Issac awoke to warmth and the sound of gentle breathing. His recently-healed wounds throbbed dully across his chest; he was certain that the injuries would scar. Part of him wished these would be the only scars he'd get, but that wasn't very likely.

The storm outside had come to an end. Not having to brace himself against pelting sands would make travelling back home much easier than expected.

As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, Issac froze. Even though he had lost a large amount of blood, yet his body still reacted the same way that a teenage boy would, this close to a woman.

Issac tried to pull himself away from Panne. Her eyes snapped open as he started moving. He gulped as her ruby orbs peered into him.

"You are awake." Her nose twitched, and Issac scrambled backwards. He remembered how aggressive she was when they first met after his first slip up.

"Y-Yeah." He hissed as he hit the ground, his back wound flaring with pain as it threatened to open again. "I'm sorry‒I didn't mean‒I shouldn't have‒"

Panne looked at Issac impassively. "It does not bother me. Your body reacted how it naturally would."

Issac stood, his legs still fairly shaky. "Yeah, but… After everything humans did to your people, I still shouldn't‒"

"Be attracted to a Taguel?" Panne's ears twitched at the boy's nervous nod. "It was not intentional on your part. You are not trying to force yourself onto me. There is nothing for you to apologize for."

Panne's gaze drifted to the horizon, already putting the conversation from her mind. The make-up of the dunes had shifted from the storm, but her senses would not be so easily hindered.

"Your village is within three days of walking distance." Her eyes fell to Issac's injuries. "Four, given your condition."

Issac's nerves finally settled, relieved that his companion didn't take offense to his biology. "I won't slow you down."

Panne's ears twitched again, in a way that Issac was starting to understand was amusement. "Your drive is noted."

As the pair began to step away, Issac turned back in the directions of the corpses they battled on top of the previous day. Amazingly, Ellie's parents were still visible above the shifted sands.

"Panne?" The Taguel paused at his question. She tensed when she followed his gaze. Issac shuffled back to the bodies he had been searching for the past week. He returned a few minutes later, a bronze medallion in one hand and an iron sword in the other.

Without a word, the pair walked across the shuffled sands. Panne saw the tension building in the boy's shoulders with every step they took towards his home. Still, he didn't hesitate, and they crested the first of dozens of dunes on their return journey.

True to Panne's word, it took the pair four days exactly to reach Graycott. Issac's scars pulled at his skin with every stumble, his face tightening with obvious irritation. His cloak added an extra layer of discomfort; Without his shirt, his oversized cloak brushed against his pinked skin nearly every step. That sensation faded with time, but it was still a raw wound.

At night, Panne silently pulled him into her strong arms to protect themselves from the biting desert nights. By the third morning, Issac had gotten over his embarrassment at his body's reactions; Panne was so nonplussed by it that he couldn't find it in himself to feel shameful anymore.

Panne's nose twitched on the fourth sunrise. "We will arrive at Graycott by midday. I smell smoke and wood on the wind."

Issac mumbled an acknowledgement. His thoughts drifted to Ellie, who was undoubtedly waiting on him to deliver good news. When the village was in sight, Issac hesitated.

"I will be with you," Panne declared. "When you tell the village girl what happened."

Issac blinked. "Really? Thanks, but…" He searched for words that wouldn't change her mind. "Wouldn't being near so many humans make you uncomfortable."

"I gave you my word," Panne said. "I would not depart before you delivered your message."

Issac's hand clenched around the locket in his pocket. "Thank you."

The pair made their way down the main street of the village. The people of Graycott paid them little mind, too lost in their own misery to care about the entrance of strangers.

Near the center of the street, a young girl ran towards them. Dirty blonde hair whipped around her face. Issac felt his chest tighten when he saw the hopeful smile on Ellie's face.

"You're back! Where are they?" Ellie's gaze shifted from Issac to the older woman beside him, confusion on her face. "Th-They're coming back home, right?"

With a trembling breath, Issac knelt to the ground, now eye-level with Ellie. "I'm so sorry." His heart twisted as he saw tears welling in her eyes. "There was a fight on the border, and your parents… Adrian…"

Numb fingers pulled out the bronze medallion, Issac holding it towards the girl. "This was all I could bring back. Your father would've wanted you to have it."

"You promised." Ellie's tears never fell. Her face turned cold, the venom in her words making Issac freeze. "You promised you would bring them back. You're just like everyone else. They're dead because you weren't fast enough. Weren't strong enough."

The girl glowered at the object in his hand. "Keep your trophy. I never should have believed you." Ellie whipped around, moving towards Verona's makeshift orphanage.

Issac stayed kneeling on the ground long after the girl had gone. When the sun reached its zenith, he stood. Then, he started walking.

Panne watched the manspawn move aimlessly throughout the winding streets of the village. His face was perfectly neutral. Humans would never be able to see past his facade, but she could smell the misery and loathing rolling off of him in waves.

