“What do you wish to talk about, Lord Springfield?” Ira asked when I stopped. Tris’s voice in my head confirmed we were alone—only she could hear us.

“Your opinion,” I said, turning around. I crossed my arms and looked deeply and intensely at Ira. “Specifically, on my recent actions, starting from when I decided to help the rebellion in Atrix.”

Ira went quiet. One minute stretched into two. Then two into four. “You can speak freely, Ira. Whatever you say won’t hurt me, and I’m not looking to punish. I want to learn. Oh, on second thought, start from the beginning. Let’s say you successfully hijacked my body. What would you have done the very moment you realized you had total control over me?”

I sensed Ira cringe, then detected a furiously strong urge to apologize radiate from her partly shivering arms. She swallowed the desire, likely because she predicted that apologizing would've irritated me.

“Irisa, Ichiha, and Kokan would have died. Erin would’ve been next. Sekh…would have also followed if I had the power to defeat her. I would have assimilated them without delay. Then I’d have turned my fangs on Bellerophon. After assimilating them, Lord Springfield, I would have rampaged every single graveyard. Then I’d moved to fishing villages. Then to the towns. Then I would’ve flown to another country and started it over. I would have used Tris’s abilities to remain undetectable and untouchable until I killed and assimilated Gloria. Because I would have the power of a Holy Lord, Lord Springfield, the equilibrium would have immediately shifted. Conquering the world and ruling through fear would have been a necessity, and to continue the imparting of wrath and hatred, I likely would have forced countries to war for my amusement.”

I stayed silent to absorb her words. She wasn’t lying. Someone like her, with my unique physiology, and Tris’s powerful skills that seemed designed to exploit loopholes…

The world would have ended. I truly believed that Ira would have had the necessary power to kill Meruria and her Six-Star Soul Warriors, whom I utterly despised. On one hand, if I had lost and Ira had won, the rage within me would’ve been partially satisfied since Mia’s and Tokko’s deaths were an eventuality.

“Okay. New scenario. I reach Atrix before having a chance to meet with the Plymoise agents that had nested inside. Let us say you take my body the moment I enter. What would you have done?”

“I would not have bothered with subterfuge. The agents who helped you groom the rebellion would have been free meals,” she said, her voice getting steadier. “Once they accepted me, I mean. The work they did would have been done by clones. They would have accomplished the same thing in half the time. My goal would have been to spread chaos—to make everyone fear their neighbor. My goal would have forced the former Lord Atrix to order more executions, more hangings, and more public beatings. And…” Ira’s voice dropped low. She spoke as if the words were physically hurting her. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Because if I had done it the way I used to think, everyone in Atrix would have died. I would have assimilated every man, woman, child, and animal, along with every corpse in the graveyards, Lord Springfield, in my pursuit for power.”

“…”

“…”

“What about the SP gained? What would you have done with it?”

“I would have spent it,” Ira replied without delay, “Power is—was—everything to me. Why would I waste a single second being weaker than necessary when my entire goal was to be as powerful as possible?”

“As powerful as possible…” I repeated, sighing in subtle irritation. “That was my goal. At least, it was at some point. Atrix was when I thought I finally stopped fucking around. The rebellion gave me a lot of corpses to assimilate. And yes, I did grow powerful. But the SP… Maybe since I realized I could finally learn skills and spells manually, I thought it was enough. I’m starting to think otherwise… I’m starting to think I chose wrong.” I met her eyes. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

Ira opened her mouth to answer, but she shut it, choosing to think deeply about my query. I felt her logic, but I didn’t know what she was going to say. I did know, however, that Tris’s influence was affecting her.

"Yes," she eventually said. “I do think it was a mistake. Your goal, Lord Springfield, is to kill Meruria. But Meruria wouldn’t wait. If she saw an opportunity to snatch power and obtain even more control and influence, she would have done so faster than it takes to blink. Your current strength isn’t the utmost of your potential if you had been solely focused on gathering as much power as possible from the beginning by optimizing your growth. I don’t know the peak, but you’re a far cry from it.”

“Ouch. Way to be brutally honest, Ira,” I said with a smile. “But that’s what I figured. I gave Tilde and Niva SP. I assume you would not have done that?”

“I would not. I would have hoarded it. Even if I were at my most powerful, I would have kept the SP to myself. Because I don’t think they could have effectively used it.”

“So, a mistake, then? In your opinion?”

Ira nodded. “The cyclops wants to harbor the heart of a fighter, but fate is giving her a hard time.”

“Continue,” I said. Ira then went into Niva’s failures, her fragile mental state, and how many times she had to be saved while not accomplishing anything of note.

