I woke to sunlight streaming through the window and the feeling that my body was buzzing with energy. My mana was back.

  I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and pulled up my status screen. Sure enough, the mana bar was full again. Level 3 now. One skill point waiting. Three stat points sitting there like little promises.

  Time to make some decisions.

  I had [Clean Entry] for when I absolutely, positively needed someone's head to stop being attached to their body. I had [Omniglot] for understanding languages and, apparently, cats. What I didn't have was options.

  If I ran out of bullets, I was screwed. If I needed to escape and had no mana left after using [Clean Entry], I was also screwed. Both problems seemed likely to come up in a country where my face counted as probable cause.

  So. Skill time.

  I scrolled through the options, looking for something that would keep me alive. There were a lot of flashy offensive skills—[Chain Lightning], [Flame Shot], [Shatter]—all very cool, all very boom boom everyone dies, but none of them solved my actual problems.

  Then I saw it.

  [Reload]

  Type: Active

  Never caught empty-handed. Or empty-gunned. You get it.

  Uses mana to instantly reload weapons with spectral ammunition. Replaces bullets that were previously loaded (counts both physical and magical reloads). Low mana cost.

  I stared at it and Perry's voice echoed in my head. Don't forget to reload.

  This was perfect. Cheap mana cost meant I could use it constantly. And if I was ever in a situation where I'd burned through all my shots and all my mana... well, I was probably already dead anyway.

  I kept scrolling, just to be thorough. There was [Blink]—a short-range teleport that looked incredibly useful—but the mana cost was brutal. If I took that, I'd have two expensive skills and no mana left to actually use either of them after the first cast. That seemed stupid.

  No, [Reload] was the right call. It solved an immediate problem, it was cheap enough to spam, and it meant I'd never run out of bullets as long as I had mana.

  It's what Perry told me to remember, so I was also honoring his memory. I was looking forward to honoring him some more by putting some of those bullets into Menekrates, but something told me a lone level 3 [Gunwitch] wouldn’t be quite enough against an Archon and literally the entire city.

  I selected [Reload].

  [Reload] acquired.

  Now for the stat points.

  If I put all three into Attunement, I'd have a bigger mana pool. More casts of [Reload], and even enough to use [Clean Entry] and still have juice left over. I’d also be a bit closer to be able to use it twice. But if I didn't put anything into Dexterity, I'd miss that speed boost.

  Two into Attunement, one into Dexterity. Balanced. Responsible.

  I allocated the points.

  Strength: 1 (1 + 0)

  Dexterity: 9 (9 + 0)

  Barrier: 1 (1 + 0)

  Attunement: 9 (9 + 0)

  Stamina: 1 (1 + 0)

  Luck: 1 (1 + 0)

  Chaos: 1 (1 + 0)

  The change hit immediately. My fingers felt lighter, my movements smoother. The shift was not as dramatic as last time. The world looked just a fraction slower, like I'd been given an extra beat to react. It was subtle but noticeable.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  "You awake?" Pammon's voice asked tentatively.

  "No," I said.

  Silence.

  "...Really?"

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Really."

  More silence. I could practically hear him trying to figure out if I was joking.

  "We're, uh... ready to move on. If you are. No rush. Take your time. Whenever you're ready. Or not. That's fine too."

  I opened the door. Pammon jumped back half a step.

  "I'm ready," I said.

  He nodded quickly. "Great. Good. That's—yeah. Breakfast first?"

  "Sure."

  "Great," he said again, then hurried down the hall like I might change my mind and shoot him.

  Phisto stretched at my feet, yawned, and padded after him. "He seems a bit jumpy this morning."

  "I noticed."

  ***

  Downstairs, the innkeeper had laid out bread, cheese, and some kind of stew that smelled better than it looked. Ailomisos and Pammon were already seated, both of them staring at their bowls like they were the most fascinating thing they'd ever seen. I sat down across from them.

  Pammon immediately pushed a plate toward me. "Here. Thought you might be hungry."

  I nodded. "Thanks."

  "No problem. It's fresh. Well, mostly fresh. Fresh enough."

  Ailomisos grunted and kept eating.

  I picked at the bread. It was fine. A little stale, but fine.

  Pammon kept glancing at me, then looking away whenever I looked back. Like a nervous bird.

  "You alright?" I asked.

  "Me? Yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

  “They think you're going to kill them," Phisto said from under the table.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because you keep killing people."

  I chewed on a piece of bread. "That’s a very selective reading of the facts."

