“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Zeke, sitting on the edge of the bed. The night before, Abby hadn’t been in the mood for much discussion, and she had been far too exhausted for other activities. So, after spending almost an hour in the shower, she had gone straight to bed, which had left Zeke on pins and needles about her gains, especially after her cryptic statement about not knowing whether or not it had been a worthwhile endeavor. She had gained a level, so even if that was all she had to show for the excursion, it should have been clearly beneficial.

However, something about her quest had rocked her to the very core, and Zeke had some inkling what it might be. After all, he’d completed enough Framework quests to know how they usually worked. And as strong and capable as Abby was, she wasn’t built to shoulder the mental repercussions of the slaughter usually associated with such endeavors. Neither was Zeke, if he was honest – nobody was. Often, he lay awake at night wondering if he’d taken things too far back in the troll caves, fighting the drachnids, or in any of the other various encounters he’d had with monster societies. The only leg of his journey through the Radiant Isles that he didn’t feel at least a little conflicted about was the wholesale slaughter of the undead horde. However, he always came firmly down on the side of necessity. Either he did what he had to do, or other people – likely innocents – would have died, to say nothing of his own survival. But Abby – she was built differently than him. She was far more empathetic, and though she tried not to show it, she had plenty of doubts about killing, whether her targets were monsters or people.

Abby sat up and leaned against the headboard before running her hand through her hair. She looked so different with it loose, though Zeke was beginning to get used to seeing her without her customary high ponytail. Her gaze distant, she answered, “I don’t know. Usually, I’m on the other side of this.”

“What do you mean?” Zeke asked, placing a comforting hand on her thigh.

“I’m used to being the therapist,” was her sighing response. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes. “This whole thing is stupid. I mean, when I think about it clearly, I can see that I made the right choice. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to digest, you know?”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened? Maybe I can help,” Zeke suggested.

“I never really acknowledged how difficult this can be from the other side,” Abby stated. “It’s not like you’re going to judge me for it. I know that. Even if you were that kind of guy, and you’re not, I’m sure you would agree that I made the right decision. But still…”

“Just tell me,” Zeke nudged. “Talk to me. I’m more than a pretty face, you know. We’re partners here.”

“Pretty?” she said, quirking an eyebrow. There was a slight curl to her lips – not an actual smile, but something on the verge of one. “Is that how you see yourself?”

“What? I’m a good-looking guy!” he insisted.

“Sure, sure,” she said. “Keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, I’ll keep describing your looks as…well…your face has character. You’re rugged. That’s better than being pretty.”

Zeke opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t think of a retort. So, he just smiled, saying, “Whatever. Are we going to talk about what happened? If you’re not ready, I understand, but –”

“No, no – it’s fine,” she said, adjusting her position and letting the blankets slip down her bare torso. Zeke tried not to notice. Too much. Abby obviously wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t want to get sidetracked. “The long and short of it is that I killed a lot of gnolls. Like, an entire village. Hundreds of them. Maybe more.”

Then, she launched into an abbreviated explanation of what she’d been doing since they’d parted ways, telling him about her first encounter with the gnoll patrol, sneaking through the village, finding the temple, and ultimately, her encounter with the thunderbird couple. She told him about her ambush on the temple stairs, the jeweled egg, and how she’d poisoned the gnolls’ water supply, which resulted in the decimation of their village’s population.

“I didn’t even loot them,” she admitted. “I was miles away before I even realized how much wealth I’d left behind. But they were…I don’t know. They weren’t people. They were little more than beasts. But…”

“But there were hints of humanity, right?” Zeke provided.

Abby nodded. “Do you think I’m a horrible person for doing it?” she asked. “I know they were imprisoning the thunderbirds and killing their children, but…but it’s just…back on Earth, if someone used poison like that, it was a war crime. Even when humanity was at its worst, that kind of thing was supposed to be off-limits. And I didn’t even hesitate. Not much, at least.”

“I think…I think you did what you had to do, Abby,” Zeke said, scooting a little closer. He reached out to caress her cheek. “You’re a good person. Better than me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Abby whispered.

“Do you know how long it took me to even begin to regret what I did in the troll caves?” Zeke asked. She shook her head. “Months. Maybe even a year. And even then, it was a dull regret – like I knew it was what I should be feeling, and my conscience was trying to force me into it. But you? You got there almost immediately. That means a lot, I think.”

Abby leaned into his hand, closing her eyes and cupping it with her own. For a moment, they just sat there on the bed, taking comfort in one another’s presence. It was a good moment, even if the events that had led them to it were anything but. Finally, with a sigh, Abby pulled away, and the moment passed.

“Do you want to help me test it out?” she asked. “My new skill, I mean. I haven’t used it yet.”

