Chapter 45 (Patreon)

Vul’to sat still on the ground as the minutes crawled by, idly crunching leaves in his hands, the murmuring of civilians in the background acting as the countdown timer for his success or failure. As more people turned in for the night, the noises of the crowd quieted, signaling that the curfew was drawing closer. While the curfew wasn’t enforced at swordpoint or anything so drastic, there was a very strong social incentive not to end up being the layabout who couldn’t keep up during a march and caused everyone else to slow their pace. Based on how brutal the verbal lashings had been towards those few layabouts in the early days – mostly rich folks who had yet to realize their money was now worth as much as shiny paperweights – pressing a sword to their necks might actually have been the less mortifying alternative.

The point was; the curfew wouldn’t wait for him to pull himself together. Vul’to dug deep inside, hoping for a groundswell of courage to rise up within him and propel him one forest clearing over to where Rob was laying, alone and isolated. If he missed his opportunity to talk to Rob, he would have to wake up the next morning and explain to everyone that he hadn’t gone to console their friend, and the only excuse he could give them was cowardice.

Why...why can’t I…

It was a rhetorical question. Vul’to knew exactly why. He opened his Character Sheet, read it over once again, and deduced that the last dozen scrutinizations hadn’t been figments of his imagination.

Damnit.

That was when an older man walked over and sat down a few feet in front of him. The man’s garb and dual-swords marked him as a Ranger, and something about his appearance tickled the back of Vul’to’s brain in nascent comprehension, but try as he might he couldn’t place a name to the man’s face. He hadn’t known that many of the full-fledged Rangers back when the Village was yet whole. Identifying the man was always an option, but Vul’to was one of the holdouts who considered that sort of thing rude. As far as he was concerned, Identify should be used on enemies to figure out how to kill them, not on potential friends whose best foot forward might be hacked off at the ankle by whatever incriminating text the system decided to include in their status profile. So, instead, he handled it like a reasonable person should.

“May I help you?” Vul’to inquired. At least I’m still capable of asking this much.

The man shook his head. His face reminded Vul’to of Riardin’s; taut and worn-down by life. “Your appreciation is thoughtful, but on the contrary; I’m here to help you, if at all possible.”

Vul’to raised his eyebrows. “What gave you the impression I needed help?”

The corners of the Ranger’s lips twitched. “Your status profile said you were Anxious and Conflicted.”

Vul’to sighed in disappointment. “Doesn’t anyone have any manners anymore? What if it had said...I don’t know, that I was contemplating murder?”

“Are you? That’s certainly something a person would be anxious and conflicted over.”

“No! No. I’m just...”

Vul’to rubbed his temples, wondering how he’d so quickly lost control of the conversation. “Forgive me for asking, but did someone put you up to this? One of my friends noticing I’d gotten cold feet, perhaps? I’m sorry if that sounds blunt, but I don’t know for what other reason you would randomly come over and offer assistance. As far as I can recall, we’ve never once spoken.”

The man smirked. It appeared slightly unnatural on his face, like he was still getting used to using those particular muscles. “A valid question. If you’ll permit me to not go into too much detail, I’ll simply say that once upon a time, someone helped me when I needed it most. I’ve been trying to pay that kindness forward ever since. You looked like you needed someone to lend their ear to you, and, well, here I am.”

Vul’to smiled. “And you would be right. I wish more people had your inherent generosity.”

The Ranger’s smirk faded. “My inherent generosity...is debatable. But we’re not here to talk about me. Come, tell me what ails you. As we’ve never spoken before, I hold no preconceptions towards you, and you won’t need to worry about any awkward glances in the future, as I’ll be heading to Reviton while you’ll be striking north. Consider me a blank slate upon which to vent your frustrations.”

Vul’to hesitated. “Don’t know if I’m heading north, actually. It’s complicated, and – wait, why did you assume I was going with the Deserters?”

