Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

A deafening stillness choked the room as Simon's words gradually sank in.

"What do you mean?" Bastian asked, speaking for every Hurricane rebel who hadn't been aware of the Last Resort's true purpose. "We are to become Fell Beasts? People can become Fell Beasts?"

"That's the idea." Simon affected a casual demeanor, as if he was describing someone else's problem. "You didn't think it would be as simple as infusing yourself with stolen mana, did you? If it was that easy to make yourself as strong as Duke Helmund, plenty of two-bit nobles would've acquired some containers of their own and tried it by now."

Also, I tested that possibility myself. Earlier, he'd sent his Detached arm to sneak into the area where the mana-containers were stored, then used Fell Harvest on one.

The resulting increase in power was noticeable, but not that significant – and most important of all, temporary. Even if he Harvested the entire stash, the boost would have faded by the time they reached Helmund's castle.

Best to keep the mini-heist to himself for now. Mentioning that he'd deprived the Hurricane of a container's worth of mana would just complicate the message.

"We're dealing with an anomaly who has been allowed to gorge on energy for hundreds of years," Simon continued. "Helmund can't be stopped by conventional means. There's only one thing his lineage has shown a weakness to: Fell mana. Now, you could go hunting out in the wastelands, spend years attempting to capture Fell Beasts, maybe scrounge up a couple despite the losses you'd suffer along the way..."

The transmigrator raised his Shapeshifted arm. "Or you can just create some of your own."

In an ideal scenario, his revelation would have sparked intense outrage among the Hurricane. They would have deposed Marlene then and there, relegating her to the sidelines as they turned to him for answers on how to defeat Duke Helmund.

That didn't happen – but thankfully, neither did the most pessimistic scenario, where they responded to his reveal with interest. Mutate yourself into Fell Beasts by injecting yourself with stolen mana? Sign me up! He hadn't thought they would react in that manner, but you never knew with these diehard rebel types.

Instead, their response landed squarely in the middle. Rather than outraged or interested, they merely seemed baffled, as if they had yet to fully parse what Simon was saying. Many of the rebels were glancing between him and Marlene, their bewilderment deepening when she failed to deny his assertions.

For her part, the leader of the Hurricane appeared to be rapidly adjusting her train of thought. Whatever rousing speech she'd prepared to smooth over the reveal had already gone up in flames. Her glorified pep rally had abruptly devolved into a tribunal judging her decisions.

Simon so dearly loved the element of surprise.

"I don't understand," Bastian lied. He clearly understood just fine, but he was refusing to accept it, staring at Cyna in shock. "People can transform into Fell Beasts if they take in mana from another source? This is the first I've heard of it."

"Well, how did you think they were born?" Simon asked, legitimately curious.

"...Randomly coalescing into existence? Springing up from the ground like roots? It isn't a subject I ever gave much deliberation. Fell Beasts simply are, and Fell Beasts will continue to be."

"Not how it works. Everything has to have a starting point. If there aren't self-sustaining colonies of wild Beasts out in the wastelands – and I have yet to encounter any evidence of that – then it stands to reason that they're an offshoot of another form of life. And since humans are basically the only form of life left in Valtia, aside from livestock kept sequestered in walled cities, Fell Beasts must be related to humans."

All of which Identify had verified for him. Admittedly, it was easy to be certain of your deductions with the system in your corner.

Bastian shook his head. "I've still never heard of people losing their humanity in such horrid fashion. Duke Helmund confessed to taking the land's mana into himself, yet despicable as he may be, he has not turned into a mindless Beast."

Simon gave a flat stare. "But can you honestly tell me that he's still human?"

Silence was his answer.

"Duke Helmund has had a long time to refine the process of absorbing mana," Simon explained. "Even then, you can see how it's affecting his body. Piers probably would've looked just as grotesque after a couple more centuries of doping."

"Those are only two examples."

"Armand Calloway. A killer I met in Caelryn City. He haphazardly drained people's mana with a process that was very much not refined. When we fought, his body morphed into something resembling a walking corpse – pretty sure he was halfway to becoming a Fell Beast."

Bastian crossed his arms, gripping his coat sleeves tightly. "Then...what are you insinuating? That the Duke is creating Beasts by his own hand? To ensure that rural settlements stay dependent on him for safety, perhaps?"

