It was… pandemonium.    

General Blackthorn, Guildmaster Thornbrook, and Chief Justice Darkfeather were told different things to expect when the rebellion started.  

But this ensured a three-way brawl. Fights broke out all over the city. The men outside the city gates instantly started killing each other in brutal combat. Honestly, they were yearning for an excuse to shed blood. Tension and stress were at an all-time high.    

That would be a lot of corpses.    

However, it could’ve been much worse—for them, not me. I desired to use my waypoints to cause confusion and keep friendly fire to a minimum. For example, those with General Blackthorn would see green waypoints above themselves and the rebellion’s army. Those with Thornbrook and Darkfeather would have orange waypoints, which denoted enemies. But Tris could alter a waypoint’s color so it appeared green to person A and orange to person B, which would’ve been used to cause mayhem. Tris estimated there would be about 30,000 individual waypoints with about 40,000 separate permissions. It was just too much for her-- even if she entered her maxed-out processing mode, the ability to handle that much data wasn’t there yet.    

Even if it was, she warned me that her cooldown had the potential to be about six months. And there was a risk of losing her physical body and returning to my mind, where she’d be in some stasis. I couldn’t be without Tris’s skills, voice, or presence for that long, so we altered the plan so that only I had the waypoints. Doing it for me lessened the stress she felt, and it was nice to have an icon denoting who I needed to kill without spending more than a second or two verifying my target’s allegiance. To have some semblance of control, we developed codewords and gave them to General Blackthorn’s men, the rebellion, and the Citrine Reapers. It wasn’t the best, but it would work well enough.    

But there was one element I hadn’t told the others about, although there were whisperings in the darkness a few days ago about corpses going missing and graves being...mysteriously opened.   

There was a chimera on the loose, and he was my clone. Tris knew Little Gregory's handwriting. She had studied his writing for weeks and crafted the perfect forgery of a pair of mercenary contracts for the chimera's services. But it was valid to anyone who looked at it since it had his seal, signature, and blood. I didn't know if I would use this, but it was nice to have. Tris and Tilde said I couldn't go wrong with having more options. And it was better to have them and not need them than need them and not have them.  

But organizing a massive multi-faction brawl was for this moment. Clone!Chimera had four orders. He wasn’t to attack any innocents or people trying to hide, couldn’t kill or harm any members of the rebellion, had to kill Cid to give Ayroix the final boost of strength and determination he needed to see this through, and he had to die to the future ruler of Atrix.     

Everything else was free game. If my clone came across corpses? He had orders to assimilate them, regardless of whether they were friend or foe.  

Tris kept a watchful eye over the battlefield but focused on the key players.  

I saw my clone wreak absolute havoc in the [Skyview] window. Bellerophon wasn't present inside Atrix or Plymoise, so the poison was a non-concern. A dozen vines wrapped in flames birthed from his monstrous form, stabbing into the group trying to kill him with spear and sword.    

In seconds, those impaled were sucked dry with [Drain]. Bestial mouths opened on the sharp appendages to eat their targets alive.    

The fear factor was there. Seeing a transforming monster take forms only belonging to your worst nightmare could kill anyone’s drive. Better yet, since Cid and this chimera were my only clones, I had Clone!Chimera branch off into multiple others to further spread mayhem, although their orders were to go around and assimilate the dead.    

And thus, my primary goal was over. Victory was absolutely assured.    

But I didn’t become a spectator. While eyeing a few things, I actively joined the fight, focusing on where the rebellion was currently the weakest while leaving Lysander to be near Ayroix. Most of the time, my presence alone was the morale boost the freedom fighters needed, but I always helped even the odds. [Liberation Vanguard] assisted quite a bit, granting the tired and exhausted a second wind.    

“The High Elf of Liberation is real!”   

“She does exist!”   

“Come, brothers! We can fight! We cannot give up! We hold the upper hand!”   

“Atrix will be ours! We shall free it from its cruel ruler! Death to Gregory Atrix! Death to Gregory Atrix!”   

General Blackthorn had specific plans to fight through the soldiers guarding Merchant Guildmaster Thornbrook and Chief Justice Darkfeather, but he wasn’t alone. He had two of Verdant’s spies and his personal guard following him. The rest were behind at his estate to safeguard his family. I had tried to get them to safety, but the general said they’d be safer in the emergency bunker he had built in his basement.   