  I dipped it in the stew, hoping it would help with the staleness. "It’s not like I kill everyone I meet. You kill a few people here and there and suddenly everyone thinks you’re some kind of psychotic killer. I think I’ve committed a completely socially acceptable amount of murders. Nobody ever talks about the people I didn’t kill. That’s the real injustice."

  I looked up and saw Pammon frozen mid-chew, eyes locked on me. “I don’t know why everyone makes such a big deal out of it.” I gestured with the bread.

  I looked between both of them. "I'm not going to kill you."

  "Great," Pammon said, voice tight. "That's—that's great. Good to know."

  "Unless you try to kill me first," I added. "Then I’m going to super kill you."

  Pammon nodded so fast I thought his head might fall off. "Understood. Completely understood. Won't try to kill you. Promise."

  Ailomisos just grunted and went back to eating.

  ***

  The journey took weeks, during which I didn’t kill anyone because I’m a normal, well-adjusted person. Also no one tried to kill me, which was welcome.

  We covered about twelve hundred miles, give or take. Through forests, over hills, past towns that all looked the same. The roads were long and dusty, the inns were mediocre, and my feet hurt more days than they didn't.

  But I practiced.

  Every day, I'd find something small—a fly, a beetle, a mosquito—and I'd draw my revolver as fast as I could, and shoot their wings off mid-flight. It was good practice. Mosquitoes were my favorite, because they deserved it the most. For those I'd only shoot off one wing and watch them spiral down while I laughed.

  Then I'd activate [Reload], feel the tug of mana leaving me, and watch as shimmering, spectral rounds materialized in the chamber. They looked almost real. Felt real, too. But they glowed faintly, like moonlight.

  The first time I did it, Pammon actually stopped walking and stared.

  "Did you just shoot the wings off a fly?"

  "Yep."

  "How?"

  I shrugged. "You aim, you shoot."

  Ailomisos didn't say anything, but I caught him watching me more after that. Not suspicious. Just... calculating. Like he was reassessing how dangerous I actually was.

  By the time we reached the border, they'd both learned to give me space. Sometimes I felt like they saw me as some kind of wild animal. Then again, I did kill their colleague on the first day we met. Probably not the greatest first impression.

  The border wasn't a wall or a gate. Just a marker stone, weathered and moss-covered, with faded letters that read SILESIA in Moravian and Silesian. (Big shoutout to [Omniglot])

  The landscape was very different from Graecia. The trees were darker, thicker. The sky was grey. The air smelled like rain even though it wasn't raining.

  I stopped at the stone. Ailomisos and Pammon stopped a few paces behind me.

  "So," I said, not turning around. "What's stopping me from just walking straight back out?"

  Ailomisos grunted. "You planning to?"

  "No?"

  "Then it doesn't matter."

  "But hypothetically."

  He sighed. "If you did, you'd be hunted down and killed."

  I frowned. "So... the same as in Silesia, then."

  "No," Ailomisos said. "In Silesia, no one knows who you are yet."

  "No one knows who I am in Graecia either."

  "Not yet," he said. "But they will. Girl who killed the Archon of Asteria's son? That story spreads. Here, you're nobody. Stay nobody."

  I considered that. He wasn't wrong, though calling me a nobody was pretty harsh.

  "Alright," I said, turning to face them. "Before I go, I need you to relay a message for me."

  Ailomisos raised an eyebrow. Pammon looked immediately nervous.

  "To Menekrates," I said, voice serious. "It's very important."

  Pammon nodded. "Of course. What is it?"

  I paused for effect. "Tell him I said his beard looks stupid and his sandals are ugly."

  They just stared at me, bewildered.

  "...Do we have to say that?" Pammon asked.

  "Yes."

  "But—"

  "Word for word," I said. "It's very important."

  Ailomisos snorted. Might've been a laugh. Looks like the boulder finally cracked. I knew I’d get old stoneface eventually. No one escapes my charm.

  Pammon sighed. "Fine. We'll tell him."

  "Thank you." I gave them a small, mocking bow. "You've been wonderful escorts. I'll treasure these memories forever."

  Ailomisos just shook his head and turned to leave. Pammon lingered for a second, like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and followed.

  I watched them go until they were just shapes on the road.

  Then I turned back to the border stone.

  Phisto sat beside me, tail flicking. "You ready?"

  "No."

  "Good. Let's go anyway."

  Patreon :)

  Discord if you'd like to join us!