Eventually, the manspawn wandered into an abandoned building on the outskirts of the village. No scent was present inside the dwelling, including his. Clearly, distance from the village girl was the only thing on his mind.

Issac dropped the medallion on an empty barrel at the side of the room. It was only when the home's decrepit door closed that his mask began to crack. A single tear streamed down his face, then a second. His shoulders shook, yet not a sound was made.

For the first time, Panne's wall of indifference wavered. She did not know how to comfort manspawn when they were in distress. Silently, she awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder.

That touch was the final blow to his restraint. He buried his face into her side, clutching onto her like a drowning man to driftwood.

"I'm sorry!" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a stream. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry! I couldn't do it! I'm too weak, I'm too slow, I'm useless!"

Panne wrapped an arm around his shoulders, trying to settle his emotions. Instead, every touch just made the manspawn child cry harder. When she moved them to sit on the straw bed, his tears fell from his chin and onto her lap.

They sat together like that for hours. Issac's tears stopped when the sun dipped below the horizon, exhaustion finally overcoming his grief. When Panne laid him down on the bedding, his weary eyes held a rawness to them that made something inside the Taguel squirm.

"I will return." The words left her mouth before she realized she had spoken. She couldn't entirely regret it, though. Not when his face held something besides worry or misery for the first time in several days.

"Promise?" Panne nodded, watching him finally move away from the undisguised anguish that clouded his face as he fell asleep.

She watched him until his breathing had settled into the pattern of his normal sleep. The Taguel silently slipped out a broken window, making her way deeper into the desert towards her usual hunting grounds.

Why would I say something so foolish? I care nothing for the plight of a manspawn child. Even as she thought that, however, her mind recalled the desperation in his voice when he asked for her help. His willingness to share food with a stranger who had tried killing him not five minutes beforehand. The despair on his face when faced with the chilling rejection of that girl. He smelled of fear, of loneliness.

It was a scent that clung to Panne ever since her warren was slaughtered.

As the cooling sands gave way under her transformed weight, so too did a small piece of her hatred. She would keep her promise. The boy deserved that much.

Issac groaned as he stirred awake. Dried tears formed streaks on his dusted face, and his back ached from sleeping on an unfamiliar bed. As he sat upright, he noticed a flashing box in the corner of his vision. Focusing on it, another red screen popped in front of his face.

Quest Completed!

You have found villager Ellie's parents. They may be dead, but at least you lived to tell the tale!

Bonus Objectives: Avoid turning Panne into an enemy (complete), Survive a Risen attack with Panne (complete).

Rewards: Improved relationship with Ellie, 1500 EXP, Friendship with Panne unlocked.

Congratulations! You have leveled up twice!

Tier 1, Level 6

HP: 9+2=11

Strength (STR): 4+2=6

Magic (MAG): 1

Skill (SKL): 3+1=4

Speed (SPD): 5+2=7

Luck (LK): 7+2=9

Defense (DEF): 4+1=5

Resistance (RES): 4+1=5

Attribute Points: 2+2=4

Improved? How was yesterday better than how it could have gone? His patron's nonresponse was a stark contrast to the usual quips he received.

Issac couldn't stop the small smile from forming on his face, however, when he saw the other rewards. Panne's promise to come back wasn't a figment of his imagination, after all. The very real possibility of the Taguel returning was a balm to his aching heart. The next time she saw him, he wouldn't be nearly as helpless.

Thoughts of his power finally brought Issac to his improved level and stats. He felt faster, stronger, sturdier than before. At least he gained some strength from his most recent quest. Plus, he had four attribute points to spend. Issac needed to figure out where to put them; shore up his weaknesses, or embellish his strengths?

Eventually, he decided to meet himself in the middle of the extremes. More health would always be important in any fight he found himself in. Thinking over his performance against the revenants, Issac couldn't stop himself from grimacing; outside of his lucky strikes to the Risen's heads, most of his attacks didn't land anywhere near a vital spot. Two points in health and skill (now at 13 and 6, respectively) would balance his fighting style, further cementing the foundation of his martial skills.

"There you are!"

Issac jolted, his thoughts scrambled as he saw Verona standing in the doorway. Stress lines covered her face, only slightly fading as she took in his condition. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"I was so worried about you!" She hugged the boy tighter. "When Ellie told me what happened, I thought you left the village. Thank the gods you're still here!"

Issac's breath hitched when Verona mentioned Ellie, the memory of her scathing words slamming against him with lethal force. He squirmed, suddenly feeling trapped in the woman's arms.

Verona held him by his shoulders, her concern growing at Issac's behavior. "You should come home."

"Can't." Issac's voice was hoarse, his throat still tight from his breakdown the previous night. "She hates me. I need to stay away."

