Chapter 207 (2/2)

This is part 2 out of 2 for this chapter.

Chapter 207

Aster came out of her reflection and spat. The ice cream had been fine, but the fourth and fifth lives they’d brought her to were less than stellar.

In one, Matt had died, leaving her all alone, which had been frankly awful. And while the Concept had changed and been about making her as strong as possible, turning her fur to literal ice and using it as a way for her Talent to leverage its might against her own flesh, she hadn’t liked living in a world with Matt dead in it.

No, that had not been fun.

In her next life, she had never gotten the fruit of perfection, and had, for some reason, gone almost feral, which was frankly insulting of Minkalla to suggest. Even without the fruit, she had been a perfect lady, even if she had chewed on a shoe or three.

With one ice cream left, she hoped it would be a good one.

***

Aster flicked her tails and sent a stream of fox fire at the target that tried to run away and snickered at Frank, who dodged all the illusionary fires and ran directly into the real one.

She didn’t let the fire burn too long, but did allow him to get singed before she flicked her tail and dispelled the illusion that they were training in.

Frank whined, “Miss Aster, why can't we practice longer?”

Flicking him with one of her tails, she berated him. “You started out well, but by the end of the training, you spent more time trying to look at my butt rather than watching my tails. Distractions like that will kill you in a real fight if you aren't careful.”

The boy blushed down to his neck, but she ignored it.

He was young, and hormones were raging through him like a tempest.

She could forgive that.

She couldn’t so easily forgive the sloppiness of his technique.

Stopping him at the door, she caught his eyes and said with her best teacher voice, “Work on your sword forms. Especially seventeen, eleven, and forty three. Do each of them two hundred and fifty times, instead of the normal two hundred each. I can tell from your lack of progress that you were slacking on those.”

He tried to interrupt, “But Miss Aster, I—”

She cut him off with a stern voice and a dismissive flick of her tails. “No buts, mister. If you want to graduate, you need to work harder. As a third year, it's frankly embarrassing how little you’ve progressed this last semester. Even the second years are starting to catch up to you.”

Softening her tone, she poked him between the eyes with her long finger. “I know you have a lot going on at home, but if you don't focus up and buckle down, you won't be able to change anything.”

Seeing his eyes shift down to the ground rather than her butt, she asked. “How are things at home? Last I heard, your father was stable and just waiting on a higher Tier healer.”

Frank sighed. “Yeah, but mom is getting worse by the day. She barely eats, and she hasn’t gone to work in the last week. And…” He paused and looked around nervously. “And people are coming around looking for money. I’ve had to get a part time job to cover the expenses.”

Aster narrowed her eyes at that.

She knew Frank's father had gotten hit by a curse and was in a coma, and that his mother was taking things badly, but she also knew that she and the headmaster had ensured that all of their bills were being deferred until his father was able to get back to delving.

There shouldn't be anyone sniffing around Frank and his mother for money. No one legitimate, at least.

Smacking Frank with one of her tails, she asked, “Why didn’t you say so earlier? You were there when the headmaster got your mother’s bills deferred. I know, because I was there as well. So why are you paying anyone anything?”

“They said that it was different, and my father owed them. And if we didn’t make at least some payment, they would have to take our things in repayment, and you couldn't do anything about it as it was a personal debt.”

Aster looked up and counted to fifteen, going through all ten fingers and then her five tails.

She begged anyone to give her patience.

Frank was a good kid, but clearly too naive.

“You should have come to me sooner, rather than taking things into your own hands. I could have brought this to the headmaster and he would have squashed this before it started.”

Dragging him to the headmaster’s, she had him explain everything, and the older man picked up his cane and asked Frank to lead the way to where he was told to deliver the money he earned.

As she and the headmaster suspected, it was just a local gang of wanna-be street toughs who thought they could take advantage of their strength and rob a down-on-their-luck family.

Almost instantly, a fight broke out, but with a flick of her tails, she was able to send most of the lower Tier gang members into a stupor, which allowed the headmaster to more easily subdued the ring leaders.

