The creature’s death was accompanied by a glut of experience points the likes of which Hirrus had not seen. Not in any of his other battles. He went from level eight to level ten in an instant. It didn’t represent a dramatic increase in power, compared to what he was getting from the equipment he’d pilfered from Last of the Strong, but it was something.

He also acquired three new Arcana and two new pieces of gear. The gear seemed... Unimportant. They were a pair of gloves and a hood made from dense seafoam green scales like that of the monster’s body. Neither piece was legendary, and therefore were uninteresting in comparison to the barrette and gloves he wore already.

The Arcana, however, opened up new possibilities.

Gritted Breath

+1 TEN, +30 Attack Speed Rating

Damage: 2xBUR + 1xSUP

Cast time: 0.25 seconds

Cooldown: 60 seconds

Added effect: Affected enemies are afflicted with Rasp (debuffID 1619) dealing an additional 10% damage and reducing SUP by 5% for 30 seconds.

Twistered Breath

+1 TEN, +30 Crit Rating

Damage: 2xBUR + 1xSUP

Cast time: 0.25 seconds

Cooldown: 60 seconds

Added effect: Affected enemies are afflicted with Choke (debuffID 1617) dealing an additional 10% damage and reducing TEN by 5% for 30 seconds.

Trembling

+4 GLE, +120 Crit Damage Rating

Damage: 1.5xATT + 1xRES

Cast time: 0.5 seconds

Cooldown: 120 seconds

Added effect: Apply High Dispel to affected enemies, removing all Arcana-related buffs.

Two more breath attacks to join his Peppered Breath ability, which would let him output significant damage in an area using his physical stats. When properly combined with Going Ape, he might be capable of clearing a room in just over a second.

He had more pressing matters to be concerned with, though.

The cart, with the two men who had acted as a monster delivery device, was starting to move. Hirrus' couldn’t tell if they were going to try to run him over, or if they were making their escape.

Neither option suited Hirrus' plans, so he threw a giant rock at it.

The Arcana-conjured stone of Rock III flew through the air and smashed into the front fender of the cart. The stone dissolved into dust upon impact, but the force of it still made the vehicle jump and twist, one wheel skidding off the side of the Hari Path and into the softer soil beside it. The cart’s wheels spun wildly in the soft soil, kicking up a plume of dirt.

Through the cart’s front window, Hirrus could see the man inside wildly wrestling with the wheel, trying to keep control of the vehicle.

Hirrus stepped into its path and quickly activated Metallic Shell, and readied another Arcana that should finish its cast time just before impact. He could hear the man piloting the cart bellowing some threat or warning - it was too muffled to tell - but he didn’t slow down.

Hirrus hopped off the ground in the moment before the vehicle hit him, and kicked the front of the cart, where the engine was mounted. The Hiden Sokyaku Arcana blasted significant damage into the engine, the knockback stopping the cart dead in place. As he suspected, the Interrupt component of the Arcana caused the engine to choke, sputter, and die. Though perhaps that was the result of the physical damage he’d slammed directly into the most fragile part of the vehicle’s operation.

Connecting the attack counted as being struck by the vehicle, but it hadn’t been going very fast. Hirrus only took a few dozen points of damage through the Metallic Shell shield, which then blasted the front of the vehicle with shards, shredding the oversized off-road tires and transmuting the front window into an opaque spider web of cracks. The combination of attacks meant that even if the cart’s motor could be made to run again, the rest of the vehicle would be unusable.

With a creak, the door to the pilot’s compartment opened, and the man within rolled out. His mask obscured most of his features, but he was obviously wounded by Hirrus' attack against the cart. A moan escaped his lips. His uncovered mouth dripped blood from what looked like his teeth cutting into the inside of his lips on impact.

The man hit the ground on one foot, and managed to come down on his knees rather than collapsing on his side.

“Get back,” the man said, his voice warbling as he waved a hand in Hirrus' direction. “Don’t make me use my stuff on you, baby.”

Hirrus felt a dark cloud come over his mood. He didn’t realize how much he had actually derived joy from fighting the three-headed monster. The fight had been a choice. He had been testing himself against a challenge.

Now that he was looking down at a real monster, the task that was coming was something he had to do.

