When she got about ten feet away, Agnosin's familiar flared its scales and let out a low hiss, wings spreading as part of its fight-or-flight instinct. From this, he deduced several things. First, she must have dropped her invisibility, startling his poor wyvern, sight-based hunter that it was. Second, his Unique Skill was still stronger than her [Illusionist] class. And last, her scouting trip into the goblin village must have been successful.

Laying a calming hand on the sky-blue, mottled scales of his familiar, he took a moment to admire his beloved wife’s form as she sauntered over. Rationally, he knew she wrapped in herself in her favorite illusion, even here in the middle of the wilderness with no one else around. From the descriptions of others, he gathered that her chosen illusion mimicked the way she looked the day they first met, an angelic beauty like none other. In his opinion, her true form doesn’t look all that different, not that he would say so. Not again.

If making people think her wings were white instead of black, eyes green instead of orange, and hair blonde instead of purple, was that important to her, who was he to force her to stop? He knew the truth, and that was the most important thing.

“I still don’t see why I have to do your dirty work,” she said, the tips of her wings fluttering the way they tend to when she felt irritable.

“Doing things as a couple is good for bonding,” he said, reaching out to pull her into an embrace.

As blasé as his response was, he had to admit that she had a point. As a [Scout], he technically would be the better choice to check the lay of the village. The issue was that being a [Scout] was not his true calling. He chose the class for its synergy with his Unique Skill, not from any desire to skulk about in the woods. It was a calculated move that had paid off in an immense way. Unfortunately, if his class didn’t evolve or rank-up soon, he may have to take a second class more suited to him. It was an option he was hesitant to take, but every day he felt a little more handicapped by the path his class set out for him.

“In that case,” she avoided his grasp with practiced ease, shooting him a dirty look. “You should’ve brought one of your other girls.”

“We’ve been over this, Quinn,” he said. “Protagonists like me have harems of women who adore them. It's just the way we’re written. I don’t love you any less. In fact, I would venture to say that the security I feel in our relationship gives me the confidence to dabble with other women.”

The fluttering of her wings grew still as she processed his words. He braced himself for another fight, wondering, not for the first time, if she was really upset about these minor issues or if a deeper problem was at play here.

“Just the three hobs, as far as I could tell,” Quinn said, dropping the subject. “Twenty regular goblins. This seems like a peaceful little village.”

Surprised and put on his guard by the sudden change, he flexed his Unique Skill [True Sight]. His eyes, fueled by his [True Sight], stripped away all pretense, the way they always did. Things became clear as he put together the truth of the matter from the subtle nuances of her expression and body language. They did not drop the fight, the subject had just changed. Perhaps this is what she was actually upset about, but he doubted it. They had done far worse together before coming to this world. It takes more than a few dead goblins to convince the gods to cast down an archangel.

“It has to be this way,” he said. “Rats just aren’t good enough. We need to test their hypothesis with sentient beings to see if it applies. No one will miss a small, rural village at the edge of Native lands. Besides, at least half of the Awakened community sees goblins as little more than vermin, anyway.”

“But they’re not vermin,” she said. “They’re basically the love child of an orc and an elf with the stature of a human child.”

He stifled a smile at the analogy. Her quick wit was one reason he loved her so much. “You are correct. Which is why we need them, as primitive as they are. Anything less than the emotional and intellectual reasoning of a human would be worthless.”

“Is this really so important, Angosin?” she said, her voice soft.

“The truth is as bold as it is ugly,” he said, the words flowing from his mouth before he could even think, the strength of a lifelong habit showing its teeth.

“And so, we boldly pursue it,” she finished the quote, not meeting his gaze. “No matter how ugly it may be.”

They stood there in silence for several minutes before she spoke again. The silence felt like a widening gulf in their intimacy as husband and wife, but he knew it to be just that. A feeling. Feelings come and go. They’re based in the moment, from incomplete perceptions. One might even claim that feelings lie to the individual, causing them to act irrationally. But nothing, not even feelings, could lie to him. Not for long.

***

He faced one of the three hobs, the Champion if he wasn’t mistaken. The Chieftain was protecting the villagers and herding them out of the open. That left the Shaman to do its best to fend off his wife’s illusionary horde and his familiar’s very real destructive capacity.