It wasn’t so safe if I, as a slime, could drip through the cracks and enter, but whatever. It was what it was.   

The general hated the guildmaster and chief justice with passion. Once things were under control, I used the cover of darkness to transform into the form I used when I spoke with him. I ran like the devil throughout the still-crowded streets, shooting my silenced 92FS, scoring a kill with every shot. Bodies dropped, but the combatants didn’t know why because the silencer eliminated all sound. From their perspective, people merely dropped dead after blood splattered from their heads.    

It took thirty minutes to reach the general, but I had unlocked [Active Reload], [Automatic Reload] a M1911, a Beretta M9, and a snub-nosed Taurus 856.     

With [Active Reload], I regained a portion of soul energy spent in the last five seconds by reloading my weapon. The skill granted me a phantom magazine, phantom clip, or phantom shells, and if I dropped it or took too long? It would vanish, and I wouldn’t get anything. The cooldown was proportional to the recovered amount.     

The second took ammo from my person—or [Void Storage], after Tris altered it-- and automatically reloaded any magazines or clips. The other three were obviously pistols, but I didn’t want to use them yet.    

The general believed me to be an enemy when I jumped near him. He faced me and attempted to end my life with his excellent swordsmanship as that gleaming blade reflected my eyes in the crystal moonlight.  

“The rose blooms in silence!” I exclaimed. At the last second, his sword froze, the edge tasting my skin, not blood.    

“And whispers carry on the wind,” he replied. “Forgive me, but I’d advise you not to jump out in front of a warrior next time.”   

“I won’t hold it against you,” I said, retrieving a random spear I had stolen. I didn’t want to use any more guns or Kronto. “There’s no time. Come! We must kill Guildmaster Thornbrook and Chief Justice Darkfeather.”   

“Lead the way!”  

Approximately 2,648 individuals have perished, my lord.   

Tris gave me a brief rundown while we ran. 

---

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS—” General Blackthorn refused to share words with the woman he hated the most and stabbed his weapon through her chest, cutting off her annoying voice.    

We entered her estate about ten minutes ago, but the guards cowardly ran away when the fighting started.    

They didn’t survive, though. My chimera and its clones saw that.  My biomass and mana were constantly refilled from the non-stop assimilation so I could have them out for the entire night.   

“…” Blackthorn merely watched. Thornbrook heaved heavily and tried to remove the foreign object, but she was weak. Mercantile knowledge was her strength, not brawn and muscle.    

Long ago, she had screwed over Blackthorn and withheld vital supplies, causing his unit's destruction. The scheme was part of a kickback with a fellow city-state—essentially, Atrix had secretly sold the lives of his soldiers for money to a city-state who wished to test a spell they had made. Blackthorn knew Thornbrook had done it.   

She had gotten drunk and told him herself days after it happened.   

Getting drunk and spilling secrets... Seemed like the city was cursed by irresponsible drinkers who never had to face the consequences of their actions.   

But Lord Atrix gaslit Blackthorn into dropping it—into making himself seek that he was the cause of his soldiers' deaths.    

On the surface, he played along with it. He even endured the ridicule from the other nobles and taunting towards his family. He didn’t have that much respect anymore. The army was splintered towards being loyal to him or Thornbrook.   

And he never forgot. Thornbrook was the one person he needed to kill. And it was that grudge and irrefutable proof that made him too easy to sway to my side with sweet words and cheap promises.    

But this wasn’t a movie. Blackthorn didn’t utter any epic speeches, monologues about justice, or pretentious bullshit. He merely ended the life of a despicable woman who helped sell her countrymen and left her to die alone.  

The general was getting up there in age. It wouldn’t be long before lifting a sword was an improbability. But Blackthorn loved his city-state. He wanted to leave it in good hands. Even if I hadn’t shown up and arranged this, I knew the general had planned to stage a coup once he had a way to get his family out of the city-state.   

Guess I beat him to the punch, but he’d have lost his life in that failed rebellion.   

After leaving, we ran to the other side of town, bypassing scores of armored corpses littered in the streets like trash. Blood marred the cobbled pathways, contrasting the once-vibrant market stalls, now tarnished with ash and debris. The coup's proof was clear to all, but I was thankful that most of the participants were actual soldiers or fool-hardy idiots who wished to fight for a man who would throw them away at the drop of a hat. The citizens, at least, had enough sense to stay in their homes.   