To his credit, the man had the good graces to look sheepish. “Well...” he said, scratching his head. “I did Identify you. The Blightkillers and their friends are quite the source of gossip among the Villagers as of late.”

“I’m famous?” Vul’to groaned. “I don’t want to be famous. Not even tangentially. I’m perfectly comfortable with letting Keira or Alia be the one that the legends will sing songs of.”

It took him a moment to realize who he’d included in that statement. Vul’to lowered his gaze, a few seconds passing before the Ranger spoke up. “Lost someone?” He asked, softly.

“Who hasn’t?”

The man nodded. He said nothing, giving Vul’to a few seconds longer to gather his thoughts.

“It hurts,” Vul’to finally said. “But it’s a different hurt than the one ailing me right now. It’s not why I’m ‘Anxious’ and ‘Conflicted’.”

“Then why?”

Vul’to locked eyes with the Ranger. The man, the total stranger, was waiting patiently for him to bare his soul. Vul’to started speaking before his mind had time to catch up and realize how strange the situation was. If he stopped to think for too long, he might let the opportunity pass him by.

“Have any of your Skills tailored themselves to you?” Vul’to leaned forward. “As in, have you gotten any Rare Skills based on unique circumstances? Ones that others might not have?”

It was a very personal question, but the Ranger had known what he was signing up for by sitting in front of a late teenager and asking to talk about emotions. And if he hadn’t, he most definitely knew now. The man’s eyes widened, but he hesitated no longer than a moment before answering.

“Just one. Not sure if it counts, though. Melancholy Resistance Level 3.”

Vul’to couldn’t fully suppress his gasp. The Skill’s designation as ‘Rare’ had been far more accurate in the past, back before The Scouring and The Cataclysm tore Elatra asunder. Now over half the population – himself included – possessed the Skill...at Level 1. Level 2 was extremely uncommon; the only person that Vul’to knew who had the Skill that high was Riardin, although admittedly, it wasn’t an acquisition that people went around announcing to the world. He couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of pain a person must have suffered to reach Melancholy Resistance Level 3. Living in their own mind must have been like being trapped in a cage of nightmares made of bone and flesh, day in and day out.

“Do you have it activated?” Vul’to asked in a hush. Riardin had informed them – in no uncertain detail – to never activate the Skill unless their lives truly depended on stabilizing their mental states. The descriptions he’d given of the traumatized soldiers who had lost themselves to the Skill were...harrowing. And he’d given this warning with the implicit assumption that their level of the Skill would be at 1, maybe 2 if the world truly decided one day to dump a mountainload of catastrophes on them. But Level 3?

The Ranger considered Vul’to’s question with a face drained of any prior levity. “Used to. Not anymore. Activated it every now and then to numb the pain, but deactivating it just made the pain come charging back with reinforcements. Had to choose between leaving it deactivated for good, or activating it permanently and embracing the new me.”

He shuddered. “I came close. Very, very close. So while it might not be exactly whatever your specific situation is – believe me when I say that I believe that a single Skill has the potential to change who you are.” He put some steel into his tone. “But that doesn’t mean it has to. I overcame Melancholy Resistance. It wanted to change me, but I refused to let it hold sway over who I was. Whatever Skill is troubling you so, remember that worst comes to worst, it can always be deactivated and ignored.”

Vul’to clenched his fists together so tightly that, were he not wearing gloves, he would have drawn blood. With a heavy heart, he opened his Character Sheet and read off his most recently-acquired Skill.

Name: Sole Survivor (LV 1) (RARE)
Prerequisite: Leave Alia to die and have Tarric take a lethal blow for you.
Description: Three trainees fought together. One trainee lived. Such is the way of the world that the worthy outlive the weak. Let their deaths be stepping stones to greater heights. Gain +3 to all stats when not in a Party. Cannot be deactivated.

The Ranger’s composed expression shattered as Vul’to read the text off of his Character Screen. He couldn’t blame him. The man’s face of horrified disbelief was a microcosm of what Vul’to was feeling every day.

