Accidental Healer-Chapter 128 - 42 - Night of Tranquility

The time had finally arrived. My fighter class was level 25 and ready for me to choose my second class evolution.

I couldn't keep my hands from shaking with anticipation. The system message blinked in the corner of my screen practically begging to be opened. It took every ounce of willpower not to dive into my options right where I was standing, only, where I was standing was in the middle of a soon to be closed anomaly.

Reluctantly I decided that I could wait a few seconds to exit, and maybe I could find a nice secluded spot where I wouldn't be bothered? It would be nice to take some time on my decision.

The waterfall wasn't all that far, it seemed like a perfectly suitable location.

With my mind made up, there was one last thing I wanted to do. With a thought, a pair of dark brown leather boots materialized before me in the air and dropped softly into my outstretched hands.

I frowned, assessing the apparently rare quality boots, lifting them to eye level and squinting.

"They're just normal old leather boots…" I muttered, setting them down.

I balanced on one leg, lifting my right foot to unlace my Converse, then remembered I carried a chair in my storage. A second later I was seated with one leg up, shock painted all over my face.

It had probably been months since I'd actually seen the state of my old shoes, or, what was left of them. The fabric was shredded, laces hanging on by a thread. I tugged the back and pulled the shoe free to find the sole split at both the heel and arch with large chunks of the fabric missing.

The second was even worse.

I whistled.

For a shoe that was renowned for taking punishment, these valiant soldiers had gone the extra mile and paid the price.

"Too bad I can't use healing magic on you guys." I whispered reverently. "Thanks for the good times."

All things considered, it was a miracle there was anything left of them at all. With a solemn grin I stored the worn shoes away and lifted the right boot, sliding it easily over my barefoot. I'd abandoned my socks over a month ago.

The fit was perfect, and I nimbly tightened the straps on the outside and then repeated the process on the left foot. With both boots securely fashioned I stood slowly, allowing my weight to rest on the hardened leather soles, then rolling up onto my toes.

It was like wearing a perfect pair of Christmas socks, but with the protection of steel toed boots. I bounced lightly, feeling decidedly pleased with the new upgrade. Satisfied there was no more reason to linger, I headed for the shimmering exit portal leaving Mischief and the rest of the Catkin behind.

"Good, you're out."

I jumped slightly, and looked toward the sound of the voice. Nick leaned casually against the base of a tall pine a few paces off.

"Dude, what are you, like my welcoming committee or something for when I exit dungeons?" I asked, not able to keep the smile from my face.

This was the second time now I'd left a portal to find Nick waiting.

Nick pushed off the tree, dark brows knotted.

"What's going on? This isn't about the cows is it?" My face darkened. "Seriously, Nick, did someone die or something?"

He pursed his lips, eyes downcast. The notification of my evolution flashed in my peripheral—something about the look on Nick's face told me it was going to have to wait.

***

The dark elf, Tavion, laid in a wide pool of his own dried and crusted blood. The crown of his head was a foot or two away from his limp body.

After Tavion's execution, Jared insisted everything be left exactly how they fell, treating it as if it was a crime scene. I coughed and raised my arm to cover my face in an attempt to combat the sweet coppery smell that permeated the room.

Tavion's exposed brain was half in half out of his open skull.

Bile rose in my throat but I forced myself to take it all in. Aside from the smell, the gore was something that I'd become regrettably far too accustomed to.

Shaking my head, I raised my hand to cast a single healing spell on the elf's corpse. The action did little to ease my frustration.

A member of my faction was dead—murdered, and lying in his gore in the home of my steward.

I crouched to get a better look at the face of the would-be traitor. His face was grey and puffy, but it was clear he was young, maybe not much older than me. What was left of him looked fit and capable, someone that could've been an asset. Now what was he?

Just a pile of meat and bones.

My teeth clenched and I shoved myself back to my feet and strode out of Jared's cabin, with a snap the door slammed behind me.

Jared, Nick, Enora and the other traitor were all waiting for me in my cabin when I swung the door open, heads raising from around my table. The lone traitor sitting on the floor resting his back against the log walls chained hands resting on his knees.

"I've seen enough, have someone get Jared's cabin cleaned up."

Nick shoved his chair back and quietly passed by me in the doorway with a solemn smile.

"This is the other one?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Jared nodded slightly, confirming.

I walked to the table, resting my hand on a chair. Not ready to deal with the situation with Enora just yet, I met her eyes and then pulled the chair away, settling it just a few feet in front of the chained dark elf.

Speaking with prisoners was already starting to feel a bit old, but Ellison and others warned me this was the price of assimilation. In fact, just the other day Jared told me our faction was exceeding his wildest expectations, especially between the humans and the Guildian's.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Who said jinxes didn't exist?

"So you're the other traitor?" I questioned, leaning my elbows on my knees. "What's your name?"

"Norso."

"Kind of a crap way to officially meet, Norso. I guess you already know who I am?"

His shoulders slumped, in a poor excuse for a shrug. "I know."

"Yeah—I guess that makes sense. Considering you were planning to kill me."

Norso fiddled with the iron links of the mana dappening chains we'd looted from a slaver dungeon earlier.

"It wasn't like that."

"Nick walked me through it." I opened my hands. "Correct me if I have it wrong. But from what I understand, Teklen—your former leader—was the initial target. Right?"