“I’m sorry, but I do not think Niva has what it takes to evolve. I’ll admit, Lord Springfield, that Niva’s stubbornness to endure and keep living is very impressive and noted, but that is only half of the battle. For your fairy? I don’t think Tilde is suited for battle. Her strengths lie in supportive roles. Any battle prowess she can muster would have been eclipsed by your overwhelming raw power.”

Ira took another breath.

“In the grand scheme of things, you, even after gifting the SP, still have far more than anyone could ever hope to use. But I still stand by my answer that it was a mistake to give it away. Even if Niva evolves to a Dragonfolk, the strength she would provide your party would have already been outmatched by whatever level of power you and Sekh would have reached, not counting the assumed growth of Team Quella. Your peak, Lord Springfield, and your potential... It means that Niva will never be at your level. She will always be trailing behind, no matter what she does.”

“…”

“But that was how I used to think,” Ira added softly. “I don’t see things that way. I don’t see people as black or white, strong or weak, or gifted or neglected.”

It looked like she had more to say, so I gestured for her to continue.

“If someone like me, who used to ignore everything that didn’t contribute to the spreading of wrath, anger, war, and the like, could come to an understanding and realize that the world is far more complex and beautiful than I initially took it for, then who am I to say that Niva won’t eventually surpass your strength, Lord Springfield. I...love my little farm. I know the crops aren’t real. I know the animals are waypoint reconstructions, but I’m always looking forward to tending to them. So... As I am now, Lord Springfield, while I don’t think you made that many mistakes, I think you’re...not taking your situation as seriously as you should.”

“…” I smiled, a soft, blissful expression, and uncrossed my arms. My hand went to my Soul Weapon—a simple pistol—that I manifested on my hip. “You’re right. Completely. Some may think my recent actions are antithetical to what I desire. Why should I have proven I could learn skills without using SP more than necessary? To do so once should’ve been all the proof I desired, but I was stubborn.”

Ira didn’t know how to respond. She looked at me, with her mouth opening twice without any words coming out. Perhaps she didn’t expect my bluntness?

“Not just as a Soul Warrior, but as a chimera, too. I feast on my enemies to grow stronger, but don’t you think I’ve been neglecting something important? Chimeras are monsters. That makes me one, yet it’s been so long since I’ve assimilated one. Monsters are versatile—far more than any man, woman, or child. Should I eat something immune to lightning, then that immunity transfers to me. It’s the same with resistances and strengths, poisons and toxins.”

“What…” Ira chose her words carefully. “What will you do?”

I shook my head. “The question isn’t what I will do—it’s what we will do.” A soft grin blossomed on my face. “Perform well, and you may earn enough GGP to get that fountain you’ve been eyeing.”

“What do you have in mind, Lord Springfield?”

“We will hunt,” I declared. “For the rest of the night, and if it is applicable, every night until we arrive at the Ashlands. You and I will focus on mastering shared chimerism. To do so, we will assimilate powerful monsters to gain their strength and properties.”

The by-product of doing so would expand my map, giving me more locations to warp to, which was an advantageous side effect. On top of that, it would let Tris experiment with a theory she has that would drastically shorten my body’s adaptation to the gross, almost obscene amount of SP we were about to spend.

*****

*****

---Quella’s PoV---

“HA!” Ami grunted, sweeping a low kick aimed at Sekh’s shin. Sekh pivoted and ducked, then dashed inside Greggie’s guard. One hand went to his neck, the other to his leg. A heartbeat later, he was being tossed at Ami. The two were a tangle of limbs as they rolled across the dried grass. Our campfire illuminated their sweaty faces and exhausted demeanor.

“Decent,” Sekh said, not looking one bit out of breath. “That’s enough for tonight.”

“How... Why aren’t...you breathing hard?” asked Ami, panting.

“Because,” Sekh said, looking at the campfire. “It wasn’t exhausting. Nor was it challenging.”

“But we’re Soul Warriors.”

“You are. But you’ve been here for less than a year. I’ve...had a lot longer to adapt, to fight, and to survive,” Sekh answered. “Being a Soul Warrior means you have advantages, but you aren’t immortal. Don’t rely on it to see tomorrow. I don’t need to remind you about the battle at Aetos Village. From here on out, you should assume that, while the methods they used weren’t the most common, those strategies are available for your enemies to use.”

Sekh returned to the camp and sat near Tris as Ami and Greggie nursed their training injuries. I, meanwhile, tried to silent cast—again, and it failed—again. I’d been attempting since Lord Springfield left with Ira.

“Umm...” Elly looked at Sekh, her eyes taking in her lion-like features, from the wild black hair to the piercing silver eyes. Even if Elly didn’t know the truth, she likely sensed a great fathom of power buried beneath that woman. “You said advantages, and... I know you’re right, but it doesn’t feel like it. We weren’t asked before we came here. No one even gave us a heads-up. We...just showed up. I dunno. I like singing more than anything else, and now I can attack, heal, and support with just my voice. For an idol, the healing and support, I mean, is a dream come true. But it feels like an apology gift, if that makes sense.”

