Outcast Chapter 257 (Book 6 Chapter 42) (Patreon)

Keira staggered, nearly collapsing as she was inundated by more EXP than she'd ever felt before.

Reached Level 85!

5 Stat Points Gained!

Savage Warrior Level Increased! 84 → 85

Reached Level 86!

5 Stat Points Gained!

Savage Warrior Level Increased! 85 → 86

Reached Level 87!

...

It continued on until Level 93, where the torrent finally slowed to a trickle.

Keira let out a breath of air that she didn't realize she'd been holding. Panting heavily, she glanced around at her allies, seeing that they'd also been overwhelmed by the same drastic influx of Experience.  Everyone gradually regained their senses–

And then quickly turned to peer up at the sky, their eyes widening with astonishment. Thanks to Orn'tol's Sharing Hand, his Party members received partial EXP from kills. Them suddenly gaining Levels could only have meant one thing.

From atop the clouds, Ragnavi's distant form began to fall.

The sight temporarily robbed the Party of their capacity for speech. It was so quiet that Keira could have heard a mouse squeaking from miles away. Eventually, Sylpeiros managed to locate some part of his voice, announcing the end of an era with a single hushed utterance.

"She's...dead." The Seneschal's tone contained a noticeable lack of conviction. He paused, seemingly in disbelief of his own proclamation, as if waiting for someone to contradict him. When none of them did, he just massaged his temples and shook his head. "Dragon Queen Ragnavi is dead. That's..."

Sylpeiros trailed off. Even in the face of incontrovertible evidence, he found himself unable to shake his doubts.

Keira could understand why. After witnessing Ragnavi shrug off their Party's strongest efforts with an almost contemptuous ease, it was difficult to believe that she had actually succumbed to death's cold embrace. That Lifesurge fiasco in particular was going to haunt their nightmares for days to come. They wouldn't have been terribly surprised if she decided to conjure up a 'Revive From Death' Skill out of the aether.

Yet it never happened. Ragnavi just kept falling, her body limp and lifeless, bereft of the indomitable power that had made her seem like a natural disaster in mortal guise.

No one spoke a word as she descended. There was something...austere, about it all. As if they could feel the crossroads of history unfolding before their eyes, a new dawn setting over Elatra's–

FUCK! With a start, Keira remembered why the Queen was dead. The influx of EXP and the shock of the moment had distracted her from how Rob was still inside Ragnavi's goddamn stomach.

When she hits the ground at full speed, he'll – no, wait, he's survived much worse. Keira exhaled her stress in a long breath. It is fortunate that he can't gain Levels anymore. Ragnavi's EXP outright blindsided us, and that was when we only received a portion, *and* when we don't possess Leveling High. Rob would have...

...Although...he hadn't been replying to Messages since casting Waymark. With growing apprehension, Keira opened the Party Screen to–

Alert: Party disbanded by Party Leader – Rob!

She froze. A sense of formless anxiety twisted in her gut, molded by thoughts and emotions she couldn't quite discern, yet were screaming at her to panic. Like an indistinct warning yelled from the opposite end of a street.

Before Keira had time to parse what she was feeling, Ragnavi's corpse smashed onto the ground just several hundred feet away.

The Queen's now-deceased body wasn't empowered by Skills and stats. As such, gravity was free to exert its authority upon her large, bulky frame, no different than any other heavy object that had fallen from a great height. Her toughened scales would dilute some of the impact, but not enough for her to come out unscathed. Logically, Keira knew all of that already.

It was still jaw-dropping to watch Ragnavi burst apart like an overripe fruit.

As if a spell had been broken, everyone took off running. They no longer harbored doubts over whether or not the Queen was secretly alive. Keira knew of only one person who could survive their body being splattered across the ground like a grotesque piece of art – and he was currently crawling out from underneath Ragnavi's remains, blood and viscera coating him with an off-red sheen.

Several hundred feet wasn't a long run for high-Level Combat Class users. Even so, Keira was already shouting the instant she spotted him. "Rob!" She pushed her feet to move faster. "Rob! Rob! Are you alright?!" When he didn't answer, she worriedly cast Identify.

Error: Identify has encountered an unexpected occurrence. Now processing. Please try again later.

She...didn't know what to make of that.

Rob was on his feet by the time they reached him. The Human seemed mostly unharmed, with Lifesteal having largely healed his injuries. His glassy-eyed stare was far more concerning. Seven Party members rushed to crowd around him, but he failed to meet their gazes or return their greetings.