He shifted and chains rattled. "Yes, that is right but—"

I held up a hand. "Hold on, you'll get your chance."

He craned his neck from his place on the hard wood floor, searching my face quietly but I got the sense he was itching to say more.

"And once he was out of the picture, that's when the sights fell on me." I leaned back and rested my arm over the back of my chair. "So what was the plan?"

"The plan?"

"Yeah—you know, how did you plan to kill me?"

"There wasn't a plan—not really. It's like you said, all our scheming was for Teklen." He let out a defeated sigh.

That tracked with the briefing I'd been given by Nick. Honestly from the way Nick told it, Norso hadn't ever really sounded all that keen on his partner's scheming. But by no means did that mean he was innocent.

"How did you know…" I paused realizing I'd already forgotten the name of the other elf.

"Tavion?" Norso offered.

"Tavion."

"We are—or, we were foster brothers, we grew up together." His voice was low, hollow.

Mischief immediately came to mind. Oddly, after only a few months he already felt like my brother. The images of his body sprawled out, half his head cleaved off, flashed in my mind. I blinked hard trying to erase the image, but the lingering emotions weren't so easy

to erase.

"You both must have known the risks you were taking?"

"We did."

"Was it worth it?"

Norso studied his chains like they were the only thing that existed in the world and didn't speak for a long time. Seconds crawled by, joined by the chorus of controlled breathing of everyone in the small cabin.

"No." His head lifted, revealing bloodshot eyes and restrained tears. "Tavion never was patient. And I'm just a fool with no future."

"Tavion is the one with no future. The jury is still out on you. You should be grateful to him."

"And why is that?"

"Because he probably saved your life."

Norso's nose wrinkled and he narrowed his eyes, confused.

"Your plan was doomed to fail, and you both would've died. As it stands, only Tavion is dead." I met Norso's eyes. "So, the question is—what are you going to do with your brother's sacrifice?"

From somewhere far away, I could feel the current begin to flow. The same as it always did when my class was urging for judgement.

"There's no place in this faction for traitors and backstabbers looking for shortcuts. This is your one and only warning." Confusion evaporated and Norso gasped. "Don't waste it."

The current faded, but its weight lingered in the room.

My attention turned to Enora, and I stood up, ready to be done with this whole ordeal.

"And you. This is my faction, your people are members and that includes you. What you did today should be considered murder. However, under the circumstances I will look the other way this once, but never again—Understood?"

Her response barely reached a whisper.

"Yes."

"Good, then I think I'm done here."

***

A few minutes later I was staring out over the pristine mountain lake I'd discovered shortly after the world changed. My heart felt heavy and I contemplated my decision to leave Jared and Enora.

Looking back, I probably should've at least waited while the two of them decided what they were going to do about Norso.

But honestly? It felt right to let them sort this one out. Or maybe that was just my justification to run off and finally open my class options.

Either way….

Congratulations! Fighter class has reached level twenty five and you may now choose an evolved class.

Please select from the following options.

The following class selection would merge your classes into a singular class.

Warning - This option will be available in future evolutions and may result in more powerful fusions. Merging cannot be undone.

Class: Paladin of Judgement (Progenitor)

Reading through the first option felt like walking on egg shells. The last thing that I wanted to do was errantly agree either verbally or non-verbally to irreversibly merge my two classes.

So with that in mind, I methodically reviewed the page.

And boy—the first class was a dandy of an evolution. Paladin of Judgement was chalk full of goodies. For starters, it was built with a well balanced attribution of a whopping fifty eight stat point growth per level, not including the additional plus five bonus points from being a human, or my title bumps.

Stat Increases:

Constitution: +11

Strength: +11

Agility: +8

Wisdom: +12

Intelligence: +12

Sense: +4

As if the stat growth alone wasn't enough, it was also a progenitor title like Mischief's. Combine that with the powerful defensive and healing aura's it was a very compelling offer.

To say that I was tempted would be an understatement. But there were still two more options to review and it was very hard to ignore the system warning preceding the class.

Class: Shadowborn Executioner

A shadowborn class.

I guess I should've seen this second class coming. Mischief was as much an influence in my life as anything, so it stood to reason that I'd be presented with a class associated with his progenitor title. Logistically the stats and abilities were impressive but I didn't give the option much attention.

Moving on.

Class: Knight of Tranquility (founder)

The order of tranquility - An order dedicated to the pursuit of true tranquility. Its members believe calm is not the absence of chaos, but mastery over it.

Skills:

Alignment of will: (Passive) When allies align with your ideals they receive a buff based on level of conviction.

Bond of trust: (Passive) Your spirit tools develop more intimately with your needs.

Stat Increases:

Constitution: +8

Strength: +8

Agility: +8

Wisdom: +4

Intelligence: +4

Sense: +2

Option two was out of the running. As much as I loved Mischief, our evolutions walked different paths.

That left option one and three. Option one remained to be an extremely tempting choice, especially with the progenitor title included. On the other hand, I really wasn't sure what the founder designation included, and I was also not really all that impressed with the class having two passive abilities rather than clear offensive skills.

In the end though what sealed my decision was the warning. The fact of the matter was I wanted to see what two evolved classes combined might become and according to the warning I felt confident it wouldn't be the last time I'd be offered to merge my classes.

Mind made up, I selected the third option.