"No." It wasn't an illogical conclusion to reach, but Identify had already ruled that out. "You were right about one thing: Fell Beasts spring up semi-randomly. Not everyone has the same reaction to external mana entering their bodies. For some, they aren't affected by slight amounts of it. Others are less fortunate. It's similar to how a rare few are driven mad by prophetic visions, although I couldn't say which group has it worse there."

Bastian flinched. "If people were mutating arbitrarily, reports would have spread of–"

"Transformed Beasts don't tend to leave witnesses. Helmund also suppresses news of it happening so that parallels aren't drawn to him – and word gets out anyway sometimes. Remember the incident Edward told us about back at the bar? Graverock village? A Fell Beast suddenly appeared right in the middle of town despite its perimeter of Warding Orbs. It came from within, not without."

Simon turned in a circle, sweeping his gaze around to meet as many people as he could. He saw expressions of revulsion, disgust, betrayal; indicators that he was making headway in the battle for public opinion.

"Maybe it's because of an Artifact gone wrong," he said. "Maybe it's from breathing in air laced with the barest hint of ambient mana. Maybe it's because of your own inborn mana, and one day, a switch just...flips. You won't even be given warning before your flesh starts to twist and churn."

He displayed his Shapeshifted arm once more. "Everyone has the potential to become a creature of the Fell. All that you are shall be wiped barren, hollowed out, replaced with an overwhelming thirst that can never be satiated. You will slaughter your friends and family to sup of their life essence, then spend the rest of your miserable existence wandering the wastelands for faint dregs of energy. Death would be a sweet release, but you no longer have the intellect to contemplate such measures."

Three seconds of horrified silence passed by. On the fourth, Simon pressed his attack. "Duke Helmund has found a way to imbibe vast quantities of stolen mana without completely turning himself into a slathering monster. But...what if there was a way to do the opposite? To trigger the process intentionally. You could have a small army of Fell Beasts marching on Helmund's doorstep."

"Demons as well, hopefully."

Marlene stepped forward, having finally found her voice. She projected an air of unruffled confidence, as if nothing Simon had mentioned was anything to fuss over. "It would be preferable for those who partake of the Last Resort to reach the end stage of their Fell evolution. We haven't perfected the process quite yet, but it is our belief that a fair number will become full-fledged Demons."

So that's how it's going to be? Simon mused. Lean into things, pretend what you're suggesting is totally reasonable? Not that she could play any other card, but he still had to admire the sheer audacity of it all.

"Is this why you were so quick to forge a Contract with me?" he asked. "Because you were already preparing to mutate the Hurricane into a pack of Demons? Allying with one must have seemed tame by comparison."

"That was part of it – although the Last Resort didn't become something I ever seriously considered until we met you. You serve as living proof that the concept holds merit."

Simon arched an eyebrow. "Me?"

Marlene nodded. "With your own hands, you confirmed that the Helmund lineage was susceptible to Fell mana. We had only theorized as much beforehand. And dubious as your loyalty may be, Simon, you have shown that you are capable of conducting himself like a human would. As Demons, our people would likely retain far more of their rationality than as Beasts."

"Oh, now you act like I'm a paragon of sanity."

"I said retain 'more' of their rationality. There will invariably be changes to our personalities, I have no doubt of that."

She put on a hollow grin. "Another sacrifice to pile onto all the others."

Simon whistled. "I either overestimated your intelligence or underestimated your desperation. Are you listening to yourself right now? You'll likely retain some of your rationality. Hopefully most of the Hurricane will turn into Demons...which means that even in a best-case scenario, some would become Beasts."

"Correct."

He snorted with bitter amusement. "Gotta ask – was it you or Victoria who initially proposed this idea? Who corrupted who first?"

"I have not been corrupted," Victoria seethed. The Artificer blinked, momentarily taken aback by her own outburst, then swiftly rallied her composure. "Marlene requested the assistance of the foremost mind in the Severed Isles. Granted, studying the deleterious effects of mana on the soul is outside my usual purview, but who else could have risen to the challenge? Over time, my interest shifted from idle curiosity to wholeheartedly believing in the endeavor."

So she stroked your ego and praised your results, all while feeding you lines about how you were helping to 'make a difference' or whatever. The cult leader classic.

"How does the transformation begin?" Simon queried. "Slap an Artifact on someone, then watch as their body is converted into a horrifying parody of their former self?"