Zeke nodded, then he thought better of it. “You’re not going to shoot me again, are you? We have no idea how strong that skill is, and –”

She slapped his bare shoulder, then grinned. Even though her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, there was genuine joy in the expression. “Oh, don’t be like that, you big baby,” she said. “You’re a big, strong warrior with some of the best armor I’ve seen. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but –”

Rising from the bed, she gave him a coquettish look. “We’ll give it a dry run or two first,” she said. “But after that, you’re mine.”

Zeke wasn’t the most perceptive of men, but when her eyes lingered on his bare chest, he couldn’t miss her double meaning. So, predictably, he found himself grinning like an idiot as she extricated herself from the bed and went to the adjoining bathroom.

From the other room, she called, “I saw the house upgraded to an actual tower. Did you do anything? Or was it just a natural evolution?”

Zeke answered, “Natural. I don’t know how the thing even works, but it seems to kind of anticipate our needs. Like, you should see Tucker’s lab. It still needs to be stocked with some of the appropriate equipment, but according to him, it’s perfectly laid out for his alchemical needs. And Talia said that her suite is almost a perfect replication of her rooms back in the Temple of the Sun Goddess.”

“Makes sense,” she said, her voice muffled as she brushed her teeth.

For Zeke’s part, he couldn’t really agree that it “made sense” because nothing about the tower fit into that description. That it just seemed to grow on its own was a bit worrying. Would it stop? How else would it evolve? And moreover, if it got much bigger, it’d become difficult for them to travel incognito, which would spell trouble in a hundred different ways.

After a few minutes, Abby stepped out of the bathroom and started dressing. As she pulled on a pair of her armored, leather pants, she remarked, “I noticed the statues.”

“And?” Zeke asked, stepping into the bathroom to take his turn.

“Are they accurate?” she asked. “Is that how it was against the trolls?”

“Yeah,” he said, smothering his toothbrush with what passed for toothpaste in the Radiant Isles. It did the job, but it didn’t have the minty taste that was so prevalent on Earth. “Mostly, I guess.”

“And that big one in the center of the ground floor?” she asked. “Is that what you want?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, poking his head out of the bathroom to see her tugging on a cotton undershirt. Over that would go her padded, leather coat that would function as light armor.

“The way it was laid out, it was like us against the world,” she explained. “All of us. Even the alchemist. I think it’s the tower trying to tell us something. Or maybe it’s your own mind influencing it. You see us as a group, right? You’ve already accepted Tucker as one of our companions, haven’t you?”

Zeke blinked. He hadn’t realized it, but Abby’s reasoning was spot on. At some point, Tucker’s inclusion in their party had evolved from a temporary arrangement to something more permanent. The tower had responded by giving him his own customized suite of rooms, commemorating his inclusion by adding his likeness in among the other statues.

“He’s a good guy,” Zeke said.

“I won’t argue with you, but I will say that you’re a little biased because he sometimes speaks with a southern accent,” she said. “It reminds you of home. And that’s fine, I guess. But I don’t know how good of a guy he really is. He’s useful, though. I probably wouldn’t have survived without his healing potions.”

“You just need to get to know him,” said Zeke.

“Maybe.”

Zeke knew that, in this case, “maybe” probably meant “not a chance,” so he went back to his morning ablutions before stepping out of the bathroom and getting dressed. By the time he’d finished, Abby had already gone downstairs, probably to talk to Talia or play with Pudge. He was thankful that she didn’t try to cook more often, because she was markedly terrible at it. Of course, she claimed that, on Earth, she’d been quite a good cook, but without recipes or modern cooking equipment, whatever skill she’d had just didn’t translate to the new world.

In any case, Zeke didn’t mind cooking; growing up with a frequently absentee father and a distracted mother, he’d learned early on that if he wanted anything specific, he’d have to cook it for himself, at least more often than not. So, he’d developed some degree of skill, which had only been pushed a little further by necessity. Luckily, he had plenty of ingredients stored away in the tower’s lower levels, which had grown even larger than ever when the tower had evolved.

So, once he’d dressed, Zeke descended the steps and soon found himself in the kitchen. There, he saw Abby sitting with Talia and enjoying a cup of coffee. After asking if either of them wanted breakfast – they did – Zeke set about making eggs, bacon, and, for the cherry on top, some grits he’d bought back in Beacon. It hadn’t been easy to find, but he’d persisted until he bought an entire sack of the southern breakfast staple.

Once he’d finished cooking, he brought the trio of plates to the table and everyone tucked in. As they ate, they made small talk about various subjects – ranging from Abby’s distrust of grits to Talia’s recounting of the fight against the myconids – until Zeke finally said, “I’ve been thinking about trying to alter one of my skills.”

Talia looked at him with a confused expression before asking, “You mean you want to force an evolution to the next tier? Is that possible?”

Zeke shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I was more thinking about changing some of the parameters. Kind of like I did with the [Mark of Companionship] that became my bond with Pudge. Where is he, by the way?”