She, as a Tier 14, could have done the same, but with the Tier 20 as back up, they ensured there were no senseless casualties.

Looking to Frank, she gestured with one of her tails as her arms were crossed. “See. We could have handled this if you had said something earlier. The Corporations don’t tolerate such gangs doing as they please, and our Academy even less so.”

Frank looked both happy and crestfallen, so she tapped him on the head. “Now, I expect you to practice harder without such distractions. Three hundred of each form, as we have ground to make up.”

He tried to complain, but she threatened to increase it to three hundred and fifty, which finally shut him up.

She was leading him out of the building when she caught one of the guards flying in from the sky and jerked as she recognized the armor.

She knew that armor. A passive version of [Phantom Armor]. A cracked version.

Something about that seemed wrong, and she poked at that idea and felt a spike go through her brain.

After that moment of pain, Aster felt like her mind expanded as memories rushed in.

Aster, the fox, immediately took over Aster, the kitsune's body.

She had tails!

And fox ears.

That was fun, and she immediately knew she would be adding them both to her body from her life as Matt’s sister.

Though, maybe only one tail. It was better to have one perfect tail rather than a bunch of subpar ones. Really, this Aster needed to take better care of her tails, having illusions didn’t mean one could forget about proper fur maintenance.

She also found it interesting that she was living in the Corporations for this life, of all places.

Her Concept of this life was also interesting, as it was related to illusions.

She was impressed with herself in this life. Tier 14 by one hundred years old without huge amounts of assistance was quite impressive, but her kitsune life had managed it easily. By the same token, that had been incredibly dangerous, and she shuddered slightly with the realization of how close she had been to losing herself to the life, but the important thing was that she hadn’t.

Not wanting to have this life end just yet, she dove back into the reflection with the thought of not Tiering up to Tier 15 quite yet.

She wanted to incorporate illusions into her own ice eventually, and this was a perfect chance to learn about them.

***

Liz crushed yet another cup in her hand, letting it fall to the ground to accompany its broken brethren. The glass cut into her hand, but she dismissed the wound and the dreamscape healed her. That made two lives in a row she never wanted to think about ever again.

That white wine had betrayed her.

It was supposed to be easy going and pair well with everything, not… that.

That wasn’t her. It never would be her. It never had been her. That was someone else altogether.

It. Wasn’t. Her.

It was just a nightmare, of sorts.

A traitorous voice in the back of her head spoke up, asking if this was how she reacted to seeing herself in the mirror. It was a reflection, that meant it was her, right?

But no. Minkalla was a liar. The lives it showed were lies. Luna had even said they weren’t indicative of how she actually was. Probably warning her of exactly the things she had seen in the last two lives.

An image of a man half-burned, but kept alive by healing flames flashed through her mind, but Liz shook her head to clear it.

She just wanted to hug Matt and cry. To talk to her therapist, to just… anything, to get two vile lives out of her head.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

With shaking hands, she raised the final cup to her lips, and drank of the last glass of wine, bracing herself for something awful.

***

Liz was a noble. Nothing so noble as a princess, but a Viscountess through her parents' hard work.

Not that she was a Viscountess yet. She would need to reach Tier 20 to take over their title, and she was only Tier 11.

But she would be one day, and as everyone knew, foundations were set early.

Though her Talent may have been decidedly average, and her blood at that, Liz was never one to squander an opportunity presented to her.

Uselessness was merely a symptom of insufficient creativity.

Blood had its uses. Notably in contracts.

Contracts bound in Blood, Talent, and Concept were nigh impossible to break, and for those that managed it, they suffered.

Contracts weren’t one-sided, of course. There was a give and take to such things, after all. A contract was an exchange, and a willing exchange always left each party better off than before.

Of course, what she had in abundance were often the very same things which others were desperate for.

Commoners in particular desired equally common things; wealth, skills, connections… They could be so pathetically short-sighted, too, signing away decades, centuries, some few even an eternity for one of the countless skills within her vault.

