August Intruder- Chapter 67- Shades of Perception (Patreon)

It had been a while since Melmarc was confused. Worried. At least not by himself.

Internally, he was always confused. At the new way his mind worked. The way there were too many ideas yet he focused on a singular one. His recent insistence on punishing Jude for his actions. His observation of Naymond playing a role in the insistence on his punishment of Jude. His acceptance to negotiate on the punishment but only with Clinton.

Melmarc was constantly confused by his mind. But not by much of the things that happened outside his mind.

Like his interface.

[Melmarc Jay Lockwood, based on your mastery of skill Secrecy you have proven efficient in 0 skills. Would you like to evolve skill Secrecy?]

[Yes/No].

Melmarc stared at the notification of his interface for the third time with worry.

It had been a while since he and the others had left the ruined building. They’d walked ever since, never hurrying, never rushing. He’d told them that they could get to the castle quickly if they went at a running pace, so he knew they were aware of it.

So there had to be a reason they’d insisted on walking. In his mind he could pick a few. They could argue that Claire was a healer and would not be able to catch up with their average speed or that they wouldn’t want to tire her out. They could argue a similar reason for Naymond.

Melmarc could easily counter both arguments, though. He could carry Claire while Nelson could carry Naymond. The tanker was definitely big enough—and arguably strong enough—to not be hindered by Naymond’s weight.

You could also carry Naymond while Nelson carried Claire, Melmarc thought.

There was already a steady answer to that thought. He could, but he would rather not. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be the most annoying running experience he would ever have.

Naymond would have things to say and he would say them. Some of them would leave Melmarc trying not to be confused. Some of them might even end up confusing him. Sending him into a different line of thought wasn’t something that was beyond Naymond’s ability. How the man talked a conversation into a loop hole only to leave you being the only one in the hole was as impressive as it was annoying.

So, no. He would rather not carry Naymond.

It left only one logical and strategic reason for their casual stroll in the dark night. Jude.

The stroll was most likely Clinton’s idea. Whether he’d given it as some kind of command while Melmarc had been hanging back in the building or something that they’d simply fallen into because he wasn’t running, was something Melmarc didn’t feel the need to figure out.

Ultimately, it seemed unimportant.

The deal was for Jude to be wounded for thirty minutes, he thought. Not for thirty minutes of fighting.

So, ultimately, this did not breach the agreement. If anything, it was a smart move from Clinton. Melmarc couldn’t fault a leader that took advantage of any loop hole they could find. It was an odd thing to note since he’d never been one for identifying leaders in groups and working with it.

Returning his attention to his interface, he frowned at the notification. Why did he have no skill he was proving efficient in? Was it because of [Secrecy] itself or was it something else?

He’d never heard of a Gifted who’d gotten no alternative skill when they experienced a skill evolution.

Did it make his case unique? After all, he’d also never heard of an August Intruder, either.

And Players are intruders people aren’t supposed to know about, apparently.

What was the possibility that there were actually people who’d experienced an absence of alternative skill? It wasn’t like they’d be happy to announce that they didn’t have one. They’d just choose the skill evolution that was left to them. And if they were never offered alternative skills, they’d just keep evolving the skill they had. To the rest of the world, they would just be Delvers and Gifted who’d chosen to specialize.

The night was illuminated by the stars in the sky. There was a moon, but while it was out and in the sky, it couldn’t really be called bright. It was full, and bleak. Like a dull white ball. But the few stars where bright enough.

It was an odd thing.

It’s a portal. Things walk around with bread pans for hands.

So with the light of the stars, the entire group walked, likely giving Jude a chance to heal. As for Melmarc’s interface, he only had one answer for it.

Yes.

If he was going to fight, it would be stupid not to fight with the best he had. And an evolved skill was definitely better than the state before it.

[Skill Secrecy has evolved.]

Melmarc stared at the notification as flickers of conversation happened two steps ahead of him. He’d hung back because of this. And while the others had checked on him with a few quick glances—including Naymond—no one had called him to join them.

He didn’t think he was being ostracized because of anything he’d done. If anything, they were just giving him some space for some other reason. He knew this because Naymond was doing the same. If Naymond hadn’t been a part of the silent glances, then he would’ve believed he was being ostracized.