---

The chief justice's house was up in flames—something difficult to notice from a distance because of the hazy smoke suffocating the skies. Flames raged across Atrix, from the waters in the harbor to even the walls themselves.    

It really seemed like the city was on its last legs.     

“Your task is almost over,” I told Blackthorn. He holstered his weapon and turned around. “But there is much to do. A city cannot endure without any guidance. And you shall assist the new ruler with a fair and just hand. But a town requires people. You cannot rule over nothing and expect to thrive.”   

“I understand,” he said, turning to his soldiers. “Return to my estate and send messengers. Tell our men to focus on regrouping, protecting, and securing our citizens. We’ll leave the bulk of the fighting to Ayroix and his rebellion.”   

“Sir!” The soldiers nodded and ran to complete their task. Meanwhile, Blackthorn made his way to Ayroix. The spies went their way, and I returned to the road filled with corpses.    

I’d never miss this opportunity. After Tris ensured no one was watching, I used a layer of thick slime to assimilate the bodies.  

But I wasn’t done. There were hundreds left. And by the time the night ended, it would be in the thousands. And that wasn’t counting the soldiers killing each other in Tiran’s Crest. The mystical fog that hid it so well vanished after the coup began. And once they saw the smoke, they followed the orders I had given them via Thornbrook and Blackthorn. 

---

Another three hours had passed since Blackthorn went to join Ayroix and Cid. They fought Lord Atrix’s mercenaries to reach his estate under the morning sun. The thick, black smoke obscuring the sky made it seem as if it was dusk, though.     

I watched them advance through the courtyard, dispatching the soldiers who had chosen to defend their lord with their dying breaths. They had most likely immediately headed here after my initial attack. They weren’t the strongest. The most powerful was only Lv. 44, but the strength I had gained tonight pushed Cid over the edge.   

He was a whirlwind of death, using [Fire Whip], [Flame Defense], and [Flame Root] to attack, defend, and entrap as they progressed, and his swordplay was like a lioness toying with her cub.  

But then my chimera showed up on winds made from bone and sinew. It made one hell of an entrance and immediately started the brawl. Its fear alone froze the remaining soldiers to their core, and they soon died a violent, bloody death.   

It was a back-and-forth affair. Verdant and three of her spies showed up, as scheduled, and obeyed Ayroix when he told them to secure their target. The Forest Elf raced towards the villa with her daggers and allies at the ready, and I continued watching from the city's ramparts. During the night, my eyes had unlocked another level of magnification, granting me a 4x zoom. When combined with my rifle, it was 8x.    

Twenty thousand have died since your opening strike. Most casualties belong to our enemies.  

That’s good to know.   

Blackthorn’s men have approximately 47% of the city under their control. The progression should accelerate.  

Okay.  

As the flames danced and devoured the city below, casting an eerie glow upon the chaos, I lifted her flute to my lips and watched Cid die after taking a mortal blow meant for Ayroix.  

Seconds ago, Lysander had been tossed aside like trash, and he cried out while recovering to his feet. He rushed past Ayroix and hefted his shield, joining Blackthorn in fending off the chimera from turning its sight on the young leader.  

 My delicate fingers gracefully danced along the instrument, summoning a haunting melody that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the revolution—it synced perfectly with Ayroix’s horrified cries.    

The notes carried a bittersweet longing, blending with the crackling of fires burning the courtyard and the distant sounds of turmoil from a harsh fight inside the villa. It was a melody of defiance, courage, and a fervent desire for change. The music soared through the smoky air, weaving its way into the hearts of those who heard it, igniting a flicker of hope amidst the darkness and igniting the spirit of revolution in their souls.   

Suddenly, Ayroix turned his head. There was no way he could see me. But I knew he had heard my playing. His face… He was crying. But he was determined to see this through to the end.    

He wouldn’t dare let the death of his father’s brother extinguish his spirit. Especially not if the High Elf of Liberation had her gaze on him.     

He was far too close to his goal.    

He knew he needed to push harder—burn that rebellious flame even brighter.     

With a mighty yell, he ran to Blackthorn and Lysander and helped him push away the chimera-- it looked like a bipedal bear with twelve large, thick paws covered in ice.    

It had used [Furia Glacies] for no reason other than to make itself more imposing.    