"You make it sound so crude. We shall meld the land's mana with Fell essence extracted from a Beast, then–

"Wait, extracted from a Beast?" Katarina interrupted, the Arcane Rogue leaning closer. "Are you also keeping Fell Beasts in cages?"

"No." Victoria paused. "It's just the one. Safely confined within my basement, in case you were concerned about it breaking loose. Above all else, I am a consummate professional. I've been studying it for years without any incidents of collateral injury."

She tapped her chin, falling into thought. "I never did ascertain exactly why the Helmunds are vulnerable to Fell mana. As best I can surmise, it's similar to chemicals mixing that shouldn't be mixed. Ingesting the land's stolen mana into yourself is an act of incomplete self-defilement. Duke Helmund is constantly at the edge of becoming a Demon, and coming into contact with a true Fell being would cause his body's unstable balance of mana to rupture."

Simon widened his eyes, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. He couldn't have come up with a better way to make the Last Resort sound awful than 'self-defilement' if he'd tried. Marlene and Victoria weren't even remotely attempting to hide the details.

At that thought, a kernel of unease formed within his chest.

"Maybe I've warped your expectations of what Demons are like," Simon said, "but I don't recommend using me as the baseline standard for anything. My situation is extremely atypical."

If he wasn't a transmigrator, then the Sealed Demon's essence would have possessed his body and subsumed his consciousness. The system had saved him by integrating Kirkelas' mana. His willpower had counted for something there too, but he wasn't naive enough to assume that willpower alone could overcome a transformation which had destroyed the lives of countless people.

"We know," Marlene affirmed. "Even if we all become Demons and not Fell Beasts, the possibility exists that nothing of who we were before shall remain."

Simon frowned, irritation bubbling to the surface. "Then don't. I'm struggling to see your perspective here. Let's say that every single member of the Hurricane undergoes the Last Resort. Do you earnestly believe that a hundred middling Demons would be enough to slay Duke Helmund? Quantity can't bridge the gap in quality here – he'll still scatter you like leaves with a flick of his wrist."

"Almost certainly, yes."

"Okay." He was a hairsbreadth away from throwing his hands up into the air. "Then. Don't. When I'm the person telling you a plan is too risky, that's a good sign you should slam on the brakes. Your odds of success are so low that they're close to zero. Why are you–"

"Simon."

Marlene stared at him with a look of genuine pity. "None of that matters."

All at once, Simon noticed what had been missing from the rebels' faces. There were expressions of revulsion, disgust, betrayal...

Yet not reluctance.

"I appreciate what you are trying to do for us," Marlene said. "Truly. But we have no other recourse than this. If we fight as we are now, Helmund shall slaughter us. If we flee, that will only delay our execution by a period of days at most. We are exceedingly unlikely to kill him even as creatures of the Fell, but we might. Great power rests in that word."

Her tone hardened, eyes swimming with memories of countless failures and setbacks. "In the end, there is no choice but to grasp whatever fleeting chance of victory presents itself. That is how it has always been."

One-by-one, the rebels nodded, Marlene's statement resonating with them like a holy sermon. Bastian was late in his assent, but he still joined them eventually, donning a mask of acceptance as he reached out to clutch Cyna's hand.

Simon was left stunned, at a loss for what to say. All the progress he'd made towards convincing them had been undone in a span of thirty seconds.

No, that wasn't quite accurate. His progress hadn't been undone – because there was never any progress to begin with. These were people who practically venerated the concept of self-sacrifice. Some of them had been mentally prepared to die for longer than Simon had been alive. It was why Marlene and Victoria didn't feel the need to sugarcoat their explanations.

His efforts to persuade the Hurricane had been doomed from the start.

"You're being rash," Simon snapped, hating how off-balance he felt. "What happens when the Last Resort fails, because it will, and the Severed Isles is left without anyone to oppose Duke Helmund?"

"That is guaranteed regardless of what measures we take. Once this hideout is exposed, the rest of the Hurricane shall be hunted down with ease. We persisted until now by not drawing too much of the Duke's ire...which thanks to you, is no longer the case."

She grimaced. "Don't forget that Helmund has imprisoned hundreds of innocents within his castle. Some of them are family of the people standing here today. If we don't seize this opportunity to rescue them, their loved ones may never see the light of day again."

...Yeah. The hostages.

That complicated things, for multiple reasons. Simon couldn't rightfully tell the Hurricane to set aside their personal feelings here. Not when it would mark him as the biggest hypocrite in the world.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

If it had been his parents alive and trapped in Duke Helmund's clutches...