As for the notification, it surprised Melmarc. He’d expected more words. Gaining a new skill usually had some kind of congratulatory effect in his short experience. But here he was simply being told the skill had evolved. No congratulations. No sense of achievement.

Anti-climactic was the best definition for it.

You have no idea what exactly the interface is, Melmarc thought. Were you expecting a parade?

Melmarc shook his head and moved the notification along with a thought. He was glad to find more information.

[Secrecy (Mastery 10.01%)(12.01%)].

Upon conclusion of [Rings of Saturn], focused mana is unbound and released

You cannot use other skills within area of skill’s effect.

Three blasts before every cooldown will be available.

+30% damage if effect is applied within a sentient life form.

Gifted has partial control of extremities.

Melmarc frowned at the last line.

There it was again. Control of extremities. It was the one part of [Knowledge is Power] he hadn’t figured out since it had reached ten percent mastery.

Still, one thing he was debatably certain of from seeing it on [Secrecy] was that it had nothing to do with the extremities of his body. So how did he control the extremities of the skill?

One thing was certain, he needed practice. And he knew just how to get it. But that left him with a tricky situation.

To practice the skill, he would need a test subject. If he waited until morning, he would be able to practice on a [Damned]. It would be killing two birds with one stone. He would understand the skill better and gain more [EP].

But was he willing to make a detour for such a reason?

I could always just ask them if they could help me out, he thought.

But it would delay the entire thing. Melmarc didn’t see it as any kind of delay. Caldath had waited twelve days, surely it could wait a little longer.

Twelve days to you. Not even up to a day to them.

Melmarc groaned. He needed to practice the extremities portion of the evolution. An extra blast of the skill was a nice inclusion but that was easy to understand. There was no point thinking much on it.

What he needed was the prac—

Melmarc paused. Then he ran a hand through his hair.

“You good?”

He looked up to find Naymond looking back at him and frowned.

“Is there a reason you’re on his back? He asked, staring at the [Sage] being piggybacked by Nelson.

He looked too comfortable in that position for a grown man.

“I told him you’d forgive him for tripping if he carried me,” Naymond replied with a smile. “He’s really a softy on the inside.”

Nelson grumbled something incoherent and Claire patted him on the shoulder in consolation.

Melmarc cocked a quizzical brow. He couldn’t help the action.

“What?” Naymond whined. “My legs hurt.”

“I need practice,” Melmarc blurted before he could stop himself.

Practice involved inconveniencing another group and Naymond had proven himself to be a good mediator. Perhaps he could find a way to get them to allow him practice on a [Damned] in a controlled area without them feeling inconvenienced.

Naymond’s expression turned serious at his words.

“Practice on who specifically?” Naymond asked.

Melmarc felt Nelson bristle.

Naymond patted the Delver on the shoulder gently. “Don’t worry, Nel. I’ll do my best to save you on this subject.”

Melmarc paused. “Not on them. Obviously.”

Naymond let out a low whistle. “Thank the gods for that. I swear it would’ve been awkward having that conversation.”

The others looked back at him with varying expressions. Even Jude. There was confusion. Worry, too. Claire looked at him as a doctor would a patient that wasn’t responding to treatment.

But at the heart of all the expressions was wariness.

Melmarc frowned. Naymond was making him look weird.

Maybe getting a mediator was not the best idea. Everything that was happening to him was still new. But while Melmarc felt he needed help, training wheels, so to speak, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to latch on to one so quickly.

Not all negotiations need mediators.

Once again, the practicality of his mind worried him. But he didn’t let it bother him. Instead, he thought of what he could do or say to get what he wanted. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry. They still had until the sun came up.

“Is it dangerous?” Naymond asked, careful. “This practical.”

Melmarc blinked. “I woul—”

“What the hell?” Jed swore.

“Fuck!” Jude hissed. He'd been looking up. “My eye!”

It was afternoon.

Melmarc hated the disorientation that came with the change. It was easier to deal with when he simply woke up to it. But blinking to find it was annoying.

“So it’s not dangerous?” Naymond asked. If he was fazed by the change, he didn’t show it. “Which means you can test it on me?”