"What? But it's not your fault! Surely she wouldn't‒" Issac pulled himself out of her grasp, silencing Verona's protest. Understanding dawned as she saw him looking everywhere but at her.

"I need some time alone," Issac said, shrinking himself by folding his arms against his chest. "Please."

A minute passed in silence. Issac tensed, seeing Verona stand in his peripheral vision.

"I'll bring your things here. All of my rooms are full now, anyway." His shoulders dropped at her acceptance, relief flooding the Plegian youth. He gave Verona a fragile smile. It was the best he could do. Thankfully, she didn't push, nor did she tell him she was right from the beginning. She didn't have to.

Months passed. Days grew longer as winter's end slid into a brief spring, followed quickly by a scorching summer. The shorter nights were a blessing; Issac was given more time to prepare. More time to train, to purge the weakness from his body. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford.

Tier 1, Level 8 Villager

HP: 14

STR: 7

MAG: 1

SKL: 8
SPD: 12
LK: 11
DEF: 7
RES: 6

Attribute Points: 0 (spent on Speed)

Weapon Skills:

Axes: D-Rank (10%)

Lances: E-Rank (85%)

Swords: D-Rank (25%)

Bows: D-Rank (50%)

And if a certain conversation continued replaying in his head, he could just blame Eidetic Memory.

"You look half dead! Which is super boring, by the way. You aren't bleeding nearly enough to look that bad!"

Issac couldn't stop his eyes from rolling. Henry had found his village a few weeks after he had started visiting the training field just outside of Graycott. Apparently, he was some of the best entertainment a dark mage could find outside of his academy. His macabre sense of humor meshed pretty well with Issac's pragmatism, even if most of the jokes were at his expense.

"Oh, I have an idea!" Henry pulled out a red book, faintly glowing just from being held in the older boy's hands. Issac recognized it as a fire tome, the most basic level of magical prowess available across both continents.

Issac held back a groan; it had been three months since Henry had tried teaching him how to use magic. So far, he hadn't been able to make anything besides a puff of smoke. "Henry, I don't think that's really up my alley…"

Henry actually pouted. "Don't be such a downer! Being able to cook a person will make killing them that much easier."

"Henry," Issac said patiently. "I'm not running around and killing people for the fun of it."

"Details, details." He waved a casual hand in his younger friend's direction. "The reason doesn't matter. Dead is still dead."

Remembering how much of an impact the pale mage had in all of his playthroughs of the game, Issac slowly took the proffered book from Henry. The faint glow had disappeared entirely as it left the mage's hands, an almost mocking reminder of his pathetic magic stat.

That didn't seem to matter to Henry, though. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his eyes closed in his perpetual smile. "Perfect! Now, channel your magic and set something on fire. Preferably something flammable; maybe the village has an empty house?"

Deliberately walking away from the pyromaniac, Issac moved towards one of the training dummies planted in the cracked earth. The wooden puppet was completely dried out, a perfect target for the fire that wouldn't set his home alight. Issac thrust his hand towards the dummy, imagining it spontaneously combusting.

A cloud of gray smoke came into existence, quickly blown away by the stiff breeze.

"No, no, no. Not like that." Henry clicked his tongue in disappointment. "You need to use your imagination! Think of somebody you want to see burn into cinders more than anyone else in the world."

Huffing, Issac closed his eyes. Eidetic Memory sifted through his mind, plucking one that he had visited on a regular basis.

Purple claws raking across his chest. Three beasts surround him, trying to make him join their ranks in the afterlife. Hooded eyes boring into his soul, seeking to tear it away from his body.

Fury filled Issac. His perk allowed him to perfectly replicate the hatred he felt for the undead monsters that had nearly killed him. The book in his hand glowed dully, Issac finally felt like he was on the edge of a breakthrough. He thrust his hand out once more, commanding his enemies to burn!

A shower of sparks emanated from his palm, landing harmlessly on the sand around his feet.

Alert! Casting magical spells is not permitted for The Player!

What? Why?!

Reason: Entertainment Value

If I raise my magic stat, then I could‒

Raising Magic using Ability Points is prohibited.

You're kidding. Is it that entertaining for you to keep me as a muggle?

Correct! Magic is the ultimate cheat code. I can't be entertained if you use spells to do your dirty work for you!

"Oh, that was hilarious!" Henry howled with laughter, Isaac's ears reddening more than his meager spellwork. "That spellbook is an all-access, beginner friendly tome! You wouldn't make it past the first day of baby magic school."

Apparently, Henry finds it just as hilarious as my patron. Figures. Issac walked over, dropping the borrowed book on Henry's chest. It just made him laugh harder. "Shut it, pyro. I have other ways to fight."

"It is a good thing that is the case, manspawn."