"Friendly fire is going to be an issue," he pointed out, recognizing that he'd transitioned into the 'bargaining' phase of negotiations. "Whoever transforms into a Fell Beast will be a threat to themselves and others. Would be downright tragic if they wind up massacring the very people they sought to protect."

"We'll trigger the transformations close to Duke Helmund's abode, out of sight," Marlene said. "Once all are finished, those who have retained their cognizance will herd the Fell Beasts towards his castle. Additionally, fifteen of our numbers will forgo the Last Resort entirely – their task shall be to free the prisoners from their cells."

Her lips twitched with subtle mirth. "And before you remark upon the numerous flaws and possible points of failure in that strategy...I am well-aware. It's still the best plan we have. The only plan, really."

I've got a better one.

Which the Hurricane would never agree to. Not in a million years. Even Kat had warned him to tread cautiously after he explained it to her.

Plan C, what can be Plan C...

"There's something I haven't told you," he began. "Another aspect of my Demonic abilities. This may sound like boasting, but it's the honest truth – I have an unprecedented capacity for growth. For getting stronger, day after day."

A ripple of understated emotion swept through the Hurricane, the crowd exploding into hushed murmurs. Something imperceptible shifted within Marlene's gaze. "Oh," she commented. "Do you, now?"

Simon was missing context for why they'd all responded like that, but it was too late to back out. In for a penny. "It goes beyond just honing your skill as you train. If I fight enemies, kill them, it increases my combat efficacy. Dramatically."

Marlene tilted her head, face unreadable. "Allow me to skip to the conclusion of what you are about to suggest. You intend to become powerful enough to slay Duke Helmund. In the meantime, we are to run and hide, never resting, always peering over our shoulders, trusting that you'll manage to return before he catches wind of us."
"Isn't that an improvement from everyone being guaranteed to die? I can beat him. It'll take time, but I can."

"No." Her refusal was harsh and curt.

Simon let out a dangerous laugh, his patience wearing thin. "Mmhmm. Right. Out of curiosity, what's your excuse now? Think I'm lying? Or that I'll assume the position of Valtia's next tyrant if I grow too powerful? By all means, tell me. What could you possibly–"

"We tried this once before!"

It was an outburst of many layered emotions blending together. Emotions that she'd long since buried – only for them to be dredged up against her will, their rot and decay laid bare for all to see.

She wasn't alone in that regard. Three-fourths of the Hurricane looked crestfallen, stricken by a familiar pain that was sharp as a knife. The rest were attempting to comfort them, experiencing grief-by-proxy from an event they hadn't personally borne witness to.

Simon didn't even have time to wonder what kind of minefield he'd stepped into when Marlene motioned at him, beckoning him forward.

"Follow me," she said, averting her eyes as she turned to walk away. "There is something I must show you."

--

Behind a locked door, within a room that Simon had glossed over during his bout of spying...

There was a memorial.

Nothing grand or ostentatious. Flowers, several hand-written letters, and a small gravestone embedded into the floor. A tiny space–

Yet packed with sentiment. The kind that spoke of people mourning a life taken from them too soon. The kind that made Simon feel as if he was intruding, even when Marlene invited him inside.

"His name was Alain," she said, her voice cracking. "He died young – as young as you appear to be. Nearly two years ago, now. He was virtuous and forthright. He was..."

Marlene exhaled slowly. "He was supposed to be the future. Our guiding light. A strength of will matched only by his strength of arms."

Without noticing, she'd started reaching out towards the gravestone. She pulled her arm back in a flash, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.

"Before, you called Duke Helmund an anomaly," she began. "I would argue that Alain was just as much of one. He was born with a weak affinity for mana, but the more he trained, and the more he fought, the stronger he became. There seemed to be no upper limit to the heights he could reach. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen."

Sounds similar to the transmigrator system, Simon mused. People in Valtia are limited by their innate aptitude for mana. Someone who could break through that glass ceiling would be–

He froze, a not-so-distant memory surging forth.

"The champion of the world known as Valtia has fallen," Voice-In-The-Sky had said, when it addressed the people of Earth. "Whoever is chosen today shall assume their mantle and continue the fight in their stead."

In that moment. Even without more supporting evidence. Simon knew, in the marrow of his bones, that Alain had been Valtia's champion.