That wasn’t what Melmarc was going for but Naymond was right. But did Naymond have any active skill he could test it with? He’d never seen Naymond use an active skill.

There was that thing he did to Nelson, he thought. Whatever that was.

Melmarc was suddenly curious. [Knowledge is Power] danced at the edge of his mind, and he’d almost simply activated it. It had taken him a moment of realization before he’d stopped himself. He was glad to have realized it just in time.

“Mr. Hitchcock,” he said.

“It’s tied to the [Damned],” Naymond answered.

Melmarc blinked. “What?”

“Sunrise,” Naymond answered. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but the nighttime here doesn’t have a fixed length.”

Melmarc nodded. It was kind of odd talking to a grown man on another man’s back. He was fairly certain there was something to Naymond being on the man’s back. He was beginning to doubt it was just because he wanted to mess with Nelson.

He had no reason to, after all.

Like you know the reasons he does anything he does.

“I noticed,” Naymond continued, getting the attention of the other Delvers, “that the sun comes up when one of the [Damned] wakes up.”

“I don’t think this falls under the category of coming up,” Claire said.

“Yea,” Jed grumbled. “The thing just popped out of nowhere.”

“Bright and annoying,” Jude said. He had a hand to his face. Standing behind him, Melmarc had no idea what he was doing.

Seeing as he’d complained about his eye when the sun appeared, Melmarc guessed he was likely rubbing his eyes.

“Now, I’m not sure how exactly it works,” Naymond continued. “I don’t know if it’s the first [Damned] to wake up that its linked to or a specific [Damned].”

“What if they all wake up at the same time?” Melmarc hadn’t seen a sleeping [Damned] before. Then again, he had always done his best to sneak off into a safe building somewhere and avoid them.

The last thing he wanted to do was discover that they could see in the dark. A fight with one in the dark night would kill him for sure.

It took Melmarc a while to realize that Naymond still hadn’t said anything. And everybody was looking at the [Sage] except Nelson who still had him on his back.

Naymond paused, looking at everyone. “I actually hadn’t thought of that.”

Expressions changed to surprise all around and Naymond shrugged.

“I don’t know it all, you know?”

“Sorry,” Claire said. “It’s just… the way you talk…”

“The way I talk?”

Clinton nodded. “It’s confident and misleading. It’s easy to think there’s nothing you haven’t thought of.”

Melmarc knew the feeling.

“Anyway,” Naymond continued, returning his attention to only Melmarc. “You wanted to say something before the sun so rudely interrupted you.”

Melmarc expected to pause, to take a moment to try and remember it. He didn’t. What he’d been about to say came to him smoothly. Maybe a little too smoothly.

“I was going to ask if I could borrow your skill,” he said.

Jed almost tripped up. It earned him a confused look from Claire.

“Kid’s really a Faker?” he asked, looking at Naymond.

Melmarc was confused. “I told you I was a Faker.”

“I thought you were just lying and your teacher was just backing you up.”

What the hell?

What kind of kids did Jed know that he assumed they’d lie for no reason? It only made sense that he was lying if he was a Skin Walker. And seeing as they’d accepted that he was not, he had no reason to lie.

“Actually,” Claire said, sheepish. “Me, too.”

Clinton raised a hand. “Same.”

A groan came from the side and Melmarc turned to it. Jude had his hand raised, groaning in pain. Jed was currently assisting him to walk.

“Same,” Jude managed to say.

“Big guy thinks the same.” Naymond patted Nelson on the shoulder.

Melmarc thought it was odd that Jude had been the one to shoot him but Nelson was the one acting like he’d done the unforgivable.

At this point Melmarc was almost walking side by side with the rest of them. If they didn’t think he was a [Faker], then what did they think he was?

“Why would you think that?” he asked, doing his best to ignore his urge to practice. Oddly enough, it was working.

He’d expected his urge to practice to end up being one of those things he wouldn’t have been able to shake off until he’d sorted it out.

“For starters,” Clinton said, “I felt you just wanted to keep your class a secret.”

Under normal circumstances Melmarc would’ve understood that. But that would’ve applied if they believed he was a [Faker] and thought he wanted to keep it a secret. Most people hid their classes for one of three reasons. Either because they had the [Faker] class, they thought their class would be useless and thus they would be undermined because of it, or they thought their class was a big deal and didn’t want all the attention.