Slowly, as if moving through a dream, Rob blinked. He raised his hand in front of his face, staring vacantly at a bloodied palm. "Red."

Keira exchanged confused glances with the rest of the Party. "I...yes, Rob. Do you need to take a rest?" She hesitated. "Did something happen when you killed the Dragon Queen?"

No response.

Keep your composure, Keira told herself. This sometimes happens to fighters after a pitched battle. "Is there anything we can–"

"It's not really red, though."

Before she could ask Rob to explain, he kept speaking, his voice a dull monotone. "Not red, and not blood, either. Just a preset collection of mana and atoms, arranged in a specific way to evoke physiological stimuli. Like building blocks for the gods' playpen. The anarchy of creation, beaten into shape, reduced to input with intended output, to statistics, information, data. This substance...this world...it's all numbers."

Blue motes shimmered in the air. A longsword appeared, clenched in his red-soaked hand.

"You're all numbers."

Danger Sense screeched.

There was a flash of motion. Too swift for Keira to react. Pain seared as she was sent flying away, landing in a heap next to assorted chunks of Ragnavi's entrails.

People were screaming now, their voices frantic and fearful. Dazed, Keira attempted to push herself up – only to stumble as soon as she tried. It took the Warrior a bewildered moment to figure out why.

Her right arm was missing.

A peal of unhinged, demented laughter cut through the veil of shock obscuring her mind. Keira lifted her gaze to see Rob bodily tossing aside Sylpeiros like an unwanted sack of potatoes, the Seneschal thrown dozens of feet with a casual flick of the wrist. With his other hand, Rob used his blade to parry a sword strike from Zamira, only needing to devote a sliver of attention to repel the fastest member of their Party.

Keira grit her teeth as she got a good look at him. Rob was...she refused to call it smiling. That would have desecrated the word. Rather, the expression on his face was a portrait carved from the depths of insanity itself. His lips were stretched up to their breaking point, and his eyes gleamed with profane jubilation, as if there would be no greater pleasure than snuffing the light from the world.

That's not him.

The thought rang true with undeniable clarity. That face did not belong to the man she loved. It wasn't Rob who had spoken to them – and it wasn't Rob fighting them now.

Riardin's Rangers moved to stop the puppet, aiming for nonlethal areas with whatever weapons and Skills they had left. But even if they hadn't been handicapped by their consideration for a friend who was not himself, it wouldn't have mattered. 'Rob' was somehow faster than when he'd fought the Dragon Queen, delivering immobilizing sword strikes and rendering people unconscious with hilt bashes to the head. He darted around like a blur of force, efficient and ruthless.

Their entire Party was dismantled within seconds. Keira had barely regained her bearings by the time it was all over.

...We should be dead. She gripped the stump of her arm to staunch its blood loss. It held back. Longsword was a handicap. Could have easily punched us to death. Rob is resisting–

Her hopes were stifled as Leveling High stepped beside Vul'to's unmoving body, its blade held high. The puppet's head turned to look at Keira, chuckling at her dismayed expression. "Need to savor these revelries," it explained, with a voice of soft cruelty that sounded familiar but wrong. "Make them last."

She didn't even have time to cry out in vain before the sword descended.

CRACK.

It collided with Rob's raised left arm, sinking through flesh yet halted by bone, the blade instantly snapping in two.

Leveling High stared at its arm with utter bafflement, as if the limb belonged to an alien creature. Its other arm started to tremble, clutching the broken longsword as strangled noises of terror began clawing their way out of his throat.

"R...ru..." The puppet's body awkwardly walked away from its incapacitated allies, each small step seeming to require herculean effort. "Run...go...please..."

Keira did the opposite, dashing straight towards what had become Rob's voice. Like hell I'm going to–

Her approach was thwarted by Leveling High throwing its broken sword at her head. The jagged lump of metal flew so quickly that she was scarcely able to dodge in time. Even then, it still clipped the top of her left ear, shaving off a portion of meat and bone.

Rob let out a choked groan over what 'he' had done. He dragged his fingernails down his face, scoring deep red lines that drew trickles of blood. The sounds coming out of his mouth oscillated between manic and piteous with every moment. He was struggling – perhaps even losing.

But he hadn't lost yet.