It wasn’t a choice.

This was a moral obligation to make the world a better place.

Pumped Kicks was ready again, and activating it gave him movement speed, and he closed the distance to the adventurer in a flash. The last few seconds of his Crushing Blade buff were ticking away, and the first strike was a critical hit that refreshed it. The second blow finished the job, sending the man into the dust before he could use any of his so-called “stuff”.

“Bro!”

Hirrus looked up and saw the other man at the back of the cart. He was holding a human shield in front of himself. Despite the mask covering the top half of his face, his jaw hung open in shock.

“Come on, then,” Hirrus snapped, stepping over the corpse towards the man and his hostage. “Stand for your brother, and fall beside him.”

It was an offer of integrity. A way for the man to fight for the honor of the fallen.

But instead of doing anything respectable, the man stabbed his hostage, turned tail, and ran. His shortsword glowed with purple energy, and the hostage belted out a scream of pain that chilled Hirrus' blood.

Despite Hirrus’ desire to cleanse the world of one more cruel beast, before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling in the road beside the dying man rather than chasing the cowardly one.

Hirrus elevated the man’s head, holding him up, at a loss for what to do. He tried to employ the healing Arcana in his arsenal, but none of them wished to work. He only was aware that the dying man was an invalid target, even as his body was being chewed apart by whatever Arcana the man had used to augment his attack.

“I a-appreciate the attempt, friend,” the man groaned, “but I believe it’s just my time.”

He was an elderly man, dressed in a fine green doublet and brown slacks. His hands were scarred, calloused, and stained, and Hirrus guessed he had been a carpenter.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Hirrus said, struggling to determine how to stop the man from dying. He couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t a valid target. Ancient Stream would heal an ally and remove negative effects - possibly clearing whatever effect was consuming him - but the Arcana wouldn’t activate. “I consider you my ally. I need to do something.”

“If you need to do something,” the man said, coughing twice, the second time spraying red mist down the front of his shirt. “Sorry. If you need to do s-something, then stop them. I don’t know wha-what they’re doing, but they must be stopped.”

“Who?” Hirrus asked. “What? How?” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “What do I need to do to stop them?”

“They’re a g-group of adventurers,” the old man said, which was obvious, but in his last moments, Hirrus wasn’t in a position to complain. “Mercenaries of nefarious means and me-methods. Their leader is a mys-mysterious trickster. They call themselves Fire. In exchange for money and power, they’ve we-welcomed an alliance with a man named Rumi.”

“Rumi is at the top of my list,” Hirrus said, gritting his teeth. “Don’t worry about that. My first priority right now is to stop his monstrous greed.”

“Greed isn’t- isn’t-” the man coughed, and the blood dripping from his lips was purple now. Before Hirrus' eyes, the purple blood started to dissolve the fabric of his doublet, revealing the thin silk undershirt beneath. “Greed isn’t Rumi’s motivation. He just wa-wants to see destruction unleashed on this wo-world. Even Fire and their underlings fear his motivations. They spe-speak of him like he’s some sort of mon-monster. Even by their standards.”

“He is,” a steady voice said from behind them.

Hirrus turned his head to see that Alric had returned to his side.

The old man nodded.

“That’s why they have to be sto-stopped,” he said, coughing again. “I don’t want a fate even those brutes fear to come to pass. Not in a world whe-where my family still lives.”

They were his last words.

Hirrus lowered the man’s body back to the ground, closing his eyes.

Behind him, Alric removed his helmet and held it over his heart.

Allowing a moment of silence to pass between them.

“We should bury him,” Alric said, after the moment seemed to have been long enough to respect the man’s final moments. “Right?”

Hirrus nodded. His decision tree was already telling him where the man’s grave was - even though Hirrus wasn’t a close friend of the man to know where to go - and insistently told him that he deserved a burial. It was one of the few instances in which Hirrus agreed with the now-defunct voice in his head.

What touched him, though, was that Alric had suggested it.

An adventurer was asking to treat a non-adventurer like a real person.

It made him hopeful that if word could spread about what he was doing, perhaps there were others like Alric who might make the world a better place once Hirrus was done. Once they were rid of people like Last of the Strong and Rumi.

And this Fire.