“Personally, I was expecting you to be a [Mage],” Jed said.

Melmarc was only getting more confused. “Why?”

They were far down the meadow now. More and more ruined buildings were coming into view and they currently walked past one of them. The team watched it absently as they passed it.

Melmarc gave it a simple glance. It was the building where he’d taken a blow to the chest. It had been so long ago. His hand touched his chest.

So long ago.

“Well,” Jed said, looking away from the building. “I figured you had to be someone important if The Blight was calling in favors and his wife was a panicked mess. The government doesn’t play with their [Mages]. All the extra secrecy about it was another give away.”

“I could’ve been an S-rank,” Melmarc pointed out. They were past the building now, on to the next as they walked.

“I actually thought you were an S-rank [Mage].” Clinton put his hands in the pockets of his pants and shrugged. Then he took them out almost immediately, as if it was a habit he was fighting.

Claire chuckled. “Why?”

“Did you see his wife when we arrived?” Clinton shook his head. “She looked like she was standing between life and death and death was being a little too chummy. The government doesn’t play with Gifteds with the [Mage] class. But S-rank, too? They would have more than her job to set an example if they could.”

“What about me?” Naymond asked, pointing at himself.

Jed looked at him. “What about you?”

“They didn’t tell you guys anything about me, either.”

“You were probably unimportant.”

“That was mean.” Naymond turned to Clinton. “I’m not the only one that heard it, right?”

Jed smirked. He probably thought he’d finally gotten one on Naymond.

“He’s not entirely wrong.” Claire was still looking around, studying the buildings as much as she could while they walked. “Is that sapphire?”

Melmarc looked in the general direction. He caught a hint of blue at the top of the building. It sparkled very slightly just where one side of the ceiling had caved in. On the northside. Was it north?

He frowned. The cardinal points weren’t his strength. He knew them as easily as everyone else did. But place him in an open field and he wouldn’t know north from south. Back on earth he knew them, though. He had taught himself to learn where was where with the direction of the sun.

The sun rose in the east and set in the west. So he knew where the points were in the morning and in the evening. In the afternoon when the sun was at its peak, and in the night when the moon replaced it, he was uneducated on the directions again.

Here, the sun didn’t rise. It simply appeared at its peak. And who was to say it set where it was supposed to set?

“But she mentioned me,” Naymond said. “That has to count for something.”

“It did.” It was Nelson who spoke this time. “It made us think you are the reason she’s in whatever mess she’s in.”

Naymond paused, thoughtful. “I guess that’s as right as it’s wrong. So I forgive her.”

Clinton gave him a surprised look but said nothing.

“Anyway,” Jed continued. “I guess Alfa’s really as nice as everyone says if she’s jumping through loops and having her husband call in favors just to get you out of here.”

Naymond snorted as if amused. “Definitely.”

Dissonant.

That was surprising. The [Sage] didn’t believe Alfa had done this out of some goodness of her heart? Why was that?

Because of dad?

Melmarc remembered how Naymond had spoken of his parents. His dad to be specific. He had spoken of him as if he’d spoken of someone truly powerful. Unmatched. Was Alfa also aware of who his father was?

She hadn’t acted like he was anything special when he’d arrived at the precinct, though. And she hadn’t given him much in the way of attention when Naymond had been giving him menial tasks.

If she’d known, would she have allowed him go on the delivery mission?

Melmarc doubted it. Somehow it didn’t speak to what he thought of her. Naymond had once made a comment about knowing who Melmarc was when he’d told him that they should start addressing themselves by their surnames.

He didn’t know who I was when I joined, too, Melmarc concluded.

Naymond being who he was, Melmarc wasn’t surprised that he’d found out and had still sent him out for the mission. But Alfa wouldn’t have sent him if she’d found out. Which meant…

She didn’t know.

Even teachers treated students with important parents as if they were fragile eggs in high school. He doubted Alfa would’ve treated him like some random mentee if she’d known. That pointed in one direction.

She found out after we got here.

Then she’d called in favors or had her husband call in favors. And here they were.

Who are you, dad?