"Fight it!" Keira shouted, not knowing what else to say. She was woefully unprepared for this type of battlefield. "You're stronger than it is! Remember that your friends and allies are right here with you! Remember that I love–"

She cut herself off, freezing as Rob moans of agony rose in pitch. Her affirmations had just made things worse. He turned away, seemingly unable to bear looking at the wounds he'd inflicted upon everyone.

Stop. Keira had to force herself not to run closer. Agitating 'them' with her presence wouldn't help matters. Stay calm. Think. Words are the only weapon that might prevail here.

The Warrior grimaced. Although they aren't exactly my area of expertise. Outside of Intimidation, anyway. I'd be more useful if I was better at–

Inspiration struck like a thunderbolt. Keira immediately reached into the traveling pouch at her hip. Her eyes widened as she retrieved her radio, miraculously undamaged. It had survived being stepped on by Ragnavi when a good half of her bones very much hadn't. The device must have been stored at precisely the right angle to avoid being crushed.

It was a gift of providence that she would not waste. Keira activated the radio in a hurry, painfully aware that Rob's struggles were getting weaker. "Diplomacy! DIPLOMACY! ANSWER!"

One second, two seconds – "Hello?" they replied, causing relief to surge in Keira's chest. "Is it over? We saw the Dragon Queen fall out of sky–"

"Leveling High overtook Rob!"

There was a brief silence filled with a thousand unspoken words.

"I see." Gears were turning within Diplomacy's mind. "Is Rob...still in there?"

"Yes – and fighting."

"Then let me speak."

Keira held the radio out like a sacred shield, moving it as near to Rob as she dared. The Human paused, then reluctantly turned back around, his eyes swimming with a myriad conflicting emotions.

Diplomacy didn't hesitate. "You're going about this all wrong, Leveling High."

It was only through practiced self-discipline that Keira quieted her tongue. She came dangerously close to demanding why Diplomacy was addressing Rob's curse instead of the man himself. Even Leveling High appeared perplexed, tilting its head with naked curiosity writ on its features. "Explain."

"You'll never achieve our endgame at this rate," the former Skill continued. "You do recall what that is, yes?"

"Killing the gods," the puppet body rasped.

"Right. And if you slaughter all your allies here, that particular task gets rather...difficult. More than it already will be, I mean. To put things into perspective: without Riardin's Rangers at your side, would you have slain Ragnavi or the Blight? As both of them have proven, it's not impossible for godlike beings to fall when isolated. You'll wind up the same if you march into the gods' realm alone."

Leveling High frowned. A touch of lucidity entered its voice, like a paper dam holding back a flood of madness. "I broke the Level 99 limit. My strength will far outpace that of Riardin's Rangers."

"That's just more reason to keep them alive," Diplomacy asserted, taking it in stride that Rob had apparently fucking gone past Level 99. "The Amulet of Allocation lets you share the benefits of some Skills – including whatever you'll learn from here on out. Imagine a full Party bolstered by abilities that surpass even the gods' lofty standards."

Their voice lowered, any semblance of warmth replaced with cold, dispassionate utility. "Don't cast aside tools now that you'll need later. We'll only have one shot at assassinating the gods. To that end, I strongly recommend learning from our enemies' mistakes and delaying your gratification. Unless you wish to become another footnote in a long line of creatures that–"

Keira's radio exploded, showering metal scraps around her. Leveling High had sent a longsword shard flying directly through the device. She readied herself for an attack she couldn't realistically dodge...but the puppet simply licked its lips and narrowed its eyes, a brutal calculus taking place behind that sadistic glare. Its muscles gradually relaxed as it stopped to consider whether exhibiting restraint would truly be worth the wait.

In doing so, it had already erred. Keira wasn't sure if Diplomacy's argument would have ended up convincing Leveling High – that was never the point. The point was to blunt its zeal, even if just for a moment.

Allowing Rob the chance to reclaim a foothold in his own mind.

He gasped and fell back, his eyes coming to light with horror. Keira's spirits soared, but as she began to run towards him, Rob forestalled her with two shaky palms. "I'm..." His gaze swept across the battlefield, prompting his body to start twitching all over. "I'm not..."

I'm not in full control, Keira finished. He was still battling Leveling High for supremacy.

The sight of his friends lying motionless on the ground probably wasn't helping.

"This isn't your fault," she emphatically declared, hoping with all her heart that she was saying the right thing this time. "We don't blame you. It won't change anything. To us, you will always be Rob."

