It took time for the Hurricane's vengeful butchery to die down.

When their bloodlust had finally been sated, they belatedly remembered that there might be survivors trapped underneath the ruins of Castle Helmund. It was half the reason they'd even come here.

The rebels immediately got to work. Healers patched up anyone who was still injured, while warriors used mana to enhance their bodies and move huge pieces of rubble. It was slow going, as none of them were experts at large-scale excavating, and the clash with Duke Helmund had sapped their mana reserves.

Rather than waste time and energy on fumbling around aimlessly, they asked Simon to point them in the right direction. To his surprise, Identify managed to locate a spot with several buried survivors – confirmed to be family of the Hurricane. He had no idea how they'd lasted this long, as oxygen deprivation alone should have consigned them to a protracted, miserable death, but the system couldn't lie.

His discovery lit a fire under the rebels, pushing them to dig with an even greater sense of desperation than when they'd been fighting Duke Helmund. There was no doubt as to what all of them were thinking. 'What if it's *my* family trapped there? What if my loved ones are safe?'

False hope was crueler than no hope at all. One or two rebels would win the lottery, the ecstatic recipients of a miracle. The rest of the Hurricane would be left to drown in their sorrow, wishing they'd never allowed themselves to believe in the first place.

In preparation for that moment, Simon assisted with the excavation effort, putting his latent Strength to good use. Best to build up some last-minute goodwill before everyone remembered that they despised him.

Fortunately, that was when Victoria arrived with unexpected reinforcements. She was leading a group of musclebound men armed with shovels and pickaxes, her smug, confident grin a stark contrast to their expressions of terrified regret. Apparently, she'd rounded up a band of laborers by invoking an arcane magic equal to any Skill – deep pocketbooks.

Their help soon proved to be invaluable. Unlike the Hurricane, they were professionals at this sort of thing, and they still had plenty of mana to spare. The tense atmosphere smothering the rebels lightened by a fraction, their faces lighting up with reinvigorated optimism.

Victoria stood with her hands on her hips, observing their progress like the cat who'd caught the canary. When Marlene asked how she'd gotten here so quickly, the Lady Artificer replied, in a matter-of-fact tone: "I began hunting for able-bodied workers after you departed from my manse." She'd bet on Simon and the Hurricane winning, making no attempt to flee the city.

Some people would have chalked that up to pragmatism. Victoria couldn't have escaped Helmund's ire even if she'd made a beeline for the closest Waystation. And in the event that she somehow did escape the capital city with her neck intact, she still would've needed to go into hiding, her home and fortune abandoned. It made sense to go all-in on the rebellion succeeding when that was her only real option left.

But the look on her face spoke otherwise. Although she tried to downplay it, she was inwardly overjoyed that many of them were still alive. She viewed them as precious comrades, and they felt the same in turn.

If I'd found a different way to kill Duke Helmund, Simon thought, would I be sharing that feeling alongside them? Did I sacrifice my one chance at camaraderie with people who were just starting to tolerate me?

Do I even have any right to wonder 'what if' when I've made them sacrifice so much more?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to dispel the noxious fog clouding his mind. Stop. Job's not over – you can't afford to get into a funk. Shake it off.

Easier said than done when Helmund's final words kept playing in his head on repeat.

To distract himself, he opened his Character Sheet.

Simon Class: Demonic Conqueror Sub-Class: Schemer Attributes: Transmigrator, Fell-Symbiosis Level: 75 HP: 820 / 820 MP: 7 / 910 Strength: 51 Dexterity: 106 Vitality: 82 Intelligence: 91 Unspent Points: 40

Thirty-three Levels gained in one fight, he thought. I doubt I'm ever breaking that record. Who in Valtia even comes close to Duke Helmund's strength? Kirkelas the Conqueror? The Demon Queen of Ashora? How many Levels would they give me if I'm already this high-Level myself?

Perhaps he would find out one day.

Frowning slightly, he lamented how lopsided his stat distribution had become. The system rewarded stat increases based on which ones did the most heavy lifting, and Strength hadn't contributed nearly as much in the battle against Duke Helmund.

Now, he could sink all of his Unspent Points into Strength to prevent it from falling behind...but if he was being honest with himself, it was overall his least-important stat regardless. He hadn't taken any Class Advancement with offensive physical abilities, and his fighting style generally revolved around ranged hit-and-run tactics while searching for an opening.

Triage system. Strength was still useful, and he should give it some support, but it would forever languish as a distant fourth, ruining any semblance of balance in his stat spread.

Oh, the tragedy.

After several minutes of contemplation, Simon promptly distributed his points. No reason to delay a power boost when the Hurricane would likely backstab him before sunset.