A pittance.

They worked for her. If they were better at their jobs, that meant they were more valuable to her. That they were ever-so-willing to work for her more in exchange for the ability to do their jobs better proved the value of her philosophy.

Soft power was far superior to hard power.

Combat power.

So what, if she was embarrassingly bad at fighting? She hadn’t needed to raise so much as a finger in self-defense in decades. She had a few trainers helping her improve, but what did it matter if she could punch hard? What did it matter if her Talent made nearly all skills useless for her? She was layered in defensive spells and armor, and surrounded by the greatest defense of all: her minions, bound to loyalty and all the more empowered by her might.

No one could hurt her, even if they wanted to.

When Liz heard about a strong woman who had a Talent for the blade and an armor Talent, she quickly moved in to snatch them up.

As she was sitting in the hovel that the woman’s family called a home, she smiled as the woman signed away ten years of her life for the sum of ten mana stones, two Tiers above her own, per year.

Practically nothing for her.

And the woman was happy about it.

It was wonderful.

She was watching a news report on her AI when an alert flashed to her about a new and upcoming chef.

Young and Talented, being rated as a once-in-a-decade prodigy.

Someone she absolutely needed to have for herself.

She was looking at a picture of them when she noticed the person next to them.

A bodyguard.

She studied him, trying to figure out why she was drawn to him, but couldn't figure it out.

Attractive, yes, but no more so than her endless flock of paramours.

He seemed almost familiar, but a quick search revealed he had never been in a movie or tv show, though the one video she did find of him fighting hit her like a jolt of lightning.

The man was the son of the Beast King Alargon.

But wasn’t the beast kingdom ruler Queen Mara?

Wasn’t Mara her mother?

Liz awoke and studied her life.

It wasn’t ideal, but compared to her last two lives, this Elizabeth may as well have been a saint.

Still, she wasn’t sad to wake up from it, and she pulled herself back out of the life so it could pass as quickly as possible. A little trick she had learned two lives ago. It helped distance herself from the dream, like memories of the reflection lives, and kept her from having to directly experience anything her other selves did.

Six new Concept powers. She should be happy, but she wasn't.

The lives weren’t her. She knew what Luna and Kurt had said, but these were still reflections of her.

The lives shouldn’t be her.

But what if they were?

***

Susanne took a deep breath, calming herself as some of her reflection’s irritation carried over.

Being the sword she wielded was interesting, yes, but she had to deal with so many bad pick up lines about being a ‘sword sheath’, even the real her almost snapped at the young men who learned about her Concept.

Castrating one of them hadn’t been her real self's idea, but she hadn’t stopped the reflection either.

The week in jail and fine had been worth it, as it got the word out she wouldn’t tolerate such ‘jokes’ any more. She’d considered breaking her Concept just to escape the teasing, but eventually settled on a ‘never tell’ policy.

Susanne took a few minutes to process the last life, but after reviewing and packing it up for later exploration, she picked up her last coffee and drank it down.

It tasted like a library smelled.

A good smell, but not a good taste, if she was honest.

It would have made a better tea.

***

Susanne was a scribe.

That was her life.

While her brother struggled to become an artist in an oversaturated field, she wrote. It didn’t pay much, but it paid the bills and kept the both of them fed and clothed on a Duchess Tier 31 world, where they could cultivate the ambient essence and advance without delving into rifts.

That was far, far too dangerous for two academics like them.

Entering into the little room in the library, she set out her supplies and cursed as she realized the book she had stashed under the booth yesterday was gone.

Meredith.

The woman was infuriating.

Attractive.

Attentive.

Astute.

Brave.

Shrewd.

But most of all, a stickler for the rules.

Susanne could deal with all of the other characteristics, but an unbending desire to follow every rule was a step too far.

Did Susanne take over the little private room to work in every day? Yes.

Was that against the rules? No.