The Champion was an impressive hobgoblin specimen, standing a head taller than Angosin with rippling muscles so close to the surface of his skin you could almost see the individual muscle fibers. He wore loose-fitting pants, and a sleeveless vest that showed off his impressive, battle scarred arms and heavy iron gauntlets.

The hob approached him with fluid grace, the grim determination of someone willing to fight to the death to protect what he loves in his eyes. The raw humanity of it gave Angosin brief pause, but he stuffed those feelings away, labelling them as useless. Like the inhabitants of his home world, the Natives of this world were pieces of fiction. Feeling sympathy for a figment of imagination would only hinder him in his quest.

Grim and silent, the hob covered the last few paces between them in a flash of motion, taking advantage of his brief lapse. Instinct, experience, and a sizable portion of luck were the only things that allowed him to dodge the hob’s first blow. The air shook as he ducked beneath the whirling kick aimed at his head. Without a moment to waste, he activated his unique skill and fed Source from his core into the skills he’d got his class for.

[Quick Analysis] and [Enhanced Vision], when combined with [True Sight], slowed down his perception of time and let him read his opponent’s movements with accuracy so terrifying that he may as well have [Precognition]. With a few quick movements, he gave himself enough space to activate his Aspect. The Aspect one gained by pushing their Core to Tier 3 varied from person to person, each type of Core granting different types of Aspects. The hob had the telltale ears and tail of someone who had chosen a Beast Core and had been granted an Aspect when it reached Tier 3. In comparison, Angosin’s [Magic Core Aspect: Mage Sight]’s may as well been tailormade for him.

Upon activation, the slow-moving scene around him exploded into a writhing mass of lines crafted out of light. The lines flowed in and out of all things, each connection defined by brightness and color. Although the lines were ever changing, as far as he could tell, they were never created nor destroyed.

The bundle of lines in the hob’s chest, flowing into his muscles and bones, did more than let Angosin know he was most likely facing a [Body Enhancer]. By judging the brightness and flow of the lines, he could predict when the hob would use a skill and the general effect it would have. In his opinion, it was this combination of skills that saw his meteoric rise to the Guildmaster’s right-hand man despite his low level.

Eyes burning bright with activated skills, he used his slender long sword to deflect the blows he couldn’t dodge. As he waited for an opening, he gathered Source from his Core for a pair of cantrips that would end this in an instant. He knew his skills were burning through the Source gathered in his Core at a prestigious rate. However, given the situation, he couldn’t risk using the less potent and slow to gather Ambient Source to fuel his attack.

The moments seemed to stretch forever before the hob gave him an opening. Judging by the flow of Source around the [Body Enhancer], Angosin was sure that the opening was a trap. If he had to guess, Angosin would say that the hob believed that his body was strong enough to weather whatever blow Angosin could muster. Given higher levelled [Body Enhancer]’s penchant for having muscles like cords of steel and bones comparable to diamonds, the hob was most likely right.

Unfortunately for the hob, Angosin didn’t need to do any direct damage. With a practiced lunge, he touched his sword to the hob’s unprotected side and triggered his first cantrip. Source flowed from his Core, down his arm and along his blade, changing from potential to electrical energy. The burst of electricity caused the hob’s muscles to contract, the result even more impressive given the raw power stored in his muscles. With the hob momentarily stunned, Angosin used his second cantrip to convert Source into a burst of kinetic energy, powering his sword through the hob’s eye socket and into his brain.

[Body Enhancer] s could forge themselves into engines of war through the constant damaging and rebuilding of their body using Source. Muscle and bone were easy to fortify. Unfortunately, eyes and organs were less receptive to physical enhancement. An overly debilitating flaw, in Angosin’s opinion. It was one reason he took the [Scout] class instead.

Wrenching his sword free of the corpse, he followed the closing circle of [Phantom Image]s toward the villagers’ last stand, noting a shadow passing overhead. On arrival, he found the entire village huddled in a meeting hall of sorts. The village Chieftain stood guard outside the only door, holding an impressive-looking crossbow, as the illusionary horde encircled the building.

A quick activation of Angosin’s Aspect revealed lines running to and from the Chieftain to the villagers. Because the Chieftain was standing guard by himself, Angosin assumed that he was a benevolent leader, boosting morale. A [Warlord] or a derivative class would be more likely to rally their village to defend itself. Leading them to hiding and then making a martyr’s last stand stank of peace.