"Panne!" Issac sprinted towards the woman at the edge of the training ground, his embarrassment forgotten as he wrapped his arms around her. Tears, happy ones this time, filled his eyes as he embraced her.

"You came back." It had been nearly seven months since he had seen her. He had started to worry that she wouldn't have remembered to return. Seeing her soothed the knot that had balled inside his stomach.

"I promised." Panne lifted his arm, frowning. "You are too thin. You should eat more."

"That's what I've been telling him!" Henry bounced towards the pair, hands clasped behind his head. "You can't commit murder on an empty stomach. You'd be the victim, instead."

Panne released Issac's limb, regarding the dark mage with the wariness Issac recognized from their first meeting. "And you are?"

Issac held Panne's wrist, hiding his surprise when she didn't pull away. "Panne, this is Henry. He's a little more violent than most people, but he's a friend."

Issac turned to Henry, hesitating as he scrambled for words. "Henry, this is Panne. She's…" A friend? Mentor? Companion? He didn't know how much she was comfortable sharing with a stranger.

Fortunately for him, Panne had taken the initiative. "I am Taguel." She gave the pale mage an intense once-over. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Henry, if anything, grew even more excited. "Taguel? In the flesh? Amazing!" His eyes opened in genuine wonder. "I thought you people were all dead. Looks like those Ylisseans weren't as thorough as they thought!"

Panne's lips twitched in what may have been a ghost of a smirk. "Indeed." She stared at Henry, reassessing. "You have been teaching the manspawn magic?"

"Mhm!" Henry's body trembled with excitement. "Although 'trying' would be a better word. Issac can't even function as a match."

And now he's making fun of me. "Come on, that's not fair. I'm not that bad at it."

Panne's ears twitched. "Your display a moment ago showed otherwise."

Issac gaped, Henry breaking out into guffaws again. "Panne! Not you too." The woman's smirk made him groan into his hands, his entire face turning scarlet.

Once the novelty of being the butt of the current joke passed, Panne regarded him more seriously. "I meant what I said. Manspawn children should not be so thin."

Issac huffed, gripping the handle of his training axe tightly. "We aren't exactly rolling in gold, Panne. Food's pretty hard to come by. Same with teachers."

"What about Gregor?" Henry nudged Issac's shoulder. "He seemed pretty committed to training you. Think he'll make a reappearance?"

Issac scoffed. "Doubtful. Graycott's in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing here to bring him back."

Thoughts of Gregor popped into his head just then. Issac wondered how the mercenary was doing. What would he think of his former apprentice's progress so far? Would he be proud? Disappointed? Somewhere in between?

Panne shifted, leaning slightly towards the pair of boys. "Who is this 'Gregor'? What sort of manspawn is he?"

Issac caught the curiosity in the taguel's tone. "He's a mercenary. And my first teacher. Saved me from the aftermath of a bandit raid, helped me and Henry take out a bunch of bandits in a cave system outside of town, and drilled me on the basics of my weapons."

"So he was the foundation of your strength." Panne hummed, and Issac could see the gears turning in her head. "You seek guidance. I may be able to provide that."

"You're gonna teach him to fight like a taguel?" Henry's head whipped between Issac and Panne, giddiness infecting his tone. "He'll be a real monster, then!"

"He won't be able to fight as a true taguel." Her eyes hardened as she glared at Henry. "But there are some things he may be able to learn, should he be willing to put in the appropriate effort."

Issac inhaled sharply. "You… You're serious. You really want to train me?" Panne's affirmative hum only served to confuse him. "But why? I know you don't like spending time around humans if you can help it."

The Taguel's wrist twitched. "Because you will need all the strength you can get. I will not always be near to keep you from dying."

"Yeah!" Henry said. "If you hated my reaction to seeing you attempt magic, you'd loathe Tharja's! She would mock you to death. I've seen it happen; not enough blood for my tastes, but it was still super entertaining!"

Cataloguing the knowledge that Henry had already met Tharja, he sighed. "You're right, Panne. I'm kinda hopeless right now. Thank you for giving me a chance."

Panne's eyes narrowed into slits, nearly mimicking Henry's permanent facial expression. "I said you require more strength, not that you lacked it entirely." A finger prodded Issac's forehead. "You have done what you could with the resources available to you. I am merely offering more."

A lump formed inside Issac's throat. He swallowed, forcing the blockage back down. "How often can you come?"

"Not consistently," Panne admitted. "Once, perhaps twice, a month. Whenever my hunting routes take me down this path."

Even that much guidance was more than he could have asked for. "I'll learn everything I can."

Another twitch from Panne's lips. "Good. We start now."

In an instant, Issac found himself flat on his back, his feet knocked out from under him.

"Your stance is too narrow," Panne watched Issac groan as crashed to the ground, the sand cushioning the impact. "Keep your legs further apart. It will be harder to lose your balance."