Was she supposed to leave things in the room overnight even though she had the room reserved? Also no.

But still. No one used the out of the way room, yet Meredith insisted she clean it out properly every night before she went home. And she did. Susanne never left even a scrap of pencil or ink stain in the room, but she saw no reason to put away the assuredly heavy book every day. She was just going to get it back out the next day.

And even that wouldn’t be so bad, except its index placed it in the farthest section of the seventeen story library. Even as a Tier 7, it would take her twenty minutes to cross the distance with her best speed, but she couldn't even move that fast, as it would be both rude and dangerous to the books around her.

Trying not to stomp, she arrived at the place her book should have been close to an hour later because of a school trip taking up most of the stairwell.

Except, when she arrived at the place where her book of flourishes and calligraphy strokes should have been, there was only a single wooden marker that stated the book in question was no longer in circulation.

That took Susanne aback.

Had someone other than Meredith taken her book?

That sent a bolt of horror through her, and she ran to the front desk a little faster than was strictly necessary. She had developed a fine sheen of perspiration that she tried to wipe off before she waited in line.

There were seven people in front of her and two people working at the front desk. Susanne didn’t see Meredith and wondered if she had been right about someone else taking the book.

Meredith normally put it away in its proper place, and would simply chide Susanne a little when she came to drag her away for lunch.

Just as she was going to get helped by Spencer, Meredith sauntered out of the back room with a familiar shaped bundle wrapped in brown paper.

Susanne didn’t wait until properly called to the front desk and stepped in front of Meredith, reaching for the book, but the woman's mock cleared her throat and pulled the book back slightly.

“Patrons are supposed to wait until called to approach the desk, Miss Velar.”

Susanne rolled her eyes and smoothed her shirt before asking the most important question. “Why did you take my book?”

Meredith just looked at her with those piercing eyes, letting the question speak for itself.

They both knew the answer, but Susanne wasn’t asking what she had spoken aloud. She was asking why the change in routine.

Just as she thought Meredith was going to make her ask properly, the librarian spoke. “I believe we have gone through this song and dance long enough, so I decided to end it.”

Terror shot through Susanne at the thought she was being banned from the library, and she swallowed through her suddenly very dry throat. If she couldn’t work in the library, she would need to rent a place out, and that would be beyond expensive in the city.

She was already struggling to make ends meet while supporting her brother.

She was opening her mouth to speak when Meredith pushed the wrapped book forward. “Despite my lack of understanding as to why you still need this book, as you are beyond proficient, I have given up. If you feel the book helps in some way, you might as well make it your property properly. That way, you can take it with you when you go home, and won't need to leave it behind anymore. Consider it a gift.”

Susanne froze as the unexpected news caught her off guard.

The book wasn’t just a book. It was the book that had taught her how to use her Talent for more than fancy lettering. It had been her lifeline as a poor young adult trying to figure out how to support herself and her brother on an expensive, high Tier planet.

It had been her only friend when she went hungry.

It had been there when she made her first commission, and finally was able to start repaying their debt.

It had been there when she first met Meredith, and the woman forced herself into her life.

It had been there when she formed her Concept, and her quill had risen on its own for the first time.

She had always wanted to buy it, but it was also an incredibly old book that went for two dozen Tier 32 mana stones. A price she could never afford. She could have bought a cheaper reprint, but that wouldn’t have been the same.

You couldn't replace a friend with a copy just because they were expensive. It was the experiences they shared that made them friends. Not the contents of the book.

And the generosity. That just… wasn’t done. Some part of Susanne’s spirit rebelled at the gift, shouting at her that no, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t normal, she couldn’t rely on anyone else ever for something like this….

A sword is reliable.

But she had never held a sword.

The Concept broke through the illusion Susanne found herself in, and she relaxed.

She could deal with generosity in a dream. She didn’t quite understand the woman’s gift, but it seemed like Minkalla was trying to do something with it.

As she watched and waited for skills and personal developments of value, Susanne contemplated the value of her life as a calligrapher.