It was impressive, in its own way. Classes thrived on conflict and Cores only grew from use. To build a Core over Tier 3 and a high enough level class to lead a village must have been difficult. A talented and dedicated Native, to be sure. But it was no Awakened standing before him.

“Surrender peacefully,” Angosin said, bending down to place his sword on the ground. He used the motion to palm a small steel ball from a pouch on his belt. “And we won’t hurt you more that we have to.”

The half-truth sat like lead in his gut, but he forced the feeling down. He faced the Chieftain and waited for a response. The steel ball was unnaturally heavy in his grasp, weighed down with deception. It was distasteful, but he needed as many of the villagers alive as possible, so some deception was necessary.

“Why attack,” the Chieftain spoke in broken common, his voice laden with dark accusations.

“You have something we need,” the ball seared his palm as used a cantrip to pump thermal energy into it.

“Tell what. We give, you go.”

“Yes.”

Angosin opened his hand and shot a blast of kinetic energy into the ball. The red-hot ball flew almost too fast to see. It took the Chieftain in the chest, crunching through bone and carrying on through the door behind him. Angosin winced when he heard screaming inside. They needed an even number of goblins. It would be a shame if he killed a few on accident.

“Quinn,” his wife had floated down onto the roof of the hall during the conversation. She must have jumped off his familiar's back. Even though she had wings, she hadn’t been able to fly since the incident. “Help me gather the goblins and split them into two even groups.”

It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a command. As such, she didn’t bother answering.

Chaining the goblins up and separating families to create groups with diverse age ranges was… arduous work. The screaming and crying didn’t help, nor did the promises that they ‘wouldn’t harm them more than they have to.’

Throughout the process, his familiar brought in several captured escapees. Their final total of captured goblins was 16. He wasn’t happy with such a low number, but he also wasn’t willing to keep these goblins in captivity while he captured another village.

With the subjects prepared, it was time to move to the secondary location and begin the experiment. Almost as an afterthought, he commanded his familiar to gather the hob’s corpses. No use in letting valuable material go to waste.

***

“Everything is ready, Boss.” Angosin’s right hand greeted them at the second location. The orc was a muscled, green behemoth of a specimen, standing an easy seven feet. Angosin suspected that the orc’s frame had a lot to do with his class and Aspect but was too polite to say so.

“Good, we’ll bring out the first group in a moment.”

They herded the goblins into two separate buildings. Both were carved with sound-proofing runes, a necessary expense to keep either group from panicking. Angosin gave them some time to settle down and acclimate to their new situation. He used the time to check on the site where the experiment would take place.

The pool, dug into the ground, was a product of long hours and clever spells. It featured a host of runes that would keep anyone from clinging to the sides to stay afloat, as well as stifle the use of Source. Angosin wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was proud of the work. It took a lot of valuable materials as well as intensive use of [Mage Sight] and [True Sight] to keep the runes operating in harmony.

Everything appeared to be in working order. The pool was too deep to stand in, with walls too high to reach the top of. It was big enough to accommodate at least 15 goblins at once, with plenty of swimming room, which was more than enough for the two groups of eight he had available.

Confident in his work, he ordered the first group of goblins thrown into the pool. At first, they scrabbled at the walls, screaming for help. Then they dove to the bottom, seeking a way out. Some tried to help others escape at their own expense, but those were punished, and their efforts were fruitless. After an hour, the first gave up and died. The rest followed within the next hour.

They disposed the bodies and changed the water, allowing for the next group of goblins. As they threw in the next group, Angosin pondered the results of the first group. In the initial experiment, done on rats, the rats would die within minutes of realizing the hopelessness of their situation. Perhaps being a sentient being allowed for a higher capacity of hope? Or rationalizing away despair?

The second group proceeded much like the first, right until just before the hour mark. Before any of the goblins could die, they hauled them out of the pool. They were ushered back to their soundproofed building and given a hot meal and towels to dry off with. After an hour, they were thrown back in.

The second time they lasted over a day, proving the initial experiment's findings on the power of hope.

Satisfied with the results, Angosin chronicled his methods and results. Then, he planned his next experiment and marveled at what truth he might find.