NOVEL NEXT Chapter 21.3
The first step of Simon's plan was to make a purchase.
He had hoped to procure materials that would create toxic gas when mixed. While he wasn't so lucky as that, he did find a substitute that should prove almost as effective. His acquisition dipped into their ever-diminishing funds, but that was no great loss. They could always replenish their coffers by looting targets.
The second step was enacted by a change of clothing.
Simon put on his best out-of-town-merchant garb and attached a full, plainly-displayed money pouch to his waist. Then he strolled past the bandits' hideout with a gait of ingrained arrogance, as if so used to being untouchable that the thought he might be in danger had never crossed his mind. An enticing sound of jangling coins echoed faintly across the street.
It was like dangling raw meat before a starving lion. The bandit guarding the front entrance immediately turned to stare at Simon, her attention drawn by the siren call of an easy mark.
Thanks to details from Identify and Sin Scry, he knew what sort of conflict would unfold within her mind. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave her post. That was the rule – that was what kept their group safe. One watcher at all times.
Yet...what was the harm? It would hardly take long to rob a single hapless merchant. And if her cohorts didn't find out, she could hoard her ill-gotten gains without having to split the plunder twelve ways.
Simon had devised backup plans in case the lure failed. They weren't needed. The bandit readily abandoned her post to follow him down an empty alley, stalking him with catlike grace. She quietly pulled out a dagger, practically salivating at the riches soon to be hers.
Then Katarina leapt from the shadows and sliced her hamstrings. In the same motion, Simon whirled around and covered the woman's mouth with his shapeshifted Demon arm.
Her muffled screams went unheard as Fell Harvest robbed the robber of her essence.
Alert: A life has been Harvested!
The bandit didn't give enough EXP to bring Simon up to Level 19. Fortunately, she was still high-Level enough for Fell Harvest's effect to kick in.
3 stat points added to Unspent Points!
He'd tested the ability on wild rats earlier, wondering if he could repeatedly Harvest the rodents, transmute quantity into quality, but no dice there. To receive bonus stats, he had to drain an opponent of at least some worth.
When combined with what he'd gained from slaying Armand Calloway, that brought him up to 14 Unspent Points. He rapidly allocated everything, bringing his stat spread to:
Strength: 24 → 26
Dexterity: 28 → 30
Vitality: 25 → 27
Intelligence: 28 → 36
HP: 250 → 270
MP: 280 → 360
A fairly equal distribution – aside from favoring Intelligence. Channel Essence would be the star of tonight's show, so pumping up his maximum MP was crucial.
Simon and Katarina moved quickly after that. They hid the guard's body behind a pile of filth, hoping that she wouldn't be discovered until much later. Dusk was just beginning to fall, and they didn't have much time before the bandits' meeting ended and the group all went their separate ways for the night.
The hideout was unchanged from before. Due to its lack of windows, and the guard sneaking off unannounced, none inside had noticed that they were now missing their watchwoman.
Which could change at the drop of a hat, so Simon wasted no time opening his Inventory and producing the item they'd bought earlier – a very large jug of oil.
Although it wasn't truly oil. Valtia didn't exactly have a thriving fossil fuel industry. This foul-smelling substance was refined from a rare breed of greenhouse plant, and had thus cost him quite the pretty penny. Its use was primarily medicinal, or as a seasoning on food, for those with eccentric palates who craved a more exotic fare.
Still, for tonight's purposes, it was oil. Liquid, portable...
And from what Identify had revealed, flammable.
Simon dashed around the hideout's perimeter with a blur of speed. He spread the not-oil on each exterior wall, drawing connecting lines with the substance, making sure to splash some on top of the roof as well. In less than a minute, the voluminous jug had been depleted of its contents.
Lastly, he produced another item from Inventory – a tall, heavy, wooden cabinet. Between that and the jug, he'd needed to store most of his personal items back at the carriage. Inventory didn't have enough space to hold everything at once.
He placed the cabinet directly in front of the building's sole entrance. Its presence may not be necessary, as it was more a 'last line of defense' than an integral part of their strategy, but a bit of added caution never hurt.
With that, they were nearly ready. Just two spells left to cast. After that, whether they succeeded or failed would come down to factors outside their control.
Yet either way...it would make for one hell of a barbecue.
Shoulders itching, like claws scraping across his skin, Simon gestured towards Katarina. "Your turn."
She raised her hand, a burning-red Fireball contained within her palm. It was aimed at the bandits' hideout; specifically, a spot where the not-oil had been judiciously applied. Her eyes blazed with resolve as the Fireball swelled into a roaring conflagration, like a match that would light the burial pyre for–
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"Stop."