“It was my fault,” Vul'to said, his voice shaky. “That’s what the system is telling me. I could have stopped Alia from going off on her own. I could have paid more attention to my surroundings so Tarric wouldn’t have had to...”

He choked back a sob. “I could have done so much. Neither of them had to die. But they did, and the responsibility is mine.”

Tears obscured his vision. “I...I think the system is warning me to stay away from my friends. The Skill is a premonition of bad tidings. Why else would it give me such an absurd bonus that only applies when I’m alone? On a Skill that can’t be deactivated? I can scarcely imagine what tragedy would befall my friends if I joined another party with them. I’ve already gotten Alia and Tarric killed through inaction and incompetence – who would it be this time? Orn’tol? Zamira? Every last person that I know and love?”

Vul’to grit his teeth together as he tried to force his tears back into his eyes. That, too, was a battle he ended up losing. “I shouldn’t even be here. I’m a danger to myself and others. What in Lothren’s name am I supposed to do when the world itself is telling me I’m not fit to be anyone’s ally?”

“Fuck Lothren.”

Vul’to’s mouth fell open at the sacrilege. The Ranger scratched his chin for a moment before continuing. “Well, not in a literal sense, but if you can somehow pull that off, drinks are on me. But jokes aside: I mean it. Fuck Lothren, fuck that Skill, and fuck the System. None of them get to decide the worth of a soldier. We who have suffered through so much deserve far more than several lines of text acting as the high judges of our strength of character.”

The man leaned forward, fixing Vul’to with a gaze that made the trainee gasp for breath. There was pain enough for hundreds kept locked behind those eyes, the spectres of the lost haunting him in perpetuity. “You did not kill your friends. No more than any soldier who buried allies, friends, and brothers to the whims of fate did. That Skill of yours is a fucking farce, and I give you full permission to ignore it.”

He kept his eyes fixated on Vul’to’s, letting the depth of his conviction sink in for a time, before relaxing his posture and adopting a more casual tone. “Keep palling around with the Human – you’ll benefit from each other’s company, and in the long run, sharing Fast Learner is worth more than a large initial stat bonus. If the system truly wanted to seduce you away from companionship, it should have given you +10 in everything at the bare minimum, eh?”

Vul’to grabbed at the man’s words like a starving beggar at a feast. It was what he’d longed to hear, his aching heart trembling as he was told that no, he wasn’t to blame. He’d prepared himself to leave, to bid farewell to his friends for all of their sakes, and if the Ranger had told him to follow through with that conviction, then that would have been that. Instead, he was being given absolution, and it was wonderful and terrifying in equal measure.

“Is it that simple?” He mumbled.

“As simple as anything in life is,” the Ranger replied. “Which means not at all.”

Vul’to cracked a smile. “How oddly inspirational.”

The Ranger chuckled as he gave a half-shrug. “Your outlook changes when you feel like you’ve been given a second chance. Life is no less complicated than it was before, but I find that I have less patience for agonizing over tough decisions that, in truth, have only one real answer. There’s so much else I could be doing with my time. Like helping out young ones like yourself.”

He smiled. “On that note, is there anything else that troubles you?”

Vul’to paused. “I need to cheer up my friends, but I don’t know if I’ll get the words right.”

“You probably won’t, but if he’s your friend, he’ll understand the intent behind the words. That’s what’s most important. If nothing else, I seem to have improved your mood, and I somehow doubt I said the exact right thing at every juncture. You can hardly do worse then telling the gods to go fuck themselves.”

Vul’to laughed. “That bit might cheer Rob up, actually. I don’t think he’s very fond of Elatran deities.”

He stood up in one motion, feeling as energized as if he’d just finished his training warm-up. “I hope you got a level up in Diplomacy out of that, because honestly speaking, this is the best I’ve felt in days. Is it alright with you if I capitalize on this transitory momentum and go speak with Rob before my spirit flounders?”