The three fought in tandem, covering for each other while pushing back my clone. Axe met flesh and tasted blood while sword cleaved bone and fur—their war cries reached an apex, yet their determined shouts soared even higher. Magic welled up from within the aged general as he unleashed a wave of lightning towards Lysander’s shield. He used its innate ability and reflected it at the chimera, electrocuting the monstrous bear-like monstrosity before the general kneeled and vomited blood.   

Ayroix took advantage of the opening and jumped in the air, bringing his axe down upon my chimera with tear-filled eyes-- accompanied by a final yell.    

It lodged deep in the faux monster's brain, and I ordered it to writhe in agony. Ayroix never wasted a second. He grabbed his axe and hacked away, continuing for five solid minutes until the clone was a puddle of watery blood.    

After one final breath, my clone ceased to exist.    

And Ayroix had earned the [Chimera Slayer] title because, for all intents and purposes, my clone was a monster hated by the known world. [Status Cloak] had registered it as such so that [Detect Chimerism] would impart a positive response if it had been used.    

Gregory Atrix chose to hide in his basement’s panic room, but Verdant has him in chains as of twenty seconds ago. My lord, our plan was a resounding success. Everything you wish to accomplish has been achieved. Once you assimilate the corpses at Tiran’s Crest, you’ll have enough life force to cleanse Lady Sekh’s curse. Breaking it is not yet possible.  

She’s finally within my grasp, huh? That’s amazing. Tris, can you prepare a report for Gretchen and the others?  

I’ll work on it at once, my lord! I cannot wait to welcome you back! However.. Your tone concerns me. Why do you still look sad? Please, tell me what’s wrong.  

I sighed and looked at the stars…    

“When I look at people, I don’t categorize them into allies or enemies… I only see substance to make me stronger. I’ve slit throats, I’m assassinated, I’ve poisoned… I’ve killed…so, so many. And all I think about is…nothing. I’m so numb to death. No—if anything, I find my heart growing with potential eagerness because… it’s strength… When I truly realized I had a chance to organize something like this... I figured it would happen sooner or later…but...   

“I’m already a monster at heart, huh? Drove died. I wanted to drink with him. But I don’t feel anything. He was a pawn. He was someone that played the role I had given him. That’s it. That’s the extent of his life from my point of view because…I didn’t know more than his name. Ayroix… His destiny was manufactured nonsense fit to serve a higher power… He probably saw Cid as a father figure, but he was nothing but biomass—a servant whose only role was to die to force Ayroix to grow as a person.”   

I found myself smiling.   

“If I need to be a monster to achieve my ultimate goals, that’s what I'll become. Tris, I’m sorry for worrying you. I promise I’m fine. Just chalk it up to a weird period of emotional instability, I guess.”  

I understand.     

“I need to find a suitable healer or powerful elixir to give Sekh when Surtr breaks her coffin. That shouldn’t be that difficult.” Tris agreed with me and said I could leverage my Vredi name to solve the final issue preventing me from wrapping my arms around her.    

Verdant emerged into the courtyard, and she dragged Gregory Atrix by the shackles clasped around his wrists and legs. She tossed him to the ground near Ayroix, who held the lifeless Cid’s hand.    

“Was it worth it?” he asked. Gregory remained quiet. No, he couldn’t speak. His jaw was fractured and misaligned. Opening his mouth would probably inflict a non-trivial amount of pain for someone who had never received such brutality.    

I thought about flying in but decided against it.    

This wasn’t my show. I directed and produced it, but Ayroix was the star. The spotlight was his. Lysander knew that and remained silent and stood behind the young lord.   

“You caused this. This was your fault. Why couldn’t you have been a better man? Why did you have to hide me away? Why did you kill my real—my true father? The one who cared so much about me? You even resorted to hiring a blasphemous chimera to assist you in regaining control over the city. But what did that bring you, Gregory? Look around. The city is in ruins. Smoke fills the skies. I don’t know how many perished because you couldn’t have been the father you needed to be. But I won’t be like you. Cid... Verdant... The High Elf of Liberation... Lysander... The Citrine Reapers... Drove... Bart... Bertold... Beatrice... You surrounded yourself with enemies, but I have allies. I have friends. General Blackthorn is a good man. He loves this city. You should’ve listened to him, not Thornbrook or Darkfeather.”  

Beatrice?   