Keira put on a smile that somehow didn't feel forced. "And when you win this fight – which you will – we'll be waiting to greet you with open arms and bright faces. This, I swear."

He didn't seem to hear her. Rob bowed his head and muttered two grief-stricken words, his voice no louder than the last gasp of an Elder on their deathbed.

"I'm sorry."

A flash of blue light shone out as Rob cast Waymark.

Then he was gone.

--

It was an odd sensation, Keira mused, to win every battle and come out feeling as if you'd lost.

One hour had passed since Rob...removed himself from the premises. Riardin's Rangers awoke shortly after he departed. They licked their wounds, dried their tears, then used a spare radio to contact Diplomacy and let everyone else know that the danger was – for now – past.

Despite how much the Party wanted to rest, there was one job to do before the other alliance members returned. Riardin's Rangers split up, one team hurrying to retrieve Elder Alessia's remains. The second team rushed over to the hole in reality that Rob had bashed open when he made his entrance. Understanding the risks, they ventured inside, hoping that Elder Duran had simply been left behind for his own safety.

None were surprised by what they found.

The two Elders were buried side-by-side soon after. While interring them in the Deadlands seemed a poor way to honor fallen allies, Keira doubted that Duran or Alessia would have minded. Neither had held much love for any specific nation – making their mark on uncharted ground was fitting, in a way.

There were other soldiers to bury as well, but Riardin's Rangers elected to leave that decision up to the alliance members of their corresponding territories. That line of thinking meant Keira was less prepared than she should've been for the alliance's arrival. Rather than it being a somber reunion, the surviving soldiers greeted her with cheers of gratitude and relief. They weren't concerned about absent allies or last rites; only that their champions had prevailed once again.

Keira felt obligated to smile as people of all nations thanked the Party up and down, their praise washing over her like a bitter breeze. In truth, she really didn't want to hear any of it right now. Not even observing the soldiers' amusingly awestruck expressions when they saw Ragnavi's corpse had been sufficient to uplift her mood.

She knew she should be grateful. There were no lasting injuries within Riardin's Rangers, and the other alliance members had managed to stabilize the wounded survivors of Ragnavi's betrayal. On this day, a mortal coalition had felled two tyrants, one god and one demigod, both with the power to extinguish all life from Elatra. When viewed in such a manner, it made their casualties seem trifling by comparison. They should be overjoyed that anyone had survived.

It didn't prevent the victory from feeling hollow. She wouldn't feel right celebrating – not yet.

Her sentiments were shared by the rest of Riardin's Rangers. Currently, they were seated in a circle alongside Diplomacy and Seneschal Sylpeiros, having sequestered themselves from the alliance under pretense of 'official Leader business'. It was their little safe haven within the Deadlands; a place where they could stop and process everything that had transpired.

Keira welcomed the respite. Here, she wouldn't have to deflect any further questions from starry-eyed alliance soldiers. 'How are we going to make it home with so few rations remaining?' 'Now that the Blight is dead, do we need fear attacks from its spawn?' 'When is Lord Rob coming back?'

She flopped onto the ground. While her physical Stamina was yet plentiful, her mental stamina had just about reached its limit. After battling three impossibly powerful foes...Riardin's Rangers had earned this reprieve.

"There was never a right choice."

Naturally, Sylpeiros couldn't help but ruin it for them.

The Seneschal was sitting cross-legged, his body stiff as a statue, as if wrinkles of stress were being carved into his face with each passing moment. "The Human's sudden appearance was like an omen of ill tidings," he remarked. "At the start, I feared a second Cataclysm. Wanted to kill or contain him. Stop history from repeating itself."

His fists clenched. "Kenzotul told me otherwise. Said I should set aside my enmity. Choose the path of temperance, of letting the past be the past, of...of mending my ways. I did as he wished, swallowed my misgivings – and yet this is how things turned out."

A self-loathing grin crept up his face. "Should I have killed the Human when we first met in Dwarven territory? No, Purge Corruption was still needed. Then...when? Without him, we couldn't have defeated King Elnaril, or the Blight, or the Dragon Queen. It was supposed to be different this time. He promised safety for Elven territory. The future was..."

Sylpeiros shook his head, resigned. "Doesn't matter. All paths inevitably lead down the road to ruin." His gaze shifted towards Ragnavi's corpse. The mouth of her draconic head was partway open, as if about to burst into mocking laughter. "I merely traded one calamity for another."

"Shush," said Malika.