An animated pen definitely seemed like it would translate to an animated sword back in reality. It was either that, or gaining the ability to manifest a quill with her Talent, but that seemed less likely.

She settled in for the ride and watched as her other self bumbled through awkward thanks. It didn’t seem like it would be all that interesting of a life, but who knew? Maybe she’d get some insight into her Talent to help her with the slow process of expansion. A professional calligrapher sounded boring, and she remembered it being fairly dull, but she would stay optimistic.

These lives were worth more than just their Concepts after all. Each could teach her something, and could act as a reference for skills she might not have gathered during her real life, even after they faded to little more than memories.

These lives were the pieces of experience that could help her create her Intent.

Minkalla was a forge after all.

And she was her best hammer.

***

Five lives down, one to go.

Matt tapped his recently-drained teacup against the saucer it had rested on, contemplating life. Specifically, a life that seemed smarter than his own. His alternate self had never gotten [Cracked Phantom Armor], the bar fight which had ended up with him snatching the skill for himself simply never happened. He’d still been able to join the path of Ascension, but without a skill, he’d just relied on his physical prowess for delving.

That meant a slower rate of progress overall, as injuries were more common, but it also meant he’d turned around and left the rift when it presented him with a rift challenge. Without Aster, he stayed a solo climber, never teaming up with Liz and becoming more and more self-reliant.

What had really interested Matt was how his other life had eventually expanded his capabilities. Notably, he used Talismans far, far earlier than Matt ever had, starting at Tier 5. It was like watching Quill, not Matt, clear rifts.

Where Matt’s strengths had always lay in outlasting and overcoming tough opponents through attrition, that life had focused on incredible amounts of preparation followed by a few brief moments of overwhelming power, perfectly tuned to fell targets.

It was inspiring, really. He’d managed to develop a true Concept at Tier six, all on his own and without the help of an ascension like the real Matt had gotten. ‘Always Preparing,’ played a dual purpose of allowing Matt to change the aspect of his enchantments and even move mana between talismans he’d made.

He’d won his tournament by the skin of his teeth, fighting Queen for the top spot, and had gotten Erwin as a manager, though filling a role as a classical enchanter rather than a researcher. He wasn’t even aware the man was a manager, though he likely wasn’t in reality.

Overall, it was… interesting. And gave him a few ideas for new talismans for once he was out of Minkalla.

Well, nothing else to it.

Matt grabbed his last cup, the ceramic mug with a sharpened lip, and poured the contents into his mouth.

***

Matt slammed his sledgehammer into the rock twice more, and once it shattered, wiped his face.

Construction was hard work.

He knew that. His father had worked in it as a supervisor, but this wasn’t even that kind of construction.

This was using cheap human labor to work where the bots couldn’t get as easily.

Still, it was a job, but it was the best paying one Matt could find that might someday get him to his goal of being a delver.

500 credits a month wasn’t much after he paid for housing, but it was enough to let him save a little. It would just take three years of hard work.

He had already been doing this for six months, but now that he had fallen into a rhythm, things were at least passing by monotonously, if slowly.

As he checked the time on his watch, he and most others started walking to the end of the construction site.

Calvin shouted, “Hey, Matt! Why don't you join us at the bar tonight?”

Matt shook his head. “I can't afford it, Calvin. You know that.”

Calvin grabbed Matt’s arm. “Come on, the first one’s on me, and no need to drink another. It is nice to have you with us.”

Matt debated declining, but ended up agreeing when the others on the team pestered him.

The bar was as run down as they were, but it at least had cool beer, and Matt sipped at it slowly as he listened to the others talking.

As was usual, the conversation turned to the rift break, and Matt spat, “Fucking Junipers. Useless bastards.”

A man at the nearby table raised his glass to that. “Fucking truer words have never been spoken.”

As their table raised their glasses in toast, they went back to their drinks just a little more somber.

Going to the bar became a regular thing for Matt. Or rather, the others dragged him along once a week and paid for him to have one beer.

