Mischief lounged casually on a rock next to a small cliff face.

Below and around him, the mana-twisted cats were restless. Some played in the trees, some prowled about, while others lounged.

More than once over the last five days, Mischief wondered if he had made a terrible mistake saving them.

They were wild, unpredictable and worst of all–annoying. Even as he thought it, one of the striped mana cats plummeted from a branch and landed on Mischief's head. He didn't flinch. It was the third time today.

Mischief was frustrated. His eyes followed one cat in particular. It was slightly larger than the rest, roughly Layton's height, but broader, more muscled. Something felt so familiar about the soft orange yellow cat.

As annoying as the mana creatures were, it was hard not to feel a kinship. They walked on two feet with clawed fingers and toes. Even though they were changed, he could sense they were still felines.

What they needed was levels. At least that's what he felt they needed. But to get levels they had to kill. That didn't bother Mischief one bit. Layton on the other hand…

He was ok with killing if he felt they deserved it. The question was, how was he supposed to know?

Mischief had mentally been making a list of things that were definitely not ok. The top of that list. Children. Layton was firmly against anyone who hurt children.

He wasn't really sure why—children died all the time. The cubs were the easiest targets, his mother had taught him that. But Layton looked at them like they were sacred. Untouchable. It was strange.

Oh well, no children. He also didn't seem to love killing humans, although he had made the exception.

That was where he should focus. Why had Layton made the exception?

At first Mischief had offered to kill Jordan, but Layton had turned him down. It wasn't until after they found the prisoners and the children that heads started to roll. Then again, he had also killed the bandits and the slavers, but they weren't humans. He had a soft spot for humans.

It wasn't perfect but he felt he had a decent idea of who he would be allowed to hunt. Now he just had to find them.

It shouldn't be too hard.

What really gnawed at him was why Layton cared so much.

Mischief found the yellow-orange cat again.

All he wanted was to help these cats gain the same awareness he had. They were close, he knew they were. What if something killed them before they reached that point? Or worse, what if they reached that point and then they were killed? Even the thought made him feel bad.

When Layton told him about the woman who nearly killed him, Mischief had felt furious. Were these feelings the same reason why Layton was so hesitant to kill things?

He shook his head trying to break free from the complicated thoughts. They needed levels.

Mischief stood and stretched.

Time to go for a little hunt.

***

I didn't linger with Brooke. It felt like enough that I listened and cared. With an awkward side hug I left her to her prayers.

The rest of the walk to my cabin was filled with conflicted emotions. Part of me didn't want to know the truth about Matt. It felt easier to think of him as Matt "The Peoples Champion", perfect, larger than life Matt.

Knowing that he was as human as the rest of us stung, but it didn't really surprise me. It was just the way things went.

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The smell of pine burning and meat cooking drove away the mellow feeling.

"Hey!" Alex waved his big beefy hand. "Look who decided to show up."

I pointed to my chest. "Apparently that didn't stop you from making yourself at home I see."

"Well it's more like a commune really. I mean you going all cult leader–marbling up that dead dude."

A rock flew and smacked Alex in the head. "Hey! What the hell?"

"Show some respect Alex." Nick was gearing up to throw another rock and Alex shielded his face. "You were there, Tom saved Layton's life."

The rock flew and Alex batted it away. "You're right, you're right. Sorry Layton."

In seconds a cloud settled over the group, the mood turning somber. On one hand Nick was right, but on the other I really didn't want people to dwell on the negative of Tom's sacrifice.

"He only had to save my life because some DHW cursed my ass right before I got yeeted by a twenty foot tall cyclops."

Alex snorted. Then Nick cracked a smile.

"You're all such boys." Elise said with a facepalm. It was a pleasant surprise when she started showing up to the late night fires. But the biggest surprise? Durkil.

"Men." Durkil said matter of factly. "Alex and Nick fight. They're soldiers."

He paused before adding. "Plus I saw Alex's manhood when his pants gave way."

Silence.

A sputter—then snot flew out of Alex's nose as he started laughing. I laughed too. Durkil had proven a natural fit to the group. He was serious and proud, he had a sophisticated humor.

But not too sophisticated.

"Poor Durkil." Elise wheezed, wiping away tears.

"Poor faction." Nick added. "He didn't even notice he was hanging free until we made it back into town."

The group erupted into laughter again, while I took a seat next to Damon. Alex's face was bright red, even cartoonish with the bright yellow light of the fire.

"You know, there is a troll I met once that you sort of remind me of." Thinking back on that time in the final dungeon with the naked troll. That earned me a few cockeyed looks.

"Still." He grumbled. "You could've told me instead of throwing a damn rock at it."

Everyone lost control. Even Durkil was laughing.

When things finally calmed down–and Alex had recovered some of his dignity, he kicked my leg.

"Speaking of swords. When are you going to tell us about how Tranquility is doing?"

That's right! How did I keep forgetting? Feeling a rush of anticipation at the reminder I drew my spirit weapon from my spacial storage and rested her on my lap.

"Alright...can I get a drumroll?"

"No!" Nick shouted at me. "You tell us now and I will show my bow next."

So dramatic.

My eyes shift to my screen.

Tranquility (Level 32 Spirit weapon)

Spirit weapons absorb ambient mana and grow with the owner, inheriting traits from skills and titles. This spirit sword has gained traits that enhance the quality of summoned barriers. Shielding spells cast by the user will consume less mana while also creating more powerful shields. Enhancements scale with both wisdom and Intelligence stats of the user.

Tranquility has begun to feel. She recognizes those judged by her wielder. When the wielder of this blade deems an enemy worthy of death Tranquility hungers to enact judgement. Her blade will grow blue and add enhanced piercing damage to all armor and magical shields.

The quality and durability have progressed to rare.

I read the status out loud. The words washed over me. I knew Tranquility was a she.

"I'm not reading mine anymore." Nick said, storing his bow.

"Ahhh come on Nick!" Damon pleaded. "It's a bow, don't be ashamed."

The rest of the group chimed in on the pleading. Nick just glared.

"No one should compare themselves to layton. At least you didn't have to fight him." Technically Durkil and I didn't fight, it was more of a spar.

Reluctantly Nick pulled out his spirit weapon again.

"What's her name?" Elise asked sweetly, batting her eyes.

"IT'S name—is Splinter."

I cock my head. "Like–ouch I just got a splinter walking on this unsanded wood floor?"

"We're not talking about manhoods again are we?" Alex added dryly.

"No, we are not talking about—argghhh! No master Splinter." He looks around the group. "TMNT? Master splinter—Seriously?"

I know for a fact Alex is a huge Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fan, I am too. We talked about them the first night we met actually.

We share a glance, but then I spill the beans. "YES, of course we know Master Splinter. Just read your damn status."

Still Salty he finally complies.

"Splinter does more damage to enemies who don't see me." He stowes his bow again. "I'm a freaking stealth archer."

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