The Ranger nodded, smiling wide. “By all means. Go pay it forward. It was a pleasure meeting you, Vul’to.”

“Before I reply in kind; what’s your name?” Even if the Ranger didn’t care, Vul’to wouldn’t Identify him. He had his own standards to uphold.

The man hesitated. “Kenzotul.”

Vul’to smiled back. “Then it was a pleasure meeting you as well, Kenzotul.”

Without another word, Vul’to set off for Rob. It didn’t take long to reach the clearing where the Human had sequestered himself in. Rob was laying on his back, staring into the sky, nonchalantly breaking the rules of reality as he repeatedly summoned and dismissed his broken shortsword with the air of someone playing catch with themselves. Vul’to shook his head at the sight, wondering if he himself would have so quickly gotten used to tapping into the latent godlike energies of a Crystal and begun acting like it was no great marvel.

“Hello, Rob,” Vul’to said. He sat down next to the Human and offered him a smile. “Would you like to talk?”

Rob scrunched his eyes like he’d been awoken from a daydream. “What? No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Not to worry – some of that plate just got cleared. I’m ready for seconds.”

The Human sat up straight, eyes wide. “Did you just immediately interpret an Earth saying and work it into your response using clever wordplay?” He grinned, and a bit of the light returned to his eyes. “That’s awesome! I was worried the day might never come.”

Vul’to arched an eyebrow. “I, for one, think we’ve been very accommodating with taking your Earth sayings and ‘rolling with the punches’, so to speak. Can you repeat a single Elven saying without my prompting?”

Rob blinked. “Um. I know what tadron means. Does that count?”

“No. And for the record, while your efforts at misdirection were admirable, you’re not going to divert me from my original question. Would you like to talk?”

The Human winced like he’d been caught trying to sneak out of training. “You’re not really phrasing it like a question, Vul’to.”

Vul’to smiled. “I want to help you, and this is the only way I think might work. I’m prepared to ask many more times until you relent and open your thoughts to us. If coming off as overbearing is the price to pay for not leaving you alone in your own mind any longer, then it’s a price I’ll pay without hesitation.”

“That would be annoying if I wasn’t appreciative of it,” Rob grumbled. He tossed his broken shortsword back and forth between his hands, stalling for time, before finally sighing and dismissing the weapon in a shimmer of blue. “Fine, fine, you got me cornered by friendship. Look, I just...”

He trailed off. “I’ve told you about Earth. It’s not...like here. At least the parts where I come from aren’t. I should’ve lived my whole life without hurting anyone. Getting into a dumb fight and getting my ass kicked, sure, that’s just part of the college experience. But cutting two people’s heads off?”

Rob’s eyes glazed over. “Not something I ever expected from myself.” He opened his mouth to continue, but no words were forthcoming.

“None of us believe that you did anything wrong,” Vul’to said.

“I know,” Rob said. “If anything, people here are pretty stoked that I was able to kill two people. It kind of pisses me off, honestly. I spent so much time trying to convince people that I wasn’t some crazed Human out for Elven blood. It was like trying to scale a mountain using toothpicks. But I ended up killing two Elves anyway, except it’s okay because they were the right Elves to kill. No harm no foul.”

His leg started shifting with nervous energy. “And then there’s good old Leveling High. It forced me to feel as if killing those people was like getting early Christmas presents. No wonder the big war between everyone went to shit. Operant conditioning at its fucking finest. Makes me want to hang up my sword and never fight again, but that’s not an option, is it? I’ll have to kill more people in the future if I want to survive. They’re not going to agree to peace if I say pretty please and ask nicely. I could have had Diplomacy Level 50 and those four elves still would have had to die.”