Strength: 51 → 60 Dexterity: 106 → 110 Vitality: 82 → 100 Intelligence: 91 → 100

HP: 1000 / 1000 MP: 98 / 1000

You could never have enough Vitality. Despite having spent just a single month in Valtia, he'd already dropped to double-digit HP a distressingly large number of times.

I seriously need to hire a permanent healer-on-demand. Transmigrator's Body is a lifesaver if I have time to rest, but somehow I don't think Duke Helmund would've let me take an eight-hour siesta in the middle of our fight.

You could never have enough Intelligence, either. Simon's combat efficacy tended to nosedive when he ran out of MP. On that note, he should really try to develop a new Channel Essence spell, bolster his repertoire of abilities.

Not that he had any idea how to develop new spells, but inspiration would probably strike eventually.

Strength got some points too – and they weren't pity points. Cyna had demonstrated its utility when she withstood Helmund's aura and bashed through his mana-shields. Its time to shine would come.

The last four Unspent Points went into Dexterity. Partly because being able to dodge an endless stream of attacks had kept him alive, but mostly because it made his stat spread look aesthetically pleasing. Every number ended in 0...

Perfect.

Additionally, he also had his new Class Advancement to consider. Simon skimmed through the list of choices as he continued hauling debris alongside the Hurricane.

One option stuck out to him immediately, yet he held off on selecting it. Class Advancements required a bit more forethought than stat increases. He would rather do a deep dive of the list, closely scrutinizing each individual ability, theorycrafting potential Skill synergy, making plans for the future – and that was tough to do when his mind was being pulled in so many different directions.

Unfortunately, that left him without any more distractions to occupy his thoughts. Duke Helmund's last words came roaring back, refusing to to be ignored.

'The final curtain was falling anyway.' There hadn't been enough left of Helmund's face to gauge his expression by then, but his tone of voice had sounded bitterly resigned. Does that mean Valtia's apocalypse happens with or without him? It almost seemed like...

He was powerless to stop it.

Voice-In-The-Sky had confirmed that killing Helmund was the right call, and Simon would've put that on his bucket list even without an endorsement from a literal deity. Everything he'd seen and heard made it absolutely clear that the Duke needed to go – and the sooner, the better.

However, Simon had never actually learned what caused such a cataclysmic, world-shaking event that it wiped out all life in Valtia. Helmund had been monstrously powerful, yet he wasn't so strong that he could snap his fingers and rain down mana-bolts across the land like a meteor shower.

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The Voice approved of me assassinating him, though, so he has to be related to the apocalypse in some fashion. But then why did Helmund say 'anyway'? Did he set something in motion that he couldn't take back?

And what the hell is a Clause of Remittance? It sounds like something from a Contract, but if so, who did he sign a Contract *with*?

There were no answers forthcoming. Simon could make as many theories as he wanted – none of which filled him with hope – but the fact of the matter was that he lacked definitive evidence. He wouldn't even know where to start looking for it.

Not when the architect behind everything took his secrets to the grave.

As he helped move stacks of rubble, Simon came to another lovely realization. According to Identify, the survivors they were digging up had been confined to Castle Helmund. Which meant being in a prison. Near other prisoners.

How many corpses of dead family members were the Hurricane going to discover in just a few minutes?

Simon's throat closed up. Setting down his cargo, he swept his gaze across the devastated landscape, repeatedly casting Identify on separate chunks of stone. Maybe...maybe there's more. People I missed.

Name: Stone (Castle Ruins) Description: A large, weighty, broken-off fragment of Duke Helmund's castle. There are no survivors beneath.

Identify.

Name: Stone (Castle Ruins) Description: A large, weighty, broken-off fragment of Duke Helmund's castle. There are six corpses located far beneath. No survivors.

He grit his teeth. Identify.

Name: Stone (Castle Ruins) Description: A large, weighty, broken-off fragment of Duke Helmund's castle. There are seventeen corpses located far beneath. No survivors.

Identify. Identify. Identify, Identify, Identi–

An ice pick stabbed through his brain.

Simon's first impression was that the Hurricane had attacked him – taken advantage of his lapse in concentration to jab a sword into his skull. Fair play, considering he'd abused their trust to enact a plan right under their noses.

Then the pain cleared, and he turned to see everyone staring at him with confusion. He reached up to brush the top of his head, finding no tangible wound or injury.

Simon turned back around. Hesitating, he pushed past his reservations to cast Identify on the exact same piece of stone as before.

Name: Stone (Castle Ruins) Description: A large, weighty, broken-off fragment of Duke Helmund's castle.

His relief didn't last long. A faint chill slithered up his spine; the first sign of dread beginning to form.

Why isn't the Description telling me that there are no survivors?