What had Naymond called him, again? An Oath. Melmarc had known the title most of his life, but it seemed he hadn’t truly understood it. Even with the snippets of explanation Naymond had given him, there was still much he didn’t know. Naymond had even admitted to not knowing much.

He scratched his head.

“That’s quite the thoughtful expression you have.”

Melmarc turned and found Clinton looking at him.

“You really shouldn’t be thinking too much about anything,” Clinton continued. “At least not about anything in the portal. We’ll get you out in perfect condition. You have nothing to worry about on that. Just point us in the right direction until we get to the wall, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Smooth sailing,” Claire said. “You can trust us.”

Naymond nodded on Nelson’s back. “I agree. They all feel like trustworthy people.” He paused. “Not Jude, though. Jude looks more like he’s going to get you home in more pieces than one.” He looked down at Nelson, patted the large man on the shoulder. “If he starts moving funny, shoot him.”

Something about Naymond’s words didn’t sit right with Melmarc. It was nothing out of the ordinary for the [Sage], but there was something off about it.

Whatever it was, Naymond needed to stop it.

“Mr. Hitchcock,” Melmarc said as amiably as he could muster, yet he noted the neutrality in his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Lockwood?”

“Stop it.”

His voice drew attention to him. Everyone looked at him. Even Jude. They all stopped in their tracks, surprise coloring their faces.

Jed turned to Naymond. “What’s the relationship between the both of you again?”

“I’m the surrogate mother hen,” Naymond answered smoothly.

Dissonant.

Melmarc held back a frown. Was this what his life was going to be now? Listening to his mind call out any lie he heard, even the ones he obviously knew were lies? That sounded like it was going to be stressful.

He hoped it would change as he increased the completion of [Optimum Existence].

“So you’re saying the kid always talks like this?” Jed asked. “Cold and collected?”

Naymond nodded. “Can be a stick up the butt, right?”

“And you just put up with it?”

“I don’t put up with it. I was doing something wrong and he stopped me. It’s really that simple. You might not have noticed but I do the wrong things a lot.”

Jed rubbed his jaw. “I guess that makes sense.”

“But he’s been relatively normal since we left the building,” Claire pointed out.

Clinton agreed. “He was actually different when we met him, and when we were in the building. And you kind of just jumped between us in the conversation back there.”

Was there some kind of tension building? Melmarc wondered. Were they about to start suspecting him for something else again?

He wouldn’t hesitate to strike first this time, though. Being stuck in a repeating cycle of suspicion and having to prove himself wasn’t something he was going to be caught up in.

Jed’s eyes narrowed at Naymond. “Is he some important kid?”

Melmarc wasn’t sure what was about to happen. I guess its better to be an important kid than some new kind of monster.

“Is he some rich kid,” Jed pressed. “Are you his butler.”

Naymond snorted in amusement. “I wish. But, no. Not his butler.”

And just like that, whatever tension Melmarc had been feeling washed away. But there was a take away from this that he was happy to note. Whatever had been happening to him wasn’t taking over him entirely.

At some point he had been acting like a normal boy his age. That was good. Maybe whatever was happening to him because of [Optimum Existence] was like a skill, triggering under certain conditions.

As the conversation lulled back into silence, they passed more buildings. Melmarc recognized most of them. He’d spent the night in some of these buildings. Fought in some. Run from some.

Most of the buildings here would have the corpse of one or two of the [Damned] in them. But he hadn’t limited killing them to inside buildings.

They passed another building. This one was a bungalow, and while it had walls on this side of it—the front side—Melmarc knew that the entire back wall had been blown out. He’d met it like that. And on that side of the house was a corpse.

[Rings of Saturn] had unarguably been the best thing to happen to him since entering the ruins.

“So I can I?” Melmarc found himself asking as they walked.

“Can you what?” Clinton asked. “If it’s about trusting us, I assure you that you can. You have my word.”

Melmarc bristled at that. It was the oddest sensation. He had no reason to trust the man’s word. Not after everything that had happened. But he did.

Why? He thought.

The answer came to him almost immediately.

Because if he breaks his word, you will punish him for it.

Melmarc cringed at his own thoughts. He’d never felt so arrogant before. He would punish the man for it. How?

I’ll find a way, he thought. He’s just B-rank. It’s not like he’s A-rank or something.