This was the person he was originally meant to replace – before the gods of Evil sabotaged his transmigration.

"I had hoped he could one day assume leadership of the Hurricane," Marlene confessed, her gaze locked straight forward. "If he were only proficient at swinging a sword, it would have been a different matter. Letting power decide authority is what gets us leaders like Helmund. But Alain...he was compassionate. Charismatic. Wise for his years. Hardly a genius such as Lady Victoria, but always learning and open to new ideas."

A smile crept onto her face. "I thought...maybe him. I've grown old enough. Time to pass the torch. A fresh perspective would help keep its fire lit. If it was Alain, I would feel satisfied knowing that the future of the Severed Isles was in good hands."

She gripped her wrist. "Then Piers killed him."

Marlene fell silent, as if waiting for the gravestone to respond. It didn't.

For the dozenth time in his life, Simon wished he was better in situations like this. Comforting people never came naturally to him. Anything he could think to say felt insincere; an empty platitude you would find on the back of a store-bought card.

By the time he'd come up with something halfway decent, Marlene was already speaking again. "Alain witnessed Piers murder a beggar on the street," she recounted. "It sent his blood boiling. He knew he should have ignored it, let himself stay in the shadows and continue to grow his strength, but he just couldn't. That wasn't who he was."

She glanced over at Simon. "Like you, apparently. Although you were smarter in how you approached Piers. A claw to the throat was what that bastard deserved. Alain tried to reason with him, talk him out of killing another beggar."

As if to hide from a sight that only she could see, Marlene closed her eyes. "And he was cut down for it. Our guiding light, snuffed out in an instant by Piers Helmund. Not even the Duke. Piers."

Simon felt an uncomfortable itch crawling on his back as he was made intimately aware of how fortunate he'd been. Without his Fell mana, without Transmigrator's Body, he would have been the next person added to the Helmund's death toll.

Somehow, he doubted he would've gotten a memorial for his trouble.

"If you are anything like Alain, then phenomenal potential lies within you." Marlene opened her eyes, her gaze made of steel. "But that potential means nothing unless you are given the opportunity to realize it."

The woman turned her body to face him, seeming like she'd aged a decade over the span of their conversation. "Tell me, Simon – how soon can you grow powerful enough to fight the Duke on equal terms? A month? A year? How long would you have us scurrying around the Severed Isles like rats, our numbers thinning by the day? Keep in mind that we'd be lucky to last even a week now that Helmund is determined to stamp us out."

He didn't have an answer for her. In truth, he...wasn't sure it was actually possible to reach whatever Helmund's Estimated Level was.

Logistically speaking, to continue gaining Levels, he would need to face a series of progressively more powerful foes. For example, Level 20 opponents weren't going to give him much EXP now that he was Level 42. The issue would only exacerbate as he got stronger. By Level 70 or so, very little in the Severed Isles would be able to offer him any Experience at all.

On top of that, Simon wouldn't have felt confident fighting Helmund even at Level 100. The Duke was so far ahead of the bell curve that he single-handedly warped it beyond recognition. Catching up to him via normal means was statistically unfeasible.

A year of nonstop EXP farming probably wouldn't have been enough.

Upon seeing the look on his face, Marlene sighed. "So it goes." She clapped him on the shoulder, nodding as she exited the room. "Get some rest, Simon. When we move out tomorrow, I hope you'll be there with us to see things through to the end."

She departed without another word, leaving him alone with his thoughts, with his regrets...

And with only one option left.

--

Simon was sitting against a wall inside the memorial chambers, contemplating what to do, when Voice-In-The-Sky suddenly contacted him.

If you are alive, please respond! Its ephemeral greeting boomed inside his head, like a concerned parent calling after their kid had been out late for too long. This has to work eventually–

"I'm here," he muttered.

Ah! Fantastic! Wonderful to hear from you, Simon of Earth.

The transmigrator plastered a smile onto his face. "You too. Been having problems reaching me?"

The Voice coughed nonchalantly. Some minor problems, yes. The loopholes I've been using to communicate with you are being...closed. But as they say, hardship breeds innovation, and I refuse to let archaic rules stop me from ascertaining your safety.

It was such a nice gesture that Simon didn't know how to respond. "Thank you," he landed on, after much deliberation. "Sorry, but I don't think I'm in a talkative mood right now. Bit of an awkward time."