Issac stood, ignoring Henry's cackling. "Got it. Let's do it again."

This time, Panne actually smiled. "Good answer."

Henry left in the waning hour of sunlight, stating a necessity to keep his attendance at the academy from dropping too low. After a final dig at his inability to use magic (I swear, if he replaces my name with 'Sparky,' I'm gonna kill him), Henry ruffled Issac's hair, much to his irritation, skipping into the desert.

Panne had stayed a while longer, her warmth a comfort against the approaching night. They stood in companionable silence for a time. Issac enjoyed the presence of another person being around for so long; Verona tried, but she was a constant reminder of Ellie, of his failings.

As if sensing his train of thought, Panne spoke.

"You still think of her. The manspawn child."

Issac sighed, sitting down on a broken section of the palisade. "Every day."

Panne frowned. "Her words still affect you. Your scent grows sour when she enters your thoughts."

Issac grabbed a well-used cloth, wiping away the dust and grime from the handles of his weapons. "She was right, you know." His hands jerked as he encountered particularly stubborn bits of sand on the hilt of his sword. "I was weak. I wasn't strong enough then. I'm still not strong enough now. I don't deserve her forgiveness."

"She was wrong." Issac's neck popped at the speed he faced Panne. "She is younger than you. And hurting from the loss of her warren. You were simply an outlet for her anger. It is easier to hold anger towards you, for failing to return her family, than to herself, for waiting within the safety of the village."

Issac shuddered, emotions bubbling just under his skin. "I'm an obvious target because it makes sense. If I had been faster, then I‒"

"You and I would not have met. You would have found the bodies alone. You would have faced those dark creatures alone. You would have died. Alone."

The sheer certainty of Panne's words pierced Issac's stream of self-pity. A dozen revenants, all focused on him? A child who struggled to kill one of them at a time, who almost got killed against three?

She's right.

"You're right," he repeated aloud. "But I hate this feeling. I feel so…"

"Powerless? Ineffective? A waste of food, water, and air?" Issac's furrowed brow softened Panne's posture. "That is how I felt when the manspawn across the mountains slaughtered my warren."

Issac sucked in a sharp breath, cursing himself for forcing her to relive such awful memories. "Sorry," he mumbled, finishing his paltry weapon maintenance in silence.

Panne put a hand on his shoulder, the action immediately grabbing his attention. "I did not share such memories to make you feel guilt, man-child." The Taguel grasped Issac's other shoulder, kneeling to be eye-level with him. "I shared because I wished for you to understand that I felt the same when I was your age."

"I…" Issac trailed off, pulling together his disjointed thoughts into something coherent. "I don't know how to move on, Panne. I still see their faces when I close my eyes."

He leaned against her side, surprised and grateful for her permission to get closer. "How do I keep going?"

Panne lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her to absorb her next words. "You continue your training. Grow stronger, faster, smarter, until nobody can make you feel that way again."

"Which," she said, preempting the response that Issac had been about to say. "You are already doing. You need time to grow into your strength, just as I needed time to grow into mine."

Issac slumped, his arguments finally defeated. "Okay, okay. You're right. Again." A yawn escaped him. "Thanks, Panne. You really know how to help a guy out…"

Panne watched Issac drift off to sleep, still leaning against her shoulder. Doing such a thing with her, giving her trust over his safety, despite the fear that a manspawn should have towards her…

She lifted Issac into her arms. Carried him to the same building she consoled him in. Placed him on his patchwork bed. Watched him rest soundly, possibly for the first time since her last visit.

When Panne left the village this time, she made a promise to herself; she would return as often as she was able. Issac's genuine appreciation for her training, her stories, her presence, eased a burden that she thought would remain burrowed in her heart for all her days. Perhaps manspawn were not as hopeless as she originally thought.

The evening rays of sunlight stretched across the sands, its fading warmth still enough to keep the frigid night temperatures at bay. Once inside the crevasse in front of him, however, Issac would be kept warm by the rock and sand walls. It was the perfect place to hunker down for the night if one was lost in the Plegian desert.

Issac wouldn't be alone in the cracked ground; he could see hints of flame dancing across the edges of the stone walls. Nearly thirty men were scattered throughout the narrow fissure, a handful of tents pitched around a central fire. He could hear their coarse laughter from his hiding spot, which was over two hundred feet away. Clearly, they didn't care about being spotted.

A stealth mission? Finally, something interesting!

Issac jammed a fist into his mouth to stay silent, his heart racing a mile a minute. Jesus Christ, man! Nine months of the silent treatment, and this is when you pop back in?

I hate training montages. Do you know how many times something interesting happens in training arcs? Not even once!

Realizing he was standing, Issac flattened himself to the ground, crawling towards the tear in the ground. Well, consider this a break in the 'filler' content. I'd like to live long enough to see the 'Baby's First Car' milestone, thank you very much.