The Human finally noticed that his leg was moving unconsciously, and he forced it to stop with a bit of visible effort. “I just don’t even know who I am anymore, Vul’to. I’m stronger and faster and tougher than any human on Earth could ever hope to be. I’m getting drugged by magic numbers to make me more violent and aggressive. I got blasted to atoms and put back together. I’ve murdered multiple people and they won’t be the last. The more time I spend here, the more I feel like I’m losing myself. I do intend to make my way back home someday – I’ll fucking figure it out, just you wait – and when I do, I want my friends and family to recognize me.”

His face twisted into something between a grimace and a sneer before snapping back to an expression of sad longing. “My biggest nightmare is that I’ll walk into my living room back at home, say hi to everyone lounging on the couch, and they’ll say: Who are you? What have you done with Rob?”

Vul’to didn’t quite understand where all of Rob’s concerns were coming from, which was to be expected. Earth was a place Rob had never fully explained – not that he could have. It was near-impossible to summarize an entire culture that you’d lived your entire life in. There was too much to explain, and too many ingrained social norms that you would never even think you needed to explain. Vul’to had seen culture clashes between Elves and the other races on Elatra occur plenty of times, and they had the benefit of living on the same world. A land without stats, Levels, and Experience was one that Vul’to might never fully be able to wrap his head around.

Yet asking for clarification might make Rob lose momentum and retreat back into his shell, so Vul’to was forced to improvise. He broke down the Human’s worries into simple, universal statements such as ‘Rob judges himself for killing’ and ‘stats are making him feel uncomfortable in his skin’. After a couple seconds of frantic thinking where Vul’to prayed that Rob wouldn’t end the conversation to escape the silence, a lightning bolt of inspiration struck.

“Would they notice any difference if they spoke to you?”

Rob’s face fell flat. “Say what?”

“Most of what you just described relates to your physical body and certain actions you’ve taken,” Vul’to explained. “But from my perspective, outside of becoming reasonably more comfortable in your surroundings, your personality is the same as when I met you. Would your friends and family truly consider you to be such a different person were they to speak to you now?”

“If I engaged in superficial small talk and nothing else? Maybe not.” Rob's eyes took on a faraway look. “But the stuff that’s affected me below the surface would take time to come out. Like a layer of rotting garbage buried an inch underground that gets uncovered after the next rainfall. I’d have to explain what happened on Elatra and...”

He trailed off once more. Vul’to considered how to respond, and then shamelessly stole a line from Kenzotul and re-purposed it.

“They’re your friends and family, Rob. If they care about you, and it sounds like they do, they’ll understand the intent behind your explanations, even if you don’t get the words quite right the first time around. Trust them as they would trust you.”

A tired smile crept its way across Rob’s face. “It is kind of a dick move not to believe in them, isn’t it? I can hear the impending dad lecture from a universe away. Mom would give me that ‘I’m not mad, just sad’ look that would make me feel like a real heel. And Jason would rightfully call me a dumbass.” He sighed. “Fuck, I miss them. For every time they annoyed me I have ten memories that are precious, and at this point the rose-tinted glasses are making even the time where Jason borrowed my car for five minutes and backed it into a brick wall seem like a funny anecdote.”

Rob flinched like he’d been slapped as he apparently came to the realization that Vul’to had been waiting for him to pick up on; that he was reminiscing about his still-living friends and family to someone who had lost their parents eight years ago and best friend two weeks ago.

As Rob floundered, mouth clenched shut and his gaze averted, Vul’to collected all the willpower he could muster and used it to make one final push. “Tell me about them. What are they like?”

“No, man, I couldn’t-”

“It’s okay.” Somehow, that was the truth. “I’d like to hear whatever stories you have to share. Only if you’re willing, of course.”

An invisible dam within Rob seemed to break. He hesitated only for a moment before his mouth opened and the words started spilling out. “My dad likes to talk. A lot. We didn’t have much money growing up, which meant no toys or going to the movies or anything like that, so I think he used conversation and bad jokes to fill in the silence and keep us both entertained. It wasn’t something I fully appreciated until I started to get older and realized that most other kids had a mom to help around the house and/or supplement the family income with their job. Dad did a damn good job on his own, though. Taught me every life lesson he could. And those classes went on for...a long time. I question if the man has actual lungs or a cybernetic implant that lets him breathe through his skin, because he turns run-on sentences into run-on paragraphs without seeming winded at all.”