A moment of strained silence went by. Like a rusted hinge, Sylpeiros slowly turned his head to face the young Archmage. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm trying to concentrate," she huffed, "and you're making a scene." Her attention was focused solely on the stolen sliver of divinity. "Need to study this mana signature. It's our way to the gods' realm. Have to be ready for when Rob gets back."

Sylpeiros pursed his lips. "I don't think you fully comprehend the situation we are in, girl. When Rob gets back, he shall slaughter the lot of us like pigs at a butcher's shop."

Keira sighed. As entertaining as it would be to watch Malika verbally lambaste a territory Leader, the Archmage already felt guilty that she hadn't been around to help when Rob lost control. The fact that her presence wouldn't have changed anything was irrelevant. She needed a goal to blunt the sharpness of her remorse, and getting distracted by Sylpeiros wouldn't help with that.

"Seneschal..." Keira began, cutting in. "Do you think us to be toddlers, haphazardly grasping for truth? We know what Humans are capable of. Not a single person here was unaware of what might happen if Rob continued to gain Levels so rapidly."

"Then you've fooled me well. In your countenance, I see none of the panic or dread that should be there – especially from a Warrior with just one arm."

"Only for now. Rob has a Skill that will help me regrow it."

"And you think he'll do that instead of putting you to the sword...why, exactly?"

"We trust him more than we fear Leveling High," Keira plainly stated. "It's as simple as that. Whether it be in a day, a week, or a month, we know he will overcome his curse and return to us."

The Seneschal peered at each member of Riardin's Rangers in turn, finding unwavering faith and resolve burning in their gazes. Upon confirming that they all felt the same as Keira, Sylpeiros winced, resembling a parent about to inform their child that the family pet needed to be mercy-killed. "I was barely conscious when Rob fled with Waymark. Right before he vanished, I tried to Identify him one last time...and succeeded."

He averted his eyes. "Leveling High progressed to its final stage – that of Complete Madness. No Human has ever regained their sanity after succumbing to those depths."

"You can't be sure of–"

"What killed Elder Duran?"

His question landed at their feet like a crate of Firebombs. When he was answered by a pained, tenuous silence, Sylpeiros pressed on. "It is possible that a Blightspawn slew the Elder, or that he perished during our battle with the Blight, but his wound looked inflicted by a sword."

"Cease your insinuations," Keira interjected, before the idea could take root. "That is one thing that Rob would never do. I find it far more likely that Duran fell to a surprise Blightspawn ambush, and that his death loosened Rob's composure, giving Leveling High the opportunity to slither past his defenses."

She only half-believed what she was saying. The others hadn't mentioned it, but Keira still remembered the Status Effects she'd glimpsed on the Party Screen.

'Guilt (Unbearable), Self-Loathing (Agonizing)'

Rob was the type of person to blame himself when people died under his watch, especially those he cared for...

But to that degree?

Keira violently shoved her uncertainty aside. Her role here was not to doubt. "And if he truly was a mindless beast," she continued, "then why did he leave earlier? Shouldn't he have massacred us at that very moment?"

The Seneschal hesitated. "I...perhaps."

Sensing weakness, Diplomacy pounced. "It should be noted that due to the abnormal nature of Rob's soul, Leveling High may not interact with his mind in the exact same fashion as other Humans. I've never heard of it directly talking through a person – like his body was a puppet used as an external mouthpiece. If there is a greater degree of separation between Leveling High and Rob's soul, then our chances of freeing him are higher."

That was an idea Keira actually hadn't considered. Rob didn't have a soul before the gods brought him to Elatra, and until now, his shoddy integration into the system had caused numerous problems. But if that discrepancy resulted in him being able to more easily separate himself from Leveling High...well, she might be tempted to make the gods' deaths less painful.

By a fraction.

Sylpeiros stared at Diplomacy with undisguised suspicion. "You seem to possess fascinating knowledge on the nature of souls, Belria. Especially regarding the Human's. Why is that?"

"Oh, that's because I was once Diplomacy." The former Skill smiled brilliantly. "An arrogant Soul Surgeon plucked me out of Rob's head and stuck me in a new body. I'm living proof that aspects of the system can be removed from his mind."

The Seneschal's mouth fell wide open. "You...that's...I...what..."

After several seconds, he snapped to attention, as if waking from a fleeting dream. "You will not distract me with revelations! Even if your notion holds merit, it is just mere supposition – and I don't intend to test it with my life. What guarantee have you that Rob will resist the compulsions of Leveling High when he meets us again?"