But there's no cars here.

You know what I meant. Pointedly ignoring the amusement his patron was no doubt feeling at his heart's erratic beating, Issac took several calming breaths. He needed total focus in order to succeed in his task.

A week ago, Issac finally saw the shipment of goods Graycott was allocated every month. Four hundred people would devour all of the food in two weeks, if they ate normally. Verona barely held her tears while the platoon from General Campari's army refused to dole out any additional supplies.

If their fields were any good, they'd be able to make do. Years of poor rainfall and poorer irrigation dried the few fields that Graycott managed to protect. No wonder so many people were half-starved and hopeless. Something had to be done.

Fortunately for the fifteen-year-old, he was doing something to help. Plegian 'patrols' roamed the countryside, snatching up as much food, clothing and valuables as they could carry. It was always written off as maintaining morale, but Issac heard more than a few derisive comments from villagers who had arrived from other places. If they were to be believed, the 'resupplying' was just a way for certain portions of the army to further fill their coin purses. Nobody had any such comments towards Mustafa's troops, much to Issac's relief.

A few areas, like Graycott, had so little that they were below even the brigand's notice. Which meant he could try his hand at being a thief without putting Verona, Ellie and the others back home at risk.

Two men sat at the edge of the crevasse, the heated stone on their backs lulling them into a light slumber. Issac grinned; now was the time to move!

Recalling Panne's lessons on silent movement, Issac went down on all fours and slowly inched past the guards. Spreading out his weight across his entire body made each touch against the ground that much softer. Now that their revelry had ended, the area was nearly silent, save for the snores of soon-to-be hungover men.

Issac scanned the dwindling campfires. Large pots were held above the flames, keeping their food warm for the coming dawn. His earlier estimation was wrong; there were already thirty men sprawled around the ground, and that didn't account for anyone inside of the tents.

Staying low to the ground, he slipped around the backside of the tents. He poked his head through the tent flaps (none of the tarps were tied or weighed down securely, thankfully), adding another eight men to the tally. Most of the tents were small, only large enough to hold the men's cots. These men were either the more talented or favored members of this band. Regardless of the distinction, Issac let out a small gasp as he spotted a slightly familiar figure.

Observe.

Garrick, the Plegian Brigand.

Garrick, the Plegian Brigand.

Tier 2, Level 10

HP: 40

STR: 25

MAG: 4

SKL: 16
SPD: 18
LK: 7
DEF: 14
RES: 3

Issac's hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. This was an opportunity ripe for the taking. Garrick would launch an attack against Southtown in just over three years. If he killed him now, hundreds of people could be saved…

Think, you idiot! Even if Issac were to kill him, that wouldn't guarantee the Southtown's safety. Gangrel would just send someone else to attack. Even worse, he could choose another target altogether. Somewhere without Shepherds conveniently nearby to come to the rescue.

A slight hiss was the only sound that Issac let escape. Now that his moral crisis had passed, he needed to continue his self-appointed mission. On the opposite side of Garrick's tent were a trio of chests. The two on the sides were made of worn oak. The one in the middle was a pristinely maintained iron chest, easily twice the size of the containers flanking it.

If Issac felt lucky before, he felt like he just won the lottery when he saw a keychain with exactly three keys hidden under Garrick's cot. He stayed low to the ground as he reached for the small ring. Panic flooded him when gravity made the keys jingle as they swung in the air. Garrick grumbled unintelligibly, turning to face away from his treasures.

Sweat slid down Issac's back. Even slower than before, he turned to face the chests once again. The smallest chest, at least three feet across, held massive bags of dried beans, noodles, and a few bags of flour. The chest on the left was stocked with jerky from several different animals.

The smell was salivating; before he could stop himself, Issac had shoved three of the sticks in his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed. The gnawing hunger finally shrank to a more tolerable level.

Inventory. The supplies inside the open chests disappeared.

Finally using your storage space, eh? That's pretty creative!

I'm not limited to five item slots, this time around. All that remained was the metal chest in the middle. Issac inserted the golden chest key, and turned.

The chest didn't budge.

Sweat pooled in Issac's hands. He turned the key again. No luck. When he pulled the key out, he noticed a piece of the key had chipped off. Bandits really didn't take care of their things.

Issac forced himself to stay calm. He had Locktouch for a reason. He palmed two pieces of metal, working quickly and quietly to unlock the final chest.

Come on, you piece of junk, work with me here. Several minutes passed. Issac froze with every grumble the bandit captain made behind him, slowing his progress considerably. Just when he was about to give up, he felt something give. The light chk just reached his ears.

Damp palms held the chest latch, revealing a treasure trove: a dozen vulneraries, three elixirs, half a dozen bottles of Roseanne wine, and several heavy sacks of gold. Some of the sacks were raised above their companions.