The lines in his face gradually relaxed as he spoke. “Then there’s Mom. Met her when I was eight, Dad married her when I was ten. Didn’t know how to handle it, cause, you know, new Mom. Too many emotions bustling around in my head for a ten-year old to act like an adult. Don’t think I fully accepted her until she fucked up, actually. Six months into the marriage she got caught up in gambling and nearly tanked our finances. We’d managed to afford some luxuries for the first time in ever, and then it was right back to discounted ramen for dinner. Mom cried and apologized, so, so much, and that was when it hit my little pea-sized kid brain that she cared. She loved us and was horrified that she’d both set us back and potentially ruined her chance at being part of our family. I went over and gave her a hug, she gave one back, and the rest is history. She never touched slots again, and now she’s a real ‘giver’ type. Always making sure people had everything they needed. Whether that meant emotional needs like love and affection, or physical ones like clothes and food. If you looked the least-bit hungry, watch out, because a home-cooked dinner with your name on it was already on the way.”

A spike of envy flared inside Vul’to. Rob had a happy, wistful look on his face as he described his parents, who by all accounts seemed like wonderful people. It...wasn’t something Vul’to could relate to. But at the same time, there was a sense of catharsis to be had from listening to the Human reminisce about his happy family life. If Vul’to himself couldn’t have experienced it, then it was nice to know that some of the friends he cared about had.

“Then there’s Jason,” Rob continued. “I have other friends I miss too, but I doubt they give a shit that I’m gone. Jason would. He’s my best friend, and basically the best guy ever. Well, I’m biased, but it’s also kind of true? He’s a social butterfly, a chick magnet, and good at basically everything he puts his mind to. I would hate the guy if he wasn’t nice to everyone he met. He would never admit it, but I think he’s fully aware of the, uh, ‘power’ he wields, and takes care to make sure he doesn’t use it for evil. We’ve been best friends since longer than I can remember – my dad knew his dad, and they introduced us, and that was that. Back when I was a quiet poor kid who most people treated as background setting, he was the one guy who actually wanted to be my friend. It made me feel...real. Less invisible. I owe him a lot for that.”

The Human grinned. “Course, he’s still a dumbass. It’s required by law for college teens to be dumbasses. I have so much dirt on him, you would not believe it. As far as shameful secrets go, they’re less skeletons in the closest and more stuffed animals in the living room, but hey, still hilarious.”

Vul’to summoned up another push of resolve and started to speak. It was easier, this time; less painful. “Tarric...was not the best guy ever.” He chuckled at Rob’s dumbfounded expression. “He may have been my best friend, but I was not blind to his faults. Tarric spoke when he shouldn’t, let his own insecurities drag him down, and never seemed quite happy with himself. Half of his shortcomings were only in his head, but he agonized over them enough that they were magnified into larger issues than they ever should have been. It often saddened me; I wished the best for him, but there’s only so much you can do to help a man overcome himself.”

He’d expected talking about Tarric to hurt, envisioned every word would be as a spike through his heart. Instead, it flooded Vul’to with relief. His memories hadn’t been tainted; he could look back on happier times with a smile on his face.

“I also admired him fiercely,” Vul’to continued. “Despite his shortcomings, no matter how many times he fell, he always picked himself back up and tried again. It was the kind of resolve I could only wish I possessed. Given time, and with repeated efforts, I believe he would have forged himself into a man that not even he himself could have found too much fault with.”

He laughed. “And regardless of whether or not that dream of his came to pass, it wouldn’t have mattered to me either way. I would have gladly continued to spend time with him just as he was. An experience shared with him was one that was made better by his presence.”

His eyes blurred with moisture. “We were best friends. At the end of the day, what more needs to be said?”