"What guarantee was there that we would defeat the Blight?"

Zamira stood up, ensuring that everyone's eyes were on her as she began to speak. "What guarantee was there that we would defeat the Dragon Queen, for that matter? Or King Elnaril? Or any of the other absurd trials that we've faced on our journeys. You weren't even present for the Corrupted Leviathan or the multiple aberrant Dungeons. Then there's how we negotiated peace treaties with the Fiends, unlocked the secrets of language, led a coalition of nations, voyaged to the edge of the world...just one of those accomplishments would have been the legendary, singular exploit of a centuries-old veteran. We've already done so much that I can't remember it all off the top of my head."

She locked eyes with the Seneschal. "If you cannot put your trust in Rob, then trust in our Party's capacity to achieve the implausible. We wouldn't still be standing here today otherwise. I have faith that he will overcome Leveling High on his own – but even if he can't, that is fine, as he isn't alone. When Riardin's Rangers fight as one, anything and everything is possible."

Zamira drew her sword and pointed it towards Ragnavi's mangled corpse. "The monarchs and deities laying dead at our feet should serve as evidence of that."

It was the kind of speech that only worked because of the person saying it. Keira knew that if she had attempted the same, it would have come across as argumentative at best, disingenuous at worst. With Zamira, they all knew her words came from the heart.

"Unsound logic," Sylpeiros grumbled, clearly trying his damnedest not to feel inspired. Zamira said nothing else, waiting patiently as the Seneschal put his thoughts in order.

After letting out a long sigh, he modified his expression into the pragmatic mask of a Leader. "There is a more pressing matter to tend to – our food supplies are running perilously low. How are we to escape the Deadlands without some people starving?"

The change in subject was hardly subtle, but Keira chose not to comment on it. "We have contacts stationed outside the Deadlands," she began. "They can have mages teleport to their location, learn the mana signature of our location, teleport here, and finally transport everyone to safety."

Keira gestured towards Malika. "In order to teleport to this area, the mages will need someone who can share its mana signature. I recommend that we send our highest-Dexterity soldier – in other words, Zamira – on a mission to carry Malika eastward. When unhindered by the logistics of marching with a full army, the two of them should be able to traverse the Deadlands in much less time."

It wasn't a perfect plan. If powerful Blightspawn yet existed within the Deadlands, Zamira and Malika might find themselves in a precarious situation. Regardless, it was still better than watching as alliance soldiers withered away, having triumphed over towering odds only to perish to a dearth of basic necessities. One-by-one, the others nodded, tacitly agreeing with Keira's plan.

Except for Malika. "That's workable," she mumbled, ever-focused on the sliver of divinity. "Although it would be faster if I teleported straight to Fiend territory and brought the mages myself."

Now it was Keira's turn for her mouth to fall wide open. "You can cast teleportation magic?"

"I was part of a Mage Circle where they cast dimension magic. The principles are the same. Additionally, I have witnessed them utilize teleportation magic on many occasions."

"Wait," Orn'tol interrupted. "So you haven't attempted teleportation magic yourself?"

Malika raised her free hand, gathering mana within. "Not before today."

"Then–"

"Archmage." She stated her title as if that was the only explanation required. "It's who I am, and it's what I do. Be back soon."

Just like that, she disappeared in a burst of mana, leaving a stammering Orn'tol behind.

The rest of Riardin's Rangers went to console him over the difficulties of managing a willful sibling. Sylpeiros took advantage of the minor chaos to pull Keira aside for a private conversation. She begrudgingly allowed it, knowing that he'd be sulking for days if he didn't get this last thing off his chest.

"Speak candidly," the Seneschal began, once they were out of Heightened Senses range. "Do you honestly believe that this endeavor will turn out as you wish, and that Rob will throw off the shackles of Leveling High? Remove your affection for him from consideration – I know you are capable of that. What chance of success does he have?"

Keira thought carefully before answering. "I can't say," she admitted. "He's always been phenomenally resilient when it came to opposing Leveling High. But..."

"But no one truly knows what the future will bring," Sylpeiros added. He shook his head in confusion. "Then...why? Why this blind faith that borders on delusion?"

"Because while I might not know what the future brings, I do know this one thing for certain." Keira grinned. "If I don't trust him now, when he needs me most, then I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

However long that may be, she thought, as her stump itched.

--

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