What Will Be | Book 2 | Chapter 29

Author's Note: Thank you all for your continued support. It means the world to me. I had another idea for a book this week. My ADHD is loving it, I can bounce between other series, doing a bit here and there as whim and muse strike, while still focusing on What Will Be. I will share a quick pitch for the most recent pair so you have an idea of the various coals I have in the fire:

First: Only surviving member of a 'hero's party' kind of situation writes a book about the adventure and very much exaggerates their capabilities and involvement in the whole thing. Years later, they are out of money and decide to mentor a young adventuring party, riding their fame for the pay check. When disaster strikes and the the group is [TBD, trapped in a super dangerous dungeon or something, probably] all eyes turn to our protagonist to save the day. Will he be able to lie his way out of this one?

Second: System Apocalypse slice-of-life from the perspective of a pair of 'deities' sponsoring humans trying to survive the shit show. My early notes have it being Mother Earth and Father Time. Their banter and squabbles with multiversal gods will occasionally be undercut by updates from their chosen humans who only get to see their professional sides.

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Rumination. Broadly speaking, the word refers to deep and considered thought. I once briefly dated a woman studying psychology in university who shared with me a different definition. Rumination, a cycle of negative feelings focused on cause as consequence as opposed to problem solving.  

The first definition sounds rather scholarly, something to aspire to, even. The second sounds closer to a diagnosis. 

Reflections of loss regularly intruded on my thoughts, a topic ripe for rumination. I often told myself that such thoughts were deep and considered, strictly the fruits of the first definition. I also often lied to myself. 

Dawn’s light filtered in through my bedroom window, rousing me from a sleep that was shorter than I needed but longer than I could have hoped for. When I was younger, there were some mornings I would be graced with a few precious moments, right before the waking world reasserted itself. In those moments, I’d forget who I was just long enough to believe that my existence as Will was but an elaborate dream. I’d grow briefly excited to share it with the woman I loved, knowing I’d have to try and hold the memory while I waited for her to wake up. 

Then my eyes would flicker open and I’d be reminded of my loss.  

I didn’t have those moments anymore. Whatever small, subconscious hope I’d clung to for years quietly passed on one day and that was the end of it. Sometimes I missed the cruelty of it all, for there was a comfort to be found in those precious seconds. Now, they were just another loss. 

Much of the previous day remained a blur to me, shrouded in a fog I knew I could banish with a flex of mana but chose not to. I remembered enough. I knew there was something about the situation that bothered me. Even so, I couldn't allow myself more than a few moments before I leaned on Perseverance to see me through the outing, a sort of emotional triage. 

I watched Cruz remove the bralo’s head; the fangs and venom glands were valuable but, like Lionel, Cruz opted not to perform the delicate extraction himself. The rest of the corpse was left to the elements. There was no real risk of the carcass luring in anything from the First Ring unless they’d already wandered into the fringes, in which case they’d just be walking back into Cruz’s traps. 

True to his word, Cruz told me about his Core Skill: Perception [Tactile, Vibrations]. At the time, I accepted the information with a nod. It put many of his feats into context. Instead of pressing him for more information, though, I just returned to my thoughts, replaying the brralo’s slaughter over and over. 

What a wasted opportunity, I lamented. I was staring at the ceiling. Fudge was curled up at the foot of my bed, still sound asleep. He’d stayed up with me the night before, unable to rest until I finally found some peace in sleep’s embrace. The rest of the day had been a wash. When we returned to the manor I excused myself and hadn’t left my room since. Another waste… 

I’d spent enough time ruminating. It was time to ruminate. I allowed myself a small smile at the confusing couple of sentences, a small bit of kindness before I was necessarily harsh on myself. What was it exactly that bothered me? 

I’d taken a life. It was the life of an animal, but I’d taken it all the same, a brutal execution. At first, I thought maybe that it was my connection to Fudge that inspired the reaction. The depth and complexity of life, of self, that I felt from Fudge through the Tamer bond made it impossible to value one life more than another on an intrinsic level. Any value had to come from me, the individual. 

If that was the issue, though, then Lionel’s execution of the tehon would have had a more visceral effect on me than it did. 

I mean, fuck, if it was some big appreciation for the sanctity of life that motivated me I would have stopped eating meat years ago. I raised an arm into the air above me, noting the ways light and shadow played along every slight shift or turn. It wasn’t quite the same without a ceiling light to cover, but the habit had somehow withstood the passage of time regardless. 

Beneath all the bullshit, I was okay with something dying to meet my needs- no, not even my needs. My wants; a want to eat, a want to protect those close to me, a want to fulfill a duty, whatever I wanted. The only difference was that, in the case of the bralo, I had to take responsibility for the death. Is it fucked up that I am not even counting the swatting of insects, here? 