Melmarc would have to talk to his mom and dad about all this. Whatever he was going through, it was definitely nothing that happened to a Gifted normally.

Nothing I’ve been going through is normal.

Melmarc didn’t think sixteen-year-old boys got shot at, fell into a portal, and had some cute looking chibi with a terrifying mouth touch their chest and talk about them rising to power. Nothing that was happening to him was normal.

“Not that,” Naymond said to Clinton, then turned to Melmarc. “Sure you can.”

It was an incomplete sentence, but Melmarc knew he’d been given permission. So he activated [Knowledge is Power].

“Brace for impact,” Naymond said.

[You have activated Knowledge is Power]

Everyone stiffened at his words, growing suddenly alert. Melmarc caught a few of them reaching for their gun, even Nelson with Naymond on his shoulder.

The static white of mana burst out of Melmarc.

“What’s happening?” Clinton asked, gun held up at the ready. He moved his hands, aim changing, head on a swivel. “What’s coming?”

“So sorry for the alarm,” Naymond apologized. “Something’s coming, it’s just not that bad. I’ve just gotten used to calling it out like that.”

“So what’s coming?” Jed asked, lowering his gun. He’d raised a side arm, a simple handgun.

“A feeling,” Naymond answered. “For me it’s a bad one. Very uncomfortable. But you get used to it, though.”

Everyone waited, maybe two seconds.

Clinton turned to him. “I don’t feel any—”

The blast of mana came back, phasing through them, returning to Melmarc.

Clinton leveled a frown on Naymond. “Can you explain to me why I feel like someone took my wallet when I definitely didn’t bring a wallet?”

“Sorry,” Melmarc apologized, remembering how he’d felt the first time someone had told him what his skill had felt like.

It didn’t necessarily make him feel like a thief, but it did make using the skill feel wrong in some way. Not enough to make him stop using it, though.

In front of him, everyone’s indicator was a soft green. Jed’s was grey and so was Jude’s. Melmarc had half-expected Jude’s to be red. It said something he wasn’t sure of that the man’s was grey.

One again, he wondered what criteria [Knowledge is Power] used to place people in their different category. Was it based on how he saw them or based on how they saw him? Or was it based on something else entirely. He saw Dorthna as a friend after all, as family, and he was certain Uncle Dorthna saw him the say way. Yet his indicator had been red with a hue of grey.

“Was that you?” Clinton asked.

Melmarc nodded, putting the notification he’d gotten on the conclusion on hold. Although something didn’t sit right with him. He knew all the skills he’d gotten, and [World of Insight] wasn’t one of them.

He was getting itchy. A chance to see another [Sage] skill was suddenly very interesting. But Melmarc doubted it was really an urge to see another [Sage] skill. He was more likely interested in seeing another of Naymond’s skill.

“That was…” Clinton trailed off in uncertainty.

“Definitely something,” Claire finished. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a [Faker] copy my skill before.”

“He hasn’t…” Naymond paused. “You know what. Never mind.”

Melmarc didn’t miss that. Claire assumed he had copied her skill and Naymond had wanted to correct her but had chosen not to. Why?

Did he think Melmarc wouldn’t want them to know? That it was something he wanted to keep a secret? Or was Naymond the one that simply felt that it would be better to keep it a secret?

“Kid doesn’t hit like a [Faker],” Jude said. Jed was no longer supporting him and he still had his gun—a machine gun—in his hands. But he stood awkwardly, favoring one side of his body.

His rib definitely still hurt.

Clinton nodded. “I agree. Fakers don’t fight the way he fought in the forest.”

“And he’s got a disabling skill,” Jude added. “I’ve never seen a [Faker] with a disabling skill.”

Jed turned thoughtful. “Maybe being a [Faker] won’t be tough on him when he’s older.”

“With skills like that, he’ll make a good Merc,” Jude said. “What do you say, kid? When you graduate from whatever prim and proper school you end up in, you could go solo. Be a Merc. The pay’s good. With combat skills like yours and an ability to copy, you’ll make money. I know a few guys so I could help you transition quite smoothly.”

That’s surprising. Melmarc stared at Jude. The man had a genuine look of interest on his face. Is this like his way of apologizing or something?