Vul’to conjured up an image of Tarric in his mind’s eye. Unbidden, a feeling rose to the surface, just like one had every time he imagined his friend over the last two weeks. He would think: I’m sorry, and his gut would curdle with nausea as he relived the moment of Tarric’s demise in horrific detail.

This time was different. He looked his fallen friend in the eyes, and with a solemn warmth, thought: Thank you. For everything.

Silence stretched on between Vul’to and Rob. Not the kind that begged to be filled, but a welcome respite one that granted the two of them time to decompress and absorb the moment. They chose their next words with leisurely care, feeling no pressure to rush into the next stage of the conversation.

After some time, Rob spoke first. “I imagine you bore witness to a lot of Tarric’s most embarrassing moments over the years.”

Vul’to chuckled. “Indeed I did.”

The Human perked up the left side of his mouth in a half-smirk. “Want to trade some of those stories for my own renditions of Jason’s ‘Greatest’ Hits?”

“I would like nothing more.”

–

Some time later, Rob waved Vul’to goodbye as the elf went to turn in for the night. I should probably hit the hay as well, Rob thought. But I can push it for a few more minutes. So what if I end up being the last one to pass out? The Rangers here might think they’ve trained themselves to function properly on low sleep, but none of them ever suffered through cramming during finals week. I’ll be fiiiiiiiine.

Diplomacy sent an impression of exasperated disbelief at him. Rob replied with a mental sigh. I know, I know. I promise I will actually get some sleep tonight. Just need a bit of extra time to process.

This time Diplomacy sent over an impression of inquisitive concern. I’m doing better, Rob answered. Still not perfect, but none of us are, and life’s not going to sit around and wait for me to get my shit together. And talking to Vul’to about Jason and my folks was actually pretty nice.

He adopted a teasing tone. Looks like Vul’to managed to pull himself up by his own bootstraps without our help. I seem to recall asking you to think of a way to cheer him up? Whatever happened to that?

Diplomacy responded with the most complicated emotional impression Rob had been forced to decipher thus far. After a few seconds of what felt like playing Simon Says while blindfolded, Rob interpreted the impression as Diplomacy claiming that nothing it could have come up with would have been as effective as letting Vul’to help them. By cheering up Rob, Vul’to cheered himself up in the process. This, in fact, had been Diplomacy’s plan all along, and no one could prove otherwise.

Rob said nothing in return. He hesitated, feeling like he was standing outside an open door leading into a pitch-black room. Something was in there, but he didn’t know what. Some secrets were better left hidden in shadow, and it might be easier for everyone involved if he shut the door and walked away.

He might have done exactly that if it hadn’t been for Vul’to. The man had endured the trial of tackling his grief over losing Tarric in an effort to cheer up a friend; an act that must have taken a hundred times more bravery than the issue Rob was agonizing over right now. Giving up at this juncture would have been an insult to both of them.

Why are you still sending over emotional impressions? Rob finally asked. I know you can speak actual words. I’ve heard them before.

Diplomacy didn’t reply. It wasn’t gone; just silent. Rob could sense it in its usual spot, currently taking up residence in the back of his mind, an amorphous orb of intent that simultaneously felt like a part of him and another entity entirely.

None of his other Skills were like that. Either they integrated with him seamlessly enough that he couldn’t tell where he began and the Skill ended, or they were an obvious outside influence that felt distinct from himself. Diplomacy was the only one that had started off as the former and then transitioned into the latter over time. The more he used it, and the more it Leveled Up, the more it took on a life of its own.

A literal life of its own. None of his other Skills had what Rob could only describe as a personality. None of his other Skills could talk. Just Diplomacy.

Unless you counted the system messages. Which was a disturbing comparison.

Rob addressed the Skill again, adjusting his internal voice to take on a tone that was calm, but firm; the alarms weren’t being sounded just yet, but he wasn’t going to sleep without answers.

What are you?

Diplomacy gasped.

--

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