regardless.

So no, I wasn't going to get hung up on the deaths of a couple slavers.

But I didn't necessarily feel good about what I did either. I just felt nothing.

Like swatting an annoying fly that keeps flying too close to your ear. You’re relieved that it’s gone, but you don’t get overly hung up on the experience in one way or the other.

Honestly, the thing that really stood out to me was how fragile they are. I knew that the New World was skewed towards the lower level range. But to see it….

I concede that [Cruse of Agony] is a tier five spell so ‘normal’ people in this world being simply defeated by it was a given to me. But [Black Blood] was only a tier three spell, well within the range of spellcasters here. Either that man was way weaker than he was letting on, or was I really overestimated the capabilities of this world.

As silence returned, I realized that the men had stopped screaming. A few looked dead, blood oozing from their mouths. Most had dead looks in their eyes; their bodies still twitching and contorting. One man actually seemed aware, but his throat had gone raw from screaming earlier so he just laid there with his jaw wide open.

Walking over to one of them with a glassy stare, I lightly tapped his face with the tip of my shoe. No response. Not even an involuntary twitch from where I tapped him.

They were a collection of broken men now.

Even if I turned these men in to the proper authorities, what lives could they have after this? Forget simply being cripples, their minds seemed to have broken as well; with no reaction to outside stimuli. Doubt anyone wants to heal a bunch of rapists either. These men had no life ahead of them.

‘It’s a mercy they don’t deserve. But I’m not like them,’ I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I held out my hand.

“[Cry of the Banshee].”

A pulse of purple energy from the tier six spell meant to kill large numbers of low level mobs radiated from my hand onto all the men. Immediately, they stopped breathing. Instant, painless death.

I walked back to the carriage. One foot in, I looked back at the alchemists who had been watching the whole exchange.

“Strip them of any valuables. Burn the rest.”

Ten minutes later, the carriage was on the move again, a few sacks of bronze and silver coins richer. A haphazard pile of burning bodies lit the road behind us.

We had no more incidents on the road to Arwintar.