Curious, Issac lifted the higher bags of gold. A pair of thick, sturdy books were exposed to the night air, as well as a much smaller box. Issac opened the small box, which held a silver ring with a small sapphire embedded within.

Observe.

Ring of Magic Resistance: A ring of minor protection against spellwork. Damage taken by magic is reduced by 15%.

Tomes of Potential x2: A pair of magical tomes that prodigious mages can write their spells in. The books have no innate magic stored within, so they will require more mana to cast than standard spells. In exchange, however, the power of a spell scribed on its pages will double in power, growing stronger with its user.

Score! Now I know why Gaius loves pulling his heists. Even as he mentally tallied the total value of what was held within, however, Issac knew he couldn't take everything. If Garrick lost his food, drink and funds for his crew, he would go on a warpath. And that doesn't take into account the incredibly powerful magic items.

That didn't take the larger military and political forces into account, either. The Grimleal would take note of such a large theft happening right under their noses. Even the regular army could be a problem. Despite the derision‒rightly earned, in Issac's opinion‒held towards Garrick and his men, they were still an arm of the military. They would be within their rights to further reduce supplies to the outlying villages in an attempt to starve out the perpetrator.

As Issac contemplated his next move, his eyes drifted towards the foreign wine. Maybe something in this chest could disappear.

Garrick woke in the morning, his head throbbing as a hangover slammed against the back of his eyes. Maybe downing half of the wine bottles wasn't such a good idea.

Still, he wouldn't let a headache ruin his mood. He led his boys on a glorious raid! Another gaggle of helpless merchants weighed down with foreign goods, a month's supply of food, and unspent gold was just the win he needed to remind the boys why he was in charge.

Thoughts of his rewards drew him towards the three chests. He reached down to grab his key chain, frowning when he didn't feel the key ring normally hidden under his cot.

Bah. Probably shoved in a corner somewhere. Good thing I got this little beauty! Inside his pocket was a master key‒one that could be used for all three of his treasure chests. Crouching in front of the box keeping his jerky safe, he slid the key inside.

The lock didn't move.

Dread filled his chest. No. Impossible. Beefy fingers opened the chest, the previously filled box now littered with crumbs across the bottom.

Fury built as he opened the other two chests. The beans! The flour! Chon'sin noodles! All gone.

And the wine…

Garrick stomped outside, his men stirring uncomfortably awake in the face of their own hangovers. Around the center pot, bits of food littered the campfire. Flour had spilled over the sand, the bag burned in the coals underneath.

"Who took the bounty?!" His underlings froze at their boss' fury. They shot to their feet, cursing as they staggered their way upright. "The food! The wine! It's all gone!"

Garrick glared at the men around the central fire, stopping as one of them was covered in red stains. On top of his clothes.

He choked the man, the scent of wine turning his vision red. "YOU!"

The victim tried speaking, but the hand around his throat made that nearly impossible. "What… captain… please…"

Garrick threw a wild punch that sent the perpetrator crashing to the ground. "You stole my keys. Drank my wine. Ate our food. That's betrayal." A wolfish grin revealed his yellowed teeth. "And you all know what we do to traitors."

The tanned man scrambled backwards, hitting the rock wall behind him with a pained 'oof'. He looked to his comrades, terrified at the rage that matched their captain.

"Wait, please! I don't know what's going on. I didn't do anything!"

An axe squelched as it crushed his rib cage. The man's vision blackened, his last sight being his former comrades taking his weapons and walking away.

Miles away, Issac finally felt safe enough to stop looking back. The past several hours were full of paranoid glances backwards and careful foot placements to avoid leaving a trail. The ground he walked across alternated between hard rock and vegetation, leaving few, if any footprints to be followed.

He did it! He actually managed to pull one over on his "fellow citizens." The food, the booze, the magical items, and a small portion of gold from each sack of coin in Garrick's iron chest was his to claim!

Secret Quest Completed!

Wait. What?

Congratulations on completing your first secret quest! There are several actions that, when accomplished, will grant The Player significant bonuses.

Secret Objective: Pull off a heist.

Bonus Objective: Don't arouse even the smallest amount of suspicion.

Rewards: 5000 EXP, Opportunist PERK unlocked.

Opportunist: Great reward requires great risk. But that's not an issue for you! Gain the ability to see weak points in an enemy's stance.

Congratulations! You have leveled up twice!

Tier 1, Level 10

HP: 14+2=16

STR: 7+2=9

MAG: 1

SKL: 8+1=9
SPD: 12+1=13
LK: 11+2=13
DEF: 7+2=9
RES: 6+1=7

Attribute Points: 0+2=2

The surge of power washed over Issac in a now-familiar wave. He did something right. No hiccups, no accidents, no fights for his life leaving him scarred (though he was almost certain that wouldn't hold for too long). Plugging the extra points into strength and skill further solidified that feeling.