I’d done that before, but it felt different. That was the crux of the matter, really. It all came down to how I felt about it, if I could stomach the responsibility. Any underlying principle was ultimately bullshit. My line would forever be in flux, and it was always up to me to decide if it was worth crossing.

So, what are my options? I could abandon The Slayers, get some quiet job in a small town and hide away from the harsh realities of the world. I’d keep to myself, keep conflict to a minimum, and hope that I’d somehow figure out a way back to my original world before dying of old age. Safe. Passive. It might even work. 

The alternative was to do whatever I needed to dig into the secrets of the world, to search for any hint, to use any trial or tribulation to push myself one step closer to what I want. The Slayers were my first step along that path, and it was a path where fighting for my life, or taking someone else’s, might become necessary. 

I looked at Fudge, watching a ripple of pearlescent colours cross over his fur in time with his breathing. I knew, in my heart, that I would choose his life over anyone else’s. I would kill to keep him safe. 

Would I kill for Her? I frowned. No, that was not right. That was dodging responsibility again. It was my selfish desire to see her again that drove me, a desire that spat in the face of life and death. Would I kill for that? That was ultimately what the second path might require of me. My hands clutched at the hem of my sheets, squeezing tightly as if I might somehow wring an answer from them. 

Yes.

The answer came without much fanfare, but carried a certainty with it that settled somewhere deep inside of me. I had no intention of retreating to some backwater. That meant I would kill again, it was inevitable. I let go of the sheets. Relief came first, followed by calm confidence. At the very least, I would perform my duties as a Slayer to the best of my ability and without hesitation. 

I lost a piece of privileged innocence that day, but it was a loss I wouldn’t ruminate any further. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

“You should have brought these two here sooner.” Isa lightly scolded me as she threw back her tankard, draining it of what smelled like ale. Next to her, Blanca wore an amused smile as she took a more modest sip of her own drink. 

“In that, we are in agreement.” I’d been blowing off spending time with Blanca and Alicia outside of the times penciled in for our lessons, but that was a mistake. The entire reason I reached out to the Duscall family to begin with was to secure possible aid and resources and I had been so caught up in my own Advancement that I neglected to nurture that relationship.  

Fortunately, it was my reflection on the nature of my goals that helped me reconsider my actions. I’d come to terms with the possibility that death and violence would lurk in my future, but taking steps to mitigate their necessity was also important.

Something, something, you catch more flies with $100 bills. 

We were sitting around one of the larger, corner tables. Alicia was to my left and, next to her, sat Rio. 

“Baba, did you know that Alicia normally lives in Sentrodah?” Rio had been bombarding my patient cousin with questions since we arrived. Alicia, angel that she was, had been happy to capitulate and consequently spare me the kid’s attention. 

“Is that so?” Isa had obviously heard my cousin say as much, but she was better with kids than I was. 

“It is! She said it is so big that it makes Dorbe look small.” 

“Actually, that is not what I said. What I said was-” 

“Alicia.” Blanca gently cut her student off, stretching out the last syllable of her name with a slight upward inflection. It was the signal that Alicia was about to make a slight social faux pas. I’d insisted it not be a concern when interacting with me, mostly because I found Alicia’s tendency to speak her mind amusing, but learning restraint was part of her curriculum.  

“Sorry. Never mind.” A brief flush coloured Alicia’s cheeks.

“Did I do something wrong?” Rio asked, his voice suddenly small. 

“You are fine, Rio,” Blannca was quick to reassure the boy. “Would you like something sweet? I smuggled in some sugar coated nuts I purchased from a delightful stall here in Dorbe.” She reached into the basket she’d brought with her on the outing and withdrew the jarred sweets. 

There was something delightful about Blanca’s tendency to solve her problems with sugar. I idly wondered if it came about as a way to offset the more terrifying aspects of her Skills. As it was, Rio looked to his grandmother for confirmation and was quick to receive a subtle nod of approval. 

“Yes please!” He chirped. 

“Alicia? Will?” Blanca offered. 

“Yes. Thank you.” Alicia was quick to recover from her embarrassment. 

“None for me, thank you.” After so long without the processed sugars of my first life, I’d developed a steady preference for savoury. I punctuated a point by grabbing a piece of dried sausage from the board Isa had prepared and popping it in my mouth. 

It wasn’t long before the conversation picked up again. With Alicia keeping Rio occupied, I was free to focus on Blanca and Isa. The topics remained largely on the surface level, which was appropriate for a first meeting, but it was the most fun I’d had visiting the place in a long time. I resolved to always include Alicia in my future visits. She was the perfect buffer. 

I’ll have to treat her to something nice as thanks.