She is a woman who shares a sense of affection towards Ayroix that goes back four years. They shared a bed for the first time two nights ago. Bart and Bertold are her younger brothers. They look up to Ayroix as a role model and wish him to be their brother-in-law.     

Did they survive?   

Yes, but not unharmed. The worst injury is a sprained ankle from tripping in the safe room.  

I Guess Ayroix had a life before I intervened. Everyone did, right? And I uprooted it all.  

Little Gregory reacted when he heard about the chimera but couldn't refute Ayroix's claims. Even if he did... Would Ayroix believe his father?  

I didn't think so.  

“The Vestige? You can keep it. You can destroy it. I don’t care about that shit. I never did, either. I want peace. Is that so hard to ask for? But I won’t be like you. I’ll never be like you. I’ll be someone honorable... I’ll embody the sentiments Cid imparted within me. And I’ll be a better father. I’ll be everything you weren’t. I’ll do what you couldn’t.”   

Ayroix kicked Gregory to the ground. The fear in the fool’s eyes was palpable when that blood-stained axe was raised.   

He brought it down, severing Gregory’s head...   

It marked the end of this fight.    

New Title: [Liberator’s Legacy]   

My newest title’s description stated that those who obtained it were acknowledged for their pivotal role in shaping a new era and ensuring the lasting impact of the revolution. It signified their contribution to creating a better future, standing as a testament to their courage and determination.  

But...  

Was it really that?  

Did that definition really define me? 

---

After Gregory perished, I flew to Tiran’s crest in record time to find it teeming with corpses. Tris had marked the few survivors fighting to the bitter end. Luckily, they were mostly grouped up near the recon camp located in the middle, so I didn’t have to traverse the 200-mile stretch.    

My new 1911 got some use here. And it was only now I realized that I could’ve unlocked it when I acquired the Beretta 92FS because I still had a few in my storage. Glog, Metalborn Prince of Goblins-- the boss of the mines near Ria, dropped the gun as its rare drop. That little fact skipped Tris’s, but we were focused on the rebellion, first and foremost. It fit perfectly in my hand. [Active Reload] was extremely useful. I put four shots center mass to a Lizardfolk wielding a rapier and a shield, used the skill, grabbed the phantom magazine, and reloaded, thereby regaining 30% of the soul energy I spent, which allowed me to finish off the foe he fought.     

The bullets we had made were still stronger, shot for shot.    

The overwhelming euphoria that came with assimilating so much at once couldn’t be described. It felt like I was melting from an overindulgence of warmth that radiated from my stomach. In total, I acquired over 18,000 SP and achieved Lv. 81 since arriving in Atrix. The SP could be saved, though. Better to have it for a rainy day or when I'm in a tough bind.  

And I've confirmed it! My lord, it is now possible to cast out the curse currently inhabiting Lady Sekh's soul! The first step is complete! 

It's been a long time coming. 

Yes, it has, my lord. I cannot wait to properly greet her! Ah, I must prepare. I must rehearse! I only get one chance to make a proper introduction! 

It was cute hearing my Fragment of Wisdom act so excited and happy. 

And my primary goal was achieved. I just needed to find a healer for Sekh.  That would be easier than acquiring the necessary life force, but by no means would it be a walk in the park. Her wounds were egregious. Anything less than the best wouldn't work, so as much as I wanted to rush... 

I couldn't.  

Instead of setting off for Plymoise, I returned to Atrix. The rest of the day was spent calculating damages and determining how many had died. After that, General Blackthorn, Ayroix, Lysander, Mikel, and Verdant discussed how to proceed. I sat with them at the dining table in Gregory’s mansion to offer my input here and there, but my work was over.     

Tris identified a few stragglers scheming in secret to assassinate Ayroix—a rebellion would always have sinister backstabbers at the 11th hour, but a clone dispatched them without Ayroix being aware.    

At its core, Atrix was a beautiful city-state. Its fields were lush and green, and the farming land was almost second to none. When it came to food, they were set. Supplies, on the other hand, were a different story. The precious metal resources in the mine-like dungeons settled throughout the city were almost exclusively used for the Atrixian military. It would take time for the dungeon to respawn the ore, but guess what?   

Plymoise had many mines, although they were difficult for the average adventurer and hard to get to. Perhaps if Plymoise had time to recover from suddenly losing their largest trading partner, they could eventually become self-sufficient, but they didn’t have that luxury until now.    