Despite the euphoric rush, Issac didn't let his ego swell. Henry was older, more experienced, and likely more deadly with magic than he was with a bow. Panne could throw him around like a ragdoll, even with all of his gains. But, if he continued growing, then the difference in their strength will shrink over the next couple of years

Thank whatever God was looking out for him that his Inventory didn't need any sort of training. Garrick wouldn't miss the extra firewood, and he needed a somewhat reasonable way to explain how he carried everything in one trip.

Graycott was greeted by another exceedingly bright sunrise. The people, more weathered than the splintering wooden beams that formed their partially collapsed homes, saw something strange. A pale youth held a wooden crate above his head, walking with careful steps down the main road. His arms shook with effort, but he walked down the main street with a fire in his eye that gave onlookers pause.

Issac let the box down as gently as he could manage, but the wood still creaked dangerously. He swallowed, then knocked on the door.

A boy no older than eight greeted him, confusing both of them.

"You're not Verona," Issac said.

"Nope!" The boy flashed a grin, showing a slight gap in his front teeth. "I'm Javan. Why do you wanna talk with Verona?"

Issac patted the covered box, which came up to his shoulders. "I've got a special delivery. Tell her it's a thank you present for everything she's done for me."

"Okay!" Javan ran up the stairs, leaving Issac by himself in the entryway. The teen grunted, lifting the crate enough to move it inside the main living area on the bottom floor.

Everything was still the same: the kitchen table, all of the chairs, the fireplace and cooking pot, even the poorly hidden pantry were all exactly how he remembered. The only difference, Issac found, was the additional five sets of plates, bowls and spoons set up at the table.

At least Ellie and Verona have some company now. The jab to his heart was bittersweet, but thankfully brief. He made his decision. Things were better with a bit of distance.

He had a firm but weary smile plastered on his face as soon as he heard heavier footsteps come down the stairs. Verona stiffened at Issac's presence.

"Javan said you came back," Verona said. "I didn't believe him at first, but seeing you now…" Her eyes grew suspiciously glassy.

"I got you something." Issac slid his fingers under the crate's lid, ignoring the tightness in his throat. "Thanks. For taking care of me when I first got here. And for taking care of Ellie." Not wanting to see Verona's reaction, he yanked the lid off, revealing the pilfered food to the caretaker.

Verona fell silent, staring listlessly at Issac's delivery. His fingers tapped against his thighs, forcing himself to stay inside.

Her hand grasped Issac's shoulder, her thumb rubbing smooth circles around his shoulder. "You did this? For us?"

"I… yeah…" Issac, stalling, moved his gaze to give the room another once-over. Anything to give him something else to talk abo‒

"Is all that for us?!"

Six children, as young as six and as old as eleven, hovered at the base of the stairway. The group was rooted to the ground, afraid the food would disappear if they moved any closer.

Verona spun, wrapping an arm around Issac to keep him from moving. "That's right, kids! Issac was kind enough to find some merchants willing to part with their food. Isn't that right, Issac?"

The boy in question nearly winced at the nails digging into his side. "Yup! The merchants were very happy to be paid for their goods. Eat up, everyone!"

Hesitation broken, the gaggle of children swarmed Issac's crate, each of them grabbing as much food as their small hands could carry. Issac's gut twisted when he saw how thin they all were. Mixed with joy was a desperation that aged him ten years in ten seconds.

"What's with all the noise, Verona?"

Outside, a small crowd had gathered at the doorway. Men, women, and parents with their children hovered just beyond the boundary, many of whom were salivating at the sight of more food.

"We got lucky!" Verona ruffled his hair, pride in her voice. "Issac here found someone willing to conduct a business deal with him. Everyone is more than welcome to take some home."

With that, Verona's kitchen was flooded with people, all stuffing as much food as they could into whatever sacks they had. Those without bags tied their shirts into makeshift sacks. The amount of 'thank yous' Issac received in the next hour eclipsed every other occasion. In this life and the one before.

Issac wasn't hurt when Ellie stayed in her room. She clearly needed more time. As did he, if he were honest with himself. At least he could rest easy, knowing she wouldn't go hungry.

For the time being, at least. Already, Issac was planning out his next 'purchase'. He wasn't helpless anymore. He could actually make a positive change. Nothing would stop him from helping Graycott. He owed it to the people here to keep them safe, in whatever way he could.

And that's chapter 4! This one just flew itself onto the page. No fuss, no fighting, no slamming my head against a computer/desk/wall/pillow to make things stretch on for another six weeks. Things are looking up, and I can't wait to see how much smoother things can go from here.

If you're feeling generous, please feel free to leave a review. I'd love to know what you all think of the story so far, as well as any predictions of what direction Issac will go in.

Until next time, friends.