“He’s on his morning ramble,” Talia answered. “Can’t you find him with your bond?”

Zeke shrugged. “Probably,” he admitted. In fact, if he concentrated, he could pinpoint Pudge’s exact location. However, doing so seemed to unnerve some people, so he tried to keep it to a minimum. “Anyway, I think I can replace a couple of the runes of my [Mark of the Bear] skill and change it a little. The underlying theme of the skill will stay the same, but I think I can expand it to include strength, dexterity, and agility as well. Plus, if this works, I’m pretty sure I can tweak it a little to work off my stats as opposed to whoever receives the mark.”

For a moment, Zeke didn’t notice the look of surprise on both Talia’s and Abby’s faces. However, it didn’t take him long before he saw it for what it was. “What?” he asked.

“You can’t change skills like that,” Abby said.

“It is impossible,” Talia stated. “You can influence the way a skill evolves, but you can’t…just…you can not just rewrite a skill like that.”

“I think I can,” Zeke stated, taking a bite of bacon. As he chewed, he went on, “It’s all just runes, right? And when I evolved my artisan path, things just became so much clearer. I don’t know if I can do the second part right now, but I’m almost positive that first part is possible. And think about how much more powerful that could make our party.”

Indeed, Talia and Pudge both were incredibly dependent on their physical stats. And even Abby’s archery was tied to both her strength and dexterity, though more of the latter than the former. If Zeke could alter his skill to include more than just defensive stats, it would change everything. And what’s more, he thought he could do it, too. He knew the appropriate glyphs, and he’d spent the past few weeks mapping out that portion of the skill.

“Do you have any idea how wrong this could go?” Talia asked.

Again, he found himself shrugging. “Worst case? It screws up the skill and makes it unusable,” he answered. “But I think the potential gains outweigh the risks.”

Abby reached out and patted his forearm. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “You know that, don’t you? When was the last time you thought of your own development? Your last two skills have been completely focused on helping others. First, it was so you could save Pudge with [Mark of Companionship], and then it was so you could protect us with [Mark of the Bear]. Both are great skills, but…”

“I know,” Zeke said, raising his hands in surrender. “But I had other reasons I didn’t choose something different at fifteen. Everything else just seemed…very situational. Like [Heart of the Berserker]. I mean, it’s a good skill, and it’s saved me a few times, I think. But it’s just not…in the grand scheme, [Mark of the Bear] will help us more than something more focused and situational. Still, I think that at twenty, I’m going to be looking for something that’s…more offensive in nature.”

“When are you going to try to change the skill?” Abby asked, obviously knowing when to leave off.

“Soon,” Zeke stated. “Before we get to the Red Wastes. But for now, I want to see what your new skill can do.”

Abby grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” was her response. She rose from the table, then led them out of the tower. The building had been summoned in the center of an expansive valley, but they were still in the mountains. So, there were plenty of boulders around. After calling her bow and letting it unfold from her glove, she summoned an arrow. Then, a moment later, she loosed the arrow, which sped toward the boulder. The arcane construct slammed into the rocky surface, burying itself a few inches deep.

“Is that it?” Zeke asked.

“Wait for it…”

Then, with a crack of thunder, a huge lightning bolt descended from the sky, striking the boulder and shattering it into a thousand pieces.

“Oh, I like that,” Abby said.

Talia agreed, “Me, too.”

“You are not shooting me with that,” Zeke stated. “Not a chance in hell.”

Abby cut her eyes at him, then said, “I told you not to be such a baby. It won’t hurt. Much. You’re way more durable than a rock.”

“I said –”

Then, Abby wheeled on him, an arrow already summoned. “You might want to back away, Talia,” she said, already stepping backwards.

“Oh, c’mon!” Zeke said, summoning his shield. Thankfully, he’d had the presence of mind to don his armor before exiting the tower.

“Don’t whine,” Abby said. “Nobody likes a whiner.”

Then, with another smile, she shot the first of many, many arrows at him. And over the course of that morning, they learned a few things. First, Zeke really, really hated being Abby’s target dummy, and by the time they were finished, he felt like his insides had melted. His armor along with his resistances had prevented any lasting damage, especially considering that he made copious use of Tucker’s potions, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. On top of that, they also learned that the skill wouldn’t work if he deflected the arrows. They were markers, and the lightning would descend wherever the arrows were. So, if the arrow was embedded in the turf, that’s where the lightning would strike.

“Powerful skill,” Zeke muttered, kneeling on the ground and twitching as Abby approached. “Is it what you wanted it to be?”

“That and more,” Abby said. “That and so, so much more. I’m still not sure it was worth it, though.”

Zeke could only nod at the reminder of what the skill’s acquisition had cost. Was a little more power worth genocide? Even when the population being killed was comprised of literal monsters, the answer could only be “maybe.” It all depended on what Abby planned to do with that skill.