If it was, it felt wrong. It was on the wrong end of how apologies were meant to go. From what Melmarc knew, an apology started by saying sorry, not offering random services.

Still, he had forgiven the man already. Jude had already served his punishment for his crime so Melmarc definitely had nothing against the man right now. By that logic an apology wasn’t necessary, right?

But it wasn’t like he took the apology willingly, he thought.

How exactly was this supposed to work? How did you forgive someone for doing what they did after punishing them without their consent?

Melmarc pressed his lips into a thin line. How much of his skills were going to end up having some kind of moral greyness that came with using them?

“Stop trying to get the kid to be a Contractor,” Jed chided Jude. “All your lot do is go around causing trouble for everyone else. Besides, it feels like he’s on the part to being a responsible citizen.”

“How many skills can you copy at once?” Clinton asked. “Normally, I know your class should only be able to copy one.”

“I know a girl that can copy two,” Jude interjected.

“I’m guessing you copied something from Nelson when you joined us because you almost started hitting like a tank,” Clinton continued. “Then you must’ve copied Claire to heal her. Is your cool down that low or can you copy multiple?”

He sounded genuinely curious. Still, Melmarc hesitated.

“As his personal butler designated by his rich parents,” Naymond interrupted. “I would just like to point out that regardless of the current situation, that’s a bit of a rude question to ask a Gifted. You should know better, Eastwood.”

Clinton paused. “Sorry about that, Marc,” he apologized. “Your butl—tea—friend…?” He frowned. “Mr. Hitchcock is right. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” Melmarc replied. “It’s only normal that you would ask, given the situation.”

“An answer wouldn’t be bad, though,” Jed said. “Considering where we are and what we’re about to do, we should know what he’s capable of.”

“Brrr!” The sound left Naymond’s lips, sharp and hard. “Wrong! Your plan is for him to not fight at all. By that logic, you have no reason to know what he can do. You only need to know how fast he can run and how many hide and seek competitions he won as a child.”

Jed frowned at him but said nothing further.

There was a very brief silence that followed where Melmarc pulled up his interface to look at the skills he’d gotten.

[Skill Knowledge Is Power is concluded.]

[All stats are increased by +1.5.]

[Life forms detected: 6.]

[You have received 6 Potential buffs.]

[Sword of the Immortal (02.01%)]

The Gifted cuts a target at the same strength regardless of health.

[Fist of Thunder (Mastery 2.00%)]

The Gifted wraps their fist in electricity at a mana cost.

[Shades of Perception](Mastery 4.00%)

The Gifted achieves an improbable task in exchange for increased perception.

[Hand of Life](Mastery 1.08%)

The Gifted quantifies a target’s health in definable quantity.

[The Great Wall](Mastery 0.00%)

The Gifted stands his ground when in possession of a target.

[Stay Away From Me](Mastery 0.00%)

The Gifted keeps a target away from their personal space.

…

[Buff mastery is scaled based on mastery of skill Bless Your Kindness. Mastery of buff will begin reduction after ten minutes.]

[Would you like to select a Buff?]

[Yes/No.]

[Remaining time: 00:01:31.]

Melmarc had no idea which one belonged to Naymond. Personally, he had a feeling it was [Shades of Perception]. It was the only one that sounded Sage-y.

“Wait a minute,” Clinton said suddenly, turning to Naymond. “What’s an Eastwood?”

“What’s a what?” Naymond asked.

“You called me Eastwood. My name’s not Eastwood.”

Naymond made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t mind me. It’s a personal joke. I knew of a guy called Eastwood once, had your name, too.”

Clinton’s brows furrowed. “You knew a guy called Clinton Eastwood?”

“I think so.” Naymond paused in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say I knew him. More like I knew of him. I also wouldn’t say it was exactly your name. They just called him Clint Eastwood. He’s quite popular.”

Jed frowned. “Never heard of him.”

“Me, too.” Clinton said.

Neither had Melmarc.

Naymond chuckled. “I can’t really say I’m surprised. Maybe it’s just a me thing. At least he’s famous to the group of people I hang with.”

Then he paused suddenly, head turning back to Melmarc as if he’d just realized that Melmarc was listening.

His words were preceded by one word.

Dissonant.