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” said Tilde, who ferried a cup of tea to her lips. “You all were, kinda, kidnapped by a force that isn’t really understood to be a deterrent in a cold war that you didn’t ask to be soldiers in. Soul Warriors can be from this world, and that is what some Holy and Dark Lords decide. But... Well, they know this world because they’ve lived in it. But other worlds?” Tilde pointed at the night sky. “There’s an infinite number of worlds out there. Some Lords get lucky and hit the jackpot. Others...not so much. If you’re a Holy or Dark Lord, and you don’t have the best reputation, or you’re, for one reason or another, averse to asking your citizens to be your Soul Warriors, or you don’t have anyone that seems powerful enough... You can always ask fate to guide your hand. But you’re right, Elly. It’s like the world’s asking you for forgiveness instead of permission. It’s...just one of those things that’s always been in play. Even 1,000 years ago... People were still getting cosmic kidnapped.”

“Is that something...that’s written into the world?” I asked. “Like gravity is something that exists and will always exist.”

“Maybe if this were any other world, that comparison would work. Gravity magic is a thing, Quella, so a powerful mage could conjure a sphere of non-gravity to walk on walls. But yes. I get what you’re going for. For as long as I can remember, people were summoned against their will. And I’m not saying it is impossible, and I can’t be everywhere at the same time, but as far as I am aware... Once you’re summoned here...you can’t go back home.”

A soft silence fell across the camp.

“We kind of figured that,” Keeth said, his voice small and quiet. “We knew that we couldn’t go home.”

“I don’t know if our home would accept our return,” I added without thinking. “Not as we are now. It would be like soldiers returning from a war. We can claim we would adapt and return to civilian life without issue, but...” I thought of my nightmares—of the people that Remy had forced me to kill. Even if they were all criminals, and I knew they weren’t, I was a mass murderer. All of Team Quella had to kill to survive. We all had blood on our hands. Violence existed in our world, of course, but...

It just felt different. It was a different type of sin that stained our souls. A sin of survival, and I wouldn’t regret it—I didn’t want to regret it. The Quella who lacked the strength to kill herself wasn’t here anymore. And the Quella that remained now had a spark of hope that illuminated the deep darkness of this cruel, cruel world.

“But to change the subject… Once we get closer to the Ashlands, don’t use wind magic,” Tilde said. The ash is thicker than sand. Courser and rougher, too. And a real pain in the ass to handle. You can be certain the Ashlands have a dozen or two ash storms happening at any given time. But it’s better to not add to the windy terrors if we can help it, you know?”

“Water magic, then?” I asked.

“Yep. Water and ice. The Ashlands are going to be hot. So, we can expect enemies affiliated with earth and fire, primarily, with wind being a secondary consideration. As for the specifics? Think of the Ashlands as a desert—what you’d find in a desert, enemy-wise, will be found in the Ashlands. Just…a little different. So, scorpions, sand snakes, sand worms, etc.”

“That doesn’t include the wayward or orphaned spirits,” Tris added. “The Ashlands are a prime spot for earth, fire, or wind spirits to navigate. The residue mana there is perfect for substituting the magic energy they would have gotten from their summoner. Remember, a Fire Lord is living inside the ruins of Mt. Kindle.”

"Oh, and it’s gonna be hot. It’s called the Ashlands, but it’s really a big desert.” Tilde proudly tapped her maid uniform. “My Master’s reinforced my clothes with incredible resistance to fire, heat, ice, and cold. Quella, go on. Try it. Hit me with a [Fireball].”

My eyes went wide. “Are you out of your mind? Tilde, I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can. Okay. Don’t use the big stuff. But a small flame spell at first.” Tilde tapped her arm. “Right here.”

I didn’t want to. Even after Tris said it was okay, I was hesitant. Regardless, I…

I used a spell that made a controlled ember flow from my finger—it reminded me of a lighter. I held my hand to Tilde’s uniform, and the flames felt like they didn’t know what it was. The embers just dissipated. Intrigued, I gradually used more powerful spells until a [Fireball] the size of an apple failed to even leave a mark. It was as if it hit an immovable wall that negated the concept of ‘flame.’ It was astoundingly interesting and, if I were honest, a little unnerving because this was clothing.

It wasn’t armor.

What immunities does Lord Springfield harbor?

“Oh, my Master’s gonna prepare some gifts for you.” Tilde pointed at my team and me. “It’s gonna make the trip into the Ashlands a hell of a lot more bearable. I hope you’re ready for them. Because they’re going to be a one-of-a-kind Lyudmila Vredi Springfield special!”