Katarina blinked. Slowly, she looked over at Simon. "Excuse me?"
"One second." The transmigrator ignored the incessant itching and stepped closer, carefully examining her features. He noted her taut muscles, dilated pupils, and slightly trembling arm.
"You're hesitating," he concluded.
"I'm about to set eleven people ablaze," she countered. "Even if they deserve it, what kind of maniac wouldn't feel a sliver of reluctance here?"
Simon shook his head. "No. This goes deeper. You're extremely uncomfortable right now – and trying to hide it from me."
Because you don't think you have the right to voice your misgivings, he realized. Not after you selfishly pushed me to target Uriel.
"What of it?" Katarina hissed. "You were the one who impressed the need for urgency on me! These bandits could discover us at any moment!"
"Then you'd better hurry up and explain what's bothering you."
If need be, they could abort the mission and try something else later. Operation Barbecue's surprise factor would be ruined if the bandits noticed the not-oil on their hideout, but it didn't matter. Simon could always devise a different plan, or just default to hunting them down individually.
Forcing the mission through wouldn't be worth leaving whatever issue was plaguing Kat to fester.
She paused, the Fireball still burning in her palm. "I..." With a sigh, she lowered her gaze. "Simon...how do you choose who should live and die? How do you determine the weight of a life?"
"Arbitrarily."
Kat sputtered, her eyes snapping back up to stare at him in disbelief. "Now that wasn't the answer I'd anticipated."
"Anything else would be a lie," Simon flatly stated. "And if people ever tell you different, if they say there's one true moral code to follow, then they're just dressing up their biases as an objective universal truth."
He pointed at the bandits' hideout. "You're thinking about Henry, right? Whether it's okay to kill him. From my viewpoint, the answer is yes. He took an innocent life. It wasn't strictly necessary, and there were other options, but he murdered them regardless."
"This city doesn't leave us with many options," Katarina mumbled. "Yet these bandits...do. To their allies, they offer food, coin, a semblance of stability. For someone with scarcely anything to his name, the temptation would be nigh-overpowering."
"Then why did you refuse them, while Henry accepted? Even if he didn't enjoy the act, even if he did it because he felt trapped, I see no reason why I should afford him mercy. Perhaps other people would sympathize, but I can't look past the lives he's already torn apart."
The transmigrator shrugged. "If he was just a few years younger, though – under the age of eighteen – I might be the one hesitating instead. To me, that'd be like punishing a misguided kid. Similar to how someone much older than us would probably say we're kids."
"You think that someone seventeen years old hasn't come of age?" Katarina asked, with evident confusion.
"That's how it is." Simon chuckled at the clashing social norms. "Arbitrary lines in the sand. Everyone just picks the values that they believe are most valid."
Like betraying slavers who'd saved his life. Or threatening a doctor into compliance, or maiming a sadistic Waystation guard. He felt no remorse over those decisions...but even if he had, he would never have denied that they were his.
"At the end of the day," Simon muttered, "we all need to make our own choices."
He let the words hang. Katarina looked at him, and then at the oil-soaked building. The Fireball was still held in her hand, casting a flickering gleam onto her eyes, like a lone candle attempting to illuminate a darkened, cavernous mausoleum.
Behind her gaze, Simon saw many considerations being weighed. Some light, some heavy – and some so crushing that they could smother a soul.
"Tell me just two things," she implored. "In your Sin Scry vision, who did Henry kill? Did he regret it?"
"Regret? No. Sure, he felt awful. Hated doing it. But not regret. He thought he was finally moving up in the world. Would've killed again if the bandits asked."
"...And...his victim?"
The transmigrator could only respond with total honesty. "A father. In front of his daughter. She screamed as he bled out on their kitchen floor."
A long moment went by as judgement was passed.
Without a word, Katarina silently approached the bandits' hideout. She extended her arm and walked slowly, dragging her Fireball along the side of the building. Her methodical pace ensured that every bit of not-oil within reach caught aflame.
Quieter than throwing an explosive projectile against the wall, Simon thought with approval. He waited off to the side as the Arcane Rogue committed an act of righteous arson. There was no excitement or catharsis contained within her gaze – just a surety that this was something needed to be done.
Her task completed, Katarina returned to Simon, standing beside him. She paused to observe her handiwork, the reflected gleam in her eyes shining brighter by the second as the fire spread further.
"Is this what it's like to be corrupted by a Demon?" she asked the flames. Her voice was laced with bitter mirth. "Hmm. I suppose there are worse fates."