Matt even became familiar with the man who had toasted to the Junipers’ shittiness the first time.

Tom was a simple man like the rest of them, but after getting to know that Matt wanted to be a delver, he became closer to him.

He had apparently been a delver before the incident, but gave it up when his family died.

That was a feeling Matt understood, even if he didn’t agree with giving up.

Things came to a head after another year.

The Junipers were fined for their allowing rift breaks, but they weren’t given any more punishment as they managed to foist the blame off on their low Tier workers.

As Matt and everyone in the bar were fuming about the weak punishment, Tom came over to Matt.

“Do you want to take revenge too?”

Matt nodded, and Tom didn’t say anything else, just nodding and drinking next to him.

Matt thought that was the end of it when, a week later, a new man joined Tom at his table and shook Matt’s hand.

“My name is John. I’m a lot like you. Lost my mother and sister to something just like what happened here.” There was a pause before he added, “I want to do something about it. Wanna help?”

Matt knew he should say no, but he nodded. He was angry. The Junipers were just a symptom of the evil that were the nobles. Above the rules and lawless.

“We intend to graffiti the town hall tonight, and could use another hand.”

Matt hesitated, but it wasn’t too dangerous. Even if they were caught… meh. What was a few more months of work in exchange for spiting the people who’d ruined everything?

That night, the three of them and six others painted ‘Cowards’ and ‘Our Lives Lost Don’t Warrant Punishment’ on the stone face of the building before running away, even as the police came to investigate.

Thankfully, John had a contact in the police department, and they warned them in time so they could get away.

That started Matt's time with the Resistance.

They started small, but as the weeks passed, they escalated.

They did bad things, but they were the good guys.

Burning down the town hall was met with satisfaction of the masses, even while the local papers tried to vilify them. They knew the truth. They talked to their fellow citizens, who were just as angry as them.

A year later, they were in contact with a dozen more groups like theirs, and they had a plan for an even bigger score.

They wanted to burn down one of the Junipers’ supply depots.

It took some planning, but they managed it without any of them getting caught.

That was only possible because of John.

Far from the simple man he pretended to be, he was actually a Tier 15 who had come back to Lilly when his family was killed.

With his help, they grew stronger as he took them deep into the continent and taught them how to fight.

When Matt reached Tier 3, they grabbed onto his Talent and the possibilities it provided.

Mana was both money and power.

With it, they got better gear and hit harder targets.

First was an outpost of the Junipers that housed their guards, who had been responsible for putting their mana stones too close to the cities.

They executed each and every one of the lazy, corrupt bastards and sent the video to the news stations.

They called them terrorists, but Matt and everyone else knew the truth.

They were liberators.

Saviors of their fellow commoners.

Once they got a taste for blood, they hit more outposts and hit them harder.

With John, no matter how strong the defenders that the Junipers tried to hide in the common guards were, they were always dealt with easily, and they punished all the traitors the only way they could.

Things continued like that for another two years before they had an opportunity.

A prestigious ‘playpen’ for the rich and elite had a vulnerability in their primary ward.

They took advantage of it.

The nobles and ilk had taken away their parents, so the Resistance would take away their children.

A few explosives filled with tens of thousands of mana detonated while they were at lunch, and killed eighty percent of the little monsters.

As John said, ‘If the problem wasn’t taken care of at the root, it would just regrow.’

That was their first big victory.

It was also when the stove got too hot, and they needed to move.

With that last mission done, they left Lilly and moved to a nearby planet with its own corrupt noble.

There, they gathered more support before striking out once more.

They even started claiming their attacks as, ‘The Wrath of the Commoners.’

They used Matt’s mana and got themselves support from the locals while striking out at the nobility and upper class as much as possible.

They spilled the common man's blood without thought, and The Wrath of the Commoners spilled theirs back.

One time, they even ambushed and killed a Tier 15.

That was their greatest victory.

A victory so great, they needed to lay low for a while.