Therefore, it was only logical for Atrix and Plymoise to unite in unity and peace and trade food and raw resources. Through Tris, I dictated the basic terms of the agreement after she requested an emergency audience with Gretchen and her advisors to hash out the initial details. It was enough for her to send Captain Morgan, a unit of soldiers, wagons filled with supplies, and craftsmen to help repair the city.     

I didn’t want to let everyone know I spoke via Tris, so I just told Verdant and the rest that I telepathically communicated with Surtr, who relayed what I said to Gretchen and the others.     

I was annoyed at how slow these talks were going, so I asked Tris to develop a suitable plan Ayroix could build from. She considered everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, looked at how many were alive, the overall levels of injuries, the first draft of the agreement with Plymoise, and spent twenty minutes producing the outline needed.     

Four copies later, I handed out the folders.    

“This is...incredible... It’s so specific...down to what even the women and children should do...” Ayroix was in disbelief.     

“I said I wasn’t going to help, but I can’t help myself,” I said, partly lying. “Peace is what I desire, and I won’t force you to use those plans. You’re the new leader of Atrix, not me. However, if you follow it, use it as a basis to build from.”    

“R--Right!”    

“I’m more and more astounded, Mila,” said Blackthorn. He found it difficult to look at my face because my face and voice had been disguised every time I had met him. He couldn’t imagine a High Elf was behind it all.     

Ayroix, Blackthorn, and Verdant left the mansion to follow Tris’s meticulous instructions. It detailed sleeping and work schedules, the optimal meal plans, the best way to reintroduce the nobility into the city, and a budget. Ayroix had money saved away. It wasn’t enough to handle everything at once, but there was enough to last the city-state for a few months. By then, hopefully, they’d be self-sufficient. If not, Plymoise promised to help until they were on their feet.    

But it wasn’t a charity case. Plymoise had demands. They desired a unity of friendship—a hard-coded defensive agreement and a trade pact to ensure prosperity.   

Lysander and Mikel discussed how the Citrine Reapers would evolve from here. I told them they could take time. The city needed to come first, and Mikel should’ve spent more time with his son. At least a few weeks to make up for the lost opportunity.    

Rykla was. Her sister hadn’t left her arms since she returned.    

The reunions were...pleasant to watch. They made my heart feel fuzzy and warm... But also jealous...because I was missing Sekh more than ever...   

But the day I’d hold her in my arms again...  

That day was fast approaching. It wouldn't be here today, tomorrow, or even by the end of next week, but soon... 

Soon... 

Soon... 

---

The following night...   

A celebration was thrown at the bar where I had met Ayroix. The leading man himself, Blackthorn, Lysander, Verdant, her spies, Beatrice, her brothers, and a few other vital rebellion members were present. The other reapers focused on making up for lost time with their family and couldn’t come. 

Family came first. If they showed up, I’d be liable to smack knock some sense into them.  

The booze came from Gregory’s personal collection.    

I offered the music via my flute.  

Beatrice was a woman with orange eyes and a thick ponytail. She had a ‘girl next door’ vibe, and her brothers were a few years younger than Erin. Blackthorn’s family was at their estate. No doubt they would be traumatized for a while even though they were totally safe.   

Perhaps I should’ve offered them asylum in Plymoise, but Blackthorn wouldn’t have gone for it.    

He was a thoughtful, deep guy when you took a chance to share a drink with him. He had wisdom in spades and often spoke of the past with melancholy eyes.    

He didn’t want to retire. He wanted to continue fighting for Atrix until his dying breath. But he also wanted to spend time with his family. He didn’t have much left other than them. That incident in the past removed any chances of him having genuine friendships with anyone because he was always looked down upon.    

But he wasn’t horrible.  

He had honor.   

I did hope happiness was in his future.    

At some point, someone brought up how many drinks I had before the rebellion started, which was a big deal because High Elves were considered lightweights. Most only needed a sip of alcohol before they were three sheets to the wind, dead drunk.   

But not me.    

I felt confident and dared anyone to outdrink me.    

And boy, did they try.    

The alcohol we drank wasn’t weak. It was strong. It left a fire in your throat when you swallowed. But to me?   

It was like water. I burned my blood hot and scorched the alcoholic contents a second after I swallowed. Really, it was like nothing reached my stomach because even the steam vaporized a millisecond later.    