Then all the better that I am here. The Voice perked up. I may not be capable of assisting you directly, but sometimes lending an ear is worth more than a gift of gold. What ails you, Simon?

He chuckled. "Oh, just that age-old question: do the ends justify the means?"

Voice-In-The-Sky was quiet for several moments. What?

"There's something I have to do. Need to do. I know that for a fact."

He rubbed his temples. "Just wish I didn't have to be the one to do it. Keep hoping for a miracle to bail me out."

That is...worrying, as you are one of the most driven mortals I have ever met. If you are so hesitant to proceed with whatever this 'something' is, then perhaps you should take that as a warning.

"Obviously. I'm anticipating a lot of sleepless nights ahead. Doesn't change the reality of the situation."

The Voice paused, then spoke louder, as if it had reached an epiphany. Have you sought the counsel of Heroic Valor? Times like these are precisely what the Trait is intended for. It can help mend the conflict in your heart.

Simon leaned back, *thunk*-ing his head against a wall. "Of course you would recommend that," he grumbled.

Well, yes. Would consulting Heroic Valor not provide a solution to your dilemma?

"Sure, if I wanted to get bitched out again."

There was another pause, and another What? from the Voice.

"Me and Heroic Valor aren't exactly getting along." Simon allowed his annoyance to filter through; it was easier than focusing on everything else. "Don't get me wrong, I won't turn down free EXP, but it's a shame that it has to be attached to such a sanctimonious prick. We've never had a conversation where it didn't throw insults at me. Saying that I'm bad at forming sincere connections with others, that I'm destined to tread down the wrong path, that I'm the problem..."

He sighed. "It has some valid criticisms every now and then. It also doesn't understand how to phrase that criticism in a way that isn't tailor-made to piss me off."

Voice-In-The-Sky was silent for a long time.

Oh, it finally said. I see.

Simon peered up at the ceiling. "Is that unusual?" he asked. "Do other transmigrators have a working relationship with their versions of Heroic Valor?"

...Yes. Almost always.

"Then I guess I won the lottery." He drummed his fingers on his thigh. "How does Heroic Valor decide when it's appropriate to distribute bonus EXP? Is it like a mana-based AI program?"

I am not at liberty to reveal the specifics, Voice-In-The-Sky answered, regaining some of its poise. That would constitute a form of direct interference.

Simon paid attention to its tone. Not dismissive, but not celebratory. So my theory is flawed, but on the right track?

"Hmm. Do you guys trap souls in the system? You could use a person's mind to act as a base for Heroic Valor. Would save you the effort of creating an AI from scratch."

Voice-In-The-Sky sputtered with outrage and horror. I am not at liberty to reveal specifics!

"Swing and a miss. Figured that wouldn't be you guys' style, but it didn't hurt to ask."

That is...Simon. The Voice hesitated, as if debating whether it would be prudent to continue. I believe you to be a reasonably intelligent person in the context of your age, home world, and lived experiences.

The transmigrator blinked. "Thanks? Wasn't expecting positive reinforcement, but hey, beggars can't be choosers."

You possess the capacity to perceive the truth of things. If you haven't discerned the inherent nature of Heroic Valor...it is because a part of you does not want to.

"I don't want to?" His brow furrowed. "Why would–"

Simon's mouth slammed shut as his breath caught in his throat.

The gods' system was a closed system. Once a transmigration had occurred, outside interference was prohibited. Therefore, Heroic Valor's judgement calls weren't derived from the gods themselves.

It also wasn't a sentient AI or trapped soul. That ruled out the possibility of an external actor being slotted into the role of a Trait. Heroic Valor wasn't alive – not in the sense that Simon had hypothesized.

Yet it still had to be smart enough to disseminate bonus EXP for acts of righteousness, and to criticize acts of immorality. It could employ nuanced arguments, and it recognized the difference between right and wrong. That comprehension had to come from somewhere.

By process of elimination...

Simon smiled, his cheeks feeling wooden on his face. "Makes sense. Everything has to have a starting point, and there's just one place that Heroic Valor can derive its sense of judgement from."

Identify was a Skill which tailored its output based on the user's knowledge, biases, and subconscious thoughts. It could only produce a Description that fit within their implicit worldview.

Heroic Valor did the same. It was capable of picking apart Simon's self-doubts with expert precision. Even the ones that had been shoved down as far as possible.

No one could hate a person like they hated themself.