That was when Matt created his Concept.

Detonation.

He could constrain his mana in the area around him, building it up and compressing it with his will. Then, once he was ready, he could unleash it in a massive detonation that not only could destroy just about anything of his Tier, but melted even higher-tier runes and enchantments in a wide area.

That enabled them to attack even larger targets.

It culminated in an attack on a prep school for noble children.

It took a year of infiltrating the staff, but eventually, they got their bombs in place, and during an assembly for some stuck-up award, they intended to detonate them.

Better yet, the fish they hooked was the biggest one yet.

Some Elizabeth Moore was present to give the award for some little noble brat being more noble than the others.

As the bombs went off, sending broken bodies flying every which way, Matt felt triumph, but that feeling quickly yielded to confusion.

That shouldn’t have worked. How had that worked? There was no way that should have worked.

Liz was a royal’s daughter. She had Tier 35 guards.

They should have stopped the bombs.

But they hadn't.

A body landed near him, and Matt smirked as he saw their target lying broken on the stones before him.

Wait.

Liz was dead?

Liz was dead?

Matt felt an overwhelming sense of nausea, but he shook it aside. As he looked at the body of the girl in front of him, it returned in force, and Matt broke.

He had killed Liz.

The love of his life.

For some reason, that more than any of the other heinous crimes this reflection had committed hurt him.

Liz should have been safe.

And the thought that Liz mattered more than the others hurt even more.

Liz was only one person, but to him, she mattered more than all the others.

In horror, Matt watched as his reflection recovered and celebrated the death of the nobles.

They ran, as cowards always did, but Matt knew what was coming, even as his reflection thought he’d escaped.

Mara and Leon descended on the planet like angry gods.

Matt’s only warning was a tremor sweeping through the atmosphere like a sonic boom, then he was elsewhere, alongside every other member of The Wrath of Commoners.

Matt expected them to kill them instantly, but they didn’t. They didn’t even torture them, even though Matt wouldn't have blamed them. Honestly their little band of terrorist shouldn't have even gotten that far after hitting the targets they did without a Tier 45 coming down on them but he was sure Minkalla had kept them away until Matt and his team killed Liz.

Instead, they simply handed them over to Imperial authorities, who tried them for their terrorist actions.

All of them were guilty and pronounced so, despite their pitiful excuses.

Matt felt sick watching his other self casually dismiss the lives of everyone they killed because of who their parents were.

It was a side of himself he never thought he could become.

He was glad they were being killed. His entire group deserved far worse than the quick executions they were going to be given.

A part of him wanted to tell Mara and Leon this was just a Minkalla reflection, and he loved Liz more than his life, but couldn't bring himself to do so.

He was a coward to think about what they would say.

In front of a gathering of their victims' loved ones, his reflection fell over, dead alongside his entire band of terrorists.

***

Matt fell to the ground, on his hands and knees.

It was done.

His spirit felt tumultuous, though whether that was his Concept assimilating its new abilities or something more akin to nausea from his experiences, Matt didn’t know.

There were a few other houses scattered across the safe zone, and a few individuals in varying states of recovery. Fortunately, Liz, Aster, and Susanne all appeared alongside him with spirits seemingly intact.

They didn’t need to say anything, Matt simply pulled out his house and the four of them filed inside. In silence, he made tea and passed out the mugs for everyone, hiding a small tremor in his hand as he handed Liz hers.

Matt was just starting his second mug when Aster finally spoke up. “Did everyone succeed?”

Nods all around gave the answer.

Aster then continued, “Great! What did everyone get? I had ice cream lives, which was cool. There was one where I was a human artist and Matt’s little sister, which was the best! One where I was a winter wolf, one where I was a fire fox… That one was ok at best, but I like my cold much better. That dumb fox liked chili. There was another where I was a kitsune, one where I wasn’t nearly as pretty or smart, and… one where Matt died early, and I had to live on my own.”