One by one, the dwarves who lined up were defeated. Next came a troll. His orange tusks brightly blushed when I chugged a new bottle, but he lost the battle and passed out.    

Blackthorn tried his hand, but he bowed out after four shots.   

“Come on! Is there anyone who can take me on?! The High Elf of Liberation?! I do not only assist those in freeing themselves from tyranny,” I proclaimed, my voice ringing out amidst the raucous cheers of the tavern. “Even the alluring kiss of alcohol cannot keep me down!”   

I grabbed a pint of mead and raised it high, receiving a chorus of cheers. People had watched my drinking matches intently and were taking bets on the side.    

It really was nice to see the people having fun. Every seat was filled. And at this rate, Gregory’s stockpile of booze would probably run out before the night was over.    

At some point, people began singing. We sat and listened to the tales of the heroic adventure of a ruler named Ayroix...   

But I never expected...   

“HERE HERE, LADS! LET’S SING IT FOR OUR HERO!!!!” A drunken dwarf with an orange beard raised his tankard, spitting and slurring his words.    

 

In the land of Atrix, a story we'll share,    

Of a High Elf named Lyudmila, with valor rare.    

With her fiery spirit and heart full of grace,    

She led the revolution, in this perilous place.    

    

Oh, Lyudmila, a warrior so bold,    

With her blade and her magic, she fought for our stronghold.    

She rallied the people, against the tyrant's might,    

A beacon of hope, shining in darkest night.    

    

Through battles she strode, with courage so true,    

Lyudmila inspired us, in all that she'd do.    

Her name will be honored, throughout the land,    

A symbol of bravery, forever at hand.    

    

Oh, Lyudmila, a warrior so bold,    

With her weapon and her magic, she fought for our stronghold.  

She rallied the people, against the tyrant's might,    

A beacon of hope, shining in darkest night.    

    

So let's raise our voices, in a toast of cheer,    

To Lyudmila's bravery, that we hold dear.    

In songs and in tales, her legend shall remain,    

Lyudmila, a hero without refrain.   

 

“CHEERS!!!”   

Tris knew this would happen and remained silent. Atrix didn’t have much to give me. Ayroix and the others even less.  

But this...   

I wondered why they were so insistent on returning to the bar.  

I...   

I couldn’t help but be shocked. The people considered me a hero. To them, I was their savior—the link that prevented outright war from breaking out. Had I not been here, and the assault against Plymoise was carried out, the number of dead would’ve been 4 or 5x higher.    

But...  

To me...  

I... I didn’t...  

Verdant hugged me close and cried tears of happiness. Ayroix put his arm around my shoulder and raised another toast. Blackthorn and Lysander raised their glasses like gentlemen.  

One by one, the children approached and gave me handmade straw dolls of myself. Beatrice and her brothers gifted me a beautiful shell that had been in their family for a few years. They came from a poor background.  

For the first time, I felt like I had missed a lot. If I had shown myself earlier, I could’ve learned more. My mind quickly processed a hypothetical future in which I was there—in person—every step of the way. Maybe then... I wouldn’t have thought of...everyone here as...  

But maybe not. Perhaps remaining distant was the better choice. Tris suggested developing a deepening friendship could’ve altered my thoughts about the plan. And should the worst occur?  

I wouldn’t have the needed life force.   

Sekh was just so much more important than everyone here. If I kept that tidbit to myself, I didn’t have to worry about hurting feelings.  

The rest of the evening played out differently than what I had expected.    

And I didn’t know what to feel. 

---

I’m coming home, Tris. It should take me a few hours at full speed.  

I stood atop the city walls the following dusk, looking over my shoulder at the reconstruction efforts that never stopped for longer than an hour for the shift change. I’d wanted to leave earlier in the day, but the events of last night...   

It made me want to spend a couple more hours here—I wanted to ensure I’d done all I could before leaving them alone. I knew Captain Morgan, the supplies, and the craftsmen were scheduled to arrive the following morning, so it would’ve been fine if I left earlier. 

I’ll be awaiting your return, my lord. Everyone is excited to welcome you back! 

I played a song to summon my wings, and I took to the skies, happy that my biomass was draining so slowly the yellow resource bar didn’t look like it was decreasing. At some point? I wouldn’t have to worry about it getting low at all.  

Surtr was right. A chimera’s growth was slow at the beginning, but it rapidly snowballed. Soon? I’d be a force to be reckoned with...