Simon walked over, his steps feeling heavier than the debris he'd been hauling. He lifted up the Stone he'd just Identified and gingerly set it to the side. More rubble waited underneath.

Iden–

Two ice picks, both piercing down. Their ephemeral tips met at the base of his neck, scraping his spine, nearly causing him to trip as he briefly lost control of his motor functions.

Suppressing a bout of panic, he checked his Character Sheet.

HP: 996 / 1000

It actually hurt me, he thought, distantly. The pain was severely exaggerated, as he'd only received four points of damage, but it was still damage. Identify had physically wounded him.

And now, when he used it again on that very same spot...

Name: Stone (Castle Ruins) Description: A large, weighty, broken-off fragment of Duke Helmund's castle.

The Skill pretended that all was as it should be.

There was no hesitation this time as Simon tore into the ground, flinging aside huge chunks of stone and debris. He moved like a man possessed, using his Shapeshifted claws to dig faster, burrowing as quickly as he could.

Soon, he had a hole five feet tall and wide. He stopped, rallied his composure, breathed in, breathed out, looked down – and opened Pandora's Box.

Id–

Ten ice picks.

Simon momentarily blacked out. He awoke hunched over on his knees, arms propping him up, hands trembling for support. It took him a couple seconds to notice that Kat was at his side, trying to speak with him.

"What happened?" Her voice sounded like she was underwater, although it was clearing up as time passed. "Are you okay?"

He pointed at the ground. "Something's there. Down below. My abilities are malfunctioning. Hurts more as I get closer."

"Like when you examined the hidden staircase at the Harvester repository?"

"Worse than that. Much worse."

No response came. Simon glanced over, seeing his weary expression reflected back in her shocked gaze. "Your nose," Katarina whispered, "it's...bleeding."

Hmm? He touched his fingertips to his face, feeling blood under his nostrils. Not trickles – twin streams running straight down, seeping into his lips and mouth, tasting of iron.

What's wrong with Transmigrator's Body? I'm not supposed to...

Character Sheet.

HP: 956 / 1000

Almost fifty points of damage, solely from using Identify.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. Bastian, Cyna, Marlene, and a few dozen other rebels were staring at him like he'd lost his marbles. Admittedly, the sight of him kneeling in a self-made hole with blood covering his face probably wasn't doing his reputation any favors.

This is the most vulnerable they've ever seen me, Simon noted. At least from their perspective. They'd witnessed his HP drop much lower than this, including injuries that should've rendered him an invalid, but Transmigrator's Body had always held his body together and staunched his bleeding. Could entice them to betray me – shoot their shot when I'm 'weak'.

Some of the rebels appeared to be mulling it over. Before any of them could make a decision they would regret, Bastian spoke up first. "What are you searching for, Simon?" he asked.

The transmigrator considered several potential lies that would help defuse the situation...then with a mental shrug, opted for the truth. "I don't know. Just that it's important. My tracking magic can malfunction when used on certain people, objects, or areas. Usually isn't a good sign."

"And that's why you split off from the group, ignored our voices calling out to you, started digging as if your life depended on it, then bled profusely while your consciousness slipped away?"

"Yes." Simon didn't waste time justifying his actions. That encroaching sense of dread in him had only grown stronger – as far as he was concerned, everything he'd done was warranted. "Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to it."

Bastian paused, glancing behind his shoulder. Nodding once, he promptly jumped into the hole and hefted an oversized rock onto his shoulder. "My mana reserves are waning, but I'll offer you whatever aid I can."

"You'll offer what?" Marlene blurted out. Her poker face and her tone of authoritative leadership both cracked, revealing a woman barely able to comprehend what she was watching. "We haven't even finished–"

"If there's one thing I've learned about Simon, it's that he doesn't do anything by halves." Bastian tossed his rock out of the hole, then picked up another, grunting with exertion. "Apologies to the rest of our comrades, but they are well on their way to unearthing the survivors. My efforts are best spent here."

He peered over at the Hurricane. "When a Demon who confronted two Helmunds without blinking is suddenly thrown into a fit of panic...I wouldn't dismiss his fears so readily."

None of the rebels knew what to say to that.

Cyna bulldozed through the awkward silence by nonchalantly hopping down into the hole. She grabbed and hurled a small boulder with ease, clapping Bastian on the shoulder before getting back to work. More people started joining in after that, obviously conflicted yet unwilling to turn away, their faces etched into masks of grim determination.

It was a bittersweet victory. Simon could take solace in how – if nothing else – the Hurricane still respected his competency. They wouldn't brush off his concerns as baseless paranoia.

Except he wished it was paranoia.

He didn't want to be right this time.

Please let me be wrong.

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