Aster’s low whine as she sent the last life was a heart-wrenching thing, and Matt reached over to where the little fox was sitting to pull her onto his lap in comfort. She snuggled up close to him, stealing all his warmth with a deliberate burst of cold.

The cheeky little fox.

Susanne chuckled at Matt’s involuntary shiver before speaking up herself. “I had coffee, not that it really matters. Um, anyway. I had one life where I served as a dedicated defender for my brother, focusing on shields especially. One where I mastered lots of weapons rather than just my sword, one where I was a scribe…” she frowned at that before continuing. “There was one where I was an agility warrior, specializing in daggers and using a Concept to empower others’ blades, interestingly enough. I had one life in the Sects with the power to resize weapons I wielded, and one life where I could hide swords inside my body to benefit from their enchantments. I swear if I hear one more joke about being a sword sheath, I will hurt someone.”

Matt smirked but kept his mouth shut. He had learned his lesson about bad jokes decades ago.

Their other lives were sort of abstract memories at this point, he didn’t need to worry about getting confused in regards to what was real or not, but habits and preferences were known to bleed through. They’d be sorting out whether or not a bit of irritation was genuine or a ‘phantom impression’ for months, maybe even years to come. They’d have a dedicated debrief with Luna and their psychiatrists once this was all over, unpacking the six other lives they’d all lived, but for now, they needed to focus on what was immediately relevant. Namely, the general forms that their new abilities might have come in.

Liz still seemed interested in staring at her still-full mug of tea. He reached over and gave her a small squeeze on her shoulder, which broke her out of her contemplation and earned Matt a smile. “Oh, am I going next?”

Matt shook his head. “I was going to, unless you really want to? You just looked deep in thought.”

“Yeah… Yeah. But I’m fine,” she shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” she smiled, but he could see it was forced. “Matt, are you delaying?”

Matt just rolled his eyes and counted off on his fingers. “My lives involved me being a professional cook, then there was one where I was imprisoned for my mana generation. There was a life where I never teamed up with you, and mainly worked as a mage-warrior duo with Aster, one where I never even got Aster, and moved into using talismans way earlier, and a quiet life where I joined a guild and acted as a support mage. The last was a life where I was a… well, a terrorist, with a Concept meant to… meant to make things explode.”

Susanne shrugged. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m happy with my behavior in the Sects, but they-”

“They aren’t real. I know.” He took a breath and nodded to Susanne before looking to the last one. “Liz?”

“A life where I was a researcher. A life where I had a fire Talent instead of a blood Talent, a life where I used blood sacrifice to become a queen during the Shattering, a life where I pushed people to sign unbreakable blood oaths with me, a life where you and Aster both died and I went hard on being a blood warrior rather than a mage, and a life where I killed a few planets via bloodborne illness, rot, and decay.”

That last life caught him speechless. That was… a step beyond even his terrorist life. “Are… are you sure you’re okay?”

Liz nodded, “Absolutely. They weren’t me.”

The private AI message Matt got as she said so told a different story, however. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

He acknowledged the message, not letting his face show any reaction, and spoke up. “Well. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I really need a good night’s sleep as me. Bedtime for now, get a good night’s sleep. We’ll divvy up loot in the morning and cross our fingers the last psychotic floor isn’t Wasteland.”

There was a bit of murmuring in agreement as Aster and Susanne got up to go to bed, and Liz just nodded silently as they went to their respective beds.

No sooner had the door clicked behind Matt and Liz as they entered their bedroom, with the privacy enchantments graven into the walls clicking and humming into action, did Liz launch herself at Matt, wrapping him in a one and a half-armed hug, sobbing.

Matt scooped up his girlfriend into his arms and sat the two of them on their bed, where she sat crying into his shoulder for a substantial length of time. He just held her and gave the best hug he could while she vented her emotions into him.

Eventually, her sobbing relaxed into a mere sniffle, and after she blew her nose on the handkerchief Matt provided her, she looked him straight in the eyes. “It’s